The Agaris of North-West Maharashtra: An Ethnographic Study

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The Agaris of North-West Maharashtra: An Ethnographic Study Submitted in the partial fulfillment of the requirements For the degree of

Doctor of Philosophy

By

Sai Thakur (Roll No. 01408303)

Supervisor: Prof. Rowena Robinson

Department of Humanities and Social Sciences IIT Bombay, Powai, Mumbai - 400 076 September 2007

Approval Sheet

Dissertation entitled ‘The Agaris of North-West Maharashtra: An Ethnographic Study’ by Ms. Sai Thakur is approved for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy.

Examiners

Supervisor

Chairman

Date:

Place:

INDIAN INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY, BOMBAY, INDIA CERTIFICATE OF COURSE WORK This is to certify that Ms. Sai Thakur was admitted to the candidacy of the Ph.D. degree on 18th July 2002, after successfully completing all the courses required for the Ph.D. programme. The details of the course work are given below:

Serial No. Course No. Course name

Credits

1

HS 800

Research Methods in Social Sciences

6.0

2

HS 824

Cultural Studies

6.0

3

HSS802

Ph.D. Seminar

4.0

4

HS 704

Engendering Development: Theory and Practice

6.0

5

HS 804

Advanced Theory of Society

6.0

6

HSS801

Ph.D. Seminar

4.0

7

SS 801

Self Study

6.0

Total Credits

38

I.I.T. Bombay

Dated:

Dy. Registrar (Academic)

Abstract The present work is an ethnographic study of the Agaris, a Shudra caste-community in Maharashtra, a state in western India. They are a salt-making and peasant caste from coastal Maharashtra. The larger aim of the study is to trace the historical trajectory which would unfold the emergence of the Agaris as a caste and delineate the process of their marginalization. The specific objective is to trace the particular pattern of this process in a village and its surrounding region. The thesis hinges upon three concepts: caste, peasant and history. The theoretical framework of the thesis understands caste as a system of exploitation and the Agaris are a part of this system. History is an important concept as it is understood as the interplay between structure and agency. Insights from peasant studies are also significant because they add to the understanding of the agency of the caste community. The fieldwork for this study was mainly ethnographic in nature and involved methods of participant observation, informal interviewing and a sample survey. This primary data was also supplemented by secondary material. The study shows that ecology, political dynamics and the caste society together constitute an ever-evolving context for the ethnography of the community of the Agaris. The Agari peasants’ control over their land has remained fragile for the last one hundred years. The Agari peasantry, however, has been militant and has mobilized on several occasions against the landlords or the state to resist economic exploitation and alienation of land. However, the peasantry is differentiated and the agency of the Agari peasants is more nuanced than it may appear to be. The processes of mobilization are to be viewed in relation with the Agari caste identity which was and is centered around labour and certain distinct non-Brahman elements. Both men and women are valued for their labouring capacities and this is also reflected in the kinship and family organization of the community and the patterns of distribution of resources. Over the years, due to larger socio-economic changes taking place in the region, the patterns of social life and processes of mobilization among the community are also shifting. Keywords: caste, ethnography, peasant, history

Table of Contents Table of contents……………………………………………………………………….…..…..i-iii List of tables, maps and figures……………………………………………………………....v-vi

Chapter One..................................................................................................................................... Introduction .............................................................................................................................. 1-16 1.1 The Agaris ............................................................................................................................... 1.2 The Agari worldview............................................................................................................... 1.3 Caste, ethnography and history ............................................................................................... 1.4 Ethnographic fieldwork and history ........................................................................................ 1.5 Chapter plan of the thesis ........................................................................................................

Chapter Two .................................................................................................................................... Anthropology and history of caste: some theoretical concerns.......................................... 17-54 2.1 Introduction ............................................................................................................................. 2.2 Caste debates ........................................................................................................................... 2.3 History and the anthropology of caste..................................................................................... 2.4 ‘Peasant’ .................................................................................................................................. 2.5 Conclusion ...............................................................................................................................

Chapter Three.................................................................................................................................. Fieldwork................................................................................................................................. 55-80 3.1 Introduction ............................................................................................................................. 3.2 Some theoretical issues............................................................................................................ 3.3 Fieldwork................................................................................................................................. 3.4 Selection of the fieldwork site and entry ................................................................................. 3.5 Establishing rapport................................................................................................................. 3.6 Documentation of ethnographic data....................................................................................... 3.7 Conclusion ...............................................................................................................................

ii

Chapter Four.................................................................................................................................... The region: ecology and society ...........................................................................................81-116 4.1 Introduction.............................................................................................................................. 4.2 Konkan: an overview ............................................................................................................... 4.3 Reclaiming land from salt marshes.......................................................................................... 4.4 The agrarian society and class and caste structure of nineteenth and twentieth century Maharashtra with special reference to the Konkan........................................................................ 4.5 Conclusion ...............................................................................................................................

Chapter Five ..................................................................................................................................... The politics of land..............................................................................................................117-143 5.1 Introduction.............................................................................................................................. 5.2 Politics of land: the peasant struggle against tenancy (1920 – 1948) ...................................... 5.3 The politics of land: land reforms (1950 – 1981) .................................................................... 5.4 The politics of land: the peasant struggle against land acquisition (1966–1984) .................... 5.5 The politics of land: land as commodity (1985 – 2005) .......................................................... 5.6 Conclusion ...............................................................................................................................

Chapter Six ....................................................................................................................................... The politics of class and kinship ........................................................................................145-185 6.1 Introduction: ‘Class’, ‘Status’ and ‘Power’ ............................................................................. 6.2 The local caste and class structure ........................................................................................... 6.3 Class, kinship and politics........................................................................................................ 6.4 Conclusion ...............................................................................................................................

Chapter Seven .................................................................................................................................. Land, labour and gender....................................................................................................187-233 7.1 Introduction.............................................................................................................................. 7.2 Labour and gender: some theoretical concerns........................................................................ 7.3 Making both ends meet............................................................................................................ 7.4 Land: the history of its making in and around Chirner............................................................ 7.5 Chirner and its land..................................................................................................................

iii

7.6 Labour, gender and caste in Chirner........................................................................................ 7.7 Conclusion ...............................................................................................................................

Chapter Eight................................................................................................................................... Families, marriage relations and the gendered sharing of resources ............................ 235-265 8.1 Introduction ............................................................................................................................. 8.2 Family, lineage, neighbourhood and village: the markers of identities................................... 8.3 Bride-givers and bride-takers: greater symmetry than asymmetry ......................................... 8.4 Sasar (conjugal home)/maher (natal home): the duality of a woman’s identity ..................... 8.5 Conclusion ...............................................................................................................................

Chapter Nine .................................................................................................................................... Conclusions.......................................................................................................................... 267-278

Appendices .......................................................................................................................... 279-285 References............................................................................................................................ 287-305 Acknowledgements ............................................................................................................. 307-308

iv

List of Tables, Maps and Figures

Tables 4.1 Distribution of Kharland across the four Konkan districts……………………………...86 4.2 Statistical information about existing khoti villages, the areas covered by them, the assessment and jama payable…..………………………………………………….……92 4.3 Proportion of households having savkari land (2005)…………………………….….…94 4.4 Levels of literacy among various castes in Maharashtra, 1911, 1921 and 1931………..98 4.5 Agricultural occupations of selected Castes, Bombay Province, 1911……..………....102 5.1 The comparative strength of the Congress and the SKP and the distribution of Maharashtra Legislative Assembly seats between various political parties in Raigad (1951 – 2004).………………………………………………………………………………..128 5.2 Distribution of land in Raigad district (1952-53)…………...…………………………129 5.3 Distribution of land in Raigad district (1980-81)…………...…………………………129 5.4 Tenancy as percentage of cultivated area………………...……………………………130 7.1 Distribution of land in hectares in Chirner and other villages………...……………….206 7.2 The phases of moon, associated tidal levels and the Agari and Marathi terms for the same…………………………………………………………...……………..………...213

Maps 3.1 The state of Maharashtra and its districts…………...…………………………...………..63 3.2 Uran and other talukas in Raigad district……..…………………….…………………….64 3.3 Chirner and other villages in Uran taluka……………………………..………………….66 4.1 The spread of alluvium in Panvel, Uran, Pen, Alibag, Murud, and Roha talukas of Raigad district…………………………………………………………………………...…………….88 4.2 The spread of laterite in northern Ratnagiri district……………...……………………….89 7.1 Map showing the ten villages and their geography …………….……………….……....203 7.2: Chirner and the spread of its cultivable land…………………..………………..….…..207

v

Figures 4.1 Percentage of households having savkari land, 2005…………………………..…….…..95 4.2 A diagrammatic representation of the fluid boundaries among cultivating, fishing and horticulturist castes of the Konkan………………………..………….………..…..……108 5.1 Landholding per household in acres, 2005………………………………..….……..…..130 5.2 Proportion of households with less than five acres and more than five acres of land, 2005...................................................................................................................................131 6.1 The Chirlekar family, Chincha pada, Chirner…..…………………………….....………166 6.2 The Kharpatil family, Madhil pada, Chirner…...……………..…………………..…….168 6.3 The Patil family, Mool pada, Chirner….…………………...……..………………..…...169 6.4 The Thakur family, Khopata………………………………………...………….……….170 6.5 Narayan Nagu Patil’s family, Alibag...…………………………………...………….….171 6.6 Dinakar Balu Patil, Tukaram Vajekar and their connection with SKP………………….172 6.7 The Thakur family from Ranjan pada, Chirner…………………………………..….…..178 7.1 Estimated distribution of annual income in Chirner in 1975…………………..……......195 7.2 Distribution of annual income in Chirner in 2005……………………………..…..…....195

Chapter One Introduction In recent years, a new critical sense is inflecting anthropological and sociological scholarship. This sense is reflected in the subjects chosen for study, in fieldwork practices and in the modes of writing and representation. This change in the scholarship is also reflected in the field of caste studies. For instance, the dichotomy between caste and tribe is being questioned (Unnithan-Kumar 2001), history is becoming integral to the studies of caste (Inden 1976; Dirks 1987; Dube 1998), and the contradictions between the theory of caste and practice of caste are being examined (Raheja 1988; Quigley 1999). The study of caste, and for that matter any social reality, is increasingly becoming complex, and is being subjected to critical thinking. As a part of this change in the literature, one might have also expected a critical examination of the ‘systemic exploitation’ which is an integral part of the caste hierarchy. However, that critique has emerged only recently. 1 Further, the new developments have yet to make a significant impact on the general field of sociology and anthropology. A radical critique of the systemic exploitation implicated in the caste hierarchy has, on the other hand, been a part of the indigenous scholarship which emerged from the social and political

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movements of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. 2 Only recently, have the works and actions of these thinkers and political figures received some attention in the social sciences. The newly emerging critical thinking in the social sciences owes much to the feminist and Dalit scholarship, and rightfully so, as women and Dalits have consistently been at the receiving end in Indian society. Berreman ([1971] 2005), Mencher (1974) and Deliége (1992) have highlighted the importance of such a ‘view from below.’ Studies dealing with the untouchable communities and their experiences are on an increase. Documentations of the lives and experiences of Shudra communities, however, are, comparatively speaking, much fewer in number. 3 The Shudra communities do not consistently face flagrant repression and violence (physical and social), of the kind that comes the way of untouchable communities. They are, nonetheless, exploited and deprived not just economically, but also socially.

1.1 The Agaris It is within this academic context that this work on the Agaris, a Shudra caste community, can be located and a brief description of the community’s demographic profile should not be out of place over here. 4 The Agaris reside mainly in six districts of Maharashtra –Thane, Raigad, Ratnagiri, Pune and Nashik and Mumbai city. With the exception of Nashik and Pune, which are inland districts, the remaining four are coastal districts. The traditional occupation of this caste-community, from which it derives its caste name, is salt-making. The Marathi word for saltpan is agar: hence the caste name Agari. But salt-making is not the Agaris’ main source of livelihood. A majority of the community members are also cultivators. Salt-making is a seasonal activity carried out during the summer months. The proportion of the community members earning their livelihood through salt-making has also declined over the years. In 1931, the population of the community was 2.65 lakhs. 5 At that time, Raigad, the erstwhile Kolaba district, ranked first in terms of the total number of Agaris as well as in terms of the proportion of Agaris to the total population. Even today, the presence of the community in Ratnagiri, Nashik and Pune districts is nominal. The bulk of the Agari population resides in Thane, Raigad and Mumbai. In Mumbai, which is one of the largest metropolitan cities in the world and home to more than one crore people, Agaris today are in a minority. 6 Let us take a look at some general socio-economic indicators to understand the position of the community in relation to the rest of the population over time. In the year 1931, the proportion of literates among the Agaris was a little above five percent. This was not

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comparable to the upper castes, especially the Brahmans who had over fifty percent of their population enumerated as literates. The situation of general illiteracy was more or less the same for many non-Brahman castes. 7 Even the figures for landownership show that among the Agaris in 1931, the rent receivers were less than three percent of the total population compared to the upper castes among whom, more than fifty percent were enumerated as rent receivers. 8 The remaining Agaris were either cultivators, tenants, landless labourers or a combination of these three categories. Since the Indian Census, in the post-Independence period, does not collect caste-wise data for populations other than Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes, I have to rely on my fieldwork data for a contemporary picture of the Agaris. In the village Chirner where the fieldwork for this study was conducted, according to the sample survey conducted in 2005, ninety-one percent of the households held less than five acres of land. 9 The annual income of nearly fifty percent of the population was below 10,000 rupees. 10 This was the case in a village such as Chirner which is considered to be relatively better-off than many other villages. This is just a snap-shot of the general socio-economic deprivation of the community. An unintended but inevitable consequence of such deprivation was visible in Bombay city in the early twentieth century, which is described in the excerpt quoted below from an unpublished manuscript on the ‘History of Agari Community’ by Bhaskar Patil, a social activist of the community (son of Anandrao Patil, 11 who is referred to in this excerpt). The manuscript was written between 1955 and 1963. Khalcha pada and varcha pada were two parts of Agri Pada 12 and many Agaris, Sitaram Kumbhars and Dandekar Kolis were staying there. In 1907, Improvement Trust Scheme 13 brought out a ‘proclamation’ to acquire land and houses in these villages. The villagers had appealed to the government that only land required for widening the road should be acquired and not the entire villages. Temples should be exempted from the scheme. After his [Anandrao Patil’s] death in October 1914, Improvement [Trust] acquired all the land and estate within two to three years and demolished all the structures and sold all the land to Khatao [textile] Mill and Bakavali [textile] Mill. The villages were dispersed…between 1904 and 1917 this (Improvement Trust Act) was implemented forcefully. The subjects of King Bimba - 1. Pathare Kshatriya 2. Suryavanshi and Somvanshi Pathare Kshatriya 4. Kshatriya Agari-Agale 5. Sheshavanshi Bhandari 6. Yadavvanshi Gavali (Dhobi Talav) 7. Shukla Yajurvediya Palashe Brahman had their lands, houses, bungalows, mansions, paddy fields, vegetable and flower gardens. Their traditional occupations and estates were bought for meager prices under such acts as “Survey Back Act” “Betterment Act” and “Land Acquisition Act” for the ‘improvement of city’. Since then Agari, Bhandari, Kasar etc. castes became penniless and jobless and were deprived of their old habitat and the happy way of life and they were included in the “Backward Classes”. What a misfortune!

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Chapter One

This is a telling example and stands out for being a first-hand account of such processes of dislocation at work as early as the early twentieth century. It bears testimony to the pattern of such processes occurring elsewhere. For, in 2005, nearly one hundred years after the Agaris of Mumbai lost their lands in a drive called by the British for the improvement of the city, a similar process is underway in Chirner and its neighbouring villages, where I did my fieldwork for the present study. Chirner is a large village in the eastern part of Uran taluka, in the Raigad district of Maharashtra. Chirner and the neigbouring twenty-eight villages are to become a part of the proposed Mahamumbai (Greater-Mumbai) Special Economic Zone (SEZ) within the next few years; this will inevitably alter the geography and society of the region thoroughly. This is one of the most controversial of three hundred or so SEZs that are being sanctioned in various parts of India. The land acquisition process had already started in 2005, and it has gained momentum since then. There is another link between the above-mentioned happenings in Mumbai and the present work. A significant proportion of land on which the Agaris of Mumbai worked, either as cultivators or as salt-makers, was the land reclaimed from the sea. This is also true for Chirner and its neighbouring villages. Reclamation of land and its maintenance thereafter is a labour-intensive job, which requires the knowledge and skills to wall up, maintain and desalinate the salt-marshes, which are spread on the banks of creeks. These marshy swamps are abundant in this region and they are inundated by tidal waters twice a day. Even normal movement in these marshes is extremely difficult. Standard farming equipment such as ploughs operated by bullocks and buffaloes do not work in this excessively sticky and deeply muddy soil. The swamps cannot be reclaimed on a small scale. The knowledge about the flows through estuaries and creeks, and about the behaviour of these flows during the highest tides is required for their reclamation. They also require the construction of bunds and sluice gates to control the flow of water, by arresting the inflow of sea water during high tide and allowing the discharge of inland waters during low tide. If we look at the present labour practices of the Kharland (the official term for the reclaimed land) management in Chirner and around, we can see that the practices typical of this type of cultivation of sharing the agricultural labour through handa, parkel and majat (labour-exchange groups), collective management of Kharland through jol (larger co-operative labour groups) and the office of kharpatil 14 - are still in place although over the years the patterns have been shifting.

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The ecology, the salt marshes and the land reclamation are in fact an important point of entry not only into the history of Chirner or Mumbai, but also into the larger history of land reclamation in Raigad (erstwhile Kolaba). The interconnections enable us to understand the historical emergence of the Agari community and of a regionally specific system of social stratification. The earliest references to reclamation and cultivation of these lands take us to the fourteenth century (Chapter Four). It appears that Mumbai, Thane and Raigad districts are areas where land reclamation has been going on, in phases, over a period of nearly six centuries. Since land reclamation also required capital investment and effective land management, it depended upon the political rule of those times and gave rise to a stratified society in which the investors, who were generally from the upper castes, came to play an important role. Thus, although the labour and skills of the Agari peasants were central to the ecological peculiarity of this region, the control of land was not exclusively in their hands. The entry of the highest castes of Brahmans, in this region for various reasons was delayed, and the consolidation of their dominance was rather slow, especially in Uran. Due to this, the caste society also displayed a distinct pattern. Various lower castes that are even today a part of the region appear to have gradually emerged, guided partly by occupational differentiation. The boundaries, therefore between these castes remained porous. The Agari-Karadi-Koli caste cluster is an interesting case in this regard. Although the hierarchy amongst various castes was not completely absent, it must have consolidated with the entry of the Brahmans. During British rule with revenue to be paid in cash, and the presence of the ryotwari system, land became alienable. It is during this period that several Agari kulas (tenant families) were brought to Chirner from other parts of the district (Pen, Alibag, Panvel) in the middle of the nineteenth century, by the landlords who invested money in land reclamation. In other villages this was happening from earlier period. In the early part of the twentieth century, thus, the Agari peasants’ discontent was against the excesses of the landlords (alternatively called savkars 15 , pandharpeshe, khots) and they expressed the sentiment that, as tillers, the first claim on the land was theirs. They went on strike in Vashi in Pen taluka (1922-1925), in Chari in Alibag taluka (1932-1937), and in Bhendkhal in Uran taluka (1939-1943). In Chirner, the peasant discontent was expressed in a rather different way, through a phenomenon that Hobsbawm (1959) called ‘social banditry’.

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Chapter One

Here, one Baraku Chirlekar formed a gang of peasants who fought against the oppressive landlords, but were subsequently declared as ‘outlaws’ by the British government. During these times franchise was limited to an educated and propertied class, under the Government of India Act, 1935. 16 After Independence in 1947, the gates of formal politics were opened up for everybody. Thus, since 1948, a new political outfit, the Shetkari Kamgar Paksha (the Peasants and Workers Party, SKP) spread through a grassroots network of Agaris. Land reforms were effectively implemented, one can argue, because of the SKP’s vibrant presence. The struggle for land, however, ceased only temporarily. Between 1966 and 1984 land was acquired (approximately 19000 hactares) from ninety-five villages (from parts of Uran and Panvel talukas (Raigad) and Belapur talukas (Thane)) for the New Bombay city. This new city was supposed to take the burden off the overcrowded Bombay city. Chirner was not directly affected, but it participated in the resistance that the peasants put up, first against the land acquisitions, and then for proper compensation for the land. On the 17th and the 18th of January 1984, five Agari peasants lost their lives during one of the agitations. It is important to give due consideration to the understanding of the ways a community constructs its collective life through its constant engagement with other structures and agents in the society. James Scott (1976) aptly underscores the value of understanding the agency of the peasants in Moral economy of the peasants. The Agaris are no exception. And Wolf ([1969] 1999: xix) has rightly pointed out that an anthropologist who has worked in the field is well aware of the differences in any society and brings important insights into the study of the peasantry, because such differences ‘have an important bearing on the genesis and course of the [peasant’s] revolutionary movement.’ The consolidated attempts of the Agari peasants to resist various claims on their land give a picture of a homogeneous peasantry. However, the ethnography reveals that the peasantry was internally differentiated not only during the preIndependence period but also afterwards. Earlier, the differentiations ran along the lines of land, wealth, status, kinship and marriage alliances. In the post-Independence periods party politics and larger economic interests have been added to these factors. On the other hand, in our case, the ethnography also brings out the caste dimensions of the Agari peasantry, which further complicate the intra-community dynamics. On the one hand, it is important to see how the Agari elite try to maintain a distance through various strategies including sanskritization and marriages at a distance. But, on the other hand, we also need to see that they could not dissociate themselves from the land or the practices of labour involved in its cultivation. They

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also participated in the Agari way of life and shared in its ethos, including language, attire and cuisine, which was effectively non-Brahman. Marginalization is ‘a process by which a group or an individual is denied access to important positions and symbols of economic, religious and political power within any society’ (Marshall 1998: 385). This process accelerates when the society of which the social group(s) is (are) a part shows rapid economic growth. The marginalization of the Agari community has been the starting point and the context for the present study. In the excerpt quoted at the beginning of this chapter the author has attributed the ‘backwardness’ of the Agari community to the loss of land and means of livelihood at the hands of the British. However, it would be erroneous to hold colonial rule solely responsible for the community’s marginalization and to identify its backwardness a result of it. This process of marginalization has deeper roots and a longer history, although colonization definitely accentuated this process. The backwardness can be traced to the hegemonic order of the caste system which denied education and other means of acquiring social and economic capital to the non-‘twiceborn’ castes. The demand of a caste-community, to be identified as ‘backward’ has become a political issue and may appear to many to be of recent origin and a mere political game. However, with the Agaris, the demand has a history which dates back to the preIndependence period. The roots of this demand lay not only in colonial policies but also in the subjective experiences of denial undergone by the community. The demand also had an objective, material base to it. This becomes clear if we use the brief historical account given above as a backdrop of the developments that I discuss now. Together they make more sense and tell us much about the complex processes of a community’s consciousness and modes of constructing identity. The socio-economic backwardness of the community caused great concern among a handful of educated Agaris. The Agari-Agale Shikshan Fund (later renamed as Agari Shikshan Sanstha - the Agari Educational Trust), an organization dedicated to promote education amongst the Agaris of all districts, was established by the efforts of a few educated Agari youths in 1934 (just around the time when the peasant mobilizations in the Raigad districts were at their peak) in Mumbai. The need to promote education in the community was perceived by its members and was regularly expressed in the biannual reports that the organization published. The first report of 1937 expresses this need in the following manner -

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It is quite obvious that other communities have raised large funds, progressed in the field of education at a very fast pace and have thus gained status. There should not be any disagreement about the fact that our community has remained extremely backward. Today, because education has become highly expensive, in spite of the willingness of the poor masses they are unable to avail for it…if there is any way of overcoming these hindrances it is through raising funds like other communities to help the poor and deserving students (Agari Shikshan Sanstha 1997).

In the 1940-41 report the Sanstha explains the backwardness of the community in the following manner Our caste is primarily based in Kolaba, and Thane districts and the Mumbai city. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the natural formation of these districts is such that nothing other than rice and salt can be produced. Since paddy fields and saltpans are owned by savkars our community has become kul (tenants) to the savkar (landlords) and has become very impoverished and depressed. Our caste brethren who toil day in and day out in fields and saltpans are progressively becoming a miserable lot. When our peasant brothers are not able to even feed themselves sufficiently, raising children properly and providing them education is a near impossibility. Thus our community has remained very poor and backward.

The bi-annual report of the organization for the year 1941-42 says – In spite of the extreme backwardness of our caste it has been included by the government in the intermediate class. As a consequence the educated youth is being deprived in terms of jobs and students in terms of scholarships. The economic condition of the community has deteriorated to a considerable extent. So that the government should include our Agari (Agale) 17 caste among the backward castes and should provide it with appropriate facilities, the present working committee has collected district-wise population of men and women, literates and illiterates and is pursuing the matter in this direction (Agari Shikshan Sanstha 1997).

We can see that the consciousness of being a backward caste was derived from the material conditions that many of these leaders had closely witnessed and experienced. An Agari caste organization - Akhil Agari Samaj Parishad (AASP) (All Agari Caste Society) was formed on the 15th of March 1959 to mobilize the community and to put pressure on the state government to make available for them the privileges provided to the ‘Backward Classes’ 18 (the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes). They cited the reference of the Kalelkar commission (the first Backward Classes Commission of Independent India) report as a proof of their backwardness.

19

The AASP went about collecting information about the

community, filing memoranda and taking delegations to prove their backwardness. In 1967, the state government included the Agari among the Other Backward Classes (the OBCs), a

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category which was already in use at that time at the state level. However, the privileges such as free education which were available under earlier provisions were scrapped and reservations in employment were reduced. In 1971, several other backward communities joined hands with the Agari community to form the Maharashtra Backward Classes Federation (MBFC). The main purpose was to put pressure on the state government for reservations and free education. In 1978, the second Backward Classes Commission was appointed (popularly known as the Mandal Commission after the chairman Bindeshwari Prasad Mandal) by the central government to identify castes which were socially and educationally backward. These were castes which were not listed among the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes. The Commission was also to suggest measures to eradicate their disabilities. When the Commission visited Maharashtra, the AASP and MBFC took a delegation to the Commission and submitted a memorandum, and also filled up the questionnaire furnished by the Commission (AASP 1981). The Commission submitted its report on 31st December 1980 (Yadav 2002: 4496). Thus a large section of the community sees itself as backward and stresses its nonBrahmanical origin and ethos. Enthoven’s (1975a: 10) description of the community, recorded in 1911, claimed that one of the myths of origin of the Agari community traced their origins to the musicians of Ravan, the demon king from Ramayana. 20 This fits into the general pattern of many Shudra castes who trace their ancestral roots through such non-Brahman deities. In the present generation of Agaris there is an awareness of this myth of origin. Many have become aware of it from the translations of Enthoven’s account published in the caste magazines and various popular books on Agari history. However, there are educated Agaris of the present generation who prefer to claim a Hindu-Kshatriya identity and vociferously decline any allegiance with the Shudra varna. These claims are made by tracing antecedents through the king Bimba, who is believed to have came to the Konkan from Mungi Paithan (a place situated in present-day Aurangabad district of Maharashtra) or through the Rajputs of Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh. 21

1.2 The Agari worldview It is important to argue here that the world-view of the community, exemplified through the structure of community life, is the result of the interplay between the material and social conditions of life and the agency of the people. Given the ecological setting of the region where the Agaris have been living as peasant or salt-makers for centuries, labour has become

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Chapter One

central to the Agari peasant identity. Therefore, traditionally, doing physical labour is, unlike as in the Brahmanical ethos, not looked down upon. Rather, it is enjoyed and cherished. This comes out forcefully not only through the labour practices but also through the community’s repertoire of folksongs. One illustrative example would be the Agari marriage rituals. The marriage rituals and songs sung by the Agari female priest (dhavalarin) eulogizes work. The Agari rituals of marriage involve husking, washing, drying and grinding the rice required for the marriage. This rice flour is then kneaded, and made into special cakes which are the ritual offering for the presiding deity of the marriage. All these activities are a part of the marriage rituals. The songs, also mention with respect and appreciation the labour that goes into producing various objects required during the marriage ritual, such as turmeric tubers, pots and grinding stone. Thus, the Agari life-style centered around labour, the peasant identity constructed through the political practices of the community over time (as narrated above), and a configuration of gender relations which values the contribution of women (and men) in the productive labour, together constitute a cultural complex. This complex gives a distinct flavour not only to the Agari community, but also overlaps in terms of its details with several other non-Brahman communities of the region. It thus tells us, in part the story of the historical emergence of the caste society in the region. Chakravarti (1993) has argued that gender inequality is integral to the operationalization of a caste hierarchy. This is so because the claims of the purity of the high castes hinge upon the purity of their women. What are the implications for a non-Brahman community like that of the Agaris in terms of ideas of gender? This is crucial to the understanding of the worldview of the community. The ideas about gender are reflected in the equal participation of women in the production activities and in the kinship and family organization and marriage relations of the community. Although the lineages and families are patrilocal and patrilineal and the distinction between sasar (conjugal family) and maher (natal family) remains clear, there continues to be a relative equality of status between bride-givers and bride-takers, unlike the case of the higher castes among whom the bride-givers are considered inferior. Marriages within the village, and among close kin, added to this symmetry. Earlier there was a practice of dej (bride-price) which has been given up, but the custom of dowry was absent for a long time. The bride’s family considered it insulting to agree to a dowry demand, as that would be akin to accepting the inferiority of the bride. With changed socio-economic conditions, however, demands for dowry are on the increase. There was never a ban on the remarriage of a woman although subsequent unions did not enjoy the

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status of a primary marriage. Although property was never equally shared with the daughter(s) or sister(s), in practice very often women did successfully lay a claim to the resources of their parental families.

1.3 Caste, ethnography and history The methodology of this enquiry was ethnographic. Nevertheless, history is crucial to its theoretical framework and analysis. Why does ‘history’ remain central to such an inquiry that is grounded very much in the present? What does it signify to integrate history in the study of a contemporary society? And how does one integrate ‘history’ into the ethnographic enquiry? The history of the marginalized in any society has remained obscure as they have lacked the power and means to write their own history. Thompson (1963: 12) calls this obscurity, the ‘enormous condescension of posterity’ and Gramsci (1996: 52-55) tells us that the subaltern history is ‘necessarily fragmented and episodic’. An ethnographic approach allows us to reach the past through the lives of people. Secondly, since marginalization is a process, history is central to its investigation. But this does not mean that one offers a mere chronological account of the process. A more sensitive approach would make history organic to this inquiry (Connell 1987: 44). If a ‘process’ is an interplay between structure and agency, then an understanding of the debates of subjective versus objective and structure versus human agency is central to such an ethnography. The concept of ‘social history’ which sought to incorporate society and social change in historical analysis and the ‘subaltern studies’, which sought to retrieve the agency of the subaltern classes, offer us useful insights. However, by the very nature of the discipline of history, their approach concentrates on the past. In anthropology the practitioner is rooted in the present. The approach to the understanding of the past is through the eyes of the present. The reliance is more on primary data. Therefore, one has to chart out an approach which is distinct and suited to the respective subject matter. It is important to understand how structures are constituted and how they constitute the actions of the actors. And it is also important to understand how the actors and their actions constitute the structures. In this respect, Bourdieu (1997) draws our attention to the minutiae of the ‘practice’ of the actors. But, as we shall see in Chapter Two, he hardly acknowledges the transformative powers of an actor. Comaroff (1985: 4) has drawn our attention to this aspect when she talks about ‘transformative powers of the human actors’. Connell (1987: 44) has argued that structures are to be seen as ‘constituted’ by the actors/agents rather than as ‘reproduced’.

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1.4 Ethnographic fieldwork and history The ethnographic fieldwork for this study was conducted in Chirner village which lies in the north-western part of Raigad district. Chirner is a large village with an approximate population of 5000. The fieldwork, which involved a prolonged stay in the village between October 2004 and July 2005, employed methods of participant observation, informal interviewing and a sample survey for the collection of data. These ethnographic details were supplemented by secondary material of two kinds – documents written and produced by some of the community members and the gazetteers, census reports and other research material available on the history of the region. The methods of data collection were tuned to this theoretical orientation. Participant observation was important in rooting me in the present; upon this the historical narrative was to be built. Interviews, genealogies and folksongs not only substantiated the understanding of the present but also offered ways to understand the past through the eyes of the people. The sample survey was also designed so as to trace the shifting patterns of socio-economic change over a period of thirty years. The secondary source material collected during the fieldwork, and the gazetteers, the Census reports, and other historical documents were substantiated by the ethnographic data. In fact, they can be considered ethnographic in the sense that the fieldwork provided invaluable clues about what historical documents to look into – in terms of the time period and the geographical region. It needs to be noted here, that in order to safeguard the privacy of individuals who have so wholeheartedly shared many aspects of their personal lives with me, I have replaced their real names and initials with pseudo-names and initials.

1.5 Chapter plan of the thesis The thesis is divided into nine chapters. The introductory chapter defines the socio-political context of this study. The second chapter is divided into three sections. In the first section, I review the sociological and other theories on caste. In the second section, the concept of ‘history’ is examined from a sociological point of view. I take a look at some significant developments in the field of history, such as ‘social history’, ‘subaltern studies’ and their contributions. And then works of Bourdieu, Comaroff, Connell and Donham are discussed to see how history can be integrated into an ethnographic inquiry. In the third section, I look at

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the concept of the ‘peasant’. The peasant identity, of Agaris, is almost central to our understanding of the Agari community’s historical emergence. The third chapter is about the fieldwork and methodology. Two theoretical issues – integrating history into an ethnographic inquiry and the issues related to studying one’s own community – are discussed at some length. I note that the choice of topic and the shape that the thesis finally takes has much to do with the way my Agari identity, among other things, has shaped my lived experiences. Thereafter, I touch upon the process of the selection of the fieldwork site, entry into the village, and successes and failures in gaining confidence of my informants, and methods of data collection. The next five chapters are an ethnographic and historical account of the Agari community. Chapter Four defines the ecological, social and political context of the study. The Konkan, the coastal region of Maharashtra, is the immediate geographical setting of the community. I sketch the geological and the political history of the Konkan with an emphasis on its northern part. The Agaris specialized in the reclamation, management and cultivation of these salt marshes. I show how, during British rule, the government policies and the ecological factors together laid down a new route for the development of particular forms of social stratification in this part of Maharashtra. The fifth chapter is an account of the community’s political mobilizations over land, spread over a period of hundred years, and in the larger context of the Raigad district. These mobilizations are traced through the early part of twentieth century to the present day. The sixth chapter follows the chronology of the earlier chapter, but looks at the village and its surrounding region more closely through the ethnographic and secondary data. It looks at the relation between ‘class’ and ‘caste’, in the light of Marx and Weber’s ideas on ‘class’ and ‘status’. What I shall argue is that tendencies towards stratification were very much there within the community, but they did not culminate into the formation of classes in the Marxist sense of the term. I discuss how these tendencies affected the political mobilizations of the community, which were centered on land, over a period of hundred years. The seventh and eighth chapters deal with the more recent period, which does not stretch beyond the last fifty years. In the seventh chapter, firstly, I draw attention to two significant features of the community’s life – equal participation of men and women in physical labour and a sense of identity and creative productivity that the community derives

14

Chapter One

from labour in the light of ideas of Marx and Gandhi. The social life of the people, however, has been undergoing significant changes during the last thirty or so years. The large-scale land acquisitions, urbanization and industrialization have brought far-reaching economic and social changes in the region since the 1980s. The changing labour practices over the last thirty years are traced in this chapter. In the eighth chapter, keeping in view the configuration of gender in relation to labour practices, I make an attempt to trace the shifting patterns of the gendered distribution of resources. In particular, I look at land, the distribution of which is influenced by patterns of family and kinship organization and marriage alliances. The ninth chapter discusses the conclusions. In it, I draw a brief summary and highlight the most significant insights that emerge from this study.

1

Earlier Berreman ([1971] 2005) and Mencher (1974) have hinted towards this. Of late, Deliége (1992, 1993),

Chakravarti (1993, 2003), Rege (2003) and Ilaiah (1996, 2001) have made various attempts at such a critique. 2

Jotiba Phule, Savitribai Phule, Ambedkar, E.V. Ramasamy Naicker, Rammanohar Lohia, to name only a few.

3

Datta (1999); Brouwer (1995).

4

Anthropological survey of India (1998: 41-45) lists a number of ‘Agri’ communities. The Agris of Maharashtra

are only one among them. The Agris of Delhi claim to have migrated from Rajasthan. Salt-making was their traditional occupation but now they are engaged in agriculture, mining or construction. The Agris of Gujarat believe that their ancestors originally came from Maharashtra but via Agra. They are also described as a landowning community. Similarly the Agris of Dadra Nagar Haveli, it is noted, also claim to have migrated from Agra. This is also an agricultural community. The Agers of north Karnataka are mentioned as a salt-making community and are listed among the Scheduled Castes. 5

See Appendix I for a complete table on the population and distribution of Agaris in the Bombay Presidency

6

The latest population figures for Mumbai are – total population 16,368,084 (males - 8,979,172, females -

7,388,912) (Census of India 2001 - http://www.censusindia.net/results/miilion_plus.html (accessed on June 15, 2007). 7

See Table 4.4 in Chapter Four for the literacy levels of various castes from 1911 till 1931 in the Bombay

Presidency. 8

See Table 4.5 in Chapter Four for the distribution of rent receivers, cultivators and landless labourers.

9

See Figure 5.2 in Chapter Five.

10

See Figure 7.2 in Chapter Seven.

11

Anandrao Patil, father of the author, was a resident of Agri Pada and an influential leader from the village.

Due to his influence, the acquisition of land in the village was delayed. After his death, it became easier for the Improvement Trust to acquire land from the village. 12

Agri Pada continues to be the name of the locality in south Mumbai near the present Nair Hospital where these

villages were once situated.

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15

After the plague epidemic of 1896 the British government suddenly realized the need to improve the sanitary

conditions in the city. A body parallel to the Municipal Corporation called the Improvement Trust Scheme came in place in 1898 to improve the civic infrastructure of Mumbai city and reduce the over-crowdedness of the city. However, the Maharashtra State Gazetteer (1987: 102), on ‘History of Bombay’ states that ‘in keeping with Government’s reliance on mill-owners and business magnates, it (Improvement Trust Scheme) was dominated by these interests throughout its existence’. 14

Kharpatil is the person in-charge of Kharland. It is his responsibility through the collective labour force of the

village to keep a vigil during the high tide days, to maintain the bunds and the lock gates. 15

The Marathi word for moneylender. The peasants often refer to the big landowners, to whom they were

attached as tenants, as savkar. This is the case because many of them had become tenants on account of their incapacity to pay the debts that they had incurred from the moneylenders. The system of exploitation perpetuated by these landlords is termed as savkarshahi by the older generation of Agari peasants. 16

See Rothermund (1962: 517-518).

17

Interestingly, an upwardly mobile wealthy section of the Agari community had developed a kind of distaste

for the caste name Agari owing to the low social status that was implied through it. A new caste name – Agale (meaning unique or different) - was coined and an attempt was made to bring it in usage so as to escape the stigma attached to the Agari caste identity. At that time, it remained limited to a small circle of educated Agari and it is not in vogue any more. 18

The antecedents of the were of the term Other Backward Classes and provision of privileges go back to the

pre-Independence period and have their origins in a more inclusive term called ‘Backward Classes’, sometimes also called ‘Depressed Classes’. Galanter (1984: 154-187) traces its origin to 1917, when Montagu, then secretary of state to India, visited India, to discuss among other things the rights of minority communities. However, it acquired technical meaning in 1918 in Mysore when the government appointed a committee to enquire into the question of encouraging members of the ‘backward communities’ in public services. In 1921 preferential recruitment was instituted for them and they were defined as ‘all communities other than Brahmins’ (ibid.). Back then the category did not specifically identify the communities to be treated as backward. Till Independence the meaning of the term ‘backward communities’ varied from state to state. After the listing of the Scheduled Castes, however, the usage of the term as a synonym for untouchables was dropped. Two major usages emerged, which depended on the contexts in which the term was used. Sometimes the term ‘backward communities’ was used to refer to a more inclusive group of all (SCs, STs and other backward communities) those who need special treatment and on other occasions it was exclusively reserved for a stratum higher than the untouchables but nonetheless depressed. The latter usage is equivalent to today’s ‘Other Backward Classes’. 19

Article 340 of the Indian Constitution gives directives to the President of India to appoint a commission to

identify educationally and socially backward castes and classes. The first such Commission was the Kalelkar commission. It submitted its report in 1956 but the recommendations were never implemented. Under growing pressure from the backward castes, the second commission (Mandal Commission) was appointed by the Janata Party-led government of 1977.

16

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Chapter One

The Ramayan is a Hindu epic written by sage Valmiki and a revered text of the Hindu canon. It is the story of

prince Ram of Ayodhya and his wife Sita. Although there are several versions available of it, the most famous one has Ravan portrayed as a formidable anti-hero who by treachery and deceit abducted Sita. Ram with the assistance of vanaras (portrayed as ape-like men in the text) and his younger brother Laxman attacked Ravan’s prosperous city, Lanka, fought a war with the demon king, and succeeded in killing him and releasing Sita. Ironically, Ram publicly asked Sita to prove her chastity by entering into sacred fire viz. yagnya kunda. 21

From one of my informants in Mumbai, I obtained a lengthy prose document titled Daxini Rana Rajput

Geetavali, which traces the past of the Agaris through a Kshatriya lineage. This document identifies the Kshatriya Surya vansha (Solar lineage, one of the illustrious lineages from Hindu mythology) as the Agari lineage and thus links the Agari past to the ‘Aryan race’. The document clearly states that this information was collected from the Bhats. Bhats here are Brahman priests of Nashik, a holy place where many local communities usually perform the last rites for the deceased. The Bhats keep the genealogies of families who pay visits for funeral rites to the holy place of Trambyakeshwar.

Chapter Two Anthropology and history of caste: some theoretical concerns 2.1 Introduction The theoretical framework of the present study is best summarized through two concepts, namely, caste and history. The marginalization, exploitation and repression of lower caste communities, is a characteristic feature of Indian society. Therefore, my interest was to see how the disciplines of sociology and anthropology have theorized the subjective as well as the objective aspects of this reality. Here in this chapter I recount the contributions of sociological and anthropological debates on caste in the light of this social reality. From there I move on to more theoretical and methodological issues involved in studying the emergence of the caste community and its marginalization. The field of social history and anthropological approaches with an emphasis on ‘historicity’ provide us some important clues. The peasant character of the community of Agaris is an important aspect and the literature of peasant studies is abundant. I take note of some key works which have influenced the thesis. Section 2.2 begins with the colonial discourse on caste and its orientalist critique. The orientalist critique of the colonial discourse has influenced the recent sociological scholarship

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on caste. But even critics of the hegemonic practices of the colonial discourse failed to take into account the ‘exploitative’ character of the caste system. ‘Sanskritization’ and ‘dominant caste’ are two concepts which introduced ‘change’ into the analysis of the caste system which was till then perceived as a static entity. However, even these concepts camouflage the hegemony of Brahmanical ideology and non-economic forms of oppression. Ritual status, Dumont argued, encompasses power and economy, resulting in the supremacy of the Brahman over the remaining castes. But he negated ‘exploitation’ as a characteristic of the caste system. Inden (1990), Dirks (1987), Quigley (1999, 2003) and Raheja (1988) have questioned Dumont. But they also overlook the experiences of Indians, many of whom perceive Brahmanical supremacy to be the result of the hegemony of the caste. After Dumont we focus on the American sociologists who tried using ‘caste’ as a generalized concept to analyze racism in America. Authors like Cox (1970), Berreman (1960) and Moore (1978) debated the applicability of the concept of caste in the context of racism in America to understand issues related to repression and the violation of human dignity. Some of these American sociologists saw caste as a mechanism of exploitation. Mencher (1974), Deliége (1992, 1993), Berreman (2005), Chakravarti (1993, 2003), Omvedt (1976, 1994), Rege (2003), Guru (2001) and Ilaiah (1996, 2001) have drawn our attention to the exploitative aspects of caste. An overview of the views of Indians on caste follows with a special focus on Phule, Periyar, Ambedkar and Lohia, who perceived the caste system and the ideology behind it to be exploitative. I also look at the ways envisaged by them to uproot the evil viz. the exploitation perpetrated by the system. If marginalization is a process, interplay between structure and agency, then it requires an inquiry which is sensitive to this dynamics. In section 2.3, therefore, I discuss the concept of history and in brief its relation with caste. I begin with a review of studies of single castes. Social history has emerged as a subfield over the last century or so and has played a significant role in giving voice to those at the bottom of the social hierarchy. Also, social history borrowed much from sociology/anthropology. Therefore, some developments in the field are relevant over here. I take a look at such works (Thompson 1963; Hobsbawm 1997a, 1997b), Subaltern Studies and the history writing tradition in Maharashtra. Since the 1980s there has been a more systematic integration of history into sociology/anthropology (Abrams 1982; Comaroff 1985). I review some ideas of Bourdieu (1997), Comaroff (1985) and Connell (1987, 2004).

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In section 2.4, I deal with the concept of ‘peasant’ and its relation with caste. Although in the thesis, Agaris are referred to as a caste, they are also alternately referred to as ‘peasants’. Since the concept has been used in social sciences in a variety of contexts I briefly trace its trajectories and in the end establish my own purpose in using it.

2.2 Caste debates Colonial discourse After colonial domination was firmly established over much of Asia, the colonial administrators, scholars, missionaries and travelers produced extensive literature on these conquered societies. Said (1995) has called this discourse Orientalism. Orientalism can be discussed and analyzed as the corporate institution for dealing with the Orient dealing with it by making statements about it, by authorizing views about it, describing it, by teaching it, settling it, ruling over it: in short, Orientalism as a Western style for dominating, restructuring and having authority over the Orient (Edward Said 1995: 3).

The discourse is hegemonic and is not a result of ‘prejudice or bias’, ‘like or dislike’ or even ‘lack of objectivity or empathy’ towards the Asians (Inden 1990: 38). It is a result of the power that the West held over the Orient. A number of recurring themes appear through this discourse. The colonial discourse presents itself as a form of knowledge that is both different from and superior to the knowledge that the Orientals have of themselves (Said 1995). It constitutes the Orient as an object and ‘other’ to the Western self. The colonial discourse in India also produced a number of themes which objectified Indian society. Inden (1990) and Dirks (1987) are pioneers in developing a critique of these colonial discourses of India. Since India was constituted as a static whole, without a sense of history, and caste was made into one of its defining institutions (Inden identifies Hinduism and village as the other two) by colonial discourses, this critique is also a critique of the colonial ideas on ‘caste’. Inden’s critique is directed specifically at the texts produced during colonial rule, although it does not strictly hold on to any geographical and temporal boundary. Dirks’ arguments, at least in Hollow Crown, critique the orientalist discourse, but are directed more

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towards comparative sociology and specifically towards Dumont. They would make more sense in the light of Dumont’s thesis.

‘Imagining India’ A quick review of Inden’s critique in Imagining India of the colonial texts that attributed caste the status of ‘the distinctive social institution’ of India (Inden 1990: 49) can give us a succinct summary of the colonial view on caste. Inden argued that India was considered to be ‘the Asian land governed by a disorderly imagination instead of a world ordering rationality’ (ibid.: 49) and caste was the ‘outer manifestation’ of this ‘disorderly imagination’. Orientalist discourse, however, is not necessarily cohesive and therefore can produce different sets of ‘statements’. Inden differentiates between the ‘empiricist realist’ texts (which are also called ‘hegemonic’) and ‘romantic idealist’ texts of Indian orientalism (ibid.: 51). He identifies a third category of those texts which do not conform with these two above mentioned categories (I shall refer to this category again when I discuss Dumont). Among the ‘hegemonic’ texts, one group of texts focuses on the ‘political economy’ of the Orient. Two concepts, ‘oriental despotism’ and ‘Asiatic mode of production’, remove human agency from the East (Montesquieu, Marx). A second group of texts identify conquerability of India as a feature that has distinguished India from other countries, even China (James Mill, Anthony Macdonell). There is a paradox here, since the colonial discourse implies that in India ‘repeated conquests of that subcontinent did not bring an end to her civilization or even for that matter produce any fundamental change in it’ (ibid.: 55). Conquests are bound to produce some change in the conquered society. There is a paradox in the co-existence of such change-producing agents as foreign invasions and continuity of the civilization. Inden then introduces his third category of texts where he shows this paradox being resolved by introducing caste (Mill, Risley). It is seen as an ‘essence’, the ‘substantialized agent’ of Indian society. Hinduism was thought to be an ‘indeterminate fluid collection of customs and beliefs’ by many Indologists (ibid.: 57). ‘Caste’ made knowledge and control amidst this confusion possible. According to Inden, the fact that the word caste was derived from the Portuguese word ‘casta’ is a proof that this concept was imposed by the West to create knowledge about India and thus control it.

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The ‘romantic idealists’ share the epistemology and ontology of the empiricist realists but, they differ in their evaluation of Indian society. The features of Indian society which ‘empiricist realists’ considered ‘wasteful’ and ‘deluded’ were considered ‘worthy of study’ and ‘praise’ by the ‘romantic idealists’ (ibid.: 67). Despite these overt differences, Inden finds much in common among these two schools. Both ‘empiricist realists’ and ‘romantic idealists’ agree upon the fact that there is a ‘single absolute reality’ about Indian society – caste - and both displace human agency onto it. The only difference between the two is that the empiricist realists have ‘displaced it onto an external social structure or materially grounded human nature’. The idealists on the other hand have ‘displaced it onto an internal, spiritual nature’ (ibid.: 73-74). Inden rejects ‘the idea that makes caste rather than kingship or polity as the constitutive institution of Indian civilization’. He argues that ‘castes are not cause of the weakness and collapse of Hindu kingship but the effect of it’ (ibid.: 82), contrary to what is conventionally believed. Inden’s (1990: 66) chief argument seems to be against making caste the ‘substantializing agent of India’s history’. This displacing of India’s agency and history on the essence of caste is indeed a hegemonic practice of the colonial discourse. However, a problem arises in the Orientalist critique when one takes the argument so far as to term caste an ‘invention’ of the colonial discourse. This inference negates the experiences of Indians for whom caste is an everyday reality, as a form of repression or exploitation – social, cultural and economic. The other arguments made in order to reclaim the agency of Indians from the hegemony of colonial discourse by Orientalist critics like Inden and Dirks are that the Brahman was not at the top of the hierarchy and that the crown was not as hollow as it was made out to be. These arguments may be true in certain contexts but only so far as one does not want to question the lack of rationality attributed to Indians. We cannot forget that for Ambedkar and others, for whom cultural repression was the most significant feature of caste system, the Brahman was at the top of the hierarchy. I shall examine more closely the debates surrounding the Brahman’s hierarchical position when I discuss Dumont below.

‘Sanskritization’ and ‘dominant caste’ Between 1950 and 1960 M. N. Srinivas conceptualized two significant features of caste society in India. These two concepts in a way put a question mark on the depiction of the

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Indian caste system as a static social formation with little space for social change and violation of its basic principles – repulsion, hierarchy and hereditary specialization – identified by some theorists as the defining characteristics of the caste system (Bouglé 1971: 9; Dumont 1998: 21). 1 ‘Sanskritization’ as a concept first appeared in Religion and society among the Coorgs of south India (1952). It refers to the process in which castes, usually ‘in the middle regions of the caste hierarchy’ took over ‘the customs, rites and beliefs’ of the twice-born castes, and their ‘way of life’ (Srinivas 1956: 42). In a generation or two, the castes were often able to rise to a higher position. By theorizing this process, Srinivas showed that although the castes were assumed to occupy a fixed position within the hierarchy, in actuality that was not necessarily the case. The concept of ‘dominant caste’ was defined by Srinivas in McKim Marriot’s edited Village India thus – A caste may be said to be ‘dominant’ when it preponderates numerically over the other castes, and when it also wields preponderant economic and political power. A large and powerful caste group can be more easily dominant if its position in the local caste hierarchy is not too low (referred by Srinivas in Srinivas 1994: 97).

As a concept, Srinivas considers ‘dominant caste’ important for the understanding of village life in general, and for the understanding of ‘sanskritization’ in particular. The dominance of a ritually low caste is decoded through his fieldwork in a Karnataka village, Rampura. The Okkaligas, a ritually low peasant caste, are a dominant caste in the village. The factors which contribute to their dominance are their numerical strength, landownership, number of educated men, and number of wealthy and influential men. Their dominance had risen in the recent past due to the migration of Brahmans, who were the landholding community, to urban centers and due to the non-Brahman movement which opened education and economic opportunities for this peasant caste (ibid.: 98-99). Through a detailed description of conflict resolution in the village and the region and of the traditional castebased system of justice, Srinivas shows how the dominant caste of Okkaligas was sought out even by the non-Okkaligas for resolution of conflicts. At times even castes ritually higher than the Okkaligas, such as Lingayats, sought their assistance.

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Yet these concepts which effectively captured the dynamics of the caste system failed to point out that sanskritization did not really change the underlying unequal power structure of the caste system. Rather it worked in favour of Brahmanical hegemony as sanskritization ensured that the hegemony was not questioned. The options available for sanskritization of the lower castes were not unlimited as Srinivas himself has pointed out (Srinivas 1956: 483484). In fact the options were highly diluted and ensured the continuation of the hierarchy. A critique of the concept of the ‘dominant caste’ by Gail Omvedt appears in Chapter Four where she asserts that generally it was some families within a particular caste who were wealthy and therefore influential. In Maharashtra she shows that in the early twentieth century, amongst the Marathas, the large majority of peasantry was poor (Omvedt 1976: 92-96).

Homo Hierarchicus Dumont talks about two mutually opposing configurations of ideas. One is characteristic of traditional societies and the other is characteristic of modern societies. In the first…the stress is placed on the society as a whole, as collective Man; the ideal derives from the organization of society with respect to its ends (and not with respect to individual happiness); it is above all a matter of order, of hierarchy; each particular man in his place must contribute to the global order, and justice consists in ensuring that the proportions between social functions are adapted to the whole (Dumont 1998: 9).

On the other hand in modern society The kingdom of ends coincides with each man’s legitimate ends, and so the values are turned upside down. What is still called ‘society’ is the means, the life of each man is the end. Ontologically, the society no longer exists, it is no more than an irreducible datum, which must in no way thwart the demands of liberty and equality (ibid: 9-10).

Dumont’s argument is that traditional societies ‘know nothing of equality and liberty as values’ (ibid: 8). They also know nothing of the individual as they have a collective idea of man. The assumption that traditional societies have a collective idea of man may itself be debated, but let us for the time being accept it. Then, does this mean that it will have nothing to do with the individual? And even if it does not have anything to do with the individual, does it mean that there is no idea of equality and liberty? How does hierarchy come naturally to every collective society? Are all collective societies hierarchical?

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Dumont has criticized earlier sociologists for perceiving Indian society through the lens of individualism, which he believes has become a part of sociology due to its emergence in Western society. Yet his association of collectivism with hierarchy and individualism with equality and liberty itself reeks of ethnocentrism. Without going into the depth of this rather debatable issue, one can conclude by giving an example where collectivism and equality at ideological and practical levels did coincide. There can be more empirical examples, but this is not the place to dwell on them. Buddhist doctrine puts a strong emphasis on collective wellbeing and equality. For Buddha the two did not necessarily contradict. At a very fundamental level, Dumont ‘others’ Indian society in such a way that he sees hierarchy and the collectivity follow a completely different logic here, but he does not find hierarchy to be necessarily evil. He fails to see the ‘exploitative’ character of the caste system. At least at one place he criticizes the earlier theorists who see the caste system as ‘exploitative’ (ibid: 32). This is because for Dumont, the idea of hierarchy is different from the idea of ‘social stratification’ or ‘power hierarchy’ (ibid.: 19). In his words to adopt a value is to introduce hierarchy and a certain consensus of values, a certain hierarchy of ideas, things and people is indispensable to social life. This is quite independent of natural inequalities or distribution of power (ibid: 20).

He argues that in the case of India there is no need to identify hierarchy with power. He finds the caste system to be fulfilling positive functions and thus he says it is a remarkable fact that, quite apart from the Indians, no Westerner who has lived in India, whether the most fervent reformer or the most zealous missionary has ever, so far as is known, attempted or recommended the abolition pure and simple of the cast [sic] system, either because of an acute consciousness of the positive functions fulfilled by the system,…………or simply because such thing appeared too impracticable (ibid: 1).

Dumont grants that the caste system is based on unequal relations, but refutes that this inequality entails exploitation (ibid: 32). According to Dumont, castes were arranged in a hierarchy based on the principles of the opposition of purity and impurity. This principle is at the basis of hierarchy, separation and division of labour. Since hierarchy is independent of natural inequalities or the distribution of power, even the king in whom power vested, was subordinate to the Brahman priest. In fact, the king was the instrument of dharma. The hierarchy was based on religious ranking and was distinct from power. It is a principle by which the elements are ranked in relation to the whole. He constructed an ideal model of the

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traditional caste system. He proposed that castes outside India could be called castes only if they met the criteria of being a part of a system based on the principles which he talked about. Dirks, Inden as mentioned earlier, and Quigley, Raheja, and Berreman have sought to differ from Dumont. Some of them have specifically sought to rescue Indian kings and kingship from the Dumontian paradigm.

Was the crown really hollow? Dirks, in Hollow Crown, points at the fact that the ‘Indian state was barely visible to comparative sociology’ (Dirks 1987: 3). Weber, Marx, Maine and Dumont according to Dirks held the Indian state to be epiphenomenal. It was caste and not the state that held the village communities together. The Brahman was at the apex. Weber attributed this superiority of the Brahman over the king to otherworldly and spiritual principles. For Dumont the political and economic life is encompassed by the religious. Thus, the king might be politically powerful but he is inferior because he represents the political domain and is less pure as compared to the Brahman. According to Dirks, this view of the Indian state was a result of colonial interest in controlling the East. Through his study of an erstwhile south Indian kingdom he shows that ‘until the emergence of British colonial rule in southern India the crown was not as hollow as it has been generally made out to be’. Dirks further continues to argue that ‘kings were not inferior to Brahmans; the political domain was not encompassed by the religious domain’ (ibid.: 4). The Indian state forms did not fit into the western categories of the state but they had an important role in Indian society. In fact, the political struggles and processes shaped caste and in turn Indian society. Inden (1990) divided the colonial discourse on caste into three categories. The first two we have discussed earlier. The third category of texts which have some ‘dissenting and changing views’ (ibid.: 74-84) includes among others Hocart’s model of caste. This is a text which, according to Inden, does not objectify India. It stands out among others as it places the king at the center and not the Brahman. Although Dumont dissents from a majority of the colonial representations of India he also, according to Inden, ‘does not break with the notion of caste as the substantialized agent of Indian civilization’ (ibid.: 78). Unlike Dumont and in tune with Dirks and Inden, Quigley viewed the caste system as organized around the institution of kingship rather than around the priestly role of the

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Brahman (Quigley 2003: 25-48). He stressed that the system was inherently unstable. It was a form of political structure where kinship and kingship pulled against each other and the priests were the mediators of this tension. In such a conception, the caste phenomenon was no longer viewed as ahistorical. Raheja (1988: 24-29) has argued that in the village Pahansu where she did her fieldwork, it is the Gujars who occupy centrality as the jajmans of the village. She argues that Dumont and Pocock have sought to differentiate between the prestations given to the Brahmans and to other service castes by the jajman and thus pointed at the superiority of the Brahmans. While the Brahman is ‘pure’, the washerfolk and the barbers are ‘impure’. In Pahansu, Raheja argues, the ‘Gujars give dan (the most important prestation in the framework of jajmani relationships) to Brahmans and kamins alike...’ (ibid.: 28). According to her, this ritual centrality of Gujars and the ‘similarity of function among Brahmans, Barbers and Sweepers’, define the jajmani relationships in Pahansu (ibid.). There are two distinct orders of caste in the village. One is grounded in rank or hierarchy and the other one in the ‘centrality of the dominant caste of jajmans’. Both these orders are acted upon in different contexts in the village social life. Thus, in the view of Dirks and Raheja it was rulers, and those who exercised king-like power through the command of men and land and other material resources, who stood at the apex of India’s scheme of moral order and values. Berreman (2005: 84-92) too asserted the falseness of the power/status dichotomy. According to him, generally, power and status went together. History showed that claims for higher rank were made on the basis of what Dumont calls status but that claims were granted or denied on the basis of power. Berreman also differed from Dumont on the complicity of the lower castes and absence of exploitation that his arguments conveyed. In his review of the book Homo hierarchicus (HH), he argues that the lower castes in India have often seen themselves as victimized and have often thought of ways to escape the oppression during the considerably long period of 2000 years (Berreman 1971: 515). Berreman claimed that Dumont had been listening too much to what Brahmans had to say. The fact that he had referred only to Sanskritic sources showed why his views were charged of conforming to high caste views (ibid.). André Béteille (1969) has argued that Dumont’s stress on ideology had produced an intellectualized account of Indian society which ignored the role of interests (material and otherwise). Interestingly, Murray Milner (1994), by applying Max Weber’s concept of status to the Indian caste system, emphasizes much like Dumont that the Brahman

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is at the apex and that the King is below him. Similar to Dumont, he also finds some positive aspects in the system although he does not deny the exploitative aspect of it (ibid.: 16). Although Dumont refused to see the hierarchy of the caste system as exploitative, with his theory of purity and pollution, where the Brahman was at the apex, and even the king was his subordinate, he is much closer to the understanding of Ambedkar and several other lowercaste Indians who critically analyzed the caste system. There are also some concrete examples from Indian history where the Brahmans exercised their power over the king. The controversy over the coronation of Shivaji 2 and the controversy of the vedokta versus puranokta rites involving the Maratha king Shahu Maharaja 3 of Kolhapur are cases in point. Therefore many Indians would not completely agree with the assertion that ‘caste is a colonial invention’ or that the ‘Brahman was not superior to the king’. One might argue that these assertions by the Indians are the result of the influence of the orientalist discourse on the thoughts of Indians. Indians themselves have come to see India through orientalist lenses. This is a risky premise because it renders Indians incapable of making sense of their own political and social history. It is similar to the kind of high-handedness that the orientalists exemplified. The argument that caste is a colonial invention coincides with the view of the urban, educated, high-caste Indians who believe that ‘caste’ is not a relevant social fact and has been invented by the politicians who have their narrow interests to serve. The only difference is that the critics of orientalists blame the invention of caste on the colonial discourse and the contemporary dominant discourse blames it on the politicians, especially those belonging to lower castes. Caste is regarded as a colonial invention by the critics of orientalism due to their failure to take into account the Indian view on caste. If Indology had relied exclusively on the Brahmanical texts it is rightfully criticized for such a biased account of Indian society. But then a review of the views of various castes considered low would have been a possible alternative. That does not seem to have happened. Many Indians have dedicated their lives to fight against the evils of caste. They identified caste as the central problem of Indian society. Among them are western educated thinkers like Phule, Ambedkar, Lohia and Periyar. There are numerous indigenous discourses also which took the form of religious movements such as Buddhism, Jainism, Bhakti and Sufism, which questioned the Brahmanical ideology.

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Caste and race The discussion so far shows that the bulk of sociological and anthropological literature on caste did not identify caste as a system of exploitation. Some American sociologists however, found commonalities between caste and race as social orders perpetuating exploitation. Some other American sociologists however did not quite agree with this analogy between caste and race. Yet these debates on caste and race produced some critical discussions about the exploitative character of caste and the complicity of the lower castes in the system. Caste as a generalized concept was used for the first time in the Deep South of America, as an analytical tool to understand the various dimensions of social inequality related to racism. There was an acute awareness that the nature of racial divisions ran counter to the key American value of equality of opportunity. Caste was detached from Indian social reality and taken as a sociological conceptual tool independent of the cultural context. These scholars used the term ‘caste’ instead of ‘race’ or ‘ethnic group’ because they were concerned with presenting race as a social construction which had little to do with genetics. They also found it apt as the concept of caste allowed them to emphasize that racial discrimination was a social institution and not a result of individual prejudice (Sharma 2002). W. Lloyd Warner (1936) referred to White and Black races as castes. Although class and ‘caste’ were generally found to be antithetical to each other by American sociologists, in Warner’s study of a Southern American community, ‘caste’ and class were found to have coexisted and accommodated each other. Cox (1970), emphatically rejected the implicated comparison between USA and India when caste as a concept was applied to study races, because he perceived caste as a system based upon a moral order involving collective consensus (Sharma 2002: 17-18). For him, the reproduction of caste was not based on repression whereas the American system was based on economic, political and cultural repression. Further, he argued that by applying the concept of caste, race is mystified and that Warner had turned an anthropological eye on the Deep South. This ‘othering’ gaze and objectification of race created a discomfort in Cox's mind. The notion that the Indian caste system secured the compliance of those it oppressed survived. Barrington Moore (1978) also viewed the caste system as an extreme form of social control rather than an extreme form of social stratification (Sharma 2002: 18-19). Berreman was the only one, among these American sociologists, who had a first hand knowledge of Indian society. He agreed with Warner and Davis when they said that caste and

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race were comparable and he differed from Cox, Simpson and Yinger who had criticized the usage of caste to refer to race. For him, caste constituted a pathological violation of human dignity and depended on force and repression quite as much as the racial divide in USA (Sharma 2002: 19-20).

Caste as exploitation Among the few notable studies of caste which have highlighted its exploitative character are those done by Mencher (1974) and Deliége (1992, 1993). Mencher argues that seen from the ‘the point of view of the people at the lowest end of the scale, caste has functioned (and continues to function) as a very effective system of economic exploitation’ (Mencher 1974: 469). She argues that although many have viewed it as a system which symbolizes interdependence, that is a feature of any social stratification system. She demonstrates how the idea of caste as an ‘arrangement of symbiosis’ has been a feature of many non-Indian (Leach) as well as Indian (Iswaran) sociologists (ibid.: 470). These views of sociologists coincided with views that Mencher’s high-caste informants held. Deliége (1992, 1993) critiques Moffat’s (1979) concepts of ‘consensus’ and ‘replication’. Through his study of the myths of origin among ‘untouchable’ castes, he makes the point that the lowest in the caste hierarchy do not willingly submit to the exploitation of the upper castes. Of late new critiques of caste have highlighted its ‘exploitative’ aspects. Uma Chakravarti’s significant contribution to the understanding of caste would be the integration of gender with the analysis of Brahmanical hegemony (1993). She calls this integrated existence of caste and gender hierarchy, “Brahmanical patriarchy” and underlines that any analysis of caste is incomplete without an analysis of patriarchy and its relation to caste, a point which is echoed in the writings of Sharmila Rege (1995, 2003) as well. Chakravarti, in her latest work, has pointed out how ‘sociological writing…often intellectualizes and thereby masks rather than explains the structure of the caste system’ (2003: 6-7). According to her it ‘overemphasizes the ritual aspect and completely escapes the questions of material conditions and power’. While Dumont identifies purity and pollution as the underlying principles of the caste system, the ‘cultural oppression’ remains the distinguishing feature of the caste system for Ambedkar (ibid.: 7). Gail Omvedt’s analysis of Indian society has also consistently brought caste along with class to the center (Omvedt 1976, 1994). Kancha Ilaiah (1996, 2001), Gopal Guru (2001) and Eleanor Zelliot (2001) are other writers who have been looking at the oppressive aspects of caste from a Dalit and Bahujan point of view. But significantly,

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these writings are only just beginning to be integrated with the received sociological and anthropological scholarship.

Caste as seen by Indians The above discussion illustrates that it is imperative to see what ‘caste’ and the ‘caste system’ mean for Indians, especially when we are concerned with its exploitative aspect. Sharma (2002: 31-46) has also stressed the need to look at what Indians, as insiders have to say about caste. Subjecting the Indian understanding of caste to sociological scrutiny is not easy, as there is no public discourse in which caste is constructed as a morally or politically justified mode of action. This is true despite the fact that caste is still practiced and even justified privately. Therefore, it is necessary to look at the private discourses behind the public ones (ibid.: 33). 4 One can argue that Indian society maintains a deliberate silence over the issue of ‘caste’, although in real life the ‘caste system’ very much exists. This is similar to the phenomenon of the customary silence surrounding the subject of racism in the racially divided Brazilian society which Robin Sheriff (2000) calls ‘cultural censorship’. Sherrif’s argument seems relevant to the Indian situation. He says that ‘within discourse centered approaches especially, there is often an implicit, yet compelling, assumption that the “loudness” and salience of the issues that figure within public discourses attest to their social and political significance, while the apparent absence of discourse about other issues in either public or private arenas confirms their irrelevance’ (Sherrif 2000: 114). Such silence he argues is socially shared, as it requires collaboration. ‘It is both a consequence and index of an unequal distribution of power’ (ibid.), basically a result of political interests of the dominant group. Thus, he argues that this ‘silence, like discourse must be deconstructed’ (ibid.). At the level of practice or personal interactions especially in urban India, within family, peer group, neighbourhood or even such public places as offices, markets or schools, caste exists. However, when it comes to openly acknowledging its presence, caste remains conspicuous by its absence. The following are some of the arenas where there is a collaborative silence about caste, despite its existence. In some of these arenas, there are moments or instances when the silence is broken, only to justify the usual silence again. Caste is about ritual purity and pollution, but in the urban context it has become difficult to maintain the restrictions related to purity and pollution in the public arena.

