Locality, History, Memory : The Making of the Citizen in South Asia [1 ed.] 9781443804271, 9781443801881

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Locality, History, Memory

Locality, History, Memory: The Making of the Citizen in South Asia

Edited by

Rila Mukherjee and M. N. Rajesh

Locality, History, Memory: The Making of the Citizen in South Asia, Edited by Rila Mukherjee and M. N. Rajesh This book first published 2009 Cambridge Scholars Publishing 12 Back Chapman Street, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2XX, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2009 by Rila Mukherjee and M. N. Rajesh and contributors All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-0188-7, ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-0188-1

Series: Pasts and Futures: Readings in a Contemporary World Editors: Rila Mukherjee, M.N. Rajesh, Eswarappa Kasi and Ramesh C. Malik

TABLE OF CONTENTS

About the Series Pasts and Futures: Readings in a Contemporary World .... viii About the Series Editors................................................................................... x About the Authors in Order of Appearance................................................... xii Acknowledgements ........................................................................................ xv Introduction....................................................................................................... 1 Rila Mukherjee Denizen and Citizens: Citizenship in the World Today Part I: Memories Chapter One .................................................................................................... 12 Hetukar Jha The Concepts of ‘Folk’ and ‘Loka’: A Review Chapter Two ................................................................................................... 20 Ichchha Purna Rai , Balthasar Bickel, Elena Lieven, Goma Banjade, Martin Gaenszle, Manoj Rai, Netra Prasad Paudyal, Novel Kishore Rai, Sabine Stoll, Toya Nath Bhatta Mundum: A Case Study of Chintang Ritual Language Chapter Three ................................................................................................. 34 Khuram Rafique Animism and Mythology—Reflections of Human Essence Chapter Four ................................................................................................... 42 S. Gregory Religion among the Tribes of Malabar: A Symbiosis of Human NatureSupernatural Relationship

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Table of Contents

Part II: The Dilemma of Translating Memories into Histories Chapter Five.................................................................................................... 56 Ramesh C. Malik The Multidimensional Facets of Ethnography: An Agenda for Research Chapter Six ..................................................................................................... 63 Temjenwabang The Conquest of the Naga Lands: The Making of a Strange History Chapter Seven................................................................................................. 87 Malsawmdawngliana Sources of Writing Mizo History and their Limitations Part III: Time Past in Contemporary Perspective Chapter Eight................................................................................................ 110 Raj Sekhar Basu Rewriting the Past: Interrogating the Implications of Adi Dravida Identity and the Panchama Histories in Early Twentieth Century Tamilnadu Chapter Nine................................................................................................. 118 Y. Srinivasa Rao Electricity, Politics and Regional Economic Imbalance in Madras Presidency, 1900-1947 Chapter Ten .................................................................................................. 140 Santhy Balachandran The Past in the Present: The Lord Ayappa Controversy at Sabarimala, 2006 Chapter Eleven ............................................................................................. 152 Rila Mukherjee Locality, History, Memory: Vailankanni and a New Geography of Citizenship Part IV: Regions, Citizens and Development Chapter Twelve............................................................................................. 182 Katrin Uba Citizens against Globalization: Anti-Privatization Protests in India during the Last Decade

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Chapter Thirteen ........................................................................................... 204 R. Gopinath Irrigation Management: Effectiveness of People’s ParticipationA Case Study of the Aralikottai Village Tank in Tamil Nadu Chapter Fourteen .......................................................................................... 217 Govind Dhaske Development Induced Disparity in the Fractured Agrarian Economic Structure of India: Role of Socio-Political Determinants in Making Globalization Productive Chapter Fifteen ............................................................................................. 227 Kibria, Ashiq Mahmud Bin Golam; Syed Ajijur Rahman Health Seeking Behavior in an Agrarian Community: A Case Study of Rural Bangladesh Part V: Marginality Chapter Sixteen............................................................................................. 242 R.B.Patil The Makadwale Community in Kolhapur: Tribes and Citizenship Chapter Seventeen ........................................................................................ 257 Jagannatham Begari The Human Rights Implications of Dalit Self-Assertion in India Chapter Eighteen .......................................................................................... 281 Eswarappa Kasi The Role of NGOs in the Development of Tribal Peoples: A Case Study from a South Indian Tribal Settlement Chapter Nineteen .......................................................................................... 295 Kausar Waqar Social Skills Development in Children with Learning Disability Conclusion .................................................................................................... 308 M.N.Rajesh An Open Moment?

ABOUT THE SERIES PASTS AND FUTURES: READINGS IN A CONTEMPORARY WORLD

The end of the twentieth century has seen momentous shifts both in production and in production relations, now visible in new clusters that dominate physical and intellectual landscapes. This has substantially changed the way we perceive ourselves, as well as the world around us. And yet, this transformation is only partial, visible in some landscapes. Old theories are inadequate to address the rapidly unfolding changes. The question rises: how do we relate past experience-and conventional disciplines-with contemporary realities? How do those ‘left behind’ perceive themselves and the world around them? How do the humanities and the social sciences cope? What is the position, and function, of archaeology, a science that deals exclusively with the human past, in this new shift? What role do disciplines, citizens, communities, states and nations play in this new society? How do we negotiate this new world? Are we living only in a networked society? Language, anthropology, history and historical sociology become, in this context, absolutely relevant once again. How can past experience help us engage with this new world? What are the processes through which the past is forged? What are the optics through which the past is perceived, the tropes through which the present is negotiated, the lens which represents the past and foretells the furure? The negotiation between the past and the present is never more robust than now, in this neo liberal age, when historical memory plays a critical role in defining identity: linguistic, religious, and racial. Paradoxically, nationalism, far from being under stress, is facing a resurgence. The communities we forge are still imagined, but they now embrace cyberspace as well. The power of ICT is enabling a new kind of communitas. Just as the invention of printing and the coming of the book created a group of readers in sixteenth century Europe, just as the newspaper in nineteenth century Asia created a political group anxious for democracy , so too the

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blog in the twenty first century offers multiple platforms for global citizens to voice their alarm and despondency over world affairs. Older clusters of activity transform into nodes in networks that are transnational. Citizenship is redefining itself. As new productive relations materialize, as new methods of organising skills and workspaces occupy centre stage, as technology increasingly dominates our lives, as old hierarchies disappear and new ones are reconfigured spatially, citizens forge new links through networks, rather than in clusters, within and across nation states. The phenomenal growth of the knowledge economy has, therefore, changed the way we live our lives. Two examples come readily to mind: the awesome reach of the internet media which forges new communities and the transformation in work culture that is steadily eroding the conventional distinction between blue and white collar jobs. Cultures are no longer in transition; they are being reconstituted. Silently, traditional disciplines are forging new bridges with technology: the transformation of GIS applications into a new discipline-digital geography-is a case in point. There is a novelty here that we often ignore: in this fast changing technology dominated world: the new relations that dominate our lives are both omnipresent and at the same time invisible. How these changes reconfigure our negotiation with the past is the focus of Pasts and Futures: Readings in a Contemporary World, an initiative launched by concerned faculty and research scholars in the Schools of Humanities and Social Sciences, University of Hyderabad, Hyderabad, India.

ABOUT THE SERIES EDITORS

Prof. Rila Mukherjee, Professor of History, School of Social Sciences, University of Hyderabad, Hyderabad, India, specializes in the early modern world and is the author of Strange Riches: Bengal in the Mercantile Map of South Asia and Merchants and Companies in Bengal: Kasimbazar and Jugdia in the Eighteenth Century, both out in 2006. She is a member of the editorial board of Rethinking History (Routledge), of OMNES: Journal of Migration and Society (Seoul, South Korea) and book review editor of the latter. She is also an Associated Partner in the European Science Foundation Project on The Evolution of Copperation and Trading (TECT) called Dynamic Cooperative Networks in the First Global Age 1400-1800 (DynCoopNet). Dr. M.N. Rajesh is faculty, Department of History, School of Social Sciences, University of Hyderabad, and the author of numerous publications including The Buddhist Monastery (1999) and Gompas in Traditional Tibetan Societies (2002). His interests lie in technology, strategic studies, Tibet and Central Asia. Eswarappa Kasi is Senior Doctoral Fellow in the Department of Anthropology, School of Social Sciences, University of Hyderabad. He has published extensively in peer reviewed journals in India and abroad. He guest edited a Special Issue of Man in India on developmental anthropology with Dr. R. Siva Prasad. He is the co editor of a forthcoming volume: Theory and Practice of Ethnography: Readings from the Periphery with Ramesh C. Malik and co editor of Ethnographic Discourse of the Other: Conceptual and Methodological Issues (Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2008), with Ramesh C. Malik and Prof. Panchanan Mohanty of the Centre for Applied Linguistics and Translation Studies (CALTS), University of Hyderabad. His interests include the anthropology of livelihoods and natural resource management, marginal communities and development.

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Ramesh C. Malik is Senior Research Fellow (UGC), Centre for Applied Linguistics and Translation Studies (CALTS), School of Humanities, University of Hyderabad. His areas of interests are ethnography, translation studies and literary criticism. He has published extensively in peer reviewed national journals. He is the co editor of a forthcoming volume Theory and Practice of Ethnography: Readings from the Periphery with Eswarappa Kasi and co editor of Ethnographic Discourse of the Other: Conceptual and Methodological Issues (Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2008) with Eswarappa Kasi and Prof. Panchanan Mohanty of CALTS, University of Hyderabad. He is passionate about Oriya literature.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS (IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE)

1. Hetukar Jha, former Professor of Sociology, Patna University, Patna, India, is particularly interested in the interface between history, anthropology and society. Author of numerous books, he lives in Patna, India, and his email is [email protected]. 2. Ichchha Purna Rai , Goma Banjade, Manoj Rai, Novel Kishore Rai and Toya Nath Bhatta are at Tribhuvan University, Kathmandu, Nepal, Balthasar Bickel and Netra Prasad Paudyal are at Leipzig University, Leipzig, Germany, Elena Lieven and Sabine Stoll, are from the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology, Leipzig, Germany, and Martin Gaenszle is at the University of Vienna, Vienna, Austria. They may be contacted at [email protected] 3. Khuram Rafique is a freelance research writer in the fields of anthropology and philosophy. His research areas are the interpretation of ontology and epistemology in the light of modern concepts of cultural anthropology. He is from Pakistan. His address is Spall Colony, Behind Daska Bus Stop, GT Road, Wazirabad, District Gujranwala, Pakistan. He can be contacted at (phone) 092-055-6605298, (mobile) 923446003908, and email: [email protected] 4. S. Gregory, is Reader, Dept. of Anthropology, Kannur University, Thiruvanthapuram, Kerala, India. His email is [email protected] 5. Ramesh C. Malik is one of the series editors of Pasts and Futures: Readings in a Contemporary World and is attached to Centre for Applied Linguistics and Translation Studies (CALTS), School of Humanities, University of Hyderabad, Hyderabad, India. 6. Temjenwabang is a PhD scholar working under M. N. Rajesh at the Department of History, University of Hyderabad, Hyderabad, Andhra Pradesh, India. His email is [email protected]

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7. Malsawmdawngliana is a PhD scholar working under M. N. Rajesh at the Department of History, University of Hyderabad, Hyderabad, Andhra Pradesh, India. He teaches History at St. Francis College, Hyderabad, India. He can be contacted at [email protected] 8. Raj Sekhar Basu is Reader in History, Calcutta University, Kolkata, India. His email is [email protected] 9. Y. Srinivasa Rao is Doctoral Fellow, Department of Humanities and Social Sciences, IIT Madras, Chennai, Tamilnadu, India. E-mail: [email protected] 10. Santhy Balachandran, MPhil student, Dept.of Anthropolgy, School of Social Sciences, University of Hyderabad, Hyderabad, India. Her email is [email protected] The essay published here was written as part of her MA course work. 11. Rila Mukherjee is Professor of History at University of Hyderabad, Hyderabad, India and the co editor of this volume, as well as one of the series editors of Pasts and Futures: Readings in a Contemporary World (published by Cambridge Scholars Publishing, UK). She may be contacted at [email protected] 12. Katrin Uba is lecturer at Uppsala University, Sweden. She works on protests against privatisation. Her email is [email protected] 13. R. Gopinath is Project Associate, M S Swaminathan Research Foundation, Chennai, Tamil Nadu, India. His email is [email protected] 14. Govind Dhaske is Research Associate at ICFAI, Mumbai, India. His email is [email protected] 15. Ashiq Mahmud Bin Golam Kibria is a post graduate research student, Dept. of Anthropology, University of Rajshahi, Rajshahi 6205, Bangladesh. Syed Ajijur Rahman is Research Fellow, Dept. of Sociology, University of Rajshahi, Rajshahi 6205, Bangladesh. Their respective emails are [email protected] and [email protected] 16. R. B. Patil is at the Department of Sociology, Shivaji University, Kolhapur 416 004, Maharashtra, India. His e-mail: [email protected]

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About the Authors

17. Jagannatham Begari is a Ph.D Scholar, Research Assistant, Centre for Human Rights,Department of Political Science, University of HyderabadGachibowli-Hyderabad-A.P-India-500046; email: [email protected] 18. Eswarappa Kasi is one of the series editors of Pasts and Futures: Readings in a Contemporary World. He is attached to the Department of Anthropology, School of Social Sciences, University of Hyderabad, Hyderabad, India. Kasi’s email is [email protected] 19. Dr. Kauser Waqar is an Instructor at Aga Khan University- Institute for Educational Development, Karachi, Pakistan and her email is [email protected]. Her major responsibilities include planning and leading inclusive education programs for certificate and graduate levels. She is the coordinator for PAIE (Pakistan Association for Inclusive Education), a nonprofit, non-political, voluntary professional association. 20. M.N. Rajesh is lecturer in History at HCU, Hyderabad, the co-editor of this volume and one of the series editors for Pasts and Futures: Readings in a Contemporary World. His interest is in the interface between anthropology, history and strategic studies. He is particularly interested in Central Asia and passionate about a free Tibet.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The editors wish to acknowledge their debt to the libraries and archives and to the support staff at these institutions: Indira Gandhi Memorial Library, Hyderabad Central University, Hyderabad, India, the Maison des Sciences de l’Homme, Paris, France, the Italian Institute for Africa and the Orient, Rome, the Zanzibar State Archives, Zanzibar, the Centre des Archives Outre Mer, Aix en Provence, France, the Connemara Public Library, Chennai, India, North East Hill University Library, Shillong, India, the Asiatic Society, Kolkata, India, the Xavier Centre for Historical Research, Alto Porvorim, Goa, India and the Library of Tibetan Works and Archives, Dharamsala, India. We record our thanks to the Dean, School of Social Science, Prof. E. Haribabu, and to the Vice Chancellor of HCU, Prof. Seyed E. Hasnain, for providing an enabling atmosphere to conduct the research for this volume in what was, at times, difficult departmental conditions, and to Mr. Temjenwabang for his editorial assistance. We dedicate this volume to the memories of Prof. Dawa Norbu (d. 2006) and to Dr. Prabhati Mukherjee (1920-2008). Rila Mukherjee M. N. Rajesh Hyderabad, December 2008.

INTRODUCTION DENIZEN AND CITIZENS: CITIZENSHIP IN THE WORLD TODAY RILA MUKHERJEE

I Locality, History, Memory was born out of a requirement to interrogate the tropes through which history and memory underpin the notions of citizenship in present Southasia. The negotiation between the past and the present is never more robust than now, in this neo liberal age, when history and memory play a critical role in defining identity in Southasia: linguistic, religious, cultural, national and racial. Moving away from the role of the state, which has been at the centre of all inquiries on citizenship, we ask here the following questions: How does our history enforce or dilute the notion of the citizen? How far does memory strengthen or weaken it? What role do features not normally associated with citizenship such as ritual, faith, religion and pilgrimage play in reinforcing such a status? Time (both time present and time past) is framed here in two settings: as privileging both place (material or ideological site) and space (areas such as religion, oppression, marginalization [dalitisation, for example]). Time therefore transcends here both site/location and actual physical boundaries. Locality or location is therefore envisioned in terms of both actual place as well as a gateway to a larger space, in terms of a situation where historical memory negotiates the increasingly complex present. Agency and contingency therefore assume a critical importance here. In the intensely performative age of late globalisation, the role and play of historical memory in creating identities need to be studied, we felt. The enactment of memory seems aggressively antique in modern garb in the

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Introduction

eyes of the social scientist, while in the eyes of the performer it often possesses a subjective modernity. Antiquity is out, retro is in. Perception, the representation of the past in terms of its defining moments and consequent actions, has become very important. Paradoxically, nationalism, far from being under stress, is facing resurgence in invention1 and much of the arguments in the essays still organize themselves around the concept of the nation state. However, there is a conflict between the idea of the nation state and the perception of the larger civilizational area of which the nation state forms a part; and this conflict is brought out succinctly in the concluding chapter by M.N. Rajesh. Community, nations and nationalisms have always had an uneasy relationship with history. While inventing itself, nationalism points to an immemorial past and a limitless, sometimes timeless, future, which material reality often curtails. The complex relation between citizen, nation, its ‘other’ and terror, is one such example, writing especially in the wake of the Mumbai terror attacks of 26/11. The terrorist is, after all, also a nationalist, but from the ‘other’ side. Unfortunately it was not possible to include an essay on this aspect in this volume. Having said this; it seems that citizenship in Southasia is reinventing itself through allegiance both to the old and the new. Citizen mobilization is taking place through new means and bodies such as the internet, political parties and rights watch groups, Trade Unions, and industrial actions. But allegiance to older forms of collective identity and action is assuming new forms as well: local level community actions, religious identity, pilgrimage, naturopathy are a few cases studied here. The varied essays in this volume point to the optics through which the past is perceived, the lens through which the past is represented, the tropes through which the present is negotiated, and the vehicles through which the future is foretold. Language becomes here, through its system of symbols and signs, as much an organizing object, as any other social feature. Just as Arabic, Mandarin Chinese, Urdu, classical Sanskrit or Buddhist Hybrid Sanskrit became the distinguishing features of religious communities, bureaucracies , trading groups and political communities, so too today’s language breeds a new kind of transnational community that restricts itself to txt language2.

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Yes, the communities we forge are still imagined, but they now embrace cyberspace as well3. And the national space is now challenged as never before.

II Desforges et al write that traditionally citizenship has been addressed through the concept of space. The notion of ‘spaces of citizenship’ has provided a useful framework for geographical engagement with the theory and practice of citizenship, particularly through exploration of the spatially differentiated nature of de facto citizenship as experienced by ‘othered’ groups who are subjected to social and spatial marginalization4. Citizenship was initially linked to place rootedness. Historically, citizenship was a gift and a mark of belonging and commitment to a specific place (a city-state or borough), and the rights and responsibilities of citizenship were performed in this civic context. See Aristotle’s Politics or look to republican Rome. Study fifteenth century Renaissance Europe for reaffirmations of the idea of the active citizen. The place-rootedness of citizenship was diluted by the assertion of the nation-state and of national citizenship from the late eighteenth century onwards. As space has also a larger territorial component, the prevalent notion of citizenship then evolved around the ‘national’ citizen5. But space has also a reach beyond territorial groupings and the nation state is no longer the only available space for the active citizen6. Whereas the mode of ‘managed liberalism’ that was dominant in most post-war advanced liberal democracies prioritized the ‘national citizen’ in its emphasis on the security of social, political and economic rights at the national scale (see chapter twelve by Uba which demonstrates a very specific Indian situation where protests are often mobilized through political parties and trade unions; although even at this level, the place, its culture and context remain important), the new mode of ‘governing through communities’ shifts the emphasis to the practice of responsibilities by ‘active citizens’ in sub-national communities. Operationalised across the canvass of state activity, such ‘active citizenship’ includes the organization of ‘neighbourhood watch’ schemes to guard against crime, community initiatives to provide or support education, social housing and welfare provision outside the state sector, and the promotion of community-led actions for economic regeneration and for the sharing of

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Introduction

common resources, such as electricity, water or grazing lands. Although the strategy of ‘governing through communities’ need not necessarily refer to place-based communities, the territorial mentality of the state has meant that in practice it is often through place-based communities that active citizenship is mobilized, focusing renewed importance on the engagement of citizenship and place7. So the recent transition in governmentality has arguably remade the connection: active citizens act for and within place-based communities and they are defined by place-based community. This in turn has spatially fragmented the practice of citizenship in at least three ways. First, the principle of universal entitlement in national citizenship has been replaced by territorially limited initiatives of active citizenship, such as neighbourhood watch schemes may feel responsible only for those areas with significant participation rates. Second, the capacity of a community to act according to normative models of active citizenship and community action is shaped by the characteristics of the place, including its institutional infrastructure, historical and geographical context, social and economic composition and so on, such that uneven geographies of local citizen action result. In chapter thirteen Gopinath shows us the effectiveness of water management based on indigenous knowledge at the local community level; Dhaske in chapter fourteen and Kibria and Rahman in chapter fifteen note that initiatives based on local knowledge systems have yet to be integrated into policy. Third, active citizens are judged to have succeeded or failed as citizens of a place-based community, with repercussions for the further treatment of that locality by the state8. The situation is of course exacerbated in those spaces that experienced colonialism. Hindess writes9: The condition of citizenship in post-colonial states in particular is also seriously constrained by the governmental institutions and practices inherited from the colonial period, most of which were predicated on a view of the subject population as considerably less civilised than their rulers. In practice, of course, some such view of the subject population is held by the political/administrative class in all modern states but it was more pronounced, and more freely expressed, in the case of populations subject to modern imperial rule. Colonial rule by Western states involved a clear distinction between citizens and subjects and a systematic development of what eventually became known, in the case of Britain’s African possessions, as indirect rule: that is, of a practice of government which worked through institutions that relied on what were thought to be indigenous customs and structures of authority.

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Locality, History, Memory shows that citizenship in contemporary Southasia is constrained not only by the vestiges of the colonial past but also by the residue from older practices, as the articles in the section on marginality note.

III At the same time, citizenship is also being rescaled upwards above the nation-state; see the European Union which has proactively sought to foster a sense of European citizenship; see SAARC efforts to bring about a composite Southasian citizenship. The newly proposed South Asian University, whose courses would offer a composite Southasian culture, a common knowledge base and a holistic training with Southasia as focus is a case in point. Yet, it is not only state actors that are involved in rescaling citizenship. In an increasingly cosmopolitan and globalised world, new transnational citizenships are emerging based on ethnic, cultural or religious identities and promoted by diasporic communities or faith groups. This is also one of the arguments of this volume. The development of such awareness has been assisted by the instantaneous interconnectivity of global telecommunications as well as by the increased mobility of individuals in travelling the world for work and leisure, both of which have been attributed as factors in the response to the Indian Ocean tsunami in December 2004, the Pakistan earthquake of 2005, and of course in the immediate aftermath of the Mumbai terror attacks of 26/11(the globalised nature of the accusations and counter accusations between India and Pakistan, the coordination between the different security and investigative agencies in India, Pakistan and indeed around the world, the universal condemnation of terrorism by all communities, and the coming together and affirmations of faith in the nation by all communities). A notion of ‘global citizenship’ has been nurtured within civil society, particularly by aid agencies and environmental and human rights groups seeking both to extend ‘global rights’ and to engender a sense of collective global responsibility: this global citizenship is particularly visible in the arenas of global human and cultural rights, water management, environment watch and so on10. It is time that we start to think of sustainable citizenship (at least in a fully fledged sense) as an open, or hybrid form of citizenship, which connects different spaces, times and facets of substance11.

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Introduction

What makes a sustainable citizen? S/he has to know a wide variety of contexts-perhaps the Indian caste system, Islamic religious beliefs, or French colonial ties to North Africa-but a study of these tend to produce a very abstract and arbitrary set of values. It suggests that to be a good sustainable citizen, you need to have certain types of political and historical knowledge. Of course this reification of certain forms of knowledge undermines the practical nature of sustainable citizenship, or an appreciation of the ways in which individuals’ own actions affect the environment, distant others and future generations12.

IV The first section of Locality, History, Memory, the essays by Jha, Rai et al, Rafique, and Gregory, points to different ways religion, memory and tradition traverse regions, peoples languages and cognitive practices in India and Nepal. The essays by Rai et al and Gregory point to the insidious Brahmanisation that is becoming visible in various folk practices in India and Nepal. Both in the mundum, the ritual chant of the Kiratis in Nepal, and in the ‘natural’ religion of the tribes in Kerala, India, Sanskrit loan words and the appearance of Brahmin deities are diluting the original content of their beliefs. Jha’s essay is particularly significant in that it points out a basic fallacy made by social scientists: that folk (volk) and loka (people) are the same. Folk has a connotation of the national, either as ideal or actual, but loka means a vast mass left untouched by Vedic ritual. Loka as denizen may also be considered to be the marginal, and Jha’s essay is a fitting start to a volume that ends with marginals and marginality, in Part Five. Chapter ten (Balachandran), chapter sixteen (Patil) and chapter seventeen (Begari) reinforce the marginal status of the loka. What implication does this have for the transformation of loka, or denizen, into citizen? The second section should spark off a debate. Malik writes that ethnography and translation studies can provide an alternative history through its integration of the social sciences, humanities and material culture. This is contested by the two essays that follow: the essays by Temjenwabang and Malsawmdawngliana show the tragedy of a people trapped by a memory that has little hope of translating into ‘history’. These two essays, from the perspectives of Naga and Mizo histories respectively, are particularly

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significant because history writing was fractured in these regions by the colonial intrusion. Ethnography, instead of providing a way out, actually helped reinforce the prejudices and attitudes that colour histories of the north east of India written by post colonial scholars even today. An additional need was to question the when and how the play of location, memory and history translated into notions of citizenship across Southasia. Southasia is an exceptionally plural area of races, faiths, languages, beliefs and knowledge traditions. The essays by Basu, Rao, Balachandran and Mukherjee in the third section show that the pull of factors other than politics is possibly stronger here. Is regionalism too stronger here than in other parts of Asia? This situation is now being challenged by new kinds of protests and the new technologies as never before, seen in the essay by Uba which starts the fourth section. The essay on the politics of electricity between regions by Rao, although historical in scope and therefore placed in the third section, may be read as a forerunner to that of Gopinath in the fourth section which shows the impact of water management in the region. Dhaske and Kibria/Rahman illustrate the impact of global movements on the economic and health domains in two critical studies on India and Bangladesh. The fifth section on marginality shows different strands of marginalization. If the essay by Patil points to the helplessness of tribals, that by Begari shows how this helplessness is now translating into an assertion that the Indian state is uncomfortable with. Eswarappa’s essay on peoples’ participation in development and capacity building programmes is different in that it suggests a way out through developmental activities. Waqar’s essay addresses another kind of marginalization, that of learning disabilities, and suggests how these may be remedied in the classroom. I started this introduction with the notion of time--particularly the past and the present. But time past and time present are not the only concerns of Locality, History, Memory. The future is upon us now and M.N. Rajesh shows us how the discipline of history is unequipped to face the new world. Yet, history remains important because without knowledge of the past we risk the slippage into a technocratic vision and mode with little respect for local conditions and cultural contexts. If Truth and Time are at the basis of all historical writing, as historians claim, then both have faced challenges historians have not been successful

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in overcoming. History’s Truth claims were undermined by the post modernist assault, most visibly in cultural studies, from the 1980s, and Time, the basis of history as Fernand Braudel once said, has now assumed a form that historians are unable to cope with. Compacted time blurs the sequential divide between the past and now. Yesterday has now become the past, in this fast changing world that we live in. And due to the digital divide, one group’s past has become another group’s present. How do we deal with this fast and yet uneven change? The new ICTs are transforming communities like never before and how! Manuel Castells wrote that ‘new power lies in the codes of information and in the images of representation around which societies organize their institutions, and people build their lives, and decide their behavior. The sites of this power are people’s minds’13. Just as this ‘new power’ is transforming the notion of time, it is also both transforming conventional understandings of citizenship and also pressing the case for more complex cultural understandings of its genuinely new dimensions. Definitions of citizenship need to link the struggle for rights and social justice with the quest for recognition and cultural respect. Further, while citizenship studies have broadened their focus to include concepts such as sexual citizenship, ecological citizenship and multicultural citizenship, it needs to pay greater attention to the rise of the ‘cultural’ society. The genuinely ‘cultural’ dimensions of citizenship can no longer be assumed to be peripheral within modern mediated, globalised and post-modernized societies. These features and others have transformed modern forms of citizenship14. Cosmopolitanism means a way of viewing the world-a way that among other things dispenses with national exclusivity, dichotomous forms of gendered and racial thinking, doing away with seeing things exclusively within national frames, and imposing rigid separations between culture and nature, and popular and high culture. Such a sensibility would be open to the new spaces of political and ethical engagement that seek to appreciate the ways in which humanity is mixed into inter-cultural ways of life.

V Territoriality fosters identity. So does culture. Localism, parochialism and a related sense of exclusiveness (memory, history) are still there in a people’s understanding of political life, in making their identity and of

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determining their place as citizens within these markers. Also, bounded spaces, such as nation-states, distort the relational spaces of topological connections in important ways, so that regional and transnational narratives of belonging and citizenship are yet to emerge. We have yet to go beyond national frames when we study any phenomenon, be it historically or contemporaneously. Yet, while escaping the ‘tyranny of the local’, citizens, activists and the ordinary person in the street next door often engage in new transnational networks of empowerment. There is a potential for a certain degree of liberation within these new spaces of citizenship but we should be wary of ascribing a necessary link between relational thinking and political empowerment and liberation. Less powerful groups (those economically and politically disadvantaged, the physically disabled, the digitally challenged and culturally deprived groups) may well be disempowered as a result of engaging more fully with the topological connections of a global world. For mobile populations, hybrid citizenship may form the basis of complex new forms of subjectivity. The hybrid identities to which multiple memberships in different states and political communities give rise pose major challenges to states’ core capacities to define their citizenry, but they are also a testimony to the inventiveness of subjects in engaging in an assemblage of transnational practices to access material and citizenship resources, and increase their life opportunities and those of their families15. Citizenship is far from being a discrete entity. It is actually multidimensional, referring to the formal, legal status of nationality as embodied in the ration card, the SC/ST certificate or the passport in Southasia; the peoples’ access to certain ideologies, rights and privileges; empowerment, a form of political practice; political/communal identity or solidarity, faith, a sense of belonging. This list is not exhaustive. How the various facets of citizenship are being transformed by the complex and diversely spatialized practices in the world today, including the new forms of governance that respond to deprivations and insecurities in populations, was a concern in Locality, History, Memory.



