Summary of Part -III. "The Struggle" of the book - Outcaste : A Memoir by Narendra Jadhav

In the dusty lanes of Nashik, where life for the oppressed was often marked by silence and exclusion, a wave of hope began to rise. It was Babasaheb Ambedkar’s voice that stirred this awakening—a call for dignity, for the right to be seen and heard. Among those who answered were Damu and Sonu, a couple whose hearts burned with a quiet but fierce resolve. Alongside hundreds of others from the Mahar community, they joined the temple entry movement, demanding what should have never been denied: the right to pray, to exist as equals.

On the day of the satyagraha, a sea of people gathered. Thousands stood shoulder to shoulder as Babasaheb spoke of justice and equality, his words lighting a fire in their hearts. The march to the Kala Ram temple wasn’t just about entering a holy place; it was about reclaiming their humanity. But as they reached the gates, they were met with more than just locked doors. Police armed with batons stood in their way, and upper-caste onlookers jeered. Still, Damu and Sonu stayed. Tired, hungry, but unshaken. In those tense days, they found courage in each other and in the quiet nods of support from unexpected allies who dared to see their pain.

The protest stirred unease across the country. Even leaders from the Indian National Congress urged Babasaheb to back down. But he refused. “We’ve waited long enough,” he said. His words rang clear when the temple priests allowed only high-caste worshippers inside on Ram Navami. The crowd’s anger exploded into clashes. Blood was spilled. The movement paused, but it was far from over.

Back home in Kurla, life didn’t get easier. Damu couldn’t find steady work, and Sonu took a job in a matchbox factory, her fingers roughened by long hours and little pay. The constant struggle began to wear Damu down. He grew quiet, withdrawn. When their friend Laxman told Sonu that Damu had spoken of ending his life, she acted swiftly. Damu had mentioned a craving for spicy mutton mince—one small comfort from better days. Sonu cooked it for him with trembling hands and a brave face. Something about that meal pulled him back from the edge. He started to recover, slowly.

But the weight of survival didn’t lift. His mother pressured him to find work. With hesitation, Damu approached Tau Master, a local teacher and mentor. Tau reminded him of his courage during the temple protest and introduced him to Janata, Babasaheb’s newspaper. Reading those words felt like finding a lost part of himself. Reignited by purpose, Damu knew he had to keep fighting—not just for himself, but for Sonu, and for the future.

In time, Damu joined a black flag protest against Gandhi, highlighting the divide between Babasaheb’s vision and the mainstream freedom movement. Life at home changed too. A distant cousin, RD, came to live with them, and Damu helped him prepare for a job. Even when he had little, Damu gave what he could.

Eventually, with Tau Master’s help, Damu secured a job at United Mills. He took pride in it. Sonu would visit him there, and for a while, things felt steady. But hardship wasn’t done with them. Sonu faced cruel whispers for not bearing children. Some urged Damu to marry again, but he refused. She was his partner, in struggle and in love. Then, a factory accident robbed him of his thumb—and his job.

It was a crushing blow. But Tau Master once again nudged him forward, challenging him to read. Damu took to it seriously, tracing the lines of the newspaper with his finger. He even began teaching Sonu to read, despite their mother’s protests. If they could read, he believed, their children—whenever they came—would dream bigger.

By 1935, political winds were shifting. The freedom movement’s momentum faded, but Babasaheb’s voice grew sharper. When word spread that he was considering leaving Hinduism, Damu listened closely. At a mass conference, Babasaheb finally said it: to be free, they must walk away from the faith that had rejected them. It shook Damu, but it also gave him clarity.

In his journey through pain, protest, and perseverance, Damu found purpose—not just in struggle, but in the promise of education, love, and dignity. With Sonu by his side, he vowed to raise a new generation, one that would no longer be told to wait for justice, but one that would walk straight toward it, head held high.