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However, at the private level, the vocabulary of ritual purity and pollution still provides a language for talking about caste. It is used more for discussing the relative status of specific local castes than for justifying the entire caste system. This is not confined to the higher castes, e.g. the blacksmiths of Himalaya argue that they should not be treated as ‘untouchables’ as they did not eat the flesh of cattle and buffaloes (Sharma 2002: 37). This is also evident in matters concerning marriage. Even today, in India, in most of the marriages that are arranged, by and large, partners are sought from within one’s own caste and subcaste. Although one might argue that there is a growing trend of ‘love matches’, there is reason to believe that caste preferences in marriages have not diluted. Reservations or affirmative action based on caste in India have also brought caste into public debate. This public debate – where the dominant voice generally denies the existence of caste differences and resulting inequalities in power distribution - speaks volumes about the collaborative silence surrounding caste. Not all Indians, however, have defended the caste system or looked at it uncritically. They have often questioned the caste system because of its exploitative nature. The values of hierarchy were never accepted unquestioningly as Dumont claimed them to be. There are spaces within Indian society where egalitarian values survived or even flourished. Examples of such spaces are the anti-ritualist Bhakti sects (Varkari Panth, Mahanubhav Panth, Kabir Panth, Sufism). They stressed the equality of souls in front of god. These sects were popular mainly among the low castes. The non-Brahman movements of Tamil Nadu and Maharashtra are more recent examples of such subversive tendencies. They did not develop only in response to the Western criticism of caste, which Ursula Sharma (2002) has assumed to be the case. But the Western criticism of the caste system and colonial rule definitely opened up more possibilities of change. These radical minds leveled an attack on the very many drawbacks of Indian culture. A radical discourse rooted in the political domain continues to thrive in contemporary India. But the social and economic contexts have changed. The issues and strategies have also taken novel forms.

The radical views on caste Phule, Ambedkar, E. V. Ramasamy Naicker (Periyar) and Lohia are some prominent political figures who waged a war – ideological and social/political - against the evils of the caste system.

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Brahman at the apex All of them viewed the caste system as a system of exploitation which had created much misery for the men and women of lower castes – Shudras and Atishudras. The major and consistent theme of Mahatma Phule’s writings is that the Brahman is the culprit, who exploits the poor and non-literate peasants, the Kunabis. His first major work, a play called Tritiya Ratna ([1855] 1991), is a case in point. In Shetkaryaacha Asood (The whipcord of the peasants) (Phule [1883] 1991) he shows how the Brahman, both as the ascetic and as the bureaucrat, looted the poor peasants. Ambedkar, on the other hand, leveled a consistent attack on the Hindu religion. Yet, he differentiated between the three higher varnas and Shudras. Brahmans, Kshatriyas and Vaishyas, he argued, joined hands against the Shudras and barred them from acquiring education and wealth (Ambedkar [1936] 1986: 75). In his plea for the annihilation of caste, he argues that a Brahman would not be party to such an effort directed against the caste system, whether he/she be orthodox or progressive, because the struggle is against a system, which safeguards the interests of the Brahmans (ibid: 91). The Dravidian non-Brahman movement of South under the leadership of Periyar was also mainly directed against Brahmanical domination in administrative jobs, education and social life (Pandian 1994: 85).

The evils of the caste system The evils that have plagued Indian society due to the caste system are numerous. In Phule’s analysis, economic exploitation of the poor peasants, especially at the hands of the Brahman priests and bureaucrats, is a recurring theme. His play Tritiya ratna (Phule [1855] 1991) portrays the plight of a Kunabi 5 family at the hands of a Brahman ascetic. With the mediation of a clown (vidushak) and a Christian priest, the family becomes aware of the crafts of the Brahman ascetic and the importance of education. Finally, they (husband and wife) decide to get themselves educated in the night schools run by Jotiba Phule and Savitribai Phule. In his work Shetkaryacha Asood Phule accuses the bureaucracy, dominated by the British and the Brahmans, of drawing huge salaries and pensions by arbitrarily taxing the poor peasants. India’s inability to produce a revolution, her inability to progress, and to safeguard her sovereignty against foreign conquerors were all an inevitable result of the caste-ridden society for Ambedkar. For him, the caste system is not just a ‘division of labour’ but instead a ‘division of labourers’ (Ambedkar [1936] 1986: 42). Such a division, he argues, has put

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restrictions on the freedom of choice of all individuals. What is more, the fact that the caste system considers some occupations lowly had led its followers to develop a dislike for their own work, and a tendency to give up the work. Such an attitude, he argued, had been responsible for a decline in overall productivity (ibid: 42-44). He also talked about the conceited and selfish attitude that the caste system produced among its followers. Such an attitude he felt fostered the disintegration of Indian society as there was hardly any feeling of unity among the citizens of the country. The vision of members of every caste was shortsighted and did not go beyond the interests of their own caste (ibid: 48-58). Lohia (1984) drew our attention to the psychological effects that such a system had on its followers. He argues that hypocrisy - the discrepancy between one’s thoughts and actions had become a characteristic feature of Indian society and was a gift of the caste system. It had gifted a majority of Indians with an irremediable sense of inferiority and a miniscule minority with a matching sense of superiority. The sense of inferiority prevalent among the low castes increased a feeling of jealousy and thus led to blind imitation of the upper castes. Lohia’s politics, thus, was aimed at replacing this jealousy with self-respect and confidence. Ambedkar ([1936] 1986) and Lohia (1984) echo each other when they question the analysis of socialists and communists who assume that economic progress would automatically lead to the eradication of caste inequalities. Ambedkar highlights the greater influence that religion exerts on the society (Ambedkar [1936] 1986: 35-41). Religion, wealth and social status as social factors influence the acquisition of power. Ambedkar accused Indian socialists of blindly following Western socialists who sought to understand European history through the prism of economism. According to Ambedkar, to assume that economic factors primarily determined the course of history was a fallacy, not only in the case of Indian society but also in the case of past European societies (ibid.)

Annihilation of caste Jotiba Phule’s answer to the Brahmanical religion was an alternative religion - Sarvajanik Satyadharma. The foundation of this religion was laid in 1873, when he established an organization called Satyashodhak Samaj (The truth-seekers society). Its purpose was to expose the deceit of Brahmans and curb their monopoly and hegemony in religious rituals. As a part of this campaign Satyashodhak Samaj organized marriages without a Brahman priest. They devised simple ceremonies to be conducted by any person irrespective of his/her caste

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and gender. However, the philosophical and theological position behind these activities gained a concrete form much later in his life. In his last book Sarvajanik Satyadharma Pustak ([1889] 1991), published posthumously in 1891, he had offered an alternative to the Brahmanical religion. The new religion delineated by Phule is open for ‘all people’ (Sarvajanik) and holds ‘truth’ (Satya) as a value supreme to any other authority. He conceived ‘Nirmik’ (the creator) as the supreme, an abstract divine force, devoid of any concrete form (nirgun nirakar). Such a conception stood in stark contrast to the Hindu Brahmanical religion, which did not give equal access to all its followers and distinguished among them on the basis of their birth, and justified falsehoods of inequality and exploitation on the basis of religion (ibid.). Ambedkar asserted that nothing but annihilation of the caste system would save the country from the moral and social degeneration caused by the system itself. Although he did acknowledge the fact that inter-caste marriages and co-dining would pave the way for the eradication of caste, he was convinced that that would not resolve the injustices of caste effectively. For him what was more important was to absolve the faith of Hindus from the Hindu religious scriptures which propagated and justified the caste system. It was more important to encourage people to question the very basis of the religious doctrines of Hinduism (Ambedkar [1936] 1986: 85-90). Like Ambedkar, the final aim of the “self-respect movement” of Tamil Nadu, spearheaded by Periyar, was also to create a casteless society free from the oppression of Brahmanical Hinduism (Chatterjee 2004: 33). Inter-caste, self-arranged marriages were seen as an effective means leading towards such a society. One of the earliest and quite successful programmes of self-respect movement was to conduct such marriages across the Madras presidency. Except for Lohia all found the roots of the caste oppression in the Hindu religion, a religion which justified this oppression. They either sought to replace it with an alternative religion, or sought to give up any kind of religion altogether. Rammanohar Lohia envisioned a complete uprooting of the caste system and creating a feeling of self-respect and confidence among the ‘lifeless’ downtrodden masses as the remedy to the decline of India. His political movement took a concrete form only in postIndependence India. The contexts which defined his actions were therefore different from the times of Phule, Ambedkar and Periyar. The Indian constitution was in place and there were constitutional provisions to combat the evils of untouchability, and to facilitate the

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emancipation of the downtrodden masses. For him preferential treatment (vishesh sandhi) was a significant means in the empowerment of the deprived people - Shudras, Dalits and Adivasis (Lohia 1984). Lohia differed from Phule, Ambedkar and Periyar on another count. In his famous essay on Hinduism (Lohia 1950), he argued that Hinduism was caught between two qualitatively opposite forces of tradition – the liberal tradition of Valmiki parampara and the fanatical tradition of Vasishtha parampara. Instead of talking about the existence of clear-cut dichotomies of these two traditions, he maintained that when the liberal tradition had an upper hand over the fanatical tradition, restrictions of caste and those on women were less severe. He did not level a scathing and sweeping attack on Hinduism, like his predecessors. He did not talk about the complete eradication of Hinduism. His writings and research interests showed an understanding of Indian society and Hinduism which were strikingly different from the ideas mentioned earlier. 6

2.3 History and the anthropology of caste Inden and Dirks have questioned, as has been mentioned earlier, the essentialization of caste which has also among other things, rendered it devoid of history. This tendency is attributed to the hegemonic discourse produced by the colonizing West to justify their domination. For instance, let us recollect how in Hollow Crown (1987), Dirks argued that colonial rule created an impression that political forms and affiliations in pre-colonial India did not hold much ground, and that the crown in pre-colonial India was in fact hollow. This according to Dirks was not the case and the state forms were powerful components of Indian civilization. These colonial narratives about the hollowness of the Indian Crown justified colonial rule on the grounds that India was unable to rule herself. The proof of hollowness was, the princely states of the colonial period left intact by the British. They hardly held any power and were mere puppets in the hands of the British government. Thus, Britain sustained a myth that she had walked into a vacuum and had conquered India. This was justified through the ‘lack of history’ argument and caste was used to validate this assertion. This ahistorical construction of caste and Indian society, however, was not necessarily only a colonial feature. The dominant indigenous discourse represented mainly by the Brahmanical texts which defended caste and its exploitative character also viewed caste as a ‘natural phenomenon’ devoid of history.

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I do not wish to argue that the colonial rulers invented caste. But it is essential to bring historical analysis to the study of caste if one is to understand the hegemonic practice of its ideology. This should happen at two levels. At the level of the system we try to investigate how the caste system came to take its present form. The other level should be individual caste-communities. Historicizing these caste-communities is also a way towards the de‘essentialization’ of caste and towards exposing the ‘dehumanizing’ practice of it. The sociological thinking on caste continues to consider ‘an investigation into the social origins of caste to be a non-issue, prone to clumsy ethnologist type historical conjectures and not worthy of serious sociological study’ (Gupta 2000: 184). There are a few notable attempts at tracing the origins of the caste system. Ghurye (1994) attempted to explain the origins of the caste system. We have discussed earlier Ambedkar’s ([1946] 1970) historical interpretation of the caste system. Many Marxist historians have attempted to trace the historical origins of caste (Kosambi 1956; Habib 2002; Thapar 2003). Dipankar Gupta’s article in 1981 in the Economic and Political Weekly (and later included in his book Interrogating caste (2000)), is a sociological endeavor to look at the historical origins of caste. Uma Chakravarti’s essay on Brahmanical patriarchy (1993) traces the historical development of patriarchy, which she argues went in tandem with the development of caste hierarchy. Studies of individual/single castes, on the other hand, are not something of a rarity in sociology/anthropology. Several recent studies have either taken a historical approach or have contextualized their discussions in a historical setting (Dube 1998; Khare 2005; Knorringa 1999; Roy 1997; van der Veer 1985; Ganguly-Scrase 2001). A review of studies which deal with single castes demonstrates the rich possibilities they might offer.

Single caste studies The studies come mainly from two sources. The bulk of the studies (10 articles) reviewed, appeared in two leading Indian social science journals, namely, Contributions to Indian Sociology and Indian Economic and Social History Review between 1978 and 2001. The remaining studies are selected sections of comparatively larger works on caste (Gupta 2005). Broadly speaking, three major trends can be identified in these articles and extracts. Studies of non-Hindu communities and castes, which make a strong case for the need to examine caste in religious communities other than Hindus, are looked at separately. The other studies which

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include Hindu and non-Hindu communities are further divided into two categories – studies dealing with economic histories of the castes and studies dealing with sociological issues.

Non-Hindu religions and caste Non- Hindu religions and caste is a theme that has not received due attention in the caste debates. Syrian Christians (Fuller 2005), Jat Sikhs (Kaur 1986) and Muslims (Ahmed 2005), show the presence of caste structures within non–Hindu communities. Bayly has argued that most of the studies on caste are bound by Hinduism (Bayly 1999: 18). Scholars have failed to pay due attention to the castes and caste-like structures in religions other than Hinduism. These studies deal with this much neglected aspect.

Economic history Some of the studies have looked at the economic history of the castes. The economic history of castes especially in the context of capitalism has a sense of urgency to it. One of the recurring themes in this trend seems to be the linkages between caste and entrepreneurship. Therefore, one finds a considerable amount of literature on the traditional money-lending and trading castes. Marwaris are one of the extensively studied castes in the social sciences (Timberg 1977; Goswami 1985). The other trend in this field is that of studying changes in the economy of artisan castes in the context of the changing world economy (Ganguly- Scrase 2001; Knorringa 1999; Roy 1997).

Sociological issues The remaining studies deal with a range of sociological issues. These are the issues frequently debated in the sociological and anthropological literature on caste. Sanskritization or the struggle for upward social mobility of middle and low castes (Mukherjee 1994), gift giving and reciprocation among wife-givers and wife-takers (Hesse 1996), the ideal of Brahmanism: purity or asceticism? (van der Veer 1985), identity of a caste (Khare 2005, Kaur 1986), jajmani relations (Ganesh 1985) and orientalist construction of Indian communities (Mayaram 1991) are the issues that these studies have addressed. There are as many as three studies on the Jats of Punjab. While one looks at the identity formation of Jat Sikhs (Kaur 1986), another study by Prem Chowdhry (1981) looks at the socio-economic basis of the Jat domination in politics in a district of Punjab. Joyce Pettigrew (2005) looks at the economic dominance of Jats in a Punjab village. They can be

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separately grouped, as the Jat dominance in the state of Punjab is in varying degrees the focus of all these studies. Many of these studies have adopted a historical approach. They provide insights about various ways in which historical approach can be adopted for the study of caste. From here, we move, first into the field of history and then into anthropology to trace the theoretical and conceptual issues underlying an ethnography which adopts a historical approach.

Social history A neat definition has always evaded the field of social history. It can be broadly defined as the history of society. But it can be better understood as a movement across the social sciences to sensitize history with sociological inputs on the one hand and on the other to make sociological analysis more sensitive towards change. Social history emerged as a response to some challenges that were posed from within the discipline of history as well as from without. The Rankean model of history writing was perhaps the first identifiable challenge from within that called for a revamping of the discipline of history. The German historian Leopold von Ranke (1795-1886) was responsible for a revolution in method directed towards writing more objective or ‘scientific’ history. By the end of the nineteenth century there was growing unrest among historians towards the Rankean model and as a response emerged a ‘new kind of history’ (Burke 1980: 25-26). Another cause for change was the penetration of Marxism into the field of social history. The earlier Marxist history writing was more of a political tool for such people as Franz Mehring, Jean Jaures, Lenin and Trotsky and therefore it remained more or less aloof from the academic practices of history writing. But after the 1920s and 1930s there was a visible growth of Marxist influence on historians in universities and research institutes (Iggers 1984: 123-174). In Britain the counterpart of the Rankean model was called the Whig school. Unlike the rest of Europe where the Rankean model was challenged as early as the late nineteenth century, the influence of a more objective and scientific history writing espoused by the Whig school continued till the First World War. Two ‘distinguishable, though not always totally distinct’ traditions developed in the field of British social history. Both had their roots in the first half of the nineteenth century. These traditions developed as an ‘explanation for and response towards industrialization’ (ibid.: 155). One of the traditions came to the defense of

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capitalism and industrialization. The other one challenged the basic assumptions of this emerging capitalist orthodoxy. 7 Industrialization and the resulting widespread changes served as an impetus for the writing of a history which was socially oriented. The professionalization of history and the social sciences, political factors such as the thawing of the Cold War and dissociation from the Communist party of many British academicians were other factors which led to a more versatile field of social history after 1956 (ibid.: 156-157). For Hobsbawm, however, the most significant factor responsible for the emergence of social history, remained to be the ‘revolutions and struggles for political and economic emancipation of colonial and semi-colonial countries’ (Hobsbawm 1997a: 98).

E. P. Thompson and E. J. Hobsbawm Marxist theory provided the most effective conceptual tools to Thompson and Hobsbawm, both British historians, for the broad comprehension and explanation of society and social change. However, both were weary of the narrow and mechanistic interpretations provided by the so-called ‘vulgar-Marxist historians’ or the capitalist economic historians. A way out of the economic reductionism was through the social sciences, in terms of some general concepts to formulate questions and seek explanations of areas of past experiences hitherto neglected. They viewed the capitalist system as a dominant theme of the history of the last 450 years but as a force whose impact had been subject to variation and the intrusion of human agency (Iggers 1984: 165). Yet within these similarities they differed in terms of emphasis. Hobsbawm gave a more central role to economic factors and forces. They were more insistently present in his explanation of historical change. Thompson acknowledged the importance of these forces but they were not the focus of his attention. But even Hobsbawm at times, much like Thompson sought to rescue certain social groups and movements from the obscurity to which they were consigned. 8 The attempt was to give a meaningful account of the actions and ideas of people traditionally dismissed as absurd or irrational. These ideas of Thompson and Hobsbawm are very relevant to the present work. Thompson’s conception of class and class consciousness was perhaps the most ingenious contribution to the field of social history (Thompson 1963: 9-13). For him, ‘class’ was not a static phenomenon. He saw it as a relationship evolving over time from shared experiences. Thompson sketches the development of working class consciousness, firstly, by

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describing political, religious and social traditions inherited by the English working class. Their experiences in the early nineteenth century are then described. The conditions experienced by the English working class during industrialization stood in contrast with the age-old assumptions, about how society ought to function. From experience and realization of this contradiction emerged a consciousness, amongst the working class, which attacked both the material conditions and philosophical presumptions of industrial capitalism. The most significant contribution of Thompson is that he does not see this consciousness as a mechanistic creation of industrialization. He views the role of traditional thoughts in the shaping of the responses of the working class, not as determinants but as ingredients (Iggers 1984: 169). Thompson continued to concentrate on traditional attitudes and values of the ‘lower orders’ of eighteenth-century English society. In The moral economy of the English crowd in the eighteenth century (1971), he rejected the assumptions of the innate irrationality of the pre-industrial mob and of the mob’s significance solely as a tool of politicians and agitators. He also moved beyond the purely mechanistic analysis of the relationship of hunger and high food prices with crowd action. The action of the crowd was given a more meaningful quality by Thompson’s description of the crowd’s belief in the moral necessity of the economic system to operate to general advantage. Hobsbawm’s approach was closer to Thompson in Primitive rebels (1959) (Iggers 1984: 170-171) where he outlined the development of the tradition of ‘social banditry’. This involved the discussion of the responses of certain social groups to a sense of alienation from their political, social or economic situation. According to Hobsbawm they represented an interim stage of development prior to the emergence of a working class consciousness. Iggers (ibid.: 171-173) has pointed out that it is not easy for this kind of historiography to become a part of professional history writing for various reasons. Nomologically such studies are suspect because the people on whom such studies concentrate seem to defy historical trends. The nature of, and the motivation behind this defiance, cannot be reduced solely to the materialistic conditions which the nomological viewpoint requires. They can also be criticized from a hermeneutic tradition on the grounds of insufficient evidence, as there is no concrete way to observe the thought processes and actions of people in the past. It is through new conceptualizations that the sources used and their relation to explanations is

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justified. Since these sources are not what the historians have traditionally used this process of justifying the sources is sometimes regarded as unhistorical. Still, Iggers gave the verdict in favour of social history, negating the claims that new social history was a mere passing fashion and asserting that questions, approaches and debates that were a part of the field only pointed towards its relevance and also towards the fact that it was not a monopoly of the ideological left. Developments in the field during the last twenty years have proved him right.

Social history in India In the 1950s and 1960s there was a boom in the field of social history in Europe. Associated with it were increasing debates regarding the tools, methods and subjects of social history. In India, Sarkar (1985: 6) mentions two types of studies which made some mark. The first type includes studies such as Ravinder Kumar’s (1968) study of western India. It falls under the category of what Hobsbawm has called ‘the social as an adjunct of economic’ (Sarkar 1985:6). The other type mentioned by Sarkar (ibid.), developed a little later and focuses on popular unrests; Subaltern Studies is a case in point. It was only by the late seventies that social history as a distinct field started taking shape in India. E. P. Thompson’s Presidential address at the Indian History Congress in 1976 at Trivandrum provided a stimulus to ‘histories from below’ (Sarkar 1997: 50-51). At the end of the decade of the 1970s Subaltern Studies began its career. The first volume came out in 1982 and eleven Subaltern Studies volumes have appeared since then. Subaltern studies The founders of the Subaltern Studies first met at the end of the 1970s in England. The first volume came out in 1982. Initially the proposal was to launch a new journal. But the Oxford Press agreed to publish the volumes (Ludden 2001: 1). This was the beginning of the Subaltern Studies. The concept of ‘Subaltern’ brought in novel interpretations of the theories of class struggle given by Gramsci. 9 His ideas were not so influential until 1977 when they were popularized by Raymond Williams. By 1982 Gramsci’s ideas were in wide circulation (ibid.: 5). E. P. Thomson’s book The making of the English working class had appeared before that in 1963. Gramsci’s ideas, Thompson’s work and his address at the Indian Historical Congress in 1976 served as an inspiration for the Subaltern Studies.

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The critique of elitism in Indian historiography with which the Subaltern Studies project began was charted by Ranajit Guha (1982: 1-8) in the introduction to the first volume of Subaltern Studies. It was argued that the historiography of Indian nationalism has been dominated by elitism – colonialist elitism and bourgeois nationalist elitism. For both elitisms, the making of the Indian nation and nationalism were exclusively or predominantly elite achievements. Colonialist elitism claimed that the native elite was not driven by the general good of the nation, but by the expectation of rewards in the form of a share in the wealth, power and prestige created by and associated with colonial rule. Bourgeois nationalist elitism, on the other hand, viewed Indian nationalism as primarily an idealist venture in which the indigenous elite led the people from subjugation to freedom. It failed to recognize the efforts made by the people on their own, independent of the elite. Subaltern studies sought to retrieve the agency of the subaltern classes which was denied to them under both - colonialist and nationalist history writing. The first four volumes of Subaltern studies dealt extensively with the peasant, tribal and workers’ protests (Guha 1982, 1983a, 1984, 1985). Sarkar (1985: 9) considers Subaltern Studies a ‘major breakthrough’ due to its ‘focus on lower class initiatives, and its pioneering efforts to tackle problems of popular consciousness with the tools adapted from anthropology and structural linguistics’. But these concerns, in Subaltern Studies, declined over the years and by the time the eighth volume was out Sarkar could comment about ‘the decline of the Subaltern in Subaltern Studies’ (Sarkar 1997: 82-108). Subaltern Studies also failed to take into account the ‘role of caste and other traditional ideologies in the peasants’ consciousness and their significance negative or positive, for peasant mobilisation’ (Mukherjee 1988b: 2179). Later caste as an analytical category entered the discussion only occasionally. In the sixth volume Partha Chatterjee (1989) discusses the relation between caste and subaltern consciousness. In the seventh volume Saurabh Dube (1993) presents the historical narrative of an ‘untouchable’ community and Amitav Ghosh (1993) brings in caste in his discussion of an Indian slave sold to a trader from the Middle-East. Later, in the ninth volume, Kancha Ilaiah (1996) discusses the Dalitbahujan alternative for the rewriting of history and in the tenth Vijay Prashad (1999) discusses issues related to Dalit politics. The final volume we can say marks a shift as it is dedicated to the topic of ‘Muslims, Dalits and the fabrications of history’ (Mayaram et al. 2005).

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Sarkar (1985: 6-8) points out a number of lacunae in the field of social history in India - lack of fruitful dialogue between social sciences and history, exclusion of caste from the analysis and explaining social movements in terms of ‘economic reductionism’ or as mobilizations ‘by great leaders/ideologies or skilful manipulators of patron-client linkages’ (ibid.: 8). Another distinct tradition of history writing rooted in the caste debates thrives in Maharashtra. A brief review of it would be relevant over here. Non-Brahmans and history Omvedt (1976: 59-64) has argued that history-writing in Maharashtra arose in ‘response to and in the context of a continuing non-Brahman challenge’. This fact has remained obscure because Brahman history writers monopolized history writing in Maharashtra. The issues which remained significant were - whether Shivaji was a Shudra king and protector of peasants or whether he was a vanguard of Hinduism and protector of Brahmans and cows, the Varkari cult and whether Marathas were Kshatriyas or Shudras. As Omvedt (ibid.) puts it, the major history traditions in Maharashtra developed in response to the non-Brahman challenge. But the non-Brahmans themselves failed to become a part of the institutionalized historical tradition. The important historical institutes like Bharat Itihas Sanshodhak Mandal, Peshwa Daftar, the History of the Freedom Movement Archives and the Gokhale Institute of Politics and Economics were Brahman dominated. The notable non-Brahman writers were without a firm academic basis and wrote independent of any institutional or academic affiliations. Ambedkar, Dhanajay Keer (author of books on Phule and Ambedkar), V. M. Pavar and V. B. Kolte were men who did not become a part of the mainstream of history writing tradition in Maharashtra. The Last few decades have witnessed a shift in Marathi history writing with emergence of a strand which identifies itself as the non-Brahman (abrahmani) history tradition. Sharad Patil’s two volumes of Das Shudra Slavery (Patil S. 1982, 1990), is a history of the caste system. His is an attempt to integrate Marxism and the philosophy of Ambedkar and Phule. In a sense it is a continuation of the earlier concerns of history writing among nonBrahmans. Salunkhe’s (1995) writings have also exemplified a perspective where the history of the emergence and development of the hegemony of caste is the focus of the history writing.

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Historicizing the social sciences For the discipline of history, around the mid-nineteenth century, the ‘social’ had become a matter of ridicule. This was the time when Ranke was advocating ‘scientific’ history. Although, Comte, Spencer and Durkheim criticized historians and their work for being concerned with unworthy details, for Durkheim, history remained important because the knowledge of the past was important for sociological understanding. The same was true for Weber whose historical knowledge was phenomenal in depth and breadth. Durkheim and Weber were not alone. Tonnies, James Frazer and Franz Boas did not give up their grounding in history (Burke 1980: 18-20). However, around the 1920s, sociologists and more specifically anthropologists gave up this link with the past. Malinowski proclaimed the importance of ‘fieldwork’ and it was declared as the anthropological method ‘par excellence’ (ibid.: 21). Sociologists too began to take more and more of their data from contemporary society (Durkheim’s Suicide (1897) and the Chicago school). This happened due to a number of reasons. One practical reason, which Burke identifies, is that historians had not made facts available for the social scientists. Moreover, sociology as a discipline had become more professionalized and reliance on alien data declined. The most important factor however was the intellectual development of functionalism, which was divorced from history. Durkheim had combined functionalism with history but Malinowski dropped history altogether declaring it ‘dead and buried’ (ibid.). When Radcliffe-Brown was formulating his theory of structural functionalism, the historical approach within anthropology was represented by two main branches – ‘evolutionism’ and ‘diffusionism’. Evolutionists and diffusionists were dominant in American Universities (Lewis 1968: xii-xv). But, in England, there was a reaction against these trends and their methods. Radcliffe-Brown disapproved of the writings of evolutionists and diffusionists and considered these to be conjectural history. He further asserted the relative irrelevance of the past. He was justified in doing so to the extent that many of the anthropologists who took an evolutionary approach came to be accused later of doing ‘armchair anthropology’. Ironically, sociologists lost interest in history just at the time when historians had started developing an interest in sociology. A sizeable corpus under the name of social history had emerged by the 1950s and it was only in the 1960s that sociology and history began to

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converge again. In the 1950s American sociologists started a committee for ‘the sociological study of historical documents’. Talcott Parsons also became interested in the same and two of the best known monographs on history written by Americans were produced under his supervision. 10 This trickle of the 1950s soon turned into a stream by the 1970s. Burke has given a list of historical studies by sociologists such as Lipset, Charles Tilly, Barrington Moore and Immanuel Wallerstein and of anthropologists such as Eric Wolf and Anton Blok. This shift was forced by a few factors. The accelerating social change forced the attention of sociologists. I have mentioned in the previous section that the struggles and movements for social transformation contributed to the development of ‘social history’. Working on the functionalist approach revealed its deficiencies, such as the danger of studying social life from outside without taking into account the intentions of the ‘actors’. It is in this sense that phenomenologists/symbolic interactionists are much closer to the historians than the functionalists as the former have never ceased trying to look at the past through the eyes of contemporaries (Burke 1980). Even so, Connell has argued, in response to the Althusserian social reproductionist theory, in Gender and power, that history entered theory in sociology or social anthropology as something ‘added on’ (Connell 1987: 44). He stresses the need to make history more organic to social theory. This description is particularly true for sociology and social anthropology as practiced till around 1980. Since 1980 or just prior to it, the age-old debates of ‘subjective’ versus ‘objective’ and ‘structure’ versus ‘human agency’ resurfaced. Both history and the social sciences have struggled for a convincing resolution of these dualities, which has never been easy. When history turned towards sociology it was to take note of the structural factors that have had a decisive impact on the course of history. Till then they had neglected these. For sociology and anthropology, the historical approach was to serve as an analytical tool to dislodge the overwhelming presence of structures and to make allowance for human action. Rather than merely adding time as an additional factor history was now being integrated as a concept. Sumit Sarkar, in his presidential address at the Indian History Congress (1985), cites two ideal examples of convergence between both disciplines. In history it is E. P. Thompson’s Poverty of theory and in sociology it is Pierre Bourdieu’s Outline of a theory of practice. The conclusions arrived at by both the works independent of each other in different styles and different intellectual traditions convey the rich possibilities of the confluence.

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Pierre Bourdieu, Jean Comaroff and R. W. Connell We have seen Thompson’s The making of English working class. Let us take a look at Bourdieu’s Outline of a theory of practice (1997), where he identifies the strategies that individual agents employ to play out the structures, by adding temporality to them. According to Bourdieu the objective accounts which the anthropologist derives from the culture s/he studies are a mere abstraction and do not at all refer to the actual ‘practice’ of the actors. In fact he calls this account given by the anthropologist ‘imaginary’ (ibid: 29). The ‘rules’ or ‘laws’ which the anthropologist derives are a result of her/his interaction with the informant who has to bring to the anthropologist ‘for the purpose of transmission, the unconscious schemes of his practice.’ (ibid.: 18). Through the case study of marriages 11 Bourdieu demonstrates the strategies that actors employ [‘players’ skill’ (ibid.)] to fulfill their political, economic and symbolic interests. Referring to his fieldwork data on parallel cousin marriage among Kabyle in Algeria, he uses such concepts as ‘practical kin’ and ‘official kin’ (ibid.: 33-38), ‘officializing strategies’ (ibid.: 38-43), ‘ordinary’ and ‘extraordinary’ (ibid.: 52-58) marriages and shows how actors employ strategies which do not figure anywhere on the genealogical maps that are drawn by the anthropologists. There are also some ‘second-order strategies’ which are used to disguise the ‘first-order strategies’; these are nothing else but lies, ‘socially devised and encouraged’ (ibid.: 43). Bourdieu calls them ‘white lies’. For instance, the parallel cousin marriage is the ideal mentioned in the native accounts but in reality a father of the son may take a bride from his own sister or encourage his wife to take a bride from her own lineage ‘without being seen to do so’, thus not entering into a parallel cousin marriage, and thereby undermining the ‘hold of a brother who is already dominant’ (ibid.: 45-46). Yet, Bourdieu talks about matrimonial strategies whereby ‘every marriage tends to reproduce the conditions which have made it possible’ (ibid.: 70). [M]atrimonial strategies, objectively directed towards the conservation or expansion of the material and symbolic capital jointly possessed by a more or less extended group, belong to the system of reproduction strategies, defined as the sum total of the strategies through which individuals or groups objectively tend to reproduce the relation of production associated with a determinate mode of production by striving to reproduce or improve their position in the social structure’ [emphasis added] (ibid.).

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Even though Bourdieu introduces human agency by describing the strategies – individual and collective - and by discarding the ‘pure…realm of “rules of marriage” and the “elementary structures of kinship”’ (ibid.: 70), he does not really bring in ‘history’, where the possibilities that human agency may offer are infinite and unpredictable. For Bourdieu, it is habitus which is the product and also producer of history (ibid.: 82). It ‘produces individual and collective practices, and hence history, in accordance with schemes engendered by history’. Habitus is ‘systems of durable, transposable dispositions’ (ibid.: 72). Disposition is the internalization of objective structures in actors. Habitus is ‘laid down in each agent by his (actor’s) earliest upbringing’ (ibid.: 81). In this sense then the habitus is – a past which survives in the present and tends to perpetuate itself into the future by making itself present in practices structured according to its principles, an internal law relaying the continuous exercise of the law of external necessities (irreducible to immediate conjunctural constraints) (ibid.: 82).

Yet, although habitus tends to reproduce its constitutive structures it does not always necessarily do so. For instance, the discontinuity between two generations is explained by Bourdieu with the use of a concept called ‘hysteresis effect’ (ibid.: 78). Two generations have different ‘modes of generation’ of habitus. Thus the habitus of one generation is not fitted in the environment of another which is too distant for it. This explains the conflicts between two generations (ibid.). He however refuses to bestow ‘free and willful power’ or ‘conscious and deliberate intentions’ on the actors (ibid.: 73). Habitus is thus on the one hand ‘the principle of continuity and regularity which objectivism discerns in the social world without being able to give them a rational basis’ and on the other hand ‘the principle of the transformation and regulated revolution which neither the extrinsic and instantaneous determinism of a mechanistic sociologism nor the purely internal but equally punctual determination of voluntarist or spontaneist subjectivism are capable of accounting for’ (ibid.: 82). Comarroff argues that in Bourdieu’s formulation the role of consciousness is ‘almost totally eclipsed’ (Comaroff 1985: 5). ‘In his effort to correct what he perceives to be a subjectivist bias in prevailing views of human practice, Bourdieu goes so far in the other direction that his actors seem doomed to reproduce their world mindlessly, without its contradictions leaving any mark on their awareness – at least, until a crisis (in the form of “culture contact” or the emergence of class division) initiates a process of overt struggle’ (ibid.).

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Similarly, Connell has also pointed out succinctly in a rather fancy expression that Bourdieu’s theory is in fact a theory where ‘the dance of practice…is a dance macabre, in which the ghostly emissaries of the structures perform their semi-scripted revels, and at the end of each cycle of practice sink back into their graves, i.e. their places in the structures. Time is of the essence, in the steps of the dance; but at the level of the whole, history is frozen’ (Connell 2004: 11).

Structure, agency and history The question therefore is not whether the individual has agency or not. The debate is more over the nature and extent of agency or free will that individual actors possess. While Bourdieu has it that an individual actor acts in given situation through his/her habitus, Comaroff and Connell would like to accord more freedom to the actors. He does acknowledge deviation from the earlier structures, but the deviation is assumed to be minimal or else is explained in terms of some crisis (Comaroff 1985: 5). Connell argues that a theory of practice should focus ‘on what people do by way of constituting the social relations they live in. In principle, voluntarism can be overcome by an attention to the structure of social relations as a condition of all practices’ (Connell: 62). For him historicity is the ‘sense that things can never be the same again, that new possibilities have opened and old patterns closed off…the concept of historicity is stronger than the concept of ‘social change’, which may be mechanical and eternal, something that happens to people, like a comet, a fire or a plague. The idea of historicity is about change produced by human practice, about people being inside the process’ (ibid.: 144-145). For Connell structure must be seen as ‘constituted’ and not as ‘reproduced’. This means accepting a possibility that structures would be constituted differently. ‘Groups that hold power do try to reproduce the structure that gives them their privilege. But it is always an open question whether, and how they will succeed’ (ibid.: 44). An attempt to integrate history and anthropology has been made by Comaroff in her work Body of power, spirit of resistance (1985). Central to her thesis is the question of ‘motivation’ of a historical process involving the ‘system’ of ‘Tshidi’ of South Africa and the First world. The two levels at which she conceptualizes the ‘historical motivation’ of the dialectics between the two are – ‘the determining force of sociocultural structures’ and ‘transformative practice of human actors’ (Comaroff 1985: 4). She also argues that the

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‘principled interconnection’ between these two levels is ‘an important problem for modern social analysis’. The issue is about how social practice is conceptualized. She herself deviates from the Marxist understanding of consciousness where consciousness mediates all social action. She also deviates from a contrasting understanding of consciousness where it is seen as ‘embedded in the practical constitution of everyday life’ by thinkers such as Althusser, Bourdieu and Foucault (ibid.: 5). Comaroff attempts to rethink the relationship between ideology as explicit discourse and as lived experience by exploring the interplay of subject and object as it occurs in the course of ‘signifying practice’ (ibid.: 6). As the discussion till now shows, history has become a key issue within social and cultural anthropology, but Donham (2001) rightly ascertains that, the disciplines are yet to develop the resources that are required to deal with temporality. Through an extended examination of Jean and John Comaroff’s multi-volumed work, Of revelation and revolution (1997), he points out that Comaroffs’ historical analysis of Christianity and colonialism in southern Africa homogenizes the missionary and ‘Tswana’ cultures. The Comaroffs attribute agency to abstractions rather than to people acting in particular material contexts. He argues for a ‘narrative approach’ in place of these abstract historical anthropological explanations. Life-history is an example of a narrative approach, where the historical transformations are traced through a person’s life and in her/his own voice. An overview of the debates concerned with bringing in the ‘social’ in history and the ‘historical’ in sociology/anthropology shows that the contributions of historians offer many insights. These insights enrich our understanding of the existing reality and show new directions for further research. But, as Donham argues, sociology and anthropology with their strong emphasis on the empirical are still short of resources required to deal with temporality. As a result, Bourdieu’s Outline of theory of practice, Comaroffs’ ‘historical imagination’ and Donham’s ‘narrative approach’ seem to be providing some of the tools with which one has to begin. With this we come to a general understanding that is best summarized by Philip Abrams in his book Historical sociology. Historical sociology is not then, a matter of imposing grand schemes of evolutionary development on the relationship of the past to the present, nor is it merely a matter of recognizing the historical background to the present. It is the attempt to understand the relationship of personal activity and experience on the one hand and social organization on the other as something that is continuously constructed on time. It makes the continuous process of construction the focal concern of social analysis. The process might be studied in many different contexts: in personal biographies and careers;

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in the rise and fall of whole civilisations; in the setting of particular events such as a revolutions or an election, or of particular developments such as the making of the welfare state or the formation of the working class (Abrams 1981: 16).

2.4 ‘Peasant’ Throughout the thesis the Agaris are primarily referred to as a ‘caste’. However, they are also alternately referred to as ‘peasants’. ‘Peasant’ as a concept is a part of a relatively autonomous sub-field in sociology. Even within the subfield of peasant studies it has been used in varied manners often leading to ambiguity and confusion. Here, I define this concept for my purpose.

Defining ‘peasant’ A minimal definition of peasant sees them as rural cultivators. But almost all those who deal with the term see much more than a rural cultivator in it. ‘Peasants, alternatively (1) own or control the land they cultivate, and/or (2) are socially subordinate to a rural dominant class, and/or (3) are typified by distinctive cultural community practices’ (Kurtz 2000: 94). These three dimensions have been used in varying combinations by the different schools who have studied peasant societies. 12 The emphasis of each of these schools has been on different aspects of the peasant society. For my convenience I draw upon three selected themes, that have informed my analysis, from the literature on peasant societies rather than adhering to any particular school. Making sense of much of the data collected during the fieldwork among Agaris became easier in the light of these rich insights brought home by various works on peasant societies across these different schools. Marx considered peasants to be lacking in any revolutionary potential and thought revolution would come from the leadership of the working class in an industrial setting (Harding 1982: 99). However, with the Chinese revolution, in which peasants came to play a central role, their revolutionary potential was realized. 13 ‘Moral economy’ a term first used by Thompson (1963) in the Making of the English working class, was applied by Scott (1976) to the southeast Asian peasantry. He underlined the revolutionary character of the peasantry. Scott’s work was also different from other peasant studies because it sought to explain the peasant rebellions not only on the basis of objective definitions of exploitation. Instead his focus remained on the perceptions of the peasant about his/her exploitation.

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However, in Moral economy of the peasant (1976) Scott’s underlying assumption is that of a homogenous peasantry. There is hardly any reference to the internal differentiation. On the other hand, we have Lenin’s division of peasantry into rich, middle and poor peasantry which has also been a popular theme. Each of these divisions is accorded the status of a class. Thorner (1976) and Dhanagare (1983) have identified similar classes among Indian peasantry. I have discussed in Chapter Four various debates regarding the division of peasantry in Maharashtra. Either to homogenize the peasantry or to divide it into distinct classes seems simplistic in view of the empirical data, which is often too complicated to fit into a single model. Eric Wolf in the foreword to his work Peasant wars of the twentieth century (1969) argues that an anthropologist can offer some significant insights to the field of peasant studies, which is dominated by economists, sociologists and political scientists. It is the understanding gained through fieldwork that the peasantry is differentiated and that ‘such differentials have an important bearing on the genesis and course of [peasants’] revolutionary movement’ (Wolf [1969]1999: xix). Whether these differentials constitute classes or not should remain an open question depending upon the individual field situations. According to Charlesworth (1985: 268-271) Wolf along with Alavi introduced the ‘middle peasant as the potentially radical force within the countryside’. S/he is ‘part owner, part-tenant and part-labourer: the peasant who owned some land…but needed either to rent further land or to work for cash wages to supplement family income’. For the Bombay countryside Charlesworth does not stick to any single model of rich, middle or poor peasantry. Rather, he finds all three categories operating as militant in different contexts. The peasants of the Konkan (specifically the peasants of Kolaba) for him represent a ‘poor peasant politics’. The need to pay heed to the complexity of empirical reality is especially true in the case of India. Béteille (1974: 40-57) points out that in sociology the practice has been to divide Indian society into urban and rural. The rural sector is further divided into tribal and non-tribal. The non-tribal villages are equated with the peasant sector of Indian society. Béteille argues that the peasant society in India is highly complex and stratified with an elaborate agrarian structure and caste hierarchy which these blanket terms hide. On the other hand many of the so-called tribal societies are in fact peasant societies. Within the non-tribal sections Béteille shows how caste, gender and internal differentiation within the cultivating castes also render the situation complex. For instance, in the Sripuram village, it was the Brahmans who owned the land but could not be called peasants as they never tilled it. The castes who tilled the land – Vellalas, Kallalas and Padayachis- were basically tenants.

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Furthermore they were helped in the physical work by the Paraiya and Palla landless labourers (ibid.: 49-51). In several of the so-called peasant castes there are households which do not at all till the land although their landholdings are moderate in size. This is because ploughing and manual work have notions of purity and pollution attached to them. This means that men’s going to work is an indicator of lowly social status. This decline in status is even sharper if women also go out to work. That this is a typical Indian feature becomes evident when he contrasts it with the Chinese scene (ibid.: 54).

2.5 Conclusion In this chapter, three significant points were made. Firstly, through a critical inquiry of the sociological debates on caste I have shown that a theorization of the ‘dehumanizing’ character of caste ideology is missing in received sociological writings though they bring some ingenious insights to the inquiry of caste. This has happened because they have failed to take into account the indigenous critique which has emerged from Indigenous scholars and political ideologues (Ambedkar, Phule, Lohia etc.), from an awareness and experience of this ‘dehumanizing’ capacity of the Brahmanical ideology. Secondly, I have shown how the possibilities created by a historically nuanced inquiry are significant for a study which seeks to ‘rescue’, to use Thompson’s phrase, a community from the ‘enormous condescension of posterity’ (Thompson 1963: 12). Thompson, Hobsbawm and Subaltern Studies are cases in point. Yet for an anthropological inquiry which is ethnographic in nature, the handiest tools to approach social reality are provided in the ideas of Bourdieu (habitus, practice), Comaroff (consciousness), Connell (reconstitution), Abrams and Donham (narrative). Thirdly, the concept of ‘peasant’ allows me to look more effectively into the material aspects of the process of marginalization of a caste community. The consciousness of the subjugation of the Agari community, may be expressed in terms of ‘backwardness’ but the material aspects (economic, social, political) of it are rooted in the everyday of lives of the community, which is a peasant community. In the next chapter which is about the ‘fieldwork’ and ‘methodology’, I elaborate on the methodology of doing a historically nuanced ethnography.

Chapter Two

1

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Dumont adopts Bouglé’s definition to define caste although he uses different terms for the three principles –

separation, division and hierarchy (Dumont 1998: 21). 2

In Maharashtra, in a well documented historical event King Shivaji was denied coronation by the Brahmans on

the grounds that he was not a Kshatriya. This was when Shivaji had assumed considerable and recognizable power in the Deccan through concerted efforts. When the Brahmans of Maharashtra refused to perform the ceremony, Shivaji paid a huge sum to bring Gagabhatta, the famous Brahman from Benaras. He performed the rituals for the coronation ceremony. That was however, not the end of the story. Gagabhatta on his return had to undergo an act of purification for the coronation of a Shudra (Omvedt 1976: 57; Ambedkar [1946] 1970: 201213). 3

Similarly, King Shahu (1874-1922), a successor of the Marathas and king of Kolhapur Presidency became

furious when he came to know that for all these years the royal Brahman priests had been performing puranokta and not the vedokta rituals (puranokta rituals are the rites and chants given in the puranas, the texts mainly associated with the non-Brahman traditions. Vedokta rituals are the rites and chants given in Vedas. Traditionally only the twice-born castes have had the right to vedokta rituals). The Brahmans of Maharashtra argued that Shahu was not a Kshatriya. Thus followed a controversy that divided the Maharashtrian elite into two camps, one consisted of Brahmans and the other one of non-Brahmans. The Brahmans declined any possibility of Shahu being subject to vedokta rituals. Shahu claimed a Kshatriya status and insisted on vedokta rituals. The Brahman who did perform the rituals was declared an outcaste by his community (Omvedt 1976: 126). 4

The private sphere has to do primarily with family, kinship group, peer group and other close circles of

relations. Public sphere has to do with larger political, civil and societal relations. 5

A lowly peasant caste. It is also used as a generic term for peasants.

6

This was perhaps a result of the influence of Gandhi, who called himself a sanatan hindu and even supported

varnashramdharma. Gandhi stands out for upholding of the caste system and Hindu religion. He was also criticized for the statements he made at different places and at different times as they were full of contradictions and ambiguity. It was inferred from this and from his opposition to separate electorates for Dalits that he was against equal rights for Dalits. But such criticisms of Gandhi do not do justice to him. The contradictions and ambiguities of Gandhi’s thought, Pandit (1983: 188-205) argues, were because his thoughts had undergone a slow yet consistent change over the years. He initially did not favour inter-caste marriage but over the years he became an advocate of inter-caste marriages. His interpretations of varnasharamdharma and Hinduism are different from the popular interpretations and have invited severe criticism. For him varnashramdharma was a kind of division of labour. In his response to Ambedkar’s ‘Annihilation of caste’, published in his monthly publication called Harijan, Gandhi argued that the occupations followed by a Brahman and a Bhangi were of equal importance and status. In his conceptualization of varnashramdharma there was no place for untouchability and inequality of rank and status (Gandhi [1936] 1986: 108-114). 7

See Hobsbawm (1997b) for a detailed analysis of the influence of Marxist theory on the field of social history.

8

Thompson in his preface to The making of English working class states – ‘I am seeking to rescue the poor

stockinger, the Luddite cropper, the “obsolete” hand-loom weaver, the “utopian” artisan, and even the deluded follower of Joanna Southcott from the enormous condescension of posterity’ [emphasis added] (Thompson 1963: 12).

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In the Prison Notebooks, Gramsci (1996: 52-55) discusses the concept of subaltern groups and their history.

‘The subaltern classes by definition are not unified and cannot unite until they are able to become a state: their history therefore is intertwined with that of the civil society, and thereby with the history of States.’ For him the subaltern history is the process by which subaltern groups develop their consciousness and become the state. Therefore it is the history of struggles and resistances. Further he adds, ‘The history of subaltern social groups is necessarily fragmented and episodic.’ This is so because there is a ‘tendency to… unification in the historical activity of these groups, but this tendency is interrupted by the activity of the ruling groups.’ So the historical cycle has to be completed and has to result into success if it has to be demonstrated. He argues that only ‘permanent victory ends their subordination’. That also does not happen immediately because ‘even when they appear triumphant, the subaltern groups are merely anxious to defend themselves’. And thus ‘every trace of independent initiative on the part of the subaltern groups should be of incalculable value for the integral historian. Consequently, this kind of history can only be dealt with monographically, and each monograph requires an immense quantity of material which is often hard to collect’. 10

Robert Bellah’s Tokugawa religion published in 1957 and Neil Smelser’s Social change in the industrial

revolution published in 1959 (Burke 1980: 28). 11

On one occasion he refers to it as the ‘matrimonial game’ (Bourdieu 1997: 58) thus indicating the strategizing

of actors involved in it. 12

Kurtz (2000) has identified five distinct schools - moral economists, Marxists, anthropologists, Weberians and

minimalists – from literature on peasant societies. 13

Wolf’s ([1969] (1999)) six case studies of peasant wars of the twentieth century from different countries

(Mexico, China, Vietnam, Russia, Algeria and Cuba) was a result of the growing realization of peasants’ revolutionary potential.

Chapter Three Fieldwork 3.1 Introduction Having charted out the various trajectories of the field of caste studies and explored the possibilities and the theoretical premises of a historically sensitive anthropological inquiry in the earlier chapter, here in this chapter, I describe the methodological framework of this study. In section 3.2, I discuss two issues which have altered the character of contemporary ethnography in a significant way, and which are of immediate relevance to this work. Firstly, I discuss the methodological questions of historicizing an anthropological investigation (I have discussed the theoretical issues in Chapter Two). Secondly, I discuss the epistemological issues involved in studying one’s own society. Thereafter, overall information about the fieldwork, including the research plan is offered. Sections 3.3 (Site selection), 3.4 (Rapport), and 3.5 (Documentation) describe the experiences, techniques and other details of the fieldwork, which are followed by the Conclusion.

3.2 Some theoretical issues Ethnography is not just a method of data collection but also a theoretical orientation and a philosophical paradigm (Tedlock 2000: 455; Jessor et al. 1996: 5-6). From the earlier crude

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forms of data collection by travelers, missionaries and others who brought stories from alien lands, ethnography has come a long way. As late as the end of nineteenth century, anthropology was dominated by ‘armchair anthropologists’. It was with Franz Boas and his contemporaries that the tradition of a systematic and firsthand investigation came into vogue and became mandatory. Malinowski established it as the hallmark of anthropology when he insisted that the native’s point of view was the most important one. Since Malinowski’s times also anthropology has had a long journey and ethnography has come to be understood in complex ways. Yet a very basic definition of ethnography would be timely to enter into the discussion. Vidich and Lyman (2000: 40) derive a definition of ethnography, from Peacock’s understanding, as ‘a social scientific description of a people and the cultural basis of their people-hood’. A more versatile definition is given by Tedlock (2000: 455) where she states that ‘ethnography involves an ongoing attempt to place specific encounters, events and understanding into fuller, more meaningful context. It is not simply the production of new information or research data, but rather the way in which such information or data are transformed into a written or visual form. As a result it combines research design, fieldwork and various methods of inquiry to produce historically, politically and personally situated accounts, descriptions, interpretation and representation of human lives.’ It is in this sense that ethnography is not just a method of data collection but more so a theoretical orientation and philosophical paradigm. Since the establishment of ethnography during the 1920s as the anthropological method par excellence, critique and reflexivity have become an integral part of the ethnographic explorations over the years. These transformations of ethnography have been a result of challenges that came to anthropology from various quarters. Here, I discuss two such issues which have questioned the established practices of ethnography, and which are also relevant to the present work.

History and anthropology With the intention to historicize the anthropological investigation of a caste-community one is faced with a practical question - how does one bring in history into an ethnographic inquiry? This question arises because anthropology is ‘yet to develop the resources that are required to deal with temporality’ (Donham 2001: 134). Historicizing anthropology requires a methodology distinct from the conventional ethnographic inquiry. First and foremost, it requires a theoretical orientation, a paradigm firmly located within the debate of subjectivity

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versus objectivity. The methodology and tools that one employs would have to be tuned to this theoretical orientation. To introduce the concept of ‘history’ into an ethnographic investigation means a shift in the approach at two levels. On one level, it means situating the ethnographic facts within their historical contexts (this is what I do in Chapters Four and Five). At the other level, it means looking at the individuals, their practices and their interactions with the structures where they may reproduce, reemphasize or reconstitute, bypass, overrule, defy, modify and even change the structures. The human ‘agency’ is much at the centre in such an inquiry, not only of those who are rendered powerless but also of those who are rendered powerful (Chapters Six, Seven and Eight follow this path). The recent studies in their own different ways emphasize increasingly the transformative capabilities of the actors. Bourdieu (1997) draws constant attention to the minutiae of the ‘practice’ of actors and warns against the fallacy of anthropological search for ‘rules’ or ‘laws’, those representations given to the anthropologist by the informants. Though this has significant influence on anthropological studies, his analysis is limited because it only reluctantly acknowledges the transformative powers of an actor, the point to which Connell (1987) and Comaroff (1985) draw our attention. While Bourdieu’s is the guiding principle in Chapters Six, Seven & Eight, the understanding of Connell and Comaroff is important in order to address the issues related to the transformation.

Politics of representation and the native anthropologist An ethnographic study of a community by a person who is born in it is not new to anthropology, yet it is also not a common phenomenon in the discipline. During the last two decades anthropology has witnessed a growing number of studies of this type which have been categorized as ‘native anthropology’ or ‘auto-ethnography’. This new trend somehow does not fit well into the unspecified division of labour between sociology and anthropology. Sociology and anthropology have their origins in the western society and traditionally the demarcation between the two disciplines has been on the basis of the fact that sociology confined itself to the study of ‘its own society’ which is the western society. Anthropology, on the other hand, is known for its preoccupation with non-western-societies – the ‘other’ (Ohnuki-Tierney 1984: 584). This division of labour was never explicitly stated, but even today anthropology has not been able to shed its colonial hangover completely, as studying

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non-western societies still remains its prerogative. An underlying assumption in it was perhaps that the ‘other’ was incapable of studying itself. But it is also believed that studying one’s own society brings in a particular bias which is not there when a non-native studies the same (Ranco 2006: 61). Srinivas’s work published in the 1940s and 1950s attracted some peculiar reactions from his non-Indian colleagues. Srinivas recalls being struck by the ‘repeated reference made to his being an Indian sociologist engaged in the study of’ his ‘own society’’. The responses were varied. Radcliffe-Brown pointed out the advantage that Srinivas had because of his being an Indian. For Leach, however, the emulation of Brahmans by the lower castes was rather odd. Therefore, he questioned Srinivas’s ability to study his own society objectively and wondered whether the interpretation exhibited a ‘Brahminocentric’ point of view in his concept of ‘sanskritization’ (Srinivas 1995: 155-56). T. N. Madan (1965) studied Kashmiri Pandits but somehow remained silent about the issues that come up while studying one’s own community. He referred to himself as a Kashmiri and discussed the advantages and disadvantages that are associated with being an insider, i.e. a Kashmiri. His knowing the language made things easier for him, but his being treated as an insider – ‘a Kashmiri’ or ‘a Kashmiri more experienced than them in some ways’ - did not allow him to talk with the members on some intimate matters such as sex and wealth (Madan 1965: 11). His interaction with women between the age group of 18 and 50 remained limited. He was left with little leisure time due to the social visits that his informants made on him. He longed for free time which he needed for the analysis of data that he was collecting. But nowhere does he explicitly state his caste identity although one does get a feeling from the description, and it is from a fleeting reference made in the last line of the foreword written by J. A. Barnes to the book that one knows that Madan is a Kashmiri Pandit. Barnes writes ‘Dr. Madan is a Kashmiri himself and as a social scientist has had to stand back from his own culture in order to look at it in the light of anthropology and sociology. I am sure that the reader will agree that he has succeeded in this difficult analytical feat and I am glad that this university has been associated with it. Dr. Madan has proved himself a true pandit’ (Madan 1965: ix-x). It appears from both the foreword and Madan’s writings that being a Kashmiri is equal to being a Kashmiri Pandit and thus there is no need to specify the complexities that the researcher’s Kashmiri Pandit identity would entail. Or perhaps there was some uneasiness about studying one’s own community which was not an established practice.

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The issue of representation and the politics behind it was raised by Said (1995). The argument was that the Orient was grossly misrepresented by the Occident. This misrepresentation, it was argued, was an integral part of the colonizing drive. It was in fact a requirement of the Occident to justify its rule over the Orient. In the following decade, i.e. in the 1980s, Clifford and Marcus (1986) furthered this argument of misrepresentation more forcefully within the discipline of anthropology - the central question being who will represent whom? If all representations of others were misrepresentations then the logical outcome of such a debate would be that only self could represent self. This leads us into murky grounds of extreme relativity, and we may question it; but it is equally ridiculous to insist that self cannot study self and to question the viability of studying one’s own society. There is definitely some advantage in having the so-called ‘natives’ study their own societies/cultures. And, in fact, this trend is growing. It is not surprising, as Jacobs-Huey (2002: 792) mentions, that during the last three decades, the ‘so-called native/others have been duly observed gazing and talking back as researchers, students and lay critics of academic presentations and published scholarship.’ But it is also true that those who venture in this terrain of native anthropology do not have it easy even though they are in their ‘home terrain’. There are certain privileges attached to doing anthropology in one’s own society, but that does not mean the researcher instantly gains acceptance as an insider and that he/she does not have to ‘negotiate identity and legitimacy’ (ibid.). The issue of negotiating one’s identity and legitimacy within the community studied is dealt with at length by Kirin Narayan in her essay ‘How native is a “native” anthropologist?’ (1993). She questions the term ‘native’ used to refer to an anthropologist who is studying his/her own society and the underlying assumption of a ready acceptance and increased authenticity. I agree with her when she argues that the native anthropologist does have to deal with similar issues that a non-native anthropologist has to deal. The identity of every anthropologist, native or otherwise, is multifaceted and therefore he or she is always an outsider in some sense. The outsider-ness may be more pronounced in some situations but a complete insider status is an impossibility. Therefore, it is not in any sense a cakewalk as far as acceptance and rapport building is concerned. Ironically, the native anthropologist has to justify and qualify her/his work against a supposed bias that may creep in while studying one’s own society. Even today, anthropology, I guess more so in the western countries, encourages one to take up topics related to ‘other’ societies rather than one’s own country, society or community due to this understanding (Ranco 2006: 65-66). Ranco, an

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anthropologist belonging to an American Indian tribe, describes how during his undergraduate and graduate studies he was advised to take up topics dealing with a community other than his own. The reason behind such an advice, he describes, was that in order to become a ‘real’ anthropologist it was expected that he should study something really different from himself, something ‘exotic’ (ibid.). This brings us to the motives that drive anthropologists to specific topics. Ranco points out that his intent in studying anthropology and taking up particular topics were different from many of his colleagues. His colleagues were intent on traveling abroad and taking up something which was not familiar to them. For him the concerns were significantly different. As he states, ‘I sought to capture anthropological “skills”, understand my place in the world, and help my community communicate our struggles for survival’ (ibid.). It is argued that an anthropologist studying his/her own community has insights into various aspects of his/her own community, specifically burning issues which matter to the community the most. This research project is also shaped by the concerns and issues that have been at the heart of the Agari community. However, since no community is homogenous and uniform, there can never be a complete agreement on its representation. Therefore it is essential to discuss how my identity as an Agari has shaped this research. Moreover, as we have discussed earlier, belonging to a particular community does not necessarily mean that one will have easy access to it. The difficulties that were encountered in establishing rapport and carrying out the fieldwork, despite belonging to the community, are discussed below.

My association with the Agaris My association with the Agari community began with my birth. My father belongs to this community and as per the general patrilineal conventions of our society, I automatically belong to his community. By the time the topic of my doctoral dissertation had been finalized, I was intuitively aware of the rich possibilities that a research project on this community would offer. The Agaris have a very distinct local dialect and a fairly extensive repertoire of folksongs. I had seen the poverty and lack of education within the community and the tremendous physical labour that a majority section of the community had to perform to survive. The low social status of the community added a qualitatively different dimension to this rather assertive, hard working, enterprising and aggressive group of people.

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My father, his friends within the community and our relatives used to talk about how our previous generations were the early settlers in villages on the island of Mumbai which later grew into a city. The story of my father’s family was just one of the many that were heard from our distant relatives, father’s friends and grandparents. A common thread running across most of the stories was the loss of ancestral homes and land, the loss of traditional means of livelihood and the resulting poverty and marginalization in an otherwise prospering city of Mumbai. The Agaris, the Kolis and other low caste communities of Mumbai had faced a similar fate. All this was at the back of my mind when the topic of this dissertation was finalized.

3.3 Fieldwork Preparatory fieldwork An exploratory survey was conducted between July 2002 and August 2003. It was meant to tap the issues and concerns of the community in view of more in-depth research. A list of possible resource persons from the community was prepared. Appointments were taken and meetings were held, and an interview schedule was used to conduct semi-structured interviews. The people interviewed were mainly from Mumbai, Raigad and Thane districts although, to be precise, the community is spread over six districts namely – Mumbai, Thane, Raigad, Nashik, Ratnagiri and Pune. Secondary material was collected from various local community organizations, functions, literary meets and contact persons. A majority of the people interviewed were men. Occupation-wise there were school and college teachers - retired or working, social activists, political leaders, in-charges of marriage bureaux, news-paper reporters and journalists, editors and writers who are wellknown in the community. A few of them are also known in the mainstream Marathi literary circles. These Agari men and women were asked about their own life histories and also about the history of the community in general. They were asked about distinct regional customs and characteristics of the Agari community from their native places or neighbourhood. Suggestions were invited in terms of reference material and issues and concerns to be kept in mind while doing this kind of a study. Almost all of them gave additional contact names and addresses. In total, approximately a fifty men and women were interviewed. Several places

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and villages in Thane, Raigad and Mumbai were visited for interviewing these people or for attending Agari functions and/or events of interest.

Research plan There were a number of ways in which this fieldwork could have been conducted. One of the options was to do the research among the Agaris of Mumbai who were perhaps the first of the lot to have lost their land and livelihood when Mumbai grew as a city. As stated earlier, I have drawn inspiration from a sense of a shared past of Agaris of Mumbai. This sense of history shared by the community is laced with a feeling of hurt, antagonism and helplessness for being alienated from their own land and for being left out of the ‘economic progress’ that marked the growth of the city. Despite drawing inspiration for this project from the Agaris of Mumbai, I had a rather naïve idea that an ethnographic research project on the community should be representative of the entire community and therefore should do justice to the regional differences of at least three, if not all six, districts across which the community is spread. However, after much deliberation and readings I came to the understanding that there cannot be a completely ‘representative’ picture of any community, and realized that covering all the districts was a bit too ambitious, at least for a doctoral dissertation. Besides I felt that the depth and richness would be lost which an ethnographic inquiry yields. Thus it was decided to locate myself at one place, and in a village rather than the city. Location at one place, I felt, would yield a rich and in-depth understanding of the community and its past. At the same time, visits were made to several neighbouring village in the region. I thought it is necessary that the field-site should be a village because the majority of the Agaris still live in villages. Engagement with the village life, I thought, would give better insights about the community’s past as well as the way of life followed by the community. That this understanding was not ill-founded was confirmed repeatedly through the fieldwork. Once it was decided that the fieldwork was to be conducted in a village, the next question was where, and which village.

3.4 Selection of the fieldwork site and entry Selection of the site During the year 2004, prior to commencement of the fieldwork in Chirner, I visited a number of villages in Raigad and Thane. One of these villages was Chirner. Village life was not an

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alien experience for me and these initial trips were guided by personal experiences as well as by the information collected in the initial stages of exploratory study and the information obtained from the secondary material collected. But the list of villages where fieldwork could be conducted was drawn only after these exploratory visits.

Map. 3.1 The state of Maharashtra and its districts. Source: http://www.censusindia.net/results/2001maps/maharashtra01.html Office of the Registrar General, India. 2A, Mansingh Road, New Delhi 110 011, India [email protected], created on 9th November 2001

Among all the villages, Chirner stood out. As discussed earlier Mumbai was not to be considered. Nashik, Ratnagiri and Pune were left out as the proportion of the Agari population is miniscule in these two districts. A comparison between the remaining two districts of Thane and Raigad showed that Raigad had a larger and more concentrated population of Agaris as compared to Thane. 1 Uran taluka 2 in which Chirner is located was, until very recent times, one of the most remote and backward regions in the district.

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Map 3.2 Uran and other talukas in Raigad district. Source: Based upon the map given in District Census Handbook, Raigarh, Census of India 1991.

An aunt of mine is married into this village and she had often invited me to visit her home. She had maintained emphatically that her village was a ‘historical village’ as a famous Jungle Satyagraha had taken place in this village. Her father-in-law, his male cousins and several other men in the village, she said, were well-versed with the history of the region. Visiting this village was on the priority list even before selecting a site for the fieldwork was on the agenda as it also offered other interesting possibilities. A small booklet published by

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the villagers (which my aunt had gifted me) had some interesting articles in it. One article on ‘Kharland 3 development scheme’ specifically offered some crucial insights (I have mentioned Kharland in the Introductory chapter. Also see Chapter Four for a general history of reclamation of land and Chapter Seven for a history of reclamation in Chirner and its neighbouring villages). The booklet was published in the memory of one Dr. Talwalkar who had helped the villagers in opening a private hospital in the village. The article described how he had also helped them in getting foreign expertise and financial assistance for the maintenance of the Kharland. Interestingly this assistance came from the Netherlands where nearly forty percent of the land is below sea-level, and the country has been a success story of land reclamation. In recent times, the responsibility of this reclamation has been taken up permanently by the government. Earlier it was maintained locally by people and therefore required regular repair. Being an internationally acclaimed professional, Dr. Talwalkar had contacts in the Netherlands and he could manage to bring an expert team to assist the Maharashtra state government for the development of Kharland. This article provided significant insights. The land in and around Chirner was of a peculiar type. It was saline land referred to in the official parlance as Kharland. It was earlier submerged under the sea and required special treatment to desalinate it and making it cultivable. The land was to be reclaimed, and its salinity removed before it was ready for cultivation. But even after the land came under cultivation the maintenance, especially the maintenance of the bund that prevents sea-water from entering the low lying farmland, was labour intensive. The maintenance and cultivation of this land was different and more tedious than normal (non-salt or godi) land farming. These insights brought awareness that this was an example of an ‘indigenous knowledge system’. Afterwards, the literature review and discussions with people and visits to villages were guided by these very important insights and it soon became clear that the Agari community from all the three districts once specialized in the cultivation of salt paddy fields (In Mumbai this was the case until the last century). Gradually it emerged that perhaps association with salt land along the coast of northern Konkan was an important factor in the development of the ‘Agari’ identity. Several meetings with some of the elderly men in Chirner who knew the history of the region revealed information about the migration of their ancestors from different villages of the district to this village. These families were brought by the landlords and usurers to reclaim and cultivate the salt land. This seemed like an

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opportunity to explore the various processes of formation of the Agari identity. The village exemplified a sense of its past. It was different from Mumbai. Nonetheless there was an acute awareness of the marginalization and subjugation, which was not only economic but also social and cultural. A visit to the village and surrounding region alluded towards some interesting linkages. An elaborate system of land management by Agaris was in vogue for the maintenance of Kharland in the village of Chirner. During the pre-Independence period the absentee landlords had appointed members of a particular lineage as the kharpatils (chief managers of the Kharland). While the office was dissolved after the savkars 4 lost land to the tenants, the members still derived power, prestige and their surname 5 from this office that their forefathers had held.

Map 3.3 Chirner and neighbouring villages in Uran Taluka Source: Uran Taluka Office, Uran, Raigad, 2005.

