The Three L’s: Land, Labor, Leaves — Reading Subaltern
Ecologies in Bama's Karukku
Dr. Sindhu V Jose,
Assistant Professor,
Department
of English,
Sona College of Arts and Science,
Tamil Nadu, India
&
S. Jayamohan,
Assistant Professor,
Department of English,
Sona College of Arts and Science,
Tamil Nadu, India
Abstract: Bama’s Karukku as a powerful Dalit
autobiography, tortuously intertwines personal and collective experiences of
caste oppression with the ecological realities of Tamil Nadu. This study focuses
on the “Three L’s”—Land, Labour, and Leaves—to explore the subaltern ecologies
entrenched within the narrative. Through these interconnected themes, Karukku illuminates how the Dalit
community’s engagement with the environment is shaped by historical marginalization,
exploitative labour, and cultural resilience.
The article portrays land
as both a site of survival and exclusion, where access to resources is strictly
regulated by entrenched caste hierarchies. Labour, depicted as embodied
ecology, reveals the physical toll on Dalit bodies engaged in agricultural work
and leaf collection, highlighting the inseparability of human and non-human
environments. The karukku leaf, central to the community’s livelihood,
symbolizes both precarity and resistance, reflecting the community’s grit in
the face of systemic suppression.
Drawing upon postcolonial
environmental humanities, Bama’s narrative challenges dominant environmental
discourses by centering the knowledge, experiences, and voices of marginalized
Dalit communities. By foregrounding the intimate connections between caste,
labour, and the environment, Karukku underlines
how social pyramids shape ecological relationships and survival strategies.
Through the lens of the
“Three L’s,” Karukku
demonstrates the intricate intersections of ecology, labour, and resistance in
Dalit literature. The narrative not only records lived experiences of
oppression but also asserts a form of environmental knowledge rooted in
subaltern realities. In doing so, it contributes significantly to postcolonial
ecocritical discourse, urging readers to rethink environmental justice and the
often-overlooked ecological dimensions of caste oppression. Bama’s work thus
stands as a vital intervention, revealing the ways in which marginalized
communities exchange, undergo, and counterattack environmental and social
constrictions, offering a nuanced understanding of subaltern ecologies.
Keywords: Subaltern
ecologies, Karukku, postcolonial
environmental humanities, caste, environmental embodiment, ecocriticism.
Introduction
Bama’s Karukku is a powerful Dalit autobiography
that weaves her personal experiences with the ecological and social realities
of Tamil Nadu. Using the idea of the “Three L’s”—Land, Labour, and Leaves—the
narrative shows how subaltern life is shaped by both caste oppression and
everyday interactions with the environment. Through these images, Bama reveals
how the relationship with land, work, and natural elements like the karukku
leaf becomes a space of both suffering and resistance, questioning dominant
views of the environment. The title Karukku refers to the palmyra
leaves with their sharp, double-edged structure, symbolically linked to the
biblical verse from Hebrews 4:12 about the word of God being “sharper than any
two-edged sword.” Bama, writing under a pseudonym, is a Tamil Dalit woman from
a Roman Catholic background, and the term karukku—derived from the
Tamil word karu meaning seed or embryo—suggests newness, hope, and
renewal.
Land: Spaces of Exclusion and Survival
In
Karukku, Bama carefully illustrates how the Dalit community is
geographically and socially pushed to the margins, confined to the edges of
villages and denied access to fertile land or meaningful resources. Their
physical distance from the village centre is not accidental but a deliberate
outcome of caste hierarchy, where spatial segregation reinforces social
exclusion. Bama’s writings are grounded in the caste-stratified villages of
Tamil Nadu and highlight the everyday experiences of Dalit Christians. The land
itself becomes a silent marker of this inequality—Dalits are often left with
barren, uncultivable spaces while dominant castes control the most productive
areas. Bama, as a young girl, is unaware of the caste-based divisions around
her.“ I don’t know how it came about that the upper caste communities and the
lower caste communities were separated like this into different parts of the
village” (Karukku 7).In her village, each caste occupied a separate area,
arranged almost in layers. A small cluster of Nadar houses came first, followed
by the settlements of the Koravars and then the Chakkiliyars. After them lived
the Kusavars, the Pallas, and finally the Parayars. In addition to these
groups, there were distinct streets for the Thevars, Chettiyars, Asari, and
Nadar communities, and further beyond lived the Naickers and Udaiyars. The
upper-caste families remained strictly within their own sections, while the
lower-caste communities stayed in theirs. Upper-caste people would never enter
the lower-caste areas, though the lower-caste members had to go to their
streets for work.
