Saturday, December 02, 2006
Thursday, August 03, 2006
udaipur in the summer of 06
dear all
Please accept my sincere apologies for being absent from the group since times immemorial :D
One reason being that i hardly had anythin worthwhile to tell given that i had put a temporary full stop to my eco-tourism ventures (thanx to my tuti ungli). The whole may month was spent taking swasthaya labh at my den.
The whole june was spent commuting 300 km every second day and spending life with a new BB. This BB stands for Bhashan & Batiyan which i gave and took in ample amounts. Literally crying myself hoarse in front of forest protection committee members and gulping down ghee laden batis in good measures.
July was spent recuperating as well as a short trip to Dahod,Guajrat. 3 dams,4 piligrimages and numerous field sites at dahod i think were not enough. (shall be sending the pics at the end of the month.)
To top it all my next two months shall be spent moving to n fro between east and west, thanx to a land rights study that i have been assigned.Shall be moving to indore on 5th and from there to calcutta-bhubaneshwar-paralakhemundi (if i spelt it correctly). Shall be in Belgam and karnataka in September. So hoping to catch up on all the rajmohalla members and make amends for my lethargy.
Please accept my sincere apologies for being absent from the group since times immemorial :D
One reason being that i hardly had anythin worthwhile to tell given that i had put a temporary full stop to my eco-tourism ventures (thanx to my tuti ungli). The whole may month was spent taking swasthaya labh at my den.
The whole june was spent commuting 300 km every second day and spending life with a new BB. This BB stands for Bhashan & Batiyan which i gave and took in ample amounts. Literally crying myself hoarse in front of forest protection committee members and gulping down ghee laden batis in good measures.
July was spent recuperating as well as a short trip to Dahod,Guajrat. 3 dams,4 piligrimages and numerous field sites at dahod i think were not enough. (shall be sending the pics at the end of the month.)
To top it all my next two months shall be spent moving to n fro between east and west, thanx to a land rights study that i have been assigned.Shall be moving to indore on 5th and from there to calcutta-bhubaneshwar-paralakhemundi (if i spelt it correctly). Shall be in Belgam and karnataka in September. So hoping to catch up on all the rajmohalla members and make amends for my lethargy.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Today i invented what not to do
Driving 80 km in the sweltering heat of udaipur i discovered what not to do in a study. Having waited for volunteers to add their two pence to the proceedings we delayed our study to such an extent that ultimately we had to start off o nour own in the heat of april. What we forgot was that farmers also have their own routine. When we reached the village , whole of it was deserted ocz most of them had gone to harvest their wheat.
Slowly we convinced him to come and sit with us. As soon as he sat we discovered that while he was with us, each hour of his he was making losses in hundereds. His thresher which he had rented was lying idle, his buffalo had escaped, his children were waiting from him at his home place etc etc. Still he had the courtsy to serve us tea in khakra leaves which we drank like rabaris!!!!!!!
Hats off to indian hospitality
I told my friend " Edison did not fail 2500 times but he discovered 2500 ways of how not to invent a bulb!!!!
Slowly we convinced him to come and sit with us. As soon as he sat we discovered that while he was with us, each hour of his he was making losses in hundereds. His thresher which he had rented was lying idle, his buffalo had escaped, his children were waiting from him at his home place etc etc. Still he had the courtsy to serve us tea in khakra leaves which we drank like rabaris!!!!!!!
Hats off to indian hospitality
I told my friend " Edison did not fail 2500 times but he discovered 2500 ways of how not to invent a bulb!!!!
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Who are the real Bread Winners!!
Reminiscing about my brief stay with the communities one particular incident left an everlasting impression on my mind and am sure so shall it influence every worker.
Having been assigned the task of touring some villages in Tehri during one of my training segments we had planned to tour some interior villages in the Upper Balganga valley (Origin point for one of the tributaries of the Ganges). En route to the village we saw women and men working in the fields. When the meeting started to our dismay we found that there was not even one man who was in a condition to talk. All of them were drunk and dead tired. One person in some of his senses told me that most of them have toiled hard in the field from morning till evening and are not in a condition to even sit straight. I asked him that may be the same should have been the case with the women. The even more surprising reply came that now they have to take care of the household as well. Gender definition of roles was crying for Redefinition.
In one further incidence at the Balaram-Ambaji Sanctuary in North Gujarat I religiously tried to follow my professors directions about mapping the gender based activity profiles of both the sexes. Having done the rapport building part when I zeroed onto the crux and sought the various junctures in the day when the respondent interacts with the Natural Resource Base (simply put to know when does she go to the forests to collected fuelwood and fodder) She burst into guffaws. The listeners felt that the lady was bit too shy to repond to an outsider like me.
Later on when she became a bit more familiar she told that she laughed because this is something, which comes so naturally to her so somebody’s curiosty at the same betrayed her comprehension.
A third piece of information from an erudite gentleman was a reiteration of my understanding. Those opposing alcoholism in the tribal culture must understand that had it been not for the country liquor that men and women relish so much, there would be crisis of nutrition amongst these people. That led me to remember something I read in the Health magazine - that alcohol is something that is assimilated first thing in the morning after you work-out to remove last night’s hangover. Somebody might as well call Mahua the national tree of India with its multi-dimensional uses and obsession with regards its ownership in the tribal patriarchy.
So what do we assimilate from these disjoint incidents –
The First incident taught me that the traditional gender definition of Roles does not hold good everywhere. Leaving aside the Vast Gangetic plains and the areas that served as the cradles of green revolution (Punjab and Haryana) most of the countryside has undulating terrain and topography. This is as much true for the Himalayas on the north, Sivaliks a bit further down, Aravallis bisecting the Thar from the Deccan, Satpuras and Vindhyas in the Heartland, Deccan Rocks in the Andhras, Nilgiris and those reputed hotspots of Biodiversity called the Western Ghats in South India, Maharashtra with its sprinkling of Hillocks crowned with Sivaji’s castles, The triplets of Garo, Khasi and Jaintias amongst the Seven Sisters of Assam so on so forth.
Most of these if not all have a complex mountain/hill farming system to rely upon for their food. If these are not forest laden they might have been in the past. The point is these lands comprise of the majority of area where India’s Natural Wealth is confined. Most of such lands have only subsistence agriculture to boast of and hardy but unproductive livestock to show.
This condition which the economists usually call the lack of factor productivity (Less of output despite consumption of more of input) has roots both in the nature as well as the culture. Strikinglty the tribal belt coincides with most of these areas. (8 % of India’s population and stretching right from the Vagad (Banswada and Dungarpur) in the West till the Assamese pigmies in the east, covering the gregarious Gonds and Bhils of MP and Chattisgarh, Santhals and others in Jharkhand and WB etc.
Apart from the Tribals we also have the other mountain dwelling communities that have somehow found the mother nature’s lap too irresistible to be weaned away from. HP and Uttarakhand today feel that their’s is a perfect example of the comparative advantage left unexploited.
Coming back to our gender definition of roles, we find that in all the above-mentioned areas the tradition definition of the division of labor (Again Gender Division of Labor) does not match the general patriarchal nature of the Indian Society. 20 Years ago an Urban Indian male would have felt ashamed had his wife worked to help the economy of the household. This task was somehow almost always was the hegemony of the male with the female supposed to look after the Janana pursuits like cooking, nurturing, feeding ……….
WAIT A MINUTE does that include only using the harvested crop or growing it in the first place.
That brings me to the implicit irony in the whole issue. In all the above mentioned communities that reduced factor productivity has led to heavy migration and dual lifestyles (6 months outside the home).
In Uttaranchal they call it the Money-Order economy, which has only one productive day in the month when they get the cheque from somebody serving in the army or a roadside hotel or a Dhaba.Full regiments of the Army are now comprising of Youth from a particular area. That has led to a further dichotomy that is seen within a village. With those households that have somebody working outside there might be Rs. 200,000 lying fallow in the house. Another might be trying to work in field to earn two square meal that day. The lone difference being the presence of a migrant in the family. This reminds me of the Soviet Era where they used to say – Only those families can get rationed bread that have old parents because only they have the time to stand in the queue waiting for their turn.
The direct result of this on the farming system was the increased burden on women-folk to assume the role of bread-growers. Thus we have another cadre of workers who have been forced to become breadwinners. Here we have also to remember that the traditional roles of the female in the House-keeping, Animal Husbandry etc stand as it is.
We must also remember that while this happens the dysfunctional PDS system fails to even reach such areas. When and where it does reach it is used up by the upper strata.
The whole dialogue brings to the fore increased drudgery on the women-folk. According to an estimate every Kg of Rice grown in Uttaranchal’s interior needs an investment of Rs 200 in terms of Labor input in activities like Preparation of fields, Canals, Terracing and Bunding etc. The Rs five per Kg that can be got from the Saharanpur Mandi notwithstanding.
Conditions in the Tribal Areas is no different. Only here either the male is considerate enough to be present during the sowing & harvesting season or may be he is not fortunate enough to get readymade jobs for himself. But here the pain is all the more excruciating. Having started from the hunter gatherer mould, settlement to the subsistence type agriculture(cut and burn, Shifting) was logical succession. The unending hunger for more land kept on growing for the tribals till the British Production Forestry model put a full stop to it. Post independence conservationism oriented but grossly understaffed forest department could only look in mute helplessness while this hunger for land manifested itself in the form of encroachments.
