Professor Tej Singh had evolved into a pillar of Hindi Dalit literary movement, and as a literary critic, he was miles ahead of his contemporaries
Hindi Dalit literary icon Prof Tej Singh is no more. The 68-year-old died on the afternoon of July 15; the death came easily and strangely. Only a week before his death, Singh underwent all kinds of medical tests that were required by Delhi University (DU) from where he had retired as professor. “Your health parameters are like that of a 35-year-old man,” doctors had told him.
On July 15, Singh was at a market in East Delhi when he felt uncomfortable and went to a doctor. The doctor checked his blood pressure, which was very high, and recommended immediate hospitalisation. Asking Singh to take a seat, the doctor looked for some medicines for immediate relief, but the professor collapsed.
Six feet in height, bearded and long-haired, Singh was a source of inspiration. Born on July 13, 1946, in Delhi’s Ghondli village, Singh was married to Vidya Devi while he was in Class IV. His father Nanhey Ram had a buffalo cart that gave the family a livelihood. His mother was a home-maker.
Educated in municipality schools, Singh joined Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU) to do Masters in Hindi literature. He got an M.Phil and Doctorate from JNU, and joined DU in 1996 as a research scientist. A few years later, he was given a faculty position. Popular among students, Singh produced a host PhDs, and retired in 2011.
A Marxist in JNU, Singh embraced Ambedkarism in DU. Conflict within would erupt often. Once exposed to Marathi Dalit literature, Singh moved over to Ambedkarism. Innately argumentative, he was now noticed in the mainstream Hindi literary circle. Singh would tire opponents in no time.
His grandfather Chaudhary Tan Sukh Rai was the leader of 24 Dalit Panchayats. His grandmother Rampyari had confronted a team of British Police. Dalit women were forced to grind black gram for the horses used by the policemen and were often unpaid for their work. The free service stopped as the British Police agreed to pay in advance for all the work Dalit women did. Singh often exhibited his grandmother’s grit.
While I knew Singh well and admired his literary skills, I had the honour of working with him since 2002. We launched the Hindi literary magazine Apeksha, which soon graduated into a platform for Dalit writers to confront mainstream Hindi literary world. Also, Dalit writers freely expressed concerns of the community.
“let us promote young Dalit writers,” Singh told us. While Apeksha grew in glory, we were joined by another Dalit writer TP Singh in 2004. We all put in our money to run the magazine. While we parted ways in 2008, I have no hesitation in admitting that Prof Singh had evolved into a pillar of Hindi Dalit literary movement. As a literary critic, he was miles ahead of his contemporaries.
The rise of Hindi Dalit literary movement also required an organisation to unleash Dalit energies. Hence, Singh was made the president of the Dalit lekhak Sangh (DlS).
Under him, DlS became a brand name — organising book launches, workshops and conferences. As DlS grew in strength, even mainstream Hindi intellectuals started joining events it organised. Not for nothing was Singh given another term to preside over the organisation. The two platforms that Singh led brought back many ideas and Dalit legends into the picture. Guru Ravidas and Kabir, for instance, came to be debated in more ways than we knew before.
In tears, I salute Singh for his contribution to the Dalit literary movement. I can hardly see anyone around who can match his literary skills, genius and leadership qualities. A void has been created.
The guest columnist is a literary critic and an Ambedkarite