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Entry into the village It was more than a year after this visit that I selected Chirner for fieldwork. These insights that the village offered had left indelible impressions and the village fascinated me with the possibilities that it offered. The Agari community assiduously maintains its kinship network. My aunt would not have it that I should stay in any other village or in any other house in the same village. She told me - ‘I can’t let a girl stay on her own.’ And an invitation to stay with them for the period during the fieldwork was offered with affectionate ownership. There were some disadvantages to this kind of an arrangement. The family is one of the richer families in the village and the region. It established my social ties with the upper most strata. The wealth and the social status of the family created a visible distance between them and their relatively humble fellow villagers. Would this hamper my fieldwork? It was fraught with contradictory possibilities i.e. to face antagonisms from some sections and receive unsolicited favours from others. The implications of such an association became visible as the fieldwork proceeded. But I also realized that such difficulties were a part and parcel of ‘any’ fieldwork as it was foolish and outright naïve to assume a completely harmonious and united community or a village. There would be class and political differences and chances were high that my associations through kinship would always be with the relatively wealthier sections of any village in the Raigad and Thane district. Adjusting into a joint family, with considerable restrictions on its women, be they daughters-in-law or daughters was far more difficult on a personal level. But the intimate family relationship made this long stay effective and productive for the research and emotionally enriching. It made access easy on various fronts and gave an instant prominent social location within the social settings in the region. It provided an insider’s view of the relations of the upper echelon with the rest of the Agari community and a view into the internal family dynamics of one of the influential families in the village. Association with the family was only one aspect of the complexities involved in the ethnographic fieldwork. My Agari identity was definitely an advantage. In fact almost all interactions with people involved, on their part, an attempt to locate me in their kinship network. It was not at all difficult for a large number of them. It was not just the caste, but also my class, gender, urban educated identity and associated life style that further complicated the matter.

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The hindrances involved in developing a rapport with the people and how they were dealt with some success would be discussed in some detail. However, some of the failures are far more important as they bring out the dilemmas, the difficulties of making ethical choices during a field situation. They also bring out the delicateness of the relationship between me and the people. In all, my Agari identity made rapport building easy but it also threw up some issues with no easy answers, because although I was considered one amongst the villagers, they also noticed, and made explicit, the differences between us.

3.5 Establishing rapport Going ‘native’: how easy is it for a ‘native’ anthropologist? The fieldwork was started in October 2004 and ended by July 2005. It was divided in stretches, sometimes as short as fifteen days and as long as two months. There were four such stints of fieldwork. In all, approximately seven months were spent in the field. Even after this, contacts were maintained and brief visits were made, while writing up. When I entered the field I was recently married and due to a modern and progressive life style did not wear the traditional marks indicating my marital status – the green bangles and a mangalsutra. 6 Not to wear these symbols which indicate the marital status of a woman was my conscious decision. Not wearing a mangalsutra could mean having to face some very difficult and awkward situations during the fieldwork. The option of wearing a temporary mangalsutra during the fieldwork in order to facilitate smooth interaction and to avoid unnecessary disruption was considered but rejected. Although I did stick to this decision throughout the fieldwork I often wondered whether the decision was really the right one. I would be lying if I said that this did not lead to some very embarrassing situations in rapport building, especially with women, where it took longer than it would have taken otherwise. Dealing with the queries about my marital status was emotionally draining and often pushed me towards the edge. As rapport building is in itself a difficult task, it often meant tolerating some rude and humiliating remarks. But I realized gradually that there was no need to take everything emotionally. I remember having tolerated some repeated nasty comments from one woman. Every time I passed through the courtyard of her house she would question me about my mangalsutra in front of some strangers, forcing me to slide into a defensive mode trying to explain. As it continued for long I decided to make it clear that I was not going

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to take such repeated slander. She realized in no time that I did not like her ways and that I did not care for her opinion. To my surprise after that there was a complete turn around in her approach. There were several such learning experiences about how to establish relationships. It was preferable I realized to have a direct/transparent, firm and simple interaction in apparently complex and difficult situations. Due to the ambiguity about my marital status in the minds of my informants, many initial interactions were characterized by suspicious and guarded curiosity about my version of reasons for not wearing a mangalsutra. And it also gave liberty, to men and women, to make assumptions about my ‘character’ and pass some - direct or indirect - lewd comments. The following incident is a case in point. During the first few weeks of my stay I happened to meet a young man from a neighbouring village through one of my informants in the Chirner village. During the next few weeks, he very eagerly offered to introduce me to some important contact persons. He also took keen interest in accompanying me to various villages. After two-three such visits I received a cautionary advice from his cousin (who had introduced me to this man). The young man was a divorcee and was known for his unruly behaviour with his wife and weakness for women. The very next day I received similar advice from a woman in Chirner village, which was more of a reprimand for my ‘irresponsible’ behaviour. I sensed that my acquaintance with the man was not received very positively. In this period of nine months some very good friends were also made who, after the initial curiosity had faded, did not bother much about (the absence of) the mangalsutra. During the first two months however, a major part of the time spent in the villages went in making contacts, collecting genealogies and getting some rough idea about the history of the region. Invariably, a majority of my informants during this period were men. Since many of them were primary school teachers, local political leaders and office holders in the Gram Panchayat or offices, they were all interested and had their own ideas about the history of their region and the community. The old men among them, who had a special interest in my topic, were all very encouraging and helpful and were rather pleased to know that a member of their own community was planning to write its history. However, it needs to be mentioned that during this initial period there were hardly any meaningful acquaintances made with women in the village and this made me rather desperate and anxious. When men and women were requested for additional references and contacts, these invariably were of men. There

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was only one exception to this rule and that was of an old lady from a neighbouring village who had actively participated in the pre-Independence struggle against the savkars.

Rapport with women: familiarity, collective performances and rituals Other strategies had to be adopted to open dialogue with women. I made a beginning through the dhavalarins – the Agari female priests – and their names and addresses were noted. In each of the villages, these dhavalarins were contacted. The Agari community has an impressive repertoire of songs (dhavale) related to the rituals of marriage ceremony which are sung by them. Requests to collect songs, as it was considered appreciation, were rarely declined, but due to their length and quantity, singing these songs is a time-consuming affair. They are also considered to be auspicious. Since the dhavalarins are paid handsomely for their services as marriage priests, at least some of them expected something in return if they were required to sing these songs. Many of them advised me to attend the weddings and get a first-hand live performance of the songs. Nonetheless, this strategy worked well at least to make initial contacts with women. Thus my initial important female informants, many of whom later became good friends, were dhavalarins. Friendships with women other than the dhavalarins increased only during the second spell of the field work. During this period Chirner became the focus of attention although occasional visits to neighboring villages continued for economic activities such as salt making, brick kiln work and the like which are carried out mainly during the summer. The collection of family histories continued throughout this and the following periods. By this time I was a familiar face in the village and word had spread about me in the region. People knew about me even before I had met them. Through the village market, or while waiting on the main road to catch the ‘six-seater’ rickshaw or bus, or while walking through the paddy fields between two villages, women and men had started exchanging friendly smiles. In fact, some very interesting conversations took place during such long walks when we accidentally met on the way or when they offered to accompany me for specific reasons. Walking between villages was therefore preferred, as this offered an opportunity to observe closely, the geography of the village and surrounding paddy fields and also gave a chance to meet people where they could be observed mending the bunds of fields, catching fish in the shallow creek water for hours in the scorching sun or carrying firewood.

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Additionally, it provided an opportunity to chat informally about anything and everything of interest unobtrusively. Another strategy which proved helpful was attending collective activities in which women and men gathered and performed some rituals or songs. In a group there was less inhibition on the part of the participants. In the month of February, while attending the guru dashmi celebration in Khopata village I realized how important it was not to make any assumptions and attend every possible collective activity/ceremony. On the last day of this celebration the palanquin of saint Gopalkaka 7 is carried in a procession through the entire village. The procession lasted for five hours traversing through seven padas. My original plan was to follow the procession just through a single pada. But as the procession moved first through the Bandh pada, a large number of old women joined and started singing songs in a peculiar high pitch and rhythm. I learnt that this pitch and rhythm varied from song to song and was called in local parlance – ghati. One could not mess with the ghati while singing a song. It was an art and it was an integral part of the song, its tune and lyrics. As the procession traversed the seven padas of Khopata village, the women from each pada continued to accompany the procession and sing songs till the procession passed through their pada. However, the initial group of old women from Bandh pada was with the procession throughout. Since saint Gopalkaka was from Bandh pada, the procession was considered their responsibility i.e. singing these songs till the end. As stated earlier, the procession lasted for five hours and women incessantly sang songs, taking turns in leading the singing activity. This opened to me a completely new world of folksongs and their performance. The lesson learnt was that no such processions in the village were to be missed under any circumstances, since women and their folksongs were an integral part of such activities.

Informants make sense of ‘researcher’ Due to increased familiarity, many men and women invited me to their households for the survey which was conducted during the third phase of my fieldwork. Their encouraging words and support meant a lot during the taxing schedule of fieldwork. Especially so because explaining to informants the nature of work, its outcome and the need to be in field for such an extended period of time was very difficult. Most of the women informants were nonliterate. Among the older men, a very small section was literate and some had completed schooling. Very few had attended college. For nearly a year they saw me moving around the region, at times in the torrid sun or in heavy rains. It was not surprising therefore that they

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could not understand possible gains from such ‘weird’ details about their families, or from ‘observations’ as they trampled the muddy soil and carried out the planting activity or rituals such as kathi nachavane or bal kadhane. One informant later told me how she had asked her nephew who stays in Mumbai about why someone would hang around doing ‘nothing’, away from her husband and familial responsibilities for such a long period. It seems he had scoffed at her for her ignorance and explained to her, the importance of such research work. This information from a close source had somehow convinced her that it was not a waste of my time and she had imagined that it would yield good monetary returns in the future. Nonetheless, there were other instances where informants simply refused to grant me credit for even the slightest bit of sanity. Towards the end of the fieldwork it was shocking and disturbing to know that at least in some parts of the village there were discussions about how the ‘weird’ researcher had actually gone nuts. One villager was audacious enough to inform me about how people in one of the padas thought I was ‘crazy’. 8 It took me some time to make sense of such a rude remark through introspection.

3.6 Documentation of ethnographic data Data was collected through secondary as well as primary sources. Yet a significant portion of secondary data was collected simultaneously along with the ethnographic fieldwork, and read and interpreted in the light of the ethnographic data. Chapter Four and Chapter Five define historically the socio-economic context of the main ethnographic findings. These chapters are mainly based on gazetteers, census reports, historical documents and materials written and published by Agari leaders and caste organizations. The ethnographic data also substantiates these chapters. In fact these chapters can be considered ethnographic in the sense that the fieldwork has provided invaluable clues about what historical documents to look into, for instance in terms of time period and geographical region. Ethnographic fieldwork has also helped in making sense of much of what was available as secondary source material. Thus, it is ethnography which guided and directed the exploration, identification and interpretation of secondary data.

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Ethnography: participant observation and interviews Participant observation Participant observation, the anthropological method par excellence, in a broader sense, is a methodological approach and can be used as synonym for ethnography, and therefore, may cover a range of methods. In a narrow sense, it may mean a technique of data collection where there is actual ‘participation’ in the social life of a group one wishes to study and ‘observation’ of its activities. In the broader sense, all of the methods of data collection that are discussed below can be in fact considered a part of ‘participant observation’. Observation without input about the observed activity from the informants does not yield much. Therefore in a certain sense one cannot really distinguish observation from other methods of data collection. Yet ‘participant observation’ as a method, where the researcher spends an extended period of time in the field and collects a significant amount of data by actually participating in the social life of the people being studied, is unique to anthropology and needs special mention as a technique of data collection. During my fieldwork, a lot of time was spent observing agricultural and related activities. Apart from agriculture, people were engaged in a number of activities such as saltmaking, fishing, collecting firewood, cooking and cleaning, construction of houses and collecting water. These activities were also closely observed. Festivals and life-cycle rituals were another important category where participant observation was a must. I also participated in a host of political activities such as meetings, inauguration ceremonies and the like. Yet, as mentioned earlier, participant observation was always accompanied with other modes of data collection – interviewing and collection of other publicly performed speech forms (public speeches, folk songs). Interviewing, while observing activities, involved seeking information regarding those activities. Yet, at times one also ended up listening to life histories, family histories and collecting genealogies when in fact these things were least expected. These often came as supplements to my observations. ‘Participant observation’ engrained as it is in the present, may be viewed as contributing little to a historical understanding of the community. However a thorough grounding in the ‘present’ of the community was a must if a historical narrative of the community is to be built. In Bourdieu’s sense, habitus is a product of history and in turn

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produces history in the practice of the actors. Much of the ethnographic information about the present thus helped in making sense of the information about the past that was collected through

interviews,

genealogies, folksongs, archival and secondary sources and

questionnaires.

Interviews: structured, semi-structured and open-ended Structured, semi-structured and unstructured interviews were the most important source of information next to participant observation during the fieldwork. While the semi-structured interviews and structured interviews were conducted to collect family histories, life histories and information about specific topics such as the life-cycle rituals, modes of dispute settlement, operation and organization of caste councils. A large portion of interviews were spontaneous, conducted on the spot and therefore unstructured and informal in nature. These were more of conversations and I saw to it that the conversation continued and at times gave leads in directions that interested me. A questionnaire with broad open-ended questions was used earlier in the preparatory study (see Appendix II). The same schedule was later used with minor modifications in the area of fieldwork to tap issues specific to the region. This semi-structured, partly informal interviewing helped in making initial contacts and building rapport. In-depth interviews were conducted with reference to some specific issues. The questions in such cases were prepared separately for each informant, but most of the times the questions were spontaneous. A more structured schedule (see Appendix III) was executed as a part of a sample survey conducted during the later part of fieldwork.

Ethnography: genealogies, folk-songs and documents Family histories were generally accompanied by detailed genealogies. The depth of genealogies would cover at times as many as six generations. Genealogical construction also equipped me to ask specific questions regarding family history. Otherwise, during the initial period where I hardly knew anything about many of the families, often discussions about the family history seemed shallow and superficial. Names of women and their details – specifically of married paternal aunts, paternal grandaunts, and grandmothers – often remained conspicuous by their absence. This was specially the case about women of a generation or two ago.

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Folk songs It has been mentioned earlier that developing a rapport with women was not easy. It was soon revealed that even for a female ethnographer well versed in Marathi and familiar with the Agari dialect, it was not very easy to collect folksongs. Folksongs for many of these women and also men were a prized possession. Moreover, for some of the songs there were specific occasions of performance. The different genres existing in the Agari folksongs came to me during the prolonged stay on the field. My informants hardly ever mentioned the variety that existed in the songs. Also, familiarity with the people was important in leading me towards women who knew songs. While the Agari female priests were themselves like an encyclopedia of folklore and songs, a large number of other women also had their own personal collection of folksongs.

Documents A variety of documents written mostly by Agaris and others were collected prior to, during and after the fieldwork. These texts are different from the set of texts which are produced, published and read within an academic setting. Some of the texts were unpublished. Among the remaining, almost all of the texts were published privately or by some local publishing house; none were published by leading publishing houses. These texts include literary works such as collections of poems, songs and stories, novels or plays. There are non-fictional texts dealing with the history, social and cultural life of the community. Newspaper and journal articles also form an important section of this corpus. There are some autobiographies and biographies of some well-known personalities. Pamphlets, booklets and souvenirs published by various Agari caste-based associations are also there. There is the larger overarching body of publications brought out by Akhil Agari Samaj Parishad (All Agari Community Council) and Agari Agale Shikshan Fund (Agari-Agale Education Fund). Agari Darpan and Agrasen are two Agari caste magazines. The back issues of these journals were also collected. These documents were important as they provided important insights throughout the course of my research. They helped in shaping concrete research questions, finding keyinformants, directing the research in specific directions, understanding the observations and information of fieldwork and in the final analysis – in making, supporting and substantiating the arguments made in this work.

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Documentation of ethnographic data Five different notebooks were maintained during the fieldwork to manage the data collection process and then document the data collected – jotting pad, log book, address book, file for field notes and a diary. The jotting pad was used for jotting down the day to day observations, conversations and names. These were rough jottings and scribblings in the form of keywords of the information collected. The details were written down in the form of descriptions every evening in the form of field notes. These field notes were divided into Descriptive, Analytical and Methodological notes. They were recorded date-wise. The descriptive notes were the most extensive notes, analytical and methodological notes were far between and written only occasionally. During the first phase, the notes were maintained manually. However, during the subsequent spells of fieldwork a laptop was used to document the field notes. The log-book was used to plan and keep a track of day-to-day activities. Two face-toface pages of the book represented a day. The pages were marked for timing starting at eight in the morning and ending at around eight at night. The left page was used to write the future appointments and right page was used to write what was actually done on that day. This logbook proved useful to plan and organize the seemingly vague and unstructured nature of ethnographic research. Although a recorder was carried, it was rarely used for the recording of interviews. It came in handy for the recording of songs and speeches which were publicly performed. In the semi-structured interviews information was recorded and filled in the schedule. Some of these interviews were recorded. On certain occasions, in the middle of the interview, the informants requested me to switch off the recorder. Public performances – either songs or speeches made in front of the public - were recorded on a digital recorder and later downloaded onto the computer and transcribed. People did not mind having these things recorded given the fact that they were meant for a larger audience.

Quantitative sample survey: some insights A household survey was carried out in the village of Chirner during the later part of fieldwork. It was this survey that actually offered some very significant insights into village life. A survey, at the very beginning of my fieldwork, would perhaps not have given such valuable and nuanced information. 173 survey schedules were filled up during a period of three months. The survey schedule consisted of two parts. Each referred to different points of

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time. One was 1975 and the other was 2005. The same set of questions pertaining to family, education, income, agricultural practices, land-holding, organization of family and hired labour etc. were asked twice - once for the year 1975 and then for 2005. This was meant to give an insight into the processes of change and their effects on individual households during this very crucial period of thirty years. The decade of the 1970s marks a watershed in the history of this region. The social and political changes that swept the region in the 1970s and 1980s have been discussed at length in Chapters Four and Five. It will suffice to mention here that the development of Navi Mumbai (New Bombay) as a sister city to Mumbai and Jawaharlal Nehru Port Trust in the adjacent region led to large-scale land acquisition activity. The peasant population in the adjacent region and in the region of fieldwork, which actually lost lands, was staunchly against the mode in which this acquisition was carried out by the government. The protest had turned violent towards the end and resulted in the loss of five Agari lives. The emergence of an urban center in the immediate vicinity brought rapid economic and social changes in the region. The life of Agari peasants in 1975 was therefore in many ways in stark contrast to the life in 2005, when the fieldwork was conducted. A list of households was drawn from the Gram Panchayat office for all padas. 9 Every fifth household on the list was marked for the household survey. The survey compelled me to make contacts with people and houses randomly across all the padas without making any deliberate choices. Although the households were selected randomly, absence of the residents or unwillingness on their part to give information meant that at times one had to deviate from the random list. Yet the survey by and large remained a random one. The survey at times became tedious because of the fact that one had to repeat visits to the households where there was no-one to offer information about life as it was in 1975. The Survey schedule was printed and filled up in Marathi, a language which respondents use as their first language. The schedule included questions pertaining to the following topics. Family - Basic background information on family such as family size, educational qualifications, occupations, age of marriage and distance of marriage.

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Landholding - Land held by a family, the proportion of land rented from a landlord (this information would give the incidence of tenancy), proportion of Kharland, Sweetland, maal varkas 10 land within the total landholding. Crop Pattern - Variety of crops taken, the yield from these crops, and monetary income received from the selling of the products. Organization of Labour - Proportion of the family members, especially women, working outside the house and contributing to the family income, proportion working on their own fields and on fields of other people, proportion working in exchange for shared labour and in exchange for money. Income and its Sources - This is a piece of information which is relatively hard to obtain. It is often underreported. Therefore the informants were not asked to state the total amount of their income. The strategy that was employed to get the information about income was slightly complicated. All the households drew their income from agricultural and nonagricultural sources. So they were asked about their annual produce from their land. Then they were asked about other means of occupation in which the members of the household engaged under the categories of wage labour, service and enterprise. The income was separately noted for each of these categories and was later on collated to get the total income of a household. Since the informants were asked questions about two time periods, many ended up giving an account of their family history between the period of 1975 and 2005. Some even gave information about the period prior to that. This happened more in cases where there was discrepancy in details between the two time periods. For example, if they had no land in 1975, and in 2005 they were holding land, then they had to explain it to me that they had bought the land. If there was less land now than earlier they explained to me that it was divided between brothers. Many a times nothing less than an hour was spent in filling up the schedule of a single household. But the exercise gave a sense of patterns of organization of family, levels of jointness between several nuclear units, patterns of livelihood activities as they differed between the two time periods, patterns of labour organization within the family and the pada as they were in 1975 and as they were now in 2005 and so on. These rich details that were collected during the survey (much of it had to be scribbled on the margins of the schedules) would not have been possible if the survey had been conducted early on during the period of my fieldwork.

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The fourth and last phase of the fieldwork had a very specific focus - to observe agricultural activities. It began in the first week of July and ended with the end of the month after the flood-like situation that was caused by rain storm on July 26, 2005. This was the period of planting activity when large groups of agricultural workers made rounds in the region. Even after finishing fieldwork in July 2005, some post-fieldwork visits were made from time to time. In the village, the Ganapati festival is observed twice in a year, once in the month of August-September and again in the month of January-February. These festivals were also observed. I also attended some of the literary functions of the Agari community.

3.7 Conclusion In this chapter, I have shown how a historically sensitive ethnography, which aims to look at the subtle processes of marginalization, has to fine tune the methodology to these requirements. To capture the voices of the people, I grounded myself in the present, yet sought ways to look through the eyes of the community towards its past. On the other hand, the other important aspects of this ethnographic inquiry were the issues that emerge when one is studying one’s own community. I share Ranco’s concerns, mentioned above, where he says ‘I sought to capture anthropological “skills”, understand my place in the world, and help my community communicate our struggles for survival’ (Ranco 2006: 65-66). The possibility of a bias – brought in the form of emotional attachment and identity - is always there in any inquiry; the anthropologist’s ‘agency’ and ‘reflexivity’ is important in dealing with it. One cannot ignore the insights and practical advantages that an ‘insider’ has. In an ethnographic fieldwork, one may have a rough outline to begin with. The broad framework outlined in the introduction was at the back of my mind throughout. Yet the present work has also evolved out of the process of data collection which began even before the ethnographic fieldwork in Chirner. Several insights which came unexpectedly shaped the course of inquiry. The scheme of chapters has thus emerged from the fieldwork and was nowhere in sight when I finalized the topic. We shall now proceed to these chapters.

1

See Appendix I. In 1931 at least, the proportion of the Agaris was the highest in Raigad (Kolaba) district.

Thane ranked below Raigad. 2

The Marathi word for tehsil. A tehsil is the level three administrative unit after state and district. A taluka/tehsil

is constituted of several villages.

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Kharland is agricultural land reclaimed from the sea. This is the official term. The Agari peasants call it just

khar or khar jamin. The non-saline land is called godi jamin. In official parlance it is called Sweetland. It does not require special treatment like the Kharland. Kharland is in this region exclusively under paddy cultivation. It is reclaimed from saline marshes by walling them and washing off their salinity. During the first few years the yield is low but the monsoon washes the salt from the land. Even after the salinity is washed, paddy cultivation in these fields is different from the paddy cultivation in the non-saline land. In Chapter Four we have a detailed discussion on Kharland, its peculiarities and history of its reclamation. 4

This is the Marathi word for moneylender. The peasants often refer to the big landowners, to whom they were

attached as tenants, as savkar. This is the case because many of them had become tenants on account of their incapacity to pay the debts that they had incurred from the moneylenders. The system of exploitation perpetuated by these landlords is termed as savkarshahi. 5

Khar-patil literally means the custodian of the khar – the creek and the land reclaimed from the creek,

Kharland. 6

Mangalsutra- the auspicious thread - is a necklace with black and golden beads and a peculiar gold pendant. In

rural as well as in urban areas of Maharashtra, and not just among the Agaris, green bangles, a mangalsutra and a red bindi (a dot put on the forehead) or kunku (vermilion) are important and sacred signifiers of a woman’s married status. A woman by virtue of being married is considered auspicious and is referred to as suvasini/savashna (the auspicious one). Absence of these signifiers either means death of the husband or separation from him. In rural areas wearing a sari is another practice which comes with marriage. In urban areas the rule is not so strictly followed. This is true for Agaris also. Daughters and daughters-in-law residing in cities who have had a rural upbringing see to it that when they visit their village they are wearing a sari. It is very recently that this practice is not followed by women from wealthier and educated sections of rural areas. Gloria Goodwin-Raheja (1988) during her fieldwork in Uttar Pradesh was advised to wear bindi, sindur and bangles to ensure her acceptability among the villagers. She had followed the advice and had gained more ready acceptance among the people. 7

Gopalkaka was born into an Agari peasant family from Khopata village in the early twentieth century. From a

very young age, he was attracted towards the Varkari cult, a popular religious cult from Maharashtra, known for its appeal among rural folk, and its critique of the orthodox Brahmanical principles. Every year in the month of February, the anniversary of Gopal kaka’s initiation into the fold is celebrated in the village of Khopata. 8 9

Tila ved laaglay – she has gone mad. The smaller settlement or locality within a village is called pada.

10

The maal varkas land is forest land usually attached to the cultivable land. The land has a forest cover and is

used as a source for firewood. Some families have big varkas landholdings in which they have trees which can fetch good cash - such as teak, Acacia catechu etc.

Chapter Four The region: ecology and society 4.1 Introduction The site for fieldwork (Chirner village, in Uran taluka of Maharashtra) was introduced and the methodological framework defined in the previous chapter. This chapter defines the socioeconomic and political context of the further chapters. Although it derives much from the secondary sources, the selection and understanding of the secondary sources is guided by the ethnographic fieldwork. In section 4.2, since Chirner is located in Raigad district of the Konkan, I give a brief political history of the Konkan region. In section 4.3, I discuss a peculiar ecological feature of the northern part of the Konkan, the saline marshes and the history of their reclamation for the cultivation of paddy and production of salt. These were the primary occupations of the Agaris and they have had a bearing on the history of the community and the region. In section 4.4, the class and caste society with a special reference to the agrarian society in the Konkan is described.

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4.2 Konkan: an overview Chirner is situated in the eastern part of Uran taluka in Raigad district of Maharashtra. Geographically and historically, the state of Maharashtra is divided into five regions – namely Konkan, Pashchim (western) Maharashtra (Desh), Vidarbha, Marathwada and Uttar (northern) Maharashtra (Khandesh). 1 The Konkan is the coastline of Maharashtra flanked on its east by the Western Ghats – the Sahyadri ranges - which run north to south, parallel to the sea-shore thus forming a narrow and steep strip of coastal land. Raigad district is a part of this coastal region along with three other districts – Thane, Ratnagiri, Sindhudurga - and Mumbai city. The Konkan has been relatively cut off from the rest of the Deccan plateau due to the steep ranges of the Sahyadri. The geographical continuity of the region and relative discontinuity from the rest of Maharashtra has led to comparative homogeneity in the social and cultural life in the Konkan region. The region shares some unique characteristics in terms of ecology, caste and class society, political history, means of livelihood, way of life and language. Within the Konkan, one can further identify two broad cultural zones. They are important for the understanding of the history of the Agaris and would be discussed in detail in this chapter. It would suffice here to mention that the northern districts of Thane, Raigad and the city of Mumbai would be referred to as northern Konkan and the remaining two districts of Ratnagiri and Sindhudurga would be referred to as southern Konkan.

History A brief overview of political developments in this region is essential as a background to the detailed ethnographic discussion that will follow in this and other chapters. The period between the middle of the nineteenth century and the present is the principal concern. However, the entry point of the mid-nineteenth century needs to be set further in a geographical and historical context because some of the issues of land settlement and revenue management had their roots in historical and political developments of the earlier centuries. The pattern which emerges through this discussion is that of repeated battles between rulers, the appointment of caretakers or chiefs by the rulers and these appointed men turning powerful and establishing themselves as independent kings. These rulers and their appointed chiefs constantly waged war for the control of territory either among themselves or with

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neighbouring kingdoms. Some of them were powerful enough to introduce some uniformity in administration and revenue settlement. In the third century B.C. Emperor Ashoka (the Maurya dynasty) had extended his empire over this region and the port of Sopara (today’s Nala Sopara) was a flourishing port (Maharashtra State Gazetteer, District Raigad [hereafter DGR] 1993: 97). During Ashoka’s rule, the Buddhist religion flourished in this region. The Mauryan Empire was followed by the rule of the Satvahanas and Kshatrapas, the Traikutas (they ruled northern Konkan and Gujarat), and the Kalachuris (ibid.: 101-106). In the fourth century A.D. another Maurya dynasty ruled northern Konkan and came to be known in Indian history as the ‘Mauryas of the Konkan’ or ‘the later age Mauryas’. (ibid.: 108). The port of Mora near Uran is believed to owe its name to this Maurya dynasty (ibid.: 106-110). The Mauryas were followed by Chalukyas, Rashtrakutas and Shilaharas in northern Konkan (ibid.: 110-112).

Yadavas The last king of the Shilaharas to rule the Konkan was Someshwar who died around 1265 A.D. in a battle with the Yadavas of Devagiri. From the time of the Yadavas of Devagiri the historical records are less obscure. Yadavas are important as the first historical texts with references to Agaris are from the period of their reign. After defeating the Shilaharas, the Yadavas appointed a governor to administer northern Konkan (ibid.: 119). 2 The Yadavas lost to Allauddin Khilji towards the end of the thirteenth century. Some historians claim that the son of the Yadava King escaped to the northern part of the Konkan which they had captured from the Shilaharas (Edwardes 1901). Interestingly, the Agaris make a reference to the arrival of a ‘King Bimba’ from Mungi Paithan which is near Devgiri, the capital of the Yadavas. They claim that their ancestors came from Mungi Paithan with King Bimba and settled in the northern part of Konkan. The first rock edict (Nagav) with a first ever reference made to the Agari community also belongs to the fourteenth century, after King Bimba had settled in the northern Konkan. Mahikavatichi bakhar, a historical text written under the patronage of King Bimba of Mahim (Mahikavati) belongs to the same period and describes Bimba’s arrival in the region. The text also has a reference to the Agari community. This is discussed in detail below.

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Bahamanis and the Deccan Sultanate The Yadavas were followed by the Khilajis and Muhammad Tughlaq thereafter. But they were soon overtaken by the Bahamanis dynasty (founded by the rebel Amirs of Tughlaq) who ruled over the Deccan in 1318 A.D. However, the north Konkan did not come under their control easily. Some of the parts were under their control, while some part of the Raigad district was under the control of the Vijayanagar Empire till 1377 A.D. 3 This control was perhaps exercised through the Palegar Marathas of Raigad. The Lingayats were the rulers over some parts, and the Kolis also exercised control over other parts of the region (DGR 1993: 120). Repeated attempts by the Bahamanis to win the region of the Konkan failed until 1489 A.D. Ultimately, Malik Ahmad Bahamani succeeded in extending his territory upto the Konkan. By 1489, the southern half of the territory was under the Bahamanis and the northern half under the sultans of Gujarat. The Bahmani dynasty came to an end in 1538 and was divided into five sultanates – Adilshahi 4 (Bijapur), Nizamshahi (Ahmednagar), Qutubshahi (Golconda), Imadshahi (Berar) and Baridshahi (Bidar) (Chopra 1981: 37). The northwestern part of Maharashtra went into the hands of the Nizamshahi, which included north Konkan. Chaul region (in Alibag taluka in Raigad district) remained under the Gujarat Sultan and was acquired by the Portuguese in 1509 A.D. (DGR 1993: 120), while Adilshah controlled the southern Konkan. The Mughals defeated Nizamshahi in 1600. However, the nobles of Nizamshahi continued to resist the Moghuls under the leadership of Malik Ambar. 5

Marathas Shivaji’s father Shahaji was a noble in the court of Nizamshah and a supporter of Malik Ambar, the able chief minister of Nizamshahi. After Malik Ambar’s death in 1626, Shahaji continued to support Nizamshahi but he was defeated by the combined force of the Mughals and Adilshahi. 6 Thus ensued a fight for political independence, which was carried forward by Shahaji’s son Shivaji (DGR 1993: 122). For the next two centuries this region witnessed conflicts for control over territory amongst the Marathas (initially under the leadership of Shivaji and his successors followed by the leadership of Peshwas), the Siddis 7 (who continued to hold Janjira state until India’s Independence), the Mughals, the Portuguese (who left the region in 1739 after a defeat by the

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Peshwas in the famous battle of Vasai and were confined to Goa), and the British. Our discussion is set in the context of the history of the British occupation. The period between the thirteenth and early nineteenth century, i.e. since the Yadavas took over northern Konkan till the last battle of 1818 between the Peshwas and the British, is important. The first reference to Agaris, as mentioned earlier, belongs to the fourteenth century. Nizamshahi and Adilshahi established two different patterns of revenue settlement. Land reclamation activity, which is discussed below, was already taking place during this period in parts of Bombay, Thane and Raigad. Across the northern Konkan region the patronage that reclamation activity received, its management and revenue collection varied under different rulers (Angres 8 , Siddis, Marathas and Peshwas). A large amount of reclamation had already taken place when the British took over in the nineteenth century. The British further patronized the reclamation activity wherever marshy land was available. The geography of salt marsh lands, its history and its relevance for the history of Agaris is discussed in the following few pages.

4.3 Reclaiming land from salt marshes Salt marshes of the Konkan coastline The Konkan coastline has vast stretches of salt marshes created by the intruding sea and weathering of basalt. They are characterized by a specific type of sticky and muddy soil. Although there are some stretches which remain untouched, a large part has been reclaimed. These lands are ideal for the production of salt. They are also conducive for the production of paddy if the excess salinity is removed. 9 These lands are regularly fed by the creeks, which were responsible for the formation of these marshes. The reclamation, management and use of this soil, either for making salt or for the cultivation of paddy, require special skills and a great amount of physical labour. Due to certain ecological and geological peculiarities, the northern part of the Konkan has a higher concentration of salt marshes. It is thus not surprising that salt production activity was concentrated in the northern districts of the Konkan although it was carried out on the entire coast. Similar to saltpans, Kharland paddy fields are also found across the Konkan coastline but are concentrated in the northern districts of the Konkan due to the reasons mentioned above.

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Table 4.1 Distribution of Kharland across four Konkan districts District

No. of

Kharland Percentage

creeks area

Percentage of

of Kharland Kharland in

(hectares) to the total land

Thane and Raigad to the total Kharland

Thane

12

20,795

31.77

Raigad

7

31,800

48.58

Ratnagiri

18

5,770

8.81

Sindhudurga 17

7,100

10.85

Total

64,465

80.34

Source: Information provided by the Kharland Research Center, Panvel, Raigad

The yield of paddy from this kind of land is usually higher than the normal nonmarshy soil but it is relatively more vulnerable to the vagaries of monsoon. In Raigad, Thane and Mumbai these reclaimed salt lands are variably referred to as kotha, khar, khajan, khartan, kharepat and khalati. 10 The abundance of such terms shows that there is a history of reclamation of such land and cultivation of paddy on it. Kharland is a recent technical term widely used mainly after the formation of a government body called Kharland Development Board in the 1950s for management of this land. Similar examples of salt land paddy cultivation from other regions are not rare. In Kerala, the Paraiyas, an ‘untouchable’ community, were skilled labourers hired by the high caste landowners for cultivation in wetland paddy fields of the famous Kuttanad region, the rice bowl of Kerala (Tharamangalam 1981). Gullahs from South Carolina, USA (Twining and Baird 1980) and Acadians from the Nova Scotia, Canada (Longley 1936; Hamer 1938; Bird 1955) are other interesting examples of communities which specialize in the reclamation of salt marshes and cultivation on them.

Geological history of Konkan: Spread of Kharland in the Konkan – comparison of Ratnagiri and Raigad Soil characteristics of the Deccan plateau of Maharashtra and the Konkan are the result of the weathering of basalt, a product of fissure eruptions 11 that took place some 65 million years ago. Although soils in both the districts from the Konkan – Raigad and Ratnagiri – are a

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product of basalt, comparison of the resources (basalt, laterite etc.) of these two adjacent districts shows a marked difference in the characteristics (see the maps 4.1 and 4.2). Ratnagiri (Map 4.2) has more of laterite (marked in the maps in red colour and number 13). This reddish soil is the trademark of the southern Konkan districts of Ratnagiri and Sindhudurga. Raigad by contrast has more of basalt. It is characterized by a different variety of soil; it is the fertile black cotton soil. A large part of it is in the form of alluvial deposits (marked in the map 4.1 in off-white and number 14) on the sides of the rivers (Amba, Balganga, Patalganga, Ghadi) that crisscross the region (specifically the talukas of Panvel, Uran, Pen, Alibag, Murud and Roha).This kind of rich soil cover spreads over the northern coastal area, through Raigad, Mumbai and Thane up to Surat and Bharoach (Simkins 1933). These alluvial deposits were earlier estuarine swamps, found all over the region. As mentioned earlier, these are ideal for the production of salt as the seawater regularly inundates them. These swamps being very fertile, if their high saline content is washed out, are also ideal for the cultivation of paddy. Salt production in Maharashtra therefore is concentrated in these northern districts. The salt rice lands are also found in the same region.

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Map 4.1 The spread of alluvium in Panvel, Uran, Pen, Alibag, Murud, and Roha talukas of Raigad district. Source: District Resource Map, Raigad District, Maharashtra, Geological Survey of India 2001.

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Map 4.2 The spread of laterite in northern Ratnagiri district.

Source: District Resource Map, Ratnagiri District, Maharashtra, Geological Survey of India 2001

Role of reclaimed salt marshes in the history of the Agaris There are three historical references to Agaris in association with Kharland reclamation. Two references belong to the fourteenth century and one belongs to the seventeenth century. One of the first references to the Agaris is made in a Marathi inscription dated 1367 A.D. found near the village Nagav, three kilometers south of the town of Alibag in Alibag taluka. The British commenter in his transcription and translation of the inscription along with an explanatory note, states that ‘… the inscription records a trust effected by Sihipro, the Chief Minister of a local Raja in the Konkan, in favour of the local Agarias, i.e. Shudras or Kolis, so termed as they cultivated salt paddy fields and worked in saltpans’ (Doderet 1928: 38). The inscription is about a grant of land made to these Agaria cultivators by the Chief Minister called Sihipro of King Hambiru of Thane, Konkan. A more detailed description of the reclamation of Kharland in this area is available in a study based on the records of the Angre, the rulers of the princely state of Kolaba in northern Raigad (late seventeenth century) (Avalsakar 1962: 10). Avalaskar is of the opinion that although the villages in this region

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have existed since the fourteenth century (ibid.: 1), the reclamation dates to around the beginning of 1700 (ibid.: 69). This contradicts the inference deduced from the Marathi inscription. It is possible that written records of the reclamation prior to 1700 A.D. either did not exist or are lost to us. The 1347 inscription mentioning the Agarias, definitely suggests that reclamation activities were taking place around that time, as agar is the term used for saltpans created by the reclamation of land from the sea. Mahikavatichi bakhar 12 is another document of historical importance where a reference is made to the Agaris. The bakhar refers to the period between the thirteenth and the sixteenth century (Dhere 1973: 49, 87-93). This Marathi chronicle derives its name from a place called Mahim, in Thane district. The bakhar begins with the description of the arrival of a king called Bimba in Thane in the late thirteenth century, who settled and made Mahim as his capital. Mahikavati is Mahim. Agaris and several other castes claim association with this king. The description in the bakhar refers to the northern part of Bombay, called Sashti meaning “sixty-six (sahasashta) villages” (The British called it as Salsette). The end of the bakhar coincides with the arrival of the Portuguese in the early sixteenth century, when they established their control on Sashti. This bakhar provides early evidences of reclaimed (Khar)land, its cultivation and a system of revenue collection associated with it. The system of gates made of stones existed for controlling the letting in and letting out of the seawater. The ruler of Mahim and its surrounding region had levied special taxes for the maintenance of these gates. The same text also notes that Agaris were a part of the multi-caste social set up of the island (ibid.: 56). It is not a coincidence, therefore, that the Agari population is concentrated in this particular region – Mumbai and Raigad. It can be argued that the history of the community is closely linked with the history of the reclamation of land and associated production activities, and with the ecology which made it possible for these activities to thrive in this region.

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4.4 The agrarian society and class and caste structure of nineteenth and twentieth century Maharashtra with special reference to the Konkan British takeover in 1818 and land settlement The present Raigad district includes fourteen talukas, namely Alibag, Uran, Panvel, Karjat, Khalapur, Pen, Sudhagad, Roha, Mangaon, Mahad, Poladpur, Mhasala, Shreevardhan and Murud (see map 3.2 in Chapter Three). The district, then named Kolaba, was formed in 1869, long after the British had set foot in the Deccan and the Konkan. It was renamed Raigad in 1981. The British entered the Konkan region in 1756 A.D. when they acquired two villages, namely Dasgaon and Komal in the Mahad mahal and the Bankot fort from the Peshwa Balaji Bajirao. Gradually they expanded the Bombay presidency by acquiring territories from the various kingdoms and by ceding them to the Presidency. 13 In 1818 A.D. after the famous defeat of the Peshwas, the British gained control over a major part of the Kolaba district Sankshi, Rajpuri and Raigad. In 1839, the Kolaba princely state was acquired by the British after the demise of Kanhoji Angre II. In 1844 it was ceded to the British territory by a special decree. In 1869, Kolaba district was separated from Thane district. Alibag, Pen, Roha, Mangaon and Mahad talukas were a part of the Kolaba district at that time; and in 1883 Panvel taluka and Uran (Karanja) mahal and in 1891, Karjat taluka were included in it. The princely states of Janjira and Bhor were left untouched by the British. Janjira was ruled by the Siddis and Bhor by the Pant-Sachivs. After Independence all the talukas from Janjira and Sudhagad taluka from Bhor state were ceded to the Kolaba district. In 1981, without making any territorial changes, the district was renamed as Raigad (DGR 1993: 1-3; Baden-Powell 1988a: 30-31).

Khoti: a comparison of southern and northern Konkan Many of the northern Indian states had an elaborate feudal system of zamindari. This was not the case in the south. Since there was not a very strong presence of landlords in the Deccan especially in the Konkan when the British introduced their land settlements, they introduced the ryotwari system whereby they dealt directly with the individual landowner cultivator

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(Jaffrelot 2000: 756). Yet, in some parts of the Deccan there were landlords. Many of them were erstwhile revenue officers who had turned into landowners. Before the British In the Konkan there were revenue collectors called khots. The Adilshah of Bijapur in the sixteenth century (DGR 1993: 298; Patel 1950: 106) originally appointed them in the southern part of the Konkan. Khots were not recognized as proprietors by the Adilshah. But during Peshwa rule or even earlier, their position had become quasi-hereditary and Brahmans formed the majority among the khots (Wink 1983: 614-6). By the Khoti Settlement Act of 1880, they were formally recognized as ‘hereditary farmers of revenue’. Recognition as ‘absolute proprietors’ was given to them by the British rulers (Patel 1950: 106-109). The khoti system was also present in the northern districts of the Konkan – Thane and Raigad. Certain peculiarities prevailing here rendered the situation somewhat different from the south. The khots in northern Konkan had not received sanads until the arrival of the British (ibid.: 109). Wink (1983: 614-6) has stated that khots in northern Konkan came to be appointed during the Maratha rule. In any case, these sanads were issued much later than the southern Konkan sanads. Therefore the incidence of khoti was relatively lesser in this region as can be seen from the following table. The khots in the southern Konkan had assumed hereditary rights (vatan), which the northern khots had not (ibid.) Khoti under the British land settlement Table 4.2 Statistical information about existing khoti villages, the areas covered by them, the assessment and jama payable District

No.of

No. of

Gross khoti

Assessment

Annual

Amount

khoti

recognized

Area in

of khoti lands

jama

of khoti

Villages

shareholders

acres

Ratnagiri 952

35,582

14,76,085

5,77,464

5,72,222

9,20,987

Kolaba

3,701

3,53,221

2,68,491

3,75,105

3,52,156

464

faida

Source: (Patel 1950: 101)

The British Government held a survey in the Konkan in 1853 for the settlement of land tenures. This settlement was introduced in 1866 and 1876 in Ratnagiri but the khots of this

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region opposed it vehemently. Due to the failure of the settlement on account of this opposition, another commission was appointed in 1874. On the basis of the commission’s report, the Khoti Settlement Act 1880 was enacted. But this was applied to the Ratnagiri district only and was not extended to Kolaba district ‘presumably because the government did not want to concede more rights to the Kolaba khots’. The Bombay Act I of 1865 which had been opposed by the Ratnagiri khots was applied in Kolaba district (Patel 1950: 110-111). By virtue of these two different acts, the rights and privileges of khots in Ratnagiri and of those in Kolaba differed. Thus, in Kolaba the khot became a farmer of revenue, who secured the payment of village revenues for the government. The Kolaba khots were not recognized as superior-holders and through repeated law-court decisions it was reiterated that the proprietary rights of these khots were limited. The post as the farmer of revenue was also conditional upon the execution of Kabulayat, the decree which awarded khoti rights to any individual. It originally contained only an obligation to pay land revenue to government. Over the years the duties increased for the khot and the government held the right to eject khots if they failed in their duties. The khot was entitled to well-defined payments made by the tenants. And if the land of any tenant remained uncultivated it reverted to the government (ibid.: 116-117). On the other hand, a khot in Ratnagiri was recognized as a superior-holder. The khot’s rights in khoti land became heritable and transferable. The khot gained the right to take over lands held by privileged occupants if the rights were forfeited or lapsed due to the absence of heirs. The surplus that remained after payment of revenue to the government from the rent or tax collected from the kuls (tenants) was the khot’s income referred to as khoti fayada. Khots in the southern Konkan were predominantly Brahmins unlike the northern part of Konkan where several khots were Muslims and a few Agari were khots. They shared marital and kinship ties with the peasant population and did not wield overwhelming power over their tenants as did the southern Konkan khots. They remained more or less servants of the British government.

Pandharpeshe On the other hand, there were tracts of barren marshy lands in the region. The khots were associated with agrarian expansion. This continued to be a feature of the khoti system even under the Angre and Peshwa rule. While the khots played a prominent role in the limited

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reclamation of salt land that happened in Ratnagiri, in Thane and Kolaba the pandharpeshe 14 invested money in the reclamation activity (Wink 1983: 614). For instance, Uran taluka was interspersed with estuarine swamps and wetlands, which could be brought under cultivation. This was the situation as late as the middle of the nineteenth century, during British rule. In the absence of State support, the reclamation of these lands required private financial capital and therefore a class of occupants who had the capital to carry out these activities (Charlesworth 1985: 30). These peculiar circumstances led to the development of a feudal system. The labour required for these reclamation activities was procured by the investors (who were called pandharpeshe) by providing credits to the peasant families (Hardiman 1996: 31). In Uran the peasant families, experienced and skilled in cultivating salt rice lands, were brought from Pen and Alibag talukas for reclaiming barren marshy lands. In and around Chirner, there are several families who still remember that they came from some other villages in search of livelihood. Many of them recall their earlier titles, village of origin and even the route of migration. However, reclamations were also carried out by individual peasants or groups of peasants whereby they came to own the land on an individual basis. In fact, a significant proportion of land remained personally owned by such peasants. The figures from a sample survey conducted in 2005 for 173 households in the village Chirner shows the proportion of families having savkari land. 15 110 households returned information on the distribution of their total land in the categories of savkari and non-savkari land. Nearly sixty-four percent of the households claimed that they had gained at least some portion of their land from a savkar after the abolition of tenancy. But a significant thirty-six percent claimed that none of their land was savkari. Table 4.3 Proportion of households having savkari land (2005) Category

No.

of Percentage

households No Savkari 40

36.36

Land Savkari

70

63.64

110 16

100

Land Total

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Percentage of households having Savkari Land

36.36 No Savkari Land Savkari Land 63.64

Figure 4.1 Percentage of households having savkari land, 2005 Source: Fieldwork 2005

This means that a significant proportion of peasants owned land and were not necessarily tenants attached to a proprietor. Yet the terms of ownership under the British rule had changed significantly. The prominent role that wealthy men who turned savkars gained in this region was not only due to the huge reclamation activities performed in the past. It was also due to the new system of land settlement – ryotwari.

Ryotwari Trimbak Narayan Atre 17 (1989: 12) has observed in his book Gavgada that after the British took over the land administration in this region, the earlier land ownership patterns were replaced by newer ones. Under the ryotwari system, the landowners could sell or buy the land. The rights to own land were decided by the Bombay Land Revenue Act, 1879. According to this act the revenue was to be paid in cash directly to the government. One could sell and lease out land. The land could be confiscated by the government or the usurer if the situation so demanded. This was not possible earlier. Prior to the British rule there were two categories of cultivators - mirasi and upari. The mirasis were recognized as permanent cultivators and it was not possible for the government to easily oust them. It was even more difficult for the savkar to confiscate their land even when they failed to pay the debts. The

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uparis were relatively new cultivators. Their right to cultivation was subject to a contract between them and the government (ibid.: 11-12). The new cash economy paved the way for the alienation of peasants from their own land. It became easier during the British rule as the peasant was illiterate, poor and in need of credit to pay the revenue in cash.

Caste and class society in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries There were substantial overlaps between castes and classes in pre-Independence India (Betéille 1969; Omvedt 1976; Chakravarti 2000; Dhanagare 2005; Gough 2005), although the congruence in the post-Independence era is not so obvious and unambiguous. Betéille’s (1969: 185-225) and Gough’s (2005: 276-287) observations of the congruence of class and caste mainly refer to villages in the Tanjore region of south India. In his description of agrarian classes, Dhanagare identifies certain social groupings that are more likely to occupy certain class positions. But they vary from region to region (Dhanagare 2005: 274-275). While in the north, it was the Brahmans who were the landlords, in Maharashtra for the period of 1920-1950, he observes that the Kunabi Marathas and Deshmukhs were the landed castes and thus locally dominant. Lele (1989: 115-211) makes a similar assertion. Omvedt (1976) and Chakravarti (2000) however, have elaborated the dominance of Brahmans in the political economy of Maharashtra. Omvedt has questioned the view that the Maratha Kunabis in Maharashtra were the dominant caste. She argues that they did become dominant, but only after Independence. This is an important qualification as the dominance of the Maratha Kunabis and of other numerically significant cultivating castes including Agaris is often portrayed in a manner which conceals Brahman and upper caste dominance in Maharashtrian society, without explicitly denying its existence. This is also done by focusing one’s attention at the village level as if villages, where these cultivating and artisan castes are numerically dominant, were removed from the larger political economy of the region, the state and the nation. This viewpoint thus completely ignores the urban dominance of the upper castes.

Maharashtra - classes Omvedt (1976: 73-97) in a comprehensive discussion of Maharashtrian class society identifies the following classes - the Commercial Bourgeoisie, Intelligentsia and Bureaucracy,

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Aristocracy, and Peasants and Workers - and shows from which castes the members of these classes were derived. The Commercial Bourgeoisie The Commercial Bourgeoisie consisted of money-lenders, traders and contractors. Throughout the Deccan the dominant castes in money-lending, trade and landlordship were Brahmans, Gujars and Marwadis (ibid.: 75). The predominance of Brahmans in moneylending should not be surprising as they constituted the class of businessmen and savkars in eighteenth century Maharashtra under the patronage of the Peshwas (Divekar 1982: 436-440). Through financing of wars and government expenses they had emerged as a wealthy class (ibid.: 429-432). As the ruling Peshwas were from the Chitpavan Brahman community, these savkars benefited tremendously. But this was not the only caste which could be included amongst the commercial bourgeoisie. The development of infrastructure such as roads, bridges and buildings was contracted out by the Public Works Department during the British rule. This was a notoriously corrupt department. The most attractive contracts were grabbed by the British, the Brahmans and merchant castes. But a small portion of the contracts also went to men from the low artisan castes, as they had the craftsmanship that was required and also were in an advantageous position in organizing the required skilled labour mostly from their own caste for such contracts (Omvedt 1976: 75). Intelligentsia and the bureaucracy The intelligentsia and the bureaucracy were dominated exclusively by the Brahmans (ibid.: 76-81). They were the majority in institutes of higher education, amongst newspaper editors and writers and the civil service jobs. It was not only through bureaucracy that the Brahmans dominated. Especially in the Deccan, the British policy was to use the traditional institutions as the intermediate systems of administration. Therefore, the traditional offices of kulkarni (traditional village accountant) and patil (village headman) were not discontinued and through them land was administered. The kulkarni was usually a Brahman. This crucial post was replaced later by that of a talathi. But Brahmans continued to occupy this post and many were traditional office holders of the post of kulkarni. Thus, the ‘Brahman dominance…was overwhelming’ (ibid.: 80). As teachers, lawyers, journalists, bureaucrats, talathis and commercial bourgeoisie they continued to dominate the non-Brahman peasantry.

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Table 4.4 Levels of literacy among castes in Maharashtra, 1911, 1921 and 1931 1911 Caste

1921

1931

Percent

Percent

Percent

Percent

Percent

Percent

Literate

English

Literate

English

Literate

English

educated

educated

educated

Agari

2

0.02

2.2

0.05

5.09

0.07

Bhandari

6.1

0.18

NA

NA

NA

NA

Bhil

0.1

0

0.02

0

0.05

0.01

Brahman Chitpavan

35.5

9.72

40.9

8.33

55.21

18.33

Brahman Deshastha

33.4

5.3

40.3

8.14

52.57

14.42

Brahman Gaud

32.6

5.55

35

8.57

45.62

9.38

Koli

2.7

0.01

NA

NA

NA

NA

Shimpi

14.1

0.28

NA

NA

29.56

2.35

Dhobi

2

0.004

2.9

0.08

5.68

0.36

Nhavi

2.1

0.004

NA

NA

12.02

0.60

Koshti

8.9

0.008

11

0.16

17.48

1.06

Kumbhar

2

0.007

1.1

0.03

2.88

0.06

Kunbi

4.9

0.013

NA

NA

NA

NA

Lohar

8.9

0.022

NA

NA

NA

NA

Mali

2.1

0.024

2.3

0.18

8.67

2.01

Mang

0.1

0

0.5

0.01

1.57

0.11

Mahar

0.5

0

1.2

0.06

2.92

0.16

Maratha

2.4

0.011

NA

NA

NA

NA

Panchal

14.9

0.017

NA

NA

NA

NA

Sali

8.6

0.025

10.8

0.77

18.68

1.98

Sonar

11.5

0.024

22

0.79

23.10

0.90

Sutar

5.7

0.012

4

0.16

7.47

0.14

Teli

7.9

0.014

3.8

0.06

7.55

0.20

Vaddar

0.4

0

0.5

0

1.30

0.02

Saraswat

Source: Census of India 1911 (1912: 148-149), and Census of India 1931 (1933a; 1933b: 357)

Chakravarti (2000) points out that the virtual monopoly of Brahmans in Maharashtra in the field of education happened because they had greater access to British-run educational institutions. Even the British were not disinterested in keeping the reach of education confined

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to the Brahmans. In the first half of the nineteenth century, the government schools encouraged the entry of Brahmans and almost discouraged the entry of lower castes which would have driven the Brahmans away from the government schools. It was only through the missionary educational institutions that the lower castes began to gain access to education (Chakravarti 2000: 60). Through this monopoly in the field of education, the Brahmans became the most important constituents of the intelligentsia and bureaucracy. They were also economically dominant at the village level as they were the main landowning caste. Aristocracy The aristocracy consisted of ex-feudatories. Although the ryotwari land settlement was implemented in Maharashtra, the British did retain a class of landlords with the aim of drawing support from them. In the Konkan these beneficiaries were the khots, in Nagpur they were malguzars, in Berar they were jagirdars, and in the Deccan, inams were given to deshmukhs, deshpandes, kulkarnis, patils and other village servants. Even these exfeudatories drew largely from the Brahman castes (Omvedt 1976: 82). There was a section of Marathas in the Deccan and Marathas and Kunabis in Berar and Nagpur who did retain their landholdings. But this class remained away from moneylending, trade and education unlike its Brahman and Marwari counterparts. And they also maintained a separate status from the poorer Kunabis. By donning the sacred thread, prohibiting widow remarriage and restricting marriages with the low-class Kunabis, the Marathas claimed Kshatriya status. It was only in the twentieth century that some of them took to education. There was, however, a class of surviving feudatories, the rulers of the princely states. They came to play a key role in the non-Brahman movement in Maharashtra. Peasantry Rich, middle and poor? The general trend of agriculture in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries was that of stagnation (Omvedt 1976: 84; Guha, Sumit 1985: 149). The peasants and workers were the lowest among all the classes. There are different opinions about the way in which the class of cultivators was divided in early twentieth century Maharashtra. Charlesworth (1985), Ravinder Kumar (1968) and Dhanagare (2005) divide the Indian and specifically the Bombay peasantry into rich, middle and poor peasants and consider them as constituting distinct classes. Omvedt, on the other hand, divides the peasantry into higher class landlords, middle

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class and lower class peasants and landless labourers. The castes which belonged to the higher class landlords were ‘Brahmans, local Vanis, Gujars, Marathas and Dhangars’ (Omvedt 1976: 87). But Omvedt denies the existence of a distinct class of rich peasants (ibid.: 91). She agrees that there was intra-village stratification but maintains that ‘the general village pattern was one of fluidity, and the trend to a rich peasant class had not consolidated’ (ibid.:91-92). This was because the relatively better-off peasants were not a part of the landlord class and they faced the same problems faced by the general peasants (for instance, indebtedness and land alienation). Sumit Guha (1985: 149-158) has also refuted the existence of a rich peasantry in the Bombay countryside. Guha shows that relatively higher landholding did not indicate absence of indebtedness. The so-called rich peasantry did not benefit from famines either. If that was the case there should have been a polarization in landholding. Guha demonstrated through a comparison of distribution of landholdings between 1916 and 1947-48 that, over the period, there was a decrease in the large-size holdings and a corresponding increase in the small-size holding (Guha, Sumit 1985: 154). 18 We can conclude from the above discussion that in the most prosperous regions of Maharashtra, possibly a minority of relatively well-off peasants existed, amongst the massive majority of the non-landlord section of peasantry consisting of small to medium farmers. But they definitely were not so far apart as to form a separate class with different class interests. The pattern among Agari peasants who are from a relatively less prosperous region cannot be different. This is discussed in Chapters Five and Six. In fact, Charlesworth who has otherwise understood the Bombay peasantry in terms of rich, middle and poor peasants, acknowledges that the peasant politics of the Konkan, especially north Konkan represented ‘poor peasant politics’ (Charlesworth 1985: 271-276). Caste and peasantry The distribution of castes among the peasantry is also a matter of debate. Omvedt (1976: 92) has identified two already existing ways of interpretation. The first mode of analysis is represented by Ravinder Kumar (1968) and Charlesworth (1985) who speak of a general class of rich peasants without any reference to caste. The other trend is to argue that the rich peasants were in fact the Maratha Kunabis who were also the ‘dominant caste’ in Maharashtra (Dhanagare 2005; Lele 1989).

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Omvedt (1976: 92-96) questions the concept of ‘dominant caste’ which implies that ‘power is consolidated by a caste group - as opposed to the wealthiest families within that caste – and wealthy landholders of minority castes are excluded from the dominance…’. She rejects this assertion of the ‘dominance’ of the Marathas on the grounds that while this group included some of the wealthiest of the peasants and traditional aristocrats, a large majority of the Maratha-Kunabis was very poor peasants. A similar situation is obtained for most of the other non-Maratha cultivating castes such as Malis, Kolis and Dhangars (Omvedt 1976: 93). A caste wise break up, in Table 4.5, of rent receivers, cultivators and landless labourers clearly shows the caste-class pattern in the early twentieth century.

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Table 4.5 Agricultural occupations of selected Castes, Bombay Province, 1911 Caste

% Rent Receivers % Cultivators % Field Labourers

Chitpavan Brahman

20.5

25.6

-

Deshastha Brahman

20.8

23.1

-

Gaud Saraswat Brahman 21.0

17.1

-

Sonar

-

29.2

-

Agri

2.3

76.1

13.9

Bhandari

-

62.7

10.0

Maratha

1.7

63.8

22.7

Kunbi

-

61.6

29.3

Dhobi

-

38.0

-

Kumbhar

-

31.0

15.0

Mali

-

54.9

29.1

Sutar

-

25.6

12.5

Vanjari

-

53.2

37.7

Mahar, Dhed etc.

-

46.1

30.9

Teli

-

36.0

25.3

Dhangar

-

39.8

33.8

Nhavi

-

26.8

26.1

Koshti

-

4.7

-

Ramoshi

-

36.7

34.9

Varli

-

45.2

46.1

Koli

0.7

39.3

48.0

Chambhar

-

-

24.2

Lohar

-

-

16.9

Mang

-

12.1

52.8

Bhil

-

25.5

66.2

Source: Omvedt 1976: 94

A significant section of the Brahmans were landlords. They formed the topmost layer of the landed gentry. None from the upper castes were field labourers. The field labourers were mainly drawn from the ‘untouchables’ and tribals. In the middle category Agaris and Maratha Kunabis had fewer landless labourers and a small section of rent receivers. Other

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Shudra castes such as Bhandaris, Sutar, Koshti and Sonar also had relatively fewer agricultural labourers. These statistics prove that the proportion of rich peasants among the peasantry was miniscule as compared to the higher castes. A very small class of relatively better-off farmers was probably present in all castes – Maratha Kunabi, low castes and to some extent ‘untouchables’. But the majority of the peasants belonging to these castes were poor and indebted (Omvedt 1976: 96).

Konkan The Deccan and the Konkan: a comparison of caste society The village community in the Deccan consisted of three major categories of caste groups – the alutedar and the balutedar 19 , and the Kunabi (a generic reference term for cultivators or peasants). Atre (1989: 13) mentions that ‘all [castes] relate to the Kunabi as children’. All of the non-Kunabi castes would be divided into two broad categories mentioned earlier – alutedar and balutedar. Balutedars held a prime status in the hierarchy of association with the Kunabi. They received the highest returns for their services as these services were considered essential. According to Atre (ibid.: 14) the castes which generally enjoyed the status of balutedar were Chaugula, Mahar, Sutar, Lohar, Chambhar, Kumbhar, Nhavi, Sonar, Joshi, Parit, Gurav and Koli. These are the bara balutedars (twelve service castes) as the term popularly goes. The services provided by the rest of the castes which were called alutedars were not considered essential and thus their remuneration was less and status lower. Atre (ibid.: 15) points out that these categories and the hierarchical positions of the various castes within them were not uniform all over the Marathi speaking districts and varied from place to place and time to time. Center and periphery: multi-caste and single caste villages The caste society in the Konkan was not as consolidated as it was in the Deccan. Many parts of the northern Konkan did not have the kind of village communities which typified the caste society of the Deccan (Wink 1983: 617). In northern Konkan villages, these alutedar and balutedar castes were conspicuous by their absence – either partial or complete. The caste society of this region displayed a distinct pattern where Agaris were highest in numbers and proportion in Raigad especially in Pen, Alibag, Uran and Panvel talukas (see Appendix I). Usually there would be one or two villages in a group of say fifty or a hundred villages which

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had an almost complete representation of the peasant and the service castes. Uran and Chirner in Uran taluka; Hamarapur and Pen in Pen taluka; Shahabaj, Poynad and Alibag in Alibag taluka; and Apta in Panvel taluka are some of the examples. These multi-caste villages operated as centers for the surrounding villages which were largely Agari villages. The weekly markets would be held in these villages. The schools, which were few and far between, or other prime facilities such as the Post Office, Dispensary or Health Centre would be located in these villages. In the surrounding villages the non-Agari caste population would either be nominal or nil. Even in the multi-caste villages, the representation of various service castes was by no means complete. Prior to Independence, Chirner had some of the service castes – Brahmans, Sonar, Kumbhar, Telis, Mahar, Mang, Lohar and Nhavi. The Sutars and Dhobis were absent. The Sonars, Kumbhars and Mahars, were relatively old inhabitants of the village as they claimed they did not recall having migrated from other villages. But other castes – the Brahman, Mang, Lohar and Nhavi recalled that they had settled in Chirner quite recently. Many of the Brahman families claimed they came in the middle of the nineteenth century from southern Konkan and settled in Chirner. Some of the Brahman families who held land in Chirner resided in Apta - a multi-caste village in the neighbouring Panvel taluka - and visited Chirner only when it was required. The Mahar families presently residing in Chirner village recalled that two Mang families were brought and settled from Apta by the Brahmans. However, they did not make Chirner their permanent residence. The Lohars claimed they had settled in the village in the last three decades or so. Thus, these multi-caste villages of Raigad, did not necessarily resemble the multi-caste villages of the Deccan or even southern Konkan. They were marked by a relatively less prominent presence of Brahmans, and the nominal presence of artisan and ‘untouchable’ castes. While a number of castes and tribal communities present in the north Konkan are not found in other parts of Maharashtra or even in southern Konkan, they form the bulk of the village populations in this region. A majority of these castes and tribes depend upon cultivation or on activities associated with the sea (salt panning and fishing) for a living. Some of these communities have a numerically dominant presence in parts of north Konkan just as Agaris are dominant in selected parts. Vadvals/Malis/Panchkalashis, Kunabis, Tilori Kunabis are some examples. They are all cultivators. The Kolis are the only non-cultivating

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community with a numerical dominance in this region. Therefore, the matrix of social, cultural, economic and political life in this region is unique. Low-key presence of the Brahmans An important feature of the north Konkan region was the relatively low-key presence of Brahmans. There were some low ranking Brahman castes such as Karhade, Shenavi Kirvanta or Palashe. But the highest ranking Brahmans in Maharashtra society have been the Deshastha and Konkanastha Brahmans who were more visible in the Deccan plateau and Southern Konkan. Konkastha Brahmans hail from Ratnagiri district and had a more overwhelming presence there in the past. The Peshwas, who belong to the Konkanastha Brahman community, hail from the southern part of Raigad district. In the seventeenth century, during Shivaji’s rule, they gained some importance when Shivaji appointed a Peshwa as his chief minister. By the eighteenth century, they acquired full control and were ruling the Maratha Empire, making Shivaji’s descendant a nominal head. As the Maratha Empire expanded, the status and power of Peshwas increased and they became and continue be the most dominant community in the social and cultural life of Maharashtra (Chakravarti 2000; Omvedt 1976) The fluid boundaries among the low castes Another feature of the social life of north Konkan is the relatively fluid boundaries, especially among the lower, Shudra castes. The British ethnographic accounts assume these groups to be fixed but closer reading shows that the boundaries were not so obvious a century ago. Even for the colonial administrators it was a difficult task to identify these so-called distinct communities. Clearly here one has a pattern that both concurs with and differs from caste theories discussed earlier. On the one hand, the fluid patterns of caste organization in the preBritish or early British period are visible. However, caste was present and hierarchy made itself felt. In particular, the domination of Brahmans over the low castes is clearly felt and is not an invention of later times. Yet, in this region, there is something unique. The pattern of sanskritization is slow, delayed and incomplete, perhaps even to date. This is because of the specifics of demography outlined here wherein Brahmans are late-comers to this region and are sparsely present. The whole gamut of castes is not visible everywhere and the Agaris are predominant in their villages. Thus they are somewhat at a distance from the overwhelming influence of the high castes and the operation of the caste system in its fullest sense.

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In the regional hierarchy of northern Konkan, one group of castes generically referred to as Prabhus enjoyed a relatively higher position, next to Brahmans. Chandraseniya Kayastha Prabhus are ranked highest among the Prabhus. In the early part of the twentieth century, this community was mainly resident in Thane, Kolaba (Raigad) and Bombay (Enthoven 1975b: 236). They claimed Kshatriya status and asserted that they had come from Oudh in northern India (ibid.: 236-237). Another caste group from this region, Pathare Prabhus, was also classified by Enthoven under Prabhus. The folklore of Pathare Prabhus did not claim any connection with the Chandraseniya Kayastha Prabhus. They also claimed Kshatriya status but their claimed region of origin was Anahilwada, Gujarat (ibid.: 249). There are however, varying accounts and some Pathare Prabhus claim origin from Paithan. Significantly, many of the lower castes in this region, including Agaris also claim their origin from Paithan and association with the legendary King Bimba who migrated from Paithan to the Konkan. Around the late nineteenth century, the numerically prominent Shudra caste groups in this region were Agaris, Bhandaris, Vadvals/Malis/Panchkalashis, Kolis, Kunabis, Tilori Kunabis and Marathas. The Vadvals/Malis/Panchkalashis also identify themselves as Somavanshi Kayastha Prabhus, thus claiming allegiance to the Prabhus. They belong to the Shudra varna and for them, the Kshatriya status-claiming community of Prabhus provided a role model. Apart from these castes there were a number of artisan castes – Shimpis, Kasars, Kumbhars, Sonars, Nhavis and Parits. The shepherd castes were Dhangars and Gavlis. Fishers and sailors were Gabits, Bhois and Kharvas. Tribes were Katkaris, Thakurs, Vadars and Vanjaris. ‘Untouchable’ castes were Bhangis, Mahars and Mangs (Gazetteer of India 1964: 149-153). The caste clusters The numerically prominent castes are largely cultivators of one kind or the other and can be arranged in three clusters. Each caste-cluster is centered on three different occupations horticulture, fishing and agriculture. Interestingly, Agaris occupy a position where these three clusters overlap. The horticulturist castes are Panchkalashis, Vadvals, Sutars, Malis and Bhandaris. Enthoven (1975b: 160) mentions that among Panchkalashis, ‘the members go under very different names’. That is because Panchkalashi is also used as an umbrella term. Vadvals or Sutars according to Enthoven are the subdivisions of the caste. They are also known as Malis.