This brings me to the second incident -
The farming system here has continued to depend upon the forests. While earlier on it was just the use based pattern in recent times it became a coping mechanism to counter poverty. Wood-selling was resorted to by the people to earn that extra 10 Rupee. Forgot to mention, that laughing lady used to go every third day to the forests to bring a head-load of 20 Kgs (through a walk of 10 km) and used to sell it for 7-8 Rs at Hotels catering to the Ambaji Pilgrimage. This meant that leave along cultivating she was barely left capable after the days work to cook herself the square meal.
Collection of NTFPs, Fetching Fodder for the animals are some of the other examples of this drudgery that is taking its toll both on the natural resources as well as the health of these poor souls. But why Natural Resources ?? Having got tired of the torture wheel many seek to shortcuts. Being the primary forest users, I am sad to say they have proven to be irresponsible in their use practices. Cutting of the full tree to get goose-berries growing at the top, grazing cattle on the immature vegetation, sometimes one feels as if she is avenging the treatment meted out to her by her family. Interestingly in many areas the eldest girl child is invariable uneducated because she is the one who is supposed to feed her siblings as well as the four-legged companions when her mother goes out to work locally (may be some welcome drought relief work).
The defamed JFM Programme people say failed because it targeted the owners but not the users of the forests.
Finally it brings me to the last question
If they are happy in their bounded rationality with their two square meals a day earned from subsistence agriculture and a pinch of Mahudi to go with it, does it necessarily imply that they are unhappy??
Will say goodbye at that
Watch out for a small addition later on.
Having been assigned the task of touring some villages in Tehri during one of my training segments we had planned to tour some interior villages in the Upper Balganga valley (Origin point for one of the tributaries of the Ganges). En route to the village we saw women and men working in the fields. When the meeting started to our dismay we found that there was not even one man who was in a condition to talk. All of them were drunk and dead tired. One person in some of his senses told me that most of them have toiled hard in the field from morning till evening and are not in a condition to even sit straight. I asked him that may be the same should have been the case with the women. The even more surprising reply came that now they have to take care of the household as well. Gender definition of roles was crying for Redefinition.
In one further incidence at the Balaram-Ambaji Sanctuary in North Gujarat I religiously tried to follow my professors directions about mapping the gender based activity profiles of both the sexes. Having done the rapport building part when I zeroed onto the crux and sought the various junctures in the day when the respondent interacts with the Natural Resource Base (simply put to know when does she go to the forests to collected fuelwood and fodder) She burst into guffaws. The listeners felt that the lady was bit too shy to repond to an outsider like me.
Later on when she became a bit more familiar she told that she laughed because this is something, which comes so naturally to her so somebody’s curiosty at the same betrayed her comprehension.
A third piece of information from an erudite gentleman was a reiteration of my understanding. Those opposing alcoholism in the tribal culture must understand that had it been not for the country liquor that men and women relish so much, there would be crisis of nutrition amongst these people. That led me to remember something I read in the Health magazine - that alcohol is something that is assimilated first thing in the morning after you work-out to remove last night’s hangover. Somebody might as well call Mahua the national tree of India with its multi-dimensional uses and obsession with regards its ownership in the tribal patriarchy.
So what do we assimilate from these disjoint incidents –
The First incident taught me that the traditional gender definition of Roles does not hold good everywhere. Leaving aside the Vast Gangetic plains and the areas that served as the cradles of green revolution (Punjab and Haryana) most of the countryside has undulating terrain and topography. This is as much true for the Himalayas on the north, Sivaliks a bit further down, Aravallis bisecting the Thar from the Deccan, Satpuras and Vindhyas in the Heartland, Deccan Rocks in the Andhras, Nilgiris and those reputed hotspots of Biodiversity called the Western Ghats in South India, Maharashtra with its sprinkling of Hillocks crowned with Sivaji’s castles, The triplets of Garo, Khasi and Jaintias amongst the Seven Sisters of Assam so on so forth.
Most of these if not all have a complex mountain/hill farming system to rely upon for their food. If these are not forest laden they might have been in the past. The point is these lands comprise of the majority of area where India’s Natural Wealth is confined. Most of such lands have only subsistence agriculture to boast of and hardy but unproductive livestock to show.
This condition which the economists usually call the lack of factor productivity (Less of output despite consumption of more of input) has roots both in the nature as well as the culture. Strikinglty the tribal belt coincides with most of these areas. (8 % of India’s population and stretching right from the Vagad (Banswada and Dungarpur) in the West till the Assamese pigmies in the east, covering the gregarious Gonds and Bhils of MP and Chattisgarh, Santhals and others in Jharkhand and WB etc.
Apart from the Tribals we also have the other mountain dwelling communities that have somehow found the mother nature’s lap too irresistible to be weaned away from. HP and Uttarakhand today feel that their’s is a perfect example of the comparative advantage left unexploited.
Coming back to our gender definition of roles, we find that in all the above-mentioned areas the tradition definition of the division of labor (Again Gender Division of Labor) does not match the general patriarchal nature of the Indian Society. 20 Years ago an Urban Indian male would have felt ashamed had his wife worked to help the economy of the household. This task was somehow almost always was the hegemony of the male with the female supposed to look after the Janana pursuits like cooking, nurturing, feeding ……….
WAIT A MINUTE does that include only using the harvested crop or growing it in the first place.
That brings me to the implicit irony in the whole issue. In all the above mentioned communities that reduced factor productivity has led to heavy migration and dual lifestyles (6 months outside the home).
In Uttaranchal they call it the Money-Order economy, which has only one productive day in the month when they get the cheque from somebody serving in the army or a roadside hotel or a Dhaba.Full regiments of the Army are now comprising of Youth from a particular area. That has led to a further dichotomy that is seen within a village. With those households that have somebody working outside there might be Rs. 200,000 lying fallow in the house. Another might be trying to work in field to earn two square meal that day. The lone difference being the presence of a migrant in the family. This reminds me of the Soviet Era where they used to say – Only those families can get rationed bread that have old parents because only they have the time to stand in the queue waiting for their turn.
The direct result of this on the farming system was the increased burden on women-folk to assume the role of bread-growers. Thus we have another cadre of workers who have been forced to become breadwinners. Here we have also to remember that the traditional roles of the female in the House-keeping, Animal Husbandry etc stand as it is.
We must also remember that while this happens the dysfunctional PDS system fails to even reach such areas. When and where it does reach it is used up by the upper strata.
The whole dialogue brings to the fore increased drudgery on the women-folk. According to an estimate every Kg of Rice grown in Uttaranchal’s interior needs an investment of Rs 200 in terms of Labor input in activities like Preparation of fields, Canals, Terracing and Bunding etc. The Rs five per Kg that can be got from the Saharanpur Mandi notwithstanding.
Conditions in the Tribal Areas is no different. Only here either the male is considerate enough to be present during the sowing & harvesting season or may be he is not fortunate enough to get readymade jobs for himself. But here the pain is all the more excruciating. Having started from the hunter gatherer mould, settlement to the subsistence type agriculture(cut and burn, Shifting) was logical succession. The unending hunger for more land kept on growing for the tribals till the British Production Forestry model put a full stop to it. Post independence conservationism oriented but grossly understaffed forest department could only look in mute helplessness while this hunger for land manifested itself in the form of encroachments.
This brings me to the second incident -
The farming system here has continued to depend upon the forests. While earlier on it was just the use based pattern in recent times it became a coping mechanism to counter poverty. Wood-selling was resorted to by the people to earn that extra 10 Rupee. Forgot to mention, that laughing lady used to go every third day to the forests to bring a head-load of 20 Kgs (through a walk of 10 km) and used to sell it for 7-8 Rs at Hotels catering to the Ambaji Pilgrimage. This meant that leave along cultivating she was barely left capable after the days work to cook herself the square meal.
Collection of NTFPs, Fetching Fodder for the animals are some of the other examples of this drudgery that is taking its toll both on the natural resources as well as the health of these poor souls. But why Natural Resources ?? Having got tired of the torture wheel many seek to shortcuts. Being the primary forest users, I am sad to say they have proven to be irresponsible in their use practices. Cutting of the full tree to get goose-berries growing at the top, grazing cattle on the immature vegetation, sometimes one feels as if she is avenging the treatment meted out to her by her family. Interestingly in many areas the eldest girl child is invariable uneducated because she is the one who is supposed to feed her siblings as well as the four-legged companions when her mother goes out to work locally (may be some welcome drought relief work).
The defamed JFM Programme people say failed because it targeted the owners but not the users of the forests.
Finally it brings me to the last question
If they are happy in their bounded rationality with their two square meals a day earned from subsistence agriculture and a pinch of Mahudi to go with it, does it necessarily imply that they are unhappy??
Will say goodbye at that
Watch out for a small addition later on.
Who are the real Bread Winners!!
Reminiscing about my brief stay with the communities one particular incident left an everlasting impression on my mind and am sure so shall it influence every worker.