Notes 1

Benedict Anderson, 2006, Imagined Communities, Revised edition, Verso, London, New York: 6

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Introduction

 2

And literature! See Gautam Malkani, 2006, Londonstani, HarperCollins, UK. 3 Manuel Castells, 1996, The Information Age:Economy, Society and Culture, V.1 The Rise of the Network Society, (second edition, 2000), Blackwell, Cambridge, MA; Oxford, UK:, and Castells, 1997, V.2 The Power of Identity, The Information Age: Economy, Society and Culture, (second edition, 2004), Blackwell, .Cambridge, MA; Oxford, UK. 4 Luke Desforges, Rhys Jones and Mike Woods, 2005, 'New Geographies of Citizenship', Citizenship Studies, 9:5, 439 – 451: 439. 5 Satoshi Ikeda, 2004, 'Imperial subjects, national citizenship, and corporate subjects: cycles of political participation/exclusion in the modern world-system', Citizenship Studies, 8:4, 333 – 347. 6 Barry Hindess, 2002, 'Neo-liberal Citizenship', Citizenship Studies, 6:2, 127 – 143. 7 Desforges et al: 440. 8 Desforges et al: 440-41. 9 Barry Hindess, 2002: 137-8. 10 Anna Bullen and Mark Whitehead, 2005, 'Negotiating the Networks of Space, Time and Substance: A Geographical Perspective on the Sustainable Citizen', Citizenship Studies, 9:5, 499 – 516: 503. 11 Ibid: 507. 12 Ibid: 511-12. 13 Castells, 1997, Vol 1, p. 359. 14 Nick Stevenson, 2003, 'Cultural Citizenship in the 'Cultural' Society: A Cosmopolitan Approach', Citizenship Studies, 7:3, 331 – 348: 331. See too Pierre Bourdieu, 1984, Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste, Routledge, London. 15 Daiva Stasiulis, 2004, 'Hybrid citizenship and what's left', Citizenship Studies, 8:3, 295 – 303: 301.

PART I: MEMORIES

CHAPTER ONE THE CONCEPTS OF ‘FOLK’ AND ‘LOKA’: A REVIEW HETUKAR JHA

In most of the languages of northern and western India, the word loka is considered as equivalent of the word ‘folk’. One of the most popular English – Hindi dictionaries mentions loka as the meaning of ‘folk’ (Bulcke, 2002). In the Comprehensive Glossary of Technical Terms (1973: 543) one finds the same meaning of folk. Besides, the sociological and anthropological researches on lokageet, lokagatha, lokokti, etc., are also generally recognized and entitled as studies of Indian ‘folklore’. For example, one may mention the works of H. Barua (1963), Verrier Elwin (1944), Irawati Karve (1939), Sarat Chandra Mitra (1904, 1917, and 1929), B. Rama Raju (1964), M. S. A.Rao (1955), Sarat Chandra Roy (1932), K. D. Upadhyaya (1964), Ved Prakash Vatuk (1979), L. P. Vidyarthi (1959), Indra Deva (1989), etc. However, the cultural and historical background of the word loka and that of the word ‘folk’ are not same. It is, therefore, not out of place to discuss the meanings of each in view of its own historical and cultural contexts. Here, first, an attempt is made to describe the meanings assigned to ‘folk’. In the second half of the eighteenth century, J .G. Herder posited a philosophical framework of culture in Germany according to which Germany was considered to be its volk. The word volk was assigned chiefly three meanings: 1. people as a nation, 2. people of a historical part of a nation, or a tribe and 3. the people of the lower and governed class who are uneducated and regarded as common people (Dick, 1989:18-19). Considering the first and third meaning of volk, it seems that, for Herder, the concept of volk is dual-faceted; on the one hand, all the people of a nation constitute volk, on the other, volk is simply the mass of the lower class people. Richard Bauman (1992: 29) writes that for Herder ‘the possession of a common language was the touchstone of a people’s distinctiveness, the

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source that gave rise to and sustained….. their…. unique social entity; language embodied the character, the inner being of volk’. In 1846, about 40 years after the death of Herder, Jacob Grimm reaffirmed the essential notion of volk held by Herder. According to him, ‘A volk is the totality of people speaking the same language’ (quoted in Tillis, 1999:34). Tillis (1999:34) contends in this context that Grimm, like Herder, advanced the dual-faceted concept of folk and wrote ‘folk tales’ as being both ‘national tales’ as well as ‘tales of the common people’ since ‘the nation’s (Germany’s) heritage had been compelled by historical circumstances to take refuge among the lower classes’. It seems that in German tradition, it is the common people, the lower, governed and uneducated people who are considered volk1 (folk). But their tales, being assumed to be containing the heritage of the entire nation, are supposed to be ‘national tales’. In England, it was William Thoms who first used the term ‘folk-lore’ in 1846 to replace the term ‘popular antiquities’. Thoms himself was an antiquary concerned with rescuing the ‘fading legend’, ‘fragmentary ballad’ and ‘neglected custom’ of the olden times (Tillis 1999 : 29, 36). England had a long tradition of antiquarianism that considered the uneducated people of ‘tightly bound rural communities’ as the ‘repository of … (all kinds of tales, legends). …and religious customs …. maintained by oral tradition’ (Ibid ; 39). Later, there emerged cultural evolutionists led by E. B. Tylor, Andrew Lang and James Frazer, for whom folklore was one that had survived from the stage of savagery, the study of which would help in understanding and explaining the past (lost) cultural traditions as well as their ‘survivals’ in the present age of civilization (Ibid : 44). So, for them, it was the savage people who constituted ‘folk’ society. In early nineteenth century France, the peasants were called savage on account of being isolated, illiterate, etc, (Weber, 1976: 3-6). Robert Redfield and Milton Singer also hold almost a similar view. According to them (1976: 341): The folk society may be considered as that imagined combination of social elements which would characterize a long-established, homogeneous, isolated and non-literate (self-contained) community; the folk culture is that society seen as a system of common understandings. Such a society can be approximately realized in a tribal band or village.

So, for Redfield, folk society is a tribal society as assumed by the cultural evolutionists. Peasant society, however, according to Kroeber and Redfield, occupies an intermediate position between tribal stage and modern ‘organic’ society having elements of both (Jha, 1995: 6-7). Peasant society is thus held as still retaining the cultural traditions of the folk / tribal world. It may be

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noted here that the works of Vasil Chakov, Chayanov, Eric Wolf, Daniel Thorner etc., make it clear that peasant social formation has its own features which are peculiar to it and which, thus, contradict Redfield’s characterization of it as ‘part society and part culture’ (ibid: 7-9). However, it seems that the views of Kroeber and Redfield in respect of the continuity of folk traditions in peasant society are very close to that of cultural evolutionists in England. Tillis (1999: 44) concludes his analysis of the views of cultural evolutionists in the following words: ‘Folklore, for the cultural evolutionists, was that which had survived from the savage stage of culture into the lower reaches of higher civilization ….. The term “folk” for the cultural evolutionists, referred simply to those who maintained folklore: the “modern European peasant” and “English ploughman” mentioned by Tylor, the “unprogressive classes” by Lang. The antiquaries’ conception of the folk as the uneducated, primarily rural people who lived with, and under, an educated, urbanized elite was adopted without pause’ (emphasis added). This meaning of ‘folk’, thus, indicates that peasants for all practical purposes have been considered to constitute ‘folk’ and the study of its ‘lore’ can help one in understanding past cultural traditions. It appears to be close to the approach of Herder and Grimm in the sense that it also identifies folk with peasant, the bottom layer of people. However, there is a vital difference between the two: for Herder and Grimm, the study of folklore helps in understanding the national heritage as a whole, whereas, for the cultural evolutionists and antiquaries, folklore study can help in understanding the past by revealing its ‘survivals’. Notwithstanding the views of Herder and Grimm and the English antiquaries (mentioned above), it seems that the American anthropological folklorists came to reach more or less a consensus regarding the meaning / identification of ‘folk’. The Funk and Wagnalls Standard Dictionary of Folklore, Mythology and Legend, edited by Maria Leach in 1949, included definitions of ‘folklore’ given by twenty one American folklorists which were subsequently analyzed by Francis Lee Utley (1965: 10) who, then, posited the consensus that conceived of folklore as simply oral tradition and considered ‘folk’ to be comprehensive enough to include all cultures, not one restricted only to peasant communities. In addition to the above mentioned views on what is folk, Tillis (1999: 5859) describes that the folk group is a small (face-to-face), not temporary, group according to Ben-Amos, and, further, according to Alan Dundes, the term ‘folk’ can refer to any group of people having at least one common factor, some tradition(s) ‘which it calls its own’. He, then, gives his own definition (Ibid: 63-64): ‘For a definition of folk ….. I suggest that a folk is

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15

any group of people, who share at least one common factor, such as a family bond, occupation, ethnicity, nationality, or language, and who as a result also share a corpus of performance that engenders and / or enhances a sense of communal identity.’ Tillis’s definition, thus, seems to be comprehensive enough to incorporate almost all the defining criteria of ‘folk’ suggested by Herder, Grimm, the English antiquaries, the American anthropological folklorists, and others, discussed before. One may, now, take up the question of loka. The word loka is used in many contexts such as those denoting different layers of universe, for example, bhuloka, bhuvarloka, etc. The present study however is concerned with its use simply in the sense of ‘people’, which has prevailed since the ancient period in India. There is a tradition concerning loka, known as lokayata. According to Radhakrishnan, it emerged and developed as a philosophy during the period beginning from 600 B.C. to A.D. 200 as a result of the ‘crumbling down’ of the ‘faith of centuries’, whereas J. Muir considered it as an effect of the consolidation of faith. (Chattopadhyaya, 1959: 11-12). Chattopadhyaya made a thorough inquiry into its contents and ethos and observed (Ibid: 16 and 72) that the tradition of lokayata has been existing as distinct from and also opposed to the parampara based on shrutis and smritis (that is, Vedic tradition) in the sense that the former (due to having a predominance of tantric [esoteric-ed] world-views) does not recognize one on the basis of his varna / caste background. It is one’s own individual attributes (irrespective of his / her varna/ jati) which are considered important for his / her recognition. The varna principle of Vedic tradition has no space in lokayata. Lokayata in the ancient period included varta that was concerned with agricultural science and practices which were closely linked with tantric cults. So, almost all the cults of (vamachar) tantra, such as kapalika, sahajiya, etc. came to be known as belonging to lokayata which was followed by almost all (loka) excluding those upper varnas who generally followed the Vedic parampara. Like lokayata and parampara, tantras existed since time immemorial. Following the rise of Buddhism, tantric cults were incorporated into its different branches, and then such cults flowered. Further, as the Nath cult of tantra emerged and spread to different corners of India, one finds the names of lower caste men and women as siddhas in overwhelming numbers (Dwivedi, 1950: 38-163). It may be noted here that shudras in general (those below the categories of upper varnas) and women (of all varnas) were deprived of any opportunity of participating in the activities of Vedic tradition, or, in other words, they were eliminated from the fold of Vedic

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Chapter One

tradition since the days preceding the Mauryan period (Sharma 1966: 31). Thus, gradually there emerged a vast mass of people (comprising the women of the upper varnas and men and women of all lower caste groups) for whom there was no space left in the tradition of shrutis – smritis followed by the men of upper varnas. According to Apastamba Dharmasutra, the former (the vast mass of people) ‘could have access to only one kind of knowledge, which was a supplement of the Atharva Veda, generally regarded as a nonAryan work’ (Ibid). This part of Atharva Veda being non-Aryan contains knowledge related to tantric and other materialistic aspects. Further, according to Sharma (2001: 51), after the third or fourth century A.D. the crisis of kaliyug depicted in different puranas indicates that the hostility between brahmanas and shudras increased a great deal. Perhaps due to the increasing conflict with brahmanas and having been eliminated from the fold of Vedic tradition, shudras (along with upper varna women who had also been granted the same status, described before) increasingly came to the broad fold of lokayata and consequently the ideological (cultural) and sociopolitical divide between its followers and those of Vedic tradition was, in course of time, consolidated. Sharma (1966: 32) contends in this context that ‘women and labouring masses were placed in the same position’ under the dominance of the class of priests and warriors. The dominated people, according to Monier-Williams (1995: 658), were known as praja (subjected). And, according to the Sanskrit-Hindi Kosh of V.S.Apte (1966: 884) the word loka was used for praja. This is corroborated by others as well. For example, Jaya Paranjape (2002: 415) writes that praja was identified as loka having their own tradition that had practically nothing to do with that of (dharma) shashtras and pandits. According to Hajari Prasad Dwivedi’s view in this context, loka means all those people who are different from those considered to be the cultural and social elite and who do not depend on the knowledge of (dharma) shashtras for their socio-cultural existence (mentioned in Tiwary, 2002: 384). Besides, it may also be mentioned that there are lokoktis (proverbs) asserting the dignity and power of loka. The following two proverbs (Mishra and Mishra, 2001: 709-710) are cited for example: (1) loka patita ki vansha patita? (This proverb implies that it is individual family or families which can be said to be degraded, how can people as a whole be said to be degraded?) (2) loka Raja Ramochandar ke naa ha (it says that people cannot spare even Raja Ramchandra not to talk of others). Lokayata parampara (including that of various tantric and non-Vedic cults and practices), it seems, has been contributing legitimacy to their world views, their creations (such as lokokti, that is, sayings of lok, lokageet, lokagatha, etc.), and their rituals (loukika or

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practices performed on the occasions of different ceremonies which are distinct from dharmashashtriya rituals), etc. It may be noted that for collecting lokokti, lokagathas, lokageets of any community in India, anthropologists and sociologists generally approach the knowledgeable ones belonging to the objectified category of loka (constituted mostly by peasant families along with the rural women of upper varnas) of that community. Thus, one may say that loka has existed as an objectified category of society that is upheld by a tradition (lokayata) continuing in one form or another since the ancient period. Further, besides the mass of peasantry, the women of the upper varnas have also been recognized as living the loka parampara. They possess the knowledge of loukika rituals, loukika practices, etc., and the transmission of such knowledge from generation to generation, which is almost restricted to the category of females, depends upon oral communication and training as an integral part of the process of socialization within the family. The tradition of conducting rituals relating to the family goddess by women, the tradition of conducting loukika rituals on the occasion of a marriage ceremony and the tradition of making aripans (which is part of what has become known as Madhubani folk painting that is still done chiefly by women) may be mentioned, for example, in this context (Jha and Lakshminath, 1962). So, loka is not a construct of sociology or anthropology and this identity is extended to and held by the peasantry as well as upper varna women, particularly of a rural background. It is in these two contexts that the term loka seems to be different from the concepts of ‘folk’ discussed before.

References Apte, V.S., 1966, Sanskrit-Hindi Kosh, Delhi, Motilal Banarasidass. Barua, H., 1963, Folk Songs of India, New Delhi, Indian Council of Cultural Relations. Bauman, Richard, 1992, “Folklore”, Folklore, Cultural Performances, and Popular Entertainments: A Communications – Centred Handbook, New York, Oxford University Press, 29-40. Ben-Amos, Dan 1982, Folklore in Context, New Delhi, Asian Publishers. Bhagwat, Durga, 1958, An Outline of Indian Folklore, Bombay, Popular Book Depot. Bulcke, C. 2002, An English-Hindi Dictionary, New Delhi, S. Chand and Company Ltd.

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Chattopadhyaya, Debiprasad, 1959, Lokayata, New Delhi, People’s Publishing House. Comprehensive Glossary of Technical Terms, Vol.1, 1973, C.S.T.T. and Central Hindi Directorate, Ministry of Education, Government of India. Deva, Indra 1989, Folk Culture and Peasant Society in India, Jaipur, Rawat Publications. Dick, Ernst S., 1989, ‘The Folk and Their Culture: The Formative Concepts and the Beginnings of Folklore’, Robert J. Smith and Jerry Stannard eds. The Folk: Identity, Landscapes and Lores, Lawrence, University of Kansas, 11-28. Dundes, Alan, 1975 Analytic Essays in Folklore, The Hague; Mouton. Dwivedi, Hajari Prasad 1950, Nath Sampradaya (in Hindi), Allahabad, Hindustani Academy. Elvin, Verrier, 1994, Folk-tales of Mahakoshal, Oxford University Press. Jha, Hetukar, 1995, ‘Understanding Peasant and Its Low-Classness’, Vijay Kumar Thakur and Ashok Aounshuman eds. Peasants in Indian History, Patna, Janaki Prakashan, 4-18. Jha, H. and Lakshminath Jha, 1962, Mithila Ki Sanskritik Lokachitrakala (in Hindi), Darbhanga (Bihar), Lakshminath Jha. Leach, Maria, ed. 1949, Funk and Wagnalls Standard Dictionary of Folklore, Mythology and Legend, 2 vols, New York, Funk and Wagnalls. Mishra, Bhuvaneshwar Nath ‘Madhava’ and Vikramaditya Mishra eds. 2001, Kahavat Kosh (in Hindi), Patna, Bihar, Rashtra Bhasha Parishad. Mitra, Sarat Chandra, 1904, ‘Folklore Notes from North India’, Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, 14. —. 1929, ‘Studies in Folklore of North Bihar’, Journal of the Bihar and Orissa Research Society, Patna. Monier-Williams, Monier, 1995, A Sanskrit-English Dictionary (first edn. 1899), Reprint, Delhi, Motilal Banarasidass. Paranjape, Jaya, 2002, ‘Loka: Itihas, Purana, Mithak’ (in Hindi), Piyush Daiya ed. Loka, Udaipur, Bharatiya Loka Kala Mandal. Prasad, Harish Chandra, 1971, A Bibliography of Folklore of Bihar, Calcutta, Indian Publications. Rama Raju, B., 1964, ‘Telugu Folk Songs’, Sankar Sen Gupta and K.D. Upadhyaya eds. Studies in Indian Folk Culture, Calcutta, Indian Publications. Rao, M.S.A., 1955, ‘Folklore, Songs and Proverbs of Kerala’, Journal of the University of Bombay, 23 (4). Redfield, Robert and Milton B. Singer, 1976, ‘City and Countryside: The Cultural Independence’, Teodor Shanin ed. Peasants and Peasant Societies, Penguin Books, 337-365.

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Roy, Sarat Chandra, 1932, ‘The Study of Folklore and Tradition in India’, Journal of the Bihar and Orissa Research Society, Patna. Sharma, R.S., 1966, ‘Some Joint Notices of Women and Shudra in Early Indian Literature’, in R. S. Sharma, Light on Early Indian Society and Economy, Bombay, Manaktala. —. 2001, ‘The Kali Age, A Period of Social Crisis’, R.S. Sharma, Early Medieval Indian Society, Kolkata, Orient Longman Ltd. Tillis, Steve, 1999, Rethinking Folk Drama, London, Greenwood Press. Tiwary, Ram Chandra, 2002, ‘Loka Ke Pratika Aur Unka Paridrishya’ (in Hindi), Piyush Daiya ed. Loka, Udaipur, Bharatiya Loka Kala Mandal. Upadhyaya, K.D., 1964, Studies in Indian Folk Culture, Calcutta, Indian Publications. Utley, Francis Lee, 1965, ‘Folk Literature: An Operational Definition’, Alan Dundes ed. The Study of Folklore, Eaglewood Cliffs, N.J., Prentice Hall, Inc., 7-24. Vatuk, Ved Prakash, 1979, Studies in Indian Folk Tradition, New Delhi, Manohar Publications. Vidyarthi, L.P., 1959, ‘The Cultural Linguistic Regions of Indian Folklore’, Indian Folklore, 2, 182-195. Weber, Eugene, 1976, Peasants into Frenchmen, California, Stanford University Press.



Notes 1

English and German both belong to the Germanic family of languages. They are sister languages. The German V is pronounced in English as F. The original linguistic source is the same. They are cognate words. – Personal communication Dr. K. M. Tiwary, an eminent linguist and former professor of English, Department of English, Patna University.

CHAPTER TWO MUNDUM: A CASE STUDY OF CHINTANG RITUAL LANGUAGE ICHCHHA PURNA RAI , BALTHASAR BICKEL, ELENA LIEVEN, GOMA BANJADE, MARTIN GAENSZLE, MANOJ RAI , NETRA PRASAD PAUDYAL, NOVEL KISHORE RAI, SABINE STOLL AND TOYA NATH BHATTA

1. The mundum The mundum is the oral tradition among the Kiratis in east Nepal, and it is also a long-standing, and ancient, though not unchanging, ritual practice. But it is very difficult to say what the mundum is exactly. There are many issues about the mundum which so far have remained untouched by systematic and scientific publications. However, there are a few groundbreaking studies namely Allen 1978, Gaenszle 2002 – and the present paper follows along these lines. The concept of the mundum can be illustrated by the famous story of the blind and the elephant. In the story there are some blind people who touched an elephant. Each of them touched different parts of the elephant and claimed that the elephant was a rope, a trunk of a tree, and winnowing tray (nanglo), when they touched the tail, leg and ear respectively. Similarly, the mundum is very varied because there are many versions. Nobody can easily say that the mundum is exactly this or that. When anybody studies the mundum in a particular community, clan, etc., he/she is only able to touch either the leg or tail or ear. So, conceptualizing the mundum adequately, we need to study it in a comparative perspective. But this is a difficult task and remains to be done. The term mundum is generally pronounced as mundhum by Nepali speakers. Many researchers have documented the term mundhum in their research. The /dh/ sound in mundhum is not found in many Kirati languages. If it is

Mundum: A Case Study of Chintang Ritual Language

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found in other Kirati languages, it often is a loan sound. The term mundhum thus might be of Nepali influence. So, the native term is mundum. In this case, the term mundum changes into the mundhum because the alveolar is changed into the dental aspirated /dh/ because it might be the influence of the Nepali language. Although, the concept is the same, the term mundum has different variants among different groups of Kiratis. Gaenszle (2002: 40-42), who has done pioneering work in the field of Kirati ritual, has extensively studied about it and collected different terms, which are as follows: mundum muddum / mu dum muntum mindum mukdum ridum dum la diumla -pe-lam - t mr

Chintang, Bantawa, Belhare Mewahang, Bantawa Yakkha Yamphu Sunuwar Kulung Chamling Thulung Lohorung Khaling (B.K. Rai 2005)

The term mundum can be glossed as 'oral tradition', 'ancestral knowledge', or - more generally - 'traditional way of life' (Gaenszle 2002: 31). In this way, its major feature is orality, which is a unique characteristic of the mundum as a whole. However, the mundum is interpreted by scholars in a number of ways. The word Mundhum means the power of great strength and the Kirat people of east Nepal take it to be a true, holy and a powerful scripture. (Chemjong 2003).

In his interpretation, the term mundum (documented as the mundhum) refers to the strong power of the Kirati's ‘holy scripture’. But the mundum is not a scripture because it is neither the holy writings of a religion nor a holy book. It is only an oral tradition. Similarly, Chemjong writes about the two parts of the (Limbu) mundum, namely the Thungsap and the Peysap. The Thungsap is the oral tradition one and the term Peysap refers to the written books about religion (Chemjong 2003). This interpretation is problematic because only among the Limbu

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Chapter Two

there is – since relatively recently – a script. Among the Rai the mundum is not divided in an oral and a written section but it comes only in oral form, performed by knowledgeable elders spontaneously. So, it is a wrong generalisation to divide the mundum into oral and written traditions. Its original form is that of oral practice.

1.1. The mundum language Normally, language is, no doubt, used as a means to an end. No language is superior and inferior to others in terms of its functions, but languages are made inferior and superior to each other by language ideologies, e.g. a governments’ policy. The language used among human beings is called human language or language only. Similarly, the language which is used to address the superhuman beings (gods/deities/ancestors) is often called a divine language (e.g Skt. deva-bhƗsƗ). The mundum language is also seen as a divine language, which is unlike the day to day language. It is used only for superhuman beings, like the ancestors, or special ritual ceremonies where the ancestors are evoked. The mundum language is different from the ordinary language in many respects, like the morphology of nouns, politeness register, chanting, etc. In the mundum language, archaisms can be found in nouns, but most of the verbs are ordinary. So, the nature of the mundum language is unique in comparison to the language used in ordinary communication. There are normally two types of the mundum language which are as follows:

1.1.1. Ritual language There are various types of mundum genres. Among them, the ritual genres are a major part (besides the narrative genres). The ritual language, as its name implies, is the language which is used in different kinds of rituals. It is used in the rituals for addressing the deities and ancestors and other purposes. The ritual language is chanted by ritual experts. These consist of shamans, knowledgeable elders, tribal priests, etc. In the mundum, rituals play a dominant role so the language used in the rituals also functions in a distinct manner. In Chintang, there are only few knowledgeable elder people who can chant the ritual language and perform the rituals perfectly. The ritual language is on the verge of extinction. It is because not everybody can chant the ritual language, so after one to two more generations, it may become extinct. Therefore, it needs documentation and preservation.

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Sometimes there is a confusion about the ritual language in relation to the mundum language. There is no doubt that the mundum and ritual language are closely linked. Broadly speaking, the ritual language is part of the mundum language, but if we examine more closely, we find that though all ritual language texts are part of the mundum, not all mundum texts are in ritual language. This is because the mythological narratives are part of the mundum, but recounted in ordinary language. The ritual language is called mundum language because doing the rituals is also known as doing the mundum in Chintang, although the mundum includes also things other than rituals. But it is true that the rituals and ritual language cover the major part of the mundum. When Chintang experts perform the rituals and chant the language, they designate this as mundum ihai ma ' or chanting the mundum' (mundum phalaknu N) in their language. In the ritual language, there are two types of speech. One is monologue and the other is dialogue. In the monologue, the human speakers address the superhuman deities or ancestors spontaneously. But the dialogues are different from monologic speech. They are conducted between two parties both of whom are human beings. Here, one party addresses the other party and the other party responds. This language is totally different from the ordinary language. For example, in a formal marriage, there is one ceremony which is called bagdata. In bagdata, there are two parties: one represents the bride’s side and the other side represents groom’s side. They can choose the appropriate language, Chintang or Nepali. It depends on their convenience. But they communicate in a way which is not common in ordinary speaking. The choice of words, grammar, style, symbolic meaning, and the use of metaphorical expressions makes the language different from ordinary use.

1.1.2. Shamanic language There are several types of tribal shamans. The shaman is neither a knowledgeable elder nor a priest. His role is different from these two. The shaman is different from ordinary people because only someone who is possessed by a divine being is called the shaman. When he/she is possessed by the divine being, he/she starts to tremble and chant in a special type of language. This language is called shamanic language which is different from both ordinary language and priestly ritual speech. In Kirati communities, the shaman plays a vital role.

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In Chintang, there are many kinds of shamans. They are called Nangsuba, Chambak, Taluksung, Baidang etc. They are all mediums but their respective deities and roles are different. And the language of their chanting is different and mutually unintelligible to a large extent. 1.1.2.1. Nangsuba The Nangsuba is a typical shaman in Chintang culture. When anybody starts to be possessed by the god, s/he must meditate – so it is said - in retreat for twelve years. It is believed that the Nangsuba is possessed by Budhahang’s or his son Rajdeu's (haƾ) spirit. As a Nangsuba, s/he sees everything in dreams and tries to remember in the day time. All the special knowledge is ‘given’ in dreams and s/he follows what s/he sees in the dream. It is very difficult to meditate for twelve years. After becoming a Nangsuba, s/he must follow certain rules. For example, there are rules which stipulate that Nangsubas never use shoes, eat only once a day, take bath daily, never carry any luggage in the head, etc. In Chintang, there are two types of Nangsuba. One is the Budhahang Nangsuba and the other one is the Rajdeu Nangsuba. Normally, the Nangsuba chant the mundum language and after getting possessed they do divinations as well. 1.1.2.2. Chambak The Chambak is another category of Chintang shamans which are also possessed by a deity. The Chambak also must meditate in retreat for six years after s/he is possessed by the deity. The Chambak, for his part, is related to the spirit of Budhahang's wife. Budhahang had five wives (L. Rai 2006). As a consequence, there could be five types of Chambak, but in Chintang there are in fact not five types of Chambak. One Chambak (BBR, Ban Bir Tuprihang Rai) also claims that Chambaks are linked to the spirit of Budhahang's wife (Chambak_int.0263)1. But he distinguishes only two types of Chambak. One is from Narimhang (Chambak_int.0231) and the other is from Budhahang (Chambak_int.0234). The Chambak’s task is not only to chant in the mundum language but also to act in various other roles, like diviner, healer, or leader of the death spirit (bato lagaune).

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1.1.2.3. Taluksung Taluksung is another category of shamans which is concerned with Budhahang's hunter spirit. The Taluksung also acts like the Chambak, but in Chintang his role is not as important as that of the Nangsuba and Chambak. The language chanted by the shamans (Chambak, Nangsuba, Taluksung) is called shamanic language, which is natively known as risiwa. This risiwa which is also a part of the mundum language is the language appropriate for possession. Ordinary people can't chant and understand the risiwa, even if they are knowledgeable elders. The shamanic language can only be used by shamans. In Chintang, the shamanic language is chanted by all the tribal shamans (Chambak, Nangsuba, Taluksung, etc.) in their shamanic sessions which take place during a whole night on request or during the big cultural festival, the Wadhangmi. In these shamanic sessions, the shamans tremble, i.e. get possessed, and chant the shamanic language. It is rather difficult to understand the shamanic language, in comparison to the other kinds of ritual language. The person who chants the shamanic language cannot understand it himself to a great extent. It is very difficult to study this language, because it is not easy to record it in good quality, due to the drum's or cymbal's loud sound. So, we could not understand our recordings very clearly. The people do not pay much attention to it, in comparison to the other rituals. It is believed that the shaman uses different ‘languages’ to address the deities. One may doubt whether it is possible to use a different language or not. But, it is believed that it depends on their teacher (guru) and the deities. One of us (Ichchha P. Rai) asked many shamans about the use of different languages. Many of them said that there are several types of deities. And, they use the Bhote (Tibetan) language when they call the Bhote deity and Limbu language when they call the Limbu deity. It needs further clarification. In another enquiry about the understanding and memory of the language used in the shamanic performance, they said that they cannot remember well but understand perfectly, and they can interpret a few words. They told us that all these things are given in dreams and practiced gradually. When they feel any difficulty, they can ask their teacher but it is interesting that some have no teacher.

1.2. Chintang mundum/ritual language All the data in this paper are from the ritual language. We can speak of Chintang mundum/ ritual language, though, as explained earlier, the

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mundum and ritual language are not one and the same. There are several interesting features of the mundum language. They are as follows:

1.2.1. Use of binomials The term binomial is proposed in the pioneering article by Nicholas Allen entitled ‘Sewela Puja Bintila Puja: notes on Thulung ritual language’ (1978). He uses the term binomial for a pair of ritual nouns in the Kirati rituals. On first sight, it might seem to be simply a case of reduplication or echo words, but this is not true because these words are different in many respects. Typically, binomials consist of two three-syllabic limbs, the last syllable of each limb being identical (Gaenszle 2002: 162). For example: tuplachoƾ.berichoƾ 'tip of the banana leaf' (Burhahang_01.06). This is an example of a typical binomial. Besides these, there are other types of binomials which are different from the typical binomials. All of them can be studied by the helpful system of representation introduced by Allen (1978) and further developed by Gaenszle (2002:163). The system is suited well to study the binomials morpho-semantically. These features of the nouns make the ritual language distinct.

