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Therukural (“The Voices Of The Streets”) has
gone viral, and he has invitations to perform
abroad.
But perhaps we would never have heard
of Arivu if it hadn’t been for Pa Ranjith. The
poster boy of Dalit assertion in Tamil Nadu,
his last movie Kaala (2018) had the superstar
Rajinikanth play a Tamil gangster who rules
Dharavi (Pa Ranjith publicly denounced any
connection to Haji Mastan, also a Tamil Dalit).
Impressed with what he saw of Dharavi’s
thriving music scene while shooting –
Dopeadelicz, a Tamil rap crew that grew up
there, sang three tracks on Kaala – Pa Ranjith
called Tenma, indie music producer and
founder of the record label Madras Records,
as soon as he was back in Chennai. He was
determined to create a “conscious music” band
in a city otherwise famous for its exclusive
Carnatic concerts.
Tenma, who’s gained a reputation for
speaking out against the classism, casteism
and nepotism of the Tamil music industry,
founded Madras Records in 2017 after the
demise of his cult band, Kurungan. Though
their politics aligned perfectly, he was still
surprised to receive the call. “I had never met
Pa Ranjith before, and our conversation that
day went on for over an hour. We spoke more
about politics than music.”
What was clear was that Pa Ranjith wanted
to bring back Gaana in its original form.
Steeped in the history of (then) North Madras,
Gaana originated in “Black Town”, north of
Fort St George, or “White Town”, home to a
growing native population in the 17th century.
Separated by the colour of their skin, Black
Town was further divided according to caste,
each with its own village. Gaana is the music
of those at the lowest rung of this ladder.
The story goes that a travelling Su saint
inspired the musical form. Encouraged by his
verse, the people of Black Town began to sing
of the struggles of daily life, the injustices
they faced, and were vocal in their plea for
equality. The music also re ected the diversity
of its singers – with in uences from Su
poems, Christian hymns and folk songs, using
colloquial words – all accompanied by the
rhythm of loud drums traditionally associated
with funeral processions. Gaana entered the
Tamil lm industry in the early 1990s with
the movie Amaran and the hit song “Vethala
Potta” that the hero, Karthik, sang himself.
The genre was eventually appropriated by the
industry. “Gaana was sanitised, stripped of all
its politics and only the melodies were used
for the longest time,” says Tenma, while taking
me through the nuances of the form as it was
practised in Black Town, where he grew up.
He likens Gaana to the “blues of Chennai”.
Tenma organised an open audition after
that conversation with Pa Ranjith, and 19
members were eventually selected – including
traditional percussionists, guitar players,
Gaana singers and rappers. Arivu was chosen
as their lyricist, and they were called The
Casteless Collective.
On January 6, 2018, the group gave its rst
performance in Chennai, dressed in sharply
tailored grey suits. The event was free to
the public, and saw more than 5,000 people
attend. From songs such as “Quota” (“Your
forefathers kept mine oppressed / Isn’t that
why we were given quota?”) to the “Beef ”
song (an ode to the deliciousness of the meat
and how it’s cooked) sung by Isaivani, the
band’s only female member, and “Kaalu Rooba
Dhuddu”, a song about manual scavenging,
the performance was all about reclaiming
a Dalit narrative with pride. The audience
danced, cried and cheered, overwhelmed.
“It was not your regular concert,” Arivu
remembers proudly. “Whole families came for
the gig together; there were grandmothers
cheering in the audience.”
(Clockwise from
top left) Coming
Out As Dalit by
Yashica Dutt;
A poster for
Dalit History
Month; Artworks
by Rajyashri
Goody – Bhaakar;
Laddoos made
out of Manusmriti
pulp, ,
pictured here
with a ceramic
bhaakar and a
recipe booklet.
Displayed at
the exhibition
“Revelations”
at Harvard
University