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Another generic name taken up by this community in their bid for a higher social status is Somvanshi Kshatriya Pathare or Somvanshi Kshatriya Prabhu (The Prabhus/Pathares of the Kshatriya lunar lineage). Bhandaris were owners of the palm groves and followed the traditional occupation of toddy-tapping. Kolis are the fisher-folk from northern Konkan. They occupy the coastal villages. Karadis are fisher-folk and also cultivators of salt paddy fields like Agaris. Kunabis, the caste of peasants, is a highly ambiguous category with a large population spread over the state of Maharashtra. There are several subsections within this broad category. 20 Although a majority of Kunabis today claim to be Maratha and thereby claim a higher ritual and social status, the Shahannav Kuli Marathas 21 are careful enough to separate themselves from the lowly labouring section of Kunabis. By way of occupation, there was ample scope for mobility within the broader caste clusters. Between the caste clusters also this fluidity existed but on a limited scale. One can argue, as some of my informants did, that in fact these caste groups have emerged due to occupational diversification within a relatively homogenous parent population. Agaris, due to their association with salt-making and agriculture, have occupied a place where these three caste clusters intersect.

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Horticulture

Vadval Panchkalashi Mali Sutar Bhandaris

Agari

Koli Karadi Fishing Fishing

Kunabi, Tilori Kunabi, Maratha Agriculture

Figure 4.2 A diagrammatic representation of the fluidities of boundaries among various cultivating, fishing and horticulturists castes

Even today the Agaris tend gardens of fruits and vegetables in some places across Raigad and Thane districts. Mali, as a caste name, is not used at least consciously by Agaris to identify themselves. But the way it is used in the Agari marriage songs, it appears more like a generic term indicating the fluidity between the Agari and Mali/Panchkalashi identity. In the Alibag taluka not only the salt-pans, but also a garden of coconut and betel nut trees, is called agar. The Raigad district gazetteer attributes the origin of the caste name Agari to the profession of gardener (DGR 1993: 225). The overlaps between Kolis, Agaris and Karadis are even clearer. Fishing remains the main occupation of the Kolis but it is not exclusive to them. Salt-making, salt land paddy cultivation which remains the prerogative of the Karadis and Agaris also brings them in close association with sea. Karadis were not identified as a separate caste group by Enthoven, when he conducted the ethnological survey in Bombay Presidency, in the early part of nineteenth century. They were identified as a subgroup of Agaris by Kale (1950: 11). 22 Although Enthoven identifies Agaris separately, also mentions

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Agaris and Karadis as a sub-section of the Kolis (Enthoven 1975a; Enthoven 1990: 245). Today Agaris, Kolis and Karadis identify themselves as separate caste groups. Kunabi is a caste name today. But it was and is still used in the local parlance in Raigad district and elsewhere as a generic term to refer to a peasant. The Agari peasant often refers to himself as a Kunabi, so as to imply his peasant status. This permeability of boundaries among these groups is visible even today if we focus our attention on the Koli¸ Karadi and Agari castes. They together form a cultural complex which displays some interesting features. Let us take a closer look at it. This is also important because, in the following chapters there are some instances where I have looked at the interactions between Agaris and Karadis rather closely. I do so because the interactions between the groups are illustrative of the way in which group identities may be formed and guarded. My informants also consciously or subconsciously hinted that these boundaries were earlier not so rigid. At the very beginning of my fieldwork, an old informant, stated to me that although today the differences between Agaris, Karadis and Kolis are emphasized, there must have been a time when these were not distinct caste groups. Karadis can identify forty-six villages in the district of Raigad inhabited by them, although these days for education and work they have started moving to cities and towns. Some villages have been exclusively inhabited by Karadis whereas in some villages there are other castes as well. These villages are scattered in five talukas of Raigad district – Panvel, Uran, Pen, Roha and Alibag. They have a still active caste council which governs through smaller councils operating at the village level. One of my informants told me that there are seven more villages within the district of Raigad inhabited by Karadis – they must have shared and perhaps even today share kinship ties with other Karadis. But these days, the Karadis belonging to these villages are not considered a part of the general Karadi population. They are called Kolis. Some of these seven villages have names which associate them with the Kolis e.g. Panvel Koliwada or Kalyan Koliwada. This social distancing is taking place because the chief occupation of these villages is fishing, which is considered lowly by other Karadis. Yet this particular lowly section of Karadis has the honourable duty of carrying the palanquin of goddess Ekvira. 23 An illustration of the fuzziness of these boundaries was brought to me during the fieldwork by an interesting incident. In one of the marriages that I attended among the Karadis I was introduced to a young Agari couple which had come all the way from Pen

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taluka to attend the wedding. The host, father of the groom, introduced me to the husband. As we were talking, the young Agari man told me that his and the bridegroom’s father’s grandmothers were sisters. I was surprised to know this as their castes were different. When I asked about it, he realized that he had made a mistake by revealing the relation; and then stated instead that they were just family friends and not relatives. I did not probe further, but could make out that some two generations back there were marriages taking place between the groups which today claimed separate status as different castes. Either these groups were different even at that time but marriages across these groups were not considered a taboo (which were either arranged matches or love matches), or the groups themselves were not clearly differentiated and thus marriages between them were fairly normal. Thus, while the Brahman and the non-Brahman are clearly, hierarchically defined, within the non-Brahman group there is more ‘clustering’ than strict hierarchy and this was more so in the past. The hierarchical structure of the castes system has emerged over time and is not a complete/fixed structure at any point. Historical analysis makes us aware of these dynamics.

Uran The present Uran taluka is divided in two parts viz. Uran east and Uran west. These two parts are separated by the Karanja (Khopta) creek which runs north/south and intersperses the eastern part with a number of smaller estuaries. People of Uran also identify these two geographical regions within the taluka, which differ in terms of cultural and social characteristics. The Uran west part is occasionally referred to as mahalan vibhag (during the British times and earlier it enjoyed the status of mahal – a small and separate administrative unit. Vibhag means ‘part’) by members of the older generation. The eastern part, on the other hand, is referred to as Uran poorva (eastern). Eastern Uran was a part of Panvel taluka and was later merged with Uran mahal, present western Uran, to form Uran taluka. Before 1883, Panvel and Uran mahal were a part of Thane district. In 1883 they were ceded to the newly formed Kolaba district which was formed in 1869. Although Chirner, my site of fieldwork, is in eastern Uran and therefore we are directly concerned with eastern Uran, let us take a comparative overview of the two parts in terms of history of political rule and social and economic life. There is scant historical evidence with specific reference to Uran. The Mora village in Uran west is associated with the

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later Mauryas who ruled this region during the fourth and seventh century A.D. (DGR 1993: 110). We know that several dynasties ruled this region and often fought among themselves for its control. In the more recent history there was a constant struggle between the Nizamshahi dynasty, the Adilshahi dynasty, the Marathas, the Peshwas, the Portuguese, the Siddis, the Angres and later on the British. Western Uran was under Portuguese control from 1509 A.D. to 1739 A.D. It was a part of the larger territory which included Bombay, Salsette (sashti) and Bassein (vasai). In and around 1739, this territory was won over from the Portuguese by the Peshwa Balaji Bajirao. The Portuguese were ousted from the region and they remained confined to Goa until it was freed in 1961. Although, after 1739, western Uran came under the control of the Peshwa, it did not remain with them for long. In 1818 the British successfully and decisively defeated the Marathas and gained control of the Konkan and western Maharashtra. Western Uran had been a prosperous region. It was close to Bombay. The saltpans of western Uran gave it its reputation of being the highest salt-producing taluka in Maharashtra. In addition, it was also a center of liquor production. Uran city was a center of trade and commerce, more so because of its proximity to the markets of Bombay. The city corporation of Uran was established as early as 1867. 24 Unlike the eastern part of Uran, it also had a greater variety of caste groups. There was a large population of Kolis, the fisher folk, in the villages near the sea. Villages like Karanja and Mora are known as Koli or fishing villages. In the southern part some villages near the sea have a sizeable population of castes such as Chaukalashis, Panchkalashis, Prabhus and Brahmans. There was also a strong presence of Muslim and Marwari traders and businessmen. The town of Uran was the centre for these wealthy traders. Many of them had grown rich by the trade of salt, liquor and paddy. They owned vast tracts of land in villages not only in western but also in eastern Uran. This land was either under paddy cultivation or under saltpans. Yet, a majority of the villages in this region were predominantly inhabited by Agaris. During the summer, they worked in saltpans and during the monsoon, cultivated paddy. In some villages like Nhave and Sheve they have also earned a living through the collection and sale of pearls. The history with respect to political rule in Uran east remains ambiguous. It was a part of Panvel taluka, which during most of the period prior to colonial rule was under the control of the Nizam and Marathas. Uran east, which was divided from the western part by a creek running from Khopata upto Panvel, had comparatively fewer saltpans. Some were along the

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banks of the creek upto the village of Vindhane (In Govathane, Pale, Khopate, Pandive, Koproli and Chirner. The saltpan in Chirner has been closed down). The nearest centre of markets and other facilities for the villagers from this region has been in the past and even now continues to be either Uran or Panvel. This region was thus predominantly rural with no urbanization whatsoever. As this region did not have a proper coastline, Kolis are present only in a few villages and in very small numbers. These villages are Koproli, Dighode, Aware and Govathane, which are either near the sea front or have access to it through a navigable creek. Unlike western Uran, there are no Koli villages. Villages here were and still are predominantly inhabited by Agaris; in many, the entire population is Agari. We have already noted that there were Brahmans, Sonars, Kumbhars, Vanis, Marwaris, Mahars and Mangs in some prominent villages, such as Chirner. The profile of the region has not altered significantly. This region also had and continues to have a presence of tribes such as Katkaris and Thakurs especially in villages that are close to forests. Prior to Independence, most of the land, either under cultivation or under salt production, was owned by Muslim landlords or Brahman, Sonar, Bene Israeli (Jew) Telis and Marwari savkars. A few among the Agaris also owned large tracts of land. They, like their non-Agari counterparts, were referred to either as savkars or as khots depending upon whether they lent money or not and upon the amount of land they held.

4.5 Conclusion The discussion so far has set the larger socio-political context for the following chapters which are more focused in terms of the region and the community. From an understanding of the political developments, the ecology of salt marshes, land administration, caste and class society of the Konkan and specifically northern Konkan region, roughly as it was over a period of last seven hundred years, we now move on to focus on the Agaris of Raigad district in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. I have highlighted that the ecological peculiarity of salt marshes and the Agari peasant’s role in adapting that feature to the needs of the society was a deciding point not only in the history of their identity but also in the evolution of the caste and class structure in the region. The moneyed class, constituted by the Brahmans gained a supreme hold over the land (nineteenth century) in this region but that was a delayed process. The caste society of this region thus exemplified some unique features where although the caste hierarchy was not absent, the hierarchical structure within the non-

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Brahman castes was more fluid and permeable in nature, more so earlier. We have thus seen how a historical analysis lends greater nuance and complexity to the ideas of the caste structure and the caste system. What emerges is a view of caste as a “process”. The dynamics of this process with respect to the Agaris and their relationships to other groups in the region will be further analyzed in the next chapter. In the following chapter we trace the trajectory of the political developments in Raigad district with special reference to the Agaris. The peasant identity of the community, we can see, is a focal point in their political mobilization throughout.

1

There are corresponding revenue divisions for these regions; Konkan, Pune, Nashik, and Aurangabad are the

revenue divisions which correspond respectively with the Konkan, Western Maharashtra, Uttar Maharashtra and Marathwada regions. The Amravati and Nagpur divisions together constitute the Vidarbha region. 2

The first Marathi text, a biography of the Mahanubhav saint Chakradhar, Lilacharitra, appeared during the

Yadava rule. The Mahanubhav sect was a precursor to and later a contemporary of the Varkari cult which held strong influence from the twelfth century onwards. The text is a rich source of information on the social and cultural life of Maharashtra. It reveals that the caste society had consolidated during the Yadava rule. The Mahanubhav sect had a large following, especially among the ‘untouchable’ communities, due to its radical approach towards caste and gender discrimination (Vaidya 1992). The thesis of ‘invention of caste’ by the British colonizers (Inden 1990, Dirks 1987, Raheja 1987) becomes contentious by these and other instances of history. 3

It was a vast empire covering almost the entire southern India founded by Harihar and Bukka in the first half of

the fourteenth century (Chopra 1981: 37). 4

Later in the chapter we shall see how the tenure system of khoti introduced by the Adilshah continued, although

in altered forms till the end of British rule. 5

Malik Ambar was an Ethiopian slave who rose to become an able chief minister and later the regent of the

Nizamshahi at the turn of the sixteenth century. ‘Malik Ambar made the settlement direct with the village instead of with the district hereditary revenue superintendents and accountants, the deshmukhs or desais and the deshpandes. The village head-men were made hereditary and responsible for the village rental. An average or normal payment called the tankha was fixed for each plot of land surveyed, and for each village. This system combined two merits of a moderate and certain tax and the possession by the cultivators of an interest in the soil.’ (http://www.maharashtra.gov.in/english/gazetteer/Ahmednagar/agri_tenancy.html viewed on 1st July 2007) 6

http://www.maharashtra.gov.in/english/gazetteer/WARDHA/his_mediaeval%20period.html viewed on 1st July

2007. 7

In the middle of the fifteenth century, a large number of east African slaves came to India and were known as

habashis. Malik Ambar was also one of them. They were also known as Siddis. They were brought as slaves but they settled in India and established themselves as skilled and efficient sailors. Malik Ahmad, the founder of

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Nizamshahi, had appointed these habashi Abyssinian sardars as the heads of the Janjira Naval Fort in 1490 A.D. They emerged as another power center and were called the Siddis of Janjira. 8

Angres were the dynasty of a local kingdom established by the naval admiral of Shivaji, Kanhoji Angre. The

princely state of Kolaba, in northern Raigad was ruled by them from the late seventeenth century. 9

The salinity of the soils can be estimated with the help of Ph meter, electrical conductivity bridge and the

measurement of dissolved salt in a land. Sweetland is non-saline land. Kharland is saline land reclaimed from the sea. A special category of land affected by inland salinity also exists. This is land which is rendered infertile or low in fertility due to excess use of fertilizers and abundant use of water. The areas of green revolution in Punjab and Haryana and the sugarcane belt in Maharashtra are facing the problem of inland salinity.

Electirical

Sweetland

Kharland

Inland saline land

1

< 15%

< 15%

> 15%

6.5-7.5

6.5-7.5

> 7.5

Conductivity Exhangeable Na Ph (calcium content)

Source: Information provided by the Kharland Research Center, Panvel, Raigad 10

All of these terms refer to salt land paddy fields but each has a slightly different meaning and can be

considered a part of the technical terms used in the Agari dialect to refer to various nuances of this form of land management. Kharepat is a term used to refer to a large region which has salt land paddy fields covering several villages and even talukas. The contiguous villages having salt land paddy fields from Alibag and Pen taluka of Raigad district are together referred to as kharepat region. Khalati refers to vast stretches of salt lands relatively smaller in size. It literally means ‘low lying’ and the opposite of khalati is valati. Valati means ‘high land’. Since, usually the Kharlands lie on the western slopes and therefore at a lower level than the villages and nonsalt land and villages are situated on higher ground, khalati has become a synonym for Kharland. Khar is derived from khadi and both the words mean creek. Khar also indicates the saline taste. Salt marshes are referred to as khar or khajan. But the salt marshes after making them cultivable continue to be referred to as khar. But the word khajan is reserved only for the salt marshes or creeks. The small stretches within a large salt marsh area have specific names with the khar suffix attached to them, for example- dudhi khar and kal ghubadchi khar. Several villages derive their names from the khar reclaimed in their vicinity, for ex. Borkhar, Kharpale, Khar Pada, Sonkhar and so on. Kotha is also the same as khar, the only difference being that kotha is reserved for the reclaimed and cultivable land. In the Agari dialect, the process by which a land is walled from the sea and rendered cultivable by removing its salinity is called kotha padane. A large tract of land to the West of a village (Taki) was called Harishchandra kotha probably after the savkar called Harishchandra, who invested money to reclaim that land. 11

‘The close of the Mesozoic era was marked by the outpouring of enormous lava flows which spread over vast

areas of Western, Central and Southern India. They issued through long narrow fissures or cracks in the earth’s crust,

from

a

large

magma

basin

and

therefore

(http://www.ias.ac.in/epsci/dec2001/Esb32.pdf ) viewed on 23rd June, 2007.

called

fissure

eruptions….’

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115

The rulers in Maharashtra had a practice of getting chronicles written. These chronicles were called bakhar.

Many of these chronicles are rich in social, economic and political details. Although some bakhars are known for their accuracy and authenticity, they are eulogies and therefore may lack in accuracy. 13

The emergence of Presidencies under British rule presents an interesting feature of the evolution of British

Administration in India. The first settlements of the East India Company were mere ‘factories’ for trading purposes, namely the settlements of Surat (A.D. 1613), Fort St. George (A.D. 1640) and Bengal (A.D. 1698). These factories then became settlements and were governed by a ‘President and a Board’. In due course, the other dependent factories or outstations that grew were considered a part of the ‘Presidency town’. Baden-Powell (1988a: 30-31) accords the emergence of the three Presidencies of Bengal, Bombay and Madras to this course of events. Every Presidency had forces attached to it and all the territories that were conquered were initially attached to the Presidency whose force had conquered it. 14

Literally means, those with white collar jobs, pandhar – white, pesha – jobs. This class of people consisted

mainly of the Brahmans. See also Omvedt (1976: 4) 15

The land gained from the savkar after Independence, following the abolition of tenancy is called savakari land

by the peasants. I have retained the term and called the privately owned land non-savkari. 16

Out of the total 173 households 20 were landless. Therefore they were not included in this table. Out of the

rest 153, 43 households did not furnish any information regarding savkari and non-savkari land. Thus, calculations were done only for 110 households. 17

Trimbak Narayan Atre held the office of Mamaledar, the Chief Officer of the taluka Department of Revenue

under the British Government. His book Gavgada published in 1915 is considered a classic both for its literary value and its unparalleled and firsthand understanding of the socio-economic life of the Marathi-speaking region. He states in his introduction to the book that he obtained the insight into the village life of this region while collecting material for the Ethnographical Survey of the Bombay Presidency under the supervision of the British Civil Servant E.R. Enthoven. He was trained by Enthoven in the methods of ethnographic data collection. He gained a thorough understanding of the rural way of life through his interaction with the rural folk. A good part of his material did not directly go into the survey report and has appeared in this book. It is a rare documentation and commentary of early twentieth century caste society of Maharashtra. 18

Bruce Robert (1983: 59-60) also shows how inferences of Washbrook and Baker about the ‘rural magnet elite’

fail in case of the dry districts of Madras Presidency. Through an analysis of early 20th century statistics of a ‘dry’ district from Madras Presidency, he shows that there was hardly any polarization. Or even if such a rich class of peasants existed, there was a considerably large section of small farmers (Robert 1983: 62). Like Guha, he also demonstrates how over the years, the tendency in the dry districts was that of increasing land equality (Robert 1983: 65-66). These small farmers were not necessarily dependent on and controlled by these ‘rich peasants’. He demonstrates this through the patterns of creditors and debtors and patterns of crop-selection. A more recent study of Sharad Joshi’s farmers’ movement of 1980s by Cornelia Lenneberg (1988) suggests that there is a tendency to look at the support of this movement as mainly coming from rich farmers of Deccan. This, she argues, is not true. A majority of the farmers from Western Maharashtra who extend their support to Sharad Joshi are small or middle farmers. The fact that they cultivate cash crops and sell them in markets has, according

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to her, given rise to the assumption that these are rich farmers. However, she shows that many of them are subsistence farmers, who derive additional income through cash crops to substantiate their incomes. 19

Balutedari is the system of exchange similar to the northern jajmani system. The service castes which serve

the agriculturist receive agricultural product in return. The service castes are called balutedars. The formal understanding of association between specific families is called balute. 20

Tilori Kunabis are from Ratnagiri and southern part of Raigad. Talheri Kunabis are from Thane. Kale Kunabis

are from Karnataka and Khandesh Kunabis are from northern Maharashtra with several subdivisions (Enthoven 1990). 21

The select group of 96 lineages who consider themselves of higher birth and thus neither dine nor intermarry

with others. 22

‘Agris: a socio-economic survey’ by D. N. Kale, a Ph. D. thesis published in 1950 offers an important vantage

point to look into the social and economic life of Agaris. The fieldwork for the thesis was conducted in 1947-48, when the land reforms were yet to take place. Thus it offers a snapshot of the community when the land was still in the hands of a few landlords and savkars. Although I have drawn from the thesis I have also supported my arguments with evidence from the field. This was important because the fieldwork done by Kale was mainly in the Alibag taluka of Raigad district. Although there is a discernible pattern across various regions in the social, cultural and economic life of the community, there are also obvious differences. 23

The goddess resides in the mountain of Karla, situated in the ranges of the Western Ghats. Although Ekvira

has a stronger presence among the Kolis, the Karadis and Agaris also worship her. In fact most of the communities from the northern Konkan, including the high ranking Prabhus revere this goddess. That among Karadis, a section identified as Kolis and considered lowly, holds the right to carry her palanquin, hints towards the permeability of boundaries. 24

Uran Nagarpalika Shatsavantsari Mahotsav Smriti Grantha (The souvenir published on the occasion of

completion of hundred years of Uran town corporation) 1967.

Chapter Five The politics of land 5.1 Introduction We saw in the previous chapter that a significant ecological feature of this region of Raigad district is Kharland. The labour of the Agari peasantry 1 in the context of Kharland was employed not only for tilling the land but also for reclaiming it. All peasants tend land, and usually it can be undertaken on a very small scale by an individual peasant, and crop cultivation commences immediately. Kharland reclamation on the other hand is a long drawn project. 2 Those Agari peasants who reclaimed land from the sea did not always own it. The dominant class of rent-receivers within the Agari peasantry was a minority category of betteroff landholders who received rent from tenants (see Table 4.5 in Chapter Four). 3 We saw that there had emerged a class of landed gentry constituted by khots, landlords, savkars and pandharpeshe in this region. Even when peasants owned land, the situation was such that alienation from land could happen very easily. Yet, unlike their counterparts in the southern Konkan districts, they did retain a share in ownership of the land. The land was also richer in terms of fertility compared to land in the southern districts (Charlesworth 1985: 275). The politics of the community, therefore, during much of the pre-Independence period, remained

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centered around the issue of land and its ownership. The Agari peasantry, as we shall see, was a militant one. 4 This is evident from the various struggles that Agari peasants took up against the savkarshahi and khoti in their villages. 5 However this militancy is to be viewed with reference to the Agari leadership of that time, the non-Brahman movement 6 of Maharashtra during the early twentieth century, the nationalist movement of the Indian National Congress, the political economy of British-ruled India and also the larger economic and political developments at the international level. Later in the post-Independence period the context was formed by the Shetkari Kamgar Paksha, the Maharashtra state and the new political economy of the globalized world. Narayan Nagu Patil (1891-1968) 7 was a notable leader from the Agari community in Kolaba (now Raigad) during the late 1920s and throughout the 1930s and onwards. This is not to say that activism among Agaris was absent before his arrival. But with him, educated as he was, the community got a political representative who was articulate and able to plead for issues in the elected council. He played an important role in the peasant struggles that took place during the period. It was through him that the community came to be associated with the Brahmanetar Paksha (an important opposition party in the Bombay Presidency during those times), Ambedkar and his Independent Labour Party and, finally, the leadership of Shetkari Kamgar Paksha (Peasants and Workers Party, henceforth SKP). This chapter is, thus, an attempt to sketch a broad picture of the Agari peasantry through its politics centered on land. In section 5.2, I begin with the peasants’ struggle against khoti and other forms of landed gentry during the pre-Independence times, and various modes in which the peasants expressed their dissent against the exploitation by the landlords. Strikes, electoral politics, and social banditry were some of the prominent ways. In section 5.3, I discuss that post-Independence, the aspirations of the peasantry were realized as the land reforms were implemented. It was because of the presence of a vibrant politicized peasantry that the land reforms became successful in the region. The saltpan lands, however, escaped the Abolition of Tenancy Act as these were government lands let out on lease to the salt producers. The issues of wages and working conditions of the saltpan workers thus also remained on the agenda of the Shetkari Kamgar Paksha. In section 5.4, I discuss that just when the tenants were becoming the rightful owners of land, a process was started by the government, by which the alienation of land from its tillers took place with full force. This time, it was in the name of urban development. Initially, the peasants retaliated against the

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acquisition and later against the paltry remuneration that they were receiving for it. The peasant struggle turned violent. Finally, the land was acquired and the new urban development brought far reaching changes – economic and social – in the region. During the 1970s the peasantry was still very poor, and kind rather than cash characterized the modes of exchange. In section 5.5 we see that with the land having become a commodity in the 1980s, the earlier modes of transaction were replaced by an economy where money played an increasingly prominent role. Politics became a commercial enterprise. A nexus of politicians, construction businessmen and estate agents emerged to systematically misappropriate land and increase the value of the land due to the urbanization policy. Recently, Special Economic Zones proposed in this region have generated a new drive for land acquisition. Consequently, land prices have soared like never before. Even then there is growing unrest among the peasants because of lack of transparency and no State policy to safeguard their interest permanently.

5.2 Politics of land: the peasant struggle against tenancy (1920 – 1948) Khoti Tenure and the system of land administration The history and incidence of tenures such as ryotwari, khoti and of tenancy in other forms has been discussed earlier (Chapter Four). The British, had no genuine interest in the cultivators and therefore, favoured the system of land administration through non-cultivating landowners, fostered by usurping the rights of the tilling masses. As a consequence the land had become saleable. The effects of such a system had started showing up and the peasants’ reaction to it came as early as the 1920s. The first peasant strike took place in 1922 in the Pen taluka of Kolaba district. Here are obvious parallels to the descriptions of Scott (1976) where he shows how the pressures created by the colonial economy had started mounting on the peasants (see footnote 4). The contract (produced below) signed by the peasants of Pen-Vashi region shows how even a tenancy arrangement had certain subsistence claims attached to it. Scott (1976: 35-36) had argued that a tenant may be poorer in terms of income as compared to a wage labourer in a good labour market situation, but he was always better off in terms of security. That these

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securities were weakening and peasants were struggling to ensure them is evident from this document related to the peasant strike of 1922.

1920s: the Agari peasants and the struggle against khoti As early as 1922, a strike 8 of Agari peasants in Pen Vashi region took place under the leadership of Hiru Mahadu Mhatre, an Agari peasant from Vashi (Patil, Y. 1988; also see Charlesworth 1985: 274 for a description of this strike). It continued for three years. The strike was not a spontaneous outburst of agitated peasants, but a meditated, planned and organized struggle against the savkars of Pen taluka. This is evident from the documents related to this incident. In September 1921, the caste leaders (elected or nominated and customarily bestowed with quasi legal authority to resolve disputes; normally a group of five and referred to as panch) from different villages made a formal written contract with people from different villages of Pen taluka. This contract was signed by around sixty-seven leaders of different villages. The points on which the villagers had agreed to abide were as follows – 1. Consumption and sell [sic] of liquor is against the principles of caste and religion 2. Nobody should till land of others 3. If a land is to be sold it should be bought by the tenant 4. If the tenant is not willing to buy it then it is open to others for purchase 5. If buying the land is not possible for the tenant, the panch should investigate and then give permission to the third party to buy the land. But the land should be leased out to the tenant who was earlier tilling the land. 6. Any issue related to land and cultivation that emerges with a caste fellow would be resolved through the caste panchayat (a formal institute of panch) 7. Would have no relation whatsoever with any individual declared outcaste [by the caste council]. We people of respective tarfas 9 agree with the respective leaders assigned to our tarfa We have read all the rules made by the caste panchayat and we accept them 1. Now onwards we would accept whatever rules the caste leaders make according to the situation 2. We accept the sanctions that would be passed against those who in any way break the caste rules. All the resolutions mentioned above have been written by our own willingness Source: (Patil, Y. 1988)

The second, third and fourth points show that there was recognition of the rights of a tenant to the land. These rights originated either due to the fact that the tenant was the original owner of the land and had become tenant due to some financial crisis, or due to long association as a tenant with the land. Thus, nobody other than the original tenant was to till the land. The right to buy such land was also reserved, in the first instance, for the tenant. In

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case the tenant was not able to buy the land and someone else bought it, he still retained the right to tenancy. Scott (1976: 44-52) mentions other subsistence claims that the tenants had on their patron such as ‘right to subsistence’ and ‘reciprocity’. Although Scott does not really consider the issue of the right of a tenant to the land, it can be seen as part of the right to subsistence. Y. P. Patil (1988) explains this document as an example of ‘social sanction’ that was based on the principle of the ‘land belongs to the tiller’ (in Marathi kasel tyachi jamin), which is also the basis of the Abolition of Tenancy Act. This principle was a part of the Agari peasants’ sense of ‘morality’, to use Scott’s term. The other main demand of the strikers was reduction in the rent charged to the tenant. Y. Patil in his article states that the strike was successful in reducing the rent from two-third of the produce to half the produce. The exploitation of peasants at the hands of khots and savkars had been an issue for a long time. In fact, since 1880, several members of the legislative assembly had raised their voice against the khoti system. In 1922 and 1925 S. K. Bole had brought forth a recommendation that the tenants should be protected. But the government of Bombay was not ready to take up the cause of tenants. In 1931, S. K. Bole once again raised the issue, but it was met with a promise which was never fulfilled (Phadake 1993: 40). Although Narayan Nagu Patil was aware of the strike mentioned above he was not directly involved in it. He was very young then and was just beginning his career as a social and political activist. But he had published a letter in one of the conservative and anti-peasant dailies in the region in support of the strike. Patil came to be associated with the Brahmanetar Paksha in 1930, after he won the Legislative Council election from the Kolaba constituency. On 2nd and 3rd May 1931, the annual meet of the Bramhanetar Paksha was held in Shahabaj 10 in Alibag taluka in Kolaba. This was the fourth meeting of the party. N. N. Patil was the president of the Reception Committee. In his address, he discussed the problems of Agari/Kunabi tenants and called for a legislation that would protect the tenants. However, the resolutions passed during this meeting were not acted upon (Phadake 1993: 261).

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1930s: The fallout in Brahmanetar Paksha, Ambedkar’s Independent Labour Party and the Agari peasant strikes Peasant strike in Chari, Alibag Scott (1976: 114-120) describes the economic crisis that the peasant households faced in the decade of the 1930s due to the depression. Despite this, the state and the landholder pressed their claims to the fixed rent given by the tenant. This, Scott argues, was done mainly for two reasons. On the one hand, the landlords/moneylenders were themselves in debt. On the other hand, the colonial state had also lost its revenue through excise taxes and custom duties due to the depression and, when needed, had used coercive means to extract the rent. Thus, the state and the landlord both pressed their claim for the rent which, in an already precarious situation, meant disaster for the peasant. In our context, the landlords from Chirner and its surrounding region also had pressed their claims to the rent and used several coercive means to extract as much share of the crops as possible (see Chapter Six, section on savkarshahi). The depression served the ‘coup de grâce’ to an already fragile economy (Scott 1976: 114). It added to the plight of the peasants due to a fall in the prices of agricultural products. This created the grounds for peasants’ and workers’ agitations in the years to follow. The decade of the 1930s was a turbulent one as peasant uprisings were witnessed all over the world (Scott 1976: 114-156; Charlesworth 1985: 270-271) and across India. In Kolaba district, the peasants’ unrest forced the political parties and their leaders to take note of them. In turn, peasant politics was also influenced by the agendas of the various political parties. Till 1930, N. N. Patil was affiliated with the Congress. By the 1930 Legislative council elections, the rift between him and the Congress started showing. The Congress had boycotted these elections but N. N. Patil chose to contest the election. As an elected member, he came to be associated with Brahmanetar Paksha. The Paksha had gained from the Congress’s absence in the elections (Patil N. 1994: 29-32). In 1932, in the elected council N. N. Patil had demanded upto 33% concession to the farmers in the rent to be paid as prices had fallen by 30-40% (Phadake 1993: 28). But the Brahmanetar Paksha had started disintegrating during this period. During the civil disobedience movement, many stalwarts from the Brahmanetar Paksha shifted their support to the Indian National Congress. In the Brahmanetar Paksha, the differences among non-Brahmans i.e. between Marathas and non-Marathas had started surfacing (Phadake 1993: 262). In 1935, during the annual meet of the party, a demand

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was made to evenly distribute the seats reserved for the non-Brahmans among other nonMaratha castes such as Kunabi, Dhangar, Mali, Bhandari, Agari and Shimpi. Within the party Dongarsing Patil (Leva Patil by caste), Bole (Bhandari), and N. N. Patil (Agari) were fighting this issue out (Phadake 1993: 265). However, N. N. Patil and other non-Maratha leaders such as S. K. Bole 11 did not follow the Maratha leaders who joined the Congress. 12 Instead, they chose to join Ambedkar and his Independent Labour Party (ILP). This was also because Ambedkar, who was spearheading the Dalit movement in Maharashtra, was also becoming actively involved in the issues of peasants and workers. In Kolaba district, his involvement was with the Tilori Kunabi and Agari peasants. This was even before he had established the ILP in 1936. The severe discontent that was simmering among the tenant farmers in the Konkan peaked sharply with the presence of Ambedkar and several leaders actively involved in the tenants’ struggle (Kishan 1995: 434-435). During the Chari-Kopar strike of the Agari peasants of Alibag taluka (Kolaba), Ambedkar paid several visits to Chari village. People from the neighbouring villages of Pen and Alibag taluka would flock in large numbers in their bullock carts to Dharamtar13 Dhakka (Jetty) to greet Ambedkar during such visits (Patil, M. 1988). Agari peasants from Chari village (Alibag) and Bhendkhal (Uran) went on a strike in 1932. N. N. Patil played an important role in these strikes (Patil, N. 1994: 64-80). While the strike in Bhendkhal subsided early, the one in Chari continued till 1937, with a short halt in 1934. Another strike in Bhendkhal village lasted for five years, from 1939 till 1943 (Mhatre, D. 1988: 37-39; Patil, K. 1988). This strike is discussed later in this chapter. The striking peasants refused to pay excessive rents. It seems that A. V. Chitre, 14 an activist then connected with N. M. Joshi’s Social Service League, a CKP (Chandraseniya Kayastha Prabhu) by caste and N. N. Patil had taken the lead in organizing a ‘peasants union’. This union was declared illegal in 1932. The ban was lifted in 1934, and thereafter the third session of the Kolaba Zilla Shetkari Parishad (Kolaba District Peasants’ Convention) was held on 16th December, presided over by Ambedkar. After a short break, the strike resumed and continued till 1937. The khots’ attempts to cultivate the land with the help of tenants from neighbouring villages were countered by invoking caste sanctions against the defector peasants. A final settlement was reached only at the end of 1937 (Krishan 1995: 433-434). Four candidates of the ILP won the general elections from Ratnagiri and Kolaba (A. V. Chitre was one of them),

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indicating that Ambedkar’s ILP had won the support of the peasants of this district (Omvedt 1994: 195-196).

Independent Labour Party - 1936-1942 The ILP was founded on 15th August 1936. Phadake (1993: 288) argues that originally Ambedkar had plans to form a party meant exclusively for the Depressed Classes. However, since it was not possible for such a party to win a majority to acquire power only with the support of the Depressed Classes, Ambedkar sought to make the support base of the party broader and extended it to include all lower classes and castes. Thus, the election manifesto talked about nationalizing industries, abolishing khoti tenure, regularizing usury, house rent, working hours, pension and bonus (ibid.). According to the Government of India Act, 1935, out of the total of 175 seats of the Bombay Legislative Council, sixty seats were reserved. Out of these sixty seats, fifteen were reserved for the Depressed Classes. The ILP won seventeen (eleven from the fifteen reserved) seats in these elections (ibid.: 289). Ambedkar was disappointed as he had expected far better results. The Congress won the majority. In 1937, the Congress government under the Chief Ministership of Balasaheb Kher was installed. On 17th September 1937, Ambedkar introduced a bill proposing the abolition of khoti. This was a step in the direction of fulfilling the promise made in the election manifesto of ILP (ibid.: 40). Ambedkar’s bill was not welcomed by Congressmen. In order to put pressure on the Congress, Ambedkar started a campaign in support of the bill. The ILP leaders, Chitre and Parulekar, toured Khed and Chiplun talukas of Ratnagiri district. A meeting was also held in Chari on 17th October 1937, which was followed by a big procession of 3000 peasants. These must have been Agari peasants. They were waving red flags and Leftists such as B. T. Randive, G. S. Sardesai and ILP leaders Surendranth Tipnis and Parulekar were present during this march (Omvedt 1994: 195). Ambedkar also addressed several meetings of the tenants belonging to the Tilori Kunabi caste. But Ambedkar’s bill was finally rejected by the Kher government. However, it did accept the Tenancy bill brought by Morarji Desai on 3rd October 1939, which had some provisions for the tenants but was not as radical as Ambedkar’s draft (Phadake 1993: 40-41). But the Act was not implemented until 1946, as the Kher government resigned from power soon after the bill was passed and, further, because the governor did not approve of the legislation (ibid.: 41-42).

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Peasant strike in Bhendkhal, Uran The Bhendkhal strike in Uran taluka started in 1939 under the leadership of N. N. Patil. The main landlord in the village was a Muslim merchant called Bhiwandiwala, settled in the town of Uran. The strike started when the landlord refused to pay any heed to the demands of the peasants. The peasants of Bhendkhal refused to pay the usual rent in the proportion of 12:8. 15 When the landlord did not pay any heed, the peasants declared a strike. This strike lasted for nearly five years. Out of the 960 acres of land in Bhendkhal village, 500 acres remained uncultivated for four years. Although excess rent was the main issue of contention the situation was complicated by several local factors. Bhendkhal and its neighbouring village Bokadvira did not share very cordial relations. An account in the biography of Ganpat Laxman Patil, a leader with leftist leanings from the Agari community of Bombay, states that the landlord and his men along with the help of the patil, the headman of Bokadvira village, were harassing the villagers from Bhendkhal village (Mhatre, D. 1988: 37-39). The Uran market had been closed to the people of Bhendkhal. The road to the market went through Bokadvira village and it was perhaps through the patil that the landlord was obstructing their access to Uran market (ibid.). The strike took an unexpected turn when the village patil from Bokadvira was killed. Another account given by a SKP leader suggests that it was the landlord, Bhiwandiwala, who was behind the murder and was trying to implicate the striking peasants (Patil, K. 1988). Cases were filed against the leaders of the striking peasants. Although N. N. Patil with his lawyer friend Korlekar and Ganapat Patil defended the accused peasants, they were implicated on the charge of murder and sent to prison for three years. But Ganapat Patil, along with N. N. Patil and other people from the village, managed to reduce the tension between the two villages. The Uran market, which had been closed to the villagers of Bhendkhal by the landlord Bhiwandikar, was opened when these leaders established peace between the warring villages by asking the villagers from Bhendkhal and Bokadvira to unite and not play into the hands of the landlord. The villagers from both the villages marched to Uran town. When the savkars from the town saw the unity among the peasants, the market had to be opened for the peasants (ibid.). The peasants also finally managed to shift the deal in their favour (ibid.).

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Chirner: social banditry 16 and peasant mobilization Before Independence, formal politics was not a viable mode for common people including a substantial majority of the peasant population as universal adult franchise was not available. The franchise in India was restricted to a wealthy class of Indians, determined by property and other qualifications by the Government of India Act, 1935 (Rothermund 1962: 517-518). Therefore, ‘social banditry’ was one of the available means for the poor and non-literate peasants to voice their protests. Around the time when N. N. Patil was contesting elections (1930-1940), voicing the concerns of Agari peasants in the elected council, and mobilizing peasants through strikes, in Chirner, a band of armed Agari youths under the leadership of one Baraku Chirlekar, was making its presence felt. It had a dominating presence. The savkars of Chirner and neighbouring villages had apparently expressed their frustration by sarcastically asking the colonial administration, ‘Who rules in Chirner - The British or Baraku Chirlekar?’ Chirner proudly remembers his acts of bravery and justice. On the basis of his writ in Chirner and surrounding villages, he had forced the savkars to reduce the rents. Informants from Chirner told me that Baraku Chirlekar had been the uncrowned king of the surrounding region. The region is replete with narratives about Baraku which have assumed the status of legends with the passage of time. But they are contrasting and confusing. Villages like Borkhar and Dhakati Jui recall with a sense of terror his raids on their villages. People from Vindhane recall his fearless display of power in challenging the unquestioned might of landlord Bapu Khot of Vindhane. From Khopata one gets an account of the working of the inner factions within the community, which culminated in revenge killings. 17 In 1944, Baraku Chirlekar and some of his closest aides were killed in one such round of revenge killings. I shall discuss in detail the band, its modus operandi, ideology and its relation to the power struggle within the Agari community in the following chapter (Chapter Six).

5.3 The politics of land: land reforms (1950 – 1981) Shetkari Kamgar Paksha (1948) In the late 1920s, the peasantry of Maharashtra gradually moved towards the Indian National Congress. The credit for this expansion in its support base went to the leadership of Gandhi, who shifted the orientation of the Indian National Congress from a minority of English

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educated Indian elites towards the Indian masses (Phadake 1993: 251-252). However, after the death of Gandhi in 1948, the same non-Brahman leadership which had led the entry into the Congress began expressing discontent with the party. In 1948, these leaders headed by Keshavrao Jedhe and Shankarrao More and some of the district level leaders left the Congress to form the SKP. In 1950, the SKP was declared to be a Marxist Leninist Party (Omvedt 1976: 281-282). N. N. Patil also joined this party upon the request of Kakasaheb Vagh and Nanasaheb Patil, the founding members of the SKP (Patil, N. 1994: 121). The SKP as a political party gained substantial ground among the peasants of Kolaba in the following years. This is evident from the victory of the SKP in the Legislative Assembly and Parliamentary elections. In the second Legislative Assembly elections held in 1957, the SKP won thirty-one seats all over the Bombay Presidency. In Raigad (then Kolaba) the SKP managed to take five out of the total eight seats. In the same year, in the Parliamentary elections SKP leader, Rajaram Raut, Koli by caste, won from Kolaba.

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Table 5.1 The comparative strength of the Congress and SKP and the distribution of Maharashtra Legislative Assembly seats between various political parties* in Raigad (1951 – 2004) INC Seats Seats

Maharashtra INC (I) Seats

SKP Seats

Year

Total

Contested

Won

1951 1957 1962 1967 1972 1978

268 339 264 270 270 288

313 396 264 270 271 259 INC (U) 192 INC 287 276 286 249 157

269 234 215 203 222 69

203

62

47

286

186

1980 288 1985 1990 1995 1999 2004

288 288 288 288 288

161 141 80 75 69

Contested

Raigad (Kolaba)

Won

Seats

Contested

Won

T

SKP

INC

87 55 79 58 58

14 31 15 19 7 13

7 8 8 7 7 7

0 5 3 5 1 2

7 0 5 2 4 3

41

9

7 3

3

29 40 42 22 43

13 8 6 5 2

7 7 7 7 7

0 2 1 0 2

5 3 3 3 1

SS

NCP

2 3 2 2

2 2

Source: Statistical report on general elections, Election Commission of India 1951-2004. *INC – Indian National Congress, SS – Shiv Sena, NCP – Nationalist Congress Party, INC (U) - Indian National Congress – United, INC(I) – Indian National Congress, Indira.

1947 and after: land reforms and abolition of tenancy The skewed land distribution of the period prior to the land reforms can be seen from Table 5.2. The land reforms were implemented in Raigad district and other parts of Maharashtra in 1957. Under the Bombay Tenancy and Agricultural Lands (Amendment) Act 1955, 1st April 1957 was declared as the “Tillers’ Day” on which it was declared that every tenant “shall be deemed to have purchased from his landlord” (as quoted in Dantwala and Shah 1971: 26). The process of transfer of land from the savkars to the peasants continued for a long time. Table 5.3 shows that in 1980-81 there were hardly any landholders owning more than fifty hectares of land. The land reforms, one can argue, were fairly successful in releasing the tenants from the clutches of the large landholders. The Agari peasants explained that the savkars, who were predominantly Brahmans and Muslims, lost their land and left for the urban areas. Many of them were already absentee landlords with their base in the cities. But the land reforms completed the process of their migration.

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Table 5.2 Distribution of land in Raigad district (1952-53)

Acres 0-5 6-15 16-25 26-100 101500 500+

% Landholders 73.72 18.71 3.57 3.41

% of the total land 23.84 19.77 11.28 23.33

0.54 0.05

13.89 7.90

Source: (DGR 18 1993: 296)

Table 5.3 Distribution of land in Raigad district (1980-81) % to the total % Hectares Landholders land 2> 76.46 31.86 2-5 16.82 29.97 6-10 4.96 19.81 11-20 1.42 11.26 21-50 0.3 4.8 50+ 0.04 2.3 Source: (DGR 1993: 296) Note: The units of land in both the tables are different. They are made comparable by giving percentages of each category. 1 hectare = 2.989 975 116 acres [commercial] 1 hectare = 2.471 043 92 acres [survey]

A survey (Dantwala and Shah 1971) conducted for the evaluation of land reforms in the western region of India in the year 1964-65 included twelve villages from two talukas of Raigad (then Kolaba) district. The report of the survey shows that there was a decline in the incidence of tenancy in the six talukas that were selected for the survey.

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Table 5.4 Tenancy as percentage of cultivated area Districts and Takulas Kaira Year

Satara

Kolaba

Matar Nadiad Satara Wai Karjat Panvel*

1956-57 32

23

21

23

31

40

1964-65 14

11

6

5

10

8

Source: (Dantwala and Shah 1971: 46) *Panvel is the taluka adjacent to Uran taluka.

The survey conducted during my fieldwork confirms the argument that there is more or less equitable distribution of land and that the land reforms have been fairly successful. The average landholding per household was 1.73 acres in 2005. The distribution of land also shows that in 2005 nearly ninety-one percent of the households owned five or less acres of land.

No. of Households

Landholding in Acres 2005 100 No.of Househlds 50

Percenage of Households

0 0 No.of Househlds

19

0.1 to 1.1 to 5.1 to 10.1+ 1 5 10 77

60

13

2

Percenage of 11.111 45.029 35.088 7.6023 1.1696 Households Land in Acres

Figure 5.1 Landholding per household in acres in Chirner, 2005 Source: Field survey, 2005

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Distribution of land in acres, 2005

Acres, 5.1+, 15, 9%

0-5 5.1+

Acres, 0-5, 156, 91%

Figure 5.2 Proportion of households with less than five acres and more than five acres of land in Chirner, 2005 Source: Field survey, 2005

Mobilization of saltpan workers Another important leader from the Agari community, who was to shape the political career of the community, mainly in the post-Independence era, was Tukaram Hari Vajekar. Originally hailing from Jaskhar, Uran, he had settled in Bombay in pursuit of a livelihood at a very young age. While his paternal family remained in Jaskhar, he continued staying in Bombay even after his marriage. In the mid-1930s, T. H. Vajekar joined the Civil Disobedience movement through the salt satyagraha. From then onwards he became a committed worker of the Indian National Congress. In 1936, he won plaudits for his role in resolving the tension between Hindus and Muslims in Byculla, Bombay. What could have been a bloody riot was avoided because of Vajekar’s courageous initiative. However, after that, his wife and friends forced him to go back to Uran. The police in Bombay had become suspicious about Vajekar’s involvement in anti-government activities. This prompted his departure from Bombay (Mhatre, V. 2000: 40). In Uran, the plight of salt workers was pathetic and after returning to Uran, Vajekar took an active interest in their problems. The saltpan-workers in the transport department had gone on strike against the saltpan owners. The leaders were from among the workers themselves. However, the workers requested the leaders from ‘Panvel Agari Seva Sangh’, T. H. Vajekar and Ganesh Patil, to look into the matter. When all these men came together and discussed the matter it was felt that a ‘Trade Union’ was necessary for the movement to be

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effective. As a result, in 1944, the Uran Peta Mithagar Kamgar Sangha (Uran Peta 19 Saltpan Workers Federation) was formed. This Union of saltpan-workers was formed to deal with issues such as proper wages and proper working conditions for the saltpan-workers. The cases between the owners and the workers were fought in a special court in Uran. The pleader from the workers’ side was Rajani Patel who secured justice for the workers. He also remained the legal advisor of the ‘Uran Peta Mithagar Kamgar Sangha’ (Mhatre, D. 1988: 37-39). This union of the saltpan-workers continues to play an important role till date, in the regulation and recovery of wages and surety of employment issues. Back in the 1950s and 1960s, when the number of saltpans and saltpan-workers was high, the union had a dominating presence in the region and was dreaded by the saltpan-owners.

5.4 The politics of land: the peasant struggle against land acquisition (1966–1984) 1970s: a decade of transition The decade of the 1970s marks a kind of watershed in the history of the region in many ways. The late 1960s and the entire decade of the 1970s witnessed significant upheaval in the region. During this period, land was acquired by the state government on a massive scale for various ‘development’ projects. These land acquisitions for the creation of Ransai dam, 20 New Bombay, 21 Jawaharlal Nehru Port 22 and Bharat Petrochemicals Limited (BPCL) threw the region into a spate of peasant mobilizations, some of which even turned bloody. The culminating point of these mobilizations came in 1984 when five people died in police firing. The incident drew the attention of the entire state towards this region. Public memory is still fresh on the happenings of 17th and 18th January 1984, when five Agari peasants lost their lives. People remember and revere them as hutatma (martyrs). These developments shook the sensibilities of the people of this region as never before. Peasant mobilizations were not new to the region, but this incident brought home to the Agari peasants the stark reality that although they owned the land they hardly controlled it. These new projects of urban development and industrialization gave an almost instant impetus to other processes of development. Infrastructure facilities started improving. Roads and bridges were built. The usual mad rush for drinking water in villages due to water scarcity, which was widely prevalent in all Kharland areas, started showing signs of

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subsiding. Although there is still room for improvement, the earlier drought-like situation which took a heavy toll of women’s time and labour, is no longer a reality. Electricity had reached the region in 1961, but means of communication and transport improved only in the 1970s. Ironically, this did not happen because people of the region needed it. They had been demanding these facilities for a long time without any success. The projects that were being set up almost forced the improvement of the infrastructural facilities, and it was only incidentally that they improved the lot of the people residing here. The peasants had hardly any say in these new developments of the 1960s and 1970s. The developments brought much displeasure to the peasants, who were forced to give up their cultivable land, their only means of livelihood, at throwaway prices to CIDCO (City and Industrial Development Corporation of Maharashtra Ltd.), the intermediary body between the people and the government dealing with the urban development of the Bombay Metropolitan region, which was responsible for the process of acquisition.

CIDCO and the Maharashtra Regional and Town Planning Act, 1966 CIDCO was incorporated on 17th March 1970 under the Indian Companies Act, 1956 with a definite purpose. The growth rates of Bombay, which were increasing with every passing decade had forced the Maharashtra state government to set up various study groups to investigate the problems and recommend solutions. The first such committee, set up as early as 1948, was called the Mayer-Modak Committee which talked about having satellite towns north of Bombay to take the pressure off the city. The next committee under S. G. Barve, Secretary, Public Works Department, submitted its report in 1959 and recommended building a bridge across the Thane creek to connect Bombay city with the mainland and allow the population to disperse to the mainland. The satellite towns were to be situated in Thane district, across the creek of Thane. Another committee was appointed under the chairmanship of D. R. Gadgil to ‘formulate broad principles of regional planning for the metropolitan regions of Bombay, Panvel and Pune and make recommendations for the establishment of Metropolitan Authorities for preparation and execution of such plans’ 23

The committee

submitted its report in 1966. The Maharashtra Regional and Town Planning Act was passed in 1966 and was brought into force in January 1967. Bombay Metropolitan Region was notified and the regional planning board was constituted. It submitted its draft regional plan in 1970. In the

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plan it recommended the ‘development of a city across the harbour, on the mainland to the east, as a counter-magnate to the office concentration taking place at the southern tip of Bombay’. 24 This particular area was selected because it lay ‘across the harbour’ of Bombay. Proximity to the city, to the port and also to the sea made this region the most convenient spot for the dispersal of population and offices, which were putting grave pressure on the infrastructural facilities of Bombay. By February 1970, the government had notified some eighty-six villages to acquire land. These villages were then a part of Belapur taluka (Thane) and Panvel taluka (Raigad). They constituted 15,954 hectares of land. In 1973, nine additional villages from Uran taluka were notified for acquisition. This area covered 2870 hectares of land. 25 Thereafter, CIDCO was incorporated to carry out the recommendations. Thus began, in the decade of the 1970s, a process of land acquisition in which the peasants whose land was to be acquired hardly had any say. They were neither asked whether they were willing to give the land nor were they offered any room to negotiate the prices for their only means of livelihood, which they were to give up without even questioning the reasonableness of it.

Peasant mobilization against the land acquisition Chirner was not among the villages that received such notices for land acquisition. Yet these developments were too close and too significant for the villagers from Chirner and nearby to ignore. A large chunk of the western half of Uran taluka was to be acquired by CIDCO under this plan. The eastern half of Uran is separated by the Khopata creek from the western half. Chirner and its surrounding villages were separated by a distance of less than ten kilometers from the scene of action. The ninety-five notified villages and the non-notified villages, including Chirner, were predominantly inhabited by Agari peasants. Social, marital and kinship ties linked these villages to each other. They also shared a regional variant of the Agari dialect and cultural ethos and history, as they were a part of a geographically fairly continuous and culturally fairly homogenous region. All this made the villagers of the nonnotified villages equally sensitive to the injustices that were being meted out to their caste brethren. This sensitivity was also heightened by the fact that these developments were going to have far-reaching implications for them as well, although they were not, at the time, directly affected. And, perhaps sooner or later, they may have had to share the same fate. Indeed, as I show at the end of the chapter, unfortunately this is the reality. So it was essential to speak out against such acquisitions at the outset. The hurried and careless manner in which the authorities wanted to handle the business of land acquisition, and the meager prices which

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they were willing to offer in return, enraged the peasant population of the ninety-five notified villages. It equally antagonized the villagers from neighbouring villages. Thus, the local leadership of the SKP from the notified as well as non-notified villages joined hands with the state-level leadership and pooled their resources for an agitation. As the process of acquisition gained momentum, the mobilization intensified. In 1970, a committee by the name ‘Joint Struggle to Save Land’ (jameen bachaav samyukta ladha) was formed under the leadership of D. B. Patil 26 and Tukaram Vajekar, both activists of the SKP. The peasants were against selling the land, but some of them, out of fear and helplessness, had sold the land for paltry amounts. The struggling peasants soon realized the inevitability of the process and the huge profits made by CIDCO in selling that land to outside buyers. The struggle against land acquisition turned into a struggle for rightful remuneration. The peasants now demanded rupees 15,000 per acre. This may be compared with the demand of 1967, of rupees 1500 per acre. The demand increased as the peasants saw CIDCO making huge profits in the bargain. This demand was accepted in 1978 by then Chief Minister Sharad Pawar. But as the struggle progressed, the peasants realized that CIDCO was making even larger profits by selling the acquired land. In 1982, an agreement was reached with the then Chief Minister Babasaheb Bhosale for a remuneration of rupees 40,000 per acre. But the change of rule in Maharashtra brought Vasant Patil as the Chief Minister, and he chose to renege on the new agreement and give only rupees 27,000 per acre of land. The agitation of Agari peasants that took place in 1984 was a reaction against this breach of promise and the peasants refused to relinquish their land unless they were given rupees 40,000 per acre as per their demand. Thus, in January 1984, when the officials from CIDCO visited the villages in western Uran to complete the process of acquisition they were shunted out. As the situation grew tense, the Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) and State Reserve Police Force (SRPF) were brought in. The authorities finally declared that 17th January would be the date for the final acquisition procedures. Meanwhile, D. B. Patil and the whole rank and file of the leadership from the SKP, who were a part of the struggle, were arrested. The second rank of leadership, mainly from the non-notified villages, went underground. A plan for a protest march to be held on the 17th of January was hatched and the network of underground leaders operated to mobilize the peasants from the villages of Western Uran. But having got an inkling of these plans the authorities suddenly advanced the date for land acquisition. It was to take place on

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the 16th of January. This change of plan was also conveyed to the villagers by the underground workers. On the 16th and 17th, in two separate incidents, when people gathered to protest against the government, the situation turned violent and the CRPF and SRPF opened fire on the Agari peasant mob, which did not disperse even after a lathi charge. Altogether five Agari peasants lost their lives. Leaders from the national as well as the state level flocked to the region to offer their sympathy to the mourning families and support for the struggle. The land, in the end, was lost but the peasants managed to turn the bargain a little bit in their favour. They were able to secure a price of Rs. 30,000 per acre. In addition every peasant was to get 12.5 percent of the total land acquired from him in developed form, ready for commercial use (Gharat 2002: 44 – 150). The resentment of the peasants in the district against the Congress-led state government was also emphatically expressed through the ballot box. In the 1984 general elections, the Congress won with a sweeping majority in the rest of the country, but the Kolaba Lok Sabha seat went to the SKP (D. B. Patil) with a sizeable margin. In the 1985 assembly elections, the SKP gave an impressive performance, winning five out of seven seats after struggling for nearly two decades, and Congress could win none, (see table 5.1 in this chapter) repeating the disastrous defeat it suffered only once in 1957 when the Sanyukta Maharashtra Samitee (Committee for the formation of the united linguistic state of Maharashtra) almost wrested power from the Congress.

1980s: after the peasant struggle The development of infrastructure mentioned earlier was a logical outcome of this land acquisition and the setting up of the new international port (Jawaharlal Nehru Port) and new city (New Bombay) in the vicinity of Chirner. The developments in western Uran have had far reaching effects on the population of eastern Uran, which was not directly affected by these developments. The wage structures, employment opportunities and educational facilities, have improved. However, given the general educational, economic and social backwardness of the people residing in this region, there were limits to the extent to which they could take advantage of most of these ‘favourable’ developments. As a result, once the land was lost it became very difficult for them to replace it with another meaningful and sustainable mode of earning a livelihood. In several cases, the cash compensations were either wasted on non-productive vanities or on businesses which they were ill-equipped to handle.

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What was even more tragic was that the way of life associated with paddy cultivation was forcibly replaced by a very different kind of social life. The people in the region even after twenty years have not been able to come to terms with this profound qualitative change that has taken place in their social life, victimizing the younger generation. Most of these changes are not easy to measure. In fact at a cursory glance, it may appear that the economic status of the community has improved in the region where land acquisition has taken place. But underneath this apparent prosperity, there is a more subtle and deeper sense of loss. We shall discuss these developments in more detail in the next chapter.

5.5 The politics of land: land as commodity (1985 – 2005) The Shiv Sena enters the political scene (1980s and after) The men who migrated to Mumbai and its suburbs from Uran taluka during the late sixties and early seventies were close witnesses to the politics of the Shiv Sena, 27 which calculatingly derived its support from the Marathi populace. The seeds of the Shiv Sena lie in the Sanyukta Maharashtra movement of 1954 to 1960 for the formation of the linguistic state of Maharashtra. The movement received support from various progressive political parties in this region in which 105 people lost their lives. Heuzé calls the founders of the Shiv Sena (in 1966) as ‘déclassé intellectuals’ (Heuzé 2000: 5). The deprivation of the Marathi working classes 28 was understood in terms of the dominance of the non-Marathis in Mumbai. It was skillfully argued that the ‘sons-of-the-soil’, i.e. the Marathi people, suffered at the hands of the South Indians and North Indians. In its initial phase, the Shiv Sena’s fight was against non-Marathis. But this call for Marathi unity could easily turn into a call for Hindu unity. In fact, right from its inception the Shiv Sena had manifested antagonism for non-Hindu religious communities, especially Muslims (Joshi 1970: 975). During the 1980s, the Shiv Sena sought to mobilize people around Hindutva. 29 That this strategy was effective was evident from the fact that, after the Bhiwandi riots of 1984, which were choreographed by the Shiv Sena, it managed to win 75 seats in the Bombay Municipality, up from its earlier 21 seats in 1978 (Katzenstein et al. 1997: 374). The Agari men from Uran taluka were employed in low-class jobs as mill-workers, servants, labourers in hotels and canteens, and a few were in Class III and Class IV jobs in the Government. 30 The Shiv Sena drew its support mainly from these sections. The entry of the Shiv Sena into Chirner was primarily through these men who became loyal Shiv sainiks

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(‘soldier of Shivaji’ is the term for a Shiv Sena party worker) in Bombay. As they went to their native places in Uran they took the Shiv Sena with them. Several Shiv Sena branches came up during this period in the region. This spread of the Shiv Sena in the rural hinterland of Maharashtra is summarized by Heuzé (2000: 6) in the following manner: ‘the Shiv Sena also spread in countryside, where its proclivity to fight and its concern to promote individual and collective pride were diffused in a patchwork fashion, via the migration of workers and transmission by artisans and idle youth’. In 1990, the Shiv Sena won its first assembly seat in the district, and in 1999 Datta Patil, 31 a senior SKP leader praised the Shiv Sena in these terms, in a public meeting organized by Agari Seva Sangh in Mumbai “We may have had political differences with Shiv Sena, but Agari community was given three cabinet ministries in the state [by the Sena]. Through Hareshwar Patil, after one hundred years, an elected representative of Agari community became the Mayor of Mumbai. Thus we feel that, it is only Shiv Sena which has paid due respect to the Agari community” (Sakal 30 December, 1999).

In 2005, when I did my fieldwork, the SKP and the Shiv Sena alliance was ruling in Raigad Zilla Parishad 32 (RZP). Balaram Mhatre, the President of RZP belonging to the SKP, was an Agari from Panvel taluka. The Vice-President Manohar Bhoir, a Shiv Sena man from western Uran was also an Agari. Another characteristic of the post-land acquisition era was the commercialization of politics. Earlier, contesting elections was not so much a matter of money. But in the 1980s and 1990s, it became the forte of wealthy men. The construction business in the post-1980s after the commencement of New Bombay and JNPT projects, became a lucrative means of earning money. In the next two decades, there emerged a strong nexus between the political parties, their leaders, estate agents and construction businessmen. The economics of the election had changed qualitatively in 1998, when a local Agari, Ram Thakur, from Gavhan village, Panvel taluka, contested the Lok Sabha election from the Raigad constituency as an SKP candidate. 33 Ram Thakur had risen from rather humble origins to become a successful construction businessman in the region in the post-JNPT decade of the 1980s. Now with the policy of SEZ (Special Economic Zone) being initiated, it is mainly, the Congress and the Shiv Sena affiliated politicians who are making money as estate agents, acting as the mediators between the buyers and the peasants.

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History is repeated: 2000 and after As the situation stands in 2007, the Indian and the international agencies are vying for the proposed SEZs that are to be developed in various parts of India. The Raigad district SEZ is known as the Maha Mumbai SEZ and the Reliance group of industries are the main stakeholders in it. It is the most lucrative, perhaps, of all of the SEZs simply because it is very close to India’s economic capital, Mumbai. Unfortunately, as in 1960s-70s, in these new developments the very people whose land is going to be acquired have hardly any role or say. These developments have sent the prices of land in this region soaring. With very low levels of education and a lack of exposure, the peasants would lose their land and would be left with no sustainable means of earning a livelihood; while the main beneficiaries would be the nonlocal and even non-Indian investors. Similar to the past experience, the Agari peasants would end up doing manual or clerical jobs in the newly emerging Khopata Township. A popular saying among the peasants these days is Mumbai tumachi, bhandi ghasa amachi (‘You can have Mumbai, but please clean our utensils’). The sarcasm is subtle yet poignant.

5.6 Conclusion I started this chapter by focusing on the early twentieth century and have come down to the beginning of the twenty-first century. The chapter charted the course of peasant rebellions through the colonial and post-colonial periods. Scott’s arguments were both noted and differed from to some extent. The truth of Hardiman’s critique – that genuine reciprocity between landlord/state and tenants is not possible – is borne out to an extent. From my perspective, the Agaris are both “caste” and “peasantry”. Scott’s argument is worth retaining for understanding the agency of the peasants, but in the Indian context, we need to also analyze the caste dimension of such movements, which partake of other ideologies besides the subsistence morality of an undiversified peasantry. The chapter showed that ‘caste’ may be partly an ideological and hierarchical construct on Dumontian lines, but its construction and position is also crucially situated in the material realities of land, livelihood and power. Caste dynamics shift over time and are intricately connected with wider changes and economic transitions. Caste mobility is patterned not merely on the lines of sanskritization, but is a more complex process emerging of a dynamic and uncertain situation in which political power and new economic opportunities have a vital role to play. If this is the story of Chapter Five, the

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next Chapter will turn our attention again to the “status” dimension of caste. In the next chapter, although I stick to the politics of the community, I shall try to bring out the intricacies of it through an ethnographic description of social strata, kinship networks and family histories within the community at the level of the village.

1

Peasants are usually conceived to be males. However, in this case there are also female peasants - who own

land and cultivate it — whether they are from woman-headed households or otherwise. 2

If one surveys marshy swamps which are inundated by tidal waters twice a day, they appear to make even

normal movements difficult. To imagine the swamps converted into a farm land for cultivating paddy in the vicinity of salty creek water needs a visionary entrepreneur’s adventurous insight. It would not be out of place to note here that the standard farming equipment such as ploughs operated by bullocks or buffaloes do not work in this excessively sticky and deeply muddy soil. Only recently, power-tillers and tractors are being used occasionally. Even today, most of the farming activities are carried out by sheer manual labour. Secondly, marshy swamps cannot be reclaimed on a small scale. They need knowledge about flows through estuaries and creeks, and the behaviour of these flows during the highest tides (udhan), particularly during the summer when salinity is the highest. They require the construction of bunds and lock gates (ughad) to control the flow directions through estuaries thus arresting the inflow of sea water during high tide while allowing the discharge of inland waters into the sea through creeks. Lastly, the reclaimed land becomes productive only after it has been desalinated by washing through a minimum of three rainy seasons and the maintenance of bunds and lock gates so that inundation by tidal sea water is avoided. This whole exercise which looks like a complex engineering project has been executed through community participation for decades. 3

For instance, in Pen taluka out of the total agricultural population of 40,920, tenants numbered 34,957 and

labourers 3,387 (Charlesworth 1985: 274). 4

Although Charlesworth (1985: 275) has called the politics of peasants in the Kolaba district ‘poor peasant

politics’ he has argued that ‘the main protagonists were typically assertive groups within the poor peasantry with potentially upward social momentum’. This is confirmed by my ethnographic data as we shall see in Chapter Six. 5

Scott has argued that the peasant economy is driven by the ‘economics of subsistence’. The cultivator prefers to

minimize disaster rather than increase the average returns. Thus, for poor as well as middle peasants it is ‘safety first’ (Scott 1976: 25). There are several subsistence alternatives which the peasant uses in situations of scarcity. The peasant views subsistence as his moral claim and it is the obligation of the elite to enable it (ibid.: 33). The landholder, tenant and wage labourer hierarchy in a peasant community was marked not by corresponding differences of income but by corresponding differences in security in crisis situations (ibid. 35-36). Scott shows how the subsistence ethic exists concretely in the form of choices and values of the peasantry of Southeast Asia. Colonialism, Scott argues, pushed the peasants towards unrest by complicating the subsistence security dilemma in favour of the landlords and the colonial rulers. The market-based insecurities, erosion of risk-sharing value of the village, reduction of traditional ‘safety-valves’, giving more powers to the landlord in terms of fixed rent and stabilization of state tax revenue led to a transformation in the subsistence pattern. ‘[W]hat was critical in this transformation was not so much a decline in income per se as a decline of earlier social insurance patterns’

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(ibid.: 57). The fiscal policy of the colonial state also infuriated the peasant as it violated the moral economy of the subsistence ethic. Thus, the depression of 1930 actually served as the ‘coup de grâce’ to an agrarian social order which was already weakened structurally (ibid.: 114). The decrease in the price of rice was accompanied inevitably by peasant resistances. Across Southeast Asia there were peasant protests happening in countries like Burma and Vietnam. Scott argues that the peasant’s sense of exploitation is not rooted in some objective situation of exploitation but in his sense of exploitation which is firmly rooted in his ideas of morality which is related to principles of ‘reciprocity’ and ‘right to subsistence’. Scott argues that therefore an objective definition and understanding of exploitation does not necessarily explain the peasants’ rebellion. Hardiman (1987: 50) has criticized Scott for dichotomizing the ‘traditional’ peasant society and the ‘modern’ capitalist society. Scott’s concept of morality is also questioned for having camouflaged the relations of subordination and domination between the peasant and the landlord and the state. Hardiman rules out the possibility of any ‘genuine reciprocity’ between the landlord/state and the tenants (ibid.: 48). Yet Scott’s analysis is important as it gives agency to peasants rather than giving deterministic explanations for the peasant movements (‘hunger was not the cause of revolts’ (ibid.: 45)). 6

This also includes the social and political activism of Ambedkar. Although he was not completely divorced

from the non-Brahman movement, Ambedkar never completely identified with it. 7

An interesting parallel to the social history of Agaris and also to the role played in the community by organic

leadership is the social history of the Jats of Punjab (Nonica Datta 1999). The Jats are also a Shudra landed peasant community, but numerically far more dominant than the Agaris. Choturam, a Jat leader, English educated son of an illiterate peasant, played an important role in the formation of an alternative identity of this caste. Choturam voiced his concerns through his writings, one of the most famous being ‘bechara sahukar’ (ibid.: 101). Similar to Agari peasantry, exploitation by moneylenders was an issue of concern for the Jat peasants. 8

From the three prominent strikes that happened in the region, we can trace a pattern of peasants’ resistance. The

peasants involved in the strikes refused to cultivate the land owned by the landlords en masse. The lands, at times, lay without being cultivated for years together. 9

Tarfas were administrative units constituted by villages ranging from the number 15 to 50. The term tarfa has

its origin in Nizam rule (Fukazawa 1990, Kale 1950). These tarfas did not hold any administrative value during the British rule (Kale 1950: 204). The villages of Agari peasants were divided in various tarfas (also called tappa colloquially) for the administrative convenience of the larger caste council (ibid.). Such divisions of villages was also present among the Agaris of Chirner region. There were tarfa divisions earlier but these days the usage of these terms as well as the social organization of villages under the council, have weakened. I discuss the Agari caste council and organization of the villages under it in Chapter Seven. 10

This village is near the village of origin of N. N. Patil. It had become his main political and social base.