1.2.2. Pervasive parallelism in nouns (especially binomial) In the Chintang mundum/ritual language, parallelism in nouns (binomials) is one of the most important features (Gaenszle et al. 2005). Parallelism is found on different levels of binomials, so one can speak of pervasive parallelism. There are parallel structures on different levels, namely the phonological, prosodic, morphological, syntactic and semantic. On the phonological level, phonemes and syllables play a key role as these are structured in a parallel manner. For example: 1. wa-roƾ.wa-toƾ ‘knowledgeable elder’ [Burhahang_01.26] 2. sa-du-sa.ƾa-du-sa ‘sacred meat’ [Burhahang_02.59] On the prosodic level, prosodic features play an important role in parallelism. In this case, the stress falls on the first syllable of each limb and makes it parallel in structure. For example: 3. ´so-loƭ-wa.´lam-loƭ-wa ‘calabash’ [Burhahang_01.12] 4. 'aca. 'athuƾ ‘eat and drink'[Burhahang_01.39] On the morphological level, two parallel morphemes appear as each limb’s last syllable. For example:

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5. tupla-choƾ.beri-choƾ ‘tip of the banana leaf’ [Burhahang_02.06] 6. thaƾna-n ƾ.me na-n ƾ ‘friends and relatives also’ [Burhahang_01.17] On the syntactic level, above the level of binomials, syntactically parallel structures are found. For example: 7. tupla-pheno.beri-pheno ‘spread the banana leaf’ [Burhahang_01.18] tupla phes -no beri phes -no banana.leaf stretch -NPST banana.leaf stretch -NPST 8. casumta-apuƭso.chembita-apuƭso ‘provide crops and property’ [Burhahang_02.24-25] casum ta a- puƭs -u chembi ta a- puƭs -u crops PTCL 2- produce -3P money PTCL 2- produce 3P These examples show that each limb of a binomial can take the same verb and they are syntactically parallel in structure. But here these are no longer binomials in the strict sense, but binomials turned into sentences. Semantic parallel structure is also possible. Semantics deal with the meaning aspect. The relation here is one of complementary, which can also be seen as parallel. For example: 9. poluwa.pakuwa ‘roasted and boiled’ [Burhahang_01.39] 10. aca.athuƾ ‘eat and drink’ [Burhahang_01.39]

1.2.3. Honorific form and construction Many languages of Nepal have honorific forms in pronouns which are mapped onto the verb. Though in the Chintang mundum/ritual language, there is no honorific form there is a honorific function through the use of subjunctive verb forms (Gaenszle et al.: 2005). In Chintang, the tenseless verb form is a 'subjunctive', as described by Bickel et al. (2007), following the proposal in Bickel (1996) on a parallel form in Belhare. This form represents a higher level of politeness and thus a honorific function in the Chintang ritual language. In the ritual context, instead of using a straightforward imperative (which would be intrusive), a person addresses/requests the deities in the second person (sg/d/p) using an ordinary verb in subjunctive form. For example: 11. apuƭsum [wal_yupung02.211] a- puƭs -u -m

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2- produce -3P -2nsA May you (pl) produce it (i.e. the crops).

1.2.4. High speed of incantation In the Chintang mundum/ritual, incantation speed is high in comparison to others. Incantation speed is relatively slow in other Kirati groups. The Chintang way of incantation is comparable to Sanskrit and is possibly of brahmanical influence (Gaenszle et al. 2005). For example, we can look at the texts delivered by two knowledgeable elders. In the first text, Bal Bahadur Sangpang Rai, an elder, chanted 158 words within fifty seconds (wal_yupung2). Similarly, in the second text, Dambar Bahadur Khukkhang Rai, an elder chanted approximately 216 words within a one minute and thirty nine seconds (rajdeu_2). Thus incantation speed is 3, 2 word per second in the first case, and 2, 2 words per second in the second case, which is quite impressive. Similarly, Bal Bahadur Sangpang Rai spoke approximately 60 words within the same time (fifty seconds) and Dambar Bahadur Khukkhang Rai spoke approximately 145 words in the same time (1.5 minutes). So, incantation speed is high.

1.2.5. Code mixing/switching In the Chintang mundum language, there is considerable code mixing. It can be imagined that it did not happen so much in the past. When the Nepalese government pursued a monolingual policy and promoted the Nepali language as the official language, the Nepali language became more and more widely used. As a consequence the Nepali language influenced the ritual language as well. We can see a considerable amount of Nepali terms in the Chintang mundum language. When we observed in detail the text chanted by BBS (Bal Bahadur Sangpang, tara kancha), who is a knowledgeable elder, he used 42 Nepali words in the mundum text out of 141 words [wal_yupung02; 1-28]. It constitutes approximately 30%. Thus it can be said that a considerable degree of code mixing is found in the mundum text. Similarly, in another text chanted by Chambak kancha BBR (Ban Bir Tuprihang Rai), he used 30 Nepali words out of 133 words [sud_budohang; 1-20], which constitutes approximately 23%. So, these data indicate that code mixing depends also on the speakers and varies from person to person. The former speaker is only a knowledgeable elder and not a shaman, but the latter speaker is a Chambak, a tribal shaman. In this way, there is a difference between shamans and knowledgeable elders, or shamans and shamans, or knowledgeable elders and knowledgeable elders.

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1.2.6. Used only by experts The mundum language is not the common language of communication. It is only chanted by experts. In Chintang, there are different kinds of experts (see above), namely the medium and the knowledgeable expert. Those people who are mediums are also known as shamans. Shamans see everything in dreams and thus acquire their knowledge. Then, they only deepen their knowledge with the help of a guru (teacher). Similarly, another type of expert is the knowledgeable elder who gets the knowledge through learning and practice. A knowledgeable elder is known as wattong in the terminology of Chintang. In Chintang, there are both types of experts. Nangsuba, Chambak, Taluksung are major types of mediums. They get possessed by the god/deity and tremble while playing their favourite instrument, like cymbal, drum, etc. They are, in the true sense, tribal shamans, and these are only found in Khalsa territory (i.e. in Dhankuta District), including Chintang. Similarly, wattong, or knowledgeable elders, can also chant the mundum language in most of the rituals, but not in all. A wattong is knowledgeable like the shamans, but never gets possessed. He/she never divines and heals in a shamanic session. Knowledgeable elders can chant the mundum language only while accompanying others in rituals.

1.2.7. Melody; musicality The mundum language is full of melody. This language possesses a certain kind of musicality but it remains rather stable in rhythm. Pitch and intonation play a crucial role in chanting. The music found in the mundum language is quite unique and rare, but it remains to be studied in detail. It is totally different from modern music. It is traditional tribal music and used only in the context of mundum rituals. In the Chintang mundum language, the tune of the music is so fast that it is not comparable to other Kiratis’ mundum language. The question may be raised why mundum language is so melodious and why it uses a certain melody. There are reasons behind it. The nature and structures of the mundum language, especially the architecture of binomials, make it rhythmic, melodious and poetic. The music of the mundum language is an important issue and a potentially fruitful object of study for ethnomusicologists.

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1.2.8. Expression of totality The mundum language also expresses a certain totality of culture. It governs people’s life and ties everything together. Nobody among the Kiratis can live without the mundum and go against it, so it also is a kind of moral control. The mundum language governs everything which is found in human life, because it is the language of the ancestors, and it is also the means to communicate with people and address the ancestors. The mundum addresses every aspect of human life, and so it expresses a totality. To control this totality means power. It is believed that the mundum embodies a special type of power, which is very strong and pervasive in nature.

1.2.9. Interesting feature in nouns rather than verbs In Kirati languages, the verbal system is very complicated. The verbal morphology is a rather complex affair in comparison to other languages. Prefixes and suffixes found in Kirati languages are numerous. Moreover, in the Chintang language, free prefix ordering is a most interesting feature, which is rare among the languages of the world (Bickel et al. 2007). On the contrary, the mundum language is different from the ordinary language in the sense that nouns found in the mundum language are more interesting and complex than the verbs. The verbs found in the mundum language are simple and frequently verbs are similar to the ordinary language. But, nouns in the mundum language are more archaic in nature, which make the mundum language more distinct. Besides the binomials, nouns are interesting also in terms of other aspects. In the nouns, code mixing is an important feature. In the mundum/ritual nouns, codes are derived from different sources like the Chintang ordinary language, the Nepali language, and Maithili (in a few cases), etc. Moreover, nouns are interesting typologically. There are Nepali single nouns, Nepali binomials, Chintang ordinary single nouns, Chintang binomials, ritual single names, true ritual binomials, mulitinomials, etc. In this way, in the mundum language, nouns are an interesting and challenging issue.

1.2.10. Certain vocatives (opening and closing) In the mundum texts, there is a certain vocative term through which any text is opened or started. In Chintang, though there is no uniformity in opening and closing, the majority of people use similar terms, which can be taken as

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the style of the Chintang ritual language and can be taken as a property of the Chintang ritual language. The opening term which is used by the majority of performers is he! parmeswora or 'Oh, Lord'. Here, the term he! is a vocative case which is probably borrowed from the Nepali language, and the other term parmeswora is also borrowed from the Nepali language, and means ‘Lord’. These two terms are used to address the deities or ancestors. Similarly, the closing term is also predictable. The majority of people use terms like satte khane o baba ‘may there be truth, o Lord!’ Here, satte is a Nepali word which means ‘truth’. Similarly, khane consists of two terms kha which is a copula and =ne, which is an optative clitic. Here, o is the vocative case. The last term baba is a Nepali word which means 'Lord' (as in senior). In this way, there are predictable terms for opening and closing the ritual texts.

1.3. Conclusion The mundum is the oral and ritual tradition of the Kiratis, the indigenous inhabitants of east Nepal, and it has been transmitted since countless generations from their ancestors. It controls the cultural life of the people in its totality. The interesting thing observed here is that the mundum has its own separate language which is chanted only by ritual experts. It is a divine language so speaking it requires a special competence. There are many features which make the ritual language distinct from the ordinary language. Among these are the structure of nouns, especially the structure of binomials, chanting style, etc. In the mundum/ritual language, the binomial form of nouns is a very interesting phenomenon. Binomials are a basic unit in the pervasive parallelism of ritual speech. Linguistic parallelism is found on different levels, like phonology, prosody, morphology, syntax and semantics. This parallelism makes the language more melodious and poetic. Moreover, the musical aspect of the mundum language is an interesting field for ethnomusicologists which is yet to be studied in detail. The verbal forms are not of equal significance but they are interesting in their subjunctive use. Normally, the agent is 3sg/d/p (in most cases singular), i.e. the client of the performer, and address the 2 sg/d/p (in most case singular). In the ritual context, a tenseless verb functions as the honorific form. This is what is named 'subjunctive' by Bickel et al. 2007. So, there is no grammaticalized honorific form, as found in other languages, but in the mundum/ritual language, the subjunctive is used in a honorific function.

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Similarly, the incantation speed is distinct from other Kirati groups. Recitation is slow in many other groups but fast in the Chintang group. It has a certain resemblance to the common style of Sanskrit recitation. Code mixing with other languages like the ordinary Chintang language and Nepali, Sanskrit, Maithili, etc. is found in the mundum/ritual language to a considerable degree. This shows that the originality of the mundum language is under threat by more powerful languages. So it is urgent to document this tradition, which may no longer exist in the days to come. Finally, this secret language reinforces a particular identity, that of the Kiratis, a significant group in Nepal and is a pointer to how language underpins both devotion and citizenship.

References Allen, Nicholas J., 1978, ‘Sewela Puja Bintila Puja: Notes on Thulung Ritual Language’, Kailash 6 (4): 237-256. Bickel, Balthasar et al. 2007, Free Prefix Ordering in Chintang Language 83; 43-73. —. 1996, Aspect, Mood and Tense in Belhare, Studies in the SemanticsPragmatics Interface of a Himalayan Language. University of Zurich. Zurich. Dimock, Edward C. et al, 1992, Dimensions of Sociolinguistics in South Asia. Oxford, New Delhi. Gaenszle, Martin et al 2005, ‘Worshiping the king god: a preliminary analysis of Chintang ritual language in the invocation of Rajdeu’, Contemporary issues in Nepalese Linguistics, LSN: 33-40. — . 2002, Ancestral Voices: oral ritual texts and their social contexts among the Mewahang Rai of East Nepal. LIT. —. 2000, Origins and migrations: kinship, mythology and ethnic identity among the Mewahang Rai of East Nepal, Mandala Book Point , Kathmandu. Malkiel, Y., 1959, ‘Studies in Irreversible Binomials’, Lingua 8: 113-160. Rai, B.K., 2005. Khyal Tamra (Khaling Mundum). Jana Chetana Samudayik Sanstha, Basa, Solukhombu. Rai, Lokendra, 2006, Chintang Sanskriti ra Jalpadevi (Chintang culture and the Jalpadevi). Chintang Puma Documentation Project. Rai, Novel Kishore 2005, ‘Triplication and Ideophones in Chintang’, Contemporary issues in Nepalese Linguistics, LSN: 205-210. —. 1985, ‘A Descriptive Grammar of Banawa’, Unpublished Ph.D. Thesis. University of Poona, India.

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—. 1984, ‘Reduplication in Bantawa’, Contribution to Nepalese Study, CNAS, Tribhuvan University, Kirtipur, Nepal.



Notes 1

These codes refer to sessions from our corpus. All data is available at www.mpi.nl/dobes

CHAPTER THREE ANIMISM AND MYTHOLOGY: REFLECTIONS OF HUMAN ESSENCE KHURAM RAFIQUE

Humans happen to have two different types of life. The first one is their ‘physical’ life and humans are not unique in this world in having this form of life. Obviously, other animals also possess this type of life. The real distinction or uniqueness of humans in this world is that they have a second form of life, which is their ‘mental’ life. Human needs are not restricted to just food, clothing, and housing among others. These needs relate only to the ‘physical’ life aspect of them. Because they have a ‘mental’ life, humans need to get ‘theoretical explanations’ of whatever they observe in their surrounding environment. They need to get some theoretical understanding of their environment, their own selves, about the world, about the universe, about their own relationship with the universe, about their own purpose or role in this universe, about the role of universe for them and so on, from the time of their first ‘conscious’ life in this world. Presently, humans possess mainly two types of ‘theoretical understanding’ of the above-mentioned phenomena. They can be classed into (i) divine explanations and; (ii) human explanations. The latter are self made and are constituted through experience. Many religions claim that God himself conveyed the theoretical basis of the true religion to humanity. The rest of theoretical knowledge can be said to be man made. The nature and historical development of manmade theoretical knowledge is the subject matter of this article. It is not intended here to discuss controversial claims or issues relating to different religions. Humans always want a theoretical ‘explanation’ of whatever phenomena they observe because they are rational beings in character and essence. It should be considered that as opposite to existentialist philosophy, human

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‘essence’ really comes first, and thus humans feel the need of ‘theoretical explanations’ of observed phenomena. Because of this ‘essence’ humans want to make ‘choices’. A detailed anthropological study of the various rituals, customs and magical practices of ancient human societies reveal that human behaviour has certain set patterns. A raw and ignorant human society tends to develop animistic beliefs and is inclined to find solutions to practical problems in different types of magical practices. Sir James Frazer, in his renowned work The Golden Bough, has even found some basic patterns in different magical practices. According to him, all magical practices can be classified into any of three basic forms which are: (i) similarity based magic, (ii) context based magic and; (iii) a blend or mixture of similarity and context based magic. Given that magical practices are those solutions to practical problems which all early human societies follow, and further given that all forms of magical practices share just a few basic patterns, it means that basic human behaviour and conduct, or even humanity’s thinking styles have given patterns. We can confidently conclude now that humans possess a given ‘essence’ and all human thinking, behaviour and conduct has to be determined by that particular essence. In this way, anthropological analysis goes against the popular notion of existentialist philosophy which asserts that human ‘existence’ precedes ‘essence’. Anthropological analysis suggests that it is not correct to say that humans are free to make their own ‘essence’. Human choices have limited patterns and only the presence of a particular human essence can rightly account for those limited patterns of choices. Humans can ‘explain’ phenomena only on the basis of (i) whatever information (even if incomplete or incorrect) they already possess and (ii) what ‘approach’ they follow in the process of making interpretations of already possessed information. This is another ‘pattern’ of human performance and I shall elaborate on this point later on. Thus humans, due to their particular essence, always tend to explain not only the material world which they observe, they also tend to explain their own feelings, emotions, thinking, imagination, dreams and so on. Here, we can refer to the material world as the ‘external world’ and those feelings, emotions etc. as the ‘internal world’. I have already stated that humans can explain things only on the basis of whatever information they already posses and by following a particular approach for the interpretation of that already possessed information. In

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anthropology, these ‘approaches’ are generally classified as: 1- animism 2mythology 3- religion 4- philosophy and 5- science

Animism This happens to be the earliest approach of looking at various matters when humans were in the early stages of their conscious life. They might have developed some incorrect explanations of their material world using whatever limited information they possessed in those days. They also might have encountered quite strange things, such as dream phenomena, which removed them from their ordinary settings. For example, although they slept, let us say, in caves but during sleep time, i.e. in dreams, they could find themselves in jungles, or they could meet their dead relatives and so on. To form some of the explanations of material things might not have posed much of a problem to them but the fact that they slept in cave a and yet also wandered about in jungles, or the fact that they could meet their dead relatives who had ‘passed on to the other side’, must have been difficult for them to explain. Keeping in view the type of information they possessed in those early days, they might have reached the ‘rational’ conclusion that there was the presence of ‘something’ inside the human body which could separate from the body during sleep and could come back when awakened. Also, those early humans might have noticed that their life was dependent upon breathing. They noticed that when this chain of breath stopped, the human died. So they would have reconciled this chain of breath with that ‘something’ which could leave their body during sleep and could come back when awakened and they would have called it the ‘spirit’. That ‘spirit’ finally became a real object for them. It is also important to consider that to properly distinguish between the ‘internal’ and ‘external’ worlds might have been near impossible for those early humans because of the limited information they possessed in those days. Even today tribesmen and children make no difference between their ‘internal’ and ‘external’ worlds. Children really think that external world events are dependent on their own thinking and emotions and so they believe that their own thoughts and feelings can affect the physical world. When some event does not occur as per their emotional feelings, they cry and weep. Children also tend to think that toys are alive just like them. So they clothe them and ‘marry’ them. Similarly, ancient humans considered lifeless objects as conscious in the same way as themselves and believed that these lifeless objects also ‘felt’ and that they also had ‘emotions’.

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Those ancient humans could not differentiate between external, internal, objective and/ or psychological factors or things. These objective conditions resulted in the emergence of animism, which is a belief in ‘spirits’; the notion that lifeless objects also possessed ‘spirits’ and that external world events occurred as per the will of those ‘spirits’. Animism was the first ever attempt of humans to get themselves ‘theoretically’ and ‘emotionally’ related to the universe and this belief has had a great impact on the future evolution of humans. We should note that from early history to the present time, humans have tried to ‘control’ external world events using their own emotions and feelings. When a small child sincerely believes that events must unfold according to his/ her own emotional desire, it is taken as just a case of ‘innocence’ in that small child. There is a common notion of the ‘children’s world’ (There was a children’s digest also with this title — I used to study it in my childhood). What is this ‘children’s world’? How it is different from the ‘real world’? The ‘children’s world’ is actually a way in which the child identifies the relationship between his/ her ‘internal’ and ‘external’ worlds. For a child, the external world is filled by his/ her own emotional objects such as fairies, ghosts, handsome and kind princes and beautiful princesses and so on. Similarly, for a child, the external world events must depend on his/ her own emotional (innocent) feelings. For example, in my childhood, as I can remember even now, I used to think, ‘Kal school se chutti ho gi – just because I wanted this’ (tomorrow shall be holiday, just because I wanted it so!). This ‘children’s world’ approach should be differentiated with the ‘realistic’ approach, where a ‘realist’ person clearly identifies the difference between the internal and external worlds and he/ she knows that events of the external world are dependent on rigid and constant laws of nature i.e. the physical world is not dependent on his/ her own thoughts or ideas. Here we must keep in mind that ideas do have an impact on the external world but only in a realistic sense. For example a person first conceives the idea of doing some business. Then he realistically translates that idea into reality and thus affects the events of the external world. Children of our era normally come out of the ‘children’s world’ not just because they grow up. They come out of the ‘children’s world’ due to the fact that they have been provided with a sufficient education and because they have got the experience of living in a realistic society. If a child is not

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given proper education or if s/he does not get the experience of living in a realistic society, he/ she will continue living in that ‘children’s world’ throughout his/ her life. S/he cannot become ‘realistic’ by her/himself. Now consider those ancient humans who were in the initial stages of selfconsciousness. They, just like children, believed that the entire world was filled up by their own emotional object, which was the ‘spirit’. And what they could understand of external world events was just that those events must be dependent on their own emotional feelings. When a small child tries to ‘control’ the external world events by just his/ her emotional desires, we call it ‘innocent’ behavior. But when grown up people develop some formal method using which they suppose themselves able to control the external world events as per their own emotional desires, we call this ‘strategy’ or ‘magic’ or witchcraft. I will try to explain this ‘magical’ approach by differentiating it with the ‘realistic’ approach. Suppose a ‘realistic’ person wants to kill his enemy. What he shall do? The most direct method would be to get a gun, then to go to that enemy and then to shoot him with that gun. The enemy would die in this way. What a magician would do? A real and prevalent practice for doing this task is something like this: the magician makes a small statue of the enemy. Then s/he digs in many needles in the body of statue. In this way the magician supposes that real enemy shall die. Although it is quite an unrealistic way of killing the enemy i.e. by just using a formal method to effectively utilize the ‘powers’ of one’s own emotional desires, if the enemy happens to be a superstitious person and if he also has been informed in some indirect way that the magician has done this with his statue, that enemy may really die in this case. S/he would die because of psychological reasons and not because of any real effectiveness of that magical method. Humans always have tried to control the flow of external world events using the ‘powers’ of their own emotional desires. So this ‘magic’ is still prevalent, mostly in the vast lower strata of about every present day human society. This ‘magic’ seems to be more ancient than animism itself. People have been trying to control external world events by using their own emotional desires without using any formal method i.e. just like an innocent child. But, with the emergence of animism, the role of ‘spirits’ entered into this magic. Magic took another shape. Now spirits were classified into two categories i.e. (i) evil spirits and; (ii) good spirits. Now the role of the magician was to call for ‘evil spirits’ for such purposes as to destroy

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enemies and to call for ‘good spirits’ with the purpose of providing help to friends. This magic however had a great role in the evolution of present day science. Both magic and science have a similar purpose, i.e. to control the flow of external world events in the desired way. The only difference is that magic offers certain ‘unscientific’ methods for this purpose, which now have been proved to be wrong whereas science offers realizable and hence realistic methods for this purpose. The emergence of modern science however would have been quite impossible if humans had not tried to control external world events using magic. The many failings of the magical method led ‘clever’ people to try to find some realistic methods for control. And remember that these realistic methods are now known as ‘science’.

Mythology I have discussed animism in detail because animism happens to be the basis of most of mythology. It is clear that for ancient humans, the entire world was filled by their own emotional object i.e. ‘spirit’. With the passage of time, as a result of many social interactions, many ‘stories’ about those ‘spirits’ emerged. Some of the spirits were appointed as chiefs of the rest of spirits. Later on those chiefs became the gods and goddesses. Those stories were aimed at the satisfaction of the human need for theoretical explanations about the formation and structure of the universe. These stories, which are now known as ‘myths’ or ‘mythology’, described, in captivating ways, the role of various gods and goddesses in the formation and daily functioning of the universe. Those ancient humans kept a blind faith in those myths and they did not doubt in the truth of those stories. It has been mentioned that humans can ‘explain’ any observed phenomenon only on the basis of (i) whatever information (may be even incomplete or incorrect) they already possess and; (ii) what ‘approach’ they follow in the process of making interpretations of already possessed information. At the end of this article, it seems appropriate to explain the process of making interpretations on the basis of already possessed (may be even right or wrong) information and then re-interpretation of the same phenomenon on the basis of better or right information that may emerge in the course of history. Humans, using their intellect and wisdom, can explain the observed or identified phenomena but this is subject to a very important limitation. The

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limitation is that they can explain the identified phenomena only on the basis of whatever (limited or even incorrect) information they already possess. But afterwards, whenever any new information comes to their notice, humans then become able to re-explain the same natural phenomena on the basis of this new and increased stock of information. This new explanation, which is based on an increased stock of information shall usually be superior to the previous explanation of the same identified phenomena because that previous explanation was based on lesser or inferior information. The process of making explanations of identified phenomena on the basis of whatever available information and then the re-explanation of the same identified phenomenon, but on the basis of an increased stock of information, can be described with the help of an example. In historical times, early humans identified a natural phenomenon. The sun rose daily in the east and set in the west. Since they were rational beings they needed to explain this identified phenomenon. They had to find the answer to the question: ‘why and how does the sun daily rise in the east and then set in the west?’ Surely, those early humans had to explain this phenomenon on the basis of whatever limited and inferior information they possessed in those early times. Those ancient humans did not know that the earth where they lived was spherical in shape. They could see only the flat surface of the earth. They never had seen the ‘edges’ of their ‘flat’ earth. So according to this available information, the earth was ‘flat’ whose ‘edges’ might be located at some unreachable distance. So this was the ‘available’ information on the basis of which our ancient forefathers had to find the answer to the question why the sun rises daily in the east and then sets in the west. Experts of ancient history tell us that despite some other types of mythological interpretations, one of the early attempts of humans to find the rational answer to this question was something like that it was thought that every day a ‘new’ sun came from the unreachable eastern corner of the flat earth and then went on to the western corner. The same thing, it was thought, happened on a daily basis. This can be considered to be an example of the explanation of identified phenomenon on the basis of available information. Now come to see the example of re-explanation of the identified phenomenon on the basis of ‘increased’ stock of information. The related information was updated in this case when humans came to know that the earth, on which they lived, was a large spherical object in fact. This

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happenned when some wise people took notice of such rarely observed things as (i) at the time of a lunar eclipse, the earth casts its curved shadow upon the moon, (ii) during the course of a journey in an open sea towards the extreme south, some of the constellations in the northern sky disappear whereas some new ones appear in the southern sky and (iii) the things which fall towards the earth seem to be falling towards a common center. On the basis of these tantalizing observations it was concluded, after all, that our earth in fact is a large spherical object. Now on the basis of this new information in hand, humans became able to re-explain the above described phenomenon that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west on a daily basis. That re-explanation was that the ‘same’ sun circles around the earth. This explanation was better than before but still it was not correct. With the passage of time, a time was reached when still better information came to the notice of humans and they again re-explained this phenomenon accordingly. Thus the ability of humans of making theoretical interpretations of observed or identified phenomena is also patterned. The pattern is that humans can explain or interpret identified phenomenon subject to the limitations that they have to explain the phenomenon only on the basis of whatever information they already possess. The quantity, quality and accuracy-level of already possessed information determines the type and accuracy-level of the interpretation. Humanity’s basic thinking, behaviour and conduct are all patterned. It means that humans possess a particular ‘essence’. All the animism, mythology or even philosophies and sciences, therefore, can be considered to be reflections of the human essence. How this essence translates into cohesive and collective action, and ultimately into the active universal citizen, is a matter of further enquiry.

CHAPTER FOUR RELIGION AMONG THE TRIBES OF MALABAR: A SYMBIOSIS OF HUMAN NATURESUPERNATURAL RELATIONSHIP S. GREGORY

I There is no society in the world that exists without some form of religion. According to Jung, it is an essential feature of human life without which the attainment of full integration of the human personality is not possible (Majumdar and Madan, 1956:152). Several social scientists have attempted to understand the phenomenon of religion. In Miller’s view, religion is always born of human experience, and is grounded in a reality that is human, not divine (1979: 190). In the view of Geertz (1968: 406), religion tunes human actions to the view of the cosmic order and projects images of cosmic order onto the plane of human existence. While Marx conceived religion as a dangerous distorter of truth, Durkheim considered religion as humanity’s highest cultural good (Gregory, 2006). There have been four basic approaches to the study of religion namely, the evolutionist approach, psychological approach, sociological approach and symbolic approach (Geertz, 1968). According to the evolutionist approach, mainly represented by E B Tylor and James Frazer, among others, all human practices including those of religion, are only at different stages in a historic continuum. From this perspective, the practices of the so-called ‘primitive’ peoples were only survivals of our ancestors, and the so-called ‘advanced civilisations’ were the pinnacle of rationality and development. On the other hand, Freud, the primary representative of the psychological approach, considered the ‘primitive’ religious practices and beliefs as expressions of neurotic and even psychotic impulses, which well adjusted individuals were able to overcome through a normal growth processes. Different from both

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these approaches are the other two approaches, which focused on the comparative analysis of the role of religion in human life. In sociology, mainly in the works of Emile Durkheim, religion was seen both as an expression of the cultural whole and its world view, on the one hand, and as a mediator in the individual’s relationship to his or her society on the other. Supplementing the above approach was the symbolic approach, exemplified by the theoretical contributions of Levi Strauss and Geertz, which considered religion as one of the sets of symbols, used in human societies, providing the conceptual model of reality within which the members of a society find meaning. While each one of these orientations provides a framework of analysis and understanding, none of these provides a total framework to discuss the phenomenon of religion (Miller, 1979: 28687). However, in spite of having been a subject of endless discussion and theoretical deliberation, no one was able to arrive at a comprehensive understanding of what exactly religion is. Hence, Murphy (1989:188) calls religion as ‘a bit of an enigma’. There is a growing agreement today that the so-called ‘primitive’ religion is no less rich in forms of worship than in ideas of philosophy. Hence, activities that are classified as religious are universal from the simplest societies to those of the industrial world (ibid: 187). Tribal religion has long been described as animistic. Animals, plants, trees, rivers, stones, hills, or mountains are all abodes of spirits. Worship of nature is another form of belief which prevails among tribal peoples. The whole neighbourhood, whether village or forest in which the tribal people live, is full of spirits. Sun, moon, and earth are considered the creator or supreme power. Every religious festival includes appropriate dances, songs, and stories reflecting the mythology of the people (Gregory, 2005). This essay highlights the features of the various aspects of tribal religion as discerned among the three major tribes of Malabar, Kerala, India, namely the Kattunaikkans, the Paniyans and the Kurichians, who are mainly found in Wayanad and in the adjacent districts in Kerala, manifesting a symbiosis within the human-nature-supernatural paradigm.

