A Wound Still Open...

It’s painful to admit that in a country that talks so much about progress, caste-based violence is still very real. We read about it in newspapers, see videos on social media, and sometimes even witness it quietly happening around us. The discrimination, abuse, and violence faced by people from marginalized castes in India are not things of the past. They are happening now — in cities, in villages, in classrooms, in workplaces, in police stations, and even in homes. And no matter how often we are told that caste is “over,” the truth is that it isn’t.

Many people try to blame caste on Indian culture, saying it’s always been a part of society. But if we look closely at our history, we find that the rigid and harmful version of caste we see today was made worse — and even encouraged — by British colonial rule. Before the British, caste existed in various forms across India, but it was often more flexible. People were grouped mostly by occupation or community, and there was space for social mobility. Identities could change over time. A community that was once considered low could rise in status by gaining land or political power. Social roles were not as strictly defined as they later became.

But when the British came to rule India, they didn’t understand this complexity. For them, organizing people into neat categories was easier for governance. So, during the census in the late 1800s, they classified Indians into fixed castes, using old texts and their own limited knowledge to label people as high or low, pure or impure. They turned a diverse society into a frozen structure, one that people were forced to live within. This not only spread discrimination but also created new hierarchies that didn’t even exist before.

These divisions helped the British rule more effectively by turning communities against each other. Entire groups were criminalized based on their caste. Jobs, education, army positions, and land rights were all distributed based on these fixed identities. In some ways, the colonial system taught Indians to see caste as something permanent and powerful, which unfortunately still affects how society works today.

But the real tragedy is that even after independence, and even after leaders like Dr. B.R. Ambedkar helped build a Constitution that promised equality for all, the caste system didn’t disappear. It just found new ways to exist.

In India today, caste-based violence is not just physical — it is social, emotional, institutional, and silent in many ways. Marginalized castes still face untouchability in villages, are denied entry into temples, made to sit separately in schools, and refused access to public water sources. In cities, where we like to believe we are modern and educated, the discrimination just wears a different mask. People with certain surnames are less likely to get jobs or rental apartments. Students are bullied and isolated. Marriage proposals are rejected based on caste. And when Dalits or tribal communities try to speak up, they are often threatened, silenced, or violently attacked.

There are countless incidents that show how dangerous caste can still be. Dalit men have been beaten or killed for riding a horse, wearing sunglasses, or touching a public tap. Inter-caste couples, especially when the woman belongs to an upper caste, have been murdered in so-called “honour killings.” Dalit women, in particular, face horrific violence, often ignored or mishandled by the police and courts.

What’s even more worrying is how normalized this violence has become in some places. When a Dalit person is attacked, there’s a routine pattern: local outrage, social media attention, official promises, and then silence. Justice is delayed or denied. Witnesses are threatened. Families are broken, and the system moves on.

Educational institutions, which should be spaces of freedom and learning, have also failed many students from marginalized backgrounds. There have been heartbreaking cases where students took their own lives after facing discrimination, humiliation, and a lack of support. These deaths are not isolated. They are symptoms of a society that still sees caste, not talent or dreams, as the identity that matters most.

And yet, we continue to act as if caste is behind us — as if reservation policies have solved the problem, or as if speaking about caste means promoting division. But staying silent is what keeps the injustice alive.

Of course, not everything is dark. There are people fighting this — activists, students, artists, writers, lawyers, and regular citizens who refuse to stay quiet. Social media has given a platform to voices that were ignored for centuries. People are sharing their stories, exposing the discrimination they face, and educating others about how deep and dangerous caste truly is. Inter-caste love, friendships, and solidarity are becoming more visible, especially among the younger generation. There is hope, and there is change, but the journey is still long and uneven.

It’s important to understand that caste, as it exists today, is not some natural part of Indian life. It is a result of a history shaped by colonial classification, political division, and social fear. Knowing this doesn’t mean we ignore what existed before the British — it simply means we understand how those inequalities were turned into a permanent system of control. If something was created, it can also be uncreated.

We have to talk about caste, not just in textbooks, but in real conversations — in schools, colleges, offices, families, and public spaces. We have to call out discrimination when we see it, support those who face it, and work toward a future where no one is judged by their caste. Laws and policies are important, but real change begins when we change how we think and treat each other.

India is home to many cultures, languages, and identities. Its strength has always come from its diversity. But until everyone is treated with equal dignity — regardless of caste — we cannot call ourselves truly free. We may have removed the British, but we are still living with the social structures they left behind.

Caste-based violence is not a problem of the past. It is a problem now. And unless we face it honestly, we are choosing to carry an injustice that we can, and must, leave behind.

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