“Untouchability, caste based discrimination are no longer much prevalent in the village, and the social and economic conditions of Dalits are improving. They now have the freedom to eat, converse, and interact with anyone without restrictions. Furthermore, Dalits are accessing government jobs with relative ease due to reservation policies.” These are the words of the OBC Pradhan of village Khushalpur, Maharajganj². This statement reflects changes in the narratives about upliftment of Dalits but in turn masks the continued persistence of caste intolerance. While overt practices of untouchability may have reduced in many ways, caste intolerance now expresses itself in subtler and more systematic manners. Upper-caste intolerance now often presents in subtle manners: behind the social exclusion or denied resources, barriers in mobility, or even violence when caste norms are questioned. According to Gopal Guru, this change reflects an alteration in the nature of caste relations that both obscure and perpetuate the intrinsic discrimination.

Sound as the source of intolerance has a known history of some eighty years. The corporeal sound embodied in the Dalit body made the upper caste of the temple town of Pandharpuram in Maharashtra intolerant to the extent that the latter thrashed the Dalits mercilessly. This was reported in the fortnightly Bahishkrut Bharat published by Babasaheb Ambedkar on 3 April, 1927. Eighty years later a Dalit youth was killed by upper-caste youth in another temple town, Shirdi, in Maharashtra, the reason being the same—‘shrill sound’(Guru 2017). In the case of Khushalpur, what absolutely annoyed the villagers was not a corporeal vocal sound, but the DJ playing songs on Ambedkar Jayanti. Every year, on April 14, the Dalits of Khushalpur  gather in jubilant celebration—a day that marks liberation, upliftment, and the hope of ending caste-based discrimination. On this day, the community leader convenes villagers on a stretch of parti land, a common ground that serves as a space for unity and purpose. Speeches were given, stirring calls for justice and vows were made in Ambedkar’s name—a promise to honor his vision and continue the march towards equality. In a spirited procession, they moved through the village, a march that echoed the rhythm of defiance and hope. Children, dressed in bright blue danced with laughter in their eyes; men led the way with pride, while women followed, holding high their posters of Gautama Buddha and Dr. Ambedkar. It was more than a celebration—it was a reaffirmation of identity, resilience, and the enduring fight against discrimination. 

The year 2023 carried a notable atmosphere of resilience. On the morning of April 14, however, a concerning incident unfolded when Dalits were denied access to the parti space to celebrate Ambedkar Jayanti. In the village predominantly inhabited by OBC and upper-caste Brahmins, Dalits were prevented from using a DJ, with claims from the upper caste that the music promoted messages encouraging religious conversion, anti-Hindu sentiments, and disparagement of the upper castes. Not only were Dalits denied entry to the venue, but they also faced verbal abuse for venerating Dr. Ambedkar and chanting “Jai Bheem.” The situation escalated to such an extent that police intervention became necessary. Ultimately, the Dalit community was granted permission to use the venue and play their music, though Brahmins simultaneously broadcasted the song “Jo Ram ka nahi, woh hamare kisi kaam ka nahi” (Whoever is not devoted to Lord Ram is of no use to us) as a counteraction. This incident is just one example of the intolerance experienced by the Dalit community. When Dalits began using “Jai Bheem” as a greeting instead of “Namaste,” the upper castes objected. In response, many Dalits have resorted to using “JB,” an abbreviation of “Jai Bheem,” as a more subtle greeting.

Similarly what irritates the upper-caste Sikhs in Punjab is the song ‘Chamar Da Munda’ (the son of a Chamar), a legitimate cultural assertion of the Dalit youth of Punjab. One does not know how long the killers of Dalits would take to understand that music and art reintegrates human beings into everyday life. For a Dalit, the ringtone of Ambedkar’s song works as the aesthetics of ordinary existence. It suggests how to govern one’s life in order to give it possibly the most beautiful form in the eyes of oneself, others and the future generation. However, the net consequences of the upper castes’ active intolerance force Dalits to adopt coping mechanisms. Hence, they are forced to edit out the acclamatory language that has Ambedkar in it (Kandasamy, 2017). Upper-caste intolerance towards Dalits caste the latter repeatedly into social stigma. Upper-caste intolerance is not just in tension with the unfreedom of Dalits; rather, it gives active sustenance and reinforcement to that unfreedom. Some meager freedoms are granted to the Dalits but are purposefully restrained to prevent any significant social change. 

The battle over sound is real because sound is not just noise; it is an assertion, dignity, and defiance. A demand for silence is, therefore, a demand for submission. However, the Dalits have resisted with sound. Music, slogans, and celebrations constitute an assertion of identity and a right to be heard. This, therefore, is the reason sound generates such intolerance: it breaks the caste hierarchy; it makes an equal claim to public space. The issue, therefore, is not the outcry of Dalit voices—it's about the very belief that they should remain unheard.  It is in this sense that tolerance provides the middle space, a kind of stopgap that can offer an opportunity to radically rework our positions. This would help us adopt a critique (of intolerance) based on rational belief and cosmopolitan humanity (Kandasamy, 2017). True toleration would mean that the Dalit must not only be allowed to speak and celebrate but also be guaranteed that they may do so freely and without fear. 

¹ I got inspiration to use sound as a source to critique upper intolerance towards dalit is after reading A Dalit History. 

² Unlike every rural setting which has two villages within, the main one and one on its outskirts, Khushalpur has three villages consisting of upper caste hindus, obc and dalits respectively. This tri-divisional hierarchy also reflects in economic status, education, social status and access to resources. 

Reference - 

1. Ghose, Sagarika. The Dalit in India. Social Research, vol. 70, no. 1, 2003, pp. 83–109.

2. Kandasamy, Meena. A Dalit History. New Delhi: Penguin, 2017.

3. Guru, Gopal. Experience, Caste, and the Everyday Social: Interpretations from Below. Edited by Sundar Sarukkai. Oxford University Press, 2019.