II In the Malabar region of Kerala, which stretches from Kasargod district to Palakkad district, there are 29 tribal communities in all, which are included under the 26 scheduled tribes of Kerala (Gregory, 2007: 157). Of these,

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three important tribes, namely the Kattunaikkans, the Paniyans, and the Kurichians, are considered here to get an understanding of tribal religion within their respective world views. Kattunaikkan is numerically the most dominant tribal group (65%) among the five communities that have been recognised as Primitive Tribal Groups (PTGs) in Kerala. The name ‘Kattunaikkan’ implies that they are the leaders (Naayakans) of the forest (kaadu). Traditionally, a hunting and gathering community, who had also been later engaged in shifting cultivation, a majority of them today are agricultural labourers and collectors of NonTimber Forest Produce (NTFP). They speak a dialect, which is more akin to Kannada, indicating that they must have been immigrants from Karnataka. The Jenu Kurumas and the Thenu Kurumbas are believed to be their kinsmen in Karnataka and Tamil Nadu respectively. The Paniyan, with a population of a little more than one fifth of the total Scheduled Tribe population in the state, is the predominant tribal community in Kerala. According to Guha, the Paniyans are Proto-Austroloids. They believe that they have come from Ippimala, a mountain near the Banasura Peak in Wayanad, and so they call themselves as ‘Ippimala makkal’ (the children of Ippimala). Etymologically, the term ‘Paniyan’ means ‘one who works’. Traditionally, settled in the drier parts of their master’s estate along the fringes of the wet paddy fields, almost 85 % of the workers among the Paniyans are engaged today as agricultural labourers. The Kurichian, constituting about 9% of the state’s total tribal population, is the second largest tribal community in Kerala. They have typical Dravidian features. Having an enviable tradition to their credit, they are believed to be one of the earliest immigrant agricultural tribes to settle in Wayanad. Traditionally, they were engaged in hunting and gathering and shifting cultivation. As they are known as skilled hunters, Pazhassi Raja, in his battle against the British, raised an army of the Kurichians, who fought as guerrillas with their bows and arrows, and many of them sacrificed their lives in the battle against the British. Today, there are as many agricultural labourers among them as cultivators, though it was alien to them in the past. They have been widely known for their concept of pollution (Vedic concepts of purity/pollution, denoting what or who is acceptable-ed). There is a kind of separation observed today between the Kannavam Kurichians of Kannur, and the Wayanadan Kurichians, each of whom consider the other as inferior and polluted.

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All these three tribal communities, being unique in their own ways, and at the same time dwelling in a similar habitat and environment, would be interesting for a study of their religious beliefs and practices.

III Myths and legends are of great value to understand the particular world view of any religion and especially in the case of tribal peoples. Myths guide their religious minds and give sanction to their activities. The tribal people of Malabar have a rich stock of tribal myths and legends, which explain the origin of their existence, their relationship with different spirits and deities as well as their close association with forest and nature. The clan, the place, the village, all have something mythological behind them. One of the myths popular among the Kattunaikkans is that of the bear, the buruda (a dried fruit of a plant) and their progeny. According to the myth, a bear climbing on a hill came across a buruda and carried it on his shoulders. As he reached the top of the hill, he became so tired that he fell upon a stone, breaking the buruda into pieces. There now appeared a beautiful girl with whom he was enchanted, he nurtured her with all the good things available in the forest, and took care of her with great care and concern. They had children and lived a happy life, which came to an end when a few men, claiming to be her brothers, killed the bear and took her away along with her children. This myth dramatically narrates the story of their probable origin and their close affinity with nature, which is personified in the form of the bear and the buruda, the latter assuming a high significance as a sacred object in the religious performance of the Kattunaikkans. The myth also explains the social divisions based on totemic association and clanship. The Paniyans also possess a rich tradition of myths related to various aspects of life including their origin and the formation of settlements. These include the famous sibling myth and the Kottiyur Ambalam (temple) myth. According to the sibling myth, a boy and a girl who were trapped and brought up by the Kottayam Thamburan were advised, when they attained maturity, by the Thamburan to live as ‘brother and sister above the waist, and husband and wife below’. The descendants of these siblings were doomed to become slaves and came to be known as Paniyans. In the Kottiyur ambalam myth, the rock or stone is the key element, which they came across as possessing supernatural powers during their hunting expedition, and started worshipping it, dedicating it to Kottiyur Perumal, which later became popular as the Kottiyur temple. The significance of

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stones in their life is evident from the personification of their deities and ancestral spirits in the form of stones and pebbles. Both these myths relate to their history as well as their association with and reverence towards nature. According to one of the legends, popular among the Kurichians, their descent is traced to one set of progeny of the Karivellen Nair from south Kerala. According to this legend, which has a mixture of earthly kingdoms and divine intervention, those who proceeded towards the forest had been named as Kurichians, and those proceeded towards the Arabian sea were named as Mukkuvans by the thaduathanda Muthappan, under the order of Malandeivam (the deity of the hills), as requested by the kings of Kadathanad and Praatanad. Since the Kurichians lived by forest produce and fresh water fishes, they considered themselves high, while the Mukkuvans, having no restrictions regarding food, were treated as untouchables, which later had been extended to all the non-Kurichians. Another story takes them to the days of Sri Rama, when a group of soldiers accompanied him in his search for Sita and having lost their way, became the inhabitants of the forest.

IV Spirit worship, which is known as animism, along with nature worship and ancestor worship, is most common with tribal people, and generally considered as a universal feature of tribal religion. The tribes believe in four categories of spirits, mainly based on their pattern of relationship with the humans. They are protective spirits, benevolent spirits, malevolent spirits, and ancestral spirits. The major spirits of the tribes are benevolent. The tribes believe that they are present everywhere in the shape of an animal or tree or stone or stream or mountain etc. They are worshipped regularly at the village and family levels, failing which they change their role and bring in diseases, death, failure of crops, accidents, calamities etc. for the village or the family concerned. The ancestral spirits are conceived by the tribes essentially as benevolent spirits. They may come in dreams or through sacred specialists of the community or the village, who communicate the desire of the dead ancestors. For the Kattunaikkans, the whole of nature is divine. Their religious expressions reveal a reverential obeisance and ritual submission to the powers of nature which include mountains, trees, animals, birds etc. The ancestors of different social divisions of Kattunaikkans emerge as supernatural powers, attached to different hills, rivers, and other natural

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elements, which they call malamuthans (ancestors who have become the deities of the hills). The mountains and hills like Banasura, Kavana, Balara, are considered as the abode of their chief deities. They also worship the sun and moon. The worship of Kattunaikkans is mainly concerned with invoking their malamuthans, this is known as ‘deivathe vilikkal’ (calling the divine). They invoke them and give offerings before going to the forest for the collection of honey. Though usually all the malamuthans are called at the time of worship, there are also specific functions attached to certain malamuthans as in the case of Balara Kiriyathan who, they believe, can bring in rain in summer. They also have different myths to trace their relationship with different malamuthans. The Kattunaikkans strongly believe that they have to please their muthans (ancestors) if they have to be free from problems, misfortunes, and diseases. If someone falls sick, muthans are consulted through ‘deivathe vilikkal’. The offerings generally include honey, betel leaves, areca nut, coconut rice etc. Worship of nature and of ancestral spirits is important in the life of the Paniyans. The religious expressions of the Paniyans reveal their reverential attribute to the powers of nature including trees, animals, rocks etc. The Paniyans show special attachment to their ancestral gods. They believe that their ancestral gods possess a natural but superhuman power. They are represented in the form of pebbles, and they reside in the deivapura (the abode of the deity) of the settlement. Pulikkadavu, the traditional deity of the Paniyans, is one of their ancestral gods, sure to be found in the Paniyan’s sacred centres, in the form of a stone. The other gods and goddesses of the Paniyans include Guligan along with the infiltration of many Hindu deities like Siva, Parvathi, Muthappan, Aiyappan etc. The supreme deity of the Kurichians is known as Malakkaari, whom they conceive as none other than Siva himself in the form of a hunter. The ancestor spirits of Kurichians are known as negal who are considered to be their protectors. Whenever they encounter any kind of unsolvable problem, they invoke the ancestor, the nega, for a solution. On the occasions of births and marriages the ancestral spirits are offered meat and toddy (local drinked). Ancestral spirits, who are elevated to the status of deity, are called as muthappan. Thaduthanda Muthappan is one such deity. Other major deities include Pothi (Baghavathi), Naayaattu Deivam (hunting deity), and Sri Muthappan, the popular deity in Malabar, who is considered as the incarnation of Mahavishnu.

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Today, the range of the sacred pantheon of every tribal community has been expanding, with the addition of more and more Hindu deities. Such a change is also significantly altering their worldview. This is true in the case of all the three tribes discussed in the paper. Visits to Hindu pilgrim centres is becoming part of their sacred complex of ritual and belief. In the course of time, it will not be surprising if the entire sacred complex becomes hinduised with no role ascribed to the traditional deities. Of these three tribes, the Kurichians are the most hinduised. Many of the Hindu deities like Muthappan, Lord Siva, and Parvathi are worshipped by them. Malakkari too, has become hinduised as an incarnation of Lord Siva.

V The tribal people also believe in different kinds of ritualistic prohibitions called taboos, which are generally related to the concepts of purity and pollution. Most of these relate to different lifecycle rituals such as birth, puberty, menstruation, and death. Among the Kattunaikkans, for instance, the birth pollution lasts for seven days. When a girl attains puberty, she is kept in isolation for fifteen days in a separately and specially constructed permanent shed, outside the house, which is called gudamana. At the time of menstruation, the menstrual woman observes seclusion for a period of seven days, to avoid pollution, during which time the woman resides in gumman-mana. Death pollution is observed for seven days. Similarly, there are also some food-taboos observed on specific occasions. It was a taboo for the Kattunaikkans, until the recent past, to consume food or water outside, including from restaurants. For them, the Pulayans, Muslims, and Christians are polluting castes. If a Kattunaikkan happened to pass through a butcher’s shop, he had to undergo a purificatory ritual, using dammar’s smoke. They believe that any violation of these would bring illness and misfortune to the concerned persons. The Paniyans also, like any other tribe, give high importance to the concept of purity and pollution relating to the different stages of one’s life, such as birth, initiation, and death. The period of pollution lasts for seven days. At the time of puberty, the girl is kept in a separate shed called ara for seven days in isolation.

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For Kurichians the concept of purity and pollution is almost the core of their entire world view. They consider two kinds of pollution, namely distance pollution and polluting by contact. Milder pollutions are removed by a purificatory bath or by sprinkling holy water. However, any serious pollution results in excommunication. Like any other tribe, the Kurichians also observe purity and pollution at the time of birth, puberty, and death. The period of pollution is seven days each at birth and at puberty, while it is only one day at the time of death. Moreover, within the period of thirty days, a ceremony called negalattam or potiyattam is performed to ask the ancestors to receive the dead in their company. For the performance of these rituals, the twin functionaries namely, the aattakkaran (oracle) and mozhikkaran (the person who recites mozhi or hymns), are necessary.

VI Belief in magical practices is again a common feature of most tribal communities in one form or another and an integral part of most tribal religions. Untoward natural events, situations full of danger and uncertainty etc., lead to belief in these magical practices. Based on evidence collected from all parts of the world, Frazer has found that the magical formulae are based on two principles namely, `like produces like' and `once in contact, always in contact'; these are the corresponding ways to homeopathic magic and contagious magic respectively. Among the Kattunaikkans, such powers had been used in the past to ward off diseases. The Kattunaikkans also believe that diseases are caused by evil spirits and these can be cured if their ancestral spirits are called and propitiated. If they are affected by small pox, they call on Masiamma (also known as Marimuthi), the goddess of small pox, and do the remedial measures. To cure the diseases of children, they also use amulets like covering the patient with the red shawl of the ‘oracle’. This role is always performed by the mooppan (leader/headman). They also believe that if they wear a kadukan (ear-stud), the spirits will not approach them. They also believe that if they do not propitiate their malamuthans appropriately, they may have to face many misfortunes in their life. The Paniyans used to practice both malevolent and benevolent magic. They believe that diseases are caused by malevolent spirits and they are cured of all diseases if their ancestral spirits are invoked and propitiated with betel leaves, areca nut and tobacco. It had also been a practice among the Paniyans to place one side of a special stick called mantra-vadi on the chest

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of the medicine man and the other side in a plate full of water, allowing the mantras to flow through the sticks, while the medicine man recites some mantras. It is believed that the drinking of this water cures the victim. In some cases, it may be the mooppan who may invoke the deities through reciting the mantras and give a black thread endowed with mystical power to be worn by the sick to get cured from the sickness. Among the Kurichians, sorcery is considered to be an inborn power and the sorcerer is known as mantravati. Black magic is practised by burying what is called takitu, a metal piece impregnated with a deadly spell, in such a place where the victim would cross more frequently, so that the crossing would result in a severe or mild illness depending on the intensity of the spell. Any of the religious functionaries such a teyyadi, attakkaran, or mozhikkaran, may be approached to diagnose and treat the disease as well as to defuse the effects of black magic through appropriate spells and charms and through the wearing of the amulets by the victims. They also believe that children are more susceptible to the evil eye and hence a black thread fixed with the bones of a particular bird is tied around the waist, at the birth ceremony itself, of the new born to cast off the evil eye.

VII The sacred geography of a tribal village includes the sacred area, which stands for the particular portion of the locality dedicated to gods and deities and the sacred centre, which refers to the particular places where the gods reside, both confined to the household and the area in and around the village. These are the basic units for the performance of most of the rituals and ceremonial activities among the tribes in India. Among the Kattunaikkans, deivathe vilikkal (calling the deity) is always carried out at the deiva-mana (abode of the deity) located at the house of the respective lineage mooppan. The sacred place in the Paniyan’s settlement is called deiva-pura, where different plates containing pebbles, representing the deities and the ancestral spirits of each clan, are kept. There are also other sacred objects like the divine sword and the sacred stick (mantravadi), which are used by the oracle during ritual performances at the time of festivals. There are also lamps kept in the deiva-pura. All tribal groups have a priest or a group of sacred specialists who are generally limited to two or three in number. They are called by different names in different tribes. The Kattunaikkans do not have a separate sacred

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specialist, except the mooppans of the respective lineage to perform the rituals. The Paniyans also do not have a separate specialist to perform the rituals. The chief mooppan of the settlement holds political, medicinal, and magical powers, and acts as the sacred specialist too. He also plays the role of the oracle at the time sacred rituals are performed on the occasion of adiyanthram, the annual festival of the Paniyans, celebrated in the Malayali month of Medam. The supreme religious functionary among the Kurichians is known as the theyyadi, who is considered the representative of their supreme god on earth. The other functionaries that come under theyyadi include Mootha (elder) Panikkar, Panikkar, Nattinpuram Karanavar, and Taravattu Karanavar, all of whom possess both secular and sacred power. Below them in rank are the attakkarans and mozhikkaran, whose role is confined to sacred performance alone The festivals combine in them both sacred and secular aspects and make the tribal people jubilant and enthusiastic. The festivals may last a day or may continue for several. During this time, the people engage themselves in drinking, dancing, and feasting. Aadiyanthiram is the major festival of the Kattunaikkans, usually celebrated in the month of Kumbham, with drums and cheeni and dances like kolkali and vattakkali. The celebration lasts for three days. As mentioned earlier, the annual festival of the Paniyans too is called adiyanthiram, which lasts for two days. The celebration takes place at the deivapura. On the occasion, the men folks perform theyyam and the women play vattakkali, to the beating of drums and the singing of songs. The Paniayans observe the death ceremony very elaborately. On the fifth day, a long ritual song known as kakkapattu is sung for the soul of the departed to attain salvation, during which betel leaves, areca nut and lime are offered to propitiate the spirits. The Kurichians perform an annual ritual called gulikanu kutayal by which a person is purified from any defilement that he might have contacted earlier.

VIII Religion can simply be defined as a relationship between powerless humans and powerful non-humans that are believed to be controlling human actions, and who can be appeased through a set of actions and propitiations, and be befriended for human benefits. It is an outgrowth of a shared social experience, which is organised into a system of beliefs and practices and rites and rituals, and through which these relations are expressed. In this way, beliefs and rituals become invariant factors in all religions. Myths and legends, forming part of the belief system, either as an outcome of similar

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life experiences or as constructs of inexplicable and mysterious human realities, are of great value simply for the understanding of the human mind and its different worldviews. Thus, religion emerges from the life experiences of the people, and at the same time, it influences the thought patterns and behaviour of the people. In its natural and pristine reality, it is also dynamic and ever changing in the light of widening contacts, fresh experiences and discovery of new meanings, all of which find their own place within the belief system, in a natural way as long as no force or coercion is exercised from outside. While religion itself is a universal human experience, the major difference one could notice between the institutionalised modern religions and the noninstitutionalised tribal religions is not so much in their functions or in the context of superstition as is usually made out to be the case, but in the extent of continuity and solidarity with nature. Müller (1999), bringing out the difference between the book-religions and bookless religions, makes a reference to a quote attributing it to a Blackfoot Indian who, while arguing with a Christian missionary, makes a distinction between the religion of the Whites and his own: ‘There were two religions given by the Great Spirit, one in a book for the guidance of the white men who, by following its teachings, will reach the white man's heaven; the other is in the heads of the Indians, in the sky, rocks, rivers, and mountains. And the red men who listen to God in nature will hear his voice, and find at last the heaven beyond.’ Müller continues to say that ‘religion which is in the head and in the heart, and in the sky, the rocks, the rivers and the mountains is what we call Natural Religion‘. For him, natural religion may exist and does exist without revealed religion while revealed religion without natural religion is an utter impossibility. In this way, tribal religion provides a most appropriate system of world-view within a symbiotic framework of human-natural-supernatural relationship. The existence of such a symbiotic relationship, manifested in tribal religions, has been evidenced by anthropological and ethnographic works the world over (Mann 1981; Vidyarthi 1961). Insensitivity to this dimension in development and rehabilitation efforts would only result in further alienation and jeopardise the life systems that have already been severely constrained by the ruthless exploitation of their traditional habitats, severing their sacred bond of solidarity with nature, apart from reducing their opportunities for the traditionally-rich livelihood strategies.

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References Geertz, C. 1968, ‘Religion: Anthropological Study’, in D. Sill. (Ed.). International Encyclopaedia of Social Sciences. Vol.13., MacMillan, New York. Gregory, Jancy F. 2007, ‘Tribal Identity, and the Distribution and Dynamics of Malabar Tribes’, Journal of the Institute for Research in Social Sciences and Humanities, 2 (1): 149-62. Gregory, S. 2005, ‘Tribal Perspective of Eco-Aesthetics’, in S Vanathu Antony (Ed.). Environmental Aesthetics. Madurai, Department of Philosophy, Arul Anandar College, Karumathur. —. 2006, ‘Religion in a World of Poverty and Plenty’, Journal of the Institute for Research in Social Sciences and Humanities, 1(1): 105-114. Majumdar, D.N. and T N Madan, 1956, An Introduction to Social Anthropology, Asia Publishing House, Bombay. Mann, R.S. (ed.), 1981. Nature-man Spirit Complexes in Tribal India, Concept Publishing Company, New Delhi. Miller, Elmer S. 1979, Introduction to Cultural Anthropology, Prentice-Hall, New Jersey. Müller, Friedrich Max. 1899, Natural Religion, Vol. 2, Longmans, Green, & Co. http://www.giffordlectures.org/Browse.asp? Murphy, Robert M. 1989 (1979), Cultural and Social Anthropology - An Overture, Prentice Hall. New Jersey. Vidyarthi, L.P. 1961, Sacred Complex in Hindu Gaya, Asia Publishing House, Bombay.

PART II: THE DILEMMA OF TRANSLATING MEMORIES INTO HISTORIES

CHAPTER FIVE THE MULTIDIMENSIONAL FACETS OF ETHNOGRAPHY: AN AGENDA FOR RESEARCH RAMESH C.MALIK

1. Introduction The concept of ethnography evolves from the tradition of cultural anthropology which manifests the scientific study of human beings and the surrounding culture. In a broad sense ethnography is interdisciplinary in nature as it deals with the disciplines that study the science of humans: their language, culture and society. Though it is a dynamic branch of anthropology, sometimes it is included in other allied disciplines i.e. humanities [folklore, linguistics, and literature], history and sociology. Before discussing the themes and perspectives of ethnography, a few remarks seem necessary to focus on the meanings of ethnography, the nature of ethnography and the interdisciplinary relationship with ethnography. Because these three thematic notions of ethnography not only help in writing ethnography but also help to evaluate ethnographic writings. Literally, ethnography means writing about people, or writing an account of the ways of life of a particular people (Hammersley, 2007:1479). Ethnography deals with a description of a people including their communication abilities. But ethnographic descriptions are not static: ‘ethnography is the study of people’s behavior in naturally occurring ongoing settings, with a focus on the cultural interpretation of behavior’ (Firth, 1961, Hymes, 1982). It shows that ethnography is the authentic source of cultural realities and it can also interpret cognitive ideas of human behavior according to their social context. In one way, ethnography is a process and in another way it is a product. As a process, ethnography gives ideas about data collection, such as participant observation,

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interviews, and recoding of human actions in natural settings, and secondly it also gives the road map of describing cultural practices of a people. In another way, ethnography as a product means a documentation of the entire cultural behavior of a people or group of people under study, including their livelihoods, social institutions, rituals, beliefs, economy, cultural dynamics, indigenous knowledge, knowledge shifting , language, literature, history, and related biological and ecological information. So, ethnography refers to a form of research and a product of that research exercise. To read, write and understand ethnography in its interdisciplinary functions we should have a satisfactory definitional knowledge of ethnography which will provide the clear structural and functional applications of the ethnography.

2. Working Definitions of Ethnography 1. Ethnography is the art and science of describing a group or culture (Fetterman, 1998:1). 2. Ethnography is the study of people in naturally occurring settings or ‘fields’ by means of methods which capture their social meaning and ordinary activities, involving the researcher participating directly in the setting; if not also the activities, in order to collect data in a systematic manner without meaning being imposed on them externally ( Brewer, 2000:10).

The above mentioned definitions of ethnography manifest at least two dimensional meanings, on the one hand, it refers to the data collection procedure and, on the other hand, it refers to the product of the entire exercise i.e. a monographic description of the research work where the researcher is engaged.

3. The Nature of Ethnography The first task of ethnography is to document the phenomenology of culture, patterns of social interaction, institutions, and so on, as they exist in society independent of the researcher. Ethnography can be written in many styles and in many formats. A typical ethnography describes the history of the group, the geography of the location, kinship patterns, symbols, politics, economic systems, educational or socialization systems, and the degree of contact between the target culture and mainstream culture. Specialized ethnographies may

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focus on specific elements of socialization of the young or the role of a significant person such as the principal (Fetterman, 1998, 12 cf. Wolcott, 1973). To consider all these functional approaches of ethnography this short paper tries to focus on the allied theme of human-centric subjects that are always interacting with the norms and natures of the ethnographic discourses.

4. Language, Folklore, Literature and Translation in Ethnographic Appraisal A. Language Language, literature and culture are all integral parts of human society. By the mid-twentieth century anthropological approaches had common beliefs about culture, especially (1) that human societies cannot be explained simply by natural environment or human biology; (2) that cultural possibilities are innumerable; (3) that cultures are diverse; (4) that different elements within a culture are patterned and interconnected; (5) that elements of culture must be understood by placing them in their context, rather than by treating them in isolation (Spillman, 2007: 922). This means that anthropology is interdisciplinary in nature. It can help to study other essential components of human culture such as language, literature, folklore, art, architecture, and so on. First of all, ‘language constitutes the most distinctive feature of a culture, which may be described in a simplistic manner as the totality of the beliefs and practices of a society. And although a language may be regarded as a relatively small part of a culture, it is indispensable for both the functioning and the perpetuation of the culture’ (Nida, 2005: 13). Language and culture are interrelated: ‘No language can exist unless it is steeped in the context of culture and no culture can exist which does not have at its center, the structure of natural language’ (Lotman, 1978: 21132). All these scholars propose that language and culture are closely connected with each other. Language is the heart within the body of culture. So is the branch of cultural anthropology, linguistics, evolved to study the structural and functional aspects of language. It is a fact that linguists always follow an ethno methodology to write a grammar of languages.

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B. Folklore In the same direction folklore is one of the most important sources of writhing ethnography. Folklore is important to both literate and nonliterate societies. They crystallize an ethos or a way of being. Cultures often use folk tales to transmit critical cultural values and lessons from one generation to the next. Folk tales usually draw on familiar surroundings and on figures relevant to the local setting, but the stories themselves are facades for universalistic morals and values (Fetterman.1998: 60). In the same way, literature, art and architecture also play essential roles to describe the ethno-cultural history of the people. What the anthropologist does is to focus on this in its totality.

C. Literature Literature is an essential component of interpreting the socio-cultural realities of an individual as well as a group of people. Linguistic anthropologist Alessandro Duranti remarks that ‘ethnography is the written description of the social organization, social activities, symbolic and material resources, and interpretive practices characteristics of a particular group of the people’. (1997: 85). This conveys that the functional properties of ethnography can help to study the human race, as well as society, language , culture and the cognitive processes related with their socialization through literary products. In one sense literature also proposes that it is the product of cultural processes and practices which are decoded through language: ‘Literature can help in interpreting the existing ethnographic and sociological sources’. (Oscar Lewis, 1959: 27). In these perspectives several works have been carried out by scholars of anthropology like Iravati Karve in 1961. She worked on the Mahabharata from an anthropological point of view which became a trendsetter for future historical studies. In the same direction Thomas R. Trautmann worked on Dravidian Kinship (1981). He elaborated the history of Indian kinship, particularly dravidian kinship systems from ancient sacred literatures such as Mahavansam (the genealogy of Buddha), the Jatakas, the Bhagavata Purana, etc. In her paper Monica. L. Smith (‘The Archaeology of Food Preference’, American Anthropologist, vol. 108, no3: 480-493, 2006), took data for analysis from the Aitareya Brahmana of the Rig Veda, the Ramayana, and the Mahabharata. Following these ethnographic approaches others have used world sacred literature intensively as primary source data. Ultimately it means that literature helps us study the ethnographic reality of a society.

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D. Translation Translation is an academic discipline which conglomerates with those texts that have the authenticity of linguistic and cultural practices of the concerned language speaking tracts. To prepare a translation of any kind of text we must request to the translator that s/he must have a special training on the specific theme which is going to be translated into a foreign language. ‘Translation is no longer something anyone with a smattering of a foreign language and a dictionary can sit down and do. It is today a highly sophisticated activity requiring an agile intellect and multidisciplinary training’ (Harris, 1997.VIII). In the context of Bible translation, Nida has suggested the relevance of translator training and he also points out that the three basic pre-field preparations such as biblical, anthropological, and linguistic training are absolutely vital to the translator. Further, he states that both anthropological and ethnological types of studies, which, of course are supplementary to each other, are necessary for translators. In this context, he claims that the most important type of study in cultural anthropology which the translator should undertake concerns the problems of acculturation. These are: 1. the problems of acculturation in the language community to which he goes, 2. the adaptations which he himself as a foreigner must make to the culture which he is entering, and 3. the adaptations which the people are to make in accordance with the teaching of the text (Bible). Without an understanding of these three problems and a decision as to policy, much of the translators’ energies will be spent in beating the air. It clearly indicates that the translators should have some anthropological or ethnographical training for communicating faithfully the messages that the source texts embedded.

Conclusion In the process of ethnographic research, the thematic subject of human discourses like language, literature, folklore, culture and translation are highly essential to systematize the methodological legitimacy of the proposed ethnographic study. It not only is a part of social science discourse but also is an integral part of humanities discourse. It is quite fascinating to discover the ground reality of human-centric thoughts and

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its interdisciplinary attitudes in a scientific manner. It is one of the very important requirements of the translator to have ethnographic training before engaging in any translation activity. This training not only supports a faithful or dynamic translation of any kind of ethnographic text but also would be quite helpful to evaluate ethnographic texts.

References Brewer, J.D.2000, Ethnography. Buckingham. Open University Press. —. 2001, The Ethnographic Critique of Ethnography: Sectarianism in the RUC, Edited by Alan Bryman. Ethnography, Vol. IV, Sage Publications, London. Bromly, Yu V. 1984, Theoretical Ethnography, Nauka Publishers, Moscow. Clough, Patricia Ticineto. 1992, The End(s) of Ethnography from Realism to Social Criticism, Sage Publications, New York. Fetterman, D.M. 1998, Ethnography Step by Step. (second edition), Sage Thousand Oaks, CA. Greenberg, Joseph H. 1971, ‘The Science of Linguistics’. Edited by Anwar S. Dil, Language, Culture and Communication. Stanford University Press, Stanford, California. Hammersley, M. and P. Atkinson, 1995, Ethnography. (2nd edition). Routledge, London. Hammersley, M. 2007, ‘Ethnography’. Edited by George Ritzer, The Blackwell Encyclopedia of Sociology, vol. II. Blackwell Publishing. Hymes, Language in Culture and Society: A Reader in Linguistics and Anthropology Allied Publishers Pvt. Ltd., Bombay. Lewis, Oscar. 1959, Five Families, Basic Books, New York. Lotman, J. & B. Aupensky, 1978, ‘On the Semiotic Mechanism of Culture’, New Literary History, IX (2). Marcus, G.E. and M.M.J. Fischer, 1986, Anthropology and Cultural Critique: An Experimental Moment in the Human Science, University of Chicago Press, Chicago. Nida, Eugene A. 1961, Bible Translating. (Revised), United Bible Societies, London. —. 1964, Linguistics and Ethnology in Translation – Problems. Edited by Dell. Smith, Monika L. 2006, ‘The Archaeology of Food Preference’, American Anthropologist, vol. 108, no3: 480-493. Spillman, Lyn. 2007, Culture. Edited by George Ritzer, The Blackwell Encyclopedia of Sociology, vol. II. Blackwell Publishing.

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Trautmann, T.R. 1981, Dravidian Kinship, Vistar Publications, New Delhi. Wolcott, H.F. 1973, The Man in the Principals Office: An Ethnography, Holt, Rinehart and Winston, New York. (Reissued by Waveland Press).

CHAPTER SIX THE CONQUEST OF THE NAGA LANDS: THE MAKING OF A STRANGE HISTORY1 TEMJENWABANG

The title for this essay is deliberately provocative, especially while referring the conquest of the Naga Lands, for the territory that we call ‘Nagaland’ in India now never has been completely conquered and ruled over by the British. However, if not political, it was another conquest that needs to be acknowledged — religious and cultural. It was the religious conquest that initiated the cultural. By the turn of the twentieth century, Christianity had displaced indigenous Naga belief systems. This conquest of religion thus was also cultural, because along with Christianity came Christian worldviews, the western notion of progress, and norms that determined what was good and what were bad ‘traditions’, that were absorbed and followed up by the Nagas. In other words, Christianity apart from being a religion is also a culture with its established notions of the sacred and profane worlds; anything that negated the Christian worldview was ‘pagan’ or ‘heathen’. Thus while the headhunting practices of the Nagas were viewed as pagan indulgences from the religious point of view, the successful discouragement of the same by the Christian missionaries implied a shift in culture as well. It included the negation of headhunting by the Nagas themselves. This cultural conquest should not be seen as a displacement of indigenous Naga traditions and practices altogether. At a superficial level, it also implied that certain Western worldviews, inherently the Christian one, took over the existing Naga worldview. Although the Christian missionaries and administrators were partners in this conquest, it was not deliberate either. It was their inevitable intercourse with the early Nagas that cemented the early Nagas’ historical fate, as well as the post colonial view on the early Nagas.

