AMBEDKAR has a story about a journey he made as a child. It took him nearly fifty years to bring himself to write it, which is not surprising when you learn what happened. He had been born to a disadvantaged community; the year was 1901; his mother was dead and his father was posted as a government cashier some distance from Bombay. Ambedkar and his siblings had been living with their aunt, but it was now decided they should be sent to join their father. “Great preparations were made. New shirts of English make, bright bejewelled caps, new shoes, new silk-bordered dhoties were ordered for the journey,” he wrote. “The Railway Station was ten miles distant from our place and a tonga (a one-horse carriage) was engaged to take us to the station. We were dressed in the new clothing specially made for the occasion, and we left our home full of joy but amidst the cries of my aunt who was almost prostrate with grief at our parting. When we reached the station my brother bought tickets and gave me and my sister’s son two annas each as pocket money, to be spent at our pleasure.