At
the same time, Bama shows that these marginalized landscapes carry their own
histories of endurance. The peripheries, though shaped by oppression, also
become sites where subaltern communities build alternative forms of ecological
belonging. The daily interactions with land—whether through agricultural
labour, walking long distances, or gathering natural resources—reveal both the
hardships imposed by caste and the quiet stratagems of survival and resistance.
This perspective brings into line with postcolonial ecological critique, which
argues that environmental experiences are inseparable from histories of social
power. In Karukku, the Dalit relationship with space exposes how caste
determines who has the right to land, who cultivates it, and who benefits from
it.Bama not only emphasizes that these same landscapes nurture solidarity,
memory, and hope, making the environment not only a witness to suffering but
also a partner in resilience. Bama’s Karukku highlights the power of collective
resistance, especially through education and community unity. Her characters
draw strength from their shared experiences of oppression and use their
cohesion to confront both caste and gender injustices.
In
Karukku, Bama repeatedly highlights how Dalit communities are pushed to
the edges of the village, living in separate settlements far from the
dominant-caste households. She describes how the Dalit streets are usually
placed near barren fields, dry lands, or waste areas—spaces that reflect their
socially imposed position. This positioning is not merely geographical; it
reveals how caste structures control who belongs where.
Bama, the poor Dalit girl also witnesses how fertile land
and access to water are tightly controlled by dominant castes. Dalits are
allowed only to work on these lands, never to own or benefit from them. She
notes that despite doing the hardest agricultural labour—tilling, weeding,
carrying loads—they remain excluded from the wealth their labour creates.
Through such reflections, the text shows how the landscape itself becomes a map
of inequality.
The author also suggests that these marginal spaces
become sites of resilience. She recalls moments when Dalit workers, even while
performing degrading labour, develop strong bonds, share stories, and find
dignity in community. The environment—dusty paths, fields, groves—quietly holds
these shared memories. This duality is central to postcolonial ecological
critique: the land functions both as a record of oppression and as a place where
subaltern identities take root. Through her narrative, Bama reveals that
ecological belonging is shaped not only by nature but by long histories of
caste-based elimination and survival.
Labour: Embodied Ecologies of Exploitation
In Karukku, Bama presents labour not
merely as an economic activity but as an embodied ecological experience that
reveals the deep entanglement between caste oppression and the environment. The
exhausting physical tasks performed by Dalit women and men—such as gathering karukku
leaves, toiling in fields, and doing other agricultural work—show how their
bodies are continually subjected to both social and ecological exploitation.
Through these depictions, Bama illustrates how the Dalit body becomes a site
where caste-based hierarchies are inscribed and enacted, making labour an
experience of both physical endurance and social humiliation. This perspective
reverberates with the theoretical idea of “environmental embodiment,” which
suggests that the lives of subaltern communities are intimately shaped by their
interactions with land, plants, and natural resources. In this framework,
boundaries between the human and the non-human dissolve: labouring bodies,
landscape, and ecological materials interpenetrate, making exploitation both
environmental and corporal. Thus, Bama’s narrative not only exposes caste
oppression but also reveals a larger ecological politics embedded within
everyday labour.
In Karukku, Bama’s depiction of
labor-intensive tasks—such as gathering karukku (palmyra) leaves,
engaging in strenuous agricultural work, and performing physically demanding
village services—reveals the deeply embodied nature of Dalit ecological
experience. “Most of our people are agricultural labourers. When there is no
call for work in the fields, they go up to the woods on the mountains, and make
a living by gathering firewood and selling it” (Karukku 2).These activities are
not merely economic functions; they are lived encounters where the body
directly engrosses the impacts of both environmental hardship and caste
oppression. The everyday acts of bending, carrying, cutting, and enduring harsh
landscapes show how the Dalit body becomes the primary site upon which
ecological exploitation and social hierarchy converge.