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This essay argues that while colonial writers naturally operated within the ethnographic paradigm and thus distorted Naga history, post colonial writers of the Nagas have been no less guilty. ‘…I would soon be among real ‘savages’’2. —Christoph Von Furer-Haimendorf

Haimendorf’s remark on the Naga sets in motion a self-derived introspection on the viability of sources Naga history writing rests on. This remark contradicts his own observation of the holy men in Benares he encountered: ‘… there were indeed many such completely naked men sitting cross legged in the streets of Benares, hardly noticed among the other ascetics and beggars…’3

What were the criteria in weighing the Nagas and the ‘naked men’ of Benares in the savage slot? As a trained anthropologist, Haimendorf’s observation of mass [italics mine] ‘nakedness’ should have qualified a group’s induction into the hall of savagery. In The Naked Nagas4 Haimendorf’s obsession with nudity and savagery was marked and in his Return to the Naked Nagas5, Haimendorf’s fascination with, and equation of, nakedness with savagery as an inseparable entity was echoed repeatedly to the extent a chapter was befittingly entitled, ‘Fishing with the Tactful Savages’6. Is there a consideration in proximity to ‘civilization’ vis-à-vis centre and periphery, or generality and marginality? Mill’s History of British India7, often considered a polemic against Indian civilization, was meticulously articulated and directed not only towards the disruption of the diverse Indian legacies but also towards displacing established notions of Indian historicity and replacing those notions with a Western superlative. Mill’s strategy might explain this factor if writings on the Nagas are juxtaposed against writings on main-stream ‘Indians’. It was Indian history written by Imperial representatives that dominated Indian scholarship and ‘psyche’ for decades until later historians critiqued this and brought in alternative histories and correctives to the colonial rhetoric on India. There was no such ‘history of the Nagas’ by the colonists since the discourse in the main-stream Indian context took place at the level that can be best considered as a clash of cultures. And since the colonial state found out that the Nagas as a culture possessed, according to most of

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them, a crude culture, unrefined traditions, and a still more uncouth form of society than that of their Indian counterparts, the Nagas were not perceived as challenges to the colonial state. An example of a writing process that was one-sided is represented by W. E. Witter’s introduction to M.M. Clark’s A Corner in India, for its non-Naga readers: ‘…This is a fine book for vacation reading. It smells of the forests, kindles the imagination, warms the heart, is better than a novel, for it is not only full of romance, but is true’8. Indeed, there was no threat of a critique against such writings since there was no symbolism in the initial interaction, and the chances of making up preliminary conceptions, especially to ‘exoticize’ and to ‘romanticize’ became possibilities9. Considering that the Nagas had no recorded history, whatever was written about the Nagas by the colonial observers got thus framed in time and became their historical identity.

Written Tradition on the Nagas Historical writings have their moorings in sources irrespective of their reliability or un-reliability. Naga historiography fits well into this schema; till date, the conventional understanding of Naga history can be attributed to colonial sources on pre-British and British Naga society. Naga historicity rested on oral traditions. The coming of the western observers is thus considered to be the beginning of writings on the Nagas. Methodologies applied during the colonial period were considered sophisticated and relevant for the periods roughly between the midnineteenth century and the early twentieth century. However, the same might have become irrelevant in later stages. New methodologies were emerging that could rectify aspects that colonial writings overlooked. Colonial writings on the Nagas were mostly generated by the numerous and keen ethnographic observations undertaken by the administrative officers, anthropologists and the missionaries. There was no inherent necessity for theoretical analysis or discussion apart from describing the society and social life of the subjects, an exercise that served the administrators’ need to have knowledge of the subject societies. With an inherent knowledge that colonial methodology alone was inadequate in studying a fast transforming Naga society, most of the post colonial writers till the late 1990s continued replicating rather than redirecting, reassessing, reconsidering or realigning certain aspects of colonial methodologies to, and approaches on, Naga society. It may be noted that Alexander Mackenzie’s laborious compilation, The North-East

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Frontier of India10, is perhaps the only proper written historical account of British relations with the Nagas. It sketched a chronological encounter with the Nagas and described policy on Nagas as well as with the neighboring peoples by British officials. Although the production of the history of the Nagas by the rest of the European observers remain speculative, it would be discriminatory to consider a society without history altogether. After all, as the colonial observers’ recorded and transliterated the oral traditions of the Nagas11, they wrote on the Nagas’ relations with their neighbors, and most importantly, wrote about their ways of life; all these qualify the Nagas in having a remembered past. And so, writing on the Nagas developed, but in a way the colonial observers desired and thought fit, that is, just to have knowledge about the subject they would rule. After their departure, the writings continued unabated. Nagas as well as non-Nagas wrote on the Nagas in varying perspectives, but by replicating and retaining many of the constructs, they remained distinctively colonial. ‘History’, apart from many other valid reasons, is also written to echo presentist aspirations, and Naga history is no exception to this. It was a ‘history’ written to fit into the changing environment. Jamir’s Bedrock of Naga Society12 is an example of how history was reckoned to understand the then Naga problem and politically justify the ‘Sixteen-point Agreement’ (which I will not discuss here) with the Indian Government. Till the 1940s, Naga history was a descriptive affair. This particularly applies to the immediate post colonial Naga society. There were only a handful of distinguished literary figures, and writing Naga history was a limited exercise, if not actually nascent. They had to rely on whatever available sources the colonial observers had recorded. At this stage, information on the culture, traditions and social life of the Nagas was deemed sufficient enough to qualify as ‘history’13. Writings in the post 1940s could not fare much better either. The only shift was, perhaps, the stress on political history14. There was no shift in methodologies. As for church history, it emphasized the emergence and impact of Christianity, a saga that narrated the enlightenment of the Nagas ‘from darkness to light’. Studying Naga society in ‘time and space’ was missing. The writings on the early and modern Nagas by Nagas as well as nonNagas that developed in the post colonial period (roughly from the late 1940s onwards) incorporated perspectives such as the political, religious, social and economic. The History of Christianity in Nagaland: A Source Material15, the History of Christianity in Nagaland: Social change, 1872-

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197216, From Naga Animism to Christianity17, and Baptist Missions in Nagaland18 left significant imprints on Church history in Nagaland. British Policy and Administration in Nagaland, 1881-194719 traced a political history and the relations of the British with the Nagas while Emergence of Nagaland: Socio-Economic and Political Transformation and the Future20 incorporated a multi-dimensional approach — social, economic and political relations. The Traditional Tribal Worldview and Modernity21, Nagaland Church and Politics22 and Modernization in Naga Society23 can be considered as studies on changes in Naga society. Nagaland District Gazetteers24, The World of Nagas25 and Nagaland26 are lay observations about Naga society, culture and history. All these still lacked serious analytical categories — it was instead a terrain of facts replicated from colonial records. A typical book on Naga history would thus encapsulate the ‘geographical’ location of Nagaland followed by an introduction and interrogation of the term ‘Naga’ that is hazy, obscure, and contested till date; it would be ceremoniously followed by ‘origins’ and ‘migration’ of the Nagas27; this followed by the ‘coming of the Christianity’ and the subsequent ‘social changes’ it brought about in Naga society, or ‘British Policy’ in the ‘Naga hills’, and again, followed by the subsequent ‘changes’ depending on the political or a-political nature of the book the writer intends. This is similar to the monograph format of the colonial observers’ writings that consisted of the following: Introduction (origins, habitat, material culture), Domestic Life, Laws and Customs, Religion and Folklore28. Naga history needs alternative incentives in supplementing these conventional writings if it is to overcome these by now standard formats. As a skeptic, I prefer interrogating the way Naga history developed. Before writing any history of the Nagas, sources should be reconsidered and possibilities ascertained to provide an outlet to the resultant and speculative interpretations that would subsequently follow.

Ethnography and History: Lessons from Colonial Writings ‘…that is the most interesting ethnological race of people divided by 500 or 1000 years from the rest of India’29. —Earl Winterton.

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As late as in the mid 1990s, there was no critical questioning of the way colonial writings structured the Nagas. From an unexpected quarter, Andrew West raised an important question: ‘Why was so much written [about the Nagas], and why were so many objects collected’30? Exceptionally revealing in this context, West contends that writing the Nagas was ethnographic, and distinctively an ‘Officers’ Culture’31, and successive administrators to the area ensured that this trend continued. An important task of the historian is to first relate the question of what kind of sources have been used and the second task is how to make the sources speak, a task that involves assessing the methodology employed and to point out certain biases (if any). One can say that ‘bias’ is the problem of the empiricist because every source comes with its own prejudices and it is up to the historian to recognize that bias and apply correctives32. Animating the information by seeking answers to questions is also important. Was post colonial scholarship on Nagas unaware of this aspect pertaining to the sources they relied on? Was an insight like West’s yet to mature until the mid 1990s? Or, is there is a gaping anomaly in Naga historiography that has gone un-noticed? As observed by West, there are numerous colonial sources on the Nagas spanning the period between the late nineteenth century and the late 1930s. Mostly written by military and administrative officers who had been stationed for administration of the area by the British government as well as by the anthropologists and the Christian missionaries, they comprise Tour Diaries and reports by various British Officers deputed to the Naga Hills between the late 1870s till the early 1930s, and letters/correspondences exchanged between the Christian missionaries during that time. A bulk of information on pre-British and the then contemporary Naga society in the colonial period comes from works, to list a few, The Lotha Nagas33, The Ao Nagas34, The Rengma Nagas35, The Sema Nagas36, and The Angami Nagas37. Insights into the life of the Nagas are recorded in The Naked Nagas38, A Corner in India39, the Gazetteer of Naga Hills and Manipur,40 Manipur and the Naga Hills41, and The North East Frontier of India42, gives a general picture of political relations between the British and the North Eastern Tribes including the Nagas. Moreover observations on the Nagas made by anthropologists and British officials on tour in the Naga Hills were extensively published in journals like The Geographical Journal and The Journal of the Anthropological Institute of Great Britain

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and Ireland. Another source of information on the Nagas is found in correspondences by the missionaries. These are some of the sources post colonial writers relied on, and the impact of some of these sources, especially the Naked Nagas, and A Corner in India were great; they can be considered to have shaped the received understanding in the years to come (especially in the postcolonial context)43. In most post colonial writings, four characteristics stood out. Firstly, they were overt replications of the views and observations of the European writers without subjecting the sources to analysis. The ‘presentist’ bias is too obvious here and there is a lineal connection between present day concerns and the writing of history. Secondly, they were descriptive; their approach may have been informative about the facts but it left out explanations and critical discussions. Thirdly, these repetitions implied that their writings operated under the paradigm of the colonial construct. This indicates that most of the postcolonial arguments are circular; they were neither going beyond monolinear and chronological explanations nor contesting concepts, portrayals and labels. And fourthly, there were instances of the way they employed only some facts which indicates their selective selection of ‘facts’, since only certain facts were employed to justify their arguments. Whether consciously or un-consciously written, post colonial writers on the Nagas have missed out some important aspects of the factors enabling a certain type of historiography to emerge. The condition in which the colonial writings developed was never seriously considered and understood. The writings on the Nagas that developed were primarily concerned with mapping and identification, and with ethnographic descriptions44; intricate knowledge about the subjects (their language, culture and traditions) served an important purpose: administrative convenience. Ever since, Europeans have struggled to make sense of the apparent ‘ethnographic chaos’ they perceived around them45. Other explanations that followed should have been understood as well; context – what was represented and what appears as the main fascination of the British with the Nagas; locality, that is, the marginality of the area and its population to British India; chronology of British involvement in the area and of the development of anthropological ideas; background of the writers and their relations with indigenous people, and the context of writing and publication, notably the intended audiences such as other

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administrators, professional anthropologists or the general public46, and going still further, world views, the source from where biases can form . The ethnographic construction of the Nagas was also rooted in the diffusionist tradition of the late nineteenth century47. This tradition employed the model of western society as the ultimate in a normative scale of progress with various societal stages, as well as correlation of one society with the other based on similar characteristics, evident in E.W. Clark’s observation: Now a few words about these savages of the hills (the Aos and Angamis). They are run of blood and war. Their fighting is all hand to hand, with big knives and spears…But as our Indians48 prized a scalp, so these men glory in the head of a warrior; and as, among some of the tribes, a man is hardly considered a man till he has taken human life …49

Cohn views that ‘in colonial history…, there were explicit efforts to construct an official ethnography at the moment that anthropology was beginning to be defined as a distinctive form of knowledge. Anthropologists developed practices through which they sought to cross the colonial influence by describing what they took to be authentic indigenous cultures. Their epistemological universe, however, was part of the European world of social theories and classificatory schema that were formed, in part, by the state projects to reshape the lives of their subjects at home and abroad’50. Colonial anthropology envisaged and encouraged colonial officers as well as anthropologists (italics mine) to make more systematic studies of the language and culture of the peoples they administered, which were subsequently embodied into administrative strategy51. Investigations into European folklore, comparative philology, physical anthropology and the origins of civilisation during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries—these scholarships produced the disciplinary rubrics of anthropology and ethnography, which focused on cultural and physical diversity52, hence the predominance of ethnological ideas (the search for relationships between human societies through their origins and the origins of their cultural practices and institutions)53. There was no looking back there on; societies came to be closely observed, identified, and categorised in accordance to societal scales and stages of progress that European scholarship had hypothetically developed and initiated. Anthropology viewed the practices of different cultures with an eye to their place on the scale of advancement and employed methods like the display of tools

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placed in sequential order, from simple general purpose devices to more specialized artifacts, so that the audience could follow the movement from the primitive to the complex, a view that colonists unconsciously absorbed, regardless of their discipline. In doing so, the colonial observers situated themselves at the top of the scale of advancement and the ‘others’ to a position lower down. Henrietta Lidchi argues that ethnographic artifacts were taken as the ‘material embodiment’ of the social-cultural complexities of the other cultures. The interventions of ethnocentric anthropologists ensured that these representations came to be seen as a ‘true’ account of how western societies had emerged and how they came to be seen as advanced54. But in a postcolonial perspective, with the emergence of alternative methodologies of looking into history, the empiricist methodology of colonial writers could not provide much to the later writers. Yet the postcolonial writers’ adherence to the empiricist methodology resulted in documented narratives and descriptions with little or no attempt to explain and interpret societal changes. The problem lay not in the colonial sources; it lay in the received understanding of the same by postcolonial writers. Ethnographic symbolisms on social processes have gone beyond the discipline of anthropology. In post colonial Naga historiography, ethnographic sources became histories.

Worldviews and Difference: The Savage in Naga Historiography55 ‘Remember, they have a distinctive history, rich traditions, legendary lore, ancient culture, a developed village system and have been a loose segment of India, in its broad territorial connotation [sic]…Nagas are a tribal collective misconceived to be savage, head-hunting communities’56. —Krishna Iyer ‘In the writing of Indian history, we have become accustomed to packaging our past and identifying it with labels. Such labels, even where they may include a variety of activity and experience, tend to force interpretation into a single category so that the infinite shades of difference within them disappear. When this happens, the historical perspective comes to be governed by the tyranny of labels: a condition which requires the historical unpacking of the categories and redefining of the contents’57. —Romila Thapar.

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This kind of portrayal bases itself on stereotypes. For people(s) of the Indian sub-continent who have been marginalized by the so called ‘tribalist’ discourse of understanding the past of communities without written sources, this historiographic lapse has also meant an erasure of their identities prior to the coming of the colonial rule58. Colonial writings on the Nagas as we see today should be understood in three categories—administrative and military, anthropological, and missionary. Somewhere back in time, the Nagas were believed to have actively indulged in a practice called ‘head-hunting’ till the same was discouraged after the coming of British administration. In the historical context, the Nagas were brought to the notice of the Europeans around the early nineteenth century. While writing the Nagas, colonial observers had certain worldviews. They portrayed the Naga inhibited areas as the abode of savages, barbarians and blood-thirsty head hunters59. These were the first assumptions made by the outsiders to their unknown land (apart from the people in the plains of Assam)60. In one of the few areas in the world which acute observers have documented over a period of a hundred years or so, the workings of assemblies (large group, sometimes villages-ed) in the North Eastern frontier of India involving British contacts with the so-called Nagas of the Assam-Burma border, the Europeans found this practice (head hunting) to be the most ‘bizarre practice’61. Perhaps they overlooked the fact that in Europe and elsewhere in the globe - around the same time - numerous lives were barbarously snuffed out in battlefields at one go as compared to the few heads taken by the Nagas. This practice, along with the observations by the Europeans that the Nagas were ‘naked’62, ‘filthy’, ‘treacherous’, ‘barbarians’, ‘heathen’63, and so on, became an established feature of writings on the early Nagas, a parcel within the modes of thought. But by the turn of the twentieth century, the Europeans were well aware of the logic: if head-hunting was rapidly abolished (as it had been in other parts of the Empire), it would be the equivalent of destroying money, markets and the profit motive in capitalist society64. However the mutual relations between these strikingly different points of view which run through literature on Nagas pose questions concerning ethnological relativism and the preservation or destruction of existing modes of thought. The European discourse on the early Naga as the ‘savage other’ emerged at a time when European thought and literature was preoccupied with the exotic65, among many other developments.

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Colonial writing on the Nagas was also part of a larger discourse taking place among the ‘advanced’ and ‘civilized’ societies on societies similar to the Nagas elsewhere in the world66. Categorization of other societies by the west was inspired by Lamarckian and Darwinian Theories67, it slotted these societies according to perceived or observed characteristics in the rung of civilization. European exploration of the non-western world sought to assign foreign lands and peoples a place within the occidental paradigm which reflected the Eurocentric cosmos, as such, Freund opined that colonial hegemony was largely achieved through the sometimes deliberate, often unconscious processes of systemization by which European explorers and thinkers configured the external world68. Relying on an ethnological framework desired to meet Imperial interests, the colonial officers’ task was to maintain a record for their administrative convenience. In the process, descriptions were inevitable, and so were worldviews and the target of the description—the audience(s). The tradition of writing was neither planned nor structured in a particular direction. It were the processes within the Imperial situation that dictated what the colonial observers were shaping for the subject societies. For the administrators, the early Nagas were savages considering the gaping differences in civilizational distinctions. Governor General Dalhousie’s minute of 1851 thus carries a distinct remark of his ‘dissent’ against control over the ‘savage inhabitants’ which was ‘costly and unproductive’. Moreover the British had ‘vindicated’ their power by a ‘show of military strength’69. Younghusband, ‘conqueror’ of Tibet, is also said to have deliberated and upheld the notion that ‘no European can mix with non-Christian races without feeling his moral superiority over them…our superiority over them is not due to mere sharpness of intellect, but to the higher moral nature to which we have attained in the development of the human race’.70 Political justification needed a justification, and moral factors became the political justification. This apparent and stereotyped cultural superiority in defending stances of imperialism therefore cannot be denied. Anthropologists like Haimendorf employed this term in anthropological studies on societies. Headhunting, a ‘savage’ characteristic, was also keenly understood by anthropologists in terms of its attachment with the fertility of the land, prosperity of the family and village, and identification with the social status of a warrior71. Missionary-oriented writers like Clark narrated the thematic triumph of

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Christianity and the emergence of Nagas from ‘darkness’. Dominated and driven by the Christian worldview, there was a reason when she employed terms such as ‘heathen’, ‘wild’, ‘nimrods’, ‘barbaric’, ‘headhunters’ and ‘savages’, while describing the Nagas. These labels went against the Christian world ordered society, and gave a justification to civilize them: ‘in this rude population-largely demon-worshippers- is found a virgin soil, the richest in all this valley for gospel seed-sowing’72. These categories developed independently of each other, but nevertheless they all assumed a paternalistic stance73 towards the Nagas. Colonial observers tried to fit into the role they saw themselves in — as responsible agents of civilization. Mackenzie thus observed, ‘Fate seems determined to prove that there shall be no rest for the English in India till they stand forth as governors or advisors of each tribe and people in the land’74. It was just a matter of entering ‘boldly on the work of civilizing the hillmen themselves and to change the whole standard of their national morals’75. As for missionaries, the opinion that ‘The Nagas, once civilized and Christianized, will make a manly, worthy people’76, encouraged this paternalistic attitude. Paternalism was just the beginning of the colonial writing process on the Nagas. Having made contacts with the Nagas, difference mattered. And so there were contradictions within the colonial observers’ writings and opinions. Woodthrope is said to have observed that the Angamis are ‘cheerful, frank, hospitable, brave’, and then characterized the same people as ‘bloodthirsty, treacherous, and revengeful’77. This is just one of the many contradictions found in the colonial writings on the Nagas. What does this imply? Colonial observers obviously had some other motivations in their minds while writing the Nagas. They had to ‘contribute’, ‘justify’ and ‘negotiate’ their thoughts and actions. Firstly, they had to contribute to the European construction of the ‘self’. The dilemma of how to portray people and societies from encounters with new/strange inhabitants at places alien to European observers was now replaced with the substitution of the European world view. Confronted by the differences of the ‘New’ world, colonial authors were not only constructing the lands through language, but they were also constructing themselves anew as well78. In this process, the portrayal of other societies, and official documents of colonial description in particular, required the formation of one authoritative and knowledgeable observer.

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Secondly, they had to justify their superiority. British justification over the expansion of the British Empire goes thus: ‘…this was a Christian empire, and it was the imperial duty to spread the Christian word among its heathen subjects’79. The Imperial expansion indicated racial superiority as well and these two have always been inseparable – obviously, ‘Empire was race’80. Given these facts, Imperial expansion, then, had to be justified. The belief in the decadence or barbarism of indigenous societies provided both motive and justification for the European writers and political leaders who advocated overseas empire building81. This justified European domination over ‘other’ societies. Thirdly, they were negotiating a terrain within their discourse of difference. Despite their close association with the ‘hospitable’ Nagas, they acknowledged the existence of residual forms of savagery in the Nagas; the rudeness in agricultural practices, the primitive quality of their social life and the unrelenting inter-village warfare, or their view that the aptitude of the Nagas had to be improved through intercourse with civilization. Tucked behind all this is a determination to be seen different from the Nagas. This ‘discourse of difference’ was directed, not to the Nagas but to their European counterparts in the metropolis. They felt the need to remind their readers back in Europe that in spite of living and interacting with the Nagas, they were still Europeans, and still different from the Nagas. Peter Robb says that in the course of the nineteenth century, as evangelical, romantic and utilitarian influences grew, and as British rule became more established, ‘the difference was emphasized’82. J.P. Mills contended that ‘Naga customs and practices … (are) incomparably better than that of a Western city dweller’ 83. But, as he still considered the Nagas as savages, the quote invalidates this assertion. It was a paradigm of difference. There were attempts to distance the ‘observer’ from the ‘observed’, and to disassociate themselves away from the subject society. Ryan had also argued that the interaction between the explorers and the aborigine84, as represented in the text, is largely determined by the explorer’s view of the aborigine’s interactions; the deployment of the civilized/savage opposition ensures that the indigenes’ motivation remains firmly in the field of the savage85. Particularly, in reference to the writings dedicated to the ‘savage’ societies, the colonial observers can be looked upon as ‘cultural’ brokers in cross-cultural

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encounters, invariably relevant to the interactions between the Nagas and their European observer. As mentioned, it is from the colonial sources that many postcolonial Naga writings on the Naga past rest. To quote a few: ‘Definitely, we were ‘savages’! That was before the coming of Christianity’86. ‘Nagaland was once as dark as Sheol, the reason being the influence of demons was very great. The whole atmosphere was of fear which affected the daily life of big and small alike in addition to lawlessness in society’87. ‘We (the Nagas) lived a primitive and brutish life in our villages, uncivilized and unlettered’88.

The interventions of colonial sources in post-colonial writings have made post colonial Nagas strangers to their own pre-British past. They also view the colonial past through the colonists’ eyes. The process in othering and discrediting one’s own past would not have been simple; it implied replacing world views altogether. It was from within the indigenous belief system of the Nagas that the colonial observers slowly displaced the existing Naga world view. While the missionaries introduced to the Nagas the west and its forms of knowledge, especially the education of the Nagas89, they ensured that the new breed of Nagas were taught to view most of their traditional attributes as savagery, and against Christian values. ‘Difference’ being an analytical category, was thus stressed as a tool to demarcate the Naga past.

Reading between the Lines: Re-Diffusion of the Colonial Ethnographic Tradition ‘Historians and anthropologists have a common subject matter, ‘otherness’; one field constructs and studies ‘otherness’ in space, the other in time. Both fields have a concern with text and context’90. —Peter Robb

Every discourse has a preconceived audience. Post colonial writers on the Nagas had certain limitations. They did not realize that colonial sources determine the way the information, and the subsequent story, is structured. What the travelers knew depended on the natives they talked to; what they could report was conditioned by their patrons and audiences at home. They were not independent agents, but mediators91. By the time the colonial

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observers left the scene, post colonial writers were to absorb these colonial legacies. And also, by the turn of the postcolonial period, distortion in the meaning of the term such as ‘savage’ had undergone considerable change. Presentist parlances were equated to this term. While there were multiple perceptions in the colonial period, they were narrowed down to specific types in the later period. This typing can be seen as a dichotomy between ‘open moments’92. Colonial ethnography was conducive for the post colonial writers. The received understanding of the colonial observers’ ‘Naga’ began to be replicated and churned out in numerous texts. Most of the post colonial writings and views on the early Nagas were trapped in yet another ethnographic confusion. Ao’s contention, ‘Missionaries came from the West with a western bias who called the tribal ‘heathen’, ‘savage’, ‘wild’, ‘native’ and ‘uncivilized’…(Christianity) in the long run opened the minds of ‘savage’ and ‘wild’ people and began to change their social and cultural life’93, might just seem a ‘statement’ in a body of text. Many might not also know that is also a ‘before and after dichotomy’94 justification. While missionary zeal was the driving force in depicting the Naga as a ‘savage’, to justify the advent of Christianity as a great leap towards ‘civilization’ by the colonial observers, the same tactic of conversion was referred to justify the enlightenment of the modern Nagas. The dichotomy reveals a much needed demarcation to highlight the departure between the ‘early’ and the ‘modern’ Naga society. After all, it becomes a priority to justify the advances that ‘Naga society’ has achieved in terms of ‘modernity’. What began as an ideological necessity to describe and record during the colonial period became a psychologically accepted ethnography on the Nagas. Contextually, changes or moments in Naga history came to be justified based on the received understanding of the colonists’ early ‘Nagas’. It not only implied that postcolonial understanding of the Naga past rested on colonial sources, but also affirmed that it was a re-diffusion of the same colonial ethnographic tradition.

Conclusion: The Way Out ‘… The important question is whether the image ‘stands for’ a reality, ‘stands in’ the reality, or ‘stands in for’ that reality. In effect, rather than representing a place, it re-emplaces it, that is, creates for it a new context unique to placeness’95. —Edward Casey

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Portrayals and depictions are linked to the perceptions of writers and the contexts that inescapably dictate them. Perception can be seen as an active mediator between portrayals in literature and the received understanding in literature. It is for this reason that portrayals shape historical symbolism. Post colonial writers on the early Nagas overlooked this important aspect. In the process of the discourse on other societies, texts were made to speak in a particular direction. The agencies (writers) of the texts, as well as secondary agencies (readers or receivers) are equally important in this interrogation (especially, since the latter often internalise the first). Experiences have shown that there are problems plaguing Naga historiography. To recall one, in the early 2000s, a ‘Genome Project’, supposedly an endeavor to map the ‘tribals’ through scientific examinations of blood samples, is believed to have been shelved. The reason being the resentment by apex bodies in Nagaland alleging that the ‘revelations’ of the research would create ‘isms’ amongst the Nagas. Furthermore, it was feared that it might distort the already accepted histories of the Nagas96. Here is a point worth pondering. Maybe, for academically minded and objective historians, this would have given an opportunity to co-relate or perhaps hypothetically trace out the origins and migrations of the Nagas. With such restrictions and limitations imposed on historically and academically inclined researches, we may as well assume that certain unnegotiable terrains obscure the search for truth in Naga historiography. More so, when we consider the fact that there are other anomalies; historians on the Nagas are yet to arrive at a consensus on the question of origin and migrations of the Nagas. This trend has been continuing ever since the Europeans grappled with these issues and failed to answer these themes satisfactorily. Skepticism abounds in many in relying on oral traditions alone. Although Sanyu opined that Naga history ‘can be reconstructed from oral traditions’97, and ‘in the absence of any written history, the numerous myths, legends and tales, as well as other aspects of tradition, have been the only link between the historic past and the present’98, the validity of the information given by the colonial observers, especially their transcripted versions of Naga oral traditions remain doubtful. Spoken word can easily be mutilated when it is taken down in writing and transferred to print. Some distortion is bound to crop up whatever the intention of the writer; simply by cutting out pauses and repetitions99. Irrelevance (as it appears to the writer) may be patiently listened to, but may also be given short shift when s/he comes to single out passages to reproduce100.

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Moreover, there are opinions that the oral traditions in course of time either become too exaggerated, insignificant, or forgotten101. Nonetheless, postcolonial historiography avoided oral traditions in their study on the Nagas. Today’s historiography correctly insists that the endeavor to construct otherness on the periphery was a European project of self-definition. The available discourses for discussing otherness ‘can also be used to give shape to the modern metropolis’102. In this regard, non-Western peripheries, and the discourses which they spawned, played a fundamental role in the ‘dialectics of modernity’ and the emergence of European conceptions of the ‘self,’ which began in the late fifteenth century and which encapsulated their mindset. Apart from understanding these, renewed approaches in methodology, analysis, interpretation, and employment of relevant ‘inter-disciplinary’ perspectives and affiliated literary theories while dealing with the colonial sources which have gained ground in the postcolonial era might finally enable us to break free of the cyclic argument. What is perhaps needed is a transdisciplinary approach uniting literary sources, oral histories, and ethno archaeology to rewrite a holistic history of the Nagas. Alternative interpretations could still be derived by reading between the lines of the colonial sources. Scholars should be aware of changes in academic perspectives taking place elsewhere to co-relate these with their sources. For instance, Low’s identification of the nineteenth century as a period when Europe was ‘beginning’ the serious task of discoursing on her nonEuropean ‘others’ in imaginative and scientific literature103 should be juxtaposed against the writings on the Nagas in the colonial period to understand the background of colonial writings on the Nagas. Colonial writings on the Nagas were ethnography in motion, they were not histories; they were constructing other societies based on western established notions of human progress; they had a preconceived audience which necessitated the separation of the centres from the peripheries; and most importantly, scholastic and academic developments in the west affected the way colonial sources were developed and structured to function. For, if colonial methodologies are irrelevant to contemporary Naga historians in one way or the other, and if contemporary scholarship has failed to make correctives while handling them, history writing on the Nagas has suffered a setback. How relevant interpretations are derived

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from colonial sources is best left as a speculative exercise of contemporary historians on the Nagas, past and present.