Having been assigned the task of touring some villages in Tehri during one of my training segments we had planned to tour some interior villages in the Upper Balganga valley (Origin point for one of the tributaries of the Ganges). En route to the village we saw women and men working in the fields. When the meeting started to our dismay we found that there was not even one man who was in a condition to talk. All of them were drunk and dead tired. One person in some of his senses told me that most of them have toiled hard in the field from morning till evening and are not in a condition to even sit straight. I asked him that may be the same should have been the case with the women. The even more surprising reply came that now they have to take care of the household as well. Gender definition of roles was crying for Redefinition.
In one further incidence at the Balaram-Ambaji Sanctuary in North Gujarat I religiously tried to follow my professors directions about mapping the gender based activity profiles of both the sexes. Having done the rapport building part when I zeroed onto the crux and sought the various junctures in the day when the respondent interacts with the Natural Resource Base (simply put to know when does she go to the forests to collected fuelwood and fodder) She burst into guffaws. The listeners felt that the lady was bit too shy to repond to an outsider like me.
Later on when she became a bit more familiar she told that she laughed because this is something, which comes so naturally to her so somebody’s curiosty at the same betrayed her comprehension.
A third piece of information from an erudite gentleman was a reiteration of my understanding. Those opposing alcoholism in the tribal culture must understand that had it been not for the country liquor that men and women relish so much, there would be crisis of nutrition amongst these people. That led me to remember something I read in the Health magazine - that alcohol is something that is assimilated first thing in the morning after you work-out to remove last night’s hangover. Somebody might as well call Mahua the national tree of India with its multi-dimensional uses and obsession with regards its ownership in the tribal patriarchy.
So what do we assimilate from these disjoint incidents –
The First incident taught me that the traditional gender definition of Roles does not hold good everywhere. Leaving aside the Vast Gangetic plains and the areas that served as the cradles of green revolution (Punjab and Haryana) most of the countryside has undulating terrain and topography. This is as much true for the Himalayas on the north, Sivaliks a bit further down, Aravallis bisecting the Thar from the Deccan, Satpuras and Vindhyas in the Heartland, Deccan Rocks in the Andhras, Nilgiris and those reputed hotspots of Biodiversity called the Western Ghats in South India, Maharashtra with its sprinkling of Hillocks crowned with Sivaji’s castles, The triplets of Garo, Khasi and Jaintias amongst the Seven Sisters of Assam so on so forth.
Most of these if not all have a complex mountain/hill farming system to rely upon for their food. If these are not forest laden they might have been in the past. The point is these lands comprise of the majority of area where India’s Natural Wealth is confined. Most of such lands have only subsistence agriculture to boast of and hardy but unproductive livestock to show.
This condition which the economists usually call the lack of factor productivity (Less of output despite consumption of more of input) has roots both in the nature as well as the culture. Strikinglty the tribal belt coincides with most of these areas. (8 % of India’s population and stretching right from the Vagad (Banswada and Dungarpur) in the West till the Assamese pigmies in the east, covering the gregarious Gonds and Bhils of MP and Chattisgarh, Santhals and others in Jharkhand and WB etc.
Apart from the Tribals we also have the other mountain dwelling communities that have somehow found the mother nature’s lap too irresistible to be weaned away from. HP and Uttarakhand today feel that their’s is a perfect example of the comparative advantage left unexploited.
Coming back to our gender definition of roles, we find that in all the above-mentioned areas the tradition definition of the division of labor (Again Gender Division of Labor) does not match the general patriarchal nature of the Indian Society. 20 Years ago an Urban Indian male would have felt ashamed had his wife worked to help the economy of the household. This task was somehow almost always was the hegemony of the male with the female supposed to look after the Janana pursuits like cooking, nurturing, feeding ……….
WAIT A MINUTE does that include only using the harvested crop or growing it in the first place.
That brings me to the implicit irony in the whole issue. In all the above mentioned communities that reduced factor productivity has led to heavy migration and dual lifestyles (6 months outside the home).
In Uttaranchal they call it the Money-Order economy, which has only one productive day in the month when they get the cheque from somebody serving in the army or a roadside hotel or a Dhaba.Full regiments of the Army are now comprising of Youth from a particular area. That has led to a further dichotomy that is seen within a village. With those households that have somebody working outside there might be Rs. 200,000 lying fallow in the house. Another might be trying to work in field to earn two square meal that day. The lone difference being the presence of a migrant in the family. This reminds me of the Soviet Era where they used to say – Only those families can get rationed bread that have old parents because only they have the time to stand in the queue waiting for their turn.
The direct result of this on the farming system was the increased burden on women-folk to assume the role of bread-growers. Thus we have another cadre of workers who have been forced to become breadwinners. Here we have also to remember that the traditional roles of the female in the House-keeping, Animal Husbandry etc stand as it is.
We must also remember that while this happens the dysfunctional PDS system fails to even reach such areas. When and where it does reach it is used up by the upper strata.
The whole dialogue brings to the fore increased drudgery on the women-folk. According to an estimate every Kg of Rice grown in Uttaranchal’s interior needs an investment of Rs 200 in terms of Labor input in activities like Preparation of fields, Canals, Terracing and Bunding etc. The Rs five per Kg that can be got from the Saharanpur Mandi notwithstanding.
Conditions in the Tribal Areas is no different. Only here either the male is considerate enough to be present during the sowing & harvesting season or may be he is not fortunate enough to get readymade jobs for himself. But here the pain is all the more excruciating. Having started from the hunter gatherer mould, settlement to the subsistence type agriculture(cut and burn, Shifting) was logical succession. The unending hunger for more land kept on growing for the tribals till the British Production Forestry model put a full stop to it. Post independence conservationism oriented but grossly understaffed forest department could only look in mute helplessness while this hunger for land manifested itself in the form of encroachments.
This brings me to the second incident -
The farming system here has continued to depend upon the forests. While earlier on it was just the use based pattern in recent times it became a coping mechanism to counter poverty. Wood-selling was resorted to by the people to earn that extra 10 Rupee. Forgot to mention, that laughing lady used to go every third day to the forests to bring a head-load of 20 Kgs (through a walk of 10 km) and used to sell it for 7-8 Rs at Hotels catering to the Ambaji Pilgrimage. This meant that leave along cultivating she was barely left capable after the days work to cook herself the square meal.
Collection of NTFPs, Fetching Fodder for the animals are some of the other examples of this drudgery that is taking its toll both on the natural resources as well as the health of these poor souls. But why Natural Resources ?? Having got tired of the torture wheel many seek to shortcuts. Being the primary forest users, I am sad to say they have proven to be irresponsible in their use practices. Cutting of the full tree to get goose-berries growing at the top, grazing cattle on the immature vegetation, sometimes one feels as if she is avenging the treatment meted out to her by her family. Interestingly in many areas the eldest girl child is invariable uneducated because she is the one who is supposed to feed her siblings as well as the four-legged companions when her mother goes out to work locally (may be some welcome drought relief work).
The defamed JFM Programme people say failed because it targeted the owners but not the users of the forests.
Finally it brings me to the last question
If they are happy in their bounded rationality with their two square meals a day earned from subsistence agriculture and a pinch of Mahudi to go with it, does it necessarily imply that they are unhappy??
Will say goodbye at that
Watch out for a small addition later on.
Having been assigned the task of touring some villages in Tehri during one of my training segments we had planned to tour some interior villages in the Upper Balganga valley (Origin point for one of the tributaries of the Ganges). En route to the village we saw women and men working in the fields. When the meeting started to our dismay we found that there was not even one man who was in a condition to talk. All of them were drunk and dead tired. One person in some of his senses told me that most of them have toiled hard in the field from morning till evening and are not in a condition to even sit straight. I asked him that may be the same should have been the case with the women. The even more surprising reply came that now they have to take care of the household as well. Gender definition of roles was crying for Redefinition.
In one further incidence at the Balaram-Ambaji Sanctuary in North Gujarat I religiously tried to follow my professors directions about mapping the gender based activity profiles of both the sexes. Having done the rapport building part when I zeroed onto the crux and sought the various junctures in the day when the respondent interacts with the Natural Resource Base (simply put to know when does she go to the forests to collected fuelwood and fodder) She burst into guffaws. The listeners felt that the lady was bit too shy to repond to an outsider like me.
Later on when she became a bit more familiar she told that she laughed because this is something, which comes so naturally to her so somebody’s curiosty at the same betrayed her comprehension.
A third piece of information from an erudite gentleman was a reiteration of my understanding. Those opposing alcoholism in the tribal culture must understand that had it been not for the country liquor that men and women relish so much, there would be crisis of nutrition amongst these people. That led me to remember something I read in the Health magazine - that alcohol is something that is assimilated first thing in the morning after you work-out to remove last night’s hangover. Somebody might as well call Mahua the national tree of India with its multi-dimensional uses and obsession with regards its ownership in the tribal patriarchy.
