From official history to popular culture, the Hindutva investment in remaking the past has been all too visible over the last decade. And this attempt to dominate history has opened new flashpoints, such as the one linked to the Battle of Bhima Koregaon.
Until 2018, the battle had mostly been a story celebrated by the Dalits of Maharashtra in their struggle for equality. But violence in the run-up to the 200th anniversary of the event in Pune district led to a case against 16 public intellectuals and activists, of which eight are still languishing in prison and one died in custody. While the trial is yet to begin, sections of the mainstream media have already drowned out all the pressing questions – from the chinks in the prosecution’s case to the basic rights of these prisoners – to amplify Hindutva conspiracy theories.
In his new book Bhima Koregaon: Challenging Caste, senior journalist Ajaz Ashraf has presented a meticulous account of the build-up to that violence, the struggles of these activists and their families, the loopholes in the conspiracy theories, and Maharashtra’s contentious caste history, from the Peshwa rule to reformist efforts. The evidence, including his own research, he furnishes in the book over 17 chapters rip apart the claim that Hindutva has united hierarchically-ordered castes.
Excerpts from a conversation with Newslaundry at the author’s home:
Ultranationalists see the celebration of the 1818 Battle of Bhima Koregaon commemoration as a glorification of the British rule. Dalits see it as a triumph against Brahmanical repression. Through what prism must the battle be seen?
I think you should see any historical event through as many prisms that are available to you. There is no one way of seeing the past. Ultranationalists or Hindutva adherents say it is anti-national to celebrate the 1818 Battle of Bhima Koregaon because it resulted in the victory of the British Indian Army, a foreign power, over Peshwa Baji Rao II, an Indian ruler. They are assuming that the idea of India as a nation existed then. This is not true. Peshwa Bajirao II was not fighting for India. He was fighting to save his own empire.
On the other hand, the British did not wage this battle to liberate the Mahars. They fought the battle to expand their empire in India. Yes, the Mahars constituted a substantial segment of the British Indian Army. Yes, they fought valiantly. Twenty-two of them perished on the battlefield. But to look upon the Bhima Koregaon battle as the battle for the liberation of Mahars from the Peshwa’s oppressive Brahmanical rule is an example of events in the past being mythologised.
But there is also another way of looking at the Battle of Bhima Koregaon. Listen to this story: In 1786, the Mahars of Konkan wanted Brahmin priests to officiate at their weddings. They refused; their property was attached by a local bureaucrat. The Brahmin priests complained to the Peshwa, who initiated an investigation into this episode. While this investigation was underway, a Brahmin from Junnar wrote to the Peshwa saying that the Mahars in his area, during Aurangzeb’s rule, had wanted Brahmin priests to officiate at their weddings. But Aurangzeb, after making inquiries, ruled in favour of the Brahmin priests, saying the local custom should not be interfered with.
Citing the letter of Junnar’s Brahmin, the Peshwa ruled that if Aurangzeb did not innovate upon the age-old custom, it would be improper to compel Brahmin priests to officiate at the weddings of the Mahar community in Konkan. Aurangzeb died in 1707. This means the sentiments of equality and dignity, even though not conforming to the modern ideas about them, had persisted among the Mahars for nearly a century.
Again, the incident involving the Mahars dates to 1786, that is, 32 years before the Battle of Bhima Koregaon. Don’t you think that a segment of the Mahars of Konkan would have been relieved, if not delighted, at the demise of the Peshwa rule? Here is a parallel – the Babri Masjid was demolished 32 years ago. But even now, aren’t there people who mourn its demolition and people who celebrate it? While the 1818 Bhima Koregaon Battle has been mythologised as the battle for liberation, yet the myth is not without any basis.
Why do you write that the Battle of Bhima Koregaon as the battle of liberation for the Mahars was a myth created most notably by Dr BR Ambedkar?
Dr Ambedkar mythologised the Battle of Bhima Koregaon to inspire the Dalits to fight caste oppression in the 20th century. But the battle has also been used for other purposes. In 1892, the British stopped taking the Mahars into the army because they were not deemed a martial race, an idea that began governing the British policy of recruitment of soldiers in the post-1857 revolt years. Several retired Mahar soldiers began mounting pressure on the British for reversing the policy of not recruiting the Mahars. For instance, Mahar leader Shivram Kamble would gather people every January 1, the day the Peshwa was defeated in 1818, at the Victory Pillar in Bhima Koregaon village. [The British erected the Victory Pillar to commemorate the 1818 Battle.] Kamble’s idea was to remind the British that in their conquest of west India, the Mahars had played a very vital role – and they should therefore renew hiring them as soldiers.