Notes 1

We will be confining the term ‘Naga lands’ within areas of the present state of Nagaland, Indian Union. It may be noted that numerous Naga areas exist outside the boundaries of Nagaland. As for the usage of the term ‘early Naga’, it may be conveniently understood as those Nagas during the pre-British and British period. It may also be noted that the nomenclature ‘Naga’ itself has been problematic; there is no consensus among those who have dealt with the term. But, again, the term is applied here liberally for sake of convenience. 2 Christoph Von Furer-Haimendorf, 1939, The Naked Nagas: Head Hunters of Assam in Peace and War, Methuen & Co. Ltd., London, Reprint 2004, Spectrum Publications: Guwahati, Delhi:2. 3 Ibid: 8. 4 Haimendorf, 1939, op. cit. 5 Christoph von Furer-Haimendorf, 1976, Return to the Naked Nagas, Vikas Publishing House, New Delhi. 6 Haimendorf, 1939, op. cit.: 71. 7 J.S.Mills, 1826, The History of British India in 6 vols (3rd edition), Baldwin, Cradock, and Joy, London.

(Accessed 10.08.06). 8 W. E. Witter’s personal view in the introduction to M.M. Clark’s A Corner in India, in M. M. Clark, A Corner in India, American Baptist Publication Society, Philadelphia, 1907; Christian Literature Center, Gauhati, reprint 1978. 9 Howard Mumford Jones, 1964, ‘O’ Strange New World: American Culture, The Formative Years, Viking Press, New York: 28. 10 Alexander Mackenzie, 1999, The North-East Frontier of India, (1884); photo reproduction, Mittal Publications, New Delhi. 11 Oral tradition was very much part and parcel of the Naga society and it continues (some strands of indigenous Naga lores, myths, legends and songs) today along with the written tradition. On the absence of a written tradition, folklore justifies that Naga ancestors had a primer that was written on animal hide which was unfortunately stolen by wild animals. 12 S.C. Jamir, 2000, Bedrock of Naga Society, Nagaland Pradesh Congress Committee, 2nd Edition, July. 13 More or less an extension of the colonial method of documentation. 14 This is because history began to be referred again and again by the Naga historians at the height of the separatist tendency (the 1960’s) while looking back into history to claim that the Nagas and the Naga inhabited areas were never a part of the Indian Union.

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15 A. Bendangyabang Ao, 1998, History of Christianity in Nagaland: A Source Material, Shalom Ministry Publications, Bangalore. 16 A. Bendangyabang Ao, 2004, History of Christianity in Nagaland: Social Change, 1872- 1972, Shalom Ministry Publications, Bangalore. 17 Veprari Epao, 1998, From Naga Animism to Christianity, Hindustan Print-oPrint, Dimapur, 2nd edition. 18 Joseph Phuten Purakal, 1984, Baptist Missions in Nagaland, Firma KLM Pvt. Ltd, Calcutta. 19 Piketo Sema, 1992, British Policy and Administration in Nagaland, 1881-1947, Scholar Publishing House, New Delhi. 20 Hokishe Sema, 1986, Emergence of Nagaland: Socio-Economic and Political Transformation and the Future, Vikas Publishing House, New Delhi. 21 A. Wati Longchar, 1995, The Traditional Tribal Worldview and Modernity, Eastern Theological College, Jorhat. 22 V.K. Nuh, 1986, Nagaland Church and Politics, Vision Press, Kohima. 23 B.B. Kumar, (Ed), 1993, Modernization in Naga Society, Omsons Publications, New Delhi. 24 B. B. Ghosh, 1979, Nagaland District Gazetteers: Mokokchung District, Government of India, Kohima. 25 Murkot Ramuny, 1988, The World of Nagas, Northern Book Centre, New Delhi. 26 Prakash Singh, 1995, Nagaland, National Book Trust, New Delhi, 1972; fourth edition. 27 It is again split into variations of origin and migrations. For the Aos, they believe that they originated from ‘Longterok’ (six stones) while the other groups of Nagas believe that they originated and dispersed from a place called ‘Khezakenoma’. 28 Andrew West, 1994, ‘Writing the Nagas: A British Officers’ Ethnographic Tradition,’ History and Anthropology, Vol. 8, Nos. 1-4: 66. 29 Earl Winterton cited by Verrier Elwin, in ‘Nagaland’, Research Department, Adviser’s Secretariat, Shillong, 1961, p.58. 30 Andrew West, 1994, op. cit.: 55. 31 Ibid.: 58. 32 Manorama Sharma, 1998, History and History Writing in North East India, Regency Publications, New Delhi: 28. 33 J.P. Mills, 1922, The Lhota Nagas, Macmillan, London. Reprint, AMS Press, New York, 1979. 34 J.P. Mills, 1926, The Ao Nagas , Macmillan, London. 2nd ed. Oxford University Press, London, 1973. 35 J.P. Mills, 1937, The Rengma Nagas, Macmillan, London. Reprint, AMS Press, New York, 1979. 36 J.H. Hutton, 1921, The Sema Nagas, Macmillan, London. 2nd ed. Oxford University Press, London, 1968. 37 J.H. Hutton, 1921, The Angami Nagas, Macmillan, London. 2nd ed. Oxford University Press, London, 1969, reprint. 38 Haimendorf, 1939, op. cit. 39 Clark, 1907, op. cit.

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40 B.C. Allen, 1905, Gazetteer of Naga Hills and Manipur, Reprint. Mittal Publications, New Delhi, 2002. 41 Sir James Johnstone, 1896, Manipur and the Naga Hills, Delhi: Vivek Publishing House, 1971 reprint (originally published under the title, My Experiences in Manipur and the Naga Hills: S. Low, Marston & Company, London, 1896). 42 Mackenzie, 1999, op. cit. 43 Temjenwabang, Perceiving the Savage in Historiography on Nagas (Unpublished MPhil Dissertation), Department of History, University of Hyderabad, 2005: 21. 44 West, 1994, op. cit.: 56. 45 Amongla Imsong, Myths and Ancient History: Case Study of Ao-Naga Myths, (Unpublished M.Phil Dissertation) Department of History: University of Hyderabad, 2004: 2. 46 West, 1994, op. cit.: 55-56. 47 Ibid.: 56. 48 He draws an analogical resemblance of the ‘Native American Indians’ and the ‘Nagas’. 49 Excerpt of letter from E.W. Clark to Bronson in H.K. Barpujari, 1986, The American Missionaries and North-East India: 1836-1900 A.D, Spectrum Publications: Guwahati: 267; also in Mr. Clark’s letter, Dec 5, 1851, Sibsagor cited by Bendangyabang, 1998, op. cit.: 50. 50 Bernard S. Cohn, 1997, Colonialism and its Forms of Knowledge: The British in India, Oxford University Press: New Delhi: 11-12. 51 Kuklich cited in Barbara Bush, 1999, Imperialism, Race and Resistance, Routledge, London and New York: 36. 52 Gail Ching-Liang Low, 1996, White Skins/Black Masks: Representation and Colonialism, Routledge, London and New York: 2. 53 Andrew West, 1994, op. cit.: 66. 54 Henrietta Lidchi cited in Mark J. Smith, 2002, Culture: Re-inventing the Social Sciences, Viva Books Private Limited, New Delhi: 8. 55 This is a much repeated argument; I started it off as an M.Phil. dissertation entitled ‘Perceiving the Savage in Historiography on Nagas’, submitted to the Department of History, University of Hyderabad in 2005. It was then presented as a paper entitled, ‘The “Savage Other” in Naga Historiography: Condition and Paradigm’, at a three day international conference on Ethnographic Discourse of the other in Contemporary India during 3-5th July 2007, University of Hyderabad. Here, I am revoking this perspective to substantiate my contention that ethnographic constructs have influenced the way in which early Nagas were portrayed in the post colonial context. 56 V R Krishna Iyer, 1994, ‘Saga of the Nagas’, Economic and Political Weekly, March 19: 674- 675. 57 Romila Thapar, 2004, ‘The tyranny of labels’ in Aloka Parasher-Sen (Ed), Subordinate and Marginal Groups in Early India, Oxford University Press, Delhi: 349.

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Imsong, 2004, op. cit.: 1. See Elwin, 1961, op. cit.: 19. He quotes Alexander Mackenzie: ‘the Assam valley is surrounded north, east and south by numerous savage and warlike tribes…’ Evidently, mental geography first began to map the Naga inhabited areas even before physical explorations and surveys took place. 60 M.M. Clark (1907) wrote that she was informed by the people of Assam that the Nagas were ‘savages’. 61 But all aspects of Naga life had its ritual significance: all activities, from simple household and economic tasks from dancing to feasting. The ‘spirits’, which they believed to have had controlled the realities of the life of the Nagas, needed constant appeasement. Julian Jacobs opines that the human head, ‘the seat of wisdom and the human soul was the repository and conductor of power’. This was true, whether the head was that of a child, a man, a woman, alive or dead. They believed that he who owned other's head gained prosperity in this world, the esteem of his folk, and a guaranteed happiness in the after-world. Success and merit in every field depended on taking the heads. Moreover head-hunting was practiced for the fertility of their lands, prosperity of their villages, or for enhancing their social standings (of the Naga warriors). Life was given its central purpose by the quest for heads. Boys would not become men without the ritual tattooing only to be undertaken after a successful head-hunt; girls would not be attracted to men without the splendid head-hunting dances and decorations. 62 Not all the Nagas were considered ‘naked’ except by some; Haimendorf in his Naked Nagas identified the Konyaks as such (he had observed that apart from a loin cloth, the Konyaks rarely covered their bodies). Whatever the reason of this depiction, we may suspect his view becoming a marker of the later European view on the Konyaks and their contemporaries, the Rengmas, as the naked Nagas. 63 These are general views of the Europeans who observed the Nagas in their writings- the colonial officials in their reports and diaries, the anthropologists in their monographs, and the missionaries in their correspondences and books on the Nagas. 64 Julian Jacobs, ‘The Nagas: Hill Peoples of Northeast India’, (Accessed 20/09/2008) 65 Bates cited by Morang Bell in, ‘Images, Myths and Alternative Geographies of the Third World’ in Derek Gregory and others (Ed), 1994, Human Geography: Society, Space and Social Science, Palgrave & Macmillan: New York: 175. 66 For instance, Pat Moloney deals with a similar situation where the natives of New Zealand were considered as savages by the Europeans. Simon Ryan’s Cartographic Eye also discusses a similar situation of the aboriginals of Australia who were perceived and discussed by the European explorers and travelers in their writings. Also see Dorinda Outram’s book, The Enlightenment, which puts the Tahitians under the pale of European discourse on ‘civilized’, the ‘exotic’ and ‘savages’ and Toby Freund’s The Occidental Tourist which highlights the ‘Iberian’ discourse by the Europeans in a similar context. Dorinda Outram, 1995, The Enlightenment, Cambridge University Press; Pat Moloney, 2001, ‘Savagery 59

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 and Civilization: Early Victorian Notions’, New Zealand Journal of History, Vol. 35, No. 2, Oct.; Simon Ryan, 1996, The Cartographic Eye, How Western Explorers Saw Australia, Cambridge University Press; Toby Freund, 2001, ‘The Occidental Tourist: Discover, Discourse, and Degeneracy in S. Africa’, Michigan Journal of History, Fall,

(Accessed 6/10/05). 67 Murray J. Leaf, 1979, Man, Mind and Science, Columbia University Press, New York: 95. 68 Freund, 2001, op. cit. 69 Alexander Mackenzie, 1999, op. cit.: 45 70 F. E. Younghusband, cited by Morang Bell, 1994, op. cit.: 177. 71 Haimendorf, 1939, op.cit.: 15,63, 204; Claude Levi-Strauss, 1966, The Savage Mind, The University of Chicago Press: 3; Interview with Christoph Von Furer Haimendorf at Lode, Cambridge, by Alan Macfarlane, 17th June 1983, (Accessed 7th April 2005). 72 Clark, 1907, op. cit.: 45 73 Misra has discussed about a paternalistic ‘role’, which I see as a ‘stance’, See Sanghamitra Misra, 1998, ‘The Nature of Colonial Intervention in the Naga hills, 1840-80,’ Economic and Political Weekly, December 19: 3274. 74 Alexander Mackenzie, 1999, op. cit.: 369. 75 Ibid.: 557. 76 Ibid.: 3. 77 Julian Jacobs, 1990, The Nagas: the Hill People of Northeast India - Society, Culture and the Colonial Encounter, Thames and Hudson, London: 24. 78 Ryan, 1996, op. cit.: 21. 79 James Morris, 1973, Heaven’s Command: An Imperial Progress, Penguin Books Limited, 1984: 318. 80 Barbara Bush, 1999, op. cit.: 7; also see James Morris, 1973, op.cit: 447. 81 Michael Adas, 1988, ‘Imperialism and Colonialism in Comparative Perspective’, The International History Review, June: 175. 82 Peter Robb (Ed), 1997, The Concept of Race in South Asia, Oxford University Press, Delhi: 29. 83 J.P. Mills, 1933, ‘The Effect of the Naga Tribe of Assam of their contact with Western Civilization’ Fifth Pacific Science Congress, Victoria, Vancouver, cited by Tuisem A. Shishak, 1990, ‘Nagas and Education’, Nagas’ 90, Souvenir, Literature Committee, Nagas 90, February 8-11. 84 In this case, the Aborigines of Australia. 85 Ryan, 1996, op. cit.: 146. 86 Excerpt of interview with Theja Meru, Director, Dream Café, Kohima on 18th February 2005. 87 Epao, 1998, op. cit.: 20. 88 Jamir, 2000, op. cit.: p.8.

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Education of the Nagas was mainly undertaken by the Christian missionaries. The British administrators did not involve themselves directly in the proselytizing drive of the missionaries; but they were instrumental in protecting and encouraging the missionaries in the later stages of British policy on the Nagas. 90 Bernard S. Cohn, 1987, An Anthropologist among the Historians and Other Essays, Oxford University Press, Delhi: 19. 91 Richard H. Grove cited by Harry Liebersohn, 2003, ‘Scientific Ethnography and Travel, 1750–1850’, (Series: The Cambridge History of Science, Volume 7, The Modern Social Sciences), eds. Theodore M. Porter and Dorothy Ross, Cambridge University Press: 102. 92 We can safely assume that the perception and portrayal of the early Nagas by the Europeans took place in an era where there was fluidity in perception and portrayal of the Nagas. This later on can be considered to have narrowed down to employing certain terms and concepts that came to be identified with the early Nagas; for example, the Nagas as ‘savages’. 93 Bendangyabang, 2004, op. cit.: 272. 94 Michael Adas, 1972, ‘Imperialist Rhetoric and Modern Historiography: The case of Lower Burma before and after conquest’, Journal of South East Asian Studies, Vol.3: 176. He suggests of a before and after dichotomy which was employed to highlight the development that the coming of British rule had ushered on the Burmese subjects. This, he says, can also be relevant in the study of an erstwhile colonized society. 95 Matt Matsuda citing Edward Casey in, ‘A Place for History,’ History and Theory, 43 (May 2004): 262. 96 For further details, see ‘On the politics of the Naga students’ ; Inotoli Zhimomi, ‘What does 'Human Genetic diversity project' mean for us the Nagas? A personal reflection’, ; and M.S. Prabhakara, ‘Nagas: Objects of history’, (All sites were accessed on 24th July 2005). 97 Visier Sanyu, 1990, ‘Nagas in History’ in Nagas’ 90, Souvenir, Literature Committee, Nagas 90, February 8-11: 5. 98 Imsong, 2004, op. cit.: 4. 99 Raphael Samuel, 1998, ‘Perils of the transcript’ in Robert Perks and Alistair Thomson (eds), The Oral History Reader, Routledge, London and New York: 389. 100 Ibid. 101 To quote Moyer in this context: ‘Trained to depend on written records, traditional historians have been known to shudder in horror at the potential problems and inherent weaknesses of oral history. What of the failings of human memory? What of the human tendency to impose a narrative structure on events that may not be closely connected? What of the self-serving motives of the story teller? What of the power relationships between interviewer and interviewee that affect what and how events are reported? What of the differences between the

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 spoken and written word? What of the inaccuracies that creep into meaning when trying to put a conversation onto paper?’ Judith Moyer, 1993, revised 1999, ‘Stepby-Step Guide to Oral History’, ; also see Linda Shopes, ‘What is oral history?’ (Both accessed on 5th October, 2006). 102 Bailey cited in Toby Freund, 2001, op. cit. 103 Low, 1996, op. cit.: 2.

CHAPTER SEVEN SOURCES OF WRITING MIZO HISTORY AND THEIR LIMITATIONS MALSAWMDAWNGLIANA  

Introduction The central focus of this paper is twofold, firstly to locate the sources of Mizo history in the context of historiography starting from the colonial period and secondly, to proceed to examine the limitations that have followed from the use of these sources. I will then focus on how these limitations are reflected in historical scholarship with special reference to the construction of the pre-colonial period in Mizo history. The writing of Mizo history is still limited in terms of both theoretical approach and adequate conceptualization. It is reduced to mere documentation rather than history writing. There is a limited awareness of the current debates in the social sciences that have led to some methodological advances, thereby forcing some historians to adopt analytical tools from diverse disciplines. There is confusion over the question of the common nomenclature and origin of the Mizos while tracing their ethnicity. This is mainly because the oral sources are not studied in comparison with existing relevant information such as archeological findings that are available in the form of big memorial stones that reveal about the past eg:- Lung Au, Lungphunlian etc. These stones reflect the conditions of the past. However, the literary sources of the Mizos today belong to the British period, established by British officials during the short-term rule in Mizoram. Another limitation is that the Mizos did not form a homogenous group with a single culture, there are different clans within the Mizos; and therefore

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with each different clan there are also several different practices. The process of history writing should reflect the differences as the use of homogenous terms would conceal local diversities and lead to a misleading picture. The sources of history of the Mizos can be classified as: 1) Oral Sources, 2) Archeological sources: stone fragments, megaliths, 3) Foreign accounts, 4) Existing literature (the anthropological approach, colonial writings, church histories and local writings), 5) Archival sources. These may be elaborated and analyzed as below:

Oral Sources The most important sources of history are from oral traditions. The transmission of oral tradition may follow definite rules. Where special techniques and methods exist, their purpose is to preserve the tradition as faithfully as possible and pass it from one generation to the other. Oral history gains importance for the interpretation of history. Oral history provides for the recovery of a history that is no longer tied to the cultural significance of paper documents. The oral tradition therefore played an important role in understanding the historical evolution of those societies not having a recorded history and where beginnings might have to be made with the interpretation of legends, myths and folklore. There is a lack of a recorded history in the case of Mizo history writing. The literary sources among the Mizo became available only in the later part of the nineteenth century after the advent of the British, when two missionaries, J.H. Lorraine and F.W. Savidge, introduced the Roman alphabet to the Mizos and started teaching at Mac Donald Hill, Aizawl. Oral sources cannot be denied in writing Mizo history as there is a scarcity of literary sources. Today oral sources are accepted as complementary to recorded sources in the reconstruction of the past. (Biswas, 1993: 33). They include all nonconventional sources like folklore, folk songs, beliefs, ceremonies, hymns, rituals etc. Oral sources of the Mizo may be elaborated as under:(a) Chhinlung tradition: Most of the Mizo historians are of the opinion that the Mizos originally came out of a big cave. Lusei, Hmar and other clans in Mizoram called it

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‘Chhinlung’, whereas Thadous, Paites, Gangtes, Vapheis and others called it ‘Khul’ or ‘Khulpi’ but the way they locate the place is different from one another. The word ‘Chhin’ stands for covered and ‘Lung’ stands for stone. Some believe that the ancestors of the Mizo might have been cave dwellers. Rochunga Pudaite opined that the word Chhinlung was ‘Chin Lung’, the name of a Chinese prince rather than a designation for a mere covering stone. This prince revolted against his father Shih Huangti of the Chi’n dynasty and built the great wall of China in 228 B.C. Biswas (1993:22) says that the prince first established himself somewhere in the Himalayan mountains and then migrated to the present Shan State of Burma. The Mizos are believed to be subjects of Chin Lung whose name continued to be retained as chhinlung, thereby connecting their origin with their actual state. There is a story told by the Thadous: in the past there were seven important villages in a subterranean region ruled by Noimangpa, the chief of Noimang. The cutting up of a big snake who blocked the hole to the underworld into seven pieces by Chawngthu (the progenitor of the Thadous) led to migration to the upper world, and the seven members of the company, including Chawngthu, emerged out of this Khul. The names of these seven are mentioned. Those of the other four are not known but they are believed to include the progenitors of the Meitei, the Naga, the Burmese and the unknown Foreigne (Kipgen, 1997:33). There is also another legend which gives an interesting piece of information: that the different clans came out of a big cave (chhinlung) and that the last to emerge were the Ralte couple whose loud chattering made Pathian (God) shut down the covering stone for fear of over-populating the upper world (Shakespear,1912 :93). Pu Thangvunga, who went in search of the origin and migration of the Mizos in 1941, explained that the ancestors of the Mizo came from Shanghai, sent out by a Chinese king to be the followers of his son who was to establish himself as ruler. But instead of following the prince they cast lots according to which they proceeded in two groups, one group towards the southwest and the other to the south. The duration of the time they spent between Shanghai and Burma is not known, but one group was counted as the 47th generation in 1941. When the group came to Burma, the Burmese said, ‘The ‘Chinlu’ are coming’. (Chin is an abbreviated form for Chinese, and ‘lu’ means ‘people’ in Burmese). It is believed that Chinlu came to be known as Chhinlung in course of time (Zawla, 1993:66).

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Nevertheless, contemporary historical writings and other recent works on the Mizo produced some clues on these claims. Certain writers believed that they abandoned Chhinlung because of their inability to defeat their enemies. Nunthara contents that ‘all the writers on the subject and the traditional history of the Mizo verbally handed down through several decades agree that the term Chhinlung, whether a place or a person’s name, originated from China and that the Mizo and all the related tribes claim to have originated from this’. From this account, even though a conjectural one, we can surmise that the original home of the Mizo is somewhere in the east (Nunthara, 1996 :39). The archaeology of migrations was not attempted. This aspect was never given much weight in the writing of Mizo history. The reliance on language without establishing co-relations with material culture make these conjectures tenuous. (b) Earth Hole tradition: A folktale also indicates that the first man came out of a hole in the earth. When men came out of this hole all were equal, but in a short time the cleverer men became chiefs and nobles and ruled over the less intelligent and energetic, who became the lower orders, and were known as machhi (Perry,1976:232). The above folk tale shares common parallels with many folk tales of contiguous regions, and also in other parts of the world, which explain the rise of different strata in society as the devices employed in narrating this tale clearly reveal. (c) Totemistic tradition: There are only four clans among the Mara clan which appear to have any sort of totemistic origin: the Bonghia, the Theutha, the Hnaileu and the Mihlong. The origin of the Bonghia and Thleutha clans of Savang is the same; both claim to descend from a python. The story says that many years ago, there was a girl called Pithlong, who was employed as a priestess to perform sacrifices to the Khisong, the abode of evil spirits. As she held a priestly office, this girl had to remain a virgin. One night, however , the python came to the place where Pithlong was sleeping and assuming a human form, had intercourse with her. In due course of time, Pithlong gave birth to a son, Bonghia, who founded the Savang chief’s family. After Bonghia’s birth, Pithlong again had relations with the snake, and a second son named Thleutha was born. Thleutha also founded a clan. The Thleutha clan, though

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of noble birth, has never been a ruling house. Both the Bonghia and the Thleutha clans are snake clans. It is forbidden for them to kill or even touch a python. They believe that if they do so, they would die instantly. They regard the python, or Paripi, as they call it, as a good spirit, and as the special protector of all members of the Bonghia and the Theuthla clans. The Hnaihleu clan of Saiko is a tiger clan; all members of it show special reverence to tigers, and it is forbidden for them to kill a tiger. The story of the origin of the clan is as follows. The founder of the tiger clan was a man called Hnaihleu, whose name the clan still bears. Hnaihleu was the great friend of a tiger called Nangtha. Nangtha used to warn his friend whenever tigers were going to kill the village cattle, and consequently Hnaihleu always managed to save his animals. In gratitude for the benefits conferred on him by the tiger Nangtha, Hnaihleu laid down that none of his descendants must ever kill a tiger, ever look at a tiger that had been killed, or ever take part in the Ai feast, which is performed when a man kills a tiger. These prohibitions are observed to this day by all members of the Hnaileu clan, and it is forbidden for them to break it. In addition to this, the Hnaileu clan periodically performs a sacrifice to the tiger, which is called Nangtha Hawkhei. The Mihlong clan claimed to be descendents of the hornbill. No member of this clan may kill a hornbill, and they say that if they eat the hornbill’s flesh it would be equivalent to eating their father and mother. The Mihlong do not however offer any sacrifice to the hornbill. The Wazukumer clan of the Ao Nagas is another hornbill clan, and like the Mihlong it was forbidden for this clan to eat the hornbill. (d) Chieftainship tradition: The Paihte and Sailo claim that they both are the descendent of Niguite whose birth is narrated in the form of a folktale: Dongula had forbidden sex with his sister Lalnemi who later gave birth to a beautiful boy named Niguite. The child was named Niguite because he was born on account of the rays coming from the sun. The word ‘ni’ means sun and ‘guite’ means ‘to burn’ or ‘to scorch’ (Sangkima, 2002). Later Niguite had two sons, Ngeknguka and Bawklua, the progenitors of the Paihte and Sailo respectively. Bawklua married Lawileri who gave birth to Sihsinga, who became the father of one Ralna (Sangkima, 2002:179). Ralna begot one Chhuahlawma, father of Zahmuaka, who along his wife Lawilerhi, had seven sons. One died in infancy. The names of the offspring were Zadenga,

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Paliana, Thangluaha, Thanngura, Rivunga, and Rokhuma; as the different tribes bear the name of their ancestor, these are believed to be the origin of the clans. It was also believed that during this time a proper channel of chieftainship was established as different clans started to have their own leaders. When they migrated to Mizoram, they kept on following this tradition. There is a slightly different interpretation by J Shakespeare in his book Lushei Kuki clan. He noted that all Lushei chiefs claimed descent from a certain Thangura, who is said to have sprung from the union of a Burman with a Paihte woman. But according to the Paihte, the Lusei descended from Boklua, and the illegitimate son of the Paihte chief Ngehguka. The Thado say that some hunters chasing a serao (variety of deer-ed) noticed footprints of a child following those of an animal, and on surrounding the doe serao, they found it suckling a child who later became the great chief Thangura, or, as they call him, Thangul. The pedigree of all the living chiefs is fairly accurately established from Thangura. The Lushei, in common with the Thado and the other Kuki tribes, attach great importance to their genealogies and pedigrees given at intervals of many years. These are agreed to by persons living far apart. From Thangul sprang six lines of Thangur chiefs, Rokhum, Zadeng, Thangluah, Paliana, Rivung, and Sailo. Each clan in search of finding a suitable place for jhum (slash and burn-ed) cultivation started to penetrate towards the west until they found their settlement in present day Mizoram, however some of them migrated as far as Haflong (Meghalaya), Tripura in the west, Manipur in the north and the Chittagong hill tracts (Shakespear, 1912: 3). (e) The Lost Tribe tradition (Mizo Israelism): This belief has evolved among the Mizos now for more than forty years. According to Rev Lalbiaktluanga the first man who claimed that the Mizos belong to the Israeli tribe was Chala, a village man from Buallawn in 1951 (Lalbiaktluanga, 1989: 66). But Levy Benjamin stated that it was in 1936 that two men, Kapa and Saichhuma, claimed they belonged to the Israeli tribe. The Mizos have drawn every possible similarity between Israeli and Mizo culture in terms of customs and beliefs. Tracing back the origin of the Mizo we cannot totally ignore this belief, that the Mizo are the descendents of a tribe of Israel. According to the Holy Scriptures, in the Old Testament the Israelites were the chosen people, but due to their unfaithfulness to God, they dispersed to different parts of the world. Therefore this led to a diaspora in different parts of the world. But the Scripture prophesized that the Israelites would be gathered to the Promised Land again someday.

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Therefore, when Israel attained its territory in 1948, most of the Jews returned back to Israel. So, some of the Mizo believe they have the right to migrate back to Israel, where they belong. There is a different opinion among the Mizos, as to which Israeli tribe they are: Manasseh or Ephraim? One group claims that they were the Ephraim tribes who migrated to the east. They reversed the word ‘Luse’ or ‘Lushai’ as giving the meaning ‘Lu’ as ‘people’ and ‘se’ as ‘tenth’, that is, they belong to the tenth tribe among the twelve tribes of Israel. Ms. Zaithanchhungi, who has visited Israel several times, feels that the Mizo are the Manasseh tribe. Having been counselled by Rabbi Eliyahu Avichail, she has conducted research over eight years (Zaithanchhungi, 1992). She has connected her evidence to the sacrifices made by the Mizos. In the olden days, if a man became sick after coming back from jhum, the sickness was believed to be caused by an evil spirit. In order to please the evil spirit, the bawlpu (priest) would offer a sacrifice by chanting the name “Manasseh”. However Rev. Chuauthuama in his book Mizo leh Israel (Chuauthuama, 2002), disagrees saying that as far as Mizo history was concerned, such things never appeared as verses of sacrificial rituals chanted by the priest. He claimed that chanting the name of ‘Manasseh’ was coincidental and thus a self made history was constructed that never had a sound basis. The reason why some people claim themselves to be one of the lost tribes of Israel is due to the Christian missionaries. This opinion was shared by Dr. Myer Samra. But although this was the product of missionary teaching, this was not the intention of Christian missionaries (Samra,1992: 63). Rev Chuauthuama is of the opinion that there is a strong economic motive which makes them think that their life would be better in Israel (Chuauthuama, 2002:11). (f) Khampat Tradition: Leading Mizo historians like Vanchhunga, (1997) V.L Siama (1991), R. Vanlawma (1989:7), K. Zawla (1993, after the third edition) and B. Lalthangliana (2001), mentioned the existence of Khampat. Khampat was believed to be the oldest town ever built by the Mizo (believed to be the Lushei clan) in Burma (Myanmar) which was divided into more than ten sectors. The central block was called Nun Yar or Palace site wherein the ruler resided (Lalthangliana, 2001: 87)

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The Mizos had migrated from Khampat due to pressures from their enemies and also as part of the ongoing process of migration to the west. Before they dispersed, they planted a banyan tree with a firm belief that they would return one day when the branches of the tree touched the ground. By the time a section of the Mizo returned to the Myanmar and settled down in the areas around the Khampat site in the beginning of the 20th century A.D., the branches of the tree had already touched the ground. Thus, many of them considered it as a fulfillment of a prophecy (Zawla, 1993: 23).