So what do we assimilate from these disjoint incidents –
The First incident taught me that the traditional gender definition of Roles does not hold good everywhere. Leaving aside the Vast Gangetic plains and the areas that served as the cradles of green revolution (Punjab and Haryana) most of the countryside has undulating terrain and topography. This is as much true for the Himalayas on the north, Sivaliks a bit further down, Aravallis bisecting the Thar from the Deccan, Satpuras and Vindhyas in the Heartland, Deccan Rocks in the Andhras, Nilgiris and those reputed hotspots of Biodiversity called the Western Ghats in South India, Maharashtra with its sprinkling of Hillocks crowned with Sivaji’s castles, The triplets of Garo, Khasi and Jaintias amongst the Seven Sisters of Assam so on so forth.
Most of these if not all have a complex mountain/hill farming system to rely upon for their food. If these are not forest laden they might have been in the past. The point is these lands comprise of the majority of area where India’s Natural Wealth is confined. Most of such lands have only subsistence agriculture to boast of and hardy but unproductive livestock to show.
This condition which the economists usually call the lack of factor productivity (Less of output despite consumption of more of input) has roots both in the nature as well as the culture. Strikinglty the tribal belt coincides with most of these areas. (8 % of India’s population and stretching right from the Vagad (Banswada and Dungarpur) in the West till the Assamese pigmies in the east, covering the gregarious Gonds and Bhils of MP and Chattisgarh, Santhals and others in Jharkhand and WB etc.
Apart from the Tribals we also have the other mountain dwelling communities that have somehow found the mother nature’s lap too irresistible to be weaned away from. HP and Uttarakhand today feel that their’s is a perfect example of the comparative advantage left unexploited.
Coming back to our gender definition of roles, we find that in all the above-mentioned areas the tradition definition of the division of labor (Again Gender Division of Labor) does not match the general patriarchal nature of the Indian Society. 20 Years ago an Urban Indian male would have felt ashamed had his wife worked to help the economy of the household. This task was somehow almost always was the hegemony of the male with the female supposed to look after the Janana pursuits like cooking, nurturing, feeding ……….
WAIT A MINUTE does that include only using the harvested crop or growing it in the first place.
That brings me to the implicit irony in the whole issue. In all the above mentioned communities that reduced factor productivity has led to heavy migration and dual lifestyles (6 months outside the home).
In Uttaranchal they call it the Money-Order economy, which has only one productive day in the month when they get the cheque from somebody serving in the army or a roadside hotel or a Dhaba.Full regiments of the Army are now comprising of Youth from a particular area. That has led to a further dichotomy that is seen within a village. With those households that have somebody working outside there might be Rs. 200,000 lying fallow in the house. Another might be trying to work in field to earn two square meal that day. The lone difference being the presence of a migrant in the family. This reminds me of the Soviet Era where they used to say – Only those families can get rationed bread that have old parents because only they have the time to stand in the queue waiting for their turn.
The direct result of this on the farming system was the increased burden on women-folk to assume the role of bread-growers. Thus we have another cadre of workers who have been forced to become breadwinners. Here we have also to remember that the traditional roles of the female in the House-keeping, Animal Husbandry etc stand as it is.
We must also remember that while this happens the dysfunctional PDS system fails to even reach such areas. When and where it does reach it is used up by the upper strata.
The whole dialogue brings to the fore increased drudgery on the women-folk. According to an estimate every Kg of Rice grown in Uttaranchal’s interior needs an investment of Rs 200 in terms of Labor input in activities like Preparation of fields, Canals, Terracing and Bunding etc. The Rs five per Kg that can be got from the Saharanpur Mandi notwithstanding.
Conditions in the Tribal Areas is no different. Only here either the male is considerate enough to be present during the sowing & harvesting season or may be he is not fortunate enough to get readymade jobs for himself. But here the pain is all the more excruciating. Having started from the hunter gatherer mould, settlement to the subsistence type agriculture(cut and burn, Shifting) was logical succession. The unending hunger for more land kept on growing for the tribals till the British Production Forestry model put a full stop to it. Post independence conservationism oriented but grossly understaffed forest department could only look in mute helplessness while this hunger for land manifested itself in the form of encroachments.
This brings me to the second incident -
The farming system here has continued to depend upon the forests. While earlier on it was just the use based pattern in recent times it became a coping mechanism to counter poverty. Wood-selling was resorted to by the people to earn that extra 10 Rupee. Forgot to mention, that laughing lady used to go every third day to the forests to bring a head-load of 20 Kgs (through a walk of 10 km) and used to sell it for 7-8 Rs at Hotels catering to the Ambaji Pilgrimage. This meant that leave along cultivating she was barely left capable after the days work to cook herself the square meal.
Collection of NTFPs, Fetching Fodder for the animals are some of the other examples of this drudgery that is taking its toll both on the natural resources as well as the health of these poor souls. But why Natural Resources ?? Having got tired of the torture wheel many seek to shortcuts. Being the primary forest users, I am sad to say they have proven to be irresponsible in their use practices. Cutting of the full tree to get goose-berries growing at the top, grazing cattle on the immature vegetation, sometimes one feels as if she is avenging the treatment meted out to her by her family. Interestingly in many areas the eldest girl child is invariable uneducated because she is the one who is supposed to feed her siblings as well as the four-legged companions when her mother goes out to work locally (may be some welcome drought relief work).
The defamed JFM Programme people say failed because it targeted the owners but not the users of the forests.
Finally it brings me to the last question
If they are happy in their bounded rationality with their two square meals a day earned from subsistence agriculture and a pinch of Mahudi to go with it, does it necessarily imply that they are unhappy??
Will say goodbye at that
Watch out for a small addition later on.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
It will not make you Green with Envy???
Aaj 300 km travelling kar ke 4 meeting attend ki.
Ek gaon main khatedari chak(plantation on revenue land) ka Shilanyas kiya.
Doosre gaon main gaya to logon ne virodh kiya ki Pasture land par plantation karoge to humare janwar kahan charenge.
Tisre gaon main gaya to Logon ne Joint Forest Management Site pe Gaon walon ne apne Maveshi chara diye.
It sometimes makes u wonder about hte development paradigms of today. On one hand people and the government are crying foul about the needs of the people to do afforestation, but at the same time when you actually start doing it people come up with umpteen number of reasons for not being able to sustain the same.
It really is an Irony.
Any comments ???????????
Ek gaon main khatedari chak(plantation on revenue land) ka Shilanyas kiya.
Doosre gaon main gaya to logon ne virodh kiya ki Pasture land par plantation karoge to humare janwar kahan charenge.
Tisre gaon main gaya to Logon ne Joint Forest Management Site pe Gaon walon ne apne Maveshi chara diye.
It sometimes makes u wonder about hte development paradigms of today. On one hand people and the government are crying foul about the needs of the people to do afforestation, but at the same time when you actually start doing it people come up with umpteen number of reasons for not being able to sustain the same.
It really is an Irony.
Any comments ???????????
Monday, January 02, 2006
Phony Feline (pertaining to a cat) Adventure (Part One)
Settings - GIR NATIONAL PARK AND SANCTUARY. October 2004
Aap kya rechars(research) kane aye ho? asked.
(Are u here for research work)? This was the first question asked of me by the big moustache bearing guard as I entered the Gir National park and Sanctuary.
Nahin Ghumne (no for tourism). I answered warily having pushed all kinds of research out of my mind.
Yahaan ek ladki aayi thi sher ki moos pe rechars karne ke liye.
(A girl had come here to do research on the whiskers of the lions. )
On the whiskers!!!!!! I sneered. I thought I should confirm about the anatomy of the lions’s face but having procured the entrance to the sanctuary a week before the official opening time(15 october), I had more ambitious plans. I was leaving the same day for my present job at Udaipur to join on 10th of October.
(My friends’ friends father was conservator of forests for the park so as a parting gift the friend had arranged a special free entry for me to the park.)
For a brief moment I also went down the memory lane to the horrendous act that I had carried out on my pet bitch a year ago. She was already in the twilight of her age (15 years to be precise). I had brought her home when I was barely 3 feet and my hair were touching my mom’s(5feet 10 inch) elbows.
Now my mom’s hair as well as my own hair were touching my shoulder. (I am now 6 feet two). Since the dog did not look young enough in her white whiskers I had clipped them off, not in the least aware that they could be subjects of such important research.
For the present I decided to keep my mouth shut and proceed to the ticket counter. A minute later the mini bus came to escort us to a short safari. Having faced allegations of the disappearing lions the part authorities of the last surviving abode of the Asiatic lion had decided to build an enclosure that could keep the lions confined long enough for people to be confident that lions are still not extinct.
As per the claim they were 325 in number. I had heard of the so called over dense teak forests of junagadh which has restricted the free hunting of these felines and hence they had migrated to the coastal areas of Kodinar (My residence Ambuja Cements’ HQ)as well as the more luxurious outskirts of Diu. The foundation had reported cases of Lions chasing away people at night or just blocking the roads for fun in the interior areas. But I was unfortunate enough never to have seen them as I always needed to catch up with the Jungle book episode at 6.30 in my furnished flat.
At last I got to see the pride who were in a situation that could be anything but worth taking pride of. Four of them were crouching in an undignified manner as if they were posing for crouching tiger hidden dragon.
I mumbled (Jhukela sher, Thakela sher) to the chagrin of the guide.