It was, in fact, Kamble who, in 1927, took Dr Ambedkar to the Victory Pillar, where he delivered a speech. Hindutva leader Milind Ekbote cites Ambedkar’s biographer Dhananjay Keer to claim that Ambedkar, in his speech, said it was not a matter of pride for the Mahars to have fought on the side of the British. But this claim is hard to accept, for on two occasions after 1927, Ambedkar mentioned the role of Mahars in the Battle of Bhima Koregaon with pride, first, in The Untouchables and the Pax Britannica, wherein he summarised the arguments he made at the 1931 Round Table Conference in London. The second occasion was when he wrote a commentary in The Times of India in 1941. Since Ambedkar had a large following among Dalits, the Battle of Bhima Koregaon became a symbol of Dalit valour, holding out the possibility that they could challenge and flatten the Hindu caste hierarchy in the 20th century.
Above all, through Bhima Koregaon, the Dalits lay claim to history, of having played a role more than just being helpless victims over centuries.
How do you see Indian historians’ approach towards this battle over the decades?
The Battle of Bhima Koregaon is mentioned in several historical tracts. But I don’t think historians have studied it from the perspective of Dalits. Even the people of Maharashtra were largely ignorant of the tradition of Dalits gathering at the Victory Pillar every January 1. For instance, historian Shraddha Kumbhojkar, in a survey conducted in 2012 among high-caste, neo-rich people, found none of them had heard of the Bhima Koregaon memorial. The violence that occurred at Bhima Koregaon on January 1, 2018, injected the battle and the memorial into the national consciousness. I guess it will now become a subject of study.
You note that attempts have been made to create a certain version of history relating to the shrine or samadhi of Maratha king Shivaji Maharaj’s son, Sambhaji Maharaj, at Vadhu Budruk. You cite several documents in the book to support the version that a Dalit had cremated him in defiance of Aurangzeb. Could you briefly recall the historical evidence and the chronology of events pertaining to the samadhi?
I never said that Govind Gopal, who belonged to the then Untouchable caste of Mahar, cremated Chhatrapati Sambhaji, after he was executed on Aurangzeb’s order, his body dismembered and the pieces scattered on the banks of the Bhima river. I only said the evidence linking Govind Gopal to the Chattrapati Sambhaji samadhi is both verifiable and strong.
By contrast, there is no evidence backing the claim of the Marathas that it was their ancestors, Bapuji Buva and Padmavati, also known as Shivale, who cremated Chhatrapati Sambhaji. Nor is there evidence of them having any links to the samadhi.
Let us trace the genesis of this dispute. There was earlier a board inside the samadhi – installed on the “inspiration” of Maharashtra’s first chief minister, YB Chavan – which credited the residents of Vadhu Budruk, a village located three kilometres from Bhima Koregaon, for cremating the Chhatrapati. The board also noted that there were three servants of the samadhi, one of whom was Govind Gopal, who belonged to the Mahar caste, and that this fact is significant. This reference became an argument for Dalits to claim that it was Govind Gopal who cremated Chhatrapati Sambhaji.
The board also credited historian VS Bendre for discovering the samadhi. He did so on the basis of documents he found in the Peshwa’s office. One of these dated to 1715, which was a deed granting land to Bhikaram Gosavi and Vasudev Bhatt. They were tasked with making offerings, organising food camps, etc at the samadhi. Another document, dating to 1723, granted 45 bighas of fertile land to Govind Gopal for looking after the samadhi.
The board that mentioned Govind Gopal was removed in 2015, and a new board was installed there. The new board claimed that Vadhu Budruk’s Shivale family (Bapuji Buva and Padmavati), which is Maratha by caste, had cremated Chhatrapati Sambhaji. The board did not refer to Govind Gopal.
Did it not prompt Vadhu Budruk’s Dalits to protest against the removal of the board in 2015?
Yes, it did. Kiran Shinde, of the Buddhist Prerna Group, wrote letters to the authorities, accusing the committee looking after the samadhi of removing the board in 2015 and installing the new one. The guiding spirit of the committee was Milind Ekbote. Shinde and the Dalits of Vadhu Budruk wanted the pre-2015 board to be reinstalled. Nothing happened.
