I WAS AN undergraduate at Smith College when I read Dalit literature for the first time. As I sat in an introductory Indian cultures course on my bucolic college campus, my world was rocked by the explosive poems of Namdeo Dhasal, at that time among the very few examples of modern Dalit writing in any Indian language to be translated into English. I have never forgotten the way his words moved me and destabilized my previously received versions of “India.”
A couple of years later, in pursuit of my MA in Asian Languages and Cultures at the University of Texas, I reached back to this formative moment in my education about the power of literary narrative to change the world, and I sought to uncover such voices in Hindi. That decision has led to more than a dozen years of research, fieldwork, reading, translating, writing, and presenting in the area of Hindi Dalit literature, years that have been the most fulfilling and exciting of my life. I have to thank first and foremost the incredible faculty in the Department of Asian Studies at the University of Texas at Austin whose members inspired and shaped not only this project but also my entire approach to and appreciation for Indian literature. This list includes Patrick Olivelle, Edeltraud Harzer, Cynthia Talbot, Joel Brereton, Gail Minault, Herman Van Olphen, and Syed Akbar Hyder. Carla Petievich was not officially a faculty member of UT during my time there, but she was then and continues to be now an important mentor and friend. Martha Selby expertly guided me through my MA and PhD and remains a role model for her sharply intellectual as well as deeply emotive engagement with literature. Though Rupert Snell arrived at UT only after I left, in the years since he has quickly grown into the role of close friend, fount of knowledge regarding all things Hindi, and trusted critic upon whose support I have often depended. Kathryn Hansen, my PhD advisor, remains as steadfast a champion, critic, and trusted friend as anyone could ask for. For this book, and all of my work past and future, I owe her a tremendous debt of gratitude.
My years as a student at UT were also among my most exhilarating thanks to my wonderful crop of friends and colleagues, including Eric Beverley, Mark McClish, Karline McLain, Steven Lindquist, Lisa Owen, Kristen Rudisill, Neil Dalal, Jarrod Whitaker, Robert Goodding, Shannon Finch, Rais Rehman, Michael Bednar, and Julie Hughes. Other friends—Laura Crimaldi, Samantha Rukert, Elizabeth Brusie, Amy Ware, Michael Shea, Alfredo Garcia, Carey Cortese, Nicole Whitaker, Jonathan Lyons, and Justin Marx—also made those years memorable. Gardner Harris’s good humor and dear friendship sustained my soul through years of both intense Sanskrit study and equally intense unwinding, and my entire Texas experience is perhaps more deeply shaped by him than anyone else.
I also gratefully acknowledge the support of several institutions and funding organizations that made this project possible. First, the Foreign Language and Area Studies (FLAS) Fellowship supported me through four years of graduate coursework and two summers in India studying Hindi. My time at The American Institute of Indian Studies (AIIS) Hindi Language Institute, then in Udaipur, was particularly helpful not only in teaching Hindi but also in offering me a space to hone my project ideas. A Fulbright Fellowship in 2004–2005 allowed for the bulk of my field research to be accomplished, and a University of Texas Continuing Fellowship allowed me the space to write my dissertation. Subsequent summer and winter research trips to India funded by Hamilton College and the University of Colorado allowed for me to grow this project, keep my information current, and to strengthen my relationships with authors and friends in India.
After I left UT, I was extraordinarily lucky to be granted a Freeman Postdoctoral Fellowship in Asian Studies at Hamilton College and spent two very happy years both honing my teaching skills in the Department of Comparative Literature and beginning the process of transforming my dissertation manuscript into this book. Peter and Nancy Rabinowitz were tremendously supportive to me throughout this time, and I was buoyed by stimulating colleagues in the field of South Asia, particularly Lisa Trivedi and Chaise LaDousa. Other colleagues too provided sustaining friendship and encouragement, including Hye Seung Chung, Emily Rohrbach, and Andy Lewis.
