She was part of the societal vanguard. She was a fire that refused to die out. She gave her community reasons to live. She upheld the torch of truth. She never backed out or backed down from the battle for truth. She was a born fighter.
Dr Rose Kerkatta (5 December 1940 – 17 April 2025) is no more. Her body had worn down, but not her passion. She has gone into eternal sleep but has left behind her words and her thoughts to show the right path to the coming generations.
Dr Keketta was no drawing-room intellectual. She worked as much on the ground as on the desk. Her writing encapsulated a movement. She was a prolific writer. Her writings are a testimony to the rich linguistic and literary tradition of Kharia language and will stand the test of time. Her research thesis titled “A literary and cultural study of Kharia folk tales” explores and analyzes the cultural roots and folk traditions of the Kharia community. It is a peerless work.
Hers was a prominent name in the fraternity of post-independence Adivasi women authors. Dr Kerketta translated Premchand’s stories into Kharia language under the title “Premchandah Ludkoy”. Her translation exemplifies what bridging languages and corresponding literature means. Her own short stories tell us a lot about the Adivasi community. Her collection of short stories “Sinkoy Suloo”, “Pagha Jori-Jori Re Ghato” and “Biruwaar Gamcha Tatha Anya Kahaniyan” mirror social reality and introduce us to the different aspects of Adivasi life. “Hepad Avkadijy Ber” and “Abasib Murdah” unveil the depth of Kharia philosophy.
“Jhujher Daand” is prominent among her anthologies of plays while her collection of folktales like “Sembho Ro Dakaye” delve into the collective memory of the Kharia community. “Kharia Vishwas ke Mantra”, edited by her, relates the socio-cultural beliefs of the community. Additionally, collections of essays like “Kharia Gadya-Padya Sangrah”, “Kharia Nibandh Sangrah” and “Stree Mahagatha Ki Mahaj Ek Pankti” bring to the fore the social consciousness and wisdom of her people. Among the biographies written by her, “Pyara Master” stands out as an inspiring chronicle of the life of a leading personality from the community.
Rose Kerketta wrote fearlessly and prolifically about the loot of jal-jangal-zameen (water, forest, land) from an Adivasi feminine perspective. She took forward the social work of her father Pyara Kerketta. She is a source of inspiration. Her legacy includes her daughter Vandana Tete, son-in-law Ashwini Kumar Pankaj and grandson Atoot Santosh, all of whom are writers. Despite limited resources, Vandana Tete and Ashwini Kumar Pankaj have brought to the fore the issues and the concerns of the deprived.
Rose Kerketta belonged to that crop of Adivasi writers who enriched Adivasi literature and worked untiringly to give it a direction. Organizations like “Jharkhand Sahitya Akhda” and “Pyara Kerketta Foundation” symbolize the work she did.
She was the curator of the Department of Tribal and Regional Languages (TRL) at Ranchi University which has birthed many a social, cultural and political movement. She did not just teach postgraduate students but she raised an entire army of intellectuals and litterateurs. She was the torch of wisdom for the activists who were born under the shade of sakhua and karam trees on TRL campus.
Rose Kerketta took on patriarchy head on. She talked about the rights of Adivasi women. Justice and equality were values closest to her heart. She was cordial with everyone. She could make people of any age group comfortable in her company. She was ever-available to researchers seeking guidance. Receiving replies to our queries from her on Facebook or email was like a blessing for us, her students. Sitting in Delhi, we could discuss our research topics with her. She was always available on the phone whenever I sought any clarification regarding her writings on Facebook. My mother, Dr Shanti Xalxo, was her disciple, which only made me look up to her more. I got to know of her work through my mother and it left me in awe. I thought to myself, “How can someone be so courageous? Did she not fear she might lose everything?”
Can a professor sitting in a university be indifferent to injustice under the guise of objectivity? Dr Rose Kerketta’s life teaches us that when the world around him or her is burning, no writer, intellectual or professor should ignore it. They should always try to douse the fire, to bring about social change. Dr Kerketta never deserted people’s movements like some have done in their pursuit of power. In fact, holding aloft the torch, she led such movements, showed the way to them. She actively participated in many social and political movements that form the foundation of today’s Jharkhand.
Whether it was the movement seeking statehood for Jharkhand or the struggle to have facilities in place for teaching and learning Adivasi languages or the issue of the property rights of Adivasi women – she was a consistent presence, neither lacking in awareness nor in commitment. She was associated with both leftist and Adivasi organizations.
I remember that I had prepared a synopsis based on her collection of short stories “Pagha Jori Jori Re Ghato Aur Adivasi Stree Ke Sawal” for my entrance test for the MPhil programme at Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU). That was in 2011. The members of the interview board read the title and thought it was a book in the Bengali language. I tried to convince them that it was a collection of short stories written in Hindi and that “Pagha Jori Jori Re Ghato” is a Jharkhandi proverb. But a professor on the board apparently did not like any student disagreeing with him. He was furious. “This is a Hindi interview board and you are speaking in Bangla. First, stop speaking in Bangla.”