There was a sense among the Dalits that a deliberate attempt was being made to efface Govind Gopal from the popular memory. And so, as the 200th anniversary of the Battle of Bhima Koregaon – that is January 1, 2018 – drew near, Vadhu Budruk’s Dalits decided they must install a board to inform the public about Govind Gopal. This was so because many of those who visit the Victory Pillar also come down to Vadhu Budruk, to pay homage to Govind Gopal, whose samadhi too is located there.
A tenth-generation descendant of Govind Gopal installed, on the night of December 28-29, 2017, a board outside the precincts of the Chhatrapati Sambhaji samadhi. The board said it was Govind Gopal who had cremated the Maratha ruler. A battle over history began.
It is pertinent to point out here that I secured archival documents to show that the Shivale family was never granted land as an award for cremating Chhatrapati Sambhaji, as is obliquely claimed in a document submitted to the Bhima Koregaon Commission of Inquiry, which was constituted to inquire into the January 1 violence at Bhima Koregaon. I point out several discrepancies in this document.
Hindutva leaders like Milind Ekbote and Sambhaji Bhide have been propagating the idea among the Maratha residents of Vadhu Budruk village that it was their ancestors who cremated Sambhaji Maharaj. But how does it benefit the likes of Ekbote? And what’s the pushback like?
There can be several answers to your question. Purushottam Khedekar, of the Maratha Seva Sangh, whom I interviewed for the book, said it’s typically the strategy of the Hindu Right, including the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), to pit the peasant communities, such as the Marathas, against Dalits and Muslims. By claiming that the Shivale family of Bapuji Buva cremated Chhatrapati Sambhaji, they were implicitly deriding the memory of Govind Gopal. For the Marathas to accept that Govind Gopal did or could have cremated Chhatrapati Sambhaji also means that they lacked the courage to defy Aurangzeb’s order that the last rites of Chhatrapati Sambhaji should not be performed. Ideas of who can be courageous and valiant are inscribed in the caste hierarchy, which the claims of Dalits about Govind Gopal symbolically overturn.
A day before the 200th anniversary celebration of the Battle of Bhima Koregaon, on January 1, 2018, a cultural programme called the Elgar Parishad was organised in Pune. The programme was designed to inspire people to oppose the new Peshwai.
What is new Peshwai?
The Peshwa rule was supposed to be oppressive and discriminatory against the lower castes. Through such measure the Peshwas, who were Brahmin by caste, sought to maintain their hegemony. In other words, the BJP governments both at the centre and in Maharashtra were characterised as having the same traits of the18th century Peshwa government. They were labelled as the new Peshwa – and their rule the new Peshwai.
The Elgar Parishad was a cross-caste mobilisation. It held out the promise of uniting a wide array of social groups against the Hindu Right and the BJP. The controversy over the question as to who cremated Sambhaji and the subsequent violence at Bhima Koregaon were designed to break the cross-caste mobilisation against Hindutva.
Why do you think that the violence in Koregaon Bhima was a conspiracy?
In the book, I have said it appears to have been scripted. To understand why I say it, you will have to rewind to the December 28-29 night, 2017, when Vadhu Budruk’s Dalits installed the board extolling Govind Gopal for cremating Chhatrapati Sambhaji.
On the morning of December 29, the sight of the board outraged the Marathas. They uprooted the board and desecrated the samadhi of Govind Gopal. They were outraged because the board implied that they, as I have said earlier, lacked the courage to defy Aurangzeb’s diktat that the last rites of Chhatrapati Sambhaji should not be performed. Seven Marathas were arrested under the Scheduled Castes and the Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocity) Act. The Maratha-dominated villages in the vicinity of Vadhu Budruk passed resolutions saying they would not open their business establishments on January 1, the day lakhs of Dalits were expected to visit Bhima Koregaon. Mindful of the impact the tension between the Marathas and Dalits could have on the January 1 celebrations, the police worked out a truce between two warring groups.
There were, however, people spoiling for a fight. Milind Ekbote, for instance, distributed a press note among journalists at Sonia Hotel, located close to Bhima Koregaon. His note hailed the Peshwa tradition as glorious, claimed that Ambedkar did not think it was a matter of pride for the Mahars to have fought on the side of the British, wondered whether it was right to glorify the British triumph of 1818, etc. He was disparaging the Dalit view of history.