Secondly they were trapped between the steel wiring and the more hideous body of the canter leaving them no choice but to pose for amateurs like me with more amateur equipment like camera on a mobile etc.( This camera is not capable of distinguishing a jungle cat from house cat if the snap is taken from more than two feet away.) I was anyways keeping a distance of 20 feet to be on the safer side.
The way one of them turned their head back reminded me of Kate(read CAT) Winslet in Titanic. At least these cats were gracious enough to show their faces. (The forest department people at Ranthambore I think are these days looking for hiding their faces)
Phony Feline (pertaining to a cat)Adventure (Part TWO)
Settings - RANTHAMBORE NATIONAL PARK AND SANCTUARY. Feb 2005
The gigantic gates erected half a millenium ago stood like sentinels before the santuary. It seemed to me as if the gates were forbidding the visitors to respect the dignity of the Tigers.
Caravan after Caravan of Vehicles stormed through the gates bypassing Mighty Ganeshji as well as Monumental Ranthambore fort. The tourists entered the santuary as if they were possesssed. Their single point agenda was to shoot either the tiger or his tail. If not at least to trace his toe or tooth marks.
Ranthambore Sanctuary is dotted with water bodies that serve as biodiversity hotspots as well as water points for the thirsty animals. For tigers and Crocs they were nothing more than bathing joints. But with so much visitors I guess they were getting ashamed of their cavorting ways.
A herd of ubiquitous neelgais caught my fancy and I decided to flaunt my mobile. But the Parsi community on my canter were more interested in shooting birds. I felt like shooing all of them away with some stone or camera.( both were in plenty around).
There were various routes that were being alloted for the safari vehicles and I could not get head and tail about the fight that took place at the registration counter about route no 5 and 6. To me tigers were not involved in match fixing anyways. I did not know that the honorable PM Shri Manmohan Singhji shall prove me wrong within two months.
To keep a long story short, the whole day we had to be content with watching neelgais going green with envy at us. Nothing was heard about the Tigers or his tales for the whole day. One Pug mark was the only saving grace that I could show for my 12 hour journey from Udaipur – Bundee – Ranthambore.
I cursed the panchayats of Jhadol for keeping their elections at such an inauspicious moment.
But my anger turned into happiness the very next day when I read the local newspaper at the Kota railway station.The news read – TIGER DOES NOT RESPECT THE VICE ADMIRAL. I was grateful to it for having shown equal contempt for all and sundry.
( To add insult to Injury I missed the train for Udaipur as well and passed the night chatting with a new acquaintance I made at Ranthambore. This guy turned out to be a carpenter from Plymouth and a backpacker on a tight budget at that. Having intially ignored him in the canter during the safari I could not resist having a shoulder to cry upon regarding my misadventure.( He too was frustrated at having missed the Tiger by a Whisker). I advised him to instead go to Rudyard Kiplings dream place called Bundi.( After all Rudyard Kipling had some inkling of what is going to become of ranthambore one day so he kept himself fruitfully occupied with Bundee’s Fort rather than the Ganeshji wala fort of Ranthambore.)
Phony Ursine (pertaining to a bear) Adventure (Part Three)
Settings – JESSORE SLOTH BEAR SANCTUARY. Dec 2003
To be continued if possible and appreciated ………………
Phony Vulpine (pertaining to a fox) Adventure (Part four)
Settings – JAISAMAND LAKE AND SANCTUARY. JAN 2005
Aap kya rechars(research) kane aye ho? asked.
(Are u here for research work)? This was the first question asked of me by the big moustache bearing guard as I entered the Gir National park and Sanctuary.
Nahin Ghumne (no for tourism). I answered warily having pushed all kinds of research out of my mind.
Yahaan ek ladki aayi thi sher ki moos pe rechars karne ke liye.
(A girl had come here to do research on the whiskers of the lions. )
On the whiskers!!!!!! I sneered. I thought I should confirm about the anatomy of the lions’s face but having procured the entrance to the sanctuary a week before the official opening time(15 october), I had more ambitious plans. I was leaving the same day for my present job at Udaipur to join on 10th of October.
(My friends’ friends father was conservator of forests for the park so as a parting gift the friend had arranged a special free entry for me to the park.)
For a brief moment I also went down the memory lane to the horrendous act that I had carried out on my pet bitch a year ago. She was already in the twilight of her age (15 years to be precise). I had brought her home when I was barely 3 feet and my hair were touching my mom’s(5feet 10 inch) elbows.
Now my mom’s hair as well as my own hair were touching my shoulder. (I am now 6 feet two). Since the dog did not look young enough in her white whiskers I had clipped them off, not in the least aware that they could be subjects of such important research.
For the present I decided to keep my mouth shut and proceed to the ticket counter. A minute later the mini bus came to escort us to a short safari. Having faced allegations of the disappearing lions the part authorities of the last surviving abode of the Asiatic lion had decided to build an enclosure that could keep the lions confined long enough for people to be confident that lions are still not extinct.
As per the claim they were 325 in number. I had heard of the so called over dense teak forests of junagadh which has restricted the free hunting of these felines and hence they had migrated to the coastal areas of Kodinar (My residence Ambuja Cements’ HQ)as well as the more luxurious outskirts of Diu. The foundation had reported cases of Lions chasing away people at night or just blocking the roads for fun in the interior areas. But I was unfortunate enough never to have seen them as I always needed to catch up with the Jungle book episode at 6.30 in my furnished flat.
At last I got to see the pride who were in a situation that could be anything but worth taking pride of. Four of them were crouching in an undignified manner as if they were posing for crouching tiger hidden dragon.
I mumbled (Jhukela sher, Thakela sher) to the chagrin of the guide.
Secondly they were trapped between the steel wiring and the more hideous body of the canter leaving them no choice but to pose for amateurs like me with more amateur equipment like camera on a mobile etc.( This camera is not capable of distinguishing a jungle cat from house cat if the snap is taken from more than two feet away.) I was anyways keeping a distance of 20 feet to be on the safer side.
The way one of them turned their head back reminded me of Kate(read CAT) Winslet in Titanic. At least these cats were gracious enough to show their faces. (The forest department people at Ranthambore I think are these days looking for hiding their faces)
Phony Feline (pertaining to a cat)Adventure (Part TWO)
Settings - RANTHAMBORE NATIONAL PARK AND SANCTUARY. Feb 2005
The gigantic gates erected half a millenium ago stood like sentinels before the santuary. It seemed to me as if the gates were forbidding the visitors to respect the dignity of the Tigers.
Caravan after Caravan of Vehicles stormed through the gates bypassing Mighty Ganeshji as well as Monumental Ranthambore fort. The tourists entered the santuary as if they were possesssed. Their single point agenda was to shoot either the tiger or his tail. If not at least to trace his toe or tooth marks.
Ranthambore Sanctuary is dotted with water bodies that serve as biodiversity hotspots as well as water points for the thirsty animals. For tigers and Crocs they were nothing more than bathing joints. But with so much visitors I guess they were getting ashamed of their cavorting ways.
A herd of ubiquitous neelgais caught my fancy and I decided to flaunt my mobile. But the Parsi community on my canter were more interested in shooting birds. I felt like shooing all of them away with some stone or camera.( both were in plenty around).
There were various routes that were being alloted for the safari vehicles and I could not get head and tail about the fight that took place at the registration counter about route no 5 and 6. To me tigers were not involved in match fixing anyways. I did not know that the honorable PM Shri Manmohan Singhji shall prove me wrong within two months.
To keep a long story short, the whole day we had to be content with watching neelgais going green with envy at us. Nothing was heard about the Tigers or his tales for the whole day. One Pug mark was the only saving grace that I could show for my 12 hour journey from Udaipur – Bundee – Ranthambore.
I cursed the panchayats of Jhadol for keeping their elections at such an inauspicious moment.
But my anger turned into happiness the very next day when I read the local newspaper at the Kota railway station.The news read – TIGER DOES NOT RESPECT THE VICE ADMIRAL. I was grateful to it for having shown equal contempt for all and sundry.
( To add insult to Injury I missed the train for Udaipur as well and passed the night chatting with a new acquaintance I made at Ranthambore. This guy turned out to be a carpenter from Plymouth and a backpacker on a tight budget at that. Having intially ignored him in the canter during the safari I could not resist having a shoulder to cry upon regarding my misadventure.( He too was frustrated at having missed the Tiger by a Whisker). I advised him to instead go to Rudyard Kiplings dream place called Bundi.( After all Rudyard Kipling had some inkling of what is going to become of ranthambore one day so he kept himself fruitfully occupied with Bundee’s Fort rather than the Ganeshji wala fort of Ranthambore.)
Phony Ursine (pertaining to a bear) Adventure (Part Three)
Settings – JESSORE SLOTH BEAR SANCTUARY. Dec 2003
To be continued if possible and appreciated ………………
Phony Vulpine (pertaining to a fox) Adventure (Part four)
Settings – JAISAMAND LAKE AND SANCTUARY. JAN 2005
Masar Taal – A Trekky problem
“Aa jao bhai ,aa jao apni apni samasya bata do. baad main mat kehna ki koi poochne waala nahin hai .bahut door se aaye hain,gujrat se.”