The
protagonist, Bama,
the narrator of Karukku, observes how tirelessly her people work—day and night,
without rest—and she often wonders where they find the strength to keep going.
Although men and women labour side by side, their wages are never equal; men
are always paid more. Because of extreme poverty, girl children rarely have the
chance to attend school, let alone dream of an education. They are expected
instead to gather firewood, take care of the home, and look after younger
siblings. Even after Bama completed higher secondary school, her parents
hesitated to send her to college. The main reasons were their poor financial
situation and the difficulty of finding a suitable groom from their community
if she pursued higher studies. The idea of “hydraulic hierarchies” draws from
Karl August Wittfogel’s theory of the “hydraulic empire,” which argues that
control over major water systems—such as irrigation and flood
management—becomes a key source of political and social power. In Bama’s
context, this concept helps explain how dominant caste groups sustain existing
social hierarchies by limiting the access of marginalized communities to vital
water resources.
Bama’s narrative suggests that Dalit
ecological engagement cannot be separated from the violence of caste structures.
The very land they work on belongs to dominant castes, and yet it is the Dalit
body that sustains it through labour. This creates a condition where the
environment is experienced not as a neutral space but as a terrain marked by
fatigue, wounds, and resilience. The karukku leaf—with its saw-like
edges—is symbolic of this bodily experience: sharp, cutting, and demanding, yet
also a source of livelihood and identity.
Bama’s
works—especially her autobiography Karukku—are important to the study
of embodied ecology because they show how the bodies of marginalized Dalit
people are shaped by both environmental conditions and social exploitation. Her
narratives highlight the deep connection between caste oppression, physical
labour, and the environment. When Bama’s grandmother and other women wanted to
drink water, the Naicker women would pour it from a height of four feet,
forcing them to catch it in their cupped hands. They could never drink enough
to fully satisfy their thirst. Watching this humiliating practice filled Bama
with a deep sense of dread.
The explication resonates with the idea of
“environmental embodiment,” a concept explored in environmental humanities and
subaltern studies. It emphasizes how marginalized communities experience the
environment through physical labour that blurs the boundaries between human and
non-human nature. For Dalits, the body becomes intertwined with soil, plants,
and apparatuses in ways that reflect both survival and oppression. Such an
embodied ecological relationship underscores how environmental degradation,
caste discrimination, and forced labour operate together to shape Dalit life.
Postcolonial ecocriticism challenges the false divide between nature and
culture, arguing that these twofold overlooks the intertwined lived realities
and historical experiences of marginalized communities.
Leaves: Symbols of Resistance and Extraction
In Karukku, the palmyra leaf—karukku—emerges
as a powerful ecological and cultural symbol that reflects the paradoxes of
Dalit life. As a material object, the leaf is central to the economic survival
of many Dalit families, who gather, cut, and process palmyra leaves for various
livelihood activities. This labour is physically exhausting and frequently
undervalued, revealing how Dalit ecological engagement is shaped by systems of
extraction and inequality. Bama’s descriptions of collecting these sharp-edged
leaves underscore the bodily risks and hardships that Dalit communities endure
within a caste-driven labour economy.
At the same time, the karukku leaf
functions as a symbol of cultural resilience. While dominant castes often
dismiss or appropriate indigenous ecological practices, Bama foregrounds how
Dalit knowledge of plants, landscapes, and seasonal rhythms remains essential
to village life. In doing so, she critiques not only the economic extraction of
Dalit labour but also the erasure of Dalit ecological knowledge—a form of
epistemic violence that mirrors their social marginalization. The act of
working with palmyra leaves becomes a way to reclaim agency and assert a
distinct ecological identity rooted in lived experience.
Metaphorically, the leaf’s double-edged
structure reflects the sharp and painful realities of caste oppression. Its
serrated edges resemble the cutting wounds inflicted by social hierarchy,
discrimination, and religious hypocrisy—yet they also signify strength and the
ability to resist. Bama uses this imagery to frame the Dalit narrative as one
that cuts through silence, exposing injustices while carving out space for
dignity and transformation. The leaf becomes a literary tool to articulate
subaltern voices, where every day ecological objects carry complex histories of
suffering, survival, and empowerment.