On January 1, a large group of people waving saffron flags sang the Prerna Mantra at Vadhu Budruk. The Prerna Mantra is widely identified as Sambhaji Bhide’s signature tune – and drips with militancy.
The group raised slogans in praise of Ekbote, Sambhaji Bhide and the RSS as they marched towards Bhima Koregaon, wading through columns of Dalits pouring in for the January 1 celebrations. They chanted insulting slogans. Dalits, too, retaliated. A man holding a blue flag ran into the circle the group waving saffron flags had formed. It was at this point, according to many accounts, the pelting of stones began. The man with the blue flag was never identified and traced.
Didn’t the violence at Bhima Koregaon follow the typical script of communal rioting in India? A religious procession wends through a Muslim colony, provocative slogans are shouted, and someone chucks a stone sparking a free-for-all. The culprit who cast the first stone is seldom apprehended. All these ingredients were also there in the Bhima Koregaon violence, with the difference that Dalits were the target at Bhima Koregaon instead of Muslims.
You point to the discrepancies in the statements of the police officers present on the spot.
I used the affidavits of and submissions made by five police officers and two Dalit participants – Ravindra Chandane and Anita Sawale – to the Bhima Koregaon Commission of Inquiry for reconstructing the January 1, 2018, violence at Bhima Koregaon. What Chandane and Sawale heard and saw were remarkably different from what police officers did. For instance, none of the police officers reported hearing the slogans in praise of Ekbote, Bhide and the RSS. Chandane and Sawale, in contrast, did. Chandane was present when the man with the blue flag ran into the circle of those waving saffron flags. Chandane, in fact, went to extricate the man with the blue flag from the circle, fearing he might get bashed up. It was then the stoning began.
None of the police officers cite this as the trigger for the violence. Only one police officer said he heard the Prerna Mantra being sung, but could not, quite incredibly, make out whether its lyrics were provocative. This is incredible because the Prerna Mantra unmistakably evokes violent imagery. While what anyone sees is determined by his or her location, yet it is also true that we humans remember what is inherently important to us.
Dalits were horrified by the Prerna Mantra. The police officer was not. This is why narratives of any event are contradictory, often driven by the subconscious need to repress certain aspects and spotlight others. Caste and class position often influence a person’s choices, even those subliminal.
After the violence in Koregaon Bhima, Maharashtra has seen three chief ministers. In what way do you think the political response has varied?
There were two broad perceptions, one created by the Hindu Right that the violence was instigated by the Maoists. Contrary to it is the claim that the Hindu Right scripted the violence. Not too surprisingly, then Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis looked upon the violence as Maoist-inspired, echoing the Hindu Right. Current Chief Minister Eknath Shinde hasn’t said anything meaningful on Bhima Koregaon; at least, I am not aware of it.
The person we need to focus on is Sharad Pawar, who put together the Maha Vikas Aghadi alliance, which came into power in 2019. In December of that year, Pawar said that a Special Investigation Team should be formed to probe the case. In January 2020, he wrote to Chief Minister Uddhav Thackeray alleging that police officers used their power to foist false cases on the 16 accused in the Bhima Koregaon case, now known as the BK-16. On January 23, police officers briefed Deputy Chief Minister Ajit Pawar and Home Minister Anil Deshmukh, and it was announced that the government would take a decision on appointing a SIT in three-four days. But the very next day, the central government transferred the Bhima Koregaon case from the Pune Police to the National Investigation Agency. Some wonder: Did Pawar have to go public on his doubts about the police investigation, thereby warning the centre of what the state government intended to do? Couldn’t the Maha Vikas Aghadi government have appointed the SIT silently – and suddenly?
The BK-16 were accused of having Maoist links on the basis of documents found on their electronic devices. You note that they were not given a hash value for their seized devices. You also mention the SentinelOne discovery about the connection between the police and the hackers who planted evidence against some of the BK-16.
Hash values are given to those whose electronic devices are seized in order to ensure the data stored on them are not subsequently tampered with. Any tampering changes the hash value. But when computers are hacked and incriminating documents are remotely planted on them even before these are seized, then the issue of hash value becomes irrelevant.
Can you detail the SentinelOne discovery?