11

Bole was a prominent leader from the bhandari (toddy-tappers) caste of the Konkan.

12

Yet, as we shall see in the following Chapter, N. N. Patil’s association with the Congress remained ambiguous.

Although he was bitter about the high-handed attitude of the high-caste Congress leaders towards the non-literate Agari peasants, he was also aware of the fact that the civil disobedience movement had become popular among the Agari peasants.

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At the border of Alibag and Pen taluka is the Amba River, which forms the creek of Dharamtar where it surges

to meet the sea. This was then the entry point for Pen and Alibag talukas. Until the mid-sixties, a daily ferry service from Bombay Ferry Warf (Bhaucha Dhakka) to Dharamtar via Rewas (another entry point for Alibag) was the most convenient mode of transport. In order to reach the village Chari or in fact any village in Alibag one had to cross the creek of Dharamtar by ferry boats operating to take people and goods across the creek. Dharamtar Bridge across the creek was inaugurated in 1958 and thereafter the road transport (ST Buses) from Bombay to Alibag became the convenient mode of transport pushing Dharamtar Jetty, the busy hub till then, into oblivion. 14

In the 1937 elections he represented the ILP.

15

The standard measure used for measuring paddy is khandi. 1 khandi = 20 mans, 1 man = approx. 30-35kg. A

man is measured with a wooden container called fara. 2 faras = 1 man. Back then, the rent to be paid to the savkar was 12 mans out of every khandi. The remaining 8 mans went to the peasant. Instead, the peasants demanded that the proportion be reversed. 16

Anton Blok summarizes Hobsbawm’s concept of social banditry thus - ‘…social bandits are robbers of a

special kind…they are persons whom the state regards as outlaws, but who remain within the bounds of the moral order of the peasant community. Peasants see them as heroes, as champions, and as avengers, since they right wrongs when they defy representatives of State and landlords’ (Blok 1972: 494). 17

Many villages in this region had groups of Agari peasants warring for power within and without the

community. This struggle for power manifested itself in the form of violent conflicts between two groups within a village, between two villages or between two groups of villages. Informants from Chirner and other villages have claimed that Chirner was one such village, which was dreaded for its notoriety. Some even relate the existence of these warring factions to two or more competing landlords of the region who held these groups as their armies. These conflicts often became bloody, thus unleashing revenge killings. 18

Maharashtra State Gazetteer 1993, District Raigad.

19

The town of Uran and its surrounding region was also known as petha or kasaba.

20

The Ransai dam was built between Vindhane and Chirner on the river Raahi by the Maharashtra Industrial

Development Corporation (MIDC) in the 1960s primarily to facilitate the industrial development of the region as planned by the MIDC. Many peasants from Chirner and Vindhane lost their cultivable land for this project. The peasants even today are fighting for rightful remuneration for their lost land. 21

This was a satellite city on the eastern shore of the mainland north of Bombay, developed to ease the burden

off Bombay. 22

This port was to take the burden off from the port of Bombay, which was already very busy. The idea was

finalized in 1980 and Nhava Sheva Port Trust was formed in 1982. For this, the land of Nhave (Panvel) and Sheva (Uran) was acquired and a port, at a 10 km. distance from and exactly opposite Bombay port, was built. It was inaugurated on 26th May 1989, when it was also renamed as Jawaharlal Nehru Port Trust (DGR 1993: 500). 23

www.cidcoindia.com viewed on 10th October, 2005.

24

ibid.

25

ibid.

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D. B. Patil hails from the Jasai village of western Uran. He was a lawyer by training and had been a very

popular leader not only among Agaris but in the entire district. He had been representing the Panvel Assembly constituency continuously from 1957 to 1972 and in 1980. In 1978 and 1985 he was elected to Parliament from the Kolaba Lok Sabha constituency. I discuss his role in the spread of the SKP in the region in some detail in the next chapter. 27

The Shiv Sena, a political party, was founded on 19th June, 1966 by Bal Thackerey in Bombay. In March 1967,

it played a prominent role in the fourth general elections of India. The Shiv Sena attracted a large and militant following among the Marathi-speaking population. Its motto was ‘to safeguard the welfare of the people of Maharashtra’. In June 1967 it captured the municipality in Thane, the city adjacent to Bombay and in March 1968 it won 40 seats out of 140 in the Bombay Municipal Corporation (Joshi 1970: 967-968). It captured power in the Maharashtra state assembly in 1995 (Katzenstein et al. 1997: 373). Currently, it is the chief opposition party in the State Assemble. The Congress-Nationalist Congress Party alliance is the ruling coalition. 28

‘Maharashtrians, limited to manual labour and domestic service, carried no weight compared to Gujarati,

Sindhi and Parsi entrepreneurs, Marwari and Punjabi merchants, Tamil administrators, qualified labourer from Kerala, or even in comparison to artisans and restaurant owners from Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka’ (Heuzé 2000: 5). A similar point has been made by Joshi (1970: 969). In other words, the working class in Bombay had Maharashtrians in the majority. A majority of them came from the rural hinterlands of Maharashtra. This support base of the Shiv Sena was comprised of ‘the lower middle class, the industrial workers and other economically hard-hit sections of the urban population’ (ibid.: 975). 29

Hindutva, is the ideology of Hindu nationalism, having its roots in the pre-Independence era. It gained popular

following in India in the decade of the 1980s, through the Bharatiya Janata Party (a national political party), the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) and the Shiv Sena. The politics of religious violence, seen in the Bombay and Surat riots (1992-93) and the Gujarat riots (2003) derive from this ideology of religious fundamentalism. 30

Indian government jobs have a fourfold division. The Class I jobs are the highest paid and top level jobs

whereas the Class IV jobs are the lowest paid ones. 31

Datta Patil, son of Narayan Nagu Patil, took up an active role in the SKP. He was elected to the Maharashtra

state assembly several times. The Patil family (Narayan Nagu Patil’s sons, daughters and even daughters-in-law) came to hold a strong influence over the SKP of Raigad district. 32

The Zilla Parishad is a part of the three-tier local self government of every district. The lowest tier is the Gram

Panchayat, the elected body of each village or a group of villages. The next tier is the Panchayat Samiti, which operates at the taluka level. Two Panchayat Samiti constituencies make one ZP constituency. In Uran taluka there are four ZP constituencies. 33

He was elected to the Lok Sabha from Raigad district. His was a rags-to-riches story. Despite his humble

origins, he could contest the election only because during the 1980s he had emerged as a successful businessman in the booming construction industry of the region. By 1993 he was already a big name in the region. However, in 2005, he joined the Congress.

Chapter Six The politics of class and kinship 6.1 Introduction: ‘Class’, ‘Status’ and ‘Power’ The Agari peasantry was not a homogeneous one. In the early part of the twentieth century it may be roughly divided into rich, middle and poor categories for our convenience, but these categories may not be understood as distinct “classes” in the Marxist sense of the term. 1 This is because the rich peasantry was never as rich as the high caste landlords popularly known as savkar or pandharpeshe. 2 The size of the rich peasantry was too miniscule to operate as an independent entity. They were better-off only in comparison with the remaining poor Agari peasantry. But more importantly an Agari way of life centered on physical labour and agriculture was never completely given up even by the richest of the peasants. Belonging to the same Agari caste they shared a social rank which was associated with a low “status” within the caste hierarchy. 3 Rich peasants shared kinship ties with the middle and poor peasant. In fact their involvement in the physical labour should be understood as a part of their Agari peasant identity, which was closely associated with their ability to work – grow paddy, make salt – whatever may be the case. Their ethos thus was distinct from the savkar or pandharpeshe class who mainly consisted of the Brahman, Muslim and Marwari landlords

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who did not normally till the land. But the differentiation within the peasantry is of interest to us because it had a significant bearing on the peasant politics. In this chapter, taking cues from Chapter Five, we shall focus our attention more on the village and see how internal differentiation of the peasantry played out in the politics at the village level. During the preIndependence time the Agari peasantry’s interests clashed with the state and landed gentry. In the post-Independence period also the pattern of internal differentiation within the Agari community remained more or less the same. Only gradually there was improvement in the standard of living. When a crisis broke, the peasantry found itself pitched against a state which represented the interests of the urban, high class and caste elite. Post-crisis, the intracaste differentials have started shifting with more money coming in. Wolf is right when he argues that the peasantry is differentiated and that ‘such differentials have an important bearing on the genesis and course of [peasant’s] revolutionary movement’ (Wolf [1969] 1999: xix). In section 6.1, I discuss the regional class, and caste structure. After charting out the internal stratification among the Agaris, I highlight the factors which held the stratified Agari peasantry together. A thin crust of only relatively rich elite was connected to the humbler lot of peasants through kinship and marriage alliances, involvement in physical labour, and a peasant and non-Brahman cultural ethos. In section 6.2, the discussion is on how the internal stratification within the community and its kinship organization are keys to understanding the political activism – either formal or informal. During the pre-Independence time the modes of contesting power were more informal in nature, whereas after Independence these were replaced by formal modes. Universal franchise and democracy paved the way for this transformation.

6.2 The local caste and class structure The Agaris in comparison with other castes In 1911, nearly 92.3 % of the Agari population depended on agriculture (see the Table 4.5 in Chapter Four). Out of that only 2.3 % were rent receivers. A whooping 76.1 % were cultivators and a relatively low 13.9 % were field labourers. If we compare this with the three Brahman castes, we see that even in 1911 when there was a largely agrarian economy, less than 50 % of the population of all the three castes depended upon agriculture. The remaining 50 % or more of the population from these castes was surviving on non-agricultural

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occupations. Even among those who depended on agriculture, half of them were rent receivers, and only the remaining half were cultivators. None from the Brahman castes had to depend upon agricultural labour as a means of livelihood. In the Agari community, with a minority section of rent receivers and a small section of people employed in agricultural labour, it can be assumed safely that the absolute number of landlords must have been very small and concentrated in a small region as the community itself was not very large or widespread. 4 For example, in eastern Uran among a group of fifteen villages there was no Agari farmer until 1931 who owned more than hundred acres of land. There were only two farmers who owned sixty to seventy acres of land Mhatre (Koproli) and Thakur (Khopata). Among the remaining, most owned less than five acres of land. As far as Chirner is concerned, there were some families which owned twenty-five to forty acres of land (Keni, Gondhali). This was the general pattern of landownership among Agaris during those days. Today, due to the increase in population, land reforms and fragmentation of land, the average size of land held is not more than five acres (see figure 5.1 and figure 5.2 from Chapter Five). Prior to Independence, the landlords mainly came from Muslim, Marwadi and Brahman communities. There were three Muslim (Tungekar, Bapu Khot, Makba), some Marwadi (Gujar) and several Brahman landlords (Juvekar, Shringarpure, Khadake, Dani, Joshi etc. in Chirner) in the region around Chirner. Each of them held more than a hundred acres of land. Some even held more than a thousand acres of land. Tungekar’s land was spread all over the taluka. All the agricultural land near Borkhar and Dhakati Jui villages was owned by him (nearly 6000 acres, according to one of Tungekar’s sons). Apart from these landlords, there were several other smaller landlords who held land in smaller quantities but sufficient enough to earn a living by leasing out the land on rent. In addition, almost all of them practiced usury. Thus, most of these smaller landlords were called savkars. Only those with very large landholdings would be referred to as khot, whether they were appointed as khots or not. The term khot as a generic term indicates the power that the landlord wielded over his/her tenants. Although there was a section of Agari landowners who were rent receivers, educationally they were as backward as their non-landlord Agari counterparts (literacy in 1921 – 2 % and literacy in English – 0.02 %) (see table 4.4 from Chapter Four). Compare this with the literacy rates of there three castes of Brahmans (literacy in 1931 – around 50 % or

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more and English education around 10 % or more) and we can see the dominance of Brahmans and the backwardness of the Agaris and other low castes.

Stratification among the Agaris Yet the Agari peasantry was a stratified one. Land and wealth were the most important criteria for the differentiation of various segments within the Agari community. These were also the means for upward social mobility. But the number of Agaris who enjoyed an elevated economic status was small and their wealth did not compare with the wealth and status of Muslim and Brahman landlords. This group of families also sought to elevate their status by accruing social honour through such means as sanskritization (giving up some of the Agari customs and adopting new customs and cultural symbols), marriage alliances and education. But sanskritization was also very limited and the marriage alliances even among the well-todo followed many of the Agari norms – cross-cousin marriages, gharjavai (husband residing with his wife’s family), marrying close at hand, absence of dowry and absence of hierarchy between the bride-givers and bride-takers. The Agari notion of social honour had some distinct Agari features as well. These notions and the Agari way of life were shared by even the richer sections of the community.

Land and wealth The upper crust among the Agaris, during the early part of the twentieth century, was drawn from landed families. The first and foremost criterion which decided one’s class and thus status within the Agari community was the amount of land owned by the family. In fact the right to vote was granted by the British government to those individuals who paid a certain amount of tax. The franchise in India was restricted to a wealthy class of Indians, determined by property and other qualifications by the Government of India Act, 1935 (Rothermund 1962: 517-518). The families which considered themselves and were considered by others to be of such status were Mhatre (Madhil Pada), Keni and Gondhali (Katal Pada) and Mumbaikar (Mool Pada) from Chirner, Thakurs from Khopata, Mhatre from Koproli, and Raut and Patil from Kalambusare. Actually these surnames represented lineages and usually it was only one or two families from these lineages that enjoyed such elevated status. The remaining families from the lineages did not always match with these leading families. Besides, not all families succeeded in maintaining this status over a long period of time. As of

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now many of the families have lost much of the prestige that they enjoyed earlier and there are some other families which have risen above their relatively humble status. While land was one source of wealth and status, many families which did not own much land or even those which did, accumulated additional wealth through trade or entrepreneurial activity. Mhatre from Chirner, for example, had risen to the stature of savkar due to wealth accumulated through trade in grass. The grass was collected from the forest and was transported to Bombay for sale via the creek that inundated the fields in Chirner and opened up in the Arabian Sea near Karanja. Since 1931, the Mhatres had also been involved in the liquor business, which had continued till 1991. The Mumbaikars were another example of a family which did not have much land but had prospered through trade in flowers and liquor. The Thakurs from Khopata owned vessels which they used in the trade of rice, salt and other goods. Thus, enterprising individuals from a family often succeeded in increasing their wealth and consecutively raising their status within the community.

Sanskritization and marriage alliances The status that these families enjoyed was also on account of the process of sanskritization that many of them consciously and proudly underwent. The claim to separate and superior social status came from giving up some of the Agari customs and by taking up Brahmanical values, customs, rituals and also the ‘way of life’ to some extent. However, replacing the ‘way of life’ and even the rituals completely was not always possible. We shall discuss why this was the case. Some customs and rituals were replaced as they stood in the way of a claim for a superior status but that was done without any significant understanding of the principles underlying the Brahmanical rituals. The custom of dej (bride price), for example, was abandoned by some families, although it was not replaced with a compulsory custom of dowry for a very long time (1980s). Even today dowry has not become a norm although it may become so in due course of time. In marriages where the concerned parties decided against dej, sugar would be distributed and the father of the bride would boast of the fact that the bride was given away without the receipt of the bride-price. Dej was more common amongst lower castes, hence associated with low social status within the Brahmanical framework. If dej was not accepted it also meant that the bride’s parents would not eat or drink in her new house until the first child was born. This is reflective of a peculiar Brahmanical practice which signifies the rule under which one does

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not receive anything – even food - where one has given one’s daughter. 5 Earlier the ceremony of the formal betrothal of marriage was a low-key affair and was called batali phodane (breaking open a liquor bottle). On this occasion liquor was served to the guests who attended the betrothal ceremony. This was gradually replaced with a ceremony called cha-pani (tea and snacks). Nowadays, the ceremony is lavish and is called sakharpuda (a box of sugar), 6 which involves a ritual performed by a Brahman. The affluent families arranged marriages among themselves. Many of them had also sought brides from villages placed in other talukas such as Panvel and Pen. A hundred years back, to have an alliance at such a long distance was something which only the affluent could afford. The distance and criteria for a marital match also marked the status of the concerned families. The general pattern in the region even today is of arranging marriages within the village or at least in villages in the immediate vicinity. But the richer among the community back in the early twentieth century sought matches for their daughters or sons from families on par with their own, in terms of land ownership, wealth and also, at times, education. 7 Such matches were few as only the affluent aspired for and could afford such marriages. These are similar to Bourdieu’s ‘extraordinary marriages’ (1997: 54-56) and ‘distant marriages’, which are means of accumulation of ‘symbolic capital’ at the cost of a lot of economic capital. This does not, however, mean that these affluent families did not marry within their own village or into or with families relatively less affluent. Since such rich and affluent families were few, it was not always possible to find an ideal match. Besides, the families shared kinship ties with their less affluent caste men and women. Thus, the boundaries were not so well-defined or rigid. The status of a family had to be constantly negotiated not only through one’s wealth and land, but also through suitable marital alliances, among other things. Cross-cousin marriages between the FZS (Father’s sister’s son) and MBD (Mother’s brother’s daughter) were common across the caste. But in some affluent families this pattern continued through generations, as they were at the same time, hypergamous marriages. Another pattern found commonly among the landed families was marriages in which the bridegroom came to stay with the bride’s family (gharjavai). Residence after marriage was uxorilocal in these cases, i.e. the bridegroom came to stay with the bride in her village, while not necessarily under the same roof as her parents. This was usually when the bridegroom did not have much land or was not allowed to have a share in his own family landholdings due to some familial discord. The bride in such cases received a share in landed property from her

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father and she and her husband settled in her natal village. 8 Usually a gharjavai’s lineage stands out in small villages by his surname if it was a surname uncommon in the village. For instance in the Bhom village predominated by Patil and Mhatre families, a relatively less frequently encountered Thakur lineage stands out. One informant from the Thakur lineage told me My great grandmother must have been a daughter of a rich family and thus must have been a pampered child. Her parents perhaps did not want her to suffer the hardships in a village like Khopata. 9 So they must have gifted her land and she must have settled here.

Cross-cousin marriages and the custom of gharjavai were prevalent across all types of families, both affluent and poor. It was also common to bring a gharjavai through crosscousin marriages. This was easy because if the bridegroom was a cross-cousin he was already a close family member. Below the thin stratum of a handful of affluent families, were a number of intermediate and poor peasant families. The majority of the marriages took place among these sections of the community. The poor peasants owned just enough land for subsistence or no land at all. The marital alliances among these families were based on somewhat different criteria than those mentioned earlier. The general pattern was to marry within the same village or within the vicinity. Love marriages, which were sanctioned by parents at a later stage, were also not uncommon. Bourdieu’s ‘ordinary marriages’ are of this type (ibid.). The affluent among the Agaris shared kinship and marital ties with their less affluent brethren. They shared a ‘way of life’ which was distinct from the savkarshahi 10 and the pandharpeshe. Despite all their attempts to adapt more sanskritized customs and rituals, the way of life remained that of an Agari peasant. Yet their aspirations for upward social mobility and prestige had some bearing on the kind of political commitments they wanted to make.

The non-brahman identity through life-cycle rituals: dhavalarin, dak and balipratipada The historical trajectories of the transformation of the life-cycle rituals of the community suggest that they were at some point of time performed without a Brahman. Many of the rituals even today do not require a Brahman. These facts point towards the non-Brahman character of the community’s identity. The first rituals (tijora, pachavi) after the birth of a

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child and her naming ceremony are performed without the Brahman. The marriage today requires the Brahman, but for a very brief period on two occasions. The first occasion is for the ritual of halad 11 and the second occasion is when the garlands are exchanged. Otherwise the marriage rituals, spread over four to five days, are performed exclusively by the Agari female priest called dhavalarin, 12 in accompaniment with the dhavalas - marriage sermons that she sings. The Agari community has given up the ritual of dak ghalane (to invite the spirit of the deceased) performed after a death, since the last twenty to thirty years. These days a Brahman performs the death rites. On repeated inquiries, my Agari informants emphasized that they do not any more perform dak and that they denounce it for its superstitious content. It was an age-old practice, performed by an Agari priest called daki. In this ritual, one of the relatives of the deceased gets possessed and is believed to speak on behalf of the deceased. The nonBrahmanical stance that this ritual takes up is interesting. 13 A festival which unambiguously marks the Agari community’s non-Brahman and peasant identity is Diwali, which comes in the months of October-November. The first day of Bali pratipada has not lost its importance even today. It is believed that on this day king Bali pays a visit to his subjects, who in the Brahmanical literature is called the demon king who was pushed to the patal (hell) by Vaman, a Brahman ascetic boy. Therefore, on this day the kana 14 of a chauk (a peculiar square-shaped drawing) is drawn, symbolizing the king Bali. Five mounds of cow-dung are placed on it – on the four corners and at the center. These mounds are decorated with flowers and worshipped. On this day, the house is cleaned and the garbage cleared from the house is put in a winnowing basket with a lamp placed on it and kept outside the house. In the house, painted footprints are decorated with designs drawn with rice flour. The dirt and dust refers to the evil and the footprints and cow-dung mounds represent Bali on a visit to his subjects. This symbolizes the entry of the king Bali. Earlier the Mahar (an untouchable caste) men and women, on the day of Bali pratipada visited the peasant households asking for alms and reciting the saying - ida pida talo baliche rajya yevo (let all the evils vanish and let the rule of Bali be reinstalled). This saying is common not only in this region but all over rural Maharashtra. The arrival of Bali is a real event. The months of November and December are months of the harvest, and the resulting prosperity marks the arrival of Bali. Peasants often use the arrival of Bali as reference point in time, for instance, ‘Bali raja ala ki…(when the

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king Bali arrives...) we will mend the bandh (Kharland dikes).’ I will mention in this chapter when I discuss the Kharpatil lineage and also in the following chapter, the system prevalent in the Kharpatil lineage regarding their rights to the creek. Here it will suffice to say that even today, the change in the turn (rights) from one group of families to the other group of families over the fish catch from the ughad (the sluice gate to the creek water) takes place on the day of Bali pratipada. One of my elderly Agari female informants, completed the original saying thus - Bali raja raj kara, kanya kumari raj kara, bataki dasi raj kara (let King Bali rule, let daughters and girls rule, let female slaves and maid servants rule), indicating that the Bali raj had a deeper cultural meaning. During the pre-Independence time, the Agari cultural ethos, with the sanskritizing trend yet to gain momentum and make inroads, must have been in stark contrast with the patriarchal Brahmanical ethos.

Virility and social honour: co-wives and male progeny Having progeny, especially male progeny, was considered as an addition to the social honour of a family. This stress on male progeny and the woman’s productive capacity and thereby her status were closely linked. One of my informants put it this way Eight sons were valuable then. Sons were considered valuable and not money, as it is considered today. While arranging marriages also, the girl who had more brothers or the family which had more sons was preferred. These days money can buy votes and many other things.

Having progeny spelt power, as it meant having persons to contribute to the agricultural work and the income of the family. If they were male children, they were even more valuable as they carried the name and lineage forward. One way of having more sons was having more than one wife. A second wife in herself was also a means of acquiring social prestige. The upwardly mobile families often resorted to this practice. Marrying two wives and having sons were indicators of power and status for which men strived, especially during the pre-Independence days. These were seen as a luxury which only the rich could afford. The immediate common pretexts for a second wife when the first one was alive would usually be the first wife’s inability to bear children, or, more specifically, male children. But a pretext was not always needed. A second wife was also valuable as an experienced person in agricultural work, who would contribute to the labour requirements of the household. Thus, although it was the affluent who could have two wives, they were usually the landed families. For instance, consider the family of Baraku Chirlekar which held some twenty-five acres of

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land (we will discuss this social bandit from Chirner later in this chapter), or the family of Thakurs (Khopata). There were several instances of co-wives in these families. All of Baraku’s paternal uncles had two wives. Baraku himself had two wives. It was definitely considered a matter of prestige, a sign of his virility which added to his clout as a bandit (see the figure 6.1). On the other hand, co-wives were generally portrayed as quarrelsome and competitive which perhaps complemented this notion of virility. The famous legend of savaticha kada (dangerous cliff of co-wives) aptly captures the popular imagination regarding the jealousy and cunning of co-wives. One of my informants narrated the story to me. Once, two savats (co-wives) went up the hill in the jungle behind Chirner village where the cliff (kada) is situated. As both sat down on the rock, the elder one with malicious intentions requested the younger one, “Let me clean your hair. It is full of lice”. The younger one smelled something fishy and as she sat in front of the elder one she secretly tied the end of her pallu 15 to the pallu of the elder one. The elder one being unaware of this, naively pretended to comb the younger one’s hair. On a opportune moment, she pushed the younger one down the climb; and she herself also went down with the younger one as their saris were tied together.

The ideal of marrying two wives was also eulogized through Khandoba, a revered and fearsome family god among the conglomeration of family deities (for a description see the discussion on the family deities in Chapter Eight). The narrative around Khandoba is interesting. He had two wives – Mhalasa and Banubai. One of the songs goes thus, ‘oh, virtuous is my beloved Khandoba, the one who is the lord of two wives’ (Khanderaya majha guni, don bayakancha dhani). One of my informants portrayed the character of a peasant, called Vithya who was much feared and was popularly known as ‘Kalya’ Vithya, in the following manner. He was one of the nine convicted (out of forty-seven accused) in the Jungle Satyagraha (1930) and punished for rioting (Patil V. 1998: 109). ‘Kalya’ Vithya derived his pet name Kalya from his dark complexion. He symbolized terror in the village. He had also participated in the Jungle Satyagraha. He was not afraid of anyone. He was short tempered and whenever he walked down the road one did not know how to react to him. If one called (hak marane) or greeted him then he would lose his temper for daring to talk to him. If one avoided greeting him out of fear, he would lose his temper for failing to pay reverence to him. On one occasion he beat Bapu Khot’s brother. His ear bled. Even thereafter, when he met Bapu Khot, khot was hospitality personified. (Out of fear) he treated ‘Kalya’ Vithya with great respect and offered him a seat….Whenever ‘Kalya’ Vithya strolled with his wife, he would put on a turban and walk stylishly with pride. It was believed that the temper and courage was in ‘Kalya’ Vithya’s blood. This

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had also flown into the blood of his sons. His sons were of similar character and the eldest among them, Shantya Vithya, had an affair with his own step-mother, second wife of ‘Kalya’ Vithya. She bore him a child and he was also of the same character. Their family line (vansha) did not grow due to these vices, which were a part of his family.

The fearlessness, physical power, and ability to create awe among people having sons and marrying two wives all constituted and added to one’s virility. It was believed to be the inherited (part of one’s blood) character and therefore, automatically transferred to sons. Not being able to bear children, especially a son, meant discontinuation of one’s family line. It was strongly believed to be a sign of lack of virility. The virility however had an ethical code of morality attached to it. As my informant told me ‘the family line did not grow due to these vices which were (inherited) part of his family’. In this case the incestuous relation was seen as a violation of this code. In another case, the vansha of one of the brothers did not grow, one of the descendants told me, because he had been involved in a theft, which was also considered a violation of this code of morality. Although the practice of co-wives has become a thing of past, I came across a few instances in the village where men had married a second wife. My female informants often told me that not being able to bear a child, specifically a male child, was always taken as a fairly justified pretext to divorce or desert a wife. One of the women described to me how after ten years of marriage, as she was not able to bear a child, her in-laws had pressurized her for a divorce. But she did not give into their pressure. The plans for a divorce were neutralized when finally she did deliver a son.

Agari ‘way of life’ The uniqueness of the Agari peasant’s ‘way of life’ lies in the association with land and labour. This ran as a common thread across the various strata within the community. We shall discuss the labour practices in detail in the next chapter. Here we address some other select features of the community’s ‘way of life’ connected to their peasant identity which marked their identity as distinct and low in the eyes of the upper caste. These features are the attire, the language, the diet and some peculiar practices associated with a peasant way of life. They were much more prominent earlier but are noticeable even today. The traditional attire of an Agari peasant man was a loincloth called langot/nangot. This was the most convenient attire while working in the field and creek waters. But the langot was of two types. The white loincloth which one wore while working in the field or tending cattle, was informal attire. A

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larger langot, also called rumal (kerchief) in the form of a large square of colourful cloth was worn diagonally, to give a triangular look, on formal occasions. These days these attires have almost disappeared but it is not very uncommon to find old men sporting a garment of this kind. The traditional sari which Agari women wore was a nine-yard sari. It was worn in a peculiar style. The Agari way of wearing a sari is referred to as adava nesane (horizontal style). 16 Brahman and other high caste women also wear nine-yard saris but their style of draping is called ubha nesane (vertical style). The adava nesane does not extend below the knee (the term adave is derived from this peculiarity which gives the attire a horizontal look and the ubha nesane, which extends till the heels, a vertical look). The pallu is short in length and tightly tucked near the waist and never left loose. The sari also clings tightly to the body. One end of the sari (kachcha) is pulled tightly from between the legs at the back, between the buttocks, and tucked at the waist. On special occasions, in the Uran and Panvel talukas, alongwith the sari, an Agari woman wore a white cotton cloth over the shoulders, called odhani. This was compulsory especially if one was attending a marriage or a mourning ceremony. The widows were supposed to wear this during the mourning period after their husband’s death. 17 In Pen and Alibag talukas, in addition to the odhani, there was distinct apparel called khonda, made of black sheep wool, and its use was multipurpose. 18 But it was primarily meant to guard a woman’s honour. It is also considered a mode of paying respect to elderly people. The Agari style of dressing was considered ‘unrefined’ in comparison with the so-called sophisticated attire of the high castes. The Agari tongue is a dialect of Marathi. Because of its accent, use of peculiar words and styles of sentence construction, it is not easy to understand, even for a native Marathi speaker. With me, people spoke in the formal Marathi, while among themselves they would switch to the dialect. But older women, who would be either non-literate or just literate, and very small children spoke in the Agari dialect among themselves and with me. The dialect was and still is considered ashuddha (impure) as against the standard Marathi, which is more sanskritized. The Agari cuisine is characterized by a variety of dishes made from rice and its flour. Rice is taken in the form of bhakari (roti – made from steamed rice flour) made in a khapar 19 (earthen pan) on the chul (hearth) and as cooked rice. With rice, preparations of varieties of fishes caught in the village pond or creek are an integral part of the staple diet.

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Generally a family’s supply of fish would be managed by fishing expeditions carried out by one or more of the family members – father, mother, grandmother, grandfather or children. These days a variety of pulses are available – moog, chavali, and vaal. Dried fish is also an integral part of the daily diet. Bhakari and sukat (dry fish) are relished as a popular combination for breakfast or quick meal between meals. Weber (1970: 188) has mentioned caste as an extreme form of status group where the power enjoyed is derived mainly from ‘social honour’ and not from one’s class or political authority. Social honour in the caste system is inherited and cannot be acquired. However, sanskritization is a process in which some claims are made in the name of social honour. In this sense, the upwardly mobile section within the community of Agaris represents a status group. Although they primarily derived their elevated status from their economic well-being, the claim to higher status also came from several other factors which were non-economic. The Agari notion of social honour had some Brahmanical ideals but it also had some ideals derived from their peasant and non-Brahman worldview. The customs of gharjavai and crosscousin marriages were not exactly Brahmanical ideals. The life-cycle rituals and the festival of Bali pratipada are examples which show that the community held non-Brahman cultural notions and followed a ‘way of life’ which came strongly in the way of successful sanskritization. Some sixty years back when erosion of these non-Brahman characteristics was much less the Agari peasantry shared a very strong sense of identity which was antithetical to the Brahmans, whom they referred to as savkarshahi or pandharpeshe.

Savkarshahi/pandharpeshe versus Kunabi/shetkari/Agari The ethnographic evidence suggests that the situation was complex and needs a closer understanding of this upper stratum among the Agaris. There were some families with whom the interests of the common Agari peasants clashed. For example, the Thakur family from Khopata had acquired the designation of khot in the 1930s and the Mhatre family in Chirner was called savkar. The Marathi play Kool Kayada written by B. L. Patil, an associate of N. N. Patil, was a commentary on the khoti system and its excesses. It was staged in Khopata around 1947, and my informants recalled that it was based on the Thakur family of Khopata that was seen as a family of landlords which wielded much power over its tenants. Families such as Thakur, Mhatre and Mumbaikar often claimed a superior status to the humbler lot.

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However, for the peasants, savkarshahi consisted mainly of the Brahman, Marwari, Bene Israeli, 20 Sonar savkars and Muslim landlords. Therefore, in Chirner, when peasants revolted against the savkarshahi it was the middle peasants who took the lead. They did not turn their wrath on the Agari landlords. The affluent Agaris did not really share their concern but yet they were not considered a part of the savkarshahi. The savkarshahi was also distinguished by another term called pandharpeshe. This demarcated not only economic differences but also the ‘way of life’ which was distinct from the Agari peasants. This was the time when a salaried job was considered lowly by the Agari peasants as compared to one’s own family farm. A salaried job implied subordination whereas tilling one’s own land or drawing income from land indicated self-reliance and independence. The exploitation perpetrated by the savkars took various forms. Several anecdotes were narrated to me, which mocked at the unlawful ways adopted by the savkars to suck the blood out of the non-literate peasants. One quite famous one is referred to as algun phalgun shimaga holi. This rhythmic expression became symbolic of the mean tactics of the savkars to exact maximum profits and was used by the leaders of peasants to refer to this system of exploitation. The expression indicates how the savkars fooled the non-literate peasants by making false entries about the details of loans in their account books. While making entries for the duration of loan they counted four months in place of one. Algun, falgun, shimaga and holi refer to one and the same month- i.e., Falgun, the last month in the Hindu calendar. Algun is a rhyming word having no meaning. The festival of Holi comes in the month of Falgun. And Shimaga is the Agari synonym for Holi. In short these different terms actually refer to the same month that is, Falgun. Since there were entries of three extra months in place of one month it increased the amount of interest for the savkars. After the harvest, usually the entire produce would be brought to one place called dastan, where the savkars measured it and took their share. 21 The proportion of rent which the savkar took from the produce of a peasant used to be very high. When the Chari and Bhendkhal strikes broke out in the 1930s, the savkar was claiming as much as 12 out of every 20 mans (khandi). According to the local measure a khandi consisted of twenty mans (see Chapter Five, the section on Bhendkhal strike). This share which the savkar took was called makta. It included revenue, the savkar’s interest or rent or the khot’s commission. Presently, on an average, an acre fetches around two to three khandis of rice provided there is no crop failure due to drought or floods caused by heavy rains. Some peasants even manage to

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produce four khandis. In the past, with only indigenous varieties of rice, and no fertilizers and pesticides, the yield was nearly half of what one gets today. The yield for some special varieties was even lower. Out of the remaining eight mans of the peasant’s share; additional quantities were deducted under the heads of vaan, fasaki and pendha. These heads defied any sense of logic that one could think of. For example, vaan referred to the grain deducted on account of transport charges (from the dastan to the savkar’s own house). Fasaki referred to the marks of count that the savakar’s assistant put as he counted the grains. The assistant put one handful of grain (fasaki) to mark one man of grain. These grains would come to a sizeable portion and would go into the savakar’s share. The grains deducted under the head of pendha were the price of the dried straw, available after the crop was cut, which the peasant took to thatch his hut or to feed his cattle. Given this situation in which the Agari peasant was pitted against the Marwari and Brahman savkars and khots, the struggle for Independence during this period symbolized for the Agari peasants their distinct aspirations. The peasantry was looking forward to Independence with much eagerness and high expectations. An old female informant once explained to me the meaning of swatantrya (Independence) to me in the following manner – The Brahmans and the Muslims, the savkars, came from outside and took our land. Jungle Satyagraha released the jungle from the clutches of British and Salt Satyagraha released salt from the clutches of British. Independence released our lands.

The freedom struggle symbolized the ‘freedom’ of jungle, the ‘freedom’ of salt and the ‘freedom’ of land from the clutches of British and the savkars. Therefore, immediately after India was declared Independent, the dastan (storehouses) of the grains owned by the savkars were looted by the Agari peasants.

6.3 Class, kinship and politics During the 1930s and 1940s N. N. Patil became a well known name in Uran taluka after he settled in Panvel. He had played a key role in challenging the power of the infamous Bapu Khot of village Vindhane (Patil 1994: 29-32). He had even managed to win the election for the Local Board from the region in 1929 by defeating a local candidate, Laxman Gopal Mhatre from Koproli (ibid.: 33). Later, in 1939, he was to play a key role in organizing the strike in Bhendkhal (ibid.: 65) (see Chapter Five). His autobiography reveals that his association with the Congress had always been ambiguous. 22 It became even more strained

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after he won the Legislative Council election in 1930 from Kolaba, which the Congress had boycotted. Patil’s association with the Brahmanetar Paksha (ibid.: 37-40) strained the relationship with Congress beyond repair. In the region however, the Congress remained active and had a substantial following among the peasants, especially during the Civil Disobedience movement of 1930 (ibid.: 38). Agaris in Chirner do not fail to mention two significant developments during the period of 1930s. One was the Jungle Satyagraha at Akkadevi, Chirner on 25th September, 1930. The Congress leaders from Panvel with the help of Congress loyalists from Chirner had organized a series of Jungle Satyagrahas in this region. In his autobiography Patil states The fact that I had entered the Legislative Council when there was a boycott [by the Congress on the Legislative Council elections], did not go well with the Congress. But since I was quite popular among the peasant population they could not really avoid me (ibid.).

As a result N. N. Patil had been present for various campaign meetings and Satyagrahas organized by the Congress. The Chirner Satyagraha of 25th September created havoc in the region as seven Satyagrahis died in police firing along with the Mamalatdar and four police officials. Around forty men from Chirner and neighbouring villages, almost all of whom were Agari peasants, were charged of rioting and murder. Since the British government unleashed a reign of terror through its police force for several months in search of the accused Satyagrahis, N. N. Patil stepped in to counter it. In recognition of his competence, contribution and involvement, he was appointed to the non-governmental inquiry committee, set up by Sarvajanik Sabha, Pune and Bombay Provincial Congress Committee, for a fair investigation of the incident (DGR 1993: 170). He played a key role in the successful release of the accused.

Modes of informal power Social banditry: Baraku Chirlekar and his band The other development which looms large in the collective memory is the emergence of the band of Baraku Chirlekar 23 and their refusal to pay the makta to the savkars. The band is important in our analysis for two reasons. Firstly, on the one hand it had become a centre of informal power in and around the village of Chirner. It had thrown an effective challenge to the powerful savkars in the region, but on the other hand it had also created awe and a sense

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of terror among the Agari peasants of other villages. Secondly, in the post-Independence period, long after the death of Baraku Chirlekar in 1944, some of the men from his band subsequently played an important role in the politics of the region. As young men, Baraku and some of his band members had participated in the Satyagraha of 1930. However, his gang was making its presence felt in the village even before 1930. Since, after the Satyagraha, he escaped the clutches of the police and thus defied law, his power grew in the village and he became some sort of a terror not only for the savkarshahi in Chirner and the neighbouring villages but also for the peasants. The band of Baraku had directed all the Agari peasants not to pay the rent to the savkars. Those who violated this dictum were punished, usually by depriving them of their farm produce. Through the lifehistory of one of his closest aides, KP (from the Kharpatil lineage) we can see how Baraku Chirlekar rose in the village to be a power center. Had Barakusheth [Chirlekar] had the political acumen 24 he would have been another version of Nana Patil of Satara. But he [Baraku] only fought against the savkarshahi…at that time we did not know what politics was. Only those who were paying one hundred rupees or more of agricultural tax had the right to vote….Barakusheth was a gangster, he was a rebel. [He used] to break the roof tiles of savkarshahi, break the doors of savkarshahi and threaten savkarshahi – “give [us] concession of two man for a khandi [or] give [us] concession of five man for a khandi”…In this village the Satyagraha happened and such a situation was created. Nobody would come to the village. Outside the village if one talked about Chirner, they would say ‘You killed the police. They would kill you. They would loot you.’ It was such a bad state of affairs. People were afraid of this village. Nobody would come. British were also afraid of being posted in this village. Such was the condition. This was in 1930. In 1938, Barakya Chirlekar’s gang grew really large. They started troubling the savkar a lot…he had also participated [in the Jungle Satyagraha]. But he was not punished and therefore savkars were scared of him.

In fact Baraku Chirlekar was one of the forty-seven accused whom the British government rounded up after the Jungle Satyagraha and the death of police men and the Mamalatdar (Patil V. 1998: 67). While eighteen accused were declared innocent, Baraku Chirlekar was among the twenty accused who were fined for cutting the trees in the jungle. Cutting the teak trees from the jungle was a part of the Civil Disobedience movement. The other nine accused were served with minor terms of imprisonment (ibid.: 106-110). KP continues -

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During his (Baraku Chirlekar) reign I became his henchman, his bodyguard, his chief minister, the way a raja (king) requires a senapati (commander in chief). Within the seventeen villages – we would go to any village, we would kill anybody, and we would loot from anywhere. We got used to such evil ways. Due to such a chaotic atmosphere of lawlessness, there broke out a row between Kalambusare village and Chirner village. And in the ensuing fight, our Barakya, my brother, my paternal cousin and my cousin’s son were killed. …There was a Bapu Khot. [Earlier] Bapu Khot had declared ‘Barakya Chirlekar should be killed. I shall pay anything.’ Once I, Barakya Chirlekar’s brother and CR, three of us went to his house, pelted stones, broke his door…We would come back and throw stones again. We could not get hold of him…We went to Dighode village. There was one Damusheth. He also had a gang. And that gang was the private army of the khot. The khot told them ‘Cut these three people into tiny pieces. It is up to me to release you (from the police).’ All twenty-five men came to Dighode. We were in Dighode. Barakya Chirlekar came to know that KP, JC and CR have gone to Dighode and the khot had sent a gang to kill them. He put ten to twenty people in the bus. That time he had a [bus] service. Just then the khot’s gang was coming from Vindhane. After seeing Barakya Chirlekar [our gang] they were scared, they dropped the weapons and bowed before us. Barakya Chirlekar put us in the bus and sent us back. This was the tussle between khot and Barakya Chirlekar.

Baraku’s grandson and great grandson told me that Baraku had a large gang. According to their estimate there were more than eighty members in his gang. Another close aide was GP from Mool Pada. He was the brain behind the activities of Baraku but died early, in 1932. There were incessant struggles for power even between the landlords. For instance, the Bapu Khot of Vindhane, and Tungekar of Dhakati Jui and Borkhar openly engaged in wars which were played out in the villages through their private armies or hired men. The men who waged the gang-wars and those who were looted were both Agari peasants. Tungekar owned approximately 6000 acres of land (according to one informant) and the land was spread all over the Uran taluka. 25 All the agricultural land of Borkhar and Dhakati Jui belonged to Tungekar. The adjacent village of Vindhane and its surrounding land came under the jurisdiction of Bapu Khot. Another informant interpreted Baraku Chirlekar’s raid on the Dhakati Jui village in this manner. According to him, it was on Tungekar’s request to avenge Bapu Khot, that Baraku looted the village Dhakati Jui and Borkhar. Why would Tungekar want his own village to be looted? It seems from the general conditions in other villages that the Agari community was internally divided and the divisions jostled for the control of the informal as well as formal power positions within the village. Often two or more villages were pitched against each other. These divisions could be traced through kinship and marital linkages, income differences and through several other modes of assuming and displaying

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power. The landlords made use of these factions and played games against each other, mainly for the control of land and power. One of the informants from Chirner put it thus – savkar kulanchya zombi lavit – ‘the savkars used to pitch their tenants against each other.’ It was a similar case with Chirner and Kalambusare village. As KP tells us – But our village (Chirner) and Kalambusare village got into a row. We were against the khot. The khot also…and four people were killed in Kalambusare because of the khot’s orders. In the fight between khot and us, GG’s father also got killed. I and JC fought with AM (Mhatre)… There became two gangs. Some fifty men were with him and fifty men with us. One night [there would be an] attack on their house. On other nights [there would be an] attack on our houses. This went on for at least a year. DM from A’s (Mhatre) gang was killed.

Due to these internal fractions and their tussles, there are conflicting stories about the band of Baraku Chirlekar. People from the neighbouring villages have stories of raids and looting by Baraku Chirlekar’s gang. GS, 26 (80) a woman from Vindhane described how Baraku Chirlekar had looted the village Dhakati Jui. This was confirmed by another old woman ADJ (75) born in Dhakati Jui in 1930 who was married into Bhom village in 1947, and today earns her living as a dhavalarin. ADJ animatedly and forcefully narrated stories about Baraku Chirlekar’s band and its activities. She had experienced and also had heard from others about the terror that his raids unleashed. This came vividly alive in her description. Dhakati Jui was one of the villages where Baraku Chirlekar’s gang used to pay regular visits. He (Baraku Chirlekar) was a dacoit. Men used to run away into the field whenever the gang attacked. He used to loot villages, steal fowls, goats, scant beddings from the houses of the farmers. The conditions of our people were not so good at that time. And it was for good that God descended in the village of Kalambusare. The gang of Baraku [which hailed] from all seven padas had once looted the Kalambusare village. They had taken away goats and were about to cook the meat when they felt they needed another pair of goats. So they all went to the village in a gang. In their gang there were Kathodi [the Katkari tribe] and Mirashi [the Mahar caste] people. The people of Kalambusare knew that they were to come. God had descended to their village and they had decided to teach them a lesson. They mixed chilly powder in the water and kept weapons such as bhala (spear) and barachi (lance) ready. When the gang came in, the spices were thrown into their eyes and five men were killed by the people of Kalambusare.

Across villages, men and women had different versions of the motives of Baraku Chirlekar’s visit to Kalambusare village on that fateful day. A version given by these two women indicates that on 5th December 1944 when some members of Baraku’s gang went to Kalambusare village to get hold of some booty, the villagers of Kalambusare came to know of

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their plan and they - men and women - were ready with chilly powder, stones and all sorts of weapons. These men were attacked. When Baraku came to know about this, he rushed in and in the process was killed. However, there are different versions of the same episode. According to an Agari male informant in Kalambusare village, when Baraku Chirlekar, GD (Kharpatil), GR (GD’s cousin) and DB (GD’s father) went on that day to the village Kalambusare, it was to sort out the matter concerning GD’s wife. She was from an illustrious family (Patil) from the village and had refused to stay with GD. Baraku Chirlekar it seems was acting as the mediator and had gone to convince the woman to come back. This account was confirmed by another informant from Chirner. Another version says that the villagers of Kalambusare were tipped off by a respectable man from the Mhatre family, DM, who was a rival of Baraku’s gang and had relations with Patil family. Another dimension added to the incident is that the khot from Vindhane, Bapu Khot, had abetted with the villagers of Kalambusare to get Baraku killed, for he had become sort of terror for landlords and savkars in the region. Following this incident, the relations between Kalambusare and Chirner soured to such an extent that there was no exchange of brides and no communication whatsoever for a very long time. I have mentioned earlier that such quarrels between villages, between factions of a village or between groups of villages were not uncommon in those days. Neither was it uncommon for these quarrels to take violent turns. The murder during the Bhendkhal (See Chapter Four) strike is another example of such tendencies within the community. The men in these bands all belonged to the Agari caste and in that sense shared a lowly position in the village hierarchy as Agari peasants. Moreover, among the Agaris, the band members (including Baraku Chirlekar), were neither the most affluent nor the poorest of all. Perhaps it is more appropriate to club them in the middle rung of the peasantry. An account of the history of some of these families would be relevant over here. The Chirlekars of Chincha pada, Chirner Chirlekars were among the first few to have come and reclaimed the Kharland in Chirner in the nineteenth century. According to the family the first person of the Chirlekar lineage to come to Chirner was GC. He was a shepherd. He came from Pen and settled in Chirle, a

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nearby village in Uran taluka, for two years. From there he came to Chirner. It was his enterprising son AC who reclaimed some twenty-five acres of land situated between Bhom Kharland and Chirner Kharland. Even today the responsibility of maintaining the bunds and the right to take the catch of fish through the sluice gates (ughad) for this piece of land lies with the Chirlekars. AC was an enterprising man. He was a good carpenter and had built giant wheels made of wood. These Giant Wheels were run at the annual fairs held during the Hindu month of Chaitra. In Pen and Uran talukas, the wheels of the Chirlekar family had a monopoly. After his demise, the responsibility to run these wheels fell on his sons, JC and Baraku Chirlekar. JC took the responsibility of Uran taluka while Baraku confined himself to the Pen taluka. It was during one of these trips that a marital alliance between Baraku’s son DC and Bhagirathi, daughter of an Agari landlord from Raayave, Suka Mahadu Patil, materialized. By the time of DC, the Giant Wheels were no longer their monopoly and the competition had increased. In due course it was given up. While the immediate descendants of Baraku Chirlekar abstained from politics of any kind after his gruesome murder in Kalambusare, his nephew AJC (son of his brother KC) entered politics through the Congress. This in some way went against Baraku’s political leanings, as his closest associates joined the SKP. It was only later on, around 1980, that VC, Baraku’s

grandson,

entered

the

SKP

for

a

very

brief

period.

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GC

=

=

=

= AC

=

=

=

KC

= Baraku

JC

(Kharpatil, Madhil Pada)

AJC

DC (Raayave, Pen) = SC

VC

(the cross indicates the persons killed in Kalambusare in 1944) Figure 6.1 The Chirlekar family, Chincha pada, Chirner

The Kharpatils of Madhil Pada, Chirner In Chirner, during the pre-Independence period, Bhagwant Hari Shringarpure, an advocate and absentee landlord owned some 200-250 acres of Kharland. His father had served in the British army and had won a prize for an act of bravery. With this prize money his father bought this land in Chirner creek in the middle of the nineteenth century from the British government, walled the creek, reclaimed the land and brought it under cultivation with the help of several tenant families. These were Agari peasant families brought from Pen and Alibag taluka. Several families from the lineage of Narangikars, who had migrated to Chirner from Narangi, in Alibag, were his tenants. Other tenants of his were drawn from other lineages – Thakurs (Ranjan Pada), Dungikar (Madhil Pada) – to name a few. All of these tenants were new entrants in the village. Therefore all of them were settled in Madhil Pada, Ranjan Pada and Chincha Pada - the padas settled in a more recent period. To avoid the hassles connected with collecting the rent (makta) from these tenants, the responsibility was handed over to one among them, Balu Narangikar. He came to be known as Kharpatil, 27 as he was the patil (head) of the khar, the land reclaimed from the creek. The descendants of Balu

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Narangikar thus came to be known as Kharpatils. The Kharpatil lineage today consists of around 250-300 individuals. An indication of these earlier connections with the Narangikar lineage is that the kuladaivat or kutumbache dev (family deities) of the Kharpatils and Narangikars are the same. Homage is to be paid to these deities during the Navratri festival. Traditionally, a compulsory visit is required by a representative of every family belonging to the Narangikar lineage. Thus, not only the Narangikars but also the Kharpatils pay respect to the gods which are worshipped in a Narangikar household (see Chapter Eight for a discussion of family deities). Balu Narangikar was appointed as the patil because he had eight sons. During those times, having so many male progeny was considered to be an asset. It spelt power, both physical as well as social. For Balu Kharpatil to collect the rent from deterring tenants would not have been difficult with eight sons. This allocation of an office must have invested in the family much power. The pattern of collecting the revenue by these Agari peasant assistants reflected at least some patterns similar to those employed by the non-Agari landlords, Marwaris and Brahmans. The Kharpatil revenue collectors managed to squeeze out the maximum amount of paddy from the tenant farmers as they had a share in these collections. After each of the brothers got married and their families grew in numbers, the eight brothers started taking turns at it. Each year two of the eight brothers collected the revenue and took a commission on it. Balu Kharapatil’s lineage was closely associated with Baraku, through the gang and also through marriage. Baraku’s second wife was from the Kharpatil lineage. This association was also evident from Baraku’s role in mediating in GD’s family concern (see earlier section). After tenancy was abolished, the right of the Kharpatils to collect the revenue had to be given up. However, Kharpatils retained a monopoly over the ughad (sluice gates) of Chirner. The catch of fish in this ughad was a part of their payment when they were the revenue collectors. Even today, the descendants of the eight brothers take turns in getting a share of the catch. Each year, after the harvest, the catch rotates from descendants of one pair of brothers to the descendants of another pair of brothers. Each family gets a share in the catch

every

four

years.

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Balu Narangikar/Kharpatil

BB

GB

GD

DB

RB

CB

HB

KP

MB

HB

GR

(Close associate of Baraku Chirlekar, killed with Baraku)

(the crosses indicate individuals who were killed in Kalambusare in 1944) Figure 6.2 The Kharpatil family of Madhil Pada, Chirner

The Patils of Mool Pada, Chirner GP from the Patil family of Mool Pada was a predecessor and close associate of Baraku Chirlekar. The Patil family does not remember any history of migration. According to them, they were the original inhabitants of Chirner. Originally, they carried the surname Gharat which was changed after GP became the police patil (a hereditary post with a salary during the British rule). In course of time the Patils separated from their earlier Gharat lineage. GP, like Baraku Chirlekar, was relatively well-off as he owned some fifteen acres of land, a fairly large amount to elevate his status among the general Agari populace. But he lost these fifteen acres of land to Mahajan savkar in 1925. Perhaps after that he took to banditry. GP died in 1932 and his death brought much hardship to the Patil family. Even so, the association between the Patil and Baraku Chirlekar’s family continued. PP, GP brother, was also an associate of Baraku Chirlekar. It was through PP that the Patil family came to be associated with Dinkar Balu Patil, Datta Patil and Tukaram Vajekar, the leaders of the SKP (discussed in the

previous

chapter)

and

subsequently

joined

the

party.

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JP

NJ

BJ

= GP

A

PP

(Close associate (Keni, Katal Pada, Chirner) of Baraku) = BG

Y (Mhatre Koproli, Uran)

= (Gadab, Pen)

Figure 6.3 The Patil family Mool Pada, Chirner

The Thakurs of Dhasakhoshi, Khopata The richer families in the village and the region who were related through marriage and were pitted against the band of Baraku were the Mhatres from Chirner, the Patils and Raut from Kalambusare, the Thakurs from Khopata and the Mhatres from Koproli. The Mhatres of Chirner and Koproli had their daughters married to the Thakurs of Khopata. The Patils of Kalambusare had given their daughters to Mhatres of Chirner The marital alliance between these families was obviously arranged keeping in mind the social and economic position the respective families held in the community. The Thakurs of Khopata were the khots of their village and were the richest among the Agaris, perhaps in the entire eastern part of Uran. According to the family history, the family held some sixty acres of land in the early twentieth century. It went up to 350 acres when the Marwari landlord who owned much of the land in this area sold it to the family in around 1930. In addition, they had several sea-vessels which were used for trade of various kinds.

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Joma (c. 1830)

DJ (c. 1855)

=

= SD

JD

(c. 1880) =

= JS

(c. 1905)

KD (Mhatre, Madhil Pada, Chirner)

NJ (1930) Figure 6.4 The Thakur family of Khopata

The Mhatres of Madhil Pada, Chirner The Mhatres in Chirner village (Madhil Pada), on the other hand, were also a wealthy and respected lineage. They were referred to as savkar, a rare attribution for any Agari in those times. The house of Mhatres held a central position within the village community. For a very long time, they were the initiators and patrons of the Ram Janmotsav (birthday celebration of Lord Ram), which took place every year in the month of Chaitra. They had built the temple of Ram and it was their honorable right therefore to initiate the ritual in the temple every year. The festival is celebrated even today, but since the family has seen its fortunes decline, the festival has also lost its earlier glory. The right to light the bonfire during Holi festival also rested with them.

Formal modes of power: electoral politics Shetkari Kamgar Paksha and the peasant politics 28 In the post-Independence period, with universal adult suffrage and the local political structure in the form of Panchayati Raj, the informal modes of politics became somewhat irrelevant

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although they did not disappear instantly. The feuds (for instance, Baraku’s death and the revenge killing) which were a regular feature of village life spilled into electoral politics and it was quite common for electoral campaigns to turn bloody at the slightest of provocations. The SKP was established in 1948. Under the leadership of N. N. Patil, it gradually spread wings into the district, and especially in those talukas (Alibag, Pen, Panvel, Uran) where Agaris were in a majority. Subsequently a loyal band of Agari leaders emerged under the SKP’s umbrella. N. N. Patil passed away in 1968 but his family maintained a powerful presence in the region and within the party. In the following diagram, those members of his family who continue to play a role in SKP politics have been marked in bold. Alibag remained the center for SKP’s politics as the family hailed from this taluka.

Nagu

Mahadibai

= Narayan Nagu Patil

Laxmi

(1892-1968) (Dherand, Alibag)

Sushila

Madhukar= Indu Datta = Pushpa

(Dolavi, Pen)

Prabhakar = Sulabha Shalini=Jayram Shilavati

Meenakshi

Jayant

Pandit

Figure 6.5 Narayan Nagu Patil’s family, Source: (Patil N. 1994)

Uran Some prominent leaders also emerged from other talukas. In Uran we have Dinkar Balu Patil, popularly known as Diba Patil (hereafter D. B. Patil) also a lawyer and leader of the party who led the agitation against the land acquisition by CIDCO for New Bombay between 1977

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and 1984 (see Chapter Five). His father Balu Gauru Patil was one of the first few Agaris to teach in a primary school in Uran taluka and also a close associate of N. N. Patil (Patil N. 1994: 33). D. B. Patil has represented this region from 1957 to 1972 as an SKP candidate for uninterrupted four terms in the Maharashtra State Assembly. He and Datta Patil, N. N. Patil’s second and lawyer son, were among the first Agari MLAs of SKP (in 1957). D. B. Patil was elected to the Lok Sabha in 1977 and again in 1984 from Kolaba district. Balu Gauru Patil

Hari Vajekar

(One of the first few Agari school teachers)

Dinkar Balu Patil = Urmila

Tukaram

(Jasai, Uran)

(Jaskhar, Uran)

(Vashi, Pen)

Figure 6.6 Dinakar Balu Patil, Tukaram Vajekar and their connection with SKP.

In Uran taluka a second rank of SKP leaders emerged in the villages. N. N. Patil had established contacts with peasants in almost all of these villages through sustained hard work. As we know D. B. Patil’s father was his close associate. During the aftermath of the Chirner Jungle Satyagraha, N. N. Patil emerged as the ‘saviour of peasants’ because of his role in the release of the accused. AM was one of the accused from Chirner. It was through him and some others that N. N. Patil remained connected with the village. Immediately after Independence, AM (Mhatre) who was a Congress loyalist became the first Sarpanch as a Congress candidate. But later on he joined SKP. AM and his group were a rival group to Baraku’s gang. One of AM’s gang members DM had his hand in Baraku’s death. After Baraku’s death the fights between the surviving Baraku gang and AM’s gang had increased and had culminated in DM’s death. These equations however, changed after Independence and especially after the abolition of tenancy. KP who was a member of Baraku’s gang and told us the story of Baraku was to join the SKP. From these men in the eastern part of Uran, there emerged a second rank of SKP volunteers. Many of them were erstwhile Congressmen. This was a formidable network. The SKP was involved in the Sanyukta Maharashtra movement (1957-1960) - the movement for a unified linguistic state of Maharashtra, and other agitations against inflation

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or other such anti-people policies. It was because of this vibrant presence of SKP that the Abolition of Tenancy Act was implemented quite effectively in the region (for the changes in the landholding patterns see Chapter Five tables 5.2, 5.3, 5.4 and figures 5.1 and 5.2). This network of leaders mentioned above participated in the Sanyukta Maharashtra movement. Later in the 1970s, they played a significant role in the peasant mobilization against land acquisition by CIDCO for the New Bombay township. Tukaram Gharat from Dhakati Jui, KP from Chirner, Hasuram Mumbaikar from Veshvi were some of the prominent SKP leaders from eastern Uran who went underground during the peasant mobilizations of 1984. Since the senior leaders from Uran west (D. B. Patil and others) were arrested, it was this second rank of SKP leaders who actively mobilized the peasants. Tukaram Gharat one of the SKP leaders from Dhakati Jui, recounts in the following manner the events which finally took a bloody turn In 1984 I took the responsibility to create awareness among the people for the need of an agitation. For four days I and KP went underground. I went from village to village to address meetings and send the messages of the leaders who were in jail. I would disguise and go from village to village. For example, I would wear a shirt and trousers and go to a village telling the SRP that I was visiting my daughter who was married in the village. On 17th January [1984], I was going to a village ahead of Navghar, to deliver a message. A pamphlet was there in my front pocket. I had my meal in Navghar and then went towards the village. The village as usual was guarded by the SRP [State Reserve Police]. When the SRP asked me about the purpose [of my visit] I told them that I was going to meet my family, as two of my sons had not returned from the school. As they were talking to me they noticed that in my pocket there was a pamphlet. The pamphlet was denouncing the CIDCO. On reading it, they learnt about the real purpose of the visit. They beat me up with the rifle butt. After receiving two-three heavy blows, I fell down and became unconscious. When I was brought back to the Navghar village, two of my colleagues got agitated upon knowing about the beating. They rushed towards the SRP in spite of my preventing them from doing so. The SRP were already pissed off and opened fire on these men who confronted them. Two men died in this firing (three more Agari peasants lost their lives, the next day in a similar incident).

Changes in the ‘way of life’: post 1970s Post land acquisition changes in the community life were a prelude to the political scenario in 1980s and thus are important. There is a branch of Akhil Bharatiya Janavadi Mahila Sanghatana in Bokadvira village in western Uran (where the land acquisitions took place). The chief office-bearers of this organization, themselves Agari and residents of this village, painted for me, albeit in fragments, the picture of life before the land acquisitions. The sense

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of loss, it struck me, was much more than just the loss of a piece of land, or a loss of means of livelihood. These changes happened mainly in the western part of Uran but they also affected the eastern part. The women recalled Earlier both men and women worked. Men and women in groups walking towards saltpans, carrying the morning breakfast of a bhakari and sukat (dry fish) was a common scene. However, after land was acquired by CIDCO women lost their traditional employment. Earlier they worked in saltpans, paddy fields and went to catch fish.

On the other hand, as the peasants lost their lands and as their bank accounts swelled, there was an alarming increase in acts of imprudent extravagance and unabashed display of wealth. Many had never seen so much money in their lives. Few knew of ways to wisely invest the money. The haladi celebration, the ritual on the penultimate day of marriage, has always been a highpoint in any Agari wedding, and is always looked forward to by family members and relations with much enthusiasm. With money in hand, these celebrations became extravagant. Money was squandered on liquor and mutton for the guests. The haladi night celebrations thus became an instrument for the display of one’s social and economic means. Over the period they also turned into a compulsion as it became obligatory to reciprocate such treats. The main players in such celebrations were Agari youth and a lot of concern was and is still being expressed in the community for this waste of money, arrogant and vulgar display of wealth and the love for alcohol by the youth. 29 There were several other ways of displaying the new money. Trendy automobiles (four-wheelers and two-wheelers) became a craze among the youth. 30 Lavishly built houses were another means of spending the new money. Another very popular practice is to invest the money in gold ornaments, especially in the mangal sutras for the daughters-in-law. 31 Many women have more than one mangal sutra, which is laden with gold. The price of a single mangal sutra could vary anywhere from ten thousand rupees to one lakh or even more. These are symbols of wealth and prestige for these women and also their men. Such social occasions as marriages or, visits to one’s affinal relations are times when they are to be worn. Within the community, especially among those who have lost their land, this mode of display of one’s own wealth has become a common feature. Their more humble brethren from other parts of the district often half-enviously and half-jokingly mock at this rather blunt display of money. For non-Agaris this crude display of wealth is both a matter of surprise and derision. One of the women volunteers from Bokadvira recalled how a newly appointed IAS officer

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from north India had in a public meeting inquired of another Agari who was sitting next to her about why all the ladies in the audience were donning artificial gold. She could not for a while believe, when she was told that the gold was not fake, but real. Many youths from this region have sought employment in various unskilled and semiskilled jobs in the new industries that have come up in the region. One major avenue is the Jawaharlal Nehru Port and the privately run Container Freight Stations (CFS) and Container Yards (CY) set up for its convenience. 32 The youth from the nearby villages have been employed as labourers to unload and load the containers that are imported/exported through the international port. They are paid one hundred rupees or more per load, depending on the weight of the load. Compare this with the daily wages for agricultural work which ranges between twenty-five to seventy rupees per working day. The daily wages for such skilled jobs as construction work in the village also is Rs. 200 for a working day. It is not surprising that youth in the nearby villages have been vying for jobs in these CFSs and CYs for the handsome returns and additional perks that they fetch. 33 While the job remains an unskilled one, the good pay has made many people monied and opened more channels for the display of wealth. There seems to be an apparent abundance in terms of wealth and luxuries, but there is an accompanying feeling that ‘all is not well’ which runs deep not only in the minds of those who still have their land and thus are not capable of such display, but also among those who are making merry with this new money. Many have already exhausted their funds and are now facing a financial crisis with no means of steady employment available. Acquisition of sudden riches has accentuated the differences within the community and thus has disrupted the social fabric. The villages where people have lost land, and thus have received monetary returns or jobs have started hiring labour at increased wages on the lands which are yet not sold and which they continue to cultivate. As a result there has been an increasing differentiation in the wage structure in the region with teams of agricultural labourers from poorer villages making their rounds to villages which offer more wages. Dowry was virtually non-existent earlier. These days, demands for money, luxurious goods or a job in the New Bombay region for the bridegroom, are becoming more common. Until 1985, the political scene in many of these villages was dominated by the struggle for power between two political parties, namely the SKP and the Congress. Kinship and marital ties were enmeshed in such a way with political loyalties that often family disputes

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took on political colour and political rivalries disrupted familial and kinship relations. On the other hand, marital alliances were formed keeping in mind political connections especially by families aspiring for power. Thus, it was not without reason that the SKP which had a dominating presence in the region for so long came to be called the soyarya 34 dhayaryancha paksha, the ‘party of affines’. After the 1984 incident in which peasants lost their lives, in the assembly elections, SKP swept all the seats in the Agari majority regions. Yet there was a parallel development taking place in the region and the Shiv Sena was emerging as a force to reckon with.