In my years at the University of Colorado, the place where this project truly matured, I was extraordinarily lucky to be supported and challenged by a host of tremendous friends and colleagues. In particular, Deepti Misri, Haytham Bahoora, and Laurialan Reitzammer made Boulder and CU a very happy home. I also benefitted tremendously from the friendship and engaging intellectualism of my South Asia colleagues, including Loriliai Biernacki, Mithi Mukherjee, Dennis McGilvray, Kira Hall, and Peter Knapczyk. I owe a similar debt of gratitude to my colleagues and friends in the Department of Asian Languages and Civilizations, in particular Janice Brown, Matthias and Antje Richter, Keller Kimbrough, Andrew Stuckey, Satoko Shimazaki, and Suyoung Son. As this book enters its final stages, I have enthusiastically joined the newly created Department of Asian Languages and Cultures at Northwestern University. I particularly want to thank Rajeev Kinra, Laura Hein, and Paola Zamperini for their warm welcome and support of this work.
Other colleagues and friends across the country have stimulated my thinking and provided friendship and intellectual and emotional substance for years. Over time spent together in the plains of Iowa and the mountains of Colorado, Philip Lutgendorf has been an important mentor and friend. I’d also like to thank Christi Merrill, Toral Gajarawala, Ramnarayan Rawat, Beth Rohlman, John Nemec, Bali Sahota, Neil Doshi, and Pavitra Sundar. Their contributions to the field continuously inspire me to better my own, and I cherish our too-infrequent chances to commune.
Friends and supporters in India are all too numerous to mention here, but it is safe to say none of this would ever have been possible, or nearly as enjoyable, without all of them. In particular, Ramnika Gupta has generously provided me with a second home in New Delhi, regularly welcoming not only me, but also my family and friends, into her home. And her life and work continue to provide me with inspiration and insight into the importance of literature as a vehicle for liberation. Anita Bharti has always served as my most trusted source of information and a balanced perspective on the dynamic world of writers, activists, and publishers that make up the Hindi Dalit literary sphere, and in the meantime she and her family—Rajiv, Pavel, and Shantum—have grown into dear friends. Kusum Meghwal’s generous gifts of time, encouragement, and material paved the way for the beginning of this project, and Ajay Navaria’s constant friendship and stimulating literary work developed into a lodestar around which my own thinking about the originality and innovations of Hindi Dalit writing coalesced. I owe his family too—Neeta, Kanishk, and Jasmine—a huge thank you for their regular contributions to my happy homecomings in Delhi. S. Anand and his fantastic publishing house Navayana have offered me important opportunities to expand this project in new and exciting directions. Along the way, Omprakash Valmiki, Mohandas Naimishray, Surajpal Chauhan, Rajni Tilak, Sudesh Tanwar, Suraj Badtiya, Tej Singh, Jaiprakash Kardam, Sohanpal Sumanakshar, Susheela Thakbhaure, and so many others have given me everything they could—advice, direction, and materials out of their own personal libraries. I could not have done any of this without them.
I must also thank my two families here at home for supporting me throughout. My mother and father—Cynthia and Steven Brueck—have, in so many ways, made everything I’ve ever done possible. So too have Ann and Shelton Stromquist, who have opened their home and their lives to support me in ways I still find stunning. My siblings and all of our growing families: Jeff and Rebecca Brueck, Greg Brueck and Barbara Yien, Chris Stromquist and Mariana Lee, and the dearly missed Elizabeth Stromquist have punctuated these years with the joys of family.
Finally, by my side for this entire journey—from the moment we met in our introductory Hindi class in graduate school, to our seemingly endless hours of reading, studying, and writing together, to our travels together across the subcontinent and the world, to our many moves and time spent apart in the service of our dual careers, to our shared grief at the loss of loved ones and our shared joy at the arrival of new members of our family—has been my indefatigably supportive and constant companion, my husband Matt Stromquist. This book is for him, and for our two sons, Hugo and Lyle. Every day all three of these men (big and little) selflessly provide me with inspiration, wisdom, and balance—and always put it all in perspective.