The cultural significance of nature imagery
differs widely across historical and cultural contexts, reflecting varied
understandings of the natural world and its connection to human life. In some
traditions, nature is regarded as sacred, with natural symbols carrying
spiritual or mythological meaning. In others, nature is seen primarily as a
source of livelihood, shaping cultural practices related to farming, hunting,
and gathering. Nature imagery can also convey deeper social, political, and
philosophical ideas—such as concepts of wilderness, freedom, and the
sublime—revealing how communities interpret their place within the environment.
Environmental Humanities draws on diverse methodologies and frameworks to
explore the cultural, historical, and ethical aspects of environmental issues.
Ecocriticism, for instance, examines literary and cultural texts through an
ecological perspective, investigating how portrayals of nature influence human
understanding and behaviour. Through the symbol of the karukku leaf,
Bama constructs an ecological critique that binds together labour, land, body,
and identity. It allows her to reveal how Dalit interactions with nature are
shaped not by romanticized environmental ideals but by the layered realities of
caste-based struggle. In this sense, the leaf stands as both a reminder of the
wounds of oppression and a testament to the quiet but enduring power of
subaltern narratives.
Conclusion:
Karukku provides a crucial lens for understanding subaltern
ecologies, revealing how land, labour, and natural elements such as leaves
exist not merely as environmental resources but as lived sites of conflict,
identity, and resistance. Through her personal narrative, Bama demonstrates
that the environment cannot be separated from the socio-political realities of
caste. For Dalit communities, the spaces they inhabit, the work they perform,
and the ecological materials they depend on are all shaped by histories of
exclusion and exploitation. These everyday interactions with the environment
thus become negotiations with structures of power.
Land, for instance, is not only a physical
territory but a symbol of belonging and exclusion. Dalits are pushed to the
margins—geographically and socially—reflecting how caste dictates ecological
access and entitlement. Labour, too, becomes a bodily experience through which
environmental injustice is felt and expressed. The physical strain of
agricultural tasks, the exploitation of Dalit workers, and the symbolic
resonance of the sharp-edged karukku leaf all reveal how deeply caste is
etched into ecological practices.
At the same time, Bama’s representation of
these elements highlights their potential as spaces of assertion. Dalit
ecological knowledge, community bonds, and the significance of natural symbols
like the palmyra leaf all testify to forms of resilience that challenge
dominant narratives. Rather than accepting the environment as an oppressive
terrain, Dalit communities reimagine it as a source of identity, memory, and
transformation.
By situating environmental issues within the
lived reality of caste oppression, Karukku expands the scope of
environmental justice. It moves beyond conventional eco-critical frameworks
that often overlook social power, instead foregrounding how ecological
experiences are inseparable from social marginalization. Bama’s work speaks
directly to broader postcolonial eco-critical conversations by insisting that
any meaningful environmental critique must account for caste-based inequalities
and the complex ecological worlds of subaltern communities.
In this way, Karukku becomes more than
an autobiography—it becomes a critical intervention that redefines ecological
thinking from the margins, reminding readers that environmental justice must
begin with those whose bodies and landscapes bear the sharpest edges of oppression.
Through this lens, Karukku not only critiques systems of caste-based
exploitation but also expands our understanding of ecology by highlighting how
marginalized bodies carry the weight of environmental labor. The narrative
reveals a distinctive subaltern ecological consciousness—one that emerges from
the intimate, often painful, interaction between body, land, and labour.
Works Cited
Alaimo, Stacy. Bodily Natures: Science, Environment, and the Material Self.
Indiana University Press, 2010.
Bama. Karukku. Translated by Lakshmi
Holmström, Oxford University Press, 2024.
Huggan, Graham, and Helen Tiffin. Postcolonial
Ecocriticism: Literature, Animals, Environment. Routledge, 2010.
Shiva, Vandana. Staying Alive: Women,
Ecology, and Development. Zed Books, 1989.
“The Holy Bible”: Authorized King James
Version. The Gideons International, National Publishing Company, 1976.
Wittfogel, Karl A. Oriental Despotism: A
Comparative Study of Total Power. Yale University Press, 1957.