(Come on tell your problems to them. otherwise don’t complain that nobody asks u people. they have come a very distant place called Gujarat)
Are sahab kuch hota jaata to hai hi nahin ,roz koi na koi aata rehta hai
(Nothing happens, daily some or the other person comes)
Nahin is baar hoga.do sao rupai ke hotel main ruke hain.
(This time it will happen as they are staying in hotel worth 200 Rs.)
The words of Rakesh Gairola our escort and guide, still reverberates against my empty top floor. Frankly we did not have much clue as to how our presence could be of direct help to the people we were talking to. But all the same it was a learning experience for us. This learning curve was on a sure shot decline as we finished our 27th village in 15 days taking lessons in trekking in the villages and plucking out leeches from the tattered chappels.
We were supposed to be having our Sundays off during our fieldwork but here even that impudence was not desired of us. But as they say fortune favours the brave and therefore before leaving that 200 Rupai waala hotel with stinking combined toilet and putting up with loitering visitors at the next-door one-room branch office of our host organisation we had something to cheer about.
The news was that our reporting officer was to come here for some personal errand and therefore we can also stay till he goes back to work (and off-course to receive our report of some meeting we were supposed to attend) at Rishikesh. This time we were accompanied not by Gairola but Chamola. Jagdamba Prasad Chamola to be precise incidentally the first name was same as our host organisation. (Jagdamba Samiti) so we rechristened this PG in physics as chamoljee). He was on the wrong side of 20s and of stocky built.
The agenda – 5 villages in 3 days. Progress above target. With nothing else to do at day break I got into chat with somebody while looking at the Bhilangana River overflowing with melting ice.
Yahaan koi ghumne ki jagah nahin hai kya??(Isn’t there any place to roam about here.)?
Hai na saheb (There is( Masar Taal)
Immediately I took out the map of Uttaranchal and gave a valiant effort at locating it. What I found as a poor substitute was Masap Tal a lake near Sahasra taal (which anybody of with any capability in adventure tourism used to brag about at Ghansali branch-office)
We decided to move to the next village but on our way my delaying tactics convinced my companions especially Chamola that I was in no mood to be on the learning curve. So we decided to have a go at Masar Tal. (Perfectly legitimate move, as it was anyway a Sunday.)
The fellow who had given the suggestion had warned us in good faith not to go there without an escort. Our attempts at getting one failed miserably at the last village (kot) we left behind.
The trek was supposed to be a climb of 8-10 km at a degree of 45 from horizontal vision. The standard time to be taken was 5-6 hours and hence there was a chance that we could get delayed in returning so our primary worry when we started out was to get back the same day. What we did not think was the normalised score of our walking speeds which was not even half of the local Herculean.
But with faith in our hearts we embarked in the direction pointed by a chaiwala hoping to meet some shepherd enroute’. We did get one but he was returning back. But like any bad Hindi movie he gave us a rough sketch of the route on the back of my railway ticket from indore to Haridwar (reimbursement was completed long ago). The sketch was replete with springs, stones and an idol of lord Ganesha for good measure.
One word about the climate, which could not have been better. Sun was in its fullest glory with only a glimpse of black clouds towards north.
The time was one of clock and we had 7 km to go. (Shortest possible distance).
By 3 o clock all my mistaken notions of my fitness and muscularity and the lack of it in my partner had evaporated into thin air. Chamola the stocky Garhwal was leading from the front.
One mark was the barren fields after two kms but it being rainy season it was difficult to tell which places were actually barren except Chamola’s and my friends’ shining skulls dripping with sweat.After trying out three roots and number of heuristic measures we proceeded on the wrong route only to return after half an hour to the correct one.
The climate had taken a u-turn (a very characteristic feature when u are 4000 metre above sea-level). Uncle sun was nowhere to be seen and there was ample fog to screen a filmy song.
The Ganesha idol was nowhere to be seen at 5 o clock when we reached a meadow. My heart leapt out of my eyes when I saw a shepherd coming but the same object sank to its deepest depth when he told us that we were only half way thru.
The fog had now descended to cover the trek completely and it was difficult to see beyond 7-8 metres. But thankfully the trek was well trodden by god-fearing simpletons. The Ganesha idol of some medieval time presented itself at 6 o clock. Thirst and fatigue had taken their toll on all of us but I being the one most challenged in terms of stamina displayed clear signs of agony and self-directed abuse. (After all it was I who suggested this stupid move).
By the time it was 6.30 we were dripping with fog-induced sweat. The only pouch of electral cherished from the fieldwork medicine kit was the last resort. Half a spoon full was hardly sufficient for my 6’2” frame. Million thanx to Prof Chowdary and Dr. Balchandani.
My partners were busier analysing the route to look at me. From this position returning back was an unthinkable step and it seemed to be a never-ending torture. Our feet were numbed with tiredness but the sheer lollipop of getting something to eat once we reach that place was pushing us forward. I was resorting to occasionally stoppages to pluck wild strawberries no bigger than groundnuts (but tasting like heaven.)
Finally when we reached the landmark (a waterfall) I again took the lead (or rather was given it so that I won’t vanish in the fog) .At 7.30 sharp my partner gave a loud shout.
I was too mellowed to rush but still stumbled somehow to where he was standing; the fog did not allow us to see beyond 3-4 feet away. He was dumb with happiness. He picked a stone and threw it down the ridge. Splash!!!! We were there!!!!!!!!
All three of us started shouting like kids hoping that some well-meaning shepherd would take us to the dharamshala (that’s what we were told existed there)
After some time a feeble voice beckoned us to walk round the lake. The bet with Chamola to reach Masar Taal first was still in place and I flung myself full force ahead of him.
A cottage was faintly visible and I collapsed like a marathon athlete (although a fraud one) in front of it. A man standing there took our wherewithal and told us something that went like a spear through our joy.
Yahaan to sab apna bandobast karke aate hain.tumhare paas kuch hai tent wagairah.
(Here everybody brings his own paraphrenelia.do u have tent etc???)
We had only two small bags with one change to boast of.
He suggested that we check out with some sadhu living in a small temple nearby. We had thought that the worst was over but fate wanted something else from us.
The brave garhwali Chamola came forward and told us to wait till he talks with some shepherds if they could give us shelter for the night. It was 8 o clocks and the wretched forest guard had given his torch to Chamola.
If this was not enough, now it had started raining. The lake was not fully visible except for the semblance of being near a waterbody. I talked with the sadhu who directed me towards a ramshackle shed (but agreed to give us shelter in his cottage.)
Presently Chamola came and asked me. I told him what transpired between the sadhu and me. The fool that he was he had not fully negotiated the stay part but only the food.
We went to the nearby cottage with hopes of getting shelter. Now it was pouring like cats n dogs and my windsheeter proved to be useless appendage once more.
That night I would have eaten 15-20 rotis at the least estimate and for the first time in my life I realised the true marginal utility of food. The old shepherd lived with two small kids and his wife who was anywhere near 60-65 in age. My gluttony only ended partially because I was feeling ashamed and completely because my headgear (a makeshift bandana) fell into the remnant of Sabji (vegetable) left behind. I later saw small insects freely roaming about and all this while I was thinking that they were some sort of spice in the food. Anyways now I was feeling a bit better.
Since the place where we ate was actually a cowshed so we decided to take some blanket and retreat to the temple. The retreat took us half an hour and I cursed everything under the hidden sun and pouring rain.
When we entered the ramshackle shed we found that it was filled up with cow dung in some systematic manner. Only option left was to enter the sadhu who appeared to be a suspicious character. We somehow mustered courage and gave a knock at the door.
He asked us to enter. He had a long mane and a muscular body, by no chance an old person that we thought him to be. He was happy to see new faces after an interval of six months (this place as we were told is only frequented during dusshera by the localites) he directed us to a corner of his cottage, which we found to be not very different from the cottage we just left behind. But to venture into rain was something, which was impossible to do.
With heavy hearts we settled for this place to spend our nite and rued the moment when we had left the shepherds cow shed. The roof was dripping like a sieve. We somehow managed to get a dry place and collapsed on the semi-dry leaves that were to be our mattresses.
Surprisingly none of us fell asleep, partly because of the sheer tiredness and partly because we were feeling like lord Shiva with a drip irrigation system on the top.
When I woke at 4 in the morning there were sounds of heated discussion going between Chamola and the sadhu. My neck was paining like anything as I found there was a pyramid shaped pebble just underneath.
This is what I heard.
Chamola: “baba how do u manage living here.”
Baba: I don’t need anything here.
Chamola: but food
Baba: I have not eaten for 3 months.
Chamola: but why. (Shocked)
Baba: people like u don’t know about meditation
Chamola: I also practise religion.
Baba: that is nothing but fraud.
Chamola: how can u say so…?
Etc.
The voice subsided after some time, as had the overnight rainfall. Chamola seemed to have gone outside.I woke up at 6 o clock again to find that baba was muttering something about true sadhna and Jap. (Meditation)I somehow gathered my tattered body and went outside.