The Shiv Sena ST (35) belongs to the Shiv Sena and is the Zilla Parishad (henceforth ZP) member from the constituency of Chirner 35 , but his uncle DT was a SKP supporter. He was a ZP school teacher and spent only vacations in Chirner as his job postings required him to travel to distant villages. The Shiv Sena was founded in 1966 by Bal Thackeray. In the same year, Shiva Jayanti Utsav (Shivaji’s Birth Anniversary celebrations) was started in the courtyard of DT’s house. In the very next year, a Shiv Sena Gram Panchayat was elected in Chirner. The Shiv Sena thus entered the region as early as 1967. However, the elected members who had contested the elections on Shiv Sena tickets had changed their loyalty to the Congress within three months. The birth anniversary of Shivaji was celebrated within DT’s pada – Ranjan pada - for some years. After that it became a collective affair of the entire village. A grand palanquin procession through all the padas of Chirner village takes place every year on this occasion. ST, DT’s nephew, was influenced by these developments and joined the Shiv Sena in the middle of the 1980s. It was then that the political scene in Chirner had started changing. Till now, the tussle between the SKP and the Congress was actually a tussle between the relatively more powerful sections within the peasantry. In the late 1980s young aspiring educated men from marginal sections of the community entered the Shiv Sena. They were born into peasant families but their worldviews were shaped by a new political philosophy. Balu Mhatre is a case in point. Balu Mhatre was born into a very poor family. His father was an alcoholic and did not contribute anything to the household income. His mother earned through mol majuri (wage labour), but was regularly battered by Balu’s father. As a result, Balu started working at a very young age. When his elder brother left to work in the H & R Johnson Tiles Company in Thane, the entire family migrated there. 36 Balu took a job in a hotel. His mother worked as a

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maid-servant. Later his mother put him to work in the canteen of a company. While he worked, he voluntarily took night-shifts and during the day attended school. For some time all went smoothly. One day a madrasi 37 supervisor beat up an Agari colleague of Balu’s in the canteen. Balu and other Agari canteen workers beat the supervisor in return. The canteen owner was also a south Indian. According to Balu, he stopped Balu’s night-shifts. Therefore he had to discontinue his schooling. In the meantime, he got married. Till 1982, he continued working in hotels in Thane, but regularly got into similar fights. We can see the influence of the Shiv Sena ideology from Balu’s narration, where he sees himself as a Marathi son-of-the soil and his boss as a non-Marathi who dominated and exploited other Marathi men like him. The use of the disparaging term madrasi implies Shiv Sena influence, which also coincided with his native provincialism. In 1982, he returned to his village. He claimed that the village then was not ‘united’ and ‘organized’, but when he came ‘people gathered around’ him. He took the lead and several cultural activities such as dramatic events were started. He became the leader of the village. When Balu Mhatre had just returned from Thane, the matter of the gavthan 38 land came up. The land was owned by a villager from Balu’s village. This land had been mortgaged to a savkar from the village before the Tenancy Act could be implemented. The land was sold to another wealthy villager by the savkar without the knowledge of the real owner. People from the pada fought for the land under the leadership of Balu Mhatre. The village was congested and they needed the land for themselves, they argued. The matter escalated and the fight between the wealthy man and the residents of the pada turned into a police matter. The State Reserve Police force was brought in by the wealthy man and several villagers including Balu Mhatre were beaten up. But the village remained united. Balu Mhatre claimed that it was after this conflict in 1988 that, with the assistance of Ganesh Naik, the then Shiv Sena MLA, a branch of the Shiv Sena was opened in the village. 39 This was the natural option available for Balu Mhatre and his men, as the wealthy Congressmen and leaders of the SKP had joined hands in the matter of the land dispute. It was in this manner that the Shiv Sena officially arrived in the village.

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S

HS

DS

(HS worked in a hotel in Mumbai with Balu Mhatre)

ST Figure 6.7 The Thakur family from Ranjan Pada, Chirner

Politics becomes a commercial enterprise The difference between the politics before the 1980s and after the 1980s was brought to my notice by ST. Around 1984 (this is the year when the struggle of peasants for their land was at its peak), a candidate running for a Gram Panchayat ward could comfortably manage his campaign with a meager amount of 2000-3000 rupees. Even this amount, he asserted, was collected in the form of contributions from villagers. Today, a person contesting for the Gram Panchayat ward has to spend anything from 1.5 to 2 lakh rupees. It has become compulsory for politicians to give away money on various pretexts if they want to maintain their political clout. My informant earned money as an estate agent. He said Politicians today have to earn money through illicit means, because these days no work is done without money. People also want money and they expect it from us. In the last month I spent nearly 30,000 rupees in the prize money for cricket matches.

In fact in almost every village that I visited, all party workers, more so those belonging to the Shiv Sena, worked as estate agents. The Congress and the SKP have been enjoying the benefits of economic development for some time. Political power has reached the hitherto marginal sections of the region through the Shiv Sena, but its ideological commitments are very different from those that the SKP professed. The SKP was more committed to the interests of peasants and drew its support from the peasants. With the Shiv Sena it is different. While the Shiv Sena also drew support from the marginal sections, they were usually the educated unemployed youth, none of whom were peasants. Their political orientations and aspirations were strikingly different from those of the peasants. In 2005, a township plan for which land from Chirner and the surrounding twentyeight villages was to be acquired, was announced and the Tehsil office, the village Talathi

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offices, the local construction businessmen and the political party workers, especially those working as estate agents, were all aware of it. The common people were a bit confused though, and did not know what exactly was going on. These twenty-eight villages were to be a part of the new Khopata township which would fall under the Special Economic Zone (henceforth SEZ) that was to come up in this region. In 2005, SEZ was hardly a known term for the people who were to lose their lands. Some estate agents were already acting as the mediators between the buyers of the land and the peasants. Whereas the old generation leaders of the SKP were looking at the developments with a suspicious eye, the young generation leaders, especially the Congress and the Shiv Sena were in favour of these developments.

6.4 Conclusion In the previous chapter I tried to piece together a larger picture of peasant mobilization in the district. In this chapter, an attempt was made to unravel the intricacies of similar developments in the village and the region. We saw that the differentiation in terms of wealth, land, informal and formal power within and without the community influenced peasant politics. The differences in income and other assets within the community could not lead us to conclude that the various strata within the Agari community were classes (according to our definition given in the earlier part of the chapter). Many of these families, which were earlier considered illustrious, were single households within a given lineage. They often lost their grandeur in due course and other families rose to fame. They did not form more than a thin upper crust. It was through their ‘labour’ that the community – including the upper stratum related to land. Even post-Independence this picture remained the same for a long time. The internal differentiation within the community is a continuation of the earlier patterns. But the average economic status has improved. This improvement in the economic status of the community has relatively reduced the dependence on labour. The upper stratum with more wealth and increased Brahmanization is able to maintain the distance more decisively than earlier. The narrative of this chapter has thus carried forward the story of the caste history of the Agaris. Here, I have pursued the dynamics of intra-caste relations and how it has developed over time. These changes produced a stratum of elites whose influence lay at the meeting point of material and political power, and was sought to be further ratified through the process of sanskritization. Sanskritization was always an incomplete process, however.

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The particular ecological niche occupied by the Agari and their relationship to land and labour produced a certain specific ethos, mode of life and set of social and cultural practices, including gender ideology and practice. While linguistic, sartorial and culinary practices formed part of this cultural complex, modes of alliance and configuring of gender (gender and division of labour are discussed in the next chapter) are also very significant. Even so, the elite could maintain a degree of separation, partly through attempts to marry at a distance, and to employ ‘alliance’ as political strategy to maintain, and perhaps even enhance, their position. At one point of time descent (strong patrilines built around sons and grandsons), strategic alliance and a certain amount of landed property and wealth from other sources were sufficient to consolidate influence. The entry of formal politics as well as of large economic interests complicated the dynamics and raised very considerably the stakes of power. The construction business has become a most important route to the consolidation of power and wealth. The Shiv Sena allowed entry into the political domain of the more marginal among the Agaris. But soon the interests of the Shiv Sena turned towards the commercial values of land, as had those of the Congress and SKP previous to it. Moreover the Shiv Sena is less attached to the support and interests of the peasants than these other parties had been. A generational and developmental shift has taken place and the peasant mode of life of the Agaris is increasingly under threat. The next chapter explores the notion of labour and analyses the ways in which it is bound up with the idea of themselves that the Agaris have. In the following chapter, through the ‘labour practices’ of the Agari community, I will try to unfold this relation.

1

In the Marxist understanding classes are identified on the basis of ownership or non-ownership of the means of

production. Every set of means of production has a corresponding set of social relations of production. There arises a contradiction between social relations of production and forces of production when ‘control over resources is separated from the input of the human energy that makes them work’ (Smith 2005: 435). Classes emerge when those who control the resources and those who work on them are two different groups; and are marked by conflicting interests, which results in class struggle. Charlesworth (1985: 271-283) has termed the peasantry of Kolaba as ‘poor peasants’ in comparison with the ‘rich peasantry’ of the Deccan and Gujarat. 2

Literally means those with white collar jobs, pandhar – white, pesha – jobs. See also Omvedt (1976: 4).

3

‘Social honour’ emerges in Weber’s analysis as an equally salient mode of wielding power. Whereas class

situation is determined economically, the ‘status situation’ is determined by ‘positive or negative social estimation of honour’ (Weber 1970: 187). ‘Class distinctions are linked in the most varied ways with status.’ Although property is not always linked with status, in the long run it may be linked. However, this need not always be the case. A status group ‘on the contrary’, ‘…normally stands in sharp opposition to the pretensions of

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sheer property’. Thus, ‘both propertied and property less people can belong to the same status group’ (ibid.: 187). 4

The total Agari population in Maharashtra was 2,65,286 according to the 1931 census. This constituted

approximately 1 percent of the total population of the Bombay Presidency (Census of India 1931, see Apendix I). 5

The Brahmanical ideal of hypergamy is the underlying principle behind such practices. The gift of a virgin is

considered the highest kind of gift given to a superior wife-taker. But it is a gift which cannot be reciprocated (Ifeka 1989: 266), thus the custom of not even eating where one has ‘given one’s daughter’. Although my informants were not so explicitly aware of the preliminary logic that runs behind these practices, they knew that these two practices were related and prevalent. 6

It implies the distribution of sugar on the happy occasion of a betrothal.

7

Payarilaa payari lagali pahije, an Agari proverb which means ‘a step’ should be matched by ‘a step’ of similar

height, indicating the need to match statuses of the two families who wish to enter into a marital tie. This indicates the absence of the ideal of hypergamy where generally the bride is given into a family of higher social and economic standing. 8

Ifeka (1989: 264) mentions that in north India dowry customarily excludes property titles, which are reserved

for male children. But in her analysis of the Christians in Goa she includes the immovable assets as land and houses in dowry. In my fieldwork, there was no prevalent custom of dowry as such. The bride’s father in the past used to receive the dej (bride-price). The father of the bride was to give nath, the distinct ornament to be worn in the nose. Even the poorest of fathers could not escape this. He may choose to give more than just a nath but that was not compulsory. The bridegroom however had to give the davali (the Agari variant of mangal sutra, a necklace which symbolizes the married status of a woman) and jodavi (silver toe-rings, also symbolizing married status), three saris and flower garlands. He may give other ornaments if he wished and if he could afford. In such a situation, what would ‘giving the daughter a share in the landed property’ mean? It was more an attempt to help the newly-weds to settle properly or in several cases to assign management responsibilities to the bridegroom, which the bride’s family was not able to cope up with. In either case, it was voluntary. That it was not a part of dowry, is evident from the fact that my informants, men and women in Chirner, considered it lowly on the part of the married daughter to claim a share in her father’s property, though many daughters continued to make a claim. Karadi men and women from the older generation from Mothi Jui, argued that it was the girl’s equal right to claim a share in landed property. The younger generation saw it as below the dignity of the daughter especially if she was married into an affluent family. The argument would be ‘Daughter married in a poor family may perhaps claim a share but what was the need for the daughter married in a well-off family?’ Since then, times have changed and the economic conditions have improved. The exceptions to this general pattern are on an increase. Also these days the father of the bride, especially if he is well-off does give gold jewellery and other things. Land is not a part of it. Very often the bride’s trousseau also includes the gifts from her close relations, which are also in the form of gold jewellery. 9

In Chapter Five I have mentioned and in Chapter Seven I discuss at length the scarcity of potable water and

resulting drudgery of women in kharepat areas. In fact in marital alliances, the availability of drinking water in the village where ‘a daughter was given’ was an important criterion for her family. Villages in remote areas,

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closer to the creek and sea always faced acute scarcity of potable water and families avoided ‘giving their daughters’ to these villages. Consequently, the choice of brides would be limited for the prospective bridegrooms in these villages. These villages also sought brides preferably from nearby villages to ensure the familiarity with the hardships involved which caused less trouble in adjustment. 10

Savkar is a moneylender. Since most of the large landowners were also at the same time moneylenders the

generic term to refer to them and their dominance was savkarshahi (shahi means regime). 11

In Pen and Alibag it is the ritual of mandav (pandal) thapani (installation) which requires the presence of a

Brahman. 12

A dhavalarin is the Agari marriage priest. This office is exclusively held by Agari women. The Agari marriage

rituals are accompanied by dhavalas - the marriage songs - which are sung by this priest. She is paid for these services. These women are generally socially extrovert and enterprising. The dhavalarin has to ‘manage’ the marriage, by guiding the bride or groom’s family through various rituals. It is an added advantage, although not a compulsion, to know the relatives of the bride or the groom and their names, as these relatives are referred to through the marriage songs as they take part in various rituals. In other words, the dhavalarin holds much respect and generally is witty, smart, with strong presence of mind and well-versed with the village affairs. She engages the near and dear ones in hilarious conversations making fun of their relationship and makes the whole ceremony delightful. She is also a storehouse of anecdotes, legends, folksongs and stories. 13

The Karadis still perform it and a Karadi informant gave the legend associated with the ritual. It is narrated by

the daki as part of the ritual chants. The narration is as follows:

Once upon a time there were two brothers whose father had died long ago. Once there was a death among their relatives in the village. They went for the mourning ritual but the people there did not accept them. They said, “You have not performed dak, you have not performed jag13 (dak nai kela jag nai kela). You will not be accepted here.” Then the two brothers came back and asked their mother, “Why did we not perform dak? Why did we not perform jag?” Then the mother said, “For dak a Brahman is required. Curd is required. Ghee is required. We do not have it. A cow is required. We do not have it.” Then the brothers went to the Brahman. He said the same thing as their mother and asked them to go to Indra, the god king. Then the brothers went to the jungle and prayed to Indra. Indra, pleased with their prayers, asked them, “What is it?” They narrated the whole story and said, “We did not do dak. We did not do jag. For dak curd is required, ghee is required. Cow is required. We want a cow.” Then Indra gifted them a cow. The cow gave them milk, curd and ghee. Then they invited the Brahman. Then they performed the dak. The Brahman drank the milk, and ate the curd and the ghee. Then an evil thought entered his mind. He thought ‘if this is so sweet then the flesh of the cow must be very sweet’. He developed an appetite for the flesh of a cow. The Brahman saw the cow grazing in the jungle. He developed evil thoughts. He tied the cow’s hoofs with a tana (creepers) and killed her with the teak wood leaves. Then he took her intestine (kothala) out and put it on a rock. He took her liver (kaleja) out and threw it in the bushes. Then he took her flesh out and ate it. Then the Brahman left. Then the two brothers went to Indra and complained to him, “The cow is not to be seen.” Then the god started a search for the cow. The cow was not found. Then he called the crow and asked him to search

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for the cow. He said, “If you find the cow I will give you a basket full of gold.” The crow went into the jungle and he looked for the kite (ghar). He said to her, “if you find the cow I will give you a (fowl) chick.” Then the kite went to the jungle. She saw the kothala on the rock and the kaleja in the bushes. She saw the hoofs tied with the tana. The kite came back and informed the crow, “The cow’s kothala is on the rock, kaleja is in the bushes. The hoofs are tied with the tana.” Then the crow brought a (fowl) chick and gave it to the kite. The crow informed Indra. Indra sprinkled amrit (heavenly nectar) on the bones and other remains of the cow. The cow came to life and she jumped directly into Trambyakeshwar (origin of the holy river of Godavari), Nashik. There she drank the tirtha (holy water) and then she jumped to Kashi (the holy pilgrimage center on the bank of the river Ganga) and drank the tirtha. In this way she drank the tirtha of twelve holy places.

The story accuses the Brahman of a cardinal sin – the slaughter of a cow and consumption of beef - subverts his superiority and indicates perhaps the reason behind the Brahman’s absence from the ritual. According to the informant who gave this story, the cow represented the soul of the dead person and the story indicates that it would visit the twelve holy places after this ritual. In the unpublished account of the ‘Agari history’ (I have quoted an excerpt from this document in the introductory chapter) written by Bhaskar Anand Patil he has explained the emergence of this ritual among the Agaris. In early nineteenth century, the fights between the Brahman sardars (nobles) of Pune and Maratha sardars had increased. Brahmans were reluctant to perform the rituals for the non-Brahmans. According to Patil the Agari community, sensing that there might arise some difficulty in procuring a Brahman priest, devised a ritual which could be performed by their own priest. He refers to these rituals by various names – dak ghalane, jangam kriya, kambali kriya. He explains that it is since then that these rituals had become a part of the Agari death rituals. Chakravarti (2000: 23-28) has also mentioned the strictures imposed by the Peshwas on various non-Brahman castes. Later, these appear to have been given up. 14

A decorative design drawn with rice flour in the courtyard is called kana. It is considered auspicious.

15

The loose end of the sari used to cover the chest and face.

16

The Agari woman’s adava, however, varies from district to district and at times even from taluka to taluka.

These styles have unmistakable similarities with the Koli styles of dressing. These need not surprise us as the connection between Kolis, Agaris and Karadis has been discussed earlier (see Chapter Four, section on caste society in northern Konkan). Even today and even among rich families the older women do wear saris in the traditional Agari style. 17

A widow was expected to wear it for an entire year following the death of her husband.

18

A thick black woolen cloth made of sheep wool is processed and stitched to make special apparel called

khonda. Although the practice is slowly dying out, even today old women who wear the sari in a traditional Agari style would not venture out without this khonda. In order to prepare it, a narrow blanket (ghongadi) is folded in the middle at its width and stitched at the top, thus making a hood-like shape. The length of this hood covers the back and touches the legs just below the knees. Whether they go to market, to the well or on a social visit, the khonda is a must. During the summer it also serves as a cover from the sun and during the monsoon it serves as a raincoat. On social visits it would automatically become a comfortable seat for the woman, who

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would take it off and make a cushion to sit on. It is a sign of respectability and status. In the past, slight variations in the design and texture of these khondas indicated differences in status. 19

Khaparis are earthen pans used to make the bhakari (traditional bread, roti), a speciality of Agari and Koli

women. 20

Jewish oil-pressers’ community which later largely migrated to Israel.

21

The dilapidated stone buildings earlier used as storehouses by savkars stand in various villages. Even today

they are referred to as dastan. 22

According to his son Datta Patil who is a renowned lawyer, leader of SKP, and ex-MLA, he was with the

Congress prior to the Jungle Satyagaraha (1930). But the treatment accorded to the non-literate Agari peasants by the Congressmen during and after the trial, the Congressmen’s unwillingness to speak against and do something about the khoti system and the exploitation of Agari peasants at the hands of savkars made him a bitter enemy of the Congress. 23

He is variously referred to as Barakusheth or Barakya as we shall see in the narrative of KP.

24

He is referring to the acumen required to enter into formal politics. Baraku was not educated. Nor was he

paying tax of hundred rupees or more. He and his gang members did not possess the resources which were required to participate in formal politics which N. N. Patil possessed. This explains the significance of emergence of N. N. Patil as political leader from among the Agaris. 25

These 6000 acres include not only agricultural land but also some saltpan land which they had originally

leased from the government. Currently, one of Tungekar’s successors is busy fighting the matter in the court as the saltpan land in Raigad and Mumbai has become disputed property, both Government and the lessees laying claim to it. The Marwadi and Muslim salt producers from Uran and other salt producers from other parts of the district hired Agaris and Karadis and these days are also hiring Kharavis from Gujarat. 26

GS (80) is the widow of another feisty leader from Vindhane, VS. VS first rose to fame when he openly

refused to play to the tune of the landlord, Bapu Khot. In fact he was involved in hatching the plan to eliminate the khot. VS went on to become a SKP leader who led the struggle against the land acquisition near his village around the river Rahi. The Maharashtra Industrial Development Corporation acquired the land for a water pipeline project. 27

According to one informant he had come across another Kharpatil lineage in the district of Thane. These

Kharpatils derived their surname from the office that was held by their forefathers to look after the khar (creek), and the ughad (sluice-gate) and land owned by the same landlord, Shringarpure. Kharpatil in fact is a designation accorded to the patil of reclaimed land, khar. In the villages of Bhom and Taki informants acknowledged the fact that the patils of their village, who were basically the managers of the Kharland, were alternatively referred to as Kharpatils. Except for Chirner none of them have retained Kharpatil as their title. 28

It was these leaders of SKP discussed in this chapter including D. B. Patil, Tukaram Vajekar, and others from

Mumbai and Thane who took a leading role in the demand to be included among the Other Backward Classes. Since the movement for the demand of the OBC status operated at the community level and had a backing from the majority of the community I do not discuss it here. It has been discussed at length in the Introduction. I make some concluding remarks about the movement in the ninth chapter.

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185

The Agari/Koli plays, ‘Mandavache mangari kaai challay’ (by Nandakumar Vaity) and ‘Mandvan pandav’

(by L. B. Patil) are satirical commentaries on this social menace. The first play especially has been a huge theatrical success in the New Bombay and Thane region. 30

‘Zhen tar zhen zenach zhen’ is a characteristic Agari saying used to describe and mockingly ridicule the craze

for such means of extravagant show. The Agari equivalent for ‘take’ or ‘buy’ is ‘zhe’ instead of the standard Marathi ‘ghe’. Marathi translation of this proverb is ‘ghein tar ghein zenach ghein’ which means ‘I would only buy the Zen (model of Maruti car) [and no other (car) would do]’. The similarity in the Agari ‘zhen’ and Maruti ‘zen’ creates the humour. 31

The ritual necklace worn by married women indicating their marital status. It is offered by the bridegroom to

the bride during the marriage rituals. 32

The goods that are exported and imported via the port are to be loaded and unloaded in and out of containers.

Earlier this was done in the premises of the port by the port authorities. With increase in traffic and liberalization, this activity has been outsourced to privately run CFSs/CYs, set up in nearby villages. 33

As in any dockyard, the workers who work here in JNPT and the nearby CFSs/CYs have opportunities to lay

their hands on some of the goods that are exported or imported. 34

Soyare is a Marathi word. Among Agaris it is a term used by the parents of the bride and parents of

bridegroom to address each other. In fact all of the uncles and aunts of the bride and those of the bridegroom refer to each other as soyaryaaoon. The Hindi equivalent to this term is samadhi, and English equivalent is affines. 35

There are four ZP constituencies in Uran taluka. Chirner to Jasai – a group of some 20 villages – is the Chirner

constituency. 36

H & R Johnson Tiles Company of Thane regularly employed men from Chirner and the neighboring region. In

Chirner, there were some families who were engaged in masonary work for generations. They had the tools required for working on stones (basalt rock was the main material used to build houses and temples; to make grinding stones and tulasi vrindavans). The men from these families were skilled workers who were eagerly sought by the company. 37

In its heyday the Shiv Sena had directed its wrath specifically against the south Indians in Mumbai using

pejorative terms as lungiwalas (people wearing lungis) and madrasi (literally, a person from [erstwhile] Madras [now Chennai] city, but the term refers to all south Indians). 38

It is the non-agricultural land categorized under the title of village settlement.

39

A popular leader of the Shiv Sena who played a key role in the spread of the Shiv Sena in the region was

Ganesh Naik. Ganesh Naik hails from the New Bombay region, his village being Bonkode near Kopar Khairane, New Bombay. He emerged as a union leader in this newly industrialized region of New Bombay and became the strong man of Shiv Sena chief Bal Thackeray. This was around 1988. At this time New Bombay was emerging as a new urban centre. Agari men with nominal school education from local villages who had lost lands were given jobs in the industrial belt of this region. Ganesh Naik represented these under-educated Agari men. He left the Shiv Sena in 1998 to form the Nagari Vikas Aghadi. But later he was to join the Nationalist Congress Party of Sharad Pawar.

Chapter Seven Land, labour and gender 7.1 Introduction Throughout the known history of the Agari community, labour has been their most valuable asset. Yet, either as salt-makers or as cultivators, their control over the land has remained fragile. Even the wealthier stratum within the community, discussed in the previous chapter, retained an organic relation with their land. A complete disruption from agricultural labour did not take place although they let out parts of their land during the pre-Independence period. During the post-Independence period, with the introduction of land reforms, landholding per household evened out and the capacity to rent out the land decreased. The community’s sense of identity remained firmly anchored in the capacity of its men and women to work. During the decade of the 1970s and 1980s as large scale land acquisitions were carried out by the government in the nearby areas, land and labour relations rapidly changed in eastern Uran, although it was not directly affected. The idea here is to trace the contours of this transformation. Therefore, I focus on the period between the 1970s and 2005. On the basis of the ethnographic fieldwork and the survey, I try to look at the changing patterns of

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labour practices. Although, I may make some references to the earlier times and labour practices therein, the main focus is on the last thirty or so years. At the outset, in section 7.2, the two striking features of the community’s way of life have been highlighted and discussed in the light of the ideas of Marx, feminist theory and Gandhi, on labour. In section 7.3, I discuss how during the 1970s and before, people struggled to satisfy even their basic needs. This started changing in the 1980s. In section 7.4, I sketch a picture of the village and its surrounding land and the geography and the history of this village. In section 7.5, I focus on Chirner, the variety within Kharland and Sweetland and how people make sense of this variety. In section 7.6, I review the shifting patterns of how ‘labour’ is performed and experienced and in what forms (collective, family, shared, hired) and, how social relations are organized around these forms.

7.2 Labour and gender: some theoretical concerns Here, in this section we discuss two striking features of the community’s way of life. Firstly, the subjective expression as well as the objective views of the peasant community points towards its involvement in physical labour. Secondly, there is an almost equal participation of women in paid and unpaid agricultural labour. This centrality of labour to the lives of the peasant community and participation of women in it is diametrically opposite to the Brahmanical notion of labour. 1 Abhorrence of physical labour is the characteristic of Brahmanical ideology for two reasons. Firstly, physical labour is considered in itself defiling and degrading. Secondly, physical labour performed outside the house confers upon women in whatever limited form a certain degree of freedom, economic independence and physical mobility. It may also facilitate unwarranted sexual encounters, thus debilitating the control of men over the labour, sexuality and mobility of women. This is detrimental to the claims of purity and superiority of the upper castes. Thus, upper castes prohibit labour for men, and more so for women. While these notions are not otherwise part of the low caste worldview, the lower castes which aspire for superior status also take them up as ideals worth emulating.

Labour and subjectivity Labour and identity: Kunabi, Kabadi and Mali Three terms – Kunabi, kabadi, and Mali - used in the Agari dialect across Raigad and Thane districts show how labour has been central to the Agari identity. Kunabi is a caste name today,

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but it was and is still used in the local parlance as a generic term to refer to a peasant. The Agari peasant often refers to himself as a Kunabi. Kunabi symbolizes three things – involvement in physical labour, knowledge of and proficiency in agriculture and comparatively low social status. It was due to this low social status that Kunabi was also used as a term of abuse. And although the caste group of Kunabis, depending on the context, may claim to be Marathas and thereby claim a higher ritual and social status, the upper echelons of Marathas 2 are careful enough to separate themselves from the lowly labouring section of Kunabis. The Agaris of Bhiwandi region of Thane district identify themselves as kabadi in the marriage songs. 3 Kabad kashta, a Marathi term, is used to denote very strenuous physical labour. Kabadi would mean a person who performs strenuous physical labour. The third term Mali is a caste name, and was not used at least consciously by my Agari informants to identify themselves. However, in the way in which it is used in the Agari marriage songs and other folksongs, it appears more like a generic term, used also to refer to Agaris who grew various fruits, flowers and vegetables in their gardens. The term Mali recurs in Agari marriage songs of Alibag, Pen and Uran taluka, often indicating the fluidity between the Agari and the Mali identity. Raigad district gazetteer attributes the origin of the caste name Agari to the profession of gardening. As in Alibag taluka, not only is the salt pan referred to as agar, but a garden of coconut and betel nut trees is also called an agar (DGR 1993: 225; Omvedt 1976: 69).

The subjective experience It appears from the above discussion that subjective notions of Agari identity are contextual and therefore multilayered. One aspect in this complexity however, remains consistent and that is the involvement of the community in productive labour. Ilaiah (1996: 165-200) has argued that Dalitbahujan 4 consciousness is derived from the productive labour that the Dalitbahujans perform. This is true also for the Agaris. The following incident is a case in point. A small time journalist from Chirner village who worked in a local daily, once claimed that the Agaris were descendants of the Brahmans (he was the only person, I have come across to have claimed allegiance with the Brahmans). When I came back home and told my aunt and cousins about it, my aunt could not agree. She said, “We are not the Brahmans. Can the Brahmans ever bear the scorching sun that we can endure? Never! We cannot be Brahmans. To do so much hard work is not in their blood.” When I further told

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them that according to him the Brahmans from whom the Agaris descended were lazy and that is why they were degraded to the position of peasants, they all laughed. My aunt insisted“No matter how lazy one is, one has to do the minimum work required to grow a crop.” Upon second thought, however, my aunt and cousins accepted partially that laziness was seen, especially among some men in the village, who preferred to stay home, drink and make merry. They were critical about the fact that their wives would work, earn and run the household and these men would squander the money earned by their wives. A person’s capacity to work is respected and valued. During one of my first meetings with Dharmibai, a dhavalarin from Bhom village, we went to meet her friend Bhimabai. As we were having tea, Bhimabai praised Dharmibai thus- “We are friends (maiturani) you know. We used to go to the jungle together to fetch firewood. Dharmibai is very hardworking. She never sits idle. She would do all kinds of work. She would make patravali 5 and sell them. She never sat idle.” For people, the zeal to work hard was a highly regarded quality of a person, and they in their introduction of other people to me, often mentioned that someone was very industrious, or someone was a good peasant, or that someone never sat idle. Men and women enjoyed the work that went into any productive activity and especially agriculture. Marx’s differentiation between ‘labour’ and ‘labour power’, his ideas on commodification of labour power and its implications (alienation is the most significant one) shows how the experience of labour when it has not yet been commodified, is an expression of the producer’s ‘individuality’, ‘peculiarity’ and leads to enjoyment derived from ‘an individual expression of life’ (Marx 1977a: 121-122). 6 Gandhian thought also represents a similar point of view about labour. In an article in Harijan, 7 Mahadeo Desai describes the dialogue that took place between him and Gandhi, where Gandhi advocated eight hours of manual labour for every individual (1960: 17-20). Desai questions as to how so many hours of work would leave hours of leisure for the person concerned. Gandhi discards any need for leisure time (ibid.: 17). Work itself is leisure, he argues. He argues that work is pleasurable when it leads to a complete product over which the producer has ownership. It is the ‘joy of creating’ that makes the work and labour a fulfilling and happy experience (ibid.). In Chirner and the neighbouring villages, the work which a majority of the villagers undertook, although exhausting, was something that they seemed to enjoy. Just as being on the field meant hard work (which was not necessarily despised), it also meant chatting, gossiping, teasing and

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singing. For children, it meant fun and frolic as they ran around catching crabs and fish, getting drenched and muddy, occasionally helping their parents and other elders. The monthly fishing expeditions also involved strenuous labour, but the men and women cherished these fishing expeditions as some kind of a hobby. The months of December and May would be packed with marriages. With marriages came the preparations involving a lot of work. The marriage rituals, among other things, ritualized the work of husking rice grains; washing, drying and grinding the grain; kneading the flour, making cakes out of it and then frying them. These cakes were an important offering to the family deities which were also the presiding deities of the marriage. The marriage sermons took note of all those close relatives who came and shared this work. They also took note of all the non-Agari (potter, shepherd, carpenter, mason and gardener) contributors to the marriage by mentioning in great detail the work processes for instance, the entire process by which the turmeric tubers traveled from the Mali’s field, in which they were grown, to the market and from there to the house of the bride or the bridegroom is a part of the songs. In a similar fashion, the cotton thread, the earthen pots and the grinding stone are taken note of in the marriage sermons, as are their makers and the labour that goes into making them. For instance – Ghatavarshi ala patharvat ala

the stoneworker came from the ghat

tyane lavala patyala kamu ho

he made the grinding stone

adhi gharhavila patyacha potu ho

first he made the stomach of the grinding stone

mang gharavili patyachi pathu ho

then he made the back of the grinding stone

mang gharavila chari ho konu ho

then he made the four corners of the grinding stone

tav to pata shobhitu disa ho….

then the grinding stone looked really grand

These lines are extracted from the dhavalas, Agari marriage sermons sung by the dhavalarin (the Agari female priest). This dhavala is for the ritual called gauret sarane or pata sarane that is performed for eliminating the effects of evil eye from the bride/bridegroom. They are considered more vulnerable to it due to their auspicious status. As a part of the ritual the grinding stone is worshipped. This song describes the making of the grinding stone in its first stanza and in the second one describes the weaving of a woolen

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blanket. This is just one of the many sermons where such activities of production are described meticulously and with respectful appreciation. The second stanza is as follows….ghatavarshi ala dhangaru tyaachi

the shepherd has come from the ghat 8

teenashe sath mendhara ho

he owns three hundred and sixty sheep

te mendharacha kadhila lokaru ho

wool was removed from these sheep

tyani vinali kali kamboli ho

he wove a black quilt out of it

ganga gavari namaskaru kela ho…..

he prayed to ganga and gavari

The sociology and anthropology of work has missed this subjective experience of labour. Labour is generally analysed as a part of the capitalist system and thus is understood as a commodity, a source of exploitation, and thus boring and unexciting. 9 Even the subsistence production which majority of the rural women carry out is looked at only as a mode of exploitation (Mies et al. 1987). The sociological theories that have looked at the subjective experience of work have done it in organizational set-ups like factories or offices. They have tried to look at the motivating factors which make work meaningful for some workers and not for others, but these studies are usually done from the point of view of the management and its concerns are to increase the work efficiency of the workers in order to increase the overall profits of the enterprise. The subjective experience of the peasants or the artisans hardly ever gets represented in sociological literature (Marshall 1998: 708).

Gender and labour Agari women also participated in physical labour. They worked on their own farms, went in parties for shared labour or worked for wages in others’ farms and went to catch fish. They also sold the fish and other agricultural products in the village market or in nearby towns. Women ran small shops for which they bought supply from the city markets. They collected firewood from the jungle or from their varkas land (land which is barren or difficult to cultivate). The withdrawal of women from participation in physical labour, especially that which requires going out of house has been a feature of the sanskritizing castes. The stigma attached to physical labour and especially to women taking part in it was strikingly negligible among Agaris and therefore withdrawal of women from these activities has been minimal. In some rich and educated families women seem to be staying away from physical labour. Even among them, a complete abstinence from physical labour was not the order of the day. Some households restricted their daughters-in-law from such activities as fishing and collecting firewood. A majority of the women however, went to the fields. Some went only to their own

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fields or those of their close relations. For some, even this was not allowed but they had to assist the men and other labourers by cooking the meals and carrying them to the field. This also was a physically demanding task. There were thus, very few women in the village, who had nothing to do with agricultural work.

7.3 Making both ends meet The Agari way of life before the 1970s: Uran taluka, especially the eastern part of it, during the 1970s, was considered one of the most backward, isolated and dreaded of all parts of the Raigad district. In fact, families from Pen and Alibag taluka preferred not to give their daughters in marriage in this region. As for the people of this region, making both ends meet was as difficult as it could be. The motorable road ended near Chirner. Beyond Chirner there are around twenty or so villages. One had to walk through the fields or swamps to reach them. During the rainy season, the unpaved roads would get sticky and muddy and people often carried spare clothes to change into upon reaching Chirner. The bus from Chirner to Panvel (the largest town and market in the near vicinity) was scheduled only once or twice a day. If one missed that, the only option left was to walk down to Panvel, which is about twenty-two kilometers away, in the northeast direction from Chirner. The road passed through dense forest area that was dreaded as much for its wild beasts as for the armed thugs who often looted the travelers. Uran, the taluka headquarter and market place is twenty-five kilometers in southwest direction from Chirner. Back in the 1970s there were no means of transport and communication. The women and men who went to sell firewood, fruits, vegetables and other items, had to walk down to Uran. Some even covered these distances on a daily basis. The scarcity of drinking water was acute in the kharepat (Kharland belt), especially during the last two months of the summer. Villages which were in the heart of the Kharland belt were the worst affected. Such times, marked by acute scarcity of water, have a special phrase in the Agari dialect – tiploon lagali (the source of water has gone dry). The wells dried up completely and the springs of water in the wells were reduced to a trickle. Men and women lined up at the depths of the wells to collect water from these small trickles. When their own sources of water were exhausted, people would walk down to the nearest village where the wells or ponds had not yet dried up. It often meant walking several kilometers. Potable water

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was a scarce commodity during the summer consuming much energy, time and labour of the entire household. In normal situations, during the summer, women and also men, from Khopata and Koproli traversed a distance of four to five kilometers daily to Chirner to fetch water. Even villages like Chirner would at times run out of water which was supplied mainly through two or three wells. Therefore, at times even Chirner residents had to travel distances of four to five kilometers further, to get potable water. Since Independence till the 1960’s, India was facing acute food shortage and western pundits had predicted severe famines and deaths by millions. This was the decade when Dr. Norman Borlaug’s research had started indicating positive results, which by the end of the decade were to be hailed as a ‘green revolution’ (Parayil 1992: 744). These hybrid seed varieties were yet to reach Uran and therefore agricultural yield was chronically low. The indigenous varieties 10 of rice yielded almost half the amount that the new hybrid varieties yield today. Therefore, for many families the annual yield of the rice was not sufficient to feed the family for an entire year. Planting alternative crops and pulses was not much in practice. Vegetable gardening was not widespread and was not done on a large scale for commercial purposes. As a result, almost all the families had to supplement their meager earnings through the sale of firewood, fishing in the creek and daily wages (which were scarce during the non-agricultural season). Almost all the peasant families followed this pattern of employment with a few exceptions of better-off families. As one of the informants put it, there were very many families in the village until 1975, who could manage only a single meal a day. Another informant recalled that often they would have to make their meals by using the flour made of jav, a low quality food grain. The government would supply this through the public distribution system. The following table (Fig. 7.1) based on information collected during a household survey from 173 households, gives the estimated annual income distribution in the year 1975 for 163 households. 11 We can see from the table that nearly seventy percent of the households had incomes below Rs. 10000 per annum.

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Annual Income Distribution 1975 (Estimate) No. of Households 120 100 80 No. of Households

60

Percentage of Households

40 20 0 0 to 500 No. of Households Percentage of Households

501 to 1000

4

8

2.454

4.908

1001 10001 25001 to to to 10000 25000 50000 103

33

50001 +

9

63.19 20.245 5.5215

6 3.681

Income range

Figure 7.1 Estimation of annual income in Chirner in 1975

(Source: Sample survey, 2005)

Although the income levels have increased there is no drastic change in the income differentials in the village. The income distribution in 2005 for these 173 households (Figure 7.1) shows that twenty percent people moved upward from the Rs. 10,000 band. 12

No. of Households

Annual Income Distribution 2005 80 60

No.of Households

40

Percentage of Households

20 0

No.of Households

0 to 10001 50001 10000 20000 10000 to to 1 to 1+ 23

71

44

20

15

Percentage of 13.295 41.04 25.434 11.561 8.6705 Households

Income Range

Figure 7.2 Distribution of annual income in Chirner in 2005

(Source: Sample survey, 2005)

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Supplementing agriculture: Fati la jane (collecting firewood), kharit jholane (fishing in the creek) and majoori in hel and gavandi kam (wage labour in non-agricultural and masonry activities) Firewood: fati/kuri Thirty years back, when only indigenous varieties of rice were grown, the yield in a season hardly sufficed for the needs of a family for an entire year. From December to May, one had to depend upon alternate sources of earning a livelihood to meet the day to day expenses. One important way of making ends meet was the collection and sale of firewood. 13 Chirner was one of the few villages which had a forest cover and therefore other villages especially those in the heart of the Kharland depended on Chirner for a supply of firewood. Collecting and storing the firewood for the season of monsoon consumed much of their time, even of those families not short on the yearly supply of rice. Many of them would sell firewood after stocking for their personal use. These families collected and accumulated large piles in their courtyard. Often villagers from the nearby villages paid visits to Chirner and selected a particular stock after surveying the supply available in the village. They bought it and carried it in bullock-carts to their villages. The poorer families, however, depended on these earnings for their daily meal. Men and women from these families went to the forest early in the morning and collected enough wood to make one or two piles before they returned in the afternoon. Then they set out to sell the wood in the nearby villages such as Koproli, Khopata and Mothi Jui. In return they received cash or more commonly some residual products of rice such as kani 14 , arkanda or kunda through barter exchange. They came handy for the women who had children eagerly waiting at home for their mothers to bring some food. Men and women both went to the forest to collect firewood, but they specialized in making different kinds of bundles of wood. The men collected larger and heavier pieces and the women smaller and lighter ones. These different bundles have different names depending upon the size of the bundle and the wood. They were sold at different prices. The children also collected firewood. A small bundle made of small twigs was called goyla. It was the cheapest of all and children managed to earn some pocket money for themselves through the sale of these small bundles or even contributed to the household income. Adari was made of

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branches of the tree, collected and carried generally by women. The men usually made the bundle from the tree-trunk and it was called adaga. Firewood collection was mostly a collective activity. Men and women formed groups. Spouses often went together. They set out for the wood early in the morning before day break. Generally, these groups were formed among neighbours or friends who were more often than not related to each other. They went into the heart of the jungle near Karnala. The stretch is of about five to ten kilometers. Some had handas (a cooperative mode of labour practice) for the collection of firewood. (I will discuss handa, a form of shared labour, later in this chapter). The collection of firewood generally started after the harvest. By this time, the trees dried up. However, some started the collection of firewood as early as August. This was a month of relative tranquility. The transplanting was over and the harvest was still a few weeks away. Vali fati (wet firewood) would be collected and sold straightaway or would be stored, dried and then sold. Those who were poor had no option but to start early, as the months of the monsoon were the months of acute scarcity. The supply of rice would be exhausted by this time and the household would be scrambling for any resources that they could lay their hands on. At present, at least in Chirner, very few households collect firewood for sale. Most of them restrict it to get a supply for their in-house consumption. Better-off households preferred to buy it from the Katkaris and Thakars, the tribals, who earn a living by collecting and selling firewood. Alternatively, some hired the Katkaris on daily wages to get the required supply of fuel from their varkas lands.

Wage labour: majoori – hel (daily wage- haulage), gavandikam (masonry), sutarkam (carpentry), mithagar (saltpan) The daily wage labour was another additional source of income for such families. Collection of firewood was a physically taxing activity. Nobody could sustain it continuously for several days. 15 Therefore, it was carried out with regular breaks. In between, the adult members of a family went to work for daily wages. Although the most general and regular form of daily wage labour was agricultural labour, there were several other activities for which people were hired. Agricultural labour was available only during the monsoon or harvest season. Other means of earning daily wages

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were more common during the post-monsoon periods. Some thirty years back, there were several liquor distillers in the village. Liquor distillation was an illegal activity and therefore had to be carried out secretly. Men and women would be hired to deliver the liquor to nearby tribal settlements and Agari villages. The same was the case with the smuggling of rice. Black marketing of rice 16 was rampant and the rice dealers who were also Agaris often hired the poorer Agari men and women to illegally transport the gunny bags of rice. These activities of carrying heavy loads entailed a special kind of wage, called hel (haulage). During summer, many from Chirner were employed as wage labourers in the saltpans. Husking and winnowing of rice were other important sources of daily wages. While most families handled these tasks by sharing the workload with others (through handa or parakel) the richer families hired men and women to perform the tasks. A few years back, there was a flourishing business of selling hay. Hired men and women cut the grass from the mountain grasslands, tied it into bundles and carried them to a nearby jetty. 17 Grass was taken to Mumbai or Thane, where it was bought wholesale by merchants. But these employment opportunities were not available on a regular basis, except for employment in the saltpans. Therefore, the opportunities for work remained highly limited.

Fishing Kharit jane (going to the creek) or jholala jane (going for fishing with fish-nets) refers to the regular fishing expeditions which are undertaken even today. Thirty years back, when scarcity was a characteristic feature of the peasant life, and because there were no viable options available for side earnings, these fishing expeditions were a daily affair for many households. The daily diet had to be supplemented by the catch in the creek. Within the village, people from Madhil pada, Ranjan pada and Chincha pada frequented the creeks more often. Many of them had their land in the Kharland and thus were more familiar with the techniques of fishing. Elderly men or women often went alone or accompanied by their children or grandchildren on fishing expeditions. During my fieldwork, I learnt that that these fishing expeditions have reduced in number and scale. Relatively few men and even fewer women went to the creek for a daily supply of fish. Yet, during my walks near the creek, I often saw men, women and children moving around in the mangrove forests and the creek water, catching different varieties of

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fish either for household consumption or for sale. The Kharpatils, who still retain a right over the main ughad (sluice gate) of the village in the Kharland paddy fields, took yearly turns to catch fish in the ughad. The area near the sluice gate is an ideal place for fishing as it is the narrowest point for the entry and exit of the creek water and convenient to put fishing instruments and nets of various kinds. Given below is a description of one of the methods employed by the villagers to catch fish, as I saw it during the month of March. On the small bridge just over the Chirner ughad (see the map 7.1), I met Nitin Kharpatil (17), a young boy, sitting with a fishing net (bosaki) and fishing instrument (bagali). He told me that it was the turn of their family (from the Kharpatil lineage) to take the catch from the ughad that year….At around 10:30 a.m., when I met him and when I asked him what he was doing, he said, “I am waiting for the high tide. In half an hour the tide should turn high.” As it was the low-tide, the water was flowing through the ughad towards the creek. It was making a sound as the water level on the creek-side was lower than the side of the paddy fields….towards 10:50 a.m. the sound made by the flowing water started declining. On the paddy field side of the ughad I could see the slow ingression of water and increase in the level of water. As the water level increased, at one point the sound made by the water ceased completely. Slowly outlet stopped and inlet started. Nitin was waiting for this moment. He explained to me that the previous day had been a no moon day (amavasya). Today is new moon day (nava dis – new day or the first day of the fortnight) and tomorrow second day (beej). The fishing net is tied everyday from the eleventh phase of the moon (ekadashi) till the sixth phase of the moon (shashthi)…these are the days of the maximum high tide (udhan) (see Table 7.2 in this chapter for the phases of moon and associated tidal levels). On the creek-side Sandesh had already tied two bamboos in the water one near each wooden gate of the middle opening of the ughad 18 …Nitin got down into the creek and closed the sluice gate and tied the fishing net to the small gap between the two doors of the gates on the paddy field side to allow the water to flow in through the opening of the net. The high-tide started at around 11:05 a.m. The idea to tie this instrument was to catch in the bagali the fish entering with the tide. [Since the other end of the bagali is tightly knotted] the fish will be trapped inside it. It took about half an hour for him to adjust the net to suit the flow of the water. Dry leaves and branches entered the net and blocked the instrument. Nitin patiently removed these and arranged the net properly. Later, I learned from his mother that after two hours when the tide turned low he went to turn the fishing net on the other side to catch the fish that flowed out with the receding water.

Going to the cities Some sought to supplement their meager income by taking up jobs in the cities, generally in Bombay and nearby towns of Thane, Panvel and Kalyan. A good option for educated was that of teaching in Zilla Parishad primary schools. This occupation was secure and also respected. A large number of seventh class pass persons went into it. Immediately after Independence, the situation was such that jobs were readily available. The postings were usually in some

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village in Raigad district. Very few of these primary school teachers went on to get further education or climb the ladder of the professional hierarchy and almost all retired as primary school teachers. Another alternative of strenuous labour work, not as well-paying though, was much in vogue in the region and especially in Chirner. A large number of persons, all men, were employed from a very young age as servants, waiters or cooks in the small food outlets, canteens and Udupi restaurants in Bombay. 19 This practice of setting out at the age of seven or eight is at least eighty years old. Vaman Naik (83), from Taki village narrated his trip to Bombay – I studied till the third class in the Vindhane School. I left the school in 1930. After the Chirner Satyagraha, the police used to make rounds and keep a watch on the area. Once I, my sister and another Koli friend were returning from school and the police ordered us to stop. It was the harvest (kapani) season. Being afraid of the police, we ran away and also the people who were cutting the crops in the field. After that I dropped out of the school and went to Mumbai. In Mumbai, I worked in the hotel as a waiter in Girgaon for four years. After that, my father brought me back because there was no one to look after the paddy cultivation.

Prior to Independence, many villagers from Chirner and its neighbouring villages ended up in Girgaon, south Bombay. As the city grew in leaps and bounds and the suburbs developed, the stream of migrants in search of hotel jobs flowed towards suburbs such as Thane and Mulund. There are localities in these suburbs where people from Chirner and around form a majority. A Corporator from one of the wards in Thane Municipality won the election on the votes of the people from Chirner, because of the sheer number of these people in that locality. Migration to the city had some very significant impacts on the place of origin. Girgaon was the high culture zone of Maharashtrians in Bombay and Maharashtrian Brahmans predominated in the area. The area was high on cultural activities such as Marathi theatre and the celebration of the Ganapati festival. 20 This cultural environment had its influence on the rural poor who formed the working-class population. As in earlier years, migrant workers took Ganapati and the grandeur of the Marathi theatre from Girgaon to where they came from. The generation of the 1970s that flocked into the suburbs of Thane and Bombay took the Shiv Sena and its ideology of Maharashtrian identity to their regions of origins. (This has been discussed in Chapters Five and Six).

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Around 1975, the minimum monthly pay for a hotel employee was rupees ten, and the highest job that one could aspire for, that of a cook, did not fetch more than forty rupees. Then what was it that drew men in fairly large numbers to the city for such physically demanding and highly insecure jobs? One of the informants reasoned, “At least one was sure of getting a full meal, twice a day, free of cost.” That was incentive enough for a community where families

had to struggle for the daily meal.

7.4 Land: the history of its making in and around Chirner Chirner and neighbouring villages A group of ten villages that I describe here form a cross-section where three locally identified groups of villages intersect (see Map 3.3 in Chapter Three for the villages of Uran taluka). For our convenience we may call these villages a sub-region. Like the rest of the taluka, it is also characterized by vast stretches of Kharland. Chirner was and still is the cultural and economic capital, of not only this sub-region but also of the entire eastern Uran. Khopata, Koproli, Mothi Jui, Kalambusare, Bhom, Taki, Vindhane, Dhakati Jui and Borkhar are the other villages of this sub-region. This sub-region is in the eastern part of Uran taluka which is geographically discontinuous from western Uran. Western Uran is popularly known as mahalan vibhag. 21 It is separated from the eastern part by a creek, alternately called Khopata creek or Karanja creek after the villages that are settled at its opening near the sea. It runs down upto Panvel. This sub-region of ten villages intersects with at least three groups of villages, identified by the residents of the region. Prior to Independence, these were the units of the non-formal political system – the caste council - of the Agari community. The primary body at the level of the village was known as gavaki (village administration). When several gavakis of say eight, ten, twelve, fourteen or fifteen villages came together to form an administrative unit, it was called ath (8) gav, daha (10) gav, bara (12) gav, chauda (14) gav or pandhara (15) gav respectively. For example, the Vindhane–Borkhar belt forms a group of eight villages called ath gav, while Koproli and Khopata are a part of a daha gav group, which extends in the southern direction. Chirner (due to its seven padas) is considered a group by itself, but at times it may be clubbed with one of these larger groups of villages. These groupings were not rigid and permanent, and could be changed and rearranged from time to time. Yet, there was and continues to be some element of continuity. They were a part of an

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overarching caste-council of Agaris and acted as the intermediary units that operated between the village and the larger body presiding over. The larger body of the caste panchayat used to be localized group consisting of approximately fifty to one hundred villages and was accordingly referred to as bavan (52) gav, chauryaainshi (84) gav. This body was also referred to as kashi ganga got by the Agaris. A consolidated body of caste-councils of eighty-four villages called chauryaainshi (84) gav, was formed with the initiative of Tukaram Hari Vajekar (an SKP leader we have earlier discussed in Chapter Six) in Uran in the 1950s. Chirner and its surrounding villages were a part of this caste council. Although the types of soil found in this sub-region can be categorized into two broad categories of ‘Khar’ and ‘Sweet’ they are not clear-cut categories as such (Sweetland is the non-saline land and Kharland has relatively higher salinity as it is reclaimed from the sea. For a categorization based on the chemical estimation of salinity in land see footnote 9 in Chapter Four). In fact there is a physical continuity between Sweetland and Kharland, and there are a variety of lands which fall somewhere on the continuum of Sweetland-Kharland. Most of the Sweet paddy fields are located at the foothills of the mountains in Chirner, Kalambusare and Vindhane. One comes across the Kharland only as one starts moving towards the west where the estuaries intrude into the tracts of paddy fields. The more one moves towards the west the characteristic Kharland with its sticky soil, larger bunds, fishponds and network of water channels and sluice-gates becomes predominant.

Geography of the region Mothi Jui 22 and Dhakati Jui are villages settled on the top of two hillocks towards the west of Chirner. An estuary of the Khopata creek intrudes into the region and turns into a large swamp between these two villages. On either side of the estuary are tracts of paddy fields. The ones on the side of Dhakati Jui fall in the jurisdiction of that village and the ones on the other side fall in the jurisdiction of Mothi Jui. Through this estuary, the seawater regularly enters the region and spreads into the paddy fields through smaller streams during the high tide. Sweet water of the springs flowing from the mountains behind Chirner, Kalambusare and Vindhane meets the sea through the same streams. These are creeks, but relatively smaller ones. The placement of these two villages (Dhakati and Mothi Jui) is strategically very

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important as it allows the villagers to control the letting in and letting out of saline water, which is essential for the management of the Kharland. Given below is a rough map of the region. The dark black sprays represent the spread of water - the sea water and the fresh water - that is interspersed in the region. The blank spaces in between are the paddy fields. The sluice gates that control the letting in and letting out of the water in the paddy fields are called ughad. There are several such ughads in the region and depending upon their location and their geographical peculiarities they have identifiable names. One is Kalaichi (Kalai is the Agari term for the confluence of two or more water channels which results in a large water body) ughad. The other ughad near Mothi Jui is called Damakhadhichi (so called, perhaps, after the land and creek (khadi) where the ughad is situated) ughad. The ones near Chirner and Bhom are called Chirnerchi (Chirner village’s) ughad and Bhomchi (Bhom village’s) ughad respectively. There are another two or three smaller ughads between Bhomchi ughad, and Chirnerchi ughad. These belong to the family of Chirlekars. It has been mentioned in Chapter Six that Chirlekars reclaimed this land and continue to own it.

Map 7.1 Map showing the ten villages and their geography (not to scale)

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History of the reclamation of Kharland in the region The Karadis (see Chapter Four for a description of the Karadi community) of Mothi Jui, as the popular Agari memory mockingly tells us, were picked by some savkar called Biwalkar who ‘dumped them in a basket and threw them on the hillock of Mothi Jui.’ This indicates that the Karadis themselves hardly had any say and were mere puppets in the hands of the savkar. As and when their labour was required they could be forced to migrate wherever it was required. In Mothi Jui, the Karadis are inheritors of the largest mass of land in the vicinity. They were perhaps the first settlers to have reclaimed the land. Roughly around 400 acres of land comes under the jurisdiction of their village. Jui, as has been suggested earlier, is perhaps the name associated with and indicating the strategic position of the village in terms of its reclamation of the estuarine swamp, its maintenance and cultivation. Two important openings - Kalaichi ughad and Damakhadichi ughad - that regulate the letting in and letting out of water are located near this village. The tracts of the paddy fields associated with Mothi Jui, those under the jurisdiction of Koproli and Khopata towards the west, those under the villages of Dhakati Jui and Borkhar towards the north, are Kharland paddy fields. These villages were settled in the early or mideighteenth century (according to one informant in Borkhar village), and do not have any share of Sweetland. There are large tracts of land on the western side of Mothi Jui and a smaller tract on its eastern side towards Chirner. The share of Kharland belonging to Chirner is adjacent to this small tract near Mothi Jui and is separated from it only by a small stream. Chirner has both types of land – Sweet and Khar. The Kharland tract of Chirner is peculiar. The land is reclaimed from estuarine swamps, but it is not the typical Kharland that one encounters in the nearby villages such as Mothi Jui. A large chunk of this nearly hundred acres of land is in fact Sweet. Only a small chunk of it is Khar-like in quality. The soil cover is very shallow. One does not have to dig very deep in order to encounter basalt rock, which makes the land highly vulnerable to any shortfall in rain. As the soil cover is not very deep, it easily dries out if it does not rain at regular intervals. The yield from these lands, therefore, is subject to the irregularities and inconsistencies of the monsoon. Compared to other villages, the land in and around Chirner village was reclaimed relatively later, that is in the middle of the nineteenth century, during the British rule, when the British had subsidized the revenue for the reclaimed land in order to encourage agricultural expansion (Charlesworth 1985: 30). While Chirner might have existed at the time

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of or prior to the settlement of Mothi Jui, Borkhar and Dhakati Jui, it did not have its share of Kharland until long after these villages were settled. Also, unlike Chirner, which is a multicaste village, the other villages predominantly having Kharland, are Agari villages with almost the entire population being the Agaris.

7.5 Chirner and its land The non-agricultural land: gavthan The above discussion provided a general picture of the region surrounding Chirner. Let us now focus on the village and its land. It consists of seven padas (settlements): Mool pada, Katal pada, Madhil pada, Kumbhar pada, Teli pada, Chincha pada, and Ranjan pada. These are comparatively independent settlements connected to each other by unpaved village roads. Mothe Bhom and Dhakate Bhom, although often considered to be padas, are more like satellite villages of Chirner. Dhakate Bhom is a part of Chirner Gram Panchayat, but only some households from Mothe Bhom are enumerated in it. The remaining part of the village Mothe Bhom comes under Mothi Jui Gram Panchayat. The village settlement is at the centre of the agricultural land. The area on which the village is settled is called gavthan (this term is used all over Maharashtra). The remaining unoccupied land consists of cultivable and non-cultivable land. The non-cultivable land also includes land under forest, but some of the forest land is owned privately by the villagers. This type of land is called maal varkas. It is not very suitable for cultivation. It is covered by a variety of wild vegetation and families use these pieces of land to collect their private supply of firewood. Some families own large tracts of maal varkas. They provide a regular source of income through the sale of such trees as teak, and khair (Acacia catechu). The total area under the jurisdiction of the village is 1017 hectares. Out of that, 415.31 hectares are under forest. Out of the remaining some 74.54 hectares are not available for cultivation. That makes the total area under cultivation in the village 528.10 hectares (see table 7.1).

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188.20 70.73

762.26 136.88

78.76

39.40 132.92 52.3 115.62 39.42 64.85 362.21 17.90 386.55 92.95 114.29 165.50 204.74 129.38

59.93 55.97

0.40 565.57 94.35 37.95

38.85 123.41

54.91 44.01 7.65 14.64 22.81 238.63 146.55 17.63 153.71 19.63 24.24 42.33 82.93 190.37

Total

Area not available for Cultivation

Culturable Waste

Unirrigated

Name of the Village Pohi Dighode Bori Bk.* Harishchandra Pimpale* Kanthavali Ransai Vindhane** Bhom Jui* Dhasakhoshi* Bandhpada* Kacherpada* Koproli Kalambusare

Irrigated

Census Sr. No. 47 17 8 23 32 49 60 6 26 15 3 28 36 31

Forest

Table 7.1 Distribution of land in hectares in Chirner and other villages

342.44 303.63 59.88 130.26 62.63 1631.31 739.99 73.48 540.26 112.58 138.53 207.83 405.28 443.16

14 Chirner ** 415.31 315.82 212.28 74.54 1017.95 Source: Census of India, District Census Handbook, District Raigad, 1991 (the District Census Handbook for 2001 is not available yet) . Note: *Many of the village names, as they appear in the census reports and in the tehsil office revenue registers are not the names used by people. These are names of the revenue villages registered during the British rule, mapped accordingly and used by the government officers for the convenience of collecting revenue. These names remain unchanged till date on paper. Many of the villages in the census list appear uninhabited because they are revenue villages, not inhabited by people and thus not identified as ‘villages’ by them. This discrepancy between the people’s categorization and the categorization by the revenue officers is striking. For example, Bori Bk. is Borkhar for people. Harishchandra Pimpale is Dhakati Jui. Jui is Mothi Jui. Dhasakoshi, Bandhpada and Kacherpada together constitute one village which is Khopata. **Vindhane includes Taki village.

Agricultural land – Khari jamin and godi jamin (Sweetland and Kharland) Apart from the general Sweet (godi) and Khar (khari) categories into which the land is divided, the people of Chirner categorize land further and have identifiable names for smaller sections of this cultivable land depending upon its location, the quality of soil or some other peculiarities of the landscape. The lands to the east, north and south of the gavthan area are all Sweetlands. The large mass of Sweetland towards the south-east of the village is known to be very fertile. This land is called shilotra. The lands further south to the shilotra are called akkadevi after the goddess Akkadevi who is believed to reside in this part. The Sweetlands in the north-east direction of gavthan are called ponda. The lands to the south of the village beyond the Saai road are called puran or adoshi. To the west of the village beyond the main road is the mass of Kharland. In the northeast direction of the village, behind the ponda, a stretch of land is cultivated by the villagers of Chirner. It is named ransai

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after the dam built on the river Rahi. People from Chirner have their vegetable gardens on this land. These gardens are fed by the water of the Ransai dam.

Map 7.2: Chirner and the spread of its cultivable land (not to scale)

The northern part of the Kharland is called takal. Takal refers to patches of basalt within the otherwise fertile soil of the land. Since this part of the Kharland has such rocky patches strewn all over and because the soil cover is shallow it is called takal. The southern part is called dudhi khar. The Kharlands which are located further south beyond the road are called dhond khar. The peasants may or may not identify their own pieces of land with specific names. A set of generic terms are in use in the local parlance which describe the size and shape of the pieces of land. Khosa, daitha and dag are some of the terms. Some of the lands also have names derived from some ancestor who first owned the land or from some peculiar feature of the land. Most of the land near Akkadevi and the land in shilotra is owned by the people of Mool pada. Hardly any peasant in Mool pada owns Kharland. It is almost exclusively

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cultivated by the families of Madhil pada, Ranjan pada and Chincha pada. Katal pada residents have their share of land in the Sweetland paddy fields in adoshi and puran. Although the residents of Madhil pada have a kind of monopoly over the Kharland, they also have their share of Sweetland in some of the above mentioned Sweetland areas. People of Dhakate Bhom have their share of land in the Kharland belt, but the quality of soil is not very different from that of the Sweetland soil. The fertility and retention of moisture for a relatively longer duration has made it possible for the residents of the Mool pada to grow two crops in a year in their fields. The monsoon is for paddy. But in the winter, crops of pulses like vaal (dried field beans), chavali (white kidney peas) and moog (green gram) are cultivated. These are fed on moisture retained in the soil. The winter dew keeps the soil moist till the crop is ready in March. These do not require much investment in terms of either human power or money. Many peasants have recently planted hybrid varieties of mango trees, which are a stable source of income. Mool pada is also the earliest settlement of the village. This is evident from various factors. The name ‘mool’ means ‘origin/original’. A few years back it was the only place where the high-caste population was settled. Brahmans, Sonars, Kumbhars, Agaris and Mahars all stayed there in neatly segregated sections. Even today the Brahmans, Sonars and Buddhists (erstwhile Mahars) are only in this pada. The Kumbhars have moved out and have settled near Madhil pada. Their settlement is called Kumbhar pada. The school, when it started, held its classes in this pada. While the other padas have the appearance of houses huddled in a shabby manner, this pada has neat lanes of houses leaving spacious roads in between. The only temples of Bahiri and Mariaai in the village are located in this pada. 23 The annual fair held in the first month of the Hindu lunar calendar is in honour of Mariaai of Mool pada. The special ritual of saath, to appease the goddess performed on behalf of the entire village, is for the Mariaai of Mool pada. Villagers do not start the transplanting activities without seeking her blessing and without gratifying her. Katal pada can be associated with the adoshicha maal. The Gondhali and the Keni family with the largest share of land in the pada have their land mainly in the forest located towards the south of the village beyond the Chirner-Saai road. These are all Sweetlands. The major shareholders in the Kharland of Chirner are some select families from Madhil pada, Ranjan pada and Chincha pada.

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Kumbhar pada is the pada of Kumbhars (potters), but this settlement was formed much later. In the beginning Kumbhars had their own separate aali (lane) in Mool pada. Hardly any Kumbhar family owns land and they earn their living mainly through pottery. Teli pada was home to the Jewish Teli (oil-presser) community. The Teli pada has Teli only in its name. The Telis, being Jews, left for Israel. Today it is mainly occupied by the Agaris. The association of these different padas with different portions of the lands has influenced the way in which labour is organized and managed within them. Earlier the rates for labour, cattle, ploughs and other productive items were decided by the individual padas through the presiding councils or gavakis (village committee nominated or elected or by consensus). Today, although the control of gavaki has declined, it continues to have some say in the regulation of wages. Although there was no such rule, people invite men and women from their own padas to work on their fields. Villagers also preferred to work in their own padas. Familiarity with the people, terrain and proximity are the reasons behind such a preference. Thus, I observed that the patterns of labour organization and management, supplementary employments, incomes and educational levels varied from pada to pada. Each pada had its own unique complex of economic activities.

7.6 Labour, gender and caste in Chirner The labour of the Agari peasant population goes into a complex of economic activities which are intricately linked and complimentary to each other. Traditionally, the means of earning one’s livelihood were always more than one, and even today this trend continues although the need to diversify has become less compelling due to various factors. The crop of paddy can be grown only once in a year as the farmers have to mainly depend upon the monsoon but the new varieties have increased the yield. Not all lands are irrigated, but a miniscule section in Chirner does draw upon irrigation facilities for the vegetable gardens. In Vindhane, some farmers who have land near the Ransai dam are able to irrigate their land and are able to grow a second crop of paddy. In Chirner, some farmers grow second season crops of vaal (dried field beans), moog (green gram) and chavali 24 (white kidney peas) after the paddy harvest. Without any irrigation, these crops are grown on the soil moisture and the dew. Also an increasing number of people are employed in salaried jobs of one kind or another. Thirty years before, these secondary crops were more of an exception than a rule. The yield from the indigenous varieties of rice was very low. Barring the richer families, the

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collection and sale of firewood, daily wages and self-employment of various kinds and sale of marine products were the main means of supplementing the meager returns of agriculture. The daily diet was often supplemented with the catch of fishing expeditions and wild varieties of plants. The relatively well-off families, however, had other means of self-employment rice trade, liquor-making, running grocery shops, trading in the supply of grass, construction of houses, 25 the making and selling of stone articles, carpentry, cattle rearing and so on.

Collective labour: jol, majat/madat In addition to these livelihood activities, there were other occasions when the entire village or at least the entire pada pulled together for some collective work. Although this practice of coming together for work in the village has almost died in Chirner, in other villages it continues, albeit on a much reduced scale. This form of collective labour is called chulis jol (collective labour- jol formed by drawing from every hearth - chul). Jol karane means coming together for collective work. Majat/madat is hired labour but drawn from this collective labour force of the village (it is discussed later). The management of these activities was in the hands of the caste-based community councils. Some twenty or thirty years back, the castebased councils still prevailed over most of the internal matters of a pada. Since then the gradual decline of caste-based councils (jat panchayat, gavki etc.) started. While Ranjan pada boasted of one such council in action just five years back, the people from Mool pada and Katal pada recalled specific instances when the powers of the councils were challenged, which paved the road for their disintegration thirty years ago. Councils do exist today but in a more fragmented form and with very little power over the residents of the pada. TL, a Congress party worker, now in his seventies, recalled how it happened during his youth in Katal pada (Chirner) – In 1962 when the three-tier system of local self-government was implemented, the authority to impart justice was also handed over to the Gram Panchayat. One of the office holders was a chairman who was to have the right to impart justice over conflicts in his jurisdiction. Just around the time when in our village we were to have the meeting to elect the chairman, a case of capital punishment flashed in the newspapers. In western Maharashtra someone was hanged on the Banyan tree [by the judgment of the Village Panchayat] and the central government took away the authority to impart justice from the Gram Panchayat… Later, in a case of dispute in our village my uncle was the accused, and the gavaki charged him with penalty. But he defied it and it is since then that the influence of gavaki gradually declined.

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The government’s decision to take away the judicial powers that it was planning to accord to the Gram Panchayat led to a gradual decline of power of the caste council. Earlier the council regulated and managed the labour force of the respective pada for specific community works, such as the cleaning of the village pond or assistance during marriages or after deaths. Marriages and death related rituals were seen as the responsibility of the entire community and were not considered the private affairs of the concerned family. Even today the immediate neighbourhood, which also generally coincides with one’s lineage, shares the work-load of marriage and funerals. However, the gavaki has lost its hold on these matters. RT from Chincha pada recalled how the decline of the powers of the village council happened in Ranjan pada and Chincha pada; both the padas had a joint gavaki, which was in operation, until quite recently, that is five years back The gavaki made a decision to reduce the days of celebration of the marriage from three days to a single day. Community was directed to wrap the entire marriage within a day (with the intention of minimizing huge waste full expenses arising out of vanity)... However, one of the residents of the pada did not stick to the decision and carried out the marriage in usual manner. It became clear that gavaki had lost its influence. Also the proliferation of more than one political party has caused factions within the gavaki.