SentinelOne is a reputed international cyber security and forensic firm. It, first, identified a specific group of hackers responsible for uploading incriminating documents on the computers of some of the BK-16. SentinelOne gave them the name of ModifiedElephant. Subsequently, it told the American magazine, Wired, that working with a security analyst of an email service provider, they found the same group of hackers had broken into the email account of three of the BK-16 – Rona Wilson, VV Rao and Hany Babu. The hackers inserted an email address and a phone number into the back-up mechanism of the three accounts. The back-up mechanism is provided to email users for accessing their accounts in case, for whatever reasons, these become inaccessible. When a user changes his or her password, a notification is sent up to the back-up email. In other words, if Wilson, Rao and Babu were to change their passwords, a notification would go to the back-up or recovery email the hackers had inserted. Their access to the email accounts would remain intact.
Incredibly, the email address and the phone number inserted into the back-up mechanism were of the investigating officer in the Bhima Koregaon case. It suggests he was in league with the hackers or, at the least, was aware of the hacking. Was he acting on his own or on the instruction of his bosses?
The Supreme Court or the Bombay High Court should have taken suo motu notice of it. An inquiry should have been ordered to investigate the findings of SentinelOne. The media should have been outraged, as should have been the government.
Even before SentinelOne’s discovery, Arsenal Consulting, in 2021, made public its forensic analyses of Rona Wilson and Surendra Gadling, claiming their computers had been hacked and incriminating documents planted on them, Shoma Sen filed a petition in Bombay High Court in March 2021. The petition said the FIR against her should be squashed as she was made an accused on the basis of fabricated documents, and that a SIT should be appointed to identify the guilty officers for punishing them. Rona Wilson made a similar plea to the high court. Their petition came up for hearing only in October 2023.
What about the trial in the Bhima Koregaon case?
We are years away from the trial beginning, for even the charges against the BK-16 have yet to be framed.
Speaking of the media, you mention at another point in your book that a prominent outlet’s story on Hindutva leader Sambhaji Bhide’s activities across Maharashtra as evoking curiosity or amusement instead of alarm.
The whole approach seemed to portray Bhide as an amusing figure, like he has this luxurious moustache, walks barefoot, organises treks to the forts Shivaji used. But these treks are insidious, for after walking through the day the participants are lectured by historians partial to Hindutva. They portray Chhatrapati Shivaji as the protectors of cows and Hindus, particularly Brahmins. I spoke to a couple of former members of Bhide’s Shiv Hindustan Pratishthan. They left him because he would portray Shivaji through the anti-Muslim prism, never praised him for building an inclusive society or protecting the peasant, and vehemently opposed to Jyotiba Phule’s ideology. They said they were repulsed by Bhide’s Brahmanical view of the Chhatrapati, a Shivaji implacably opposed to Muslims.
One of the lowest points in the Bhima Koregaon case was the death of Father Stan Swamy. How do you see the judiciary’s role in upholding the basic rights of these prisoners?
Stan Swamy was repeatedly denied bail even though he was old and palpably ill. Senior lawyer Colin Gonsalves, in an event around my book, said the judiciary’s first betrayal was during the Emergency. He said the second betrayal has been in the last 10 years, citing Bhima Koregaon as an example of it. I agree with him. Some of the BK-16 have been given bail on merit. But eight of them still remain in jail; some of the eight have already spent six years in incarceration. The Bombay High Court granted bail to Mahesh Raut last year, but the Supreme Court has yet to hear the appeal against it.
A section in the book profiles the courage of the BK-16 families. What do you think has been the impact on them?
For one, they have been stigmatised as Maoist and terrorist. Such labelling has social consequences. Their hopes would rise when the court would listen to their bail applications, and on their rejection, they would feel crushed. It would be back to hope during appeals to the high court and the Supreme Court… It would turn them into an emotional yo-yo, as some of the families told me. They have not let their spirit flag, for it would be demoralising for their relatives languishing in jail. Even those granted bail have to adhere to the harsh conditions the court imposes on them. For instance, they cannot leave Mumbai. For those not residents of Mumbai, such as Gautam Navlakha, Sudha Bharadwaj, VV Rao, it means renting a place in Mumbai to stay. Mumbai is an expensive place to live in.
Do you think media coverage has had an impact on the families of those incarcerated in the Bhima Koregaon case?
Obviously, it has. The media partnered with the police to brand them as Maoists. They highlighted the allegedly fabricated letters some of the BK-16 were accused of writing or receiving from Maoists. They did not care to examine the letters, to test their veracity. And now, after six years, they do not even care to ask the State why the Bhima Koregaon trial has not begun. The media coverage of those accused in Bhima Koregaon traumatised them to no end.
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