The scene that presented itself before me brushed away all anxiety, tiredness, fear, remorse and a hundred negative passions from my mind.
Spread just outside was a lake of majestic beauty and which was surrounded by meadows spread over the horizon as far as eye could see.
On the southern side were the majestic mountains blue in their hue and which could have been a part of any picture postcard.
I took a full circle of the lake and shot as many snaps as were permissible with my meagre budget.i also realised why it was not on he tourist map.actually the lake was a result of a small dam built across the mouth of a basin.under this wall I managed to clean my soiled bandana!!!
The place
This place hewn in majestic glory has been secluded from the human eye from time immemorial not because people don’t know about it but because of the sheer amount of effort required to reach here and the subsequent vagaries and unpredicatability of the place. As far as I could see it was just a green carpet strewn with a riot of colors, courtesy flowers of different genera. Just adjacent to the main lake were two smaller lakes serving as buffers for the main one. When I was taking a round tour just for a trifle moment uncle sun did me a great favor and there stood before me three peaks each of a different color.(green,blue and white)the green one seemed to be covered with some sort of moss,the blue one was completely rocky and the third one had still some snow on it.before I could gather my breath and camera the scene was wrenched away by merciless clouds.
The hermit told me that this place was in full sun just a day ago and last year was covered knee deep in snow. The most wonderful thing that he told me was that this place is the old trek route through which people used to go to kedarnath, via sahasratal. This sahasratal is totally devoid of any vegetation and is considered to be the only place where u get the true shilajeet (a so called panacea for all ailments.) on asking he told me that a trek of two more days will take us to that place from where kedarnath was just a stone’s throw accroding to him.i soliloquised that will I be able to lift even my eyelids once I am there what to talk of stones etc??
The sadhu took assurances from me that I will send him his snaps(which I did eventually).to my surprise when I asked him how on earth is he going to get them, he said that the shepherd come here in batches and then remain here till autumn.so he hopes to get them the same way he got from an English trekker who had come from mussorie.
Later on when I told Mr. LP Semwal(our reporting officer) about my adventure he recalled his trek to sahasratal and then recalled a night when on a similar fateful nite he and 5 of his mates were stranded under snowfall and had to lie in sheep-shed 4 feet tall (to escape the winds).
He further on added that the spirit of eco-tourism can only be upheld by people like those shepherd who offer selfless help in such times and charge only a smile for it.
I tought that just as badrinath is called uttaranchals biggest factory,these treasures should be called the biggest inventory.with this my resolve of repeated visits every year to this place got firm.
We started back at about 11 o clock for the return journey. The overnight rain had rendered all the dormant springs vibrancy and many were flowing like small rivulets.
The return journey was uneventful except for the fall I had while running down the meadow. I finally came to a halt after sliding over 12-13 feet and having a nice sensation on the lower and hind part of my body.
The scratch that I carried from here subsequently developed into a swollen ankle which made me subject of ample unwanted sympathy for the rest of my OTS and rendered me incapable of further such adventures.On our return to Rishikesh I read a headline, which said that 3 houses had collapsed on that fateful night in Dehradun city because of torrential rain.
To think of searching shelter near Masar Taal was not a bad idea after all.!!!!!!!!!!!11
(Come on tell your problems to them. otherwise don’t complain that nobody asks u people. they have come a very distant place called Gujarat)
Are sahab kuch hota jaata to hai hi nahin ,roz koi na koi aata rehta hai
(Nothing happens, daily some or the other person comes)
Nahin is baar hoga.do sao rupai ke hotel main ruke hain.
(This time it will happen as they are staying in hotel worth 200 Rs.)
The words of Rakesh Gairola our escort and guide, still reverberates against my empty top floor. Frankly we did not have much clue as to how our presence could be of direct help to the people we were talking to. But all the same it was a learning experience for us. This learning curve was on a sure shot decline as we finished our 27th village in 15 days taking lessons in trekking in the villages and plucking out leeches from the tattered chappels.
We were supposed to be having our Sundays off during our fieldwork but here even that impudence was not desired of us. But as they say fortune favours the brave and therefore before leaving that 200 Rupai waala hotel with stinking combined toilet and putting up with loitering visitors at the next-door one-room branch office of our host organisation we had something to cheer about.
The news was that our reporting officer was to come here for some personal errand and therefore we can also stay till he goes back to work (and off-course to receive our report of some meeting we were supposed to attend) at Rishikesh. This time we were accompanied not by Gairola but Chamola. Jagdamba Prasad Chamola to be precise incidentally the first name was same as our host organisation. (Jagdamba Samiti) so we rechristened this PG in physics as chamoljee). He was on the wrong side of 20s and of stocky built.
The agenda – 5 villages in 3 days. Progress above target. With nothing else to do at day break I got into chat with somebody while looking at the Bhilangana River overflowing with melting ice.
Yahaan koi ghumne ki jagah nahin hai kya??(Isn’t there any place to roam about here.)?
Hai na saheb (There is( Masar Taal)
Immediately I took out the map of Uttaranchal and gave a valiant effort at locating it. What I found as a poor substitute was Masap Tal a lake near Sahasra taal (which anybody of with any capability in adventure tourism used to brag about at Ghansali branch-office)
We decided to move to the next village but on our way my delaying tactics convinced my companions especially Chamola that I was in no mood to be on the learning curve. So we decided to have a go at Masar Tal. (Perfectly legitimate move, as it was anyway a Sunday.)
The fellow who had given the suggestion had warned us in good faith not to go there without an escort. Our attempts at getting one failed miserably at the last village (kot) we left behind.
The trek was supposed to be a climb of 8-10 km at a degree of 45 from horizontal vision. The standard time to be taken was 5-6 hours and hence there was a chance that we could get delayed in returning so our primary worry when we started out was to get back the same day. What we did not think was the normalised score of our walking speeds which was not even half of the local Herculean.
But with faith in our hearts we embarked in the direction pointed by a chaiwala hoping to meet some shepherd enroute’. We did get one but he was returning back. But like any bad Hindi movie he gave us a rough sketch of the route on the back of my railway ticket from indore to Haridwar (reimbursement was completed long ago). The sketch was replete with springs, stones and an idol of lord Ganesha for good measure.
One word about the climate, which could not have been better. Sun was in its fullest glory with only a glimpse of black clouds towards north.
The time was one of clock and we had 7 km to go. (Shortest possible distance).
By 3 o clock all my mistaken notions of my fitness and muscularity and the lack of it in my partner had evaporated into thin air. Chamola the stocky Garhwal was leading from the front.
One mark was the barren fields after two kms but it being rainy season it was difficult to tell which places were actually barren except Chamola’s and my friends’ shining skulls dripping with sweat.After trying out three roots and number of heuristic measures we proceeded on the wrong route only to return after half an hour to the correct one.
The climate had taken a u-turn (a very characteristic feature when u are 4000 metre above sea-level). Uncle sun was nowhere to be seen and there was ample fog to screen a filmy song.
The Ganesha idol was nowhere to be seen at 5 o clock when we reached a meadow. My heart leapt out of my eyes when I saw a shepherd coming but the same object sank to its deepest depth when he told us that we were only half way thru.
The fog had now descended to cover the trek completely and it was difficult to see beyond 7-8 metres. But thankfully the trek was well trodden by god-fearing simpletons. The Ganesha idol of some medieval time presented itself at 6 o clock. Thirst and fatigue had taken their toll on all of us but I being the one most challenged in terms of stamina displayed clear signs of agony and self-directed abuse. (After all it was I who suggested this stupid move).
By the time it was 6.30 we were dripping with fog-induced sweat. The only pouch of electral cherished from the fieldwork medicine kit was the last resort. Half a spoon full was hardly sufficient for my 6’2” frame. Million thanx to Prof Chowdary and Dr. Balchandani.
My partners were busier analysing the route to look at me. From this position returning back was an unthinkable step and it seemed to be a never-ending torture. Our feet were numbed with tiredness but the sheer lollipop of getting something to eat once we reach that place was pushing us forward. I was resorting to occasionally stoppages to pluck wild strawberries no bigger than groundnuts (but tasting like heaven.)
Finally when we reached the landmark (a waterfall) I again took the lead (or rather was given it so that I won’t vanish in the fog) .At 7.30 sharp my partner gave a loud shout.
I was too mellowed to rush but still stumbled somehow to where he was standing; the fog did not allow us to see beyond 3-4 feet away. He was dumb with happiness. He picked a stone and threw it down the ridge. Splash!!!! We were there!!!!!!!!
All three of us started shouting like kids hoping that some well-meaning shepherd would take us to the dharamshala (that’s what we were told existed there)
After some time a feeble voice beckoned us to walk round the lake. The bet with Chamola to reach Masar Taal first was still in place and I flung myself full force ahead of him.
A cottage was faintly visible and I collapsed like a marathon athlete (although a fraud one) in front of it. A man standing there took our wherewithal and told us something that went like a spear through our joy.
Yahaan to sab apna bandobast karke aate hain.tumhare paas kuch hai tent wagairah.
(Here everybody brings his own paraphrenelia.do u have tent etc???)
We had only two small bags with one change to boast of.