Bandh-bandisti (bund-maintenance): management of the Kharland The most important activity for which collective participation from the entire village or at least the pada is required is the maintenance of the dike (bandh), which saves the Kharland from the sea water inundation. In many villages where gavaki exists, its work remains the managing of the labour force for this operation. Since Chirner is far off from the sea, the maintenance of the dike never created a do or die situation. Also, the bund has been permanently built by the government under the Kharland development scheme. But in many of the villages where the water-body is larger, elaborate systems for regular maintenance and crisis management are in place. The dike which blocks the sea is twofold. The outer wall is called baher kanta and the inner wall is called aatil kanta. Every year these walls are to be mended immediately after the harvest is over. This is because after the monsoon the salinity of the sea water goes on increasing and is detrimental for the land. Whereas during the monsoon, there is a matching flow of outgoing fresh water, this flow gradually dries up during the post-monsoon phase. Monsoon rains also deteriorate the wall and make it vulnerable. Different villages have

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different methods of managing this crucial operation. Generally the length of the entire dike is divided among the peasants whose land lies along the length of the wall and peasants on their own mend specified portions of land. Otherwise a jol (it includes one person from every peasant household whose land is guarded by the wall) is called and the wall is mended collectively on a convenient day preferably before the full moon day of the month of Kartik which generally falls in December. Even after this collective mending was done, the Patil of the khadi, 26 the kharpatil, had the duty to keep a daily vigil on the level of the sea water. The Agari peasants who cultivate the Kharland keep a track of the tides. The phases of the moon and the timings of moonrise and moonset are kept an account of. A period of one week, which covers the days before and after the full moon day and no moon day, is crucial. Some three to four days before the full moon or no moon day, the peak level of the tidal water starts rising and can break the mud walls which guard the lands from the sea. The following chart was drawn from the inputs of one of my informants from the Taki village.

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Table 7.2 The phases of the moon, associated tidal levels and the Agari and Marathi terms for the same Moon

Term pratipada

Day 1

dis beej

dvitiya

2

teej

tritiya

3

chaturthi

chaturthi

4

and hits the lowest on

panchami

panchami

5

one of the days

shashthi

shashthi

6

towards the middle

saptami

saptami

7

phase ashtami

ashtami

8

navami

navami

9

dashmi

dashmi

10

ekadas

ekadashi

11

baras

dwadashi

12

teras

ttrayodashi

13

chaudas

chaturdashi

14

punav

pouranima

15 Full

/avas

amavasya

Moon/

high water level maintained

U D

H A N

Term Nava

N

Marathi

A

Agari

Water level of the high

B

H

G

Tide starts decreasing

Tidal water level

U D H A N

increases

High tide hits the highest water level

No Moon

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There are chances of breaches (khand jaane) affecting the bund during this period. On these days the patil has to keep a vigil and, if the need be, give a call (haak) in the village. Every household has to respond to these emergency calls and rope in a member (to form a jol) immediately to mend the breach. The walls are mended with large blocks of mud (pend) cut out with instruments (pendasa) designed to cut the clayey soil. These mud blocks are placed where there are cracks or breaches. In Chirner, the bund which walled the creek water was made permanent under the Kharland Development Board scheme with a road running over it. Thus regular mending of the bund is not required. This way of organizing labour is very different from the way in which it would be organized during an agricultural season or otherwise by individual families where the activity in some way contributes to the income of the family alone. This jol, however, also acted as agricultural workers’ collective during the monsoon, especially where transplanting has to be done in large areas. I shall discuss in brief these collective work practices towards the end of this chapter.

Working in the paddy field: a family enterprise Paddy cultivation, even today, is considered to be the responsibility of the entire family. The children are aware of this from a very young age. The old, the young and the children of the family take up as much responsibility as they can in the agricultural operations, which get intensified during the monsoon but are carried out throughout the year. Yet, these days the expectations of the young generation are reduced, as many of them are pursuing education or doing other full time jobs. The activities associated with the agricultural land vary from field to field and from crop to crop. For paddy cultivation, the methods varied from Kharland paddy fields to Sweetland paddy fields. Even within these rather broad categories of land types, individual farmers knew that every field was unique in terms of its soil, availability of water and several other factors which affected the tending practices and productivity. Accordingly, decisions with regard to methods of ploughing, sowing, transplanting, choice of variety of rice and requirement of additional helping hands are specific to every peasant.

Preparing for the sowing: raab, dhepalani, kuravani, nangarani After the harvest, fields need continuous care and maintenance till the onset of the monsoon. Two to three decades ago, the land was the only means of livelihood. It was an integral part of one’s life. Men and women took great care of the land during the non-agricultural season.

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Even today this practice continues, but on a reduced scale and with less intensity. Earlier all the fields – Kharland and Sweetland - were to be pampered with a regular supply of manure. Whenever any one went to the field, it was almost a rule which people follow while visiting near and dear, not to go empty handed. One carried manure, called govar kunda, to the field. It included the waste material accumulated in and around the house, specially cow-dung and dried leaves. Over the months, heaps of cow dung and other waste material would accumulate in the fields. The Sweetland paddy fields undergo a process of burning called raab karane which is believed to provide nourishment to the land for the next crop. This accumulated waste material was spread over the entire piece of land and then burnt into ashes. This was a major task, performed with great care and elaboration. This burns the unwanted weed seeds, softens the soil and provides necessary minerals through the burnt out ash. Only a small section of land, which is used as the nursery to grow rice saplings for transplanting, is burnt. The nursery used to be almost 1/8th to 1/10th of the entire field. In the Sweetland paddy fields, after the raab is completed, the men and women wait for the first few spells of rain so that the soil is loosened up. It has to loosen (mati padane) so as to allow a light-handed digging of the soil (kuravani). A little bit of excess rain would make the soil sticky. This manual digging (kuravane) is also the responsibility of the family. All the family members take part in this and finish it without seeking any outside help. Occasionally, close kinsperson’s help is sought. The soil is dug lightly and rice seeds are sprinkled and then the soil is turned over. The following is a description of the kuravani in Padmakar Thakur’s Sweetland paddy field, situated in Shilotra. The field of Padmakar Thakur (PT) is situated on the way towards Akkadevi….Padmakar Thakur, his wife, niece, brother, and a small boy from their neighbour’s house were present on the field…When I reached the field the sowing had already begun. PT told me that the part where rice was to be sown had been burnt (raab karane) immediately after the harvest. He measured this part with a measuring stick and charted out ten units…one unit was called varaka... PT measured the varaka beforehand [before transplanting, which is not the usual practice] so that when the aavan (tender rice plants) was to be plucked it would be possible for him employ the Katkari women on a lump sum basis for transplanting. The entire patch would be given to ten women who would get 600 rupees for the entire task of digging the aavan. When I reached, PT’s brother, wife and niece (sister’s daughter) were busy digging (kuravani karane) and PT himself was sprinkling the rice seeds. By the time one section (paat) was finished, his father arrived in a bullock cart along with the plough. His father attached the plough to the bullocks and called out to PT to do the ploughing. While PT continued ploughing, other family

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members were engaged in digging manually. Three paatis were dug manually and the remaining two were dug by the plough.

Ploughing is done with the help of the oxen in the remaining part of the field, where the rice plants would be transplanted from the nursery. Depending upon the judgment of the cultivator regarding the patterns of the rains, quality of the soil and the availability of the resources, ploughing may take place once, twice or thrice. Since it is a labour-intensive task, the ploughman gets about rupees 200-250 as his wage (including the wage for his oxen and plough), which is nearly four to five times the wage of a daily wager. Let us see how Devakabai Gharat (55) made certain decisions regarding ploughing, sowing and transplanting in her field. (Later in this section, I will also describe the transplanting by the handa of Agari boys in her field). Sowing had taken place on the 22nd June in Devakabai’s field. The ploughing had been done on the 12th and the 15th of July (nearly three weeks after the sowing). There are two different phases of ploughing. The first ploughing, she told me, is called ukalan during which the soil is dug and broken. In the second ploughing (doon) the already broken soil is made finer in texture…(After the ploughing Devakabai waited for the rains for nearly five days). She told me, with much pride, that her field rarely went without water (implying that it was lucky for her). This was proven by the fact that the day [22nd July] she started the transplanting, had luckily been a rainy day, after nearly a fortnight that went without rain. The day before [21st July], (as it had not rained and water was necessary for transplanting) she had made arrangements for a diesel pump to pull water into the field from a nearby water reservoir. However, at night, it rained heavily and that was sufficient to fill the field with water. This relative abundance of water in her field was also, as she explained, because it was at the foot of the mountain and the rainwater from the mountain drained into her field…

In the Kharland, ploughing is done manually, and not with a plough drawn by oxen. 27 This manual ploughing is called dhepalani. The stickiness of the soil makes it unsuitable for ploughs driven by the oxen. As the soil dries and breaks up after the monsoon, large mounds (dhep) of soil are formed in the field. Dhepalani involves turning these mounds upside down with an iron rod. After these mounds have dried thoroughly in the summer heat they are to be manually broken up to make the soil even. Earlier there were handas for the dhepalani as well. This was the case because Kharland ploughing was more labour-intensive than the ploughing that was undertaken in Sweetland paddy fields. These days the tractors have saved much human labour and handas for ploughing have disappeared, although some peasants do the ploughing manually. Thus, ploughing in the Kharland takes place sufficiently ahead of the rains. Sowing also takes place one week or so ahead of the rains (unlike in Sweetland, where

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the rice grains are sowed after the first shower) and is thus called, ‘waterless sowing’ (suki perani). There are two methods of sowing in Kharland. In one method, the seed is sown all over the field called the broadcast method. In the other method, beds (gaadi) are prepared for the rice saplings and seeds are sown only in these beds for later transplanting. These tasks are performed by the respective families at their own convenience. No help is generally taken from outside. The decisions regarding the choice of method or variety of rice seeds are usually taken jointly by all adult members of the family, with the final decision residing with the head of the family.

Transplantation and harvesting: avanja/lavani, lani/kapani For the labour-intensive activities of ploughing, transplanting and harvesting, the family requires additional assistance. In transplanting, the rice saplings are removed from their beds and planted in the field. There is urgency (as the whole operation is to be completed in the shortest possible time) in transplanting activity and the entire village is in high-gear during these ten-fifteen days. This season of rice transplanting is called lavani (Marathi word lavane means ‘to transplant’. But the corresponding Agari word is avanja). In the Sweetland, the rice saplings are taken up from the beds and are called avan. In the Kharland, the method of transplantation is different from the Sweetland fields. The transplanting activity in the Sweetland fields is called lavani whereas in Kharland it is called avatani (to throw). The technical term used in English for this method is ‘parachute rice transplanting’. None of my informants were aware of this technical term or this method which is identified in the agricultural science as a sophisticated technique of rice transplanting. 28 In the Kharland, the soil is clayey and therefore it comes off with the rice saplings. In fact the peasants see to it that sufficient amount of soil does come out with the plant. The peasants do not clean the saplings and do not press every small bunch of rice plants into the soil with the help of the thumb as is usually done in the Sweetland fields. The rice plants are strewn at regular distances. Because of the weight of sticky clay around the roots, on throwing it perfectly lands with root down, like a parachute, and gently penetrates through the sticky slurry soil underneath the water. More often than not, the strewn sapling is not visible. The water level is generally one foot or deeper in the Kharland. These saplings hold on to the ground within a day. The difference will be evident from the following description of Krishna Gharat’s field. He is a music teacher in a local college and does not have much time to go for work on other people’s fields. His field is in the heart of Kharland in the village Khopata. Therefore, he had to hire the workers most of whom are his relatives and neighbours –

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I, Pappi (Krishna Gharat’s daughter) and a female cousin of Krishna Gharat (KG) left together…by that time KG had already started the work….one by one all workers arrived by 9:30 a.m.... All of them joined KG to remove the valabas (bunches) from the plant bed called phundya. A bunch of plants was removed by putting one’s hands into the mud under the roots of the plants and kept aside. One such bunch was called valaba…around the paddy field there was a narrow low-lying channel called dar. This was formed as the mud on the sides was used to build the boundary of the paddy field. This dar retained water until the end of the season and also contained fish (a characteristic feature of Kharland paddy fields)….there was a scarcity of rice plants in KG’s field (avan)…The workers and KG discussed among themselves what should be done about the scarcity of avan…one of the workers suggested putting more fertilizer (this avan would be transplanted after it had matured)…Meanwhile KG told me some names - vovali, agorli, parangi, laxmi - which are names of the parts of the Kharland belonging to a group of farmers. Usually a part is named after a forefather/mother of the farmer(s) who has reclaimed the land ....Back in KG’s field, the workers arranged themselves in single file and then started the avatani. While working, they chatted among themselves about various topics… …KG and the workers discussed how some farmers were so hard-working that they worked everyday until late in the night and they ridiculed those who could not even get up early in the morning…after finishing the transplanting KG seemed very happy and content about the work done so far. The saplings were evenly planted and they had managed to plant the entire field… he stood on the bund and looked fondly at his own field…

Weeding is done at regular intervals in both Sweetland and Kharland fields. Some families chose to do it more often than others. Some manage with the help of family members, while those with bigger lands hire women to do it. But large-scale weeding with women workers is only done after transplanting. It is a very tedious task in which the weeds (nindan) are differentiated from the rice plants and are plucked out without damaging the rice plants. The trampling of mud during the weeding activity breaks the roots of the rice plants. This is desirable as additional plants are grown at every break point (footwa) helping to multiply the rice plants and hence the output. The next labour-intensive task is harvesting, referred to as kapani in Marathi and occasionally called lani in the Agari dialect. In between the transplanting and the harvest, the vigilant farmer pays regular, almost daily, visits to her/his field. S/he checks the water levels, sprinkles fertilizers and pesticides if needed.

Managing the cattle: govari and gai vathavane The field is to be guarded against stray cattle, which have become something of a problem. In Chirner, some families still tend cattle. Earlier, it was imperative to tie the cattle away from the village on the hillside at the beginning of the transplanting season. A caretaker called

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govari (cow-herder) who was paid by the owners usually took care of the cattle and they were not allowed to stray into the paddy fields. Generally Agari teenagers used to take up this responsibility for their family. Some, from very poor families, would take it up as an occupation. This also helped in the breeding of cows. The practice was called gai vathavane. 29 This practice has completely disappeared, but the ban on the stray cattle stands even today in Chirner, and extends till the day of holi, which generally falls in the month of March. Holi marks the end of the second season crop. After this the norm is to set the cattle free. Earlier, when agriculture was the only means of livelihood, cattle were maintained by almost all families. Cattle provided the oxen for ploughing, a meager yet consistent supply of milk and the essential supply of cow-dung. Cow-dung was used as manure, to smear the courtyard and floors and as an energy source. Now the need for cow-dung has depleted considerably. Fertilizers have come in. There are alternate sources of energy available. Very poor families still smear their floors with cow-dung but most of the families have tiled floors. Thus, many of the families have left the cattle in the wilds, which has become some sort of a menace.

The meal for the agricultural workers The woman of the house has the responsibility of arranging food for the workers. A meal of bhakari (bread made of rice flour) with vegetable curry or fish is due to the ploughmen and the varaka 30 diggers. A work day for the workers transplanting, weeding and harvest usually begins at around nine in the morning. The peasant family’s day beings earlier, at around seven in the morning. An hour or so after the workers for the transplanting, weeding or harvest have started, a tea break takes place. Three hours later there is a lunch break and before one finished the work in the evening, another tea break at around four takes place. The woman of the house either single-handedly or assisted by her unmarried daughters, daughters-in-law, sisters-in-law and occasionally some other relatives (for example, sisters who might be married in the same or nearby village), prepares the food, takes it to the field, serves it, brings the vessels back and cleans them. One or two persons are constantly required to take care of the preparation of food and its conveyance to the fields. This is a strenuous activity. Distantly located fields add a further burden.

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Sharing labour for agriculture: majat, handa, parakel and hired labour Majat A form of shared labour, in vogue in Mothi Jui, was majat/madat or jol. We have seen earlier that jol was the labour force drawn from the village for some public work, such as cleaning the ponds or mending the dike. Since these durable and very large groups (membership usually exceeding forty) consisted of men and women, who knew each other fairly well and were used to working together, they were hired as a group for transplanting activity where the area to be covered under cultivation was large. Near Chirner, however, this practice was more in vogue among the Karadis in the neighbouring village of Mothi Jui. In Pen, this practice is in vogue in the Agari villages as well. People in Chirner, or any other neighbouring village, did not mention the hiring of majat for private agricultural work. 31 Some Karadis from the Mothi Jui village told meIn our village, the average size of a field is very big. Each paddy field would be of two or more acres. In these lands the avatani is done by a large army of workers called masti (a variant of majat/madat [and interestingly also means having fun]). Every bhajani mandal 32 goes for a masti. They are paid on lump sum basis. The daily wage in Mothi Jui is between forty to fifty rupees. At a time one has to pay about 1500 to 2000 rupees for a masti.

Handa A system of co-operative labour group called handa is in vogue in Chirner. 33 At times, handa and parakel were used alternately as they had the same underlying principle - exchange of labour. But people pointed out the difference between the two. A handa is an informal temporary group formed of ten to fifteen persons belonging to different peasant families. For various labour-intensive tasks, as a group of workers, they take turns to finish the work in the fields of every member family. For instance, a handa would be formed for the transplantation activity, which was spread over a month. The handa would hold together for that period. Although handa is an old practice and survives till date, it has undergone several changes over the period. This has happened under the influence of technological advancement and change in the local economic structure with the emergence of an international port and a new city in the vicinity. In Chirner, the older generation recalls that handas were more in vogue in the past. It also appears from the discussions that they were used for more diverse purposes. For

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example, rice-husking was a seasonal activity usually performed before the monsoon or prior to some festive occasions. When the mechanized rice mills run on electricity were yet to make their presence felt, most of the husking, winnowing, polishing or grinding of the rice grains was done manually by women. 34 The nature of the work and quantities of rice required many helpers. Women then formed handas to perform these tasks. Old women remembered the handa of their young days often reminiscing, “…this, this and that woman was in our handa. We were such great friends.” Some twenty to thirty years back, handa after handa would be formed throughout the non-agricultural season (December-May), for the maintenance of the Kharland paddy fields. These handas have virtually disappeared today. There were several tasks such as mending or making the fences or the bunds, 35 ploughing, cleaning and so on which were performed by handas where men and women worked together. It has been pointed out in the previous section that due to the use of tractors these handas have disappeared. Handas were also formed for the collection of firewood. Men and women, often husbands and wife would go together in these groups to collect firewood from the forest. In the handa or parakel, the men and women, knew each other very well. These were informal groups of predominantly young men and women, who were either neighbours or relatives. Earlier such occasions of work were accompanied by spontaneous compositions of couplets called ambavanis. These are teasing songs known for their sexual undertones. While such songs would be well-known to earlier workers, these days one hardly gets to hear them. However, handas for transplanting and harvesting are in vogue even today given the pressure to finish these tasks within a stipulated time period and the labour intensity of the tasks. Husking is done on power mills. Firewood is no more so much in demand, due to the availability of alternate sources of energy and also alternate sources of livelihood, and the relative improvement of the standard of living among the villagers. Only two handas were organized for the transplanting of the respective fields of the peasant families during my fieldwork. Both the handas were from Mool pada. From the description so far, it may appear that handa is the predominant system through which people fulfill their requirements of labour. However, currently that is not the case. People combine the systems of handa, parakel and hired labour to suit their convenience. The pattern in place these days, however, for agricultural work is of hiring a handa rather than forming one on the cooperative basis from among the owners of the land

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themselves. During my stay in the season of transplanting, there were at least four handas of young men. All members of the handa fell in the age group of fifteen to twenty-five. Out of these, three handas were of Agari boys while one was that of Katkari boys. The peasants who owned larger pieces of land often hired these handas for the transplanting work. These peasants were too old to be a part of the handa themselves and also did not have younger family members available to help them as the latter were either studying, employed in salaried jobs or businesses, or unwilling to lend a helping hand. The following description is of a young men’s handa. In the morning I went to Devakabai Gharat’s (DG) house in Mool Pada but she had already left for the field. I waited for some time and then went to her field with her mother-in-law (distant) and her niece, Hema. Both of them were going to repay their parakas. RG’s field is in shilotra. It took some thirty-five minutes to reach the field. When we reached at around 11 am, the handa of some eleven Agari boys was already doing the transplanting. Apart from them, nine Katkari men and women were working on the varaka….Hema asked her aunt (DG) whether she could do the transplanting. (She wanted to go with the boys who were also friends of her brother, DG’s nephew). But DG replied – ‘I did not call you for lavani (which is a relatively easy and enjoyable task), I called you for the avan’ (for which she needed helping hands)….DG left for home to prepare the meal…the old lady (DG’s mother-in-law) and Hema were discussing about the nakshatra. 36 They told me that during the porancha nakshatra it did not rain at all. It was only during the dokryancha nakshatra that it had rained [it had not rained for an entire fortnight]. The old lady then turned towards the boys, and taunted, “Hey boys, the young men only showed off without helping much. They just flaunted their motorbikes and did not do any real work.”….at around 12 in the afternoon DG’s nephew, also a member of the handa, arrived with the tea. The moment he was seen, he was greeted with muddy mounds of soil thrown by his friends who were doing the transplanting. He served them tea and toffees. The boys, mischievous as they were, finished almost all the tea and the varaka workers and the women were left with almost none. DG’s mother-inlaw scolded her nephew for not distributing it evenly to all...

This handa, formed three years ago, consisted of eleven Agari boys and one non-Agari boy. The youngest member of the handa was sixteen years old while the oldest was twentytwo. Three members were school dropouts. The remaining members attend schools or colleges. Some of them use the money earned through wages to pay their fees. Some earlier members of the handa who have secured jobs, moved out and new members have joined in. Another handa that was making the rounds in the village during the transplanting season was that of Kumbhar (potter) women. Throughout the summer, these women would be engaged in the tasks of making earthen pots and pans. They entered the paddy field only for the transplanting period. They told me that they usually undertook transplanting work only for

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a few selected families for whom they have been working for several years. Relatively betteroff families with larger pieces of land tend to hire the handa of Kumbhar women. These handas were paid the wages meant for a daily wage-labourer, but at times ten to twenty rupees extra. The standard wage presently in Chirner for a full day’s work is fifty rupees for women. For men it is sixty rupees. Every person in a handa would instead take fifty-five to sixty-five rupees or even more. These wages varied from village to village and therefore handas from Chirner went to villages which offered higher wages; and likewise handas from other villages where wages were lower than those of Chirner came lured by the extra ten rupees. Handas from such villages as Mothi Jui were preferred by the Kharland peasants due to their knowledge and expertise in the transplanting of Kharland paddy fields. This seemingly simple act required judgment and knowledge of the Kharland paddy cultivation. The farmers of Chirner who have Kharland paddy fields therefore hire the Karadis of Mothi Jui who are experts in Kharland paddy cultivation. It is also believed that they are more hardworking, sincere and charge less than what is regularly charged in Chirner. Likewise, handas from other distant Kharland villages such as Aware, Govathane, Kelavane, Dighati and Sai which are Agari villages made their way to Chirner. This description from my field notes is about a Sweetland field where there were hired workers from the Sai village for transplanting. I reached Chirner at around 2:30 p.m. and went to Ajay Mhatre’s field (he is a resident of Mahdil Pada, Chirner; and his land is situated in Adoshi)...there are three pieces of land, adjacent to each other – two smaller ones and a large one. The Mhatre family and the hired labourers were resting in the shadow of a tree after their afternoon meal. When I commented that the women and men did not look familiar, Mrs. Mhatre informed me that they were from the nearby village Sai. Ajay Mhatre’s sister is married into this village and these folks were the neighbours of his sister. Every year they came to assist Ajay Mhatre. They are given fifty rupees for wages and five rupees travel expenses along with a meal and tea. “Workers from Chirner arrive only at 10 in the morning. These women from Sai arrive at 8. They start the work early and also do it faster than the people of Chirner”- said Ajay Mhatre. At 2:45 p.m. they started the work…Ajay Mhatre’s wife, mother and sister went to pluck the saplings (avan) and tie the bundles (moothis). Ajay Mhatre was digging the sides of the field where the plough had not reached and a great many weeds had grown. The Sai workers stood in a single file and started planting. As they did their work they sang songs. There was lot of teasing also going on with each other… as the work was going on, the children of Ajay’s sister were playing around. They were catching the small crabs and collecting them in plastic pouches. When they ran out of plastic pouches I offered them an empty camera roll box. They merrily wandered around in the field splashing in the water. Their mother once

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asked the girl to take the moothis (bundles of the rice saplings) to the transplanting workers. One of the girls tied her frock around her waist to allow swift movement in the muddy water, and started fetching the moothis…Their uncle (Ajay Mhatre) lovingly scolded them for trampling on the loose soil and asked them to go to the other field to collect the shellfish (khube).

On the other hand the handas from Chirner went to villages such as Chirle or Jasai. These villages have lost some of their land and have received remuneration for land acquired by CIDCO. As a result the population of these villages is comparatively well-off and offers higher wages in order to attract workers. In their own village they have a shortage of workers as many of them are employed in the nearby container terminals. The young men are also unwilling to work in the field and can afford to get the work done by hired labour. That is not the case in Chirner and its neighbouring villages. What was the advantage of hiring a handa when one could as well hire ten to fifteen men and women who were not necessarily bound by a handa? One advantage was that one did not have to run around contacting several people to get them to do work. One had to only contact the person in charge of a handa and book it for a specific day. Secondly, usually it was young men and women who formed a handa given the stamina required to perform such labour intensive tasks as transplanting, for several consecutive days. So they were more efficient and faster at the task. Thirdly, it was generally friends and kin who came together to form a handa. In addition, having worked with each other for some years their familiarity and compatibility with each other also showed in the quality and quantity of the work. In short, a handa may be considered as an enterprise formed to offer services on a turn key basis so that the farmer does not have to bother about any management issue. It, being a close-knit group working together repeatedly, assures perfect coordination and expertise, resulting into better quality and productivity. Naturally, it makes commercial sense for an intelligent farmer to engage a handa.

Parakel Parakel allows for the much needed flexibility; it is a kind of middle ground between hired labour and shared labour. In simple words, it is the exchange of workers between two households. If I go to your field for a day’s work, you will return it by coming to my field for a day’s work. While the same principle is at the basis of the system of handa, in the handa one is bound to go to the fields of all the members involved in a particular handa. Parakel however operates on a one to one basis. Here, the agreement is between two households and

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not between all the ten to fifteen households. Parakel allows one to pay in the form of one’s own labour. Married women from not very well-off families usually get the assistance they need for their paddy fields by opting for parakel. 37 If, for instance, five workers are required, a woman would work for five days in different paddy fields and the owners would make returns by offering a day’s work to her. A work-day can be returned in the form of actual work or in the form of money if the situation so demands and if it is agreeable to both the parties. In recent times it is becoming quite common for people to have money to pay but to not have enough people available to do the work. Handas are well-suited for transplanting, but that is not the case with the harvest when the crop is cut and grains are threshed. The harvest season is spread over a month or two and therefore there is not so much pressure to get the work done. This is because different varieties of rice mature at different times. While handas are also formed for the harvest, it is usually managed with hired labour and parkel.

Wage labour: nangarni, varaka, majoori Some tasks draw more hired labour than others. Ploughmen (nangare) were usually hired unless of course the family had its own plough and oxen. In earlier days, almost all families with Sweetland field had ploughs and oxen. That is no more the situation today. A ploughman gets the wages equivalent to four men. In Chirner, the current wages for ploughmen range between 200 to 250 rupees. If a family had a plough and oxen, they usually became a part of a handa, especially if they held large amounts of land. The underlying principle for these handas of ploughmen and oxen was same as the principle that was behind the functioning of the workers’ handa. The rice saplings in the Sweetland paddy fields were to be plucked (khanane) and removed from the bed (avan) and small bundles of rice saplings were to be prepared before the transplanting began. The pulling out of the rice saplings is a tiresome and labour-intensive task. One has to take care that the roots do not break. The saplings are to be washed clean of the mud from the roots and tied into bundles of twenty-five to thirty rice saplings. This special task takes time and so has to begin much ahead of the actual task of rice transplanting. Therefore, the remuneration for it is higher than the regular wages. The portion of land with the rice saplings is divided into measured squares. A single square is called varaka. Every varaka fetched wages equivalent to a working day. This is a form of piece rate labour, as

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against daily wages. This wage-work was called varaka khanane. Better-off farmers usually hired Katkari men and women for this task. A Katkari, it was generally understood, dug two varakas by afternoon and a group of them would usually finish the entire task by noon. Thus, transplanting work could be carried out smoothly. This was a good source of income as one who had the knack could manage to earn the wage of two days within half a day.

7.7 Conclusion The intention here is not to argue that the Agari peasants were operating in some utopia, away from the market driven global society, where they had full control over their productive labour and produce. That would be a travesty of the truth. But it is also true that the Agari peasant was relatively cut off from the urbanized and industrialized world until as late as the 1970s. Since then new hybrid varieties entered the region. The peasant was the owner of her/his small piece of land and was producing rice and other materials for her/his private consumption, selling these occasionally. This, and the cultural ethos, gave the community its typical character. The joy that they derived from their work, especially the agricultural labour, is manifest through the various practices associated with labour. Working is a collective activity where new friendships are made and old ones nurtured, old kinship relations reinforced and new ones nurtured. Physical labour and the social life are virtually inseparable and have given the community a peculiar sense of identity. The peasant ethos that I have described does recall the arguments and descriptions of Scott (1976) and Chayanov (1966) for instance. However, here, the non-Brahmanical ideology also enters in to the creation of a caste ethos. The Agari works with the plough and the soil; the Brahmin will not and is mocked for his inability to do so. The pride the Agari takes in capacity to labour is the pride of the peasant, but is also the caste pride of a non-Brahmanical community. However, we also saw that the region and community are undergoing changes that are apparent in the labour practices of the community. It is not that these changes were prompted only by the large scale land acquisitions that happened in the 1970s in the nearby region; these changes were underway even before that. During the 1970s and even earlier, for a majority of the families, making both ends meet was a tough job. That changed quite drastically in the decade of the 1980s. Basic infrastructural facilities made life easier. The dependence on physical labour has gone down over the last twenty-five years. As the region is rapidly becoming a part of an urbanized and industrialized metropolitan region, the relation with land and the experience of labour is undergoing significant changes.

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I have argued in the introduction that the interactions of the community, with material conditions of life, shape the community life and their world view. However, the worldview of the community can be distilled only through an ethnographic inquiry as the community has traditionally lacked the means to articulate, and codify it. Their involvement in the reclamation and cultivation of Kharland, which require not only intensive physical labour, but also a coordinated and cooperative management of this labour, has shaped their way of life and also their world-view in significant ways. Their consciousness and identity can be seen as emerging from these labour practices. They derive their identity in a positive sense from their capacities to perform labour. Men and women are valued, respected for their ability to work. I have referred to Marx (1977a) and Gandhi (Desai 1960) to show how when the producer has ownership over the product it is a source of enjoyment. It is an expression of the producer’s ‘individuality’, ‘peculiarity’, and leads to enjoyment derived from ‘an individual expression of life’ (Marx 1977a: 121-122). Here it is necessary to compare the Agari worldview with the Brahmanical ideology, as the latter grades various kinds of labour. The physical labour supposedly does not require mental skills and is therefore considered lowly and defiling. Those who perform it are also devalued. However, among the Agaris, in the practice of labour where women and men both work, one can see that labour is not devalued. Instead it is considered a creative and valuable capacity. This worldview is also reflected through their kinship and family organization, marriage practices and the emerging gender relations. In the next chapter, I delineate the kinship and family organization and the distribution of resources, specifically land.

1

The caste system is also a system of division of labour. In the four fold division, learning and religious

expertise is the monopoly of Brahmans, warfare is the responsibility of the Kshatriyas, trade and commerce is that of the Vaishyas and the menial work is assigned to the fourth category of Shudras. Among the Shudras there is an even finer distinction. While physical labour, in general, is considered lowly, those involved in ‘dirty’ works are even abominable. The jobs, which involve dealing with defiling work, are assigned to the Atishudras who fall outside the varna system and are treated as untouchables. On the other hand, the occupation of the Brahmans i.e. learning and related activities are considered superior to the rest of the vocations. This division of labour is guided by an ideological understanding which also grades different kinds of labour. In this scheme of gradation, physical labour is considered to be of the lowliest kind. Within the category of physical labour, there are finer distinctions. Doing physical labour is considered highly defiling and degrading in India. One of the worst fallouts of this is the general lack of dignity of labour in Indian society. This lack of dignity added to the capitalist system, has accentuated the exploitation of those who rely upon manual labour for their daily bread. It has also propagated that hard work is always a task which is tiring and unexciting, and does

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not require mental skills that are supposedly a superior virtue. It has contributed in a major way to the degrading treatment that the lower castes receive. On the other hand, gender is closely associated with caste. Patriarchy is complementary to the caste hierarchy. For a caste, the claim to purity and the curse of pollution, hinges mainly upon women. The independence of women is considered detrimental to a caste’s claim for higher social status. Therefore, for the lower castes in pursuit of a higher rank, restraining from physical labour is also accompanied by increasing restrictions on women’s movement and autonomy. 2

In the hierarchy within the Maratha caste, an exclusive group of five families is ranked the highest. They are

followed by a group of seven families who are in turn followed by a group of ninety-six families. The ninety-six families who call themselves the shahannav kulis also have a claim to superior status compared to the vast majority of the Maratha-Kunabi caste complex. The shahannav kuli identity is zealously guarded. The boundaries of it are, however, not so well-defined. There is a continuous battle for claims to this identity of shahannav kulis made by the humbler lot of Kunabi-Maratha complex and negation of these claims by the privileged lot (Omvedt 1976: 69). 3

In a marriage song of Chirner, it is the maternal uncle (MB – mama) who carries out various tasks for his

nephew or niece. In Bhiwandi in a similar song the mama is replaced by the word kabadi. 4

Dalitbahujan is ‘a concept that has come to be used to designate a united whole of Scheduled Castes, Scheduled

Tribes and the Other Backward Classes’ (Ilaiah 1996: 166) 5

6

Patravali is a disposable dinner plate made of dry leaves usually used in big feasts. Marx distinguished ‘labour’ from ‘labour power’. Some have argued that this distinction between ‘labour’ and

‘labour power’ was one of the most positive contributions to the science of economics by Marx (Bottomore et al. 1983: 266). ‘Labour power’ is the capacity to do useful work which adds value to commodities. On the other hand, ‘labour’ is the actual exercise of human productive powers. It is ‘labour power’ that is sold by the worker to the capitalist. While commenting on James Mill, Marx argues that when the product of labour is not yet a commodity the experience of labour differed from the experience when it becomes a commodity. In an imaginary interaction between himself (‘me’) and another person (‘you’), Marx demonstrates when their products are not involved in an act of calculated exchange (Marx 1977a: 121-122)Each of us would have in two ways affirmed himself and the other person I would have objectified: 1) In my production my individuality, and its peculiarity, and thus both in activity enjoyed an individual expression of my life and also in looking at the object have had the individual pleasure of realizing that my personality was objective, visible to the senses and thus a power raised beyond all doubt. 2) In your enjoyment or use of my product I would have had the direct enjoyment of realizing that I had satisfied both a human need by my work and also objectified human essence and therefore fashioned for another human being the object that met his need. 3) I would have been for you the mediator between you and the species, and thus been acknowledged and felt by you as a completion of your own essence and a necessary part of yourself and have thus realized that I am confirmed both in your thought and in your love. 4) In my expression of my life I would have fashioned your expression of your life, and thus in my own activity have realized my own essence, my human, my communal essence.

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Instead when the surplus is used as a means of exchange between ‘me’ and ‘you’ (Marx 1977a: 121) Of course in your eyes your product is an instrument, a means to be able to control my product and thus to satisfy your needs. But in my eyes it is the aim of our exchange. For me, you are only an instrumental means for the production of this object that is an end for me while you yourself conversely have the same relationship to my object. But: 1) each of us really acts as the other sees him. You have really made yourself into the means, the instrument, the producer of your own object in order to gain power over mine; 2) your object is to you only the perceivable cloak, the hidden form of my object; for what its production means and expresses is: power to purchase my object. So actually you have for yourself, become a means and instrument of your object, of which your desire is a slave, and you have performed the service of a slave so that the object of your desires shall no more afford you its charity. If this mutual enslavement to an object at the beginning of the process appears now as in a relationship of lordship and slavery, that is only the crude and open expression of our true relationship. Our mutual value is for us the value of our mutual products. Thus, man himself is for us mutually worthless. 7

Harijan was a weekly edited by Gandhi from 1933 till 1955.

8

Ghat is a colloquial term which refers to the Western Ghat or the Sahyadri ranges which separate the coastline

from the mainland of Maharashtra, the Deccan plateau. It refers also to the Deccan plateau, from where, the dhanagars, a shepherd caste of Maharashtra comes to the coast at the end of every monsoon in search of pastures. 9

The concept of ‘labour’ in the capitalist social setup refers to the proletariat (as in labour movement) and/or the

commodification of labour power (as in wage labour or the labour market). Originally though, Marx and Engels endowed the word with a deeper and more fundamental meaning (Marx 1977a: 114-122; Engels 1976). On the other hand feminist scholars like Mies and others (1987) and Boserup (1970) have sought to systematically investigate the invisibility of women in labour through such concepts as ‘housewifization’ and ‘subsistence production’. Women in the western world remain away from ‘productive’ activities because they are either made into housewives or due to their low representation in high profile jobs. In the third world countries, in the informal sector in the urban areas and in the rural areas, women are a part of the labour force but this fact is hardly represented in the official records (Kalpagam 1994). Mies and others (1987) and Whyte and Whyte (1982) expose this low representation of working women in the Indian census records. There are numerous studies which show that women from the lower castes and classes in India have always participated in the productive activities. The works of Gough (1996), Palriwala (1999), Palriwala and Risseeuw (1996), Lessinger (1990) and Mies and others (1987) are testimony to this fact. 10

Rata, ghosalel, harkel, gori patni, khari patni

11

Income data is known for its inaccuracy and discrepancy. To minimize the discrepancy in reporting of the

income during the survey, the informants were not asked about their ‘annual income’ per se. The income for every household was calculated by pulling together information given under various categories. The annual agricultural production, income from salaried jobs, wage labour, business etc. was reported separately and collated to draw income for every household. Despite this strategy, some underreporting and inaccuracy might

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have crept in. Yet, the data does provide a general picture and the comparison between 1975 and 2005 shows the trends in growth of income and its distribution within the village. 12

The discrepancy of ten households is because of the fact that the households with younger members were not

able to furnish information about the situation as it was in 1975. 13

Chirner is settled at the foot hills of a mountain range which was until very recently covered by dense forest

that extended into the famous Karnala bird sanctuary. The forest has grown quite thin. This mountain range forms the boundary of the Panvel and Uran taluka. Some twenty years back Kerosene or Liquified Petroleum Gas (LPG) were not easily available and affordable as they are now and cooking was done exclusively on hearths (chul) fed by firewood. Even today there are hardly any houses without a hearth. This dependence on the hearth required a perennial source of firewood collected from the nearby jungle. Also many villages in the vicinity especially Khopata, Mothi Jui, Dhakati Jui depended upon Chirner for the firewood. After paddy cultivation, firewood was the most important source of livelihood, given the fact that alternate crops such as pulses and vegetables were yet to make inroads. From December to May, many of the families had to depend on income earned through the sale of firewood. Some thirty years back, for landless Agari families, the sale of firewood and daily wages were the main sources of income. Today this has become the pattern with the Katkaris and Thakars, the local tribal groups, since a majority of them are landless. 14

When rice was husked usually a portion of the rice would be tiny broken bits. This broken rice was separated

and used for making flour while the whole grain was kept for cooking rice. Very tiny granules of the rice were called kani, used for making flour or thick soup (kanher or pej); slightly larger granules were called arkanda. Arkanda literally means half rice; and kunda is nothing else but bran used to make bread (kondyachi bhakar), all staple foods for poor. 15

In my excitement to get detailed information during my survey, I used to ask my informants about how many

bundles of firewood one could collect in a month? The answers about the number of firewood bundles were uniformly below fifteen. To the look of surprise on my face for such low numbers as five or seven bundles of firewood per month, my respondents reacted sharply- ‘Don’t we need rest for a day or two in between? Dear, collecting firewood is not an easy business’. 16

During the period of scarcity (1950 to 1975) there were strict controls on the movement of food grains and the

rice was to be sold to the government and no private sale of rice was allowed. As it happens with most of the government controls, demand for rice in the black market rose sharply. Since private black market sale was more profitable, smuggling of rice was rampant. 17

There was a jetty between Chirner and Kalambusare in the Kharland paddy fields. Vessels came from

Bombay, Panvel and southern parts of the Konkan to collect such produce as hay, salt and rice. More costeffective and convenient means for transport of such goods were almost non-existent. 18

The ughad has five gates in total. During the summer four gates are completely closed and only the middle

gate remains open. 19

The small eateries run by south Indians, and found all over Mumbai, are popularly known as Udupi

restaurants. These are named after Udupi, a district in southwest Karnataka, a southern state in India, famous for its vegetarian cuisine.

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The Peshwas, the last rulers of Maharashtra prior to the British, used to celebrate the Ganapati festival since

1761 in Pune, then the capital of Maratha Empire. The festival was discontinued in 1822 when the Peshwa palace was burnt down by the British. In 1893 it was restarted in Pune by one Khajagiwale who was from the family of noblemen of the Peshwas. In the same year, Bal Gangadhar Tilak made an appeal to make it public (sarvajanik). Thus, in 1893 a public festival of Ganapati was started in the Keshavji Naik Chawl of Girgaon taking a cue from Tilak’s appeal for turning the festival public. This drew the wrath of the British government as it was held responsible for the Hindu-Muslim riots in Bombay of 1893 (Sarvajanik Ganeshotsav Sanstha 1992). 21

In Chapter Four I have discussed history and geography of the region in some detail. During the British times

it enjoyed the status of mahal – a small and separate administrative unit, vibhag stands for the word ‘part’. 22

Jui is a very common name for villages in the region, that is in Pen, Panvel and Uran taluka. The name Jui

(island) indicates the strategic position of the village. The residents of at least three juis that I know are the Karadis, a caste group separate from the Agaris. Agaris make it a point to distinguish themselves from the Karadis although there are striking similarities. 23

Mariaai is found in all the Agari villages in the vicinity. Her shrine is also called paar in the Agari dialect. The

informants and some of the folk songs tell us that in old days when a new village was settled, first a paar was established. It is the founding-stone of the village and represents the goddess Mariaai. She is the guardian deity of the village. In Chirner, the temple of this goddess is in Mool pada. These days it is losing much of its longheld importance. Katal pada and Madhil pada also worship similar shrines of the goddess in their padas. These shrines were established when the padas were settled. However, a temple with an appointed priest from among the Agaris is only to be seen in Mool pada. 24

Vaal (dried field beans), moog (green gram) and chavali (white kidney peas) are some indigenous varieties of

pulses. They are an integral part of not only the Agari but also the Maharashtrian cuisine. Vaal and chavali are especially popular among Agaris. Agari marriages do not have a very elaborate menu. A spicy preparation of chavali is an integral part of many wedding feasts. Vaal is also equally relished but is not used in wedding feasts as it is relatively costlier. The monetary returns through these crops are also substantial. A kilogram of vaal is sold for twenty to forty rupees. In the weekly markets, especially those held prior to the monsoon, along with dry fish, onions and garlic, these pulses are in great demand among the Agari women. 25

Building houses with stones was the age old tradition of the rich and affluent. Therefore, stone quarries were a

flourishing industry. These stone workers also made grinding stones, and other stone articles which were then in regular use. 26

Kharpatil is a designation accorded to the patil of the land, reclaimed from the creek (khari). In the villages of

Bhom and Taki informants acknowledged the fact that the patils of their village, who were basically the managers of the Kharland, were alternatively referred to as Kharpatils. Except for Chirner none of them have retained Kharpatil as their surname. 27

The rice grown in Kharland fields enjoys a special status due to this peculiarity. It is called payaluche tandool

(rice untouched by the legs of oxen). The second day of the Ganapati festival beginning on Ganesh -chaturthi (fourth day of Bhadrapada, a Hindu lunar calendar month), is the Rishi panchami (rishi means ascetic sage). This day marks the reverence to galaxy of ascetic sages from Hindu mythology by symbolically emulating their life style. On this day a special vegetarian dish is prepared of roots and vegetables on this occasion. The ingredients

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used for this dish are those which are cultivated without employing bullocks, as the sages ate wild roots and tubers. The ingredients therefore, should be untouched by plough and the oxen (both symbolize the ‘male’). The rice from Kharland fields fits into this category, as it is untouched by the oxen and plough. It has been mentioned earlier that for the Agari community Ganapati festival was initially a festival in the honour of goddess Gaur, who is identified as Ganpati’s mother. The next day of Rishi- panchami marks the arrival of Gaur. 28

A report on the website of the ‘Rice-Wheat Consortium for the Indo-Gangetic Plains’, describes this method

as ‘a technique of tossing rice seedlings, uprooted….containing soil ball, in a projectile manner into the puddled field. The seedlings used for transplanting are uprooted in such a way that sufficient soil adhere to the roots thereby dropping the seedlings upright’ (Afzal 2003, available at http://www.rwc.cgiar.org/Pub_Info.asp?ID=32 viewed on 15th August, 2007). ‘The Rice-Wheat Consortium for the Indo-Gangetic Plains (RWC) is an alliance of the national agricultural research systems of the South Asian countries of Bangladesh, India, Nepal and Pakistan. In collaboration with several international centers and agricultural research institutes, the RWC fosters sustainable productivity in rice-wheat farming systems’ - http://www.rwc.cgiar.org/ viewed on 15th August 15, 2007. 29

One of the neighbouring villages draws its name from this term – Govathane.

30

Varaka is treated as a special form of labour in Chirner. It involves plucking the rice saplings from the bed. It

is a skillful, labourious and time-consuming task. The rate of wages for this, therefore, is higher. I discuss in some detail this form of labour in the following section. 31

‘Today there is a majat on Dhaya Changu’s field’ is the way people informed each other about it. One of my

informants described how a large group of workers assembled and men and women looked forward to such occasions. The meal was cooked on the field for the entire group and was a task in itself. 32

In Mothi Jui, the Karadi village, there are around six bhajani mandals which are troupes of singers. They sing

the devotional songs (bhajans) of varkari panth – a bhakti sect devoted to the worship of Vitthal of Pandharpur. Each bhajani mandal in the village pertains to a pada. The masti or armies of workers are organized around these mandals. 33

This is prevalent in almost all the talukas of Raigad district where Agaris are the main cultivating caste. Handa

is a Marathi word and the Marathi dictionaries offer a variety of synonyms. All of these words hint towards agricultural work, manual labour, cooperation and exchange. In different parts of Maharashtra, different words are used to refer to such co-operative labour practices. However, handa remains unique to this region and perhaps to the Agaris. 34

The large grinding stones were used for husking the rice grain. After husking the husk was removed and rice

was polished with a light handed pounding. An Agari household requires for its daily consumption a sizeable proportion of flour made out of rice. During the husking of rice on the grinding stones some rice was broken in smaller pieces. These residual products were used to make the rice flour. Grinding of the husked rice for daily requirements was done on a daily basis. Rice flour was used to make a variety of dishes ranging from the daily bread called bhakari to some elaborate preparations. 35

The bunds in the Kharland were made of soil; the fences of Sweetland fields were made of thorny bushes, a

local cactus. This was the case because very few varieties of plants are able to survive in the Kharland paddy

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fields. The Kharland paddy fields also need constant and unfailing protection from the ingression of saline water. This is ensured by these large bunds. 36

The Agari peasant’s prediction of the rains during every monsoon is based on her/his understanding of the

nakshatras (constellations), for which there are colloquial terms. The Rohini (Rohini) and Mirig (Mrig) nakshatras are the first ones and they bring the rains. This is followed by the Poranche (children’s) nakshatra and Dokryanche (old people’s) nakshatra. The Poranche nakshatra is believed to give less amount of rain and dokryanche nakshatra to give heavy rains although in reality it may vary. Kolaninche (fisherwoman’s) nakshatra fetches little rain. Generally the rains during this constellation are not considered good for the crop. An Agari peasant would rationalize thus – kolanincha pani nasaka asata. The fisherwoman’s water is stale, and thus not good for the crop. 37

Paraki karunach sheti karaavi lagate. majoori konala paravadate? (Who can afford the daily wages of hired

labourers? We have to complete the agricultural operations by doing parakis.) One of my female informants told me this. (While the system is referred to as parakel the actual practice or the men or women who come for work are referred to as parakis).

Chapter Eight Families, marriage relations and the gendered sharing of resources 8.1 Introduction Earlier chapters have traced the changing patterns of political mobilization for about the last one hundred years, differentiation and stratification within the community, and landownership and practices of labour. These processes have definitely affected the present day-to-day lives of the people and their world view. A household, which often also coincides with the family, is an ideal place to see how the larger changes affect the lives of individual men and women. Yet, a family does not operate in a vacuum. The kinship structure decides much with regards to the organization of family and composition of a household residence and resource distribution. But before we proceed, it is essential to make two points. One is that Maharashtra as a whole is an area which exhibits a certain pattern of kinship organization. Therefore many patterns of kinship organization that we see among Agaris are found all over the Maharashtra. Within Maharashtra, as Iravati Karve has pointed out ‘the Sanskritic northern traits and the Dravidian southern traits almost hold a balance with perhaps a slight predominance for the former’ (1969: 175). There are some practices which reflect the

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northern pattern and some reflect the southern one. Within the Konkan region I have shown (Chapter Four) that the Agaris share similarities in terms of occupations, dressing patterns and customs with some other caste groups - cultivators (Kunabis), the horticulturists (Panchkalashis, Vadvals, Malis) and communities associated with fishing in the sea and reclaiming land (Karadi, Koli). These similarities are also visible in the kinship organization and marriage rules. Yet, the Agaris, through their relationship with the Kharland as peasants, an Agari ethos (language, attire, cuisine etc.), and a conscious attempt to create an Agari identity, construct for themselves a cultural complex which differs from the remaining castes. In section 8.2, I discuss the lineage, family, neighbourhood and their organization. The organization of family and lineage is drawn along the male line. Although this is the case, section 8.3 demonstrates that some features of the Agari kinship organization brought symmetry between the bride-givers and bride-takers. Section 8.4 shows that the married woman’s identity is associated with her maher (natal family) even after her marriage through her brother although the distinctions between the sasar (marital family) and maher (natal family) are emphasized. These patterns however are undergoing changes and they are best viewed in people’s practices. Throughout the discussion I shall examine the official discourse, the practice and the shifting patterns of family structure, marriage relations and distribution of resources. Section 8.5 is the conclusion.

8.2 Family, lineage, neighbourhood and village: the markers of identities Family and lineage: a review of literature Family, lineage, neighbourhood and village are various markers of identity which make an individual’s social image. The projection of one marker and the suppression of the others is, however, contextual. A lineage is made of ‘kin groups who are lineal descendants of a common ancestor’ (Marshall 1998: 153). The descent in the Agari community is through the male line. Having said this, first, let me take a look at the family, the constituting element of the lineage. Family is an important site where social relations are constituted in an ongoing process. It is an ideal micro-unit to trace the changes affecting people’s lives. Before we do that let us distinguish a household from a family. ‘On account of the close association of the

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household with the house and the hearth almost all over India, if not all over the world , the household is an easily identifiable unit’ (Shah 1998: 81). Family as a concept has more to do with the relations. Yet, household is closely related to family and other structures of kinship and marriage. Therefore my investigation of family relations happens through a household. This is why the survey took the household as a unit to collect the information about the families, members of which were not always permanent residents. Although I consider three types of families – elementary, extended and joint - they are not exhaustive and permanent categories. ‘Elementary family’ is generally understood as a ‘group composed of a man, his wife and their children’ (ibid.: 15). An extended family is an elementary family which includes one or more relations other than those mentioned in the definition of the elementary family. Shah (ibid.: 23) defines the joint family as the ‘household with a maximum depth…with all its members living under one roof, eating food cooked on one hearth, holding property in common and pooling incomes in a common fund, incurring expenses from the same fund, participating in the common family worship and working under the authority of the senior most male member,’ but he points out that it is an ideal type. Some households of this description are there in every community or village. But not all joint families satisfy all of these criteria. Very often nuclear families are nuclear by residence but functionally are a part of a joint family with whom they share land, labour, assets, expenses, businesses and other responsibilities. Some extended and joint families have a common house, but separate kitchens. Else, the kitchen and household is common but the property and other responsibilities are divided. Shah (ibid.: 81-95) has shown that rather than being categories; nuclear, extended or joint are phases of the ‘developmental process’ of every family. A family which was earlier joint may give way to a nuclear one which later on may or may not revert to a joint family. But, despite this processual character, families can and do maintain a consistent structure over a considerably long period of time.

Family and lineage in practice The survey of 173 households conducted during the fieldwork shows that there were at least ten families which could be called joint in the ideal sense of the term. Most of these families were relatively better-off, either due to large landholdings, a family business or because their members were educated and employed in salaried jobs. Maintaining a joint family was both a

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luxury which they could afford and a requirement which they could not dispense with - luxury because maintaining the jointness of a family is a costly affair and requirement because it adds strength to the productive capacity of the household. Although a harmonious joint family is held as an ideal, married sons separating from their parents is an accepted and even formalized practice. We shall see how that is the case. But as I have mentioned, households do retain through this processual character a certain tendency, either towards ‘joint’ness or towards ‘nuclear’ness. Ramchandra (61) is a retired primary school teacher. He separated from the joint household, a family of fifteen members in 1977, with his wife and two sons. They had ten acres of cultivable Sweetland and six acres of varkas land. In the joint household all, except Ramchandra and his nephew who were otherwise employed, contributed to the agricultural work. That included his elder brother, sister-in-law, father, wife, two sisters and the younger brother. Ramchandra’s sister-in-law used to work in a handa (labour sharing cooperative) which was essential for such large landholdings. His younger brother got married and then Ramchandra formed a separate household with his wife and two sons. Due to a large landholding and a substantial income, the family did not form separate households until the younger brother was to be married. The land was formally divided some time thereafter. Today Ramchandra holds 2.75 acres of Sweetland and 1.5 acres of varkas land. After marriages of two sons and their children, the earlier nuclear household of Ramchandra has again become a joint one. His younger son manages the land while his elder son is employed as a machinist. The younger daughter-inlaw works with a handa but the elder one’s contribution in terms of agricultural work is almost nil. The transition from joint to nuclear and nuclear to joint is evident here, but the tendency towards maintaining jointness can be seen. This is required and facilitated respectively by the fact that the landholding is substantial and the agricultural income is supplemented by a salary. The majority of the households, however, are either extended or nuclear. Manda is a poor widow who was married in the same village and even the same pada. Now she is staying with her teenage daughter and son. She explained to me how she got separated from her inlaws. Presently she shares the homestead with her brother-in-law (husband’s younger brother) Suresh and his wife. The couple does not have any child. His house consists of two small rooms and has a wall in common with that of Manda. Her house consists of three rooms. These two families do not share very cordial relations and therefore do not talk to each other.

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On the other side, her brother Chandrakant and his family stay in a small hutment. Thus, she shares her courtyard, which is a small lane, with her natal family. She got married in the year 1978. Within a year or so, she and her husband formed a separate household. Since her husband was the eldest among four brothers their family land was not divided. According to the custom, the family land is not divided until the youngest son is married, although the elder brothers may gradually separate out and set up their own houses. Accordingly, Manda and her husband continued to work on the field and receive a share in the paddy. In fact several of the nuclear families could recall the instant and reasons of separation from the larger household. Another old widow told me how her husband’s younger brothers separated out of the house only after their marriages were arranged. Her point was that she and her late husband had fulfilled their responsibilities when they decided to part ways with his brothers. Another woman reasoned - ‘Separate households were set up for all brothers after marriage. Why should we take up the responsibilities of all unnecessarily?’ Usually if the parents are alive, the elder brother may live separately after marriage. Getting children married is considered to be the responsibility of the parents. But if the parents were not alive, the responsibility fell on the shoulders of the eldest brother and he was supposed to play the role of the parents. There were a variety of immediate reasons cited for separation, but after marriage and especially among poorer families, the married male is expected to take up the responsibility of his own nuclear family. For these less illustrious and humble lot of families, however, jointness of the household remained and continues to remain an ideal worth emulating. Therefore, though brothers did not always share the household after marriage many of the families remained functionally joint. Parents continued to stay with either the elder or the younger brother. In rare cases, they rotated their stay from one brother to another from time to time. Some did not divide land. If they divided it, then they joined hands for labour requirements and management of the land. Marriages within the separated households of brothers were considered a shared responsibility. Death and ritual mourning and exchange of gifts especially with the affinal kin, were also seen as shared responsibilities. Family deities brought people together, where along with the entire lineage the unity of individual families was also emphasized. Thus the Agari lineage is multidimensional; customary, operationally pragmatic, as well as ritualistic. However, it is mainly through kinship ties and ritual functions, such as

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the worship of the deities, that the linkages between individual families as constituting a lineage are emphasized. The patrilineal descent group among Agaris is an important marker of one’s social identity within the community, region and village. This group is identified by its surname. It is referred to as kutumb/kula. Kutumba means family, but the term is also used to refer to the lineage, thus indicating that the lineage is an extension of family. Kula means lineage. 1 Both terms – kula and kutumb -are used interchangeably to refer to the lineage. One belongs to this group, either by birth or through marriage. The identity and descent of property and the family name is through the male line. This is an exogamous group. Marriage partners are sought outside this group. The unity of the lineage is maintained by the surname but not connected with it (there can be more than one lineage with the same name but their kula daivats are maintained separately). It has more to do with the kula daivat, the family deities. 2 The Agari lineage or kutumba thus has common family deities. These are called kula daivat/kutumbache dev and are put in a shrine which is called kutumbacha devhara. The conglomeration of kula daivat 3 includes Khandoba, Bahiri, 4 Vaghjai, Bapoji deo 5 and TulajaBhavani. 6 Every lineage has a set of metal representations of these deities. In Chirner, these deities are established in the devhara, abode of the god, and taken care of by one of the families within every lineage. The devhara, passes on to the descendants of the same family. These kula daivat are the presiding deities during the marriage rituals orother auspicious functions within the lineage. The rituals of dev basavane (to invite the gods) and dev uthavane (to send the gods off) mark respectively the beginning and the end of the marriage rituals. A lineage usually shares the neighbourhood. The vali/ali/galli (lane) denotes the neighbourhood and is usually dominated by a single lineage. However, more than one lineage may share a neighbourhood. Conversely, a lineage may be scattered over a single village or several villages close by or at a distance. Today with the spread of education it may extend into nearby towns and cities. The lineage, however, is not permanent. Whenever a lineage had expanded so much as to disrupt its smooth functioning, the elderly men considered the option of bifurcation. For instance, every marriage requires the presence of the family deities. Just before the marriage, the host family ceremoniously brings the devhara from the patron family and returns it once the marriage ends. In case more than one marriage occurs simultaneously, or when families

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have migrated, the procurement of the devhara becomes difficult. The rules of death pollution (sutak) would also interfere in the smooth running of the lineage when the lineage was too large. During the mourning period (it extends up to the twelfth or thirteenth day after death) lineage members cannot attend or conduct marriages. One cannot partake of any sacred rituals. Such practical difficulties may lead the elders within the lineage to bifurcate the lineage. The concerned elders of the lineage would pay a visit to main cult center of Khandoba in Jejuri, near Pune. There, the priests (maratha) 7 would ritually prepare two separate sets of family deities for the bifurcated lineages. At times, however, the division of a lineage was attributed to other factors. One of my informants from the Patil lineage explained the division thus Our original title was Gharat. My father was a police-patil and so we started calling ourselves Patil. Other members of the kutumba (lineage) remained Gharats. The family gods were also separated after this division….see the Thakur family. Since theirs was a large kutumba, there used to be problems in the performance of religious functions. There would always be a sutak (death pollution) of some or the other family member and thus they made a separate devhara.

8.3 Bride-givers and bride-takers: greater symmetry than asymmetry A defining characteristic of the patriarchal kinship structures of north India is the hierarchy between bride-givers and bride-takers (Madan 1998: 301-305). This asymmetry is conspicuous by its absence in the Agari marriage alliances. Marriage is an important rite of passage. The transition from unmarried life to married life is formalized through a ritual called athvar vaan. 8 Athvar (eight-yard) means unmarried. Nauvar (nine-yard) means married. The term is derived from the fact that in the earlier time, girls would take out palav (the extended loose end of the sari) after puberty. Before they used to wear the sari without a palav. Since long, the custom of wearing a sari without a palav before puberty has disappeared. Marriage marked a transition into an adult life and often coincided with puberty. The ritual signified this transition - ti ata athvarachi nauvar jhali – she’s now promoted to the status of nauvar from the status of athvar. Important is that the term athvar is also used for the men and the ritual is also the same for them.

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Marrying the daughter close-at-hand The tendency among the community was to seek marital alliances in the vicinity. In the past, brides came from the same pada, the same village or the neighbouring villages. Over the years, the marriage distances have increased. Yet, the natal home remains within an easy reach. This is strikingly different from the north Indian pattern where a girl is rarely married within the village. Close-at-hand marriages have several practical implications for social relations. In a marriage at a shorter distance, the newly married bride’s transition from her maher (natal home) to sasar (marital home) is not abrupt. In case of marital discord, she can seek refuge in her father’s house. Although she changes her residence, the new surroundings are not wholly alien. The village is not new to her, and often nor is the neighbourhood. She knows many people personally – either through acquaintanceship or kinship. And she will be able to continue the friendships from her childhood well into her adulthood. A new bride, who is thrown into a completely new social set up, will lack this social support and thus will be relatively isolated. The following description of the ritual of sati (performed on the fifth or sixth day after the birth of a child) throws some light on the social relations and interactions in close-at-hand marriages. In the evening, I attended the ritual of pachavi/sati...(pachavi: fifth) It is believed that the goddess sati/satvai visits and writes the fate of the child. Pachavi is generally held at the mother’s natal home and so it was to take place at Sushama Thakur’s (earlier Mhatre) natal house. Her natal family stays in the next lane (Mhatre ali) in the same pada. We went first to the Thakur’s, her husband’s home. Her mother-in-law and sister-in-law were to take the polas (special soft pan cakes made from rice flour for the occasion), other sweets and ingredients of oti (the ritual offerings to a married woman symbolizing a wish and blessing for her childbearing capacity. The ritual is called oti (lap) bharane (to fill)) in a basket. The basket was to be carried by the women of the Thakur lineage on their heads. The old women, on their way, invited other women for the pachavi. As we reached Sushama’s house we met her father who was going out. Another woman from the Thakur lineage joked with Sushama’s father ‘soyaryau, kaye chalalat, amala batlya pahijet pivala’ (‘Oh soyare (affine), where are you going? We want liquor bottles!’) [soyara is the term of address for the affinal relations – the parents, uncles and aunts of the soon (DIL) or javai (DH). Here, all Mhatres of Sushama’s parents’ generation and all Thakurs of Sushama’s husband’s parents’ generation would call each other soyare. There exists a joking relationship between the two] - … the grinding stone (pata) was already placed. The midwife (suin) was ready to perform the ritual. On the grinding stone rice, almonds, dried dates and five lamps made of rice flour were put….after the ritual Sushama was seated on the pat (the wooden plank used as

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a seat). She was offered puja and oti. The oti consisted of coconut, rice and a sari. The bhavjai (sisterin-law) from the natal family and the nanand (sister-in-law) from the marital family offer the first otis…my informants informed me that usually a meal is cooked and served to the guests, but since the marital house (sasar) is within walking distance the guests did not dine. If the guests have come from far, they are served a meal. All the guests were earnestly requested to dine but all left. They carried only the sweet that was distributed.

Sushama was the younger daughter-in-law in the family. Her jaau (elder daughter-inlaw – husband’s brother’s wife) was from a relatively distant village Vahal in Panvel taluka. Sushama’s was a love marriage. Later (months after she had returned from her natal family), Sushama fought with her mother-in-law and left the house with her mother, who openly supported her. She went to stay with her natal family, in the next lane. It was gossiped in the neighbourhood that she wanted a separate household. It was also discussed that her mother-inlaw was a difficult person. Her husband, earlier unwilling, later gave in to Sushama’s wishes. Towards the end of my fieldwork, she had moved out of the joint family with her husband. The immediate social support available to Sushama due to the proximity of her parent’s house, allowed her to renegotiate her relationship with her in-laws with relative ease.

Marrying the daughter among kin Cross-cousin marriages are not exceptional among the Agaris, although earlier they were more frequent. But cross-cousin marriages never involved the reciprocal exchange of wives, the way in which it happens in some south Indian non-Brahman castes (Kapadia 1995; Karve 1969: 181-182). 9 The prescribed form of cross-cousin marriage is between FZS and MBD. Matrilateral parallel cousin marriages (between MZS and MZD) are also sought. 10 Both types of cousin marriages ensure the movement of brides in one direction. A popular folk song voices the elation of a girl on receiving a marriage proposal from her paternal aunt atya/fui. atyane keli mala tar atya mala soon karanar atya (paternal aunt) has sent a telegram to me atya is going to take me as her daughter-in-law

Such marriages also reduced the trauma for a new bride. However, among upwardly mobile families, such close-kin marriages are not a favoured choice these days but they cannot always ignore the advantages that such matches confer on both the parties. Changubai’s daughter-in-law is a case in point. Changubai (55) was widowed in her thirties.

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Her natal village is not very far. She is better-off compared to her neighbours due to her son’s job and her hard work and enterprising nature. She is also more “sanskritized” compared to many of them. (She had explained to me once how a housewarming ritual performed by a Brahman in the presence of fire is essential. According to her, fire was sacred and an essential part of life-cycle rituals. When I pointed out that not all the marriages in the village had a ritual fire, she said, “the educated and civilized would perform the ritual. Others avoid, fearing the cost.”). This relative abundance in her family was not always there. She has raised her children with much hard work. Her son Vinod is a science graduate, has a permanent salaried job in the city and is settled there. He has married Changubai’s elder brother’s daughter Sudha. Sudha was brought up by Changubai’s younger brothers, since, after the early death of Sudha’s father, her mother remarried (this did not go down well with Changubai’s family. They hardly talk about her). Sudha, being the eldest, hardworking and soft-spoken, was a favourite among her cousins and uncles. These qualities of Sudha secured her aunt’s (who was a bit reluctant to marry among kin) goodwill for her and she was taken as a daughter-inlaw. Conventionally, also it was a good match because, Sudha’s guardian and Changubai’s younger brother is settled in a city and is quite well-off. Sudha has completed matriculation, which is also a bonus. Through Sudha, Changubai has reestablished her ties with her natal family. The maher of both Sudha and her mother-in-law is the same. Sudha being familiar with her atya’s (FZ) house and neighbourhood moves around with much more ease and freedom. Also, unlike other daugthers-in-law in the neighbourhood who are referred to as vahini (BW), she is called by her husband’s paternal cousins as tai (elder sister).

Marriage proposals from the groom’s family Piklya borivar dagad marane/alvat karane, was a common phrase earlier. It refers to the custom in which the proposal of marriage is forwarded by the parents of the bridegroom. Pikale bor (ripe berry) refers to the girl who has come of age. Dagad marane (hurling a pebble) or alvat karane (using a stick) refers to making a proposal. The informant who quoted this proverb said “Earlier anybody could hurl a pebble at any ripe berry. Nobody felt insulted if a poor boy approached a rich family with a proposal. Few would tolerate it today.” He thus indicated that in the good old days, differences in wealth were not restrictive.

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Normally, the bride’s side would never make a formal proposal to the groom’s family, considering it to be below dignity. Kapadia (1995: 53) has reported a similar pattern among the non-Brahmin Tamils of the village Aruloor. She attributes this custom to the high status that the women enjoyed among these communities, unlike the Brahman communities where the bride’s parents made the formal proposals. In Alibag taluka, some fifty years back, occasionally, marriage proposals might at times be forwarded indirectly from the bride’s side, but the duty of formally approaching the bride’s family rested with the groom’s side (Kale 1950). It was considered undignified, by the bride’s family to approach the groom’s family. As a result, at times it became difficult to find a suitable match for the bride. Folk songs allude to this custom in which the groom’s side was to take the first formal steps. Akashi vartala duniyat padala

What was decided in the heaven happened on the earth

Lekila Magana ala ho

The girl has received a proposal

Sanguni dhada tichiye ajyana

Send a message to her grandfather

Ajyache manasu yei ho

The grandfather should approve of the bridegroom

(Kale 1950: 375)

During my fieldwork, I heard from many this explanation of the dearth of proposals for young girls. This was cited as a cause for the delayed marriages and singlehood of women, one of the current concerns. I came across several girls in the surrounding villages who are referred to as ‘old maids’ in hushed voices. People accorded their single status to this custom – where a bridegroom’s party makes the formal proposal. Parents of the girl sought the help of mediators to forward her proposal for consideration but they never formally approached the groom’s family. The dhavalarins usually have a say in the matters of marriage as they are well-versed with the intricacies of the village life. One dhavalarin explained It is not possible these days for many girls to get marriage proposals (magani/sangun yene). Many girls remain unmarried because of that. The marriage proposal should come from a boy. [Pointing at one house she said] – See that house? The girl is from our kutumba (lineage). She is a teacher in a school. She is getting several marriage proposals. But girls who are not educated remain without proposals… [In another case] two daughters of Nirabai had crossed the marriageable ages and yet there was no sign of a marriage proposal. Finally, after many efforts the younger one got a suitable proposal. But after the match was fixed the groom had second thoughts, after he heard the reports of her age. I went and convinced the groom for the marriage…due to my role I got the supari 11 for that marriage.

