My “Namasudra Brahmin” family’s quest for caste dignity in Bangladesh
MY GRANDMOTHER died over a decade ago. Every now and then, I am reminded of the tales she used to tell me when I was a child. Many were from the Mahabharata, the Hindu epic that she taught herself to read. She kept her copy in a cloth case, striped yellow, red and blue, on top of an almirah in our railway officer’s housing in Chittagong (now called Chattogram), in south-eastern Bangladesh. It was her belief that one should keep the Mahabharata at the highest place in the room, in recognition of its sanctity.
My “uneducated” but self-taught grandmother taught me how to read the Mahabharata – and the Bhagavad Gita, the philosophical treatise contained within it – as well as the other famous Hindu epic, the Ramayana. To this day, I remember many shlokas, or verses, from these sacred texts, simply because she had me recite them over and over.