He suggested that we check out with some sadhu living in a small temple nearby. We had thought that the worst was over but fate wanted something else from us.
The brave garhwali Chamola came forward and told us to wait till he talks with some shepherds if they could give us shelter for the night. It was 8 o clocks and the wretched forest guard had given his torch to Chamola.
If this was not enough, now it had started raining. The lake was not fully visible except for the semblance of being near a waterbody. I talked with the sadhu who directed me towards a ramshackle shed (but agreed to give us shelter in his cottage.)
Presently Chamola came and asked me. I told him what transpired between the sadhu and me. The fool that he was he had not fully negotiated the stay part but only the food.
We went to the nearby cottage with hopes of getting shelter. Now it was pouring like cats n dogs and my windsheeter proved to be useless appendage once more.
That night I would have eaten 15-20 rotis at the least estimate and for the first time in my life I realised the true marginal utility of food. The old shepherd lived with two small kids and his wife who was anywhere near 60-65 in age. My gluttony only ended partially because I was feeling ashamed and completely because my headgear (a makeshift bandana) fell into the remnant of Sabji (vegetable) left behind. I later saw small insects freely roaming about and all this while I was thinking that they were some sort of spice in the food. Anyways now I was feeling a bit better.
Since the place where we ate was actually a cowshed so we decided to take some blanket and retreat to the temple. The retreat took us half an hour and I cursed everything under the hidden sun and pouring rain.
When we entered the ramshackle shed we found that it was filled up with cow dung in some systematic manner. Only option left was to enter the sadhu who appeared to be a suspicious character. We somehow mustered courage and gave a knock at the door.
He asked us to enter. He had a long mane and a muscular body, by no chance an old person that we thought him to be. He was happy to see new faces after an interval of six months (this place as we were told is only frequented during dusshera by the localites) he directed us to a corner of his cottage, which we found to be not very different from the cottage we just left behind. But to venture into rain was something, which was impossible to do.
With heavy hearts we settled for this place to spend our nite and rued the moment when we had left the shepherds cow shed. The roof was dripping like a sieve. We somehow managed to get a dry place and collapsed on the semi-dry leaves that were to be our mattresses.
Surprisingly none of us fell asleep, partly because of the sheer tiredness and partly because we were feeling like lord Shiva with a drip irrigation system on the top.
When I woke at 4 in the morning there were sounds of heated discussion going between Chamola and the sadhu. My neck was paining like anything as I found there was a pyramid shaped pebble just underneath.
This is what I heard.
Chamola: “baba how do u manage living here.”
Baba: I don’t need anything here.
Chamola: but food
Baba: I have not eaten for 3 months.
Chamola: but why. (Shocked)
Baba: people like u don’t know about meditation
Chamola: I also practise religion.
Baba: that is nothing but fraud.
Chamola: how can u say so…?
Etc.
The voice subsided after some time, as had the overnight rainfall. Chamola seemed to have gone outside.I woke up at 6 o clock again to find that baba was muttering something about true sadhna and Jap. (Meditation)I somehow gathered my tattered body and went outside.
The scene that presented itself before me brushed away all anxiety, tiredness, fear, remorse and a hundred negative passions from my mind.
Spread just outside was a lake of majestic beauty and which was surrounded by meadows spread over the horizon as far as eye could see.
On the southern side were the majestic mountains blue in their hue and which could have been a part of any picture postcard.
I took a full circle of the lake and shot as many snaps as were permissible with my meagre budget.i also realised why it was not on he tourist map.actually the lake was a result of a small dam built across the mouth of a basin.under this wall I managed to clean my soiled bandana!!!
The place
This place hewn in majestic glory has been secluded from the human eye from time immemorial not because people don’t know about it but because of the sheer amount of effort required to reach here and the subsequent vagaries and unpredicatability of the place. As far as I could see it was just a green carpet strewn with a riot of colors, courtesy flowers of different genera. Just adjacent to the main lake were two smaller lakes serving as buffers for the main one. When I was taking a round tour just for a trifle moment uncle sun did me a great favor and there stood before me three peaks each of a different color.(green,blue and white)the green one seemed to be covered with some sort of moss,the blue one was completely rocky and the third one had still some snow on it.before I could gather my breath and camera the scene was wrenched away by merciless clouds.
The hermit told me that this place was in full sun just a day ago and last year was covered knee deep in snow. The most wonderful thing that he told me was that this place is the old trek route through which people used to go to kedarnath, via sahasratal. This sahasratal is totally devoid of any vegetation and is considered to be the only place where u get the true shilajeet (a so called panacea for all ailments.) on asking he told me that a trek of two more days will take us to that place from where kedarnath was just a stone’s throw accroding to him.i soliloquised that will I be able to lift even my eyelids once I am there what to talk of stones etc??
The sadhu took assurances from me that I will send him his snaps(which I did eventually).to my surprise when I asked him how on earth is he going to get them, he said that the shepherd come here in batches and then remain here till autumn.so he hopes to get them the same way he got from an English trekker who had come from mussorie.
Later on when I told Mr. LP Semwal(our reporting officer) about my adventure he recalled his trek to sahasratal and then recalled a night when on a similar fateful nite he and 5 of his mates were stranded under snowfall and had to lie in sheep-shed 4 feet tall (to escape the winds).
He further on added that the spirit of eco-tourism can only be upheld by people like those shepherd who offer selfless help in such times and charge only a smile for it.
I tought that just as badrinath is called uttaranchals biggest factory,these treasures should be called the biggest inventory.with this my resolve of repeated visits every year to this place got firm.
We started back at about 11 o clock for the return journey. The overnight rain had rendered all the dormant springs vibrancy and many were flowing like small rivulets.
The return journey was uneventful except for the fall I had while running down the meadow. I finally came to a halt after sliding over 12-13 feet and having a nice sensation on the lower and hind part of my body.
The scratch that I carried from here subsequently developed into a swollen ankle which made me subject of ample unwanted sympathy for the rest of my OTS and rendered me incapable of further such adventures.On our return to Rishikesh I read a headline, which said that 3 houses had collapsed on that fateful night in Dehradun city because of torrential rain.
To think of searching shelter near Masar Taal was not a bad idea after all.!!!!!!!!!!!11
Sunday, January 01, 2006
June 2005
This month began with the sweltering heat of chattisgarh where i faced temperature of 45 plus. To add insult to injury was the torture of eating rice and only rice continously for three days ( for this is what was the staple diet for the revolutionares who walked 400 km in 10 days in the burning atmosphere.(pun intended)the travel was 1300 km to and fro in train and bus.After that i decided to chill off literally so moved towards okhimath and kedarnath.The misadventure started form okhimath when i decided to trek kedarnath in a single day. the trek is 14 km from gaurikund but being already late i decided to have a go at gandhi sarovar further 4 km.by the time i returned with a detour of 4 km passing through the receding mandakini moaraine it was already 8 pm and 32 km trek in that single day non-stop. i was close to fainting at the altitude of 6000 m above sea level (20000 feet).luckily i stumbled upon a team from the ministry of science and technology doing research on glaciers. the man i slept with at night told me real stories of his visits to antarctica and mount everest.with dreams of doing the same some day i came back the followin morning and by the way having a bow at lord kedarnath as well.This journey lasted 8 days,3000 km in the bus and 44 km trek in 24 hours.for hte last one week am looking after plantations in the so called second kashmir (called jhadol near udaipur in the local lingo).shall send u the pics vvery soon.hope this description takes care of the complaints regarding my nameless multimedia messages.do let me know if u want further details of my misadventures.by the way the extra four km was used to visit the foothills of the kedarparvat which is 6500 m above sea level. But sadly since i only had chappals to take care of my feet i had to abandon mountaineering ambitions:)
This month began with the sweltering heat of chattisgarh where i faced temperature of 45 plus. To add insult to injury was the torture of eating rice and only rice continously for three days ( for this is what was the staple diet for the revolutionares who walked 400 km in 10 days in the burning atmosphere.(pun intended)the travel was 1300 km to and fro in train and bus.After that i decided to chill off literally so moved towards okhimath and kedarnath.The misadventure started form okhimath when i decided to trek kedarnath in a single day. the trek is 14 km from gaurikund but being already late i decided to have a go at gandhi sarovar further 4 km.by the time i returned with a detour of 4 km passing through the receding mandakini moaraine it was already 8 pm and 32 km trek in that single day non-stop. i was close to fainting at the altitude of 6000 m above sea level (20000 feet).luckily i stumbled upon a team from the ministry of science and technology doing research on glaciers. the man i slept with at night told me real stories of his visits to antarctica and mount everest.with dreams of doing the same some day i came back the followin morning and by the way having a bow at lord kedarnath as well.This journey lasted 8 days,3000 km in the bus and 44 km trek in 24 hours.for hte last one week am looking after plantations in the so called second kashmir (called jhadol near udaipur in the local lingo).shall send u the pics vvery soon.hope this description takes care of the complaints regarding my nameless multimedia messages.do let me know if u want further details of my misadventures.by the way the extra four km was used to visit the foothills of the kedarparvat which is 6500 m above sea level. But sadly since i only had chappals to take care of my feet i had to abandon mountaineering ambitions:)
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