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Apart from the girl’s education, her physical appearance, the status of the bride’s family, and their ability to give gifts are increasingly becoming criteria for consideration. Not getting marriage proposals also depended on the girl’s “reputation”. It was important for a girl to get married at an appropriate age, which varied from fifteen to twenty. Two or three extra years may not matter, but beyond that it poses difficulties.

Dej (bride-price), exchange of marriage gifts and the expenses of marriage Expenses of marriage The general understanding earlier was that the major part of the marriage expenses was to be borne by the groom. Today, these expenses are shared equally by both the parties. The marriage invariably takes place in the bride’s courtyard. A meal to the bride’s relatives and the groom’s party is served. The groom’s party returns with the bride and select relatives of the bride who accompany her. They are served a luncheon over there. There is reciprocity and equality in the marriages. Earlier the luncheon at the groom’s house used to be on grand scale causing substantial expenses for the groom’s parents. Generally the groom’s family took loans from the savkars (Kale 1950: 135). This was also due to the custom of dej (bride price). Kale (1950: 139) mentions that the caste councils for the tappas (a group of some ten, fifteen or at times more villages) in Alibag taluka had fixed the bride price irrespective of the status of the families of the bride and the bridegroom. For the Alibag taluka it was forty rupees and ten maunds of paddy (ibid: 142). In some remote cases, the bride’s father was made an extra payment called pan supari (betel leaves and nuts), hat dabani (hand massage) or kur lipani (painting/covering hut walls made of dried weeds, with muddy slurry). This was on various counts, such as the poverty of the bride’s father or the matured age of the groom. According to Kale, this was settled with the understanding that the bride’s father would be using this amount towards the expenses of the marriage. However, today, many of my informants boasted that the custom of dej has been long given up (I have discussed in Chapter Six how this was part of a conscious move for upward mobility).

Exchange of gifts Among the Agaris, from the betrothal till the end of the marriage, the gifts flowed in one direction - from the groom’s side to the bride’s side. Given the practices of dej, expenses of

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marriage, and exchange of gifts, it is not surprising that getting one’s son married was referred to as putache kar phedane, to repay the debts incurred from the son. In old-age, the son is expected to take up the responsibility of the parents. These services of the son are to be reciprocated. The son’s marriage therefore was considered a parent’s duty, which was not to be evaded. In the earlier section, I have described how the woman reasoned that, in the absence of the father, it was the brother’s responsibility. Only after he had performed the duty could they think of establishing separate households for each brother. The pattern of gift-giving continues even today. The bride ritually receives a sari and a basketful of gifts on the occasion of sakharpuda from the groom’s sister. At the marriage, she receives the final set of gifts, which include gold ornaments. Upon reaching the bride’s village, the bridegroom’s party halts at a distance from the bride’s house (called pasatani padane). The groom’s sisters pay a visit to the bride to offer her proper gifts. In the following song, the bride-to-be asks her mother ‘who has come outside the village?’ Her mother informs her that the groom has come to marry her. The bride then asks ‘what has he brought for me?’ Mother informs that it is the green bangles, (the auspicious sign of married status and fertility). Through each stanza the girl repeats the question and each time the mother replies with a different gift item. Gavachya baheri aai kai ge vajite saretinshe ghoryache leki paul vajite paul vajite aai kon raja yeito ………leki tula varaya yeito varaya yeito aai kai ge anito hatatla chura leki tula gheun yeito

what is the sound coming from outside the village, oh mother it is the sound of hooves of three hundred and fifty horses, oh daughter oh the sound of hooves of [horses], who is the king that has arrived oh mother so and so king of so and so village is coming to marry you oh daughter [the king is] coming to marry [me] what does he bring [for me] oh mother he brings the green bangles for you oh daughter

The groom receives his share of gifts from the bride’s father when he enters the mandav (marriage pandal). 12 This is the first and last gift that he will receive along with other sons-in-law of the father. Earlier the gifts used to include a dhoti (loin cloth), and occasionally some ornaments (Kale 1950: 158). These days the groom may receive a gold ornament (ring,

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chain) and money for the wedding suit. In the village there seems to be an increasing tendency among the affluent to receive gifts and prestation from the bride’s side. During my stay a boy from Chirner took a bride from Dhakati Jui village. There were discussions among the relatives that the groom had received such luxury items as a cupboard and refrigerator. The bride’s family had recently sold land and had acquired a large fortune. The bride and her sister were the only daughters. The groom was also promised a fair share in the family assets provided he treated the bride fairly. The gossip was also that the elder son-in-law of the family was known for his fair treatment to his wife due to this. Demands for dowry started in the early eighties, when new sources of income were available. Men sought women from families which had sold land and thus could offer a share in monetary assets and even a job, either immediately or in the near future. The scene has definitely changed. But such demands are not normalized and people do choose to decline to give in to these demands, either by refusing to pay or by refusing the proposal.

Widowhood During the 1940s, when the dej was in practice, the price was higher for a widow (Kale 1950: 187). If the daughter was widowed at a young age, her father used to bring her back to her own home. Interested men approached the widow through their friends and relatives. The widow’s consent was sought on such occasions. Once she had consented, talks for dej proceeded. The dej for a widow, unlike the dej in a normal marriage was not fixed and depended upon ‘her experience of agricultural pursuits, her knowledge of household management and her developed sense of judgment’ (ibid.). In some cases it used to rise as high as 300 rupees. In addition she could even claim a separate piece of land. This contrasted with the miserable fate of widows in the higher castes. This contrast and some recognition of it by the peasants are exemplified in the memories of Agari peasants of the older generation, who remember a Brahman widow in their village as “bodaki” (the “shaven-head”) or as “savkar”. By calling her bodaki they were referring to a Brahman widow’s shaven head. She, being a widow, had to perform the tonsure according to the Brahman customs of those times. However for the Agari men, and especially women, this was a matter of ridicule. Firstly, this was because, the Agari widows did not have either to shave their heads or to practice seclusion. Secondly, this was because, the widow was a savkar, the moneylender. The notion that a widow cannot remarry and therefore had to be desexualized

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did not exist among the Agari peasants. In fact widow remarriage was allowed in most Shudra castes (Chowdhry 1994). Yet the status of a remarried widow remained precarious in other aspects. The marriage ritual for the widow was different. It was called pat lavane and was performed in a temple in a brief ceremony. 13 A remarried widow, however, was not considered muhurtachi (auspicious), and was ineligible for such offices as that of a dhavalarin, the female marriage priest among Agaris. One dhavalarin, a widow, once mentioned to me My elder sister-in-law (husband’s brother’s wife) once told me- ‘You can sing the marriage songs. I cannot. I am not of muhurt. I am of pat (the ritual performed for the remarriage of the widow).’

There was no such restriction on unmarried widows. There were widows and deserted women in Chirner who were dhavalarins. But none of them had remarried. Widowhood per se was not seen as inauspicious, but a second marriage was clearly deemed inferior to primary one. The honour of carrying the shagun (auspicious lamp), 14 when the groom’s party departed for the bride’s village, is reserved for a widow. This is significant as this light is a symbol of an auspicious occasion/time. It is possible that the devaluation of the custom of widow remarriage was a gradual process. The Peshwas, the Brahman rulers of the Maratha Empire of Maharashtra, 15 during their rule in the eighteenth century had debarred their own caste members from remarrying widows and enjoined other castes to remarry their widows (Chakravarti 2000: 23-28). In fact when Pathare Prabhus, a landed non-Brahman high caste of the northern Konkan banned widow remarriage within their community, they were reprimanded and forced by the Peshwas to lift this ban on widow remarriage. The ban on widow remarriage was a prerogative of the high caste and marker of their high status which could not be shared by anyone else! Remarriage of the widowed, deserted or divorced women is not uncommon but lacks prestige and is the last choice for the helpless woman. The financial, social and marital constraints of the individuals concerned have a bearing on these marriage arrangements. The case of Mandabai is illustrative. This is a story of a very poor, landless family that reveals interesting nuances of widow remarriages amongst the Agaris. Posha, her present husband, is at least thirty years older than her and according to Manda is mentally retarded. They both earn a living through wage labour but her husband can perform only specific tasks which do not involve much mental skills. Her first husband died after their first child. He was a tandel

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(sailor) on a vessel. After his death she was married to Posha. For him it was the third marriage. ‘He patache lagna aahe (this is a pat (widow remarriage))’ she told me. She got married in 1995. Then Posha was single. Earlier wives had already deserted him. The second wife had children but they were being brought up by their maternal uncle. After Manda’s marriage the second wife returned to Posha with her children. She used to quarrel a lot with Manda. Finally she left but the children stayed back. According to Manda, her return to Posha was a premeditated plan to evade the responsibility of the children. Today, Manda almost single-handedly runs and manages the household.

Inheritance Landed property is inherited through the male line. In recent years with the increasing population, landholding per household has depleted considerably. This has caused family feuds and land disputes are a common feature. Daughters do not have an equal share in the family’s land. There were instances from earlier and present generations, when daughters received some land. But these were exceptions rather than the rule. If a girl was married into a family with little or no land, if she was the only child, if her parents were relatively better-off, then she could be given a share in the property. Some of my informants claimed that customarily a girl was given a share in the mango trees. The family owned trees would be divided equally among the married daughters and sons. Every year the married daughters would take the mangoes from their share of trees. The daughters in the previous generation had to bring personal items – such as comb, oil, sari, blouse – from their parents or brothers. A woman’s child was born at her natal family. At the birth, she would be given quilt, cradle, container boxes (harpa) were to be offered. These gifts depended upon the relative financial position of her husband’s family and its expectations. In the following folksong, the young bride is asking her brother to come and fetch her for a visit on the occasion of Holi. She is also complaining about her torn blouse (indicating that she needs one). The full version of this folksong appears later in this chapter.

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Ye bandhu neyala ra kancholi fatali ra

Come oh brother, to take me my blouse is torn

Kopara datali ra kancholi fatali ra

The sleeves have grown tight and the blouse is torn The sleeves have grown tight and have you turned

Kopara datali ra chaya keli ka ra

your back towards me Oh younger brother, have you turned your back

Pathichya bandhava ra chaya keli ka ra

towards me? Oh younger brother, have you turned your back

Pathichya bandhava ra chaya keli ka ra

towards me?

However, in Mothi Jui, my Karadi informants had different thoughts. In one of the visits to a paddy field where plantation was going on, a very lively conversation took place among the group of men and women. They were about fifteen men and women gathered to do the planting. All belonged to the same joint family (although divided into different households) of Patils. There were older men and women, their daughters-in-law and sons. As they were plucking the rice saplings from the fields and tying bunches, they were busy talking. On one occasion a young man commented about the daughters’ share in property. He spoke of how one of his female cousins had demanded a share in the land. His sister, he boasted, did not require a share in the land as she was married into a rich family. Bhimabai, an elderly woman whom I had accompanied into the field, reacted strongly. “Why? Aren’t the daughters the children of the parents? They also have an equal right in the property,” she retorted. Her husband also joined in and defended her. It is possible that when land becomes a highly valued commodity (which is a definite trend nowadays), the daughters may make a stronger claim to their father’s land, and the brothers may put up a stiff resistance. A poem written by an Agari poet unravels this aspect of the daughter’s share in the landed property. This poem is a comment on the scramble for land and money acquired through recent land transactions in western Uran. The second stanza of the poem is translated thus when mama asked his darling wife, ‘why do you disregard my sister let us give at least a small share (in the money received in the land transaction)’, mami sneered at him ‘This is my last warning, don’t repeat this ever again’ (Mhatre 2005).

Another poem opens like this – ‘Don’t forge my signature [oh brother], let me first ask my husband’ The sister pleaded to her brother for one plot (of land)

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In the last stanza she asks him – ‘what would you do with so many plots (of land), oh brother! (Mhatre, P. 2005)

Kunda’s case shows (described below) that offering a share to the daughter in the family land is conditional and marginal. It is not a share but assistance. On the other hand, even in her marital family her right to land remains precarious, especially if she is widowed or deserted. Kunda (45) leads a solitary life in a small hut in Teli pada. Her brother Pundalik stays in the neighboring pada. He is her paternal cousin, adopted by her parents from her paternal uncle. Kunda was the youngest of five sisters. All were married into different padas in Chirner village. They were all married quite early. Kunda was the only one to marry into another village, although not very far. Before her marriage (1978), she assisted her parents in the agricultural and household chores. Her brother was married, had a job and had to change his residence according to the job postings. He paid regular visits to the village, though. Twelve years after her marriage, Kunda left her husband and returned with her eight-year old daughter. Her husband was an alcoholic and abused her regularly. Her brother Pundalik gave her the house and a small piece of land (0.05 acre) out of his two acres. Through her husband, she also claims to own a share in their family land (0.2 acre). In the year 2000, she got her daughter married. Recently, her husband’s brothers sold their land (in the land acquisition drive for the Special Economic Zone (SEZ)). She, with her daughter’s husband’s assistance, pleaded with her brothers-in-law to hand over her share of rupees two lakh to her. She argued, her husband would squander all the money away. Her requests and repeated pleadings fell on deaf ears. Today she earns her living by growing paddy – six to seven mans (200-250 kgs) – per annum. She manages the labour requirement through parakel. This meager income is supplemented through agricultural labour in the agricultural season and during the summer through making and selling earthen hearths (chul). 16 Closely associated with this custom of giving a share to the daughter in land was the custom of a gharjavai (adopting a son-in-law as a family member in the bride’s natal home). In the 1970s and before, well-off families occasionally took gharjavais. That is, the married couple settled with the bride’s parents. Landed families who had brought up daughters in relative luxury, out of concern offered land and a house to their daughters. Sons-in-law were otherwise educated and from respectable families but did not hold much land. Uxorilocal residence of a married couple was more frequent earlier and was not looked down upon. Over the years though, the incidence of gharjavai has declined and is looked down upon. Today it

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is seen more as a compulsion on the part of the husband rather than a privilege enjoyed by the daughter. Usha’s (37) sasar (conjugal home) is in Govathane village. She and her husband Sunil were workers in Mumbai in a Pharmaceutical company. The company closed down and they lost their jobs. They settled in Usha’s natal village because they did not get along with her husband’s brothers. They have given their land in Govathane in sharecropping. Here, in Chirner, they have taken some land in sharecropping. This deal was profitable. Sunil, Usha’s husband explained how. “I have tin khandichi jamin (land which yields three khandis – approximately 20 quintals, one khandi is around 7 quintals. It comes to roughly an acre of land). I get ardhel (half the produce) over there (in Govathane). Here ardhel does not operate. One has to give only one-third to the landowner. This is because the rates of wage are high over there.” Usha’s two brothers are her neighbours over here. She, her husband and son stay in a small room in the rear of one of her brother’s house. She has not received any land from her brothers. Her mother is a dhavalarin and Usha also accompanies her. They both share the responsibilities of marriage rituals. Sunil works for daily wages on construction sites during the non-agricultural season.

The central role of the mama – MB The MB’s significant role in the Agari kinship system is illustrated through various songs, stories and rituals of marriage. During the marriage, the mama (MB) and mami (MBW) come to play an important role, next to the mother who is respectfully referred to as varmai, mother of the bride/bridegroom. The father’s role is minimal. The bride and the bridegroom receive ritually significant gifts from their respective mamas. The bridal sari and groom’s suit is the mama’s gift. He also gifts a sari to his sister, the bride/bridegroom’s mother. The rituals involving the mama have a humorous aspect to them. In Alibag taluka, the mama and nephew/niece exchange gifts and tea. In some parts of Pen taluka, the ritual involving the mama is called mama mutala (mama has urinated, humorously hinting that he was so hassled). In Chirner and around, the ritual is called mama basala (mama collapsed), or kakan bandhane (tying a bracelet). During the ritual the MB, the mother and the bride/bridegroom are teased and laughed at. The bride/bridegroom is made to sit on the MB’s lap at the end. The MB receives a gift (coconut and jaggery, occasionally a shirt piece and towel) from his

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sister (the bride/groom’s mother). In return, the bride and groom receive a ritual thread, referred to as sonyache kakan (gold bracelet). An elaborate sermon of this ritual indicates its importance. The MB’s efforts in providing the gifts for his niece and nephew are described in it. For this ritual a pat (wooden plank) is required. The song relates that MB woke up at the daybreak, got dressed, took the lunch box prepared by his wife (MBW - mami), went to the jungles, found a sandal tree, cut it and took it to the carpenter. The carpenter made the plank and then the MB took it to the painter. The painter coloured the plank. Then the MB bought some silk and went to his sister’s place. From there the MB again departed in search of the kakan (the ritual golden bracelet). The song in Kale’s thesis (1950: 383) for this ritual is as follows Bandh bandh go varmaye dahibhatachi shidori mama jati duri kai kakana molu Hindata firata ale kai chaula sharala titha nahi kakanacha upadesu Bandh bandh go varmaye dahibhatachi shidori mama jati duri kai kakana molu Hindata firata ale kai dhakode sharala titha nahi kakanacha upadesu Sonyachya ankadya fofalichya fofal mamani vohiyela Tambulya chicheshi fofalicha fofal mamani vohiyela Sonyacha umtara mamani tasila hatha basa bhachiya kakan bandhu

Oh mother of the bride, make the meal of curd and rice; mama is going to the far away land to get the golden bracelet As he roamed about [in the search of bracelet] he came to the town of Chaul there he did not find the golden bracelet Oh mother of the bride, make the meal of curd and rice mama is going to the far away land to get the golden bracelet As he roamed about [in the search of bracelet] he came to the town of Dhakode there he did not find the golden bracelet Mama made the golden string, sit here oh dear nephew [let me] tie the bracelet.

Mama and his niece/nephew share a close tie, akin to the relation between parents and their children. The following song describes it. This is a song from Chirner and its vicinity, sung towards the end of the ritual of mama basala. mamani bhachi ghetili mande usache kande varavili gorache bele varavili mama bhachi bhetu jati mamani bhachi ghetili mande…..

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mama has taken (his) niece in (his) lap she was brought up (by him) as one nurtures a sugarcane stem mama and niece meet each other mama has taken …………

The niece/nephew’s sitting in the mama’s lap is symbolic. When the age of marriage was lower, this would have seemed less awkward. It is the MB who carried the bride and groom to the bohala, the altar. These days with the increased age of marriage, this is not possible. In short, the marriage of one’s niece and nephew is considered to be the responsibility of the MB. The mama’s responsibility towards his sister and her children is expressed not only in rituals but also in the actual relationships. A poor sister’s claims on her brother’s resources are also a part of this sense of duty that the mama has towards his nieces and nephews. Ratnakar, a middle aged man, earns his livelihood mainly through tailoring, agriculture and a small-scale business of flower garlands (run by his two married sisters). His father Damodar, originally from Mothe Bhom, had left for Mumbai in 1960s, he was then in his early twenties. He and Ratnakar’s mother Subhadra got married in 1964 and were settled in Mumbai. Subhadra is from Dhakate Bhom and her natal family owns land over there. Her brother offered Damodar the opportunity to settle in Dhakate Bhom (Subhadra’s natal village), take up his land in sharecropping and the house for residence. Damodar had five children, three sons and two daughters, the eldest being Ratnakar. So Damodar returned to Dhakate Bhom (his wife’s village) in 1975. Subhadra managed the cultivation of her brother’s land (3 acres). In addition, Damodar opened a panpatti (betel shop) and also started a mataka (gambling) business. In 1979, Damodar suffered a paralytic attack and his business was closed down by 1983. Since then they started a small business of making and selling flower garlands. Ratnakar’s two sisters were married but both were deserted by their husbands and returned to their natal family. Currently, Ratnakar runs the tailoring shop. His mother looks after agriculture. His wife and sisters also contribute and also perform for wage labour. The sisters also run the flower garlands business. Although Ratnakar’s mother cultivates her brother’s land, she does not own it and has to give a nominal share to her brother. “My mama has been kind to us,” as Ratnakar told me, but then they are a needy family. A similar pattern of affection between the mama and his nephew’s/nieces continues in the present generation. His two sisters could seek refuge at their natal home, when there was a marital discord,

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although they have to contribute to the household income through wage labour and selling flower garlands.

8.4 Sasar (conjugal home)/maher (natal home): the duality of a woman’s identity I have argued that an individual’s identity within the community is derived from his/her patrilineage and also from the neighbourhood, pada, village, a group of villages and region. Although there is more symmetry than asymmetry between bride-givers and bride-takers, there is a clear distinction between a bride’s natal and affinal family. Her attachment to the affinal family is emphasized. That is her home. Yet the detachment from the natal home is not absolute and abrupt. With a new acquaintance, the first question generally asked is “tuzha gav koncha?” – “which is your village?” A man replies with the name of the native village. Even if he has settled somewhere else, his social identity is closely linked with the native village where his ancestral house, land and patrilineage are. A married woman would often give two answers to the same question. For instance “majha maher hai taki pun mana dili vahalala”- “my natal village is in Taki but I am married in Vahal village.” A common question often asked upon the news of a marriage being fixed is “konachekare dili tila?” Or “kahya dili?” Literally meaning “Where is the girl given?” Or the girl may be directly asked “Bai, tula kahye dili” – “Sweetie, where are you being married?” or the groom’s side may be asked ‘navari kanchi hai?” which means “Where is the bride from?” The Marathi verb dili (literally [she is] given) is used to denote the giving away of a girl in marriage. To this question at first one is expected to reply with the name of the village. Usually people have some kinship connection, know the location and some social and cultural specificity of every village of at least three to four talukas, namely Pen, Alibag, Uran and Panvel. If the village is unknown, one may have to give the location and other information. Villages are thus important markers of identity, for all and especially for married women. The girls married out of the village are remembered in terms of their affinal villages, and the girls who are married into the village from outside are also remembered in terms of their natal village. In particular, if the girl is from a distant village, her village of origin is vividly remembered. This may be because there are very few marriages with distant villages. In any case, the village of origin is an important marker of identity for a woman even after marriage.

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Where the natal village and marital village of the newly married bride are not the same, the name of the village is an essential piece of information sought rigorously by men and women to keep track of their kinship, neighbourhood and village networks. The affinal village of a girl indicates some features of her new social and cultural setting and it has a bearing on the social prestige of the bride’s family. It is an indicator of her identity and the social and economic status, which she assumes upon her marriage. The demarcation between natal home/family/village and marital home/family/village is clear even if the girl is in the same village and in the same neighbourhood. This however does not mean that the woman’s movement between the two is restricted. Karve (1969: 183191) mentions that sasar/maher are common terms all over Maharashtra similar to the sasural/naihar of north India. Despite the patrilineal and patrilocal families the customs are different from the customs of north India. For instance, the gauna 17 ceremony, where bride comes back after the marriage ceremony and lives with them is not found in Maharashtra. After the gauna the bride is sent away and her visits to natal home are limited. But in Maharashtra it is customary for the girl to come and stay with her parents frequently. At least initially, as I observed in Chirner, the newly wedded bride’s link to her natal family is mainly through her brother. A young bride’s visits to her natal family are ceremonious and take place on special occasions such as Holi, Diwali, Ganapati, or at jatras (fairs). On such occasions, it is the brother, usually the younger one, who fetches and escorts her back. This ritual escort is called moolu jane/mulari jane in the Agari dialect. The Marathi word mool means root/origin. It thus indicates her return, although for a brief period, to her origins. Mulari may thus mean ‘the one who goes for moolu’, i.e. the younger brother. The word Mulari and the custom of moolu jane have another significant cultural reference. The festival of Holi is celberated on the pournima (full moon day) of Falgun (last month of the lunar calendar). The rituals associated with this festival gives important information regarding a woman’s relation with her natal home. During Holi, a bonfire is lit on the day of pournima. A tree of savar (Silk cotton tree, Bombax malabarica or Bombax ceiba) is ceremoniously brought from the jungle and raised in a ground. Its bark is removed to uncover its white trunk. With branches decreasing in size towards the top, the tree displays a conical shape. This tree represents the goddess Heulu-bai, a word which is phonetically close to the sanskritized word Holi. Peculiarly, two bonfires are lit on this occasion, and not one. (elsewhere in Maharashtra only one bonfire is lit) The smaller one is called Heul-khut or

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Mulari. It symbolizes goddess Heulubai’s younger brother. It is believed that Heulubai is a sasarkarin, 18 a married woman. She is on a visit to her natal family (maher) on the occasion of Holi/Shimaga. She returns to her conjugal family after Holi. Her younger brother goes to fetch her. He is called Mulari, thus the phrase Mulari jane/moolu jane. From ten days prior to Holi pournima, everyday, a small Heul khut/Mulari is raised in an open space or a field and then lit, usually by bands of kids - boys and girls. Mulari is on his way to meet Heul. It is only on the final day that the large Heul is raised and lit along with the smaller Mulari. A daughter who goes visiting her natal family (maher) is called mahervashin. 19 In the song quoted below and in many such songs the young woman who is longing to go to her natal home is referred to as Heulubai. Often the distinction between the two merges and it is not very clear as to whether it is a young married woman who is longing for her natal home or it is the goddess Heulubai herself. The idea of Heulubai as a mahervashin does not go very well with the fact that on the full moon day the goddess Heulubai is lit. Although burning of Holi is a widespread custom in Maharashtra, the cultural explanation of a mahervashin and her younger brother was new. The burning of the tree representing Heulubai was explained by the women through the legend of sati. Sati had leapt into the yadnya, the sacrificial fire lit at her natal home, the kingdom King Daksha. Sati immolated herself because she felt humiliated by the treatment she received at her natal home, on account of her poor and ascetic husband, lord Shiva. I was told that Heul is this Sati. She was reborn as Parvati, Shiva’s consort. 20 The myth of Sati explained the ritual bonfire of the goddess, but it did not explain the ritual burning of her brother. The songs sung on the occasion of Holi are replete with images and metaphors which describe the longing of the married women for a visit to the natal family and her long wait for her brother, who is to come to fetch her. Hauluibai goriye ga thorache ga Heulubai Goriye payicha dhulavara ga Uratu je niliye ga payicha dhulavara ga Uratu je Vatanu jatiya ra

Vatsaru dada ka ra yeura niropa ra Sang mazhe maheri shimgyache sanala ra Ye bandhu neyala ra shimgyachya sanala ra

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Ye bandhu neyala ra kancholi fatali ra Kopara datali ra kancholi fatali ra Kopara datali ra chaya keli ka ra Pathichya bandhava ra chaya keli ka ra Pathichya bandhava ra chaya keli ka ra

Tuzhe bai mahericha ghar kasa gavalu ga? Tujhe bai mahericha ga Kachobandi angana ra tulasi birdavna ra Taya mazha hai ka ra maheru gharu ka ra

Vastara narati ra nirmale bhoomi kar vastara naratir nirmale bhoomi kar

(An observer perhaps a friend says) Oh, Heuluabai, the fair daughter from a respectable family. Oh, Heulubai, the fair one, the dust of one’s feet The blue coloured dust of the feet is rising It is rising because some one is passing by

(The lady says) Oh brother traveler, this short message Please pass it to my natal home, on the occasion of shimaga Oh, my brother, please come to fetch me on the occasion of shimaga

(The lady says) Come oh brother, to take me my blouse is torn The sleeves have grown tight and the blouse is torn The sleeves have grown tight and have you turned your back towards me Oh younger brother, have you turned your back towards me? Oh younger brother, have you turned your back towards me?

(The traveler says) How do I find your natal house oh, lady? How do I find your natal house oh, lady?

(The lady says) a tiled courtyard and a tulasi vrindavan There you will find my natal house

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In the following song, all the married girl friends have come for a visit to their respective natal families except for one friend, Heulubai. Her dear friend longs for her in this song and explains that as Heulubai’s baby is crying she could not come. She requests her family to send green bangles for her and a fine horse to fetch her. 21 Tepriva ghara ughari dara Titha majhya sarya sangatani Ek sangatin Heulubai Sagale ale pun Heulubai nai ali Tichach go balu larata Tila dhara ga tetvari ghora Tiche bhara ga kothumbari chura

Houses on the hillock with doors wide open There are all of my (girl) friends One friend is Heulubai All have come except Heulubai Her child is crying Send a fine horse for her Fill her hands with dark green bangles

From the myth of Sati, Heulubai can be identified with Parvati, since Sati was later born as Parvati. But Heulubai is Parvati in one sense and she is not in another sense. The folk deity Gaur represents Parvati. Heulubai and Gaur, two deities are both sasarkaranis. They come to their natal home for a brief visit. Heulubai comes in the month of Falgun that is towards the end of the Hindu lunar calendar; and Gaur comes in the sixth month of the Hindu lunar calendar, that is in Bhadrapad. This is also the month of the Ganapati festival. 22 Gaur is the mother of Ganapati/Ganesh. Women told me that Heul comes in Falgun. When she starts her return journey after the Holi festival, Gaur starts walking from her sasar (conjugal home). Gaur reaches in the month of Bhadrapad. When she starts her return journey after Ganesh Chaturthi, Heul starts walking. And so the cycle goes on. Their visits are eagerly awaited. Although the demarcation between sasar and maher is clear, in practice there is much more fluidity and flexibility (this reiterates Karve’s observation about the duality of Maharashtrian kinship organization where it has elements from both north and south which contradict each other). As it has been discussed earlier, many marriages were and still are arranged within the same village. Women visited their parents on a regular basis and vice

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versa. Young brides sought the assistance of their mothers and their family in case of domestic quarrels in their conjugal home and in agricultural work. At the same time, the ideal of demarcation was cherished wholeheartedly. The affinal home was seen as the place where a woman’s identity lay and she was tied to it by the demands of responsibility. As mentioned earlier the link between her and her natal family would be seen mainly through her brother. This is reiterated symbolically in marriage rituals. When the groom enters the mandav (marriage tent) in front of the bride’s house, the bride’s younger brother pulls his ear, though jokingly. Thereby, he warns his brother-in-law not to ill-treat his sister. Similarly, when the groom returns to his house with his bride, his sister mockingly refuses them entry as she stands in the way of the couple. She demands a promise from the brother to give his daughter in marriage to her son. The new couple is allowed entrance only when they consent. This connection with the natal family through a brother thus continues throughout a woman’s married life till her children are old enough to be married. And in their marriage, as has already been described, her brother plays an important role.

8.5 Conclusion Similar to the Maharashtrian pattern, Agari lineage is patrilocal and patrilineal where the demarcation between bride-givers and bride-takers - sasar and maher of the girl - is clear. Yet in practice, there is a relative absence of hierarchy. The movement of the bride between sasar and maher is ceremonious initially, with her brother’s escort, but later on may not be so restricted and the shortness of distance between the sasar and maher allows her free movement. This is facilitated by the fact that she is married within the village, or among close relations. Here relation with her natal family is maintained through her brother and is carried on well into adulthood and is emphasized in the marriages of her children where MB has a role to play. MB’s daughter also may be claimed by her to her son. The cross-cousin marriage which gives a preference to the MBD and FZS, is hypergamous theoretically, but in practice may not always indicate the hierarchy between the two lineages. The expenses of marriage were earlier more of a burden for the bridegroom due to dej and other gifts. The gharjavai (daughter’s husband staying with her parents) was a custom more prevalent among the affluent. Often in such cases the girls were given some share in the land. The widowed, divorcee and deserted women do remarry. Widowhood per se is not considered inauspicious which is clear from the fact that very often they are dhavalarins, the

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marriage priests. However, in practice we can see that the patterns are shifting. Dej as a practice has been largely given up and dowry is making inroads, but still is not the norm. The expenses of marriage are still shared equally and the bride still receives the ritual gifts from the husband’s side. The custom of gharjavai and the remarriage of widowed, divorced and deserted women are customs which lack prestige and are considered more of compulsions. The earlier practices, where daughters lay a claim on their parent’s or brother’s resources are not an established practice but still hold some ground, especially if the daughter or the sister is in need. The kinship and family organization among Agaris is in many ways similar to the kinship patterns of Maharashtra. Therefore it is not surprising that as a discourse and in terms of ideals it resembles in certain aspects the north Indian pattern. However, in practice it shares a lot with the south Indian patterns. But again, it also differs from it in significant aspects. However, as a part of the northern Konkan region, the Agaris display some peculiarities with other communities in this region. These peculiarities highlight their distinctness from the rest of Maharashtra. For instance, the office of dhavalarin, the female priest, and her marriage sermons, is a common feature of some castes in this region – Kolis, Karadis. With these castes they share certain features of attire, language, cuisine and many aspects of the way of life. They also share many features of the kinship organization. But the association of Agaris with the Kharland, a politically constructed strong peasant identity, and the expressions of the kinship organization (which are otherwise shared with others) associated with rich cultural interpretations through numerous folksongs (for instance the Heul and Mulari) together create a distinct cultural complex. I had argued in the conclusion of the earlier chapter that the worldview of the community, which is reflected through their labour practices, is echoed in their kinship and family organization and marital practices. In this chapter we saw how close-distance marriages, more symmetry between the bride-givers and bride-takers, the practice of dej, widow remarriage, the right of women to get a divorce and remarry display cultural notions in which the productive capacity of the women is valued. Thus it was possible for a woman to lay some claim, not as a right but as a customary practice, on her parents’ property. Her continuing association with her natal family through her brother is the channel for such claims. But again, the ethnographic description shows that the patterns of labour practices, the

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kinship and family organization, the marriage practices and the distribution of resources are shifting gradually due to the larger socio-economic changes happening in the region. The understanding of the agency of the Agari community will remain incomplete without an understanding of their worldview which has been shaped by their day to day interactions with the social, economic and material conditions. As argued earlier, the worldview of the community can be distilled only through an ethnographic inquiry of their everyday practices and community life, as the community has traditionally lacked the means to articulate, and codify it. The discussion in Chapter Seven and Chapter Eight are important links to understand the peasants and their responses to the material and social conditions.

1

Kula also means tenant, since tenancy was traced though descent. The Abolition of Tenancy Act in Marathi is

called kula kayada. 2

Yuko Nishimura (1998: 77-78), in her study of Nagarattar women states that in South India, among the non-

Brahmans, one cannot marry someone who belongs to the same kula deivam group. This is different from the Brahman practice where one has to marry outside one’s own gotra whether or not they share the same kula deivam. Karve (1969: 176) mentions that among the Kunabis in Maharashtra the devaka is the clan symbol and not so much the clan-name. 3

The festival of Navratri which ends on the tenth day of Dasara is centered on Khandoba and the remaining

assembly of the family deities. It is believed that on the first day of the Navaratri the kuladev ‘become inactive’ (dev basatat i.e. Gods sit down). For all nine days deities remain ‘withdrawn from minding their usual activity’ as if they were chained (dev bandhalele asatat) during these days. Therefore, it is said that they would not come to the rescue or help of their devotees even if such a need arises. On the tenth day, which is Dasara, the deities rise from the state of inaction (dev uthatat). They are no more chained. Dasara is celebrated in their honour. They are offered sweets and coconuts. The members of the kin group have to pay compulsory visits during the nine days and also on the day of Dasara to offer the naivedya (sacred offering). People residing at distant places return to the village of their kuladev, to make these offerings. On the first day different types of sprouted pulses (as many as eighteen types) are sown in an earthen pot. During the nine days these grow into small plants. A single plant is called davana and is offered along with the prasad (sacred remains of the food offered to the deity) to the visiting family members. 4

A temple of Bhairoba, one of the deities from Khandoba’s assembly of family deities is situated near the

Ganapati temple. The tradition of offering a sacrifice to him was an honour reserved for the members of the potter caste but seems to have lost its significance. As per the age-old customs, this temple was the center of all religious activities of the village. However, these days (due to Brahmanization) the temple of Ganapati has gained prominence. 5

Bapdeo, another god from among the assembly of family deities, has a shrine on the outskirts of almost all the

villages in the vicinity. The yearly jatra (fair) held in Chaitra (the first month of Hindu lunar calendar) is in honour of the village goddess Mariaai and god Bapdeo. Bapdeo is also seen as a guardian of the village, paddy

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fields, and the distressed. The villagers are replete with stories in which they were saved by the grace of this deity. They believe that the paddy fields near the temple of Bapdeo are his responsibility. He is annoyed if anybody doubts his powers and takes to guarding the field. He is believed to punish not only the thieves but also those who lack faith in the god’s powers to guard the crop. 6

It is believed that Tulaja Bhavani, another goddess from the assembly of the family deities pays an annual visit

on the day of Sankranti (14th January). Her visit has in store either a curse or a blessing. Special devotees of the goddess called Kadaklakshmi/Bhavanivala/Jarimari pay an annual visit just ahead of the Sankranti. This special devotee dresses himself like a woman. He represents the goddess and roams from village to village with his family. In the village he performs a special ritual. In it he gives the prediction of the goddess for the village, about epidemics, crops or the monsoon. 7

In Jejuri the priests who perform the ritual are Marathas by caste and not Brahmans.

8

In the ritual athvar vana fedane – eight sets of ghari (rice cakes), pheni (papad made of rice) and pola (special

soft rice pan cake) are distributed among eight women of the bride/bridegroom’s lineage. 9

Karve (1969: 181-182) argues that the marriage between the MBZ and FZD or between MB and ZD are not

common in Maharashtra. In southern Maharashtra, when these cross-cousin marriages were sometimes performed sometimes, it required some expiatory rite at the time of marriage. 10

Karve (1969: 177) mentions that in Maharashtra there is a taboo on the both paternal and maternal cross-

cousin marriage. However, this practice was and is even today common among the Agaris. The observation of Karve does not take into account this community and is perhaps is an illustration of the community’s relative invisibility. 11

The dhavalarins are formally appointed for the marriages in advance. This process of engaging the dhavalarin

is called supari dene (this idiom is used for formalizing the contract by an auspicious ritual of “offering a betel nut”) or bayana dene (“to give one’s word”). 12

The courtyard in front of bride’s and bridegroom’s house is covered and decorated for the marriage rituals.

This is called mandav. A frame of bamboos is raised and covered with hay. These days it is covered with a cloth. This is an auspicious space, as is indicated by the ritual of mandavthapani, which translates as ‘establishing the mandav’. 13

One of my informants mentioned that it was performed near the umbar (Ficus racemosa or Ficus glomerata)

tree. This tree has a prominent presence even in a primary marriage. One of the final marriage sermons describes the groom and bride taking rounds of the umbar tree. 14

This special lamp is ceremonially made from steamed rice flour and elaborately decorated with colours and

rice grains. 15

In Chapter Four I have mentioned that the Peshwas, the rulers of Maratha Empire came from the Chitpavan

Brahman caste and through them status and power coincided, which made it easy for them to reinforce Brahmanical dominance (Chakravarti 2000). 16

In Chirner many women made small portable hearths and earned a living through selling them.

17

In a marriage which takes place before puberty, the bride goes back to her natal home. She visits her marital

home on occasions but returns to her home. After the ritual of gauna is performed she is sent to her marital home and after that her visits to natal home are limited and brief.

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18

A married woman is commonly referred to as sasarkarin/sasarvashin as sasar is the conjugal home.

19

Mahervashin is by definition a temporary state. During a married woman’s visit to her parents’ home she is

referred to as mahervashin. 20

Shiva is an ascetic god known for his divine power, temper and also naivety. He is also known as the god of

destruction. Sati, the daughter of king Daksha fell in love with him and married him against the wishes of her parents. One day she heard the news of a yadnya (sacred fire) arranged by her father. Although she was not invited she longed to meet her parents and sisters. Despite repeated warnings from Shiva she insisted on paying a visit. At her father’s home she was insulted and ridiculed by her sisters and her father who had not yet forgiven her for her defiance. Unable to bear the insult she jumped into fire. Shiva was bereaved upon her death, and carried her corpse on his shoulders inconsolable in grief. As he walked, limbs from Sati’s body fell one by one. At each of these places where one of her limbs fell, according to the legend, there is a holy shrine of Shiva. Sati was reborn as Parvati and longed for Shiva. She undertook a tapa (prayer) to please him. After severe endurance Shiva was pleased and accepted her as his wife. 21

Hirava chuda or green bangles are the auspicious symbols representing a woman’s married status. The

composer has used the word kothumbari which is derived from the Marathi word for the green coriander leaves, kothimbir. 22

The Ganapati festival also known as Ganesh Chaturthi falls in the Hindu month of Bhadrapad.

Ganapati/Ganesh is the elephant headed god, the son of Shiva and Parvati.

Chapter Nine Conclusions The study does not present a mere passive account of the Agaris. The way in which the community has emerged historically has been conceptualized in the interplay between ‘structure’ and ‘agency’. However, here were two entry points into this historical narrative of the Agari community. One option was to locate it within the subfield of caste studies. The other option was to locate it within the subfield of peasant studies. The Agaris being a caste community depending upon subsistence paddy cultivation, either of these entry points was available. Although the emphasis, and intentionally so, remains on the ‘caste’ aspect, there is a lot of reliance on the concept of peasant and the insights which the vibrant field of peasant studies brings in. The reason for making this choice was the objective behind this study which was to understand the marginalization of the Agaris. The basic premise is that this marginalization was facilitated by caste system’s exploitative character. At the very outset (in Chapter One) I have brought in the issue of backwardness of the Agari community and their usurpation from their land and livelihood in the city of Mumbai. The colonial policies of land acquisition and urban development were the immediate causes responsible for this uprooting of the community. However, the alienation of the community had a longer history and it continued even after Independence thus calling

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for a deeper sociological analysis of the process. I have argued that the need to understand the social aspect of the process is reiterated through the modes of articulation and mobilization employed by the community. The community’s demand for a ‘backward’ status and associated concessions is a case in point. The sociological analysis thus in this work has been mainly concerned with the caste relations. The caste system is viewed as a system of exploitation. This way of looking at the caste relations borrows much from such radical thinkers as Phule, Ambedkar, Periyar and Lohia. However, the sociological debates on caste have remained oblivious to the ‘exploitative’ character of the caste system. The Orientalist critics, who have otherwise questioned the ahistorical essentialisation of India by equating India with caste, have failed to take note of the questions of power. They have gone to the extent of calling caste an ‘invention’ of the colonial rule. The Dumontian paradigm’s centrality to the debates on caste continues despite the criticisms that are leveled against it where it emphasizes the structural hierarchy of the system. However, Dumont refuses to see the process of dehumanization inherent in such an arrangement. The debates in America on race and caste, and the writings of Mencher (1974), and Berreman ([1971] 2005) remain the exceptions rather than the rule. They highlight the dehumanizing character of the caste system. Most of the scholars have overlooked this essential character of caste also because they have not paid heed to what Indians have to say about the caste system. Caste very much exists in the private and public lives of people although there is a studied silence about it. I have argued that this silence is nothing but a ‘cultural censorship’, which privileges the upper castes. However, some Indian scholars have been vocal about caste. Not surprisingly they were and are from the lower castes. These voices have so far received marginal attention within the sociological knowledge making processes. I have examined the works of Ambedkar, Phule, Lohia and Periyar, and argue that, for them, the system of caste has a long history and that it is not a colonial invention. The ‘hierarchy’ is not an abstract and neutral ordering principle of the Indian society. It has dehumanized people – economically, socially and psychologically. In this system the Brahman and the higher castes are the exploiters. The answer to these evils of Indian society, according to them, is the radical transformation of the prevalent social structure. In recent years however, there are growing number of social scientists who are offering such a critique (Deliége 1992; Chakravarti 1993, 2003; Guru 2001; Rege 2003).

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However, the focus of the majority of the studies has remained on the Dalit or the ‘untouchable’ communities. The non-untouchable lower-castes of the Shudra varna are also backward and marginalized but a sociological and anthropological investigation of these groups is still lacking. Such an investigation is offered in this thesis. On the other hand, as the research for this work went on I realized that the Agaris exemplify an unmistakable peasant character. Peasant Studies has been a bourgeoning field. It has offered some very interesting insights. These insights were useful in understanding the material conditions and its influence on the agency of the community in resisting the feudal structure and the state. However, in India, the field of peasant studies has necessarily had to address the issue of caste inequality. The present work brings out this exploitative character of the caste system in its localized form in the northern part of Raigad and with a special emphasis on the Agaris. It does do so by bringing caste analysis into the category of peasant. The emergence of the caste society in the region where the Agaris are in majority shows that the boundaries of various Shudra castes were porous and the presence of the Brahmans was not very prominent. However, over a long period, the domination of Brahmans consolidated. For one, Brahmans dominated over Maharashtrian society and constituted also the largest sections of the money-lenders, traders, intelligentsia and bureaucracy. The Agaris had among them some wealthy sections with a greater hold over land and other resources. But for the most part, they were small or medium peasants who felt severely the burdens of tenancy and possible alienation of land. The Agari rebellions which took place during the British period were directed against the class of rentiers and moneylenders, predominantly Brahmans, Muslims and Marwaris. There was a caste character to the peasant rebellions in which they fought against the patterns of exploitation. It was caste leaders who led the strike of Agaris against the exploitation of peasants by the rentiers and moneylenders in the preindependence period. Caste sanctions were used in some cases against those who defeated form the struggles. The struggle against caste hierarchy is shown to have a strong basis in material and political inequalities. It is against these inequalities that and exploitation at the hands of upper caste landlords that the Agari peasantry revolted. Since I look at the caste system as a system of unequal social arrangements but one which is constituted and not a given, the ‘agency’ of the Agari peasants becomes important. That is, the marginalization of Agaris is seen as a process. Therefore I lend a historical analysis to it. This means that one has to situate the social reality within socio-economic and

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political contexts. This also means that one has to look at the ‘actors’, and their ‘agency’ and ‘practice’. From the point of view of the discipline of history, the history of the marginalized has always remained obscure mainly because they lack the means and power to articulate it. Thompson (1963), Hobsbawm (1997) and the Subaltern Studies school have sought to bring in the voices from below which have been hitherto unrepresented. Ethnography remains an important means to retrieve these voices. But sociological and ethnographic practice is grounded in the present and has been criticized for its timeless, static renderings of ‘communities’. Thus a deliberate effort is required to integrate history into the ethnographic practice. However, being rooted in the present is essential because it allows one to ask some specific questions about the past, from the actor’s point of view. Bourdieu’s ‘theory of practice’, Comaroff’s concept of ‘consciousness’ and Connell’s stress on ‘historicity’ help us to go beyond the mere structural categories of social realities, and grasp the meaning of social complexity that emerges historically as an interplay of structure and agency. As mentioned above such a historical analysis means that it is necessary to understand how structures are constituted and how they constitute the actions of the actors. Ecology and the political economy of the region together constitute the immediate contexts both of the ethnography and the historical process. One can see here the evolution of a caste society which more or less coincided with the agrarian class structure. But the historical analysis also means that it is important to understand how the actors and their actions constitute the structures. Chapter Five, Six, Seven and Eight are in fact attempts to integrate the ‘agency’. In Chapter Five it has been done through the concept of peasant as it used within the ‘moral economy’ framework. The political mobilizations and rebellions in the pre-Independence and post-Independence period offer us a glimpse of the agency of the Agari peasants. The agency however remains generalized rather than particular in this chapter. In the next chapter which is Chapter Six we moved towards a more particularistic analysis of the agency, where individual actors, lineages and their actions are analyzed within the context of class relations, kinship and political networks. Bourdieu’s differentiation between strategies and rules, ordinary and extraordinary, practical and official kin provide important leads. Bourdieu’s influence remains in Chapter Seven which documents the subjective experience of labour and its shifting patterns and also in Chapter Eight which keeps its focus on the marriage relations and distribution of resources along gender lines with an eye for the discrepancies between the official discourse and practices and their shifting patterns.

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The salt marshes are an ecological peculiarity of this region. There is a history to the reclamation of these marshes for salt-making and paddy cultivation. The Agaris specialized in reclamation and associated production activities. These activities, however, also required capital investment and an effective system of land administration. Capital investment, in a stratified society, will be the monopoly of the wealthy sections. It is also regulated by the political rulers and their land administration policies. For instance, in the mid-nineteenth century, the British government offered concession in revenue for the first few years to interested investors. These investors (pandharpeshe) eventually turned into landlords and also moneylenders (savkars). Some other moneylenders also turned landlords. In the southern Konkan districts, the khots (revenue farmers appointed by king Adilshah in the sixteenth century) had turned into default landlords. This landed gentry was drawn mainly from the Brahmans and Muslims. This system of khoti was also prevalent in the northern part of the Konkan but on a lesser scale due to its relatively late inception in this part (nineteenth century). The limited powers of the khots increased during the colonial rule. In the new economy, land had become a saleable commodity. In the Raigad district there was ample scope for the alienation of land, as demands on the peasants in the form of revenue and other taxes increased during the British rule. This often led to the indebtedness of peasants and loss of land to the landlords and savkars. On the other hand, the incidence of tenancy also increased because peasant families were brought in as tenants for the reclamation and cultivation of land by the savkars. The establishment of the caste system in the region, thus, is seen as a process that emerges through the complex interplay of various factors, rather than as a ‘given’. Various cultivating groups seem to have emerged through a slow process of occupation stratification. The boundaries of such groups as horticulturist castes (Panchkalashis, Vadvals, Sutars, Malis and Bhandaris), fisher folk (Karardis, Kolis) agriculturists (Kunabis, Marathas) were not fixed. They were fuzzy and not so well-defined. The relatively delayed entry of the Brahmans and their thin spread in the region has meant that the Brahmanical ideal of hierarchy is somewhat weak and the process of sanskritization rather slow. The ‘structure’ of caste-class relations is elaborately described in Chapter Four. The Agaris, however, were not passive recipients of the injustices of the system. Their resistance can be better understood through the framework of ‘moral economy’ which James Scott discusses in his brilliant work The moral economy of the peasants (1976). The peculiarity however with regard to the Agari peasantry remains that it was bound by a singular caste

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identity. Although the peasant identity of the Agaris is central here, the caste dimensions have also been important in shaping their political actions. The caste dimensions are evident in the fact that it was the Agari peasantry which was pitched against the Brahman, Muslim and Marwari landlords. The caste dimensions are also visible in the cultural and social differences between the peasantry and the landlords. Thus, one can see the construction and position of caste is intricately linked with the realities of land, livelihood and power. Thus, although the Agari community created, managed and tilled the land, their control over it has always remained fragile. In the early twentieth century it went into the hands of savkars, khots and landlords. The major part of their production also went into the hands of the British government through revenue. In the 1970s, the state proposed to acquire the land for urbanization and industrialization. Now in 2005 there is another drive for land acquisition. This could happen because the peasant community lacked not only the economic but also the social and cultural capital (education and the power to make the decisions and implement them) to mediate this process of alienation from land. For instance, in the Ratnagiri district, the Brahman khots could consolidate their positions over the land by refusing the British land settlement and gain recognition as hereditary proprietors, which the Agari khots and even the Muslim khots of the Raigad could not. In the post-Independence period, the Agaris made some gains due to land reforms and political mobilization, but were not able to influence the decision-making processes that unleashed the land acquisition drives. Even today they hardly have any say in the new land acquisitions for the SEZ. The abolition of tenancy and ownership of the land remained the chief demands for Agari peasants throughout the early part of the twentieth century. Agari peasants devised their own modes of resistance to the excesses of the landlords which were by their nature contextual. In Chirner village it came in the form of ‘banditry’. The leadership of this rebellion was drawn from the middle peasantry, those aspiring sections of the peasantry, which were not recognized as tax-payers. Hobsbawm (1959) has termed this form of resistance - ‘social banditry’. For the non-tax paying, non-literate peasants, the modern modes of politics were not available in the pre-Independence era. Firstly, they did not have education. Secondly, they did not hold the stipulated amount of property. These were the criteria for the limited franchise during the British rule. In Chirner, the band of Baraku Chirlekar effectively challenged the power of the savakar landlords. But the nature of this

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resistance was such that the tussles for power between armies of peasants were managed by the landlord. Another mode of resistance was the strike, which was used more than once and in different villages throughout the first half of the twentieth century to express discontent. The peasants left the land of the landlords uncultivated for several years in a row. N. N. Patil, an educated member from the community, had an influential role to play in these strikes and also in representing and shaping the political aspirations of the community. He brought the community into association with the Brahmanetar Paksha and later with the Independent Labour Party of Ambedkar; and in the post-Independence period, with the Shetkari Kamgar Paksha (SKP). Post-Independence, tenancy was abolished phase by phase and the SKP’s vibrant political presence ensured the effective transfer of land to the tillers. By the early part of the 1980s, the land distribution had become far more equitable. But parallel to the land reforms, a drive of planned urbanization to take the burden off the already congested Bombay city was initiated by the Government of Maharashtra in the late 1960s. Parts of Uran and Panvel talukas (in Raigad district) and Belapur taluka (in Thane district) were selected as sites for the proposed new city. This area is contiguous to the eastern part of Uran, where fieldwork for this study was conducted. Agari peasants mobilized, initially against land acquisition and later, for better remuneration for the acquired land. The struggle turned violent as five Agari peasants lost their lives at the hands of the state armed forces. The land was finally acquired, but the peasants got a relatively better deal due to the political pressure of the peasant mobilizations and the killings. These land acquisitions significantly altered the region’s economy and society, not only where the land was lost, but also in my fieldwork area, where land acquisition has not yet taken place but is in the offing. Land became a commodity and politics became a game of money. Presently, the region is on the verge of another spate of land acquisitions for the Maha-mumbai Special Economic Zone. Having closely witnessed the ‘lumpenization’ of the peasantry in their neighbourhood, the peasants are up against the state and other private investors. The Agari peasantry was not a homogeneous entity although it may appear to be so. The internal differentiation of the Agari peasantry was guided by the logic of class as well as by that of caste. But at the same time, the caste logic also blurred the boundaries between the different strata within the community. Gradual changes are visible in the post-Independence period. Internal stratification and upward mobility have, in part, directed these changes in the construction of caste.

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The Agari peasantry has been internally divided and the interests, motives and actions are not completely homogenized as they may appear to be from a distance. In the beginning of the twentieth century these strata were not classes in the strictest sense of the term. Land and wealth determined one’s status within the community. This status was maintained and enhanced through strategic marriage alliances, sanskritization and education. But these strata did not turn into classes due to various factors. The wealthy class formed only a thin layer in the community. They were an integral part of the close-knit kinship network and thus associated with their less humble counterparts. Miniscule in number as they were, it was not always possible to completely severe their ties with their caste fellows. And they shared a cultural ethos which was non-Brahmanical in its essence and expression. They did not completely give up the peasant way of life and they continued to work on their agricultural lands. These ‘elite’ however, were not a part of the revolting peasantry and at times there existed an antagonism between them and the lower ranks of the peasantry. Still they were not considered as a distinct class of landlords/moneylenders (savkarshahi), which, in this region, mainly consisted of savkars and landlords belonging to the Brahmans, Marwari and Muslim communities. In the post-Independence era the savkars, khots and landlords more or less vanished from the village scene. They migrated to the urban centers as land reforms were implemented. Through the auspices of the Shetkari Kamgar Paksha, the gates of formal politics were opened for the peasantry. The contest for power within the village between various sections and factions did not die down completely, but became less violent over the years. Initially, the contest for power was played out through the political rivalry between the SKP and the Congress. Later on, there were additional players – the Shiv Sena and the Nationalist Congress Party. As it happened earlier, kinship networks and internal stratifications, and not just political ideologies and affiliations, were the basis of these competing parties. The peasantry continued to be stratified. Before the 1980s, when the land acquisitions had not yet taken place, the Agari way of life was marked by scarcity and physical hardships. Agricultural income had to be supplemented through fishing, collection and sale of firewood, wage labour and supplementary production activities. Post-1980s, this changed. Scarcity gradually declined and the necessity to diversify for an individual household has also gone down. There are new employment opportunities available. However, the internal stratification of the peasantry in terms of income is not greatly

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disturbed, apart from the fact that there have emerged a handful of people, who have the means to make more money. They have also come to play an influential role in the local political scenario. The distinctness of the Agari way of life and the Agari worldview from the Brahmanical worldview is visible if one follows closely the logic of operation of the caste system. The caste ideology considers manual labour a polluting act. Also the gender hierarchy is one of the premises on which hierarchy of caste rests. With regard to physical labour and gender the Agari worldview displays a remarkable deviation from the hegemonic Brahmanical view as well as from the mainstream literature on sociology and anthropology of work which mainly talks about labour in its commodified form, where it is generally viewed as a source of exploitation and is thus seen as boring and unexciting. I have argued that the ‘Agari way of life’ and limited differentiation within the community, discouraged us from conceiving of the strata as ‘classes’ in the early twentieth century. One significant characteristic of the Agari ‘way of life’ was the dependence on and participation in physical labour. Physical labour was an integral part of an Agari man or woman’s idea of self. Even today the peasant community shares a common sense of belongingness due to their dependence on physical labour. Three characteristics stand out – equal participation of men and women in labour activities, a sense of positive identity derived from labour and the indigenous processes of knowledge-making and its transmission. The Agari identity is firmly rooted in the capacity of the Agari men and women to work not just on the paddy field but also in various activities. A person’s capacity to work is valued. The ethnographic fieldwork revealed that men and women involved in the laborious work derived a sense of pleasure and joy from the work that they did. In these respects, the community, as we can see even today, remains antithetical to Brahmanical ideals of abstinence from labour and the immurement of women. Also the sociology and anthropology of work does not take into account this subjective experience of labour. The dominant pattern is to view labour as a commodity, a source of exploitation, and thus boring and unexciting. However, a closer reading of Marx reveals that he differentiates between labour and labour power. He argues that when labour is not commodified, the experience of labour is for the producer an expression of his/her individuality, peculiarity and leads to enjoyment derived from an individual expression of life. A similar line of thought can be derived from Gandhi’s ideas.

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However, the practices of labour among the Agaris are shifting and changing. Earlier, working on the farm was a family enterprise and it still is. It was enjoyed then and even today people look forward to these opportunities of companionship. Various forms of shared labour practices (handa, majat, jol) show how work was the time to make new friends, spend time with the old ones and with relatives, gossip and share the joys and sorrows of others. There was pride in one’s skills and strength and capacity to labour. But, over the years, the requirement for physical labour has declined. Consequently, the handas – the special groups for sharing labour - are still formed, but less frequently. The primacy of agriculture and labour on the farm has also declined, although not completely vanished. It would be naïve to assume that earlier the region and the community led some isolated and idealized life as a simple peasant community, away from the effects of capitalist market forces. It would also be naïve to argue that these changes were suddenly ushered in by the state initiatives of urbanization and industrialization. As a matter of fact, the visibility and reach of these changes were unprecedented when they were experienced during the 1970s and 1980s. Though the effects were more devastating for those who actually lost their land, the reverberations were also felt in the surrounding villages, including Chirner, which were not affected directly. It should also be noted that the land acquisition has not stopped. The increasing demands of capitalist forces have resulted in fresh bids to acquire land for the Khopata township (as a part of the Mahamumbai SEZ) in the remaining part of Uran, that includes Chirner and 28 other villages. This worldview is also reflected in the family and kinship organization of the community and its patterns of resource distribution. The centrality of labour is also exemplified by the similarities that they share with other labouring communities in this region such as the Karadi, Koli, Kunabi and Panchakalashi. There is a fuzziness of boundaries among these groups and relative lack of hierarchy. This was also perhaps because the entry of the Brahmans was relatively speaking late and their dominance in the region was established only gradually. The Agari lineage is organized around the male line and the demarcation between bride-givers and bride-takers – the sasar and maher – is clear. But there is a relative symmetry between the two. The bride and the groom are both referred to as athvar when unmarried, unlike the Brahman kumari (virgin) which is a more significant category for girls than boys. Marriages are arranged at close quarters– either within the village, or between close kin. In particular, among the Agaris, there was earlier a practice of bride-price (dej)

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and absence of dowry. Divorce was allowed for women. Remarriages for both, a widowed and a divorced woman, were allowed. Widowhood was not denounced within the community. The fact that widowhood did not bar a woman from officiating in Agari marriage rituals is a significant point. Also, there was a custom among the rich to take a gharjavai. As a part of this custom, daughters were sometimes given a share in the land, house and other assets. This relative equality is exemplified not only in kinship categories and marriage rules, but it is also expressed through everyday practices of kinship and marriage relations, although, now the patterns are shifting. Marriages are increasingly taking place at a distance. The more affluent now seek out marriages at some distance. The practice of dej is being given up. It is gradually being replaced with dowry. Dowry has not yet become a norm, but neither is it very uncommon. The custom of gharjavai is today more an option available for the poor. The remarriage of a widow or a divorcee is more common among poor women. The earlier practice where daughters could sometimes lay a claim to the land of their natal families does not remain an established practice. However, the sharing of resources between brothers and married sisters, or between daughters and fathers, especially when the sisters are vulnerable due to some financial crisis or marital crisis, continues. Agari OBC identity has been taking shape over many decades and we have seen, in the thesis that there are real, material conditions of existence and experience that have shaped the identity construction in this regard. In the introductory chapter I have sketched in some detail the movement among the Agaris for the status of a Backward Class/caste. The origins of this demand are in the decade of 1930s. The community persisted with this demand through the post-independence period. While the movement for obvious reason was more visible in the city of Mumbai, my fieldwork revealed that it received support form the local rural leadership and was always viewed as an extension of the peasants’ struggle for ownership of land. The deprivation in terms of material conditions was always associated with the social status of the community. Even so, some of the economic changes in the recent past have propelled some in the community on a different path – towards upward social mobility and a desire to opt for Kshatriya status and reject the Shudra tag. These difference lend dynamism and vitality to the processes of identity construction at present on the whole, however as I have tried to show, the large section of the Agaris espouse a backward caste identity. This arises not merely from a pragmatic desire to acquire the benefits of an OBC categorization. Rather it draws on a history of inter-related experiences

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of marginalization, a caste ethos centered around physical labour and an ideology of gender that has distinctly non-Brahman elements. In short, the thesis argues for a nuanced approach to caste, through the study of a marginalised community in western India that takes into account the ways in which the people perceive and represent themselves and others in relation to the shifting historical, political, economic and cultural contexts. The study of caste in India has been the traditional stronghold of sociology and anthropology. The corpus of work produced on the subject of caste is virtually enormous. Yet the general trend has been to look at the ritual aspects of it, rather than the material conditions and the power relations. Recently there is a growing realization and awareness of this lacuna and attempts towards bridging this gap in terms of theory as well as in terms of empirical studies are emerging (Deliége 1992; Chakravarti 1993; Ganguly-Scrase 2001; Guru 2001). Works on the ‘untouchable’ communities and their experiences are on an increase. Documentations of the lives and experiences of Shudra communities remain, comparatively speaking, few in number. This study hopes to bridge this gap in the existing literature.

279

Appendix I The distribution of Agaris in Bombay Presidency and outside, 1931 Sr.

Place

Total

no.

Males

Females

Total

Percent of

(Agari)

(Agari)

(Agari)

Agari

to

total population 1

Kolaba District

628,721

68,485

69,043

1,37,528

21.874

2

Thana District

836,625

50,578

48,139

98,717

11.799

3

Janjira State 1

98,296

4,938

5,004

9,942

10.114

4

Bombay City

1,161,383

2,603

4,883

7,486

0.644

5

Bombay

179,524

4,842

2,478

7,320

4.077

Suburban District 2 6

Karachi 3

650,240

4,333

2,347

6,680

1.027

7

Bhor State 4

141,456

221

21

433

0.30

8

Nasik District

1,000,048

82

82

164

0.016

9

Poona District

1,169,798

14

1

15

0.001

Bombay

26,271,784 1,36,096

1,29,189

2,65,285

1.009

Presidency Source: Census of India 1931 (1933: 412, 417).

1

This princely state is today a part of Murud taluka.

2

The Bombay suburban districts are presently a part of Greater Mumbai.

3

We know from the Anthropological Survey of India that presently there is more than one community

identifying itself as ‘Agri’ (Anthropological Survey of India 1998: 41-45). We do not know whether these were our Agaris migrated from the northwest part of Maharashtra or was some other community. 4

A part of this state went into Raigad district and remaining part went into Pune district after independence.

281

Appendix II The Interview Schedule

Date Place

Name Date of birth

Caste

Religion

Taluka

District

Sex

Address Village

Education Year

Degree

Subject

Board

Occupation Year

Position

Membership of Social and Political Organization Year

Position

Name of the organization

Other contacts Name

Address and Contact number

Secondary material – literature/articles/diary/ Your own

Field

282

By anybody else

What aspects of the community’s life should be considered in the study?

Customs, traditions, features of the Agari community of you region?

Some autobiographical details Family, education, marriage, occupation, political participation etc.

283

Appendix III The Agaris of North-west Maharashtra:

Sr. No.

Year

An ethnographic study A socio-economic survey conducted in the partial fulfillment of Ph.D. degree, Department of Humanities and Social Science Department IIT Bombay, Powai, Mumbai – 40076

Name

Caste

Date

Address Family Sr. No. Name Relation to the Head of the family

Date of birth Education Occupation Annual Income Age of

Distance

Marriage (sasar-maher)

284 Land (in Acres) Type of

Khar

Sweet

Garden

Varkas

Non-agricultural

Total

Savkari

Purchased Non-savkari

ownership Ownership Rented out Not cultivated Cultivated Given out without rent Total Not owned Rented Cultivated without rent

Crops and the annual production Crops Sweetland Paddy Vegetables Pulses Kharland Varkas

Paddy

Jan Feb March April May June July Aug Sep Oct Nov Dec Annual Income

285 Types of cultivation Family

Handa/Parakel

Hired labour

Self cultivated

Rented in

Rented out? On what terms?

Other sources of livelihood Wage labour

Salaried jobs

Subsidiary occupations Cattle-breeding

Fishing

Business

Duration

Annual Income

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Acknowledgements

Efforts of many people have gone into this work. My supervisor Prof. Rowena Robinson brought to me the rigour and beauty of the ethnographic fieldwork and the discipline of academic research. Though I feel, on my part, there is much left to be achieved. She has gone through the earlier drafts of this thesis several times, and paid attention to the minute details and offered invaluable insights. I’m left without words to express my gratitude for her patience and involvement. Prof. Kushal Deb’s and Prof. D. Parthasarathy’s critical comments, suggestions and guidance throughout were crucial in shaping the work. Prof. Sudha Shastri’s comments were also useful in improving the quality of my work. Prof. Sharmila often went out of her way to read the earlier drafts, listen and offer suggestions when there seemed to be an impasse. I shall always be grateful to Prof. Sharmila Rege, University of Pune, who was my guide in the initial phase before she left IIT Bombay. I also thank Prof. Sebastian for his genuine concern and for giving me an opportunity to work with him. The debts are immeasurable when it comes to remembering the people of Chirner and Uran who took me into their lives rather graciously. My gratitude, first and foremost, is reserved for Aba, Ayav, Dada, Atya, Kaka, Kaku, Pappi, Akku, Nitu, Guddi, Pappu and Bunty, who gave me a home away from home for nearly a year, with such ease and open heart. In Chirner and its neighbouring villages, I met many people who shared much with me without the least of expectations in return. To name them all is beyond the scope of this small note of thanks. They have become a part of me and were with me throughout, not only during the fieldwork but also when I was writing. Some among them, however, need a special mention. Dharmiaji, Subhadratai, Gharat Sir and his family, Tukarambaba and his family,

308

Mokal Guruji, Jayashri tai and Baba, Leelatai, Sudhatai and J. D. Joshi, Thakurbaba and his family and Parvatibai Gawand were more like a family. There were many people from within the community, from Mumbai, Raigad and Thane, who provided invaluable information, resources and contacts. Their encouraging words meant a lot. The list is too long. But I need to mention Prof. M. S. Patil, Mr. Pravin Patil and Mr. Deepak Mhatre for their support, guidance and assistance. Asiatic Society of Mumbai was a dependable source for a variety of books, apart from the libraries of Mumbai University, the International Institute for Population Sciences, Tata Institute of Social Sciences and Mumbai Marathi Grantha Sangrahalaya. I must also thank K. N. Kusuma and her guide Prof. H. S. Pandalai from the Department of Earth Sciences, IIT Bombay for generously making available the resource maps of Ratnagiri and Raigad districts by the Geological Survey of India. The department of Humanities and Social Sciences provided the academic atmosphere and much needed support. Prof. A. Ramanathan, our Head of the Department has been supportive and encouraging throughout. Ms. Hema, Mr. Santosh, Mr. Kamble, Mr. Gavade, Mr. Jadhav and Mr. Kunjukunju are very much a part of this work. Mr. Paulson and Mr. Khadtare in the Academic section of IIT Bombay have also helped me in the matters related to my fellowship etc. I thank all of them. Lively discussions with my young friends over a cup of tea would be missed. Thanks Surya, Aparna, Nitu, Anju and Ashok. My friends in IIT Bombay Ratheesh, Shubha, Ganesh, Meghna, Bindu, Sagarika, Upendra, Sudeep, Shrijita, Amrita and Fareeda; and outside Prajakta, Pranita, Vandana, Paresh, Rupa, Dhananjay and Amen have been patient and understanding. The extended family of Thakurs, Mhatres, Patils and Kothekars were with me as always. My family back in Orissa has been unquestioningly patient, generous and kind. I’m grateful to all of them.

Sai Thakur 5th September, 2007

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