Archeological sources a) Megaliths:Although the details of the spread and development of megalith monuments are not known, megaliths have two forms: dolmens and menhirs (Britannica, 1998:1010). The dolmen consisted of several upright supports and a flat roofing slab. The menhir (men-‘stone’ and hir-‘long’) are found in northern and western Europe and are also in southern India. Menhirs are simple upright stones of great size visible from afar. Though there is still a debate about megaliths and their functions, all megaliths have certain similarities world wide in architectural and technical features. Surprisingly, this type of stone has been found in different parts of Mizoram, mainly in the form of memorial stones. However, they were not studied scientifically enough for us to use as reliable sources, in spite of the fact that the megalithic culture of South and Southeast Asia has been well researched and has brought out important findings that relate to chronology and settlement patterns. 1. Sibuta Lung:The biggest menhir in Mizoram was found in Tachhip village about 20 kilometres away from the Aizawl- Lunglei road via Thenzawl. The stone is about 12 ft high and is about the cruelty and misrule of the famous chief Sibuta. According to the story, Sibuta, son of a concubine, was ill treated during his childhood by Darlalpuii, the daughter of a Tachhip chief. Sibuta, in his anger, pledged that one day he would take revenge on her. Darlalpuii in her vanity ignored these warnings and instead replied, saying, ‘If you become a king, you can kill me to fulfill khuangchawi’. In time Sibuta attained the chieftainship. He never forgot the vow he had made during his childhood. One day Sibuta performed the Khuangchawi

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ceremony. In normal situations, a Gayal (A domesticated bovine mammal [Bos frontalis] of India and Myanmar [Burma], having thick pointed horns, a dark coat, and a tufted tail-ed.) was sacrificed. But this time Sibuta decided to kill Darlalpuii in order to fulfill his vow. The villagers were shocked but did not resist for fear of being killed. Sibuta brought Darlalpuii and tied her up at a seluphan (sacrificial post), pierced her to death and hung her head at the top of the post. The Sibuta Lung was erected by the villagers to commemorate his cruelty. There is a saying that a stranger from Chin Hills of Burma was put inside the hole where the stone is erected. 2. Darthiangi Lung:This stone is located about 3 kilometers north of Farkawn village. Interestingly, the stone commemorates the love between Darthiangi and her husband Chertuala of Farkawn village. Darthiangi, from Dulzawl village, was young and beautiful and was married to Chertuala, the chief of Farkawn. But they were barren. So they decided to separate and while packing up to leave her husband, Darthiangi wept bitterly and sang a song of her own composition. A ia chan nuam che maw Zawllunghnemi, Kan khaw kar ah Hranglungphun thiang chang dun I, Chang dun ilang liankhua ah mi za selin.(Chaterji,1979:17)

Which means:Beloved, would you like to erect our memorial stone, To commemorate our deep and mutual love, Making everyone remember our names on this account.

The stone was erected jointly by Darthiangi and Chertuala. 3. Ridawpi Lung:The stone is round in shape and is 5ft high, 2 ft thick and about 2 tons in weight. It is situated in South Sabual about 45 kilometers south of Aizawl. It is the memorial stone of Ridawpi, the daughter of Lallula, the great Sailo chief. Ridawpi was the only daughter among Lallula’s five children. In 1760 Lallula raided Thlanrawn and killed about 300 men because the Thlanrawn people used to forcibly collect tax in the neighboring villages and were thus disliked by the people. Lallula secretly planned to stop the Thlanrawn from draining their wealth. To train the people, he first paid attention to the harvest and when they had

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enough crops he conducted diplomatic negotiations with the neighboring villages. These villages promised to help Lallula in bringing down the Thlanrawn. Lallula then sent two ambassadors to the Thlanrawn chief for purposes of gathering wealth from the village as suzerainty to their chief. So, a large number of Thlanrawn came to the village. At first they received a warm welcome. The Thlanrawn were entertained with a large banquet, and after they had drunk enough they returned to their respective guest houses. In the middle of the night a gong was beaten and the people of the village killed their guests. Out of the three hundred men only two or three men escaped. This had an impact among the neighboring villages and they stopped paying tribute to the Thlanrawn. This was the time that Ridawpi was born. When Lallula moved to Sabual his loving daughter died and in remembrance the chief erected the famous Ridawpi Lung. The stone bears the figure of a man and a woman with a smoking pipe. 4. Mangkhaia Lung:Mangkhaia was a son of a famous chief, Mangthawnga of Champhai, belonging to the Ralte clan. He was captured by the Chuaungo people and imprisoned. Vanpuia, chief of Pachuau, killed him on his way back home. His grief stricken father erected the memorial stone which is called Mangkhaia Lung. The stone is huge and shows human figures and heads on it (Shakespear, 1912:137). Mangkhaia Lung can be seen at the southern part of the Champhai valley near Zote village. It is unique as it is a massive structure with engravings of a series of human figures standing side by side with hands interlocked. This gives the impression of the veneration their spirits offer collectively to the great chief. According to A.G McCall, the stone is a monolith of the pre-Sailo occupation in the early nineteenth century (McCall, 1977:160). 5. Lungphunlian:Lungphunlian is a collection of six menhirs. There is a village named after these stones. The tallest one rises to 14 ft in height, and is 6 ft in width and 2 ft in thickness. According to R. Buragohain this was believed to have been erected by the Meitei because another rock is found nearby with Bengali script on it (Buragohain, 1992). Darchhawna is of the opinion that the stone was planted by the Reangs (Tripuris) who migrated from Manipur to Tripura in the later half of the nineteenth century. It is also believed that these stones were erected by the Vangchhia (one of the Mizo clans) who moved from

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Zote village to Lungphunlian. If the script was properly deciphered, we would obtain new windows into Mizo history. 6. Laituma Lung:This is a memorial stone of a young man, Laituma. The stone is engraved with figures of fish, animals and human heads. The stone is one meter and sixteen centimetres long and one meter four centimetres broad with a thickness of twenty five centimetres. The stone bears the figure of a man and a fish. This indicates that Laituma, due to his good looks and ability to win over girls, was envied by all the male villagers. As a result, a plot was hatched to trap him. One day Laituma was asked to dive. As soon as he entered the water all the men threw stones into the river. This resulted in the death of Laituma (Lalhmingthanga, 1998). A stone memorial was built for him. 7. Lalthangpuii Lung:Lalthangpuii Sailo was the eldest daughter of the chief, Lalsavunga Sailo. She had two sisters named Laltheri and Chawngpuituali and three brothers, Lalphunga, Vanhnuailiana and Thawmvunga who were all famous chiefs. They migrated to Lamtual from Darlawng and then to Zatezo (Mualpheng). While they were in Zatezo, Lalthangpuii, a virgin, died of tuberculosis. The family erected this stone in remembrance. There is a hole in the stone meant for hanging a gong. During that time Lalsavunga’s territory extended up to Lamtual and Ruallung. This huge stone was removed and taken to its present position by the chiefs of the three villages of Zatezo, Lamtual and Ruallung. The stone was taken from the ‘Dilkawr’ stream flowing at the eastern side about three kilometers away from its present position and half of the stone can still be seen at ‘Dilkawr’. 8. Zawlmangi Lung:Zawlmangi Lung is located between the villages of Ruallung and Rulchawm. The stone is 2.13 meters high, 2.15 meters broad and 74 centimetres thick. Zawlmangi Lung and Lungau lie side by side and the stone is engraved with naked female figures. We assume that Zawlmangi Lung may have been erected by the same people who erected Lungau. 9. Lungau:Lungau is located on the eastern side of Ruallung village. Its length is 1.52 metres with a breadth of 1.2 metres and a thickness of 1.5 metres. The

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literary meaning of ‘Lungau’ is ‘a screaming stone or frightening stone’. The stone has an interesting legend. It is said that in the olden days, this stone used to scream at dusk, making the people think that enemies were approaching. But when people found that they were deceived, they rolled the stone down into the stream. However, the stone returned each time to its original place. In course of time, a stranger (believed to be a man from the Lai clan) cut the stone in the middle and then the people in the village never heard the screams anymore. This is therefore a ‘living’ stone. 10. Lung Milem: This is a unique stone in Mizoram as the engravings clearly point towards a culture which does not seem to have touched the Mizo either before or after their mass conversion into Christianity. The figures in the engravings appear to indicate a Buddhist or Hinduist background. On the southern edge of the Tawikhawthlir hill, under the jurisdiction of Mualcheng village which is about 65 kilometres south of Lunglei, three pictures can be seen in bold relief against the stony background of the hills. These are about twenty inches in length; two of these are in a standing posture and the other in a sitting posture. The one in the sitting posture clearly indicates a typical meditation pose of the Hindus or Buddhists. Figures of this type have not been located anywhere else in Mizoram and indeed demand research (Chatterji, 1979:36). 11. Other Stones: Besides these, there are also some important stones which occupy a significant place in reconstructing the past history of Mizoram. They are Lalruanga Lung, Chhura Lung, Lungvando and Lallunga Lung. b) Stone fragments: No dependable inscriptions are found in Mizoram. Recently, a stone fragment (supposedly called an inscription) engraved on a stone tablet was discovered at Suangpuilawn about 150 kilometers north east of Aizawl. An attempt is now being made to make out the meaning of the script. When it is properly deciphered it will give our history a new look. Some scholars believe that it is the old Bengali script; however this supposition has not been backed up with evidence. The stone is still lying in the State Museum at Aizawl. There is a report that one copper plate inscription bears the name ‘Kukisthanan’ (the land of Kukis). According to Suhas Chatterjee (Chatterjee, 1988), Dharmadhar Swadharmapa or Chengpha was the Raja of

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Kailagadh. He invited a Kanauj Brahmin, Nidhipati, to his principality and granted him the land of Kukisthanan which is mentioned on the copper plate inscription. The second verse of the Sanskrit couplet states; Sri Nidhipati Vipraya Vastya Gotraya Dharmine Prehayang Longai Kukisthanan Pratichyan Gopala Nade. (Chatterjee, 1988: 102)

According to Suhas Chatterjee the English rendering of the verse is: To Sri Nidhipati, the Vatsya Gotra Brahman, the land bound in the east the Longlai and Kuki land and in the west the Gopola River.

The date of the Land grant to Nidhipati is given as 1195.

Foreign accounts The information we get from foreign accounts is also scanty. S.K. Bhuyan writes: ‘The old Assam Government did hardly come in contact with the tribes now living in the Lushai Hills though there is evidence to show that the Assamese did know the Kuki on their way through the Cachar Hills’. The neighboring people of the Cachar plains called Mizos ‘Kuki’ which means ‘wild hill people’ as they found the early Mizo to be culturally backward. (Gazetteers, 1998:84) King Rudra Singha (A.D. 1696-1714) deputed two envoys to Tripura and the envoys reported that they had met on the way some Kukis who looked like Nagas. The two envoys proceeded up the Barak River for four days and reached Lakhipur, the southern frontier province of the Kachari kingdom. From there, they took another five days through the Barak to reach the frontier of the Tripura Kingdom. The two ambassadors wrote: …having halted there for two days, we proceeded for five days and reached the mouth of the Rupini River which is the boundary between Cachar and Tripura. There is no human habitation in that place. There are hills on the both sides. After three days we arrived at Rangrung within the jurisdiction of Tripura. The hills on both sides of the Barak River are inhabited by a tribe called the Kuki who are like Daflas and Nagas here. There will be about three hundred men at that place; their weapons are arrows, bows, shields and Naga spears. The Tripura Raja appoints a governor over this place, and he is called Halamcha (Bhuyan, 1983:21).

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Rudra Singha sent the envoys to Tripura three times. Sangkima noted that the two envoys passed through the village (now called Sairang) about 20 kilometres from Aizawl on the way to Lengpui Airport. (Sangkima, 2002: 84).

Literature Tradition has it that the Mizos were once given a book (script), but due to their carelessness, a dog carried it away and that was how the script was lost (Sangkima, 2002). With the advent of the British on the hills where the Mizos dwelt; Christian missionaries started their mission with the Mizos. The two missionaries, J.H Lorraine and F.W Savidge, started education for the Mizos in 1894, of course mainly for propagating Christianity among them. The Roman script was introduced. Therefore the English are given credit for the first literary sources available. The earliest works about the Mizos were done by the British military and administrative officers who annexed and administered the area. Some of the earliest historical and anthropological works on the Mizo were written by Tom Herbert Lewin in three books: The Hill Tracts of Chittagong and the Dweller Therein (1869), Wild Races of the South-Eastern India (1870), and A fly on the wheel or How I Helped to Govern India (1912). Another book of this period was C.A. Soppitt’s A Short Account of the Kuki-Lushai Tribes on the North-Eastern Frontier with An Outline Grammar of the RangkholLushai Language and A Comparison of Lushai with other Dialects (1893). The military officers of the British army gave information about their military operations in the Chin-Lushai Hills: in R.G. Woodthorpe’s book The Lushai Expedition, 1871-72 (1872), in A.S. Reid’s Chin-Lushai Land: Including a Description of the various Expeditions into the Chin-Lushai Hills and the Final Annexation of the country, with Maps and Illustrations (1893), and in L.W. Shakespeare’s History of the Assam Rifles (1929). The opening up of the Tribal Research Institute sponsored by the government of Mizoram has brought out many texts. Some of these are confidential government reports. One of these, the Foreign Department Report on Chin Lushai Hills, September, 1892, describes the intense efforts made by the British government to bring the Chin Hills of Burma and the North and South Lushai Hills districts of India into a single administrative unit. Follow up efforts resulted in two important publications; the first was Bertram S. Carey and H.N. Tuck’s The Chin Hills: A History of the People, Our Dealings with them, their customs and manners, and Gazetteer of their

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Country, Vol. 1 (1896, reprinted 1976) and the other was John Shakespear’s The Lushei Kuki Clans, Parts I and II (1912). The original purpose of these books was related to the proposed amalgamation of three districts into one, but the proposal was not accepted in the end. They nevertheless made important contributions to our understanding of the essential unity of the people concerned in the region. To these should be added William Shaw’s Notes on the Thadou Kukis (1929) and G.A. Grierson’s monumental work, Linguistic Survey of India, III, 3 (1904), both of which made the same point from different perspectives. These books, based to a certain degree on anthropological analysis, showed us the nature of Mizo society and culture at a time when the area was beginning to come under alien administration. N.E Parry’s book A Monograph on Lushai Customs and Ceremonies (1928) offers a valuable insight into the culture of the Mizos. These books significantly altered the image of the Mizos. Robert Reid’s book The Lushai Hills (1942) deals mainly with the political changes that took place during that time and is supplemented by the anthropological works of N.E Parry, particularly Parry’s The Lakhers (1932). Parry had contact with the southern part of Mizoram and the Mara clan, which the Lushai called ‘Lakher’. He went in depth into the cultural activities of the Mara. A.G McCall’s Lushai Chrysalis (1949) is concerned with the traumatic cultural changes wrought through western contact through the Christian missionaries and government officials. McCall wrote that the main task of the government was to maintain law and order; however, their work was also to uphold and preserve the customs of the people. McCall believed that some change was not only inevitable but also desirable. While admitting that change was inevitable, he pleaded that it should be indigenously ignited and properly guided, and not forced on the people by ‘over-zealous’ outsiders. His book focused on government policies and he provided guidelines for the moral and economic development of the people. Mc Call wrote another book, The Lushai Hills District Cover (1972), prepared during 1938-39 as an official handbook for the administration of the district, with the same objective. Parry also sought to preserve the pristine nature of Mizo culture. He defended the institution of zawlbuk (bachelor’s dormitory) and sought to revive it. Similarly McCall defended the bawi system, but failed. The accounts found in the above books are sketchy and certainly not free from bias. However, they made great contribution to the understanding of certain aspects of Mizo culture.

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J.D. Baveja’s The Land Where Bamboo Flowers (1970) and L.B. Thanga’s The Mizos: A Study in Racial Personality (1978) provide fresh information about the socio-cultural life of the Mizos. Though one may not agree with the origins of ills in Mizo society, particularly the recent insurgency, Baveja’s conclusions concerning the Mizo personality are noteworthy. Mizo, he noted, is a person with contrasting ‘moods’ which are difficult to anticipate. Thanga agrees with Baveja that ‘A Mizo is not easy to understand’. To understand the ‘mood’ or, more accurately, the ‘mental aptitude’ of the Mizo is, in fact, the key to understanding the phenomenal growth of Christianity among them, which is the main concern of Thanga’s book. One way to study the interaction between Christianity and the culture of those who embraced it is to look at the impact of the former on the latter. An example is John Vanlalhluna’s Church and Political upheaval in Mizoram: A Study of Impact of Christianity on the Political Development in Mizoram (1985). Though it was not the main focus of his research, Hluna devoted three brief chapters to the growth of Christianity. Without attempting an indepth analysis of the reasons for it, Hluna attributed the rapid growth of Christianity to the Mission ‘Policy’ and its implications and, additionally, to the responses made by the Mizo people. The study of the impact of Christianity upon Mizo society has been undertaken by a number of writers, both westerners and the Mizos. The perspective from which such writing is usually done is that of missionary expansion. The earliest works of this type were Grace R. Lewis’ The Lushai Hills: The Story of the Lushai Pioneer Mission (1970), M.E. Bowser’s Light on the Lushai Hills: The Story of our Foreign Mission (1930), and David Kyles’ Lorrain of the Lushais: Romance and Realism on the North-East Frontier of India (1944). In common with most books of this type, these were written mainly to inform western readers and to solicit their support for the agents, the missionaries, especially for those activities that were successful. The Mizos were mentioned as only objects of missionary work. The descriptions of the people found in them were only a slight improvement over newspaper reports. The descriptions of the moral and religious life of the people were not reliable, mainly because their purpose was not to help their readers understand traditional Mizo culture sympathetically, but to solicit their support in bringing about changes ‘for the better’ in that culture. It is clear that this approach is inadequate both for the purpose of developing

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self-understanding among the Christian Mizos and for providing an adequate historical explanation. A recent work by Prof. Lal Dena, Christian Missions and Colonialism (1988), is mainly concerned with the relationship between the British and foreign missionaries in Manipur and Mizoram. He also has one chapter titled ‘Modus Operandi of the Missions and the Impact’ in which he described the way the missionaries working in the two states used similar methods. He noted that ‘the increase in converts was much more phenomenal in the Lushai Hills than in Manipur’. He attributes this partly to the different structure of the churches in Mizoram and partly to the united efforts of the missionaries belonging to different missions working in the area. While these are factors to be taken into consideration, they are subsidiary to the main factor – the nature and consequences of the encounter between Christianity and traditional Mizo culture which resulted in a distinctive kind of Mizo revivalism. An indepth analysis of these studies on the Mizos reveals that almost all of them were biased in writing the ethnography of the Mizos. Most of the studies are devoted to the ethnographic paradigm rather than providing an analysis of Mizo society.

Archival Records For historians of modern India the opening of the colonial archives made available a flood of information, and the use of this has contributed immensely to the understanding and assessment of developments in India during British rule. The availability of official records of the British made the writing of the history of India’s colonial period both exciting and also difficult in the past forty years or so. Till a few decades ago, the sources available to the historians were limited to some studies of viceroys, works on constitutional developments, some biographies and some general histories written mainly by British officers or British professional historians. But with the opening up of the official records and private papers, the entire colonial history of India has come to wear a new look. (Sarkar, 1986: 4). The annexation of Mizoram by the British in 1890 was followed by a process of consolidation and investigation into the indigenous forms of government. The British began to explore this area and wrote on the life of the people. These materials are available at the National Archives of India, New Delhi; State Archives, West Bengal, Kolkata; Record Office, Assam,

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Dispur and Record Office, Aizawl, now called State Archive; Record room, Deputy Commissioner of Cachar, Silchar. Documents relating to events in Mizoram under the British are also available in the Commonwealth Relations Office Library, London. The National Library, Kolkata; the Nehru Memorial Museum Library, New Delhi, may also possess valuable materials on the history of Mizoram.

Limitations of the Sources The most important task of the historian is to firstly relate the question of the kind of sources s/he has used and then to question as to how s/he made the sources speak. The oral history tradition holds out a hope for understanding the historical evolution of those societies without recorded history and where beginnings might have to be made with the interpretation of legends, myths and folklore. We should also acknowledge the part played by the English anthropologists in the classification of the ethnographic artifacts in terms of the ‘march of progress’. Anthropologists tended to view the practices of different cultures with an eye to their place on the scale of advancement with the instrument of the social order of the west at the civilized end. This was represented through displays of tools placed in sequential order from simple general purpose devices to more specialised artifacts so that the audience could follow the movement from the primitive to the complex. In doing so, the audience situated themselves at the top of the scale of advancement and the ‘other’ people to a position much lower down in the scale. Henrietta Lidchi argued that ethnographic artifacts were taken as the ‘material embodiment of the social-cultural complexities of the other cultures. The interventions of ethnocentric anthropologists ensured that these representations came to be seen as a ‘true’ account of how western societies had emerged and how they came to be seen as advanced’. (Smith, 2002:8) The main corpus of western writing was that of anthropologists who took the model of western society as the measuring scale of advancement. After their prolonged study on the African continent, the same strategy was applied to their studies on the Mizo. The famous Kipling poem ‘The White Man’s Burden’ reveals how it was the task of white men to civilize the ‘uncilivised’.1 The British officials represented the Mizo as savages; they were barbaric, head hunters, blood thirsty, etc. Their task was to maintain a record for convenient administration. Therefore they were bound by their

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officialdom. These were the first assumptions made by the outsiders on the unknown land. The missionaries overlooked the cultures and society of the Mizo. They wrote about the Mizo mainly to enable the easy spread of Christianity among them, yet the writings of Christian missionaries and Churchmen no doubt rendered valuable information. But while writing about Church expansion and the activities of different churches and missions, they failed to ask the question as to why Christianity found such a wide support base in particular areas of the region and what the casual factors were that led to the expansion of Christianity in tribal society. There is a need to assess the impact of Christianity on the social, political, economic and cultural fabric of the communities. One has to be aware that these sources are documents and to animate documents is not easy. Earlier writers about the Mizos failed to adequately utilize all sources. By using the document as it was, instead of cross checking the information contained in them with other sources, some of which have been pointed out here, they fell into the empiricist trap. Therefore they followed the footsteps of the British.

References Bertram S. Carey, and H.N. Tuck, 1896, The Chin Hills: A History of the people, Our Dealings with them, their customs and manners, and Gazetteer of their Country, Vol. 1, reprinted by Tribal Research Institute 1976, Aizawl. Bhuyan, S.K. 1947, Anglo Assamese Relations 1771-1828, Lawyer Book Stall, Gauhati. —. 1983, Tripura Buranji, Lawyer Book Stall, Gauhati. Biswas, Nikunja Behari. 1993, Historical Research in Arunachal Pradesh: Oral Source and Method, Proceeding of North East India History Association (PNEIHA) Shillong. Bowser, M.E. 1930, Light on the Lushai Hills: The Story of our Foreign Mission, The Carey Press, London. Buragohain, Romesh. 1992, ‘Lungphun as a source of Mizo History’, paper presented at the International seminar on Studies on the Minority Nationalities of North East India- The Mizo, Mizoram on 7-9 April, 1992. Chatterjee, Suhaj. 1988, Early History of the Mizos, Proceeding of North East India History Association, Ninth Session, Guwahati.

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Chatterji, N. 1979, Monoliths & Landmarks of Mizoram, Tribal Research Institute, Mizoram. Chuauthuama, Rev. 2002, Mizo leh Israel, Synod Literature and Publication Board, Aizawl. (In Mizo). Encyclopedia Britannica, Vol.7, 1998, Micropedia. Grierson, G.A. 1904, Linguistic Survey of India Vol- III: Tibeto-Burman Family, Motilal Banarsidass, Delhi. Hluna, John Vanlal. 1985, Church and Political upheaval in Mizoram: A Study of Impact of Christianity on the Political Development in Mizoram, Mizo History Association, Aizawl. Kipgen, Mangkhosat. 1997, Christianity and Mizo Culture, Mizo, Theological Conference, Aizawl. Kyles, David. 1944, Lorrain of the Lushais: Romance and Realism on the North-East Frontier of India, Sterling Tract Enterprise, London. Lalbiaktluanga, Rev. 1989, ‘Theological trends in Mizoram’ in Towards Tribal Theology: The Mizo Perspective, ed., Rev. K. Thanzauva, Jorhat. Lalthangliana, B. 2001, India, Burma leh Bangladesh a, Mizo Chanchin, Pblished by Remkungi, Mizoram.(in Mizo). Lewin, T.H. 1869, The Hill Tracts of Chittagong and The Dweller Therein; with Comparative Vocabularies of the Hill Dialects, Calcutta. —. 1870, Wild Races of the South-Eastern India, reprinted by TRI 1978, Aizawl. —. 1912, A Fly on the Wheel or How I Helped to Govern India, reprinted by Tribal Research Institute, 1977, Aizawl. Lewis, Grace E. 1970, The Lushai Hills: The Story of the Lushai Pioneer Mission, The Baptist Missionary Society, London. Lianhmingthanga, ed. 1988, Monoliths and Landmarks of Mizoram, Firma KLM Private Limited on behalf of Tribal Research Institute, Aizawl, Mizoram. McCall, A.G. 1977, Lushai Chrysalis, Tribal Research Institute, Aizawl. Nunthara, C. 1996, Mizoram: Society and Polity, Indus Publishing Company, New Delhi. Parry N.E., 1928, A Monograph on Lushai Customs and Ceremonies, Government Press, Shillong. Perry, N.E. 1976, The Lakhers, Firma KLM Pvt Ltd, on behalf of Tribal Research Institute, Aizawl, Mizoram. Reid, A.S. 1893, Chin-Lushai Land: Including a Description of the various Expeditions into the Chin-Lushai Hills and the Final Annexation of the country, with maps and Illustrations, reprinted by TRI, 1976, Aizawl.

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Samra, Dr. Myer. 1992,’Judaism in Manipur and Mizoram, By-Product of Christian Mission’ Seminar paper, International Seminar on Mizos, April 7-9 1992, Aizawl. Sangkima, 2002, ‘Oral sources of Mizo history’ paper presented at the seminar on Sources of the history of North-East India organized by ICHR-NERC, Guwahati, on March 12-14. Sarkar, Sumit. 1986, Modern India, Madras. Shakespear, J. 1912, The Lushai Kuki Clans, Macmillan & Co., London. Shakespeare, L.W. 1929, History of the Assam Rifles, reprinted by TRI, 1977, Aizawl. Shaw, William. 1929, Notes on the Thadou Kukis, The Asiatic Society of Bengal, Calcutta. Siama, V.L. 1991, Mizo History, Lengchhawn Press, Aizawl. (in Mizo). Smith, Mark J. 2002, Culture, Re-inventing Social Sciences, Viva Books Private Limited, New Delhi. Soppitt, C.A. 1893, A Short Account of the Kuki-Lushai Tribes on the NorthEastern Frontier with An Outline Grammar of the Rangkhol-Lushai Language and A Comparison of Lushai with other Dialects, reprinted by TRI, 1976, Aizawl. Vanlawma, R. 1989, Ka ram leh Kei, Lengchhawn Press, Aizawl. (in Mizo). Woodthorpe, R.G. 1873, The Lushai Expedition, 1871-1872. Aizawl. Zaithanchhungi 1992, Israel-Mizo Identity, Mizo Edition, ST Press, Aizawl. Zawla, K. 1993, Pi pute leh an thlah te chanchin, Zomi Book Agency, Aizawl. (in Mizo).



Notes 1

Rudyard Kipling published ‘The White Man's Burden’ in 1899, as an appeal to the United States to assume the task of developing the Philippines, recently won in the Spanish-American War. Today he might yet gain appreciation as a transmitter of Indian culture to the West.

PART III: TIME PAST IN CONTEMPORARY PERSPECTIVE

CHAPTER EIGHT REWRITING THE PAST: INTERROGATING THE IMPLICATIONS OF ADI DRAVIDA IDENTITY AND THE PANCHAMA HISTORIES IN EARLY TWENTIETH CENTURY TAMILNADU RAJ SEKHAR BASU

I The state of Tamilnadu has been witness to caste clashes in recent times. The clashes between the Thevars (a backward caste) and Pallars (a Dalit community) have been in the headlines of the national dailies for almost well over a decade1. It is often argued that the sense of self esteem and freedom among the Dalits (erstwhile depressed communities) resulting from the government’s protective discrimination policies has encouraged the landholding backward and upper caste groups to strengthen the foundations of the old social order.2 This strife torn atmosphere has generated some predictable responses from the grass roots level by Dalit activists in the region. The functioning and relevance of the governmental structure, as practiced and sustained by the post colonial state have come under close scrutiny and criticism. The attempts on the part of the Indian nation state to be the representative of all linguistic and religious groups have come under heavy attack. Indeed, all talk of plurality in terms of religious and cultural experiences has been looked upon as calculated moves aimed at eliminating the diverse experiences of groups operating within the contours of the Indian nation state structure.