I again explained to him that the book was a collection of Hindi short stories. But he would have none of it. He was adamant. Flaunting his knowledge and position, he almost succeeded in silencing me – until another senior professor on the board intervened, saying, “This is indeed a collection of Hindi stories.” The professor finally relented.
The student-teacher relationship in universities is not how it is commonly perceived. Teachers run amok in universities, they want to have everything their way. They are particularly hostile towards students from deprived communities. What all a woman student from Jharkhand has had to face in JNU is a separate story, which I will write in detail sometime.
Suffice it to say that at the instance of a senior, I backed down a bit and tried my best to convince the professor. Thankfully, things didn’t take an ugly turn and I was admitted to JNU. But it was painful for me to realize that the Hindi Centre had a professor with a savarna mindset.
There are professors of Hindi who deliberately describe Hindi as the “national language”. How ignorant are they of the country’s diversity and how prejudiced they are against the deprived! The incident also shows that the mainstream Hindi literature holds the Adivasi community in contempt. It neither wants to understand the languages and the culture of the Adivasis nor does it want to acknowledge that the Adivasis have deep and abiding ties with nature. It is reluctant to accept the uncontrived relationship of the Adivasis with the living and the nonliving world. When this is the situation at the Centre for Indian Languages under the School of Language, Literature and Culture Studies at JNU, the state of other universities can only be imagined.
Another incident relates to the period when a novel focused on Adivasis was the talk of the town. As part of the discourse on the novel at JNU, some students, including me, organized a seminar. The author of the book agreed to attend the event. We had invited all the professors of the Hindi Centre. But most disappointed us by dropping out at the last moment.
One professor did come. But he neither wanted to listen to the speakers nor did he have any curiosities to satisfy. He arrived just like the police do in Hindi films – moments before the end. He made some painful comments, which sting my mind even today.
The learned JNU professor had not taken part in the discussion, and he had not read the novel. But that did not stop him from blurting out his misplaced views. He gave a long sermon meant for students from Jharkhand studying in JNU. His words reeked of bias. It felt like someone who had forgotten to brush his teeth was talking to me up close. He saw nothing positive in students from Jharkhand, especially from the Adivasi communities. He was parroting what colonial and post-colonial “diku” authors had written. He saw Adivasi students as a set of good-for-nothings who were enjoying themselves with government funds.
That Savarna professor even said that students from Jharkhand buy Bullet motorcycles with their scholarship money, drink liquor and enjoy free lodging. His “concern” was that these wayward students needed to be reformed and that Adivasi discourse and novelists should do something to raise “awareness” on this issue.
He was not ready to see the loot of jal-jangal-zameen. He could not see the habitations of non-Adivasis coming up in Adivasi areas, the Adivasis being hounded out from their homes and fields so that skyscrapers could be built on their land.
What he said made me both sad and angry but I could not have reacted. I was the organizer of the event and a guest invited to speak was insulting the Adivasi community. I was still new to JNU and on that day I was completing my MA. I did not respond to his absurd comments.
I am relating these incidents to underline that the deprived must realize that they have a long way to go in the field of education. We need not one, but a thousand Kerkettas in Hindi and in all other departments of universities. Although some of my progressive friends see red when I say it, it is a fact that most of the professors either believe that they see themselves as “reformers” on the question of Adivasis or harbour deeply ingrained prejudices against them.
Most of the non-Adivasi professors try to understand Adivasis through the savarnavadi lens and never stop sermonizing. They never make a serious effort to hear us out, to try to understand us. This is where Rose Kerketta stands apart from other professors. One of the goals of literature should be to talk about how the thumbs of Adivasis are being severed every day in the universities.
Autobiographical works in Dalit literature continue to talk about discrimination against and injustice with the deprived in educational institutions. Adivasi writers should also publish their experiences of educational institutions so that the world can know the reality. This can be one of the best ways to pay tribute to Dr Rose Kerketta. Attacks from the outside and the inside did not blunt Dr Kerketta’s writing. Her biggest contribution was her role as a powerful voice of the deprived sections. She never tried to hide or shrug off the identity of the deprived. She lived that identity and presented it before the world with full confidence. Her students would vouch for the fact that she never thrust her views on anyone. She believed in hearing, rather than talking.
Unlike most professors with a savarna background, Dr Rose Kerketta did not want to “civilize” or “reform” others. She was not only a teacher, but the representative voice of a generation. She sought justice. She consistently asked questions of our society, of the powers that be and of wider humanity.
Dr Rose Keketta was a torch and will continue to be one, illuminating our minds. The coming generations won’t be able to forget what she did for securing the rights – especially economic rights – of Adivasi women. Like Ulgulan, she will continue to inspire.
Her life vision and her concerns will give a new direction to the Adivasi women’s movement.
My last “Johar” to her.
(Translated from the original Hindi by Amrish Herdenia)
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