Dag Erik Berg, in his book, Dynamics of Caste and Law argues that the post-colonial experience of Dalits is marked by both mobility and violence. With the impact of affirmative action policies, Dalits started challenging the established status-quo and caste norms, which simultaneously provoked antagonism and hostility from upper and dominant caste groups. In response, atrocities became a new vicious tool for these groups to re-embed the caste power, which flared up in 1977 (Krishnan, 2017) and appeared to increase after the 1990 post liberal phase (Teltumbde, 2010). Keezhvenmani (1968), Belchi (1979) Karamchedu (1985), and Tsunduru (1991) are a few notable events of this history. While navigating this violence was an everyday reality for Dalits across India during these periods, in some places, Dalits retaliated to these atrocities in a militant way. It is within this continuum of mobility, violence, and resistance that the social condition of Dalits in rural Tamil Nadu can be located and Mari Selvaraj succinctly captures this experience from a Dalit sportsperson’s point-of-view in his film Bison.
Set against the scenic rural landscape and simmering tensions of 1990s Tuticorin, the film Bison poignantly asks: What kind of struggles a Dalit man has to face to achieve his dreams, and to break free from the shackles of caste? And what cost does he have to pay for this mobility? Taking inspiration from the real-life athlete Manathi Ganesan, who represented India in the Asian Games and won the Arjuna award, Mari Selvaraj depicts this great achievement into a powerful story with a touch of his distinct political sensibility. As Selvaraj’s fifth film, Bison continues his commitment to centering Dalit subjectivities and realities in his cinematic work, bringing the unspoken and uncomfortable dimensions of caste dynamics into public conversation; it offers a sense of hope and reconciliation among the socially sensitive regions of the southern districts. In this review, we highlight the distinct contributions the film makes to contemporary politics, as well as the areas where it falls short.
Bison is about a Young Dalit man, Kittan, whose life revolves around Kabaddi – a traditional sport that is a pulse for many youngsters. While his raw skill and stunning passion towards the game earns him admiration, it often clashes with the fears of his father, who knew well about the harsh realities of the region and caste-laden politics of sports. Beneath this personal journey arc, the film also invokes the legacy of Pandiyaraja, a Dalit man whose assertion of dignity against dominant-caste domination ignited a cycle of pagai (enmity) with Kandhasamy and his caste members, that continued to define village life, influencing and affecting Kittan at every turn. Through Kittan, his father, and the shadow of Pandiyaraja’s defiance, the film explores how Dalit assertion, aspiration, and everyday survival are entangled with the enduring violence of caste.
The film’s focus on Kabaddi is a symbolic reflection of the social and cultural significance of sports among rural communities, particularly among Dalits. There are two reasons for this significance. Firstly, sports have become one of the important tools in the late 1970s for Dalits to gain mobility. By excelling in sports such as Kabaddi, football and volleyball, a few individuals from the Dalit community have taken this route to secure stable and decent employment, which changed the generations dependency with dominant caste landlords. While this route has given access to only a few, the belief that people’s lives can be changed in this lifetime has been strongly imprinted into the consciousness of the Dalits, which continues till today. This resemblance can be seen in the movies of Vadachennai and Sarpatta Parambarai, where sports were shown as an important part in the life of Dalits. Secondly, while largely considered as a masculine sport, Kabbadi also gives symbolic respect for Dalits within and outside the village if they play well. As a sport that demands physical strength more than financial resources, it is prevalent in the rural belts of southern Tamil Nadu, played in schools, local tournaments, and temple festivals. While there may be two or three teams within a village formed along caste lines, they hardly play with each other as it will create caste tensions. (Arunkumar & Devarapalli, 2002). In very few avenues where Dalits or Dalit teams can participate and compete with upper castes, it becomes an important site for reviving lost respect and dignity. Bison has captured these dynamics well by showing how caste identity still controls the team formations, participation, and the very spaces where the sports come in place. It is only through the exception of the good, well-intentioned dominant caste PE Teacher that Kitaan gets to play in a tournament organised by the dominant caste, through which he gains the respect of the landlord.