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M.S.S. Pandian has argued that moral regulation by the modern state is integral to the existence of nations, as it remains an effective ploy in the creation of an ‘ever elusive homogenized citizen subject’.3 Since, citizenship does not have any ‘connotation’ what essentially is represented in the very personality of a citizen is a reflection of the changing power dynamics in a nation’s biography. Thus, it has been observed, ‘the contest around citizenship staged by those social groups that find themselves inadequately or not represented at all in the citizen’s figure, reproduces most often the very language of the nation’.4 In other words, while at one level, the claim to citizenship is presented as a claim to equality, at another level it is essentially a narration of irreconcilable differences. It is the other aspirations that strengthen the demands for an alternative nationhood with rights to an alternative state.5 Incidentally, there have been some moments in contemporary Indian politics when there were attempts to obliterate the language of the nation-state. The writings of the Tamil Dalit intellectuals known as the Pondicherry Group represent an example of such a trend. These intellectuals have attempted a rethinking on questions related to power and culture, more particularly in negotiating the complex issues linked to Tamil / Dravidian nationalism.6

II However, it would be wrong to argue that it is only in recent times that Dalit leaders have become interested in projecting their distinct identity that often runs counter to the cultural homogenization project of the upper caste / privileged social groups. In the case of Tamil Nadu, the Paraiyan community leaders, representing the largest and the most articulate groups, popularized the Adi Dravida identity for the entire depressed class population towards the end of the nineteenth century. The emergence of the Justice Party in the late 1910s offered a fresh impetus to this identity. 7 Nonetheless, the unresponsive attitude of some of the influential non-Brahmin leaders sometimes did lead to caste tensions. The consensualists, led by the Raja of Panagal, did not show much interest in mitigating the grievances of the ‘untouchable’ communities’. Their utter insensitivity denied the ‘untouchables’ the opportunity of exercising their influence over the decision making process, particularly in the local bodies. In such a situation, some of 'untouchables' expressed their distrust towards the Justice Party's slogan for a homogenous non-Brahmin bloc.8

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Thus, the task of building up a non-Brahmin Adi Dravida coalition proved to be a difficult one for the Justice Party elite. The non-Brahmin leaders like T.M. Nair faced a great deal of problems in mobilizing the Adi Dravidas for a broader non-Brahmin bloc.9 In fact, several Adi Dravida leaders expressed the opinion that neither the 'Brahmin sponsored Home Rule' nor the 'nonBrahmin sponsored Home Rule', would bring about changes in the condition of the ‘untouchable’ communities.10 Notwithstanding such differences of opinion, the majority of the Adi Dravidas, owning allegiance to the Madras Adi Dravida Janasabha, responded favourably to the Justice Party's ideological and political overtures. Nevertheless, the Adi Dravidas made it clear that they did not favour the merger of their identity with the broader political mainstreams, as represented by the Congress and the Justice Party. On October 1917, the Adi Dravidas requested the Justice Party to support social reform and treat them as their own brethren.11 The Adi Dravida leaders also reminded the non-Brahmin Congress leaders of the Madras Presidency Association (MPA) that they needed to accord them equality in terms of prestige and social status. The MPA leaders did not show much interest in accepting these demands and their differences with the Adi Dravidas remained irreconcilable.12 By 1918, rifts between the Adi Dravidas and the Justice Party also surfaced. The Adi Dravida leaders, owing allegiance to the Adi Dravida Mahajana Sabha, despite being critical of the Home Rule Movement, preferred to maintain a distance from the Justice Party. The efforts on the part of the Adi Dravida Mahajana Sabha to raise the demand of separate electorates brought out its eagerness to maintain a distinct political identity, instead of a constructed non-Brahmin identity.13 Thus, it was fairly evident that the Adi Dravidas preferred a measure of political autonomy and the choice of the appellation ‘Adi Dravida’ rather than Dravida reflected their desire for a distinct political and social identity. Though an understanding with the Justice Party was preferred, the Adi Dravida leaders pointed out that their interests were not always the same as that of non-Brahmins. The Madras Adi Dravida Mahajana Sabha preferred a more complex politics of identity. M.C. Rajah and other like minded AdiDravida leaders felt that there was a need to reconstruct the ‘Panchama history’ in order to preserve the distinct identity of the ‘untouchable’ communities within the vortex of non-Brahminism.14

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III By the late 1910s, an entirely new historical exercise aiming at rediscovering the ‘Panchama’ past led to the development of powerful critiques of both Brahminism and non- Brahminism. The Paraiyan community leaders not only attacked the Brahmanical notions of hierarchy and purity, but also exposed the subordination of the ‘Adi Dravidas’ at the hands of the upper caste non-Brahmins. The Adi-Dravidan, launched in early 1920, gave vent to the economic and social demands of the Adi Dravidas. The Adi Dravidan initially published a series of articles which sought to raise a new debate over the meaning of term ‘Sudra’. In an article published in April 1920, titled, ‘Are we Sudras?’ the anonymous ‘Adi Dravida’ author tried to establish the opinion that the term ‘Sudra’ had been mostly used to denote those races which had been vanquished by the Aryan invaders from the North. It was argued that such a term could not be applied for the Tamil people, since they had never tasted defeat in the hands of the Aryanic races. Incidentally, there was also an overt attempt to establish that Adi Dravidas were original inhabitants of south India, who in the past had enjoyed a superior social status, because of their close connections with the Tamil ruling groups.15 The ‘Adi Dravida’ leaders also tried to inculcate religious virtues among the ‘untouchable’ communities. The spiritual successes of saintly personalities like Tiruvalluvar and Nandanar were frequently published in the pages of the Adi Dravidan to prove that claims to social superiority did not depend on birth, but were determined by the qualities and actions of the individuals.16 Incidentally, attempts were also made to dispel the Brahmanical logic of an Aryan invasion of south India. The intellectual premise to such a thesis revolved around the argument that pre-Aryan Dravidian civilization was culturally superior to the nomadic civilization of the Aryans.17 Subsequently, the Adi Dravida intellectuals also tried to link the incidents of rural violence to the institution of caste. The growing incidents of caste violence in the southern Tamil speaking districts led to angry outbursts from the Adi Dravida leaders. They strongly criticized the Justice Ministry’s failure to quell these disturbances in the rural areas.18 These incidents also gave rise to debates among the Adi Dravida reformers and community leaders. While reformists like Swami Sahajanandam stressed cleanliness and moral virtues, others like Swami Advaidananda argued that ‘reform of Hinduism’, as advocated by Gandhi, would not be of much benefit to their

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community members.19 This debate also acquired a distinct political overtone, since the ‘Adi Dravida’ leaders unanimously opined that no real purpose could be served either by joining the Congress or the Justice Party. The concept of a homogenous non-Brahmin bloc as propounded by the Justice Party leadership also came in for sharp criticism by the Adi-Dravida leaders, who felt that a wide gulf separated the non-Brahmin upper castes from the ‘untouchables’.20 Thus, a section of the Adi Dravida leaders and intellectuals made use of the caste journals to establish their distinct socio-political identity. The debates revolving around the Panchama past as well as the socio-economic conditions of the ‘untouchables’, convinced them that their uplift could only be attained through the formation of their own caste associations. There was an expectation that formation of a caste association would provide the AdiDravidas with the opportunity to gain preferential treatment from the government.21 However, the politics of identity, revolving around the rediscovery of the Panchama past, did give rise to a lot of controversies in political circles. The government's decision to induct M.C. Rajah in the Madras Legislative Council under the provisions of the Montford Reforms scheme sparked protest from the Home Rule Leaguers. They criticized the government's decision to nominate a person, who was an ‘avowed Brahmin hater’.22 The Home Rule Leaguers proposed the name of V.G. Vasudeva Pillay, a Congressman instead of M.C. Rajah, for representing the depressed classes in the Madras Legislative Council. The Brahmin dominated Congress tried to engineer a conflict between the two rival groups of the depressed classes to scuttle all moves towards the projection of a distinct Adi Dravida identity. The Congress leaders sought to prove that not all sections of the depressed classes favoured a distinct identity as expressed through the usage of terms such as "Authee Dravidas".23 Significantly, these controversies centering round appellations caused splits among the depressed class leadership. The depressed class leaders opposed to M.C. Rajah felt that attempts to establish an exclusive ‘Authee Dravida’ identity represented the opinions of a section of the 'untouchables'.24 They argued that such efforts could win only special privileges for them, but would not place them on an equal footing with the caste Hindus. In one of the articles published in New India, a depressed class author stated that Rajah's attempt to foist an Adi Dravida identity on all the ‘untouchable’ communities would denigrate them more before the colonial bureaucracy.25

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In the early 1920s, the issue of Adi Dravida identity proved to be of immense political significance. The Adi Dravidas close to the Congress felt that nomenclatures like ‘Authee Dravida’, representing an inclination for a distinct brand of politics, was unacceptable as it was overtly communal. On the other hand, the non-Brahmin political elite expressed the opinion that though the Adi Dravidas were interested in projecting a distinct political identity, the non-Brahmin Adi Dravida political coalition needed to be given a proper shape through the creation of a monolithic non-Brahmin bloc.26 However, for Rajah and others having close connections with the Madras Adi Dravida Mahajana Sabha, the preservation of a distinct identity seemed to be the most important route to political success. Rajah felt that the ‘Panchamas’ would fail to win special concessions and adequate representation in the elected bodies, if they attempted to forsake their distinctive identity. At the same time, he pointed out that though there was difference between the Panchamas and non-Brahmins, temporary alliances with non-Brahmins could be worked out to stall the all pervasive Brahmin supremacy and for gaining rightful political status. Yet, by the early 1920s, as the Adi Dravida identity gained predominance, the conflict with the non-Brahmins became more and more pronounced. In most cases, the alienation of the Justice Party resulted from the reluctance of the upper caste non-Brahmins to accord a position of honour and pride to the depressed classes. In a sense, the domineering attitude of the upper caste non-Brahmins towards the depressed classes made the prospects of historic non-Brahmin bloc appear much too bleak.

IV It needs to be argued that by the early decades of the twentieth century, while there were attempts to bring the non-Brahmins and Adi Dravidas on a common platform based on a common Tamil identity, depressed class leaders displayed an inclination in preserving their own distinct identity and in creating new Panchama histories in support of their claims. Such historical exercises enable them to vouch for a degree of political autonomy and to indulge in critiques of both Brahmanism and non-Brahmanism in South India. Nonetheless, the attempts to historicize the past had considerable political implications. In fact, the usage of nomenclatures such as the Adi Dravida held immense prospects for an alternative and radical brand of politics in the long run.

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Notes 1 For more details, see ‘The New Resistance: Dalits and the Politics of Caste’, Frontline, 18 November- 1 December 1995, Vol. 12, No. 24; The Sunday Statesman (Calcutta edition), 15 September 2002. 2 For more details, see Broken People: Caste Violence Against India’s Untouchables, Human Rights Watch, New York, 1999, pp. 23-24. 3 M.S.S. Pandian, 1998, ‘Stepping Outside History? New Dalit Writings From Tamilnadu’ in Partha Chatterjee (ed.) Wages of Freedom: Fifty Years of the Indian Nation State, Oxford University Press, New Delhi: 292. 4 Ibid: 293. 5 The claim to equality which is often couched in the language of rights inevitably endorses the nation state as the sole arbiter of citizenship claims. This involvement of the nation state brings forth a homogenizing desire, resulting in innumerable number of differences. For more details, see ibid. 6 M.S.S. Pandian ‘New Dalit Writings From Tamilnadu’, op.cit. : 294. 7 The ‘untouchable’ communities utilized various nomenclatures to express their distinct social identity. In fact, some of them referred to themselves as Depressed Classes and Panchamas. The Paraiyans, who were numerically the largest among the ‘untouchable’ communities preferred to identity themselves as Adi Dravidas or Original inhabitants of south India in the early part of the twentieth century. The term 'Adi Dravida' was favoured, since it was felt that it would enable them to regain their lost status and free themselves from the pejorative flavour arising out of the usage of terms such as 'Paraiyan'. 8 David Arnold, 1977, Congress in Tamilnadu: Nationalist Politics in South India, 1919-37, Manohar, Monographs on South Asia, 1, New Delhi: 67. 9 For more details, see D. Gopala Chettiar, 1920, Adi Dravida Poorva Charitam (Tamil), published by Granthi Ramaswami Chettiar, Madras: 31-32. 10 Eugene F. Irschik, 1969, Politics and Social Conflict in South India: The NonBrahmin Movement and Tamil Separation, 1916-1929, University of California Press, Berkeley: 178. 11 Ibid: 71. 12 S. K .Gupta, 1985, The Scheduled Castes in Modern Indian Politics: Their Emergence as a Political Power, Munshiram Manoharlal, New Delhi: 187. 13 The Madras Adi Dravida Mahajana Sabha observed, “We are particularly desirous of a separate electorate being created for us. Representation by nomination is no representation at all.’’ New India, January 9, 1919. 14 V. Geetha and S.V. Rajadurai, 1998, Towards a Non-Brahmin Millenium: From Iyothee Thoss to Periyar, (Samya in association with the Book Review Literary Trust), Calcutta: 180-181. 15 In the article bearing the title ‘Are we Sudras?’ the author vehemently argued that term ‘Sudra’ had been applied to tribal races such as the Kols, who were vanquished by the Aryans. The author pointed out that there were several

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 references in ancient Tamil literature which proved that the Brahmin non-Brahmin divide was not very stringent. It was pointed out that in the ancient Tamil epic Silappadikaram, a Brahmin lady by the name Devanti was a close confidant of Kannagi. At the sametime, it was also pointed out that Brahmins worked in the house of danseuses. For more details see Adi Dravidan (Tamil) April 1920: 26-32. 16 In one of the articles which appeared in the Adi Dravidan on June 15, 1920, it was stated that Tiruvalluvar and Nandanar had crossed the barriers of untouchability by their unparalleled devotion or Bhakti. In another article which appeared on July 15, 1920, an author by the name of S.V.N. Alvar demolished the myth centering on the Aryanic invasion of south India. It was asserted that the indigenous people of south India i.e. the Dravidians possessed a culture of their own which was by no means inferior to the cultural elements of Aryan civilization. In other words, there was an attempt to emphasize the links between Dravidian civilization and that of the Indus Valley Civilization. 17 Adi Dravidan (Tamil), August 15, 1920: 93-95. 18 In fact, there were a series of caste riots in Ramnad involving the dominant rural groups and the Adi Dravidas, who were mostly ‘untouchable’ agricultural labourers. For more details, see Adi Dravidan (Tamil) August 15, 1920: 95-97. 19 Swami Advaidananda was particularly critical of the Congress leaders for treating the problems from an entirely moralist perspective. He felt that instead of exhorting the Adi Dravidas to lead a life of virtue, Gandhi could have initiated a through overhauling of the social system by undertaking movements in favour of temple entry by all classes of the society. Adi Dravidan (Tamil), May 15, 1921: 30-39. 20 Adi Dravidan (Tamil), June 15, 1921. 21 Adi Dravidan (Tamil), August 17, 1921: 82-84. 22 A report published in New India on August 2, 1919, objected to the nomination of M.C. Rajah on account of two reasons. In the first place, Rajah was declared on anti-nationalist, since he did not believe in the Indian nation, Secondly, he was condemned for his anti-Brahmin sentiments and for his attempts to establish a distinct “Autherc Dravida” identity. New India, August 2, 1919. 23 New India, December 23, 1920. 24 R. T. Ramakrishna Pillay in New India observed, ‘When there is a divided opinion on the subject and when there is a single representative in the Corporation (in this case the Madras Corporation) who can advocate one of the two sides, it is unfair for the Corporation to dispose off the case without hearing the other side. No non-Brahman can represent the other side unless the Panchamas are playing into their hands’, New India, July 23, 1920. 25 Ibid. 26 For more details, V. Geetha and S.V. Rajadurai, 1998, Towards a Non-Brahmin Millennium, op. cit: 176-177.

CHAPTER NINE ELECTRICITY, POLITICS AND REGIONAL ECONOMIC IMBALANCE IN MADRAS PRESIDENCY, 1900-1947 Y. SRINIVASA RAO

Introduction It is a well proven thesis that the development of technology and political ideologies will always have a reciprocal relationship. In colonial India, most of the scientific and technological projects were employed to serve the political motives of empire. Military, railway and shipping technologies are apt examples. Even the resistance from the colonized, which opposed the implantation of inappropriate technologies, was also based on the political ideology of the Congress and other parties of the colonial time. There was a three fold political conflict. First, there was a political conflict between the political ideologies of the colonial rulers and the Indian politicians. Second, there was a strong political rupture between those who admired western technology and those who proposed appropriate ways for utilizing western technology based on the Indian situation or proposed rejuvenation of Indian indigenous technology. While the first group consisted of Indian engineers and political visionaries (these people studied at foreign universities and institutions and, with the support of the colonial government, had confidence in western technology) as well as colonial officials, the latter group consisted of local engineers and political thinkers. Third, there were political conflicts between those who represented the interests of regions and caste communities. These three political divides were also evident in the development of the electricity system and the electrification of Madras Presidency during the colonial period. Among these political divides, region based political

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conflicts are important and relevant to the present, in which regional movements base their arguments on economic under-development. In the country like India, which consists of numerous linguistic, religious and caste communities, political representations made on behalf of these communities remain significant. Political representations on behalf of a linguistic community living in separate geographical units are even more significant. The process of the reorganization of Indian states on a linguistic basis after independence shows that political ideologies were the main reason for the emergence of regionalism.

The Politics and Development of Electricity Political ideologies and motives have always influenced the development of technology. In the case of the Madras Presidency’s development of an electricity system, it was political forces which had a major influence on providing the necessary trajectory for the development of the electricity system itself. It also enabled the system to be more responsive to the socioeconomic conditions of the presidency. From the very entry of the electric bulb down to the emergence of the huge electricity network in the presidency, the political community’s consistent constructive criticism and rationalized opposition forced the colonial government to design a viable electrification system to suit the Indian situation. Apart from the novelty factor there was fear over the large scale investment on huge power generation stations. In the course of time, since the political community was informed by the media about the positive benefits of the hydro-electric projects and the system had already proved its economic viability to the world, farsighted politicians foresaw the benefits of hydro-electric technology. Within India, the first ever big hydro-electric project on Sivasamudram, initiated in 1902 by the Mysore Government for industrial, agricultural and domestic necessities, soon proved its economic potential. It was seen as a symbol of economic prosperity. Convinced by the role of electricity in the development of the economy of the Mysore state, Sir C. P. Ramaswamy Iyer, the pioneer of modern technological projects in the presidency, believed that the presidency’s revenue deficit could be covered with revenue from hydro-electric projects. In 1925, when Rai Bahadur Narashimhacharulu, member in the legislative council, questioned the profitability of the Pyakara Project, C. P. Ramaswamy clarified that ‘the Mysore Government hopes to cover their revenue deficits by means of the profits from hydro-electric

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schemes.’1 Further, he retorted that if the Mysore Government could cover its revenue deficits from the revenue of hydro-electric stations ‘why not us?’ The Mysore experience provided a valid rationale and economic justification for Ramaswamy to pursue large scale power generation projects in spite of unfavourable economic conditions. He had a strong political will as well as an unshakable confidence in modern technology and technology-induced industrial and agricultural transformations. He not only believed that hydroelectric projects would contribute to the presidency’s economic development but also to the development of a grid system that would connect all parts of the presidency. Prior to the formation of the Hydro-Electric Development Branch, in 1927, Ramaswamy was involved in drawing designs for the planned development of power systems. He was also responsible for choosing one of the best British electrical engineers - Henry George Howard - for executing his dreams. Starting from 1926, he hoped that the Pykara would supply 37,200 kilowatts within five years and, when connected to the Mysore Scheme, yield a further 10, 560 kilowatts of electricity, he dreamt that the Pinjakavi Scheme with the Kunmbar connection would produce 18,000 kilowatts and he hoped again that Papanasanam would produce another 21,000 kilowatts.2 Apart from these farsighted plans, he played an important role in pursuing the South Indian Railway authorities as a potential customer of the Pykara hydro-electric system. At the same time, he concentrated on exploring nonrailway power demands for the Pykara. He had great belief in modern technology as a force that would transform the basic economic character of the presidency. Another area where political opposition had significant influence was in opposing the domination of foreign corporations and capital. Those leaders who sensed the danger of private power monopolies argued for the curtailment of the entry of private enterprises to generate hydro-electric power. The political community’s debate over private entry into power generation shaped the development of the electrification system itself. Almost all politicians opposed private agencies, especially the domination of British power generation and supply companies. Alleged attempts to give concessions to a London based syndicate received criticism from the political community and the press. Strongly advocating the state’s role in controlling power resources, The Hindu argued that ‘it is beyond doubt that it will be most injurious to public interests to let the control and development of hydro-electric power pass into the hands of private companies’3.

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The question of the control and financing of hydro-electric projects gained paramount importance once its profitability was exposed by the private firms. ‘The progress of the private companies which utilized the falls’, wrote The Hindu, ‘was looked upon with jealous eyes by municipalities which suspected that power would not be equally distributed by such bodies and they would be at their mercy’4 . Another news paper, Justice, opposed the idea of foreign investments in hydro-electric schemes: ‘It is no doubt true that the province will stand to gain much by way of increased facilities for industrial development by the execution of hydro-electric projects, but the feeling is strong and almost unanimous that such projects should be carried out by the aid of finance raised in the country itself.’ It pointed out further the legislative council members’ position on policy. Some of them, apparently moderates in outlook, seemed to agree to foreign investment but only if it was found absolutely impossible to raise necessary funds within the country. There were others who speculated the dangers of foreign domination through capital and rejected foreign investment. They suggested that if it was eventually found that Indian capital by itself was unable to finance the projects, it would be better to drop the idea altogether than to invite foreign financial assistance.5 The government, however, which had no definite financial policy for the development of electricity, kept private investment as an alternative method of financing huge hydro-electric projects.6 However, the Pyakara power investigation concession was granted to Messrs Alfred Dickinson B.D Richardson on behalf of a syndicate consisting of Messrs Dickinson, Richardson and Electric Company Limited, London.7 But the company’s work was not satisfactory. In the initial decades of power development, the private agency was at the helm of affairs while the state remained a controlling agency. Foreign corporations dictated terms. The colonial government naturally extended its co-operation to the British companies. The technology transfer of English companies was promoted (most of the technology of power generation for the Pykara station was imported from England). Initially, the technology was intended to be imported in consultation with Messrs Mrez and MacLean, Consulting Engineers to the Railway Board, Government of India. In later stages, many other companies, due to the flourishing electrical manufacturing trade, were roped in. This was done due to political pressure. The technological competitiveness of the London based companies was backward compared to those of the USA and Germany. The Members of the Legislative Council, the Raja of Ramanad and J.A. Saldanha, apart from criticizing the indifferent attitude of the government toward the transfer of technology, and

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being aware of developments in power generation technology elsewhere, suggested the importation of ‘better and cheap’ electrical technology from Germany, USA and Switzerland. But few political leaders elsewhere strongly opposed the importation of electrical technology from England. The strong political will and the opposition of the presidency’s political leaders emphasized developing indigenous capital, the proper importation of electrical technology and public ownership over private. Not only the political leaders but also the engineers of the presidency were politicized over this issue. K.V Karanath, Electrical Inspector with the Government of Madras, in his booklet Our Industrial Problems: an Engineer’s Views (1947) expressed an opinion on the co-operation between technologists and politicians. As an engineer and technologist he believed that these two communities ought to co-operate with each other in building an economically prosperous society. Illustrating the wide gap between these communities he opined that: The technologist, in throwing out to the world innumerable inventions, took it for granted that his object of helping the world to progress was enough to guarantee that whatever he was doing would be for its good. He overlooked the fact that his entire pre-occupation with machines and insufficient familiarity with human problems would distort his outlook to some extent. But actually it cannot but be so and the politician has found it out and is now pointing his finger at some of the buildings of the technologist. It would certainly have been better for the world if the technologists who work with materials and the politician who is concerned with men had worked together.8

Politicians tried to assign new functions to electricity. The prioritization of rural electrification over urban, proposing the establishment of small industries over big, rejuvenating indigenous industrial works using electricity and the de-centralization of industries were advocated. While the colonial government and colonial engineers were interested in everything big, most local politicians and engineers were interested in using electricity for serving immediate needs, rejuvenating dying industrial works, curbing the occurrence of famines and striking a balance between the urban and rural economies. Despite different advocacies and perceptions there was a noticeable cooperation between Indian politicians and foreign engineers. Sir C. P. Ramaswamy, Krishna Ayyar and Henry George Howard admired each other and shared each other’s ideas in devising plans for developing electricity in the presidency.

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However, the kind of cooperation that was needed from Indian politicians and engineers (both foreign and Indian) for electrification and solving Indian industrial problems was different from that of a non-colonial country. There were conflicting views on electrification for industrial development. Indian engineers trained abroad were in favour of using electricity for centralized industrialization but engineers trained in India were in favour of using electricity for small scale industrialization and for rejuvenating Indian traditional industries. K.V. Karanath’s larger complaint was that Indian electrical engineers ignored the ‘whole concept of Khaddar and hand made paper’. Most of them ignored the economic principles underlying the khaddar movement ‘since their training in engineering had not included a course in our peculiar economic problems and they did not care to make a special study of these.’ 9 He further complained that those engineers who studied mostly nothing but books on western technology always looked with admiration to the western industrial model and only opted for the culture of copying science and technology. Referring to the situation where a new boss (Indian government) was emerging in place of old boss (British government), Karanath urged the Indian electrical engineering community to mentally re-orient themselves to industrial development based on the Indian situation. For him, the admiration for the western model of centralized factory production by the Indian electrical engineering community was unhealthy. Their ideas and perceptions had to be reshaped. Plans for industrial advancement had to be redrawn on the ‘National lines’. There were some centralized industries such as textiles, sugar and cement, in which India had achieved self sufficiency. For instance, in 1940-41, the textile industry which was the largest single organized industry, imported only 7.3% of its needs. The rest of its requirements were met in India itself. The sugar industry imported only 30,000 tones in 1938-39. The cement industry manufactured 1,169,000 tones and imported a mere 32,000 tones. But these industries failed to provide employment to the growing population. Despite substantial industrialization all the registered industries and mines and railway works were able to provide employment to only 2.75 millions or 1.7 percent of the working population. In 1940-41 the textile industry produced 64.7 percent of cloths in mills and 28 percent in hand looms. Yet the mills employed a mere 460,000 workers as against 2.4 million main, 3 million auxiliary and about 7 million dependents, totaling 10 million supported by the handlooms.10 Mechanization of these mills had deprived enormous numbers of people from their means of livelihood. It had

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absorbed only a few in the mills. For a populous country like India industrial development had to be remodeled to provide more employment instead of reducing it. For Karanath, redesigning ‘Indian’ industrial development (industrial decentralization), through co-operation between the new boss (Indian politicians) and the technologists (Indian engineers) were necessary: for the successful importation and introduction of large scale technological systems co-operation between technologists and politicians was a basic requirement….politicians like Sir C.P. Ramaswamy, Krishna Nair and engineers or technologists like H.G. Howard, Col. Platts and G. Sundaram, worked with the utmost propinquity to accomplish their objective. Similarly, the bureaucratic community, who decided the ways of utilization and implementation of electricity; businessmen and manufacturers, who decided what technology to be manufactured and to be marketed; and the local educated, who decided what technology was appropriate to the society, all shaped the trajectory for the development of electricity with different ideas. There was reciprocal relationship between development of electricity and the above mentioned communities. While technology influenced the thinking of these men, the way they perceived electricity contributed to the development of different trajectories for its development.

Karanath, electrical inspector to Madras Government, clearly stands as an example of the fact that engineer’s ideas and perceptions were subject to the influence of ideologies and formed in societal contexts. He was influenced by the Gandhian ideology. Being a professional and a follower of Gandhian ideology created a dilemma for him. As an engineer he was well aware of the fact that modernisation was unavoidable. But at the same time, as the representative of a particular ideology, he could not convince himself that huge, centralised factories would be the ultimate solution to Madras Presidency’s industrial development. In his small booklet on industrial problems, in 1947, he expressed this dilemma: I feel I am qualified to write on the subject since I took to khaddar (homespun cloth Gandhi advocated-ed) twenty five years ago and have worn it consistently ever since and have tried to understand to some extent the literature on the same and other village industry movements. My training as an engineer has often put me into mental conflict with the ideologies of the village industries movement but they had in me a sympathetic critic unlike most other engineers who had not the basic outlook necessary for a proper study of the same.11

Based on Gandhian ideology, he strongly opposed the establishment of huge production centres. Instead he suggested establishing small factories in villages and towns. Gandhi noted, as quoted by Deepak Kumar, ‘it is

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machinery that has impoverished India… Machinery is like a great snakehole which may contain from one to hundred snakes. Where there is machinery there are large cities, there are tram-cars and railways… honest physicians will tell you that where means of artificial locomotion have increased, the health of the people has suffered’12. Hence Gandhi not only objected to the centralisation of production with the help of electricity but he also did not like the idea of a centralised electricity generation and distribution system. Responding to an American friend’s question on whether he was satisfied with Ford’s favourite plan of the decentralisation of industry by the use of electric power conveyed by wires to the remotest corner, instead of coal and steam, as a possible remedy, Gandhi replied, ‘My objection won’t be met by that because while it is true that you will be able to produce things in innumerable areas, the power will come from one selected centre. That, in the end, I think, would be found to be disastrous. It would place such limitless power in one human agency that I dare not think of it. The consequences, for instance, of such a control of power would be that I would be dependent on that power for light, water and even air. That, I think, would be terrible’13. This clearly shows that Gandhi was never in favour of utilising electricity for the establishment of centralised production centres. His views suggest that he wanted equal distribution of electricity to all villages with individual power generation stations at every village. Gandhi did not oppose electricity as a technology. But his aim was that it should serve the needs of villages more than the urban areas. Karanath, being a stanch follower of his mentor’s ideologies, strongly believed that the obsession of technologists and scientists with the creation of large scale technologies could only be countered by politicians who were concerned with larger human questions.

Unconnected Network Enthusiastic engineers and ambitious policy makers believed that the supply of cheap electricity would result in improving the standard of life of people all over the presidency. These men, who further believed that this could only be achieved by connecting the entire presidency with a supply network, proposed to network (grid system) the whole presidency. The idea of a grid system originated in the United States, but was not so popular in the United Kingdom till the First World War. But electrical engineers and politicians, in India, conceived the possibility of a single grid from 1927. Sundaram

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claimed that all schemes were designed to fit rationally into the grid in his retirement speech.14 The Madras government in a press note in 1946 reiterated that: ever since 1927, the Madras Government, has been contemplating a scheme of interconnected power houses, hydro as well as thermal, located at suitable centres feeding a network of distribution lines covering both towns and villages. All the electricity projects constructed so far were designed to fit into an electric grid which was to be gradually developed till its power resource would be adequate to serve the whole presidency.15

However, the presidency’s electricity network remained unconnected till the end of the 1950s. But attempts were made to explore possibilities of supplying power to deprived areas such as Andhra Pradesh and the Ceded Districts by extending distribution lines from Pyakara and by borrowing power from Mysore and Orissa. Fresh power demand surveys were conducted to enhance the capacity of thermal power stations. Another possibility of supplying power to non-hydro-electricity areas was buying power from neighbours such as Mysore State and Orissa Province. The Mysore government provided power to the border areas of the Ceded districts. The Madras government had also sought the co-operation of Orissa province. Both governments agreed to utilize the waterfalls at Machkund along the border of these two presidencies. They planned to lay supply lines from the border of Orissa Province down to the central parts of Andhra, where commercial and business centres were emerging due to extensive irrigation projects, and the commercialization of agriculture and the colonial government’s project of connecting urban spaces. However, due to administrative problems, this site was not utilized till independence. The government was unsuccessful in interconnecting the thermal and hydroelectric grids and towards the end of 1947 the presidency’s electricity generation system was converted into two separate grids: the hydroelectricity grid consisted of three big hydro-electric power stations Pyakara, Mettur and Papanasam; the thermal grid consisted of thermal stations at Vizagapatam, Bezawada, Coconada and Kurnool. With an installed capacity of 110,000 KW, investment on these separate grids crossed Rs. 8 crores. Another 80 electric supply licensees, comprising local bodies and private companies, invested Rs. 5 crores. These three agencies together generated 413. 88 million units of which 79% was generated by the government’s ‘Madras Grid’. Thus the government, with limited partnership of private agencies, developed one of the most important large scale technology systems in British South India.16

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These two different grids - thermal and hydro – of the presidency emerged in two different parts of the presidency. The southern part of the presidency was connected with ‘hydro electric grid’. The northern part was served by the ‘thermal power grid’. These two systems or