Casteism in Modern India: A Personal Reflection
Casteism has always been a big issue in India. Originally, the caste system was designed as a way to organize society, based on profession rather than birth. It wasn’t meant to divide people permanently. In fact, in the past, caste was flexible — if someone changed their profession, their caste also changed. But over time, people with power altered the system for their own benefit, and now a person’s caste is decided entirely by the caste of their parents. Once you are born a Brahmin, you remain a Brahmin forever, no matter your work or life choices.
Traditionally, different castes had specific roles: Kshatriyas were warriors and rulers, Brahmins were scholars and priests, Vaishyas were traders, and Shudras worked in service professions and farming. In the earliest system, this arrangement was functional and not necessarily oppressive. But the distortion began when kings and higher-caste elites realized that if their children chose different professions, they could lose their social power. To protect their dominance, they declared that caste would be hereditary — fixed by birth. This was the beginning of the rigid, unequal caste hierarchy that continues today.
I was born a Brahmin, but my profession is completely different. By the original rules, I should not be treated as a Brahmin at all — yet society still labels me that way. Honestly, it doesn’t offend me; in fact, I sometimes enjoy the benefits of belonging to a higher caste. But when I think of those born into lower castes, I feel disturbed. Even today, many people who have transformed their lives through education or good jobs are still judged by their caste rather than their achievements.
The reality is harsh: wealth can often protect lower-caste individuals from discrimination, but poverty leaves them exposed to the worst of caste-based cruelty. For example, the former Chief Minister of Uttar Pradesh, a Dalit woman, rose to power and commanded respect from people who would never dare to mistreat her publicly. Yet at the village level, Dalits still face exclusion from public services, discrimination in schools, and social humiliation.
One group I learned about deeply is the Doam community, whose traditional role is helping with cremations. I worked with them three years ago and saw firsthand how badly they are treated. They are considered “untouchable” in society — denied access to common wells, pumps, and even schools. Nobody will accept food or water touched by them. But when I studied Hindu traditions more closely, I realized this stigma is a complete distortion. Hinduism does describe temporary ritual impurity — for example, anyone who attends a funeral becomes untouchable until they bathe. I have experienced this myself many times. But by that logic, Doms should only be untouchable while performing cremation duties — not permanently. Society has twisted this practice into something cruel and irrational.
The cruelty sometimes reaches shocking levels. On 24 September 2010, I read an article in Amar Ujala about a Dalit woman who offered a roti to a dog. The dog’s owner, a Yadav man, became furious and declared his dog “untouchable” because it had eaten food from a Dalit’s hand. A Panchayat meeting was called, and unbelievably, they ruled that the woman had to take ownership of the dog and pay a fine of ₹15,000 to the owner. How could a poor woman afford that? And how could a Panchayat — a government-recognized body with legal power — make such a decision in the first place?
Even worse, when the woman went to file a complaint at the police station, the officers refused to register it and instead scolded her for feeding the dog. She went to the DIG and again her complaint was ignored. Only when she approached the SC/ST DSP office was the case registered — and I am almost certain no real action will be taken. At best, they might hush it up because the media got involved.
Incidents like this shake me. Are we really living in the 21st century India we are so proud of? Is this the same India we call the world’s fastest-growing economy, a rising superpower? Is this the same land of Lord Rama, who lovingly ate food offered by Sabari, a woman from an “untouchable” caste, or bowed to a boatman from a so-called lower community?
Sometimes, it feels like we are stuck in two worlds — one that dreams of becoming a global power, and another that refuses to let go of ancient prejudices.