Through its engaging narrative, the film accomplishes two things that we feel are extremely important to contemporary anti-caste politics. First, it shows the trajectory of a Dalit “from an untouchable rural Dalit man to a post-colonial citizen who has equal rights” (Waghmore, 2013), which in this case is becoming a National Kabaddi player. Kitaan had skills, (in upper caste language, the ‘Merit’) but in a country like India with deep-seated caste inequalities, one needs more than hard work and skill to become successful – the social capital and the resources. By showing how a Dalit person is navigating these caste embedded terrains of sports with great difficulty, determination and hardwork, the film captures the burden and negotiation involved in a Dalit mobility, and exposes the harsh realities of the Indian caste system in structuring the aspirations and employments of the individuals. This documentation is extremely important as it will boost the confidence for marginalised members, as well provide awareness for non-dalits to the crude realities of caste. The film also seeks to resolve different conflicts and enmities that are inherent in the anti-caste struggle and in the creation of an egalitarian Tamil society. As shown in the movie, in the regions of Tirunelveli and Tuticorin, the feud between Pasupathi Pandian and Pannayaar members are responsible for several murders that frequent the news. While the origin of this feud has strong roots in the assertion for self-respect and dignity, now, it has transformed as an enmity between these two caste groups. With state institutions not able to stop such revenge killings (embedded in caste) in these regions, Mari attempted to create a dialogue between these two groups using the powerful audio-visual medium: cinema. The political maturity and anti-caste commitment to resolve this conflict are evident from the way Mari handled this highly sensitive subject.
While Mari aptly analysed that this enmity in contemporary times is continuing due to the anxiety of a dominant caste in losing their caste pride and violence as a way of reinforcing it, and maintaining their social position, however, he refrained from explicitly mentioning many things. The decision to show Kandhasamy’s motive does not involve caste dimension stems from this self-censhorship. This can be for obvious pragmatic reasons, but its unintended consequences started unravelling in social media after the film’s release. For instance, Pannayaar’s supporters started using certain scenes from the film to portray his behaviour as selfless, and casteless and equated it to the general nature of the dominant caste he belongs to. What Mari misses in this is how most of the behaviours of the dominant caste groups, which deals with power and prestige, often stems from their grip towards caste. Even though Kandhasamy's motive can be personal in supporting Kitaan, it cannot be devoid of caste. The anti-caste work to resolve the caste tension amongst Dalits and Shudra castes should be rooted more in redistributing the resources, making the state and political parties accountable, rather than giving positive limelight to the dominant caste, which might have its own unintended consequences.
What kind of struggles a Dalit man has to face to achieve his dreams, and to break free from the shackles of caste? And what cost does he have to pay for this mobility?
While Bison excellently captured many layers and lived realities of Dalits in Southern Tamil Nadu, there are a few areas where it could have gone further. It tends to portray Dalits as a homogenous category. While most of Mari’s films center on the Devendra Kula Vellalar community, other Dalit subgroups – such as the Arunthathiyars – rarely appear. This mirrors the Arunthathiyars marginal position within Dalit movements themselves, where their legitimacy is often questioned. The film could have made a stronger statement by explicitly addressing graded inequalities within Dalit communities. Such a gesture would have opened up conversations about subcategorization. The film also overlooks the Christian missionaries' work in the Tuticorin region, where the film is localised. Palayamkottai, often referred to as the “Oxford of South India,” is renowned for its large concentration of schools and colleges, established by various Christian missionaries. These missionaries have historically played a crucial role in breaking the barriers to education for many Dalit and marginalized communities, and have also produced numerous sportspersons who have represented India at the national level across diverse disciplines. Bison acknowledges this legacy through Kitaan’s schooling background, however, a more explicit engagement with this history, would have enriched the film’s social and historical depth. Especially in the context of the current Hindutva uprising in India, where Christian institutions and their contributions to marginalized communities are being increasingly undermined and erased from public discourse.
Overall, BISON is an engaging, powerful sports film that confronts viewers with the harsh realities of how caste continues to shape every arena of life. Many scenes and visuals resonate closely with real-life incidents from southern Tamil Nadu, where caste tensions and violence persist. Unlike other sports films, Bison starkly transforms the struggle of Dalit’s mobility into a cinematic experience, which is extremely important. Mari Selvaraj has not merely made a film, he has attempted to educate the Tamil society about the history of the Southern Part of Tamil Nadu from an anti-caste lens and has initiated a dialogue. While it may take generations to achieve genuine harmony and peace, Bison offers a glimpse of hope for a more inclusive, egalitarian and aspirational future.
References
Berg, D.E. (2020). Dynamics of caste and law : Dalits, oppression and constitutional democracy in India. Cambridge University Press.
Teltumbde, A. (2010). The persistence of caste: The Khairlanji murders and India's hidden apartheid. Zed Books
Krishnan, P.S. (2017). Social Exclusion and Justice in India (1st ed.). Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of atrocities) Act, 1989, amending ordinance and bill 2014. Routledge. Routledge India. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781315106229
Waghmore, S. (2013) Civility against Caste: Dalit Politics and Citizenship in Western India. NewDelhi: Sage Publications
Arunkumar AS, Devarapalli J. Rural life and Kabaddi: Reflectives in Tamil cinema ‘Vennilla Kabaddi Kuzhu’. Discovery, 2022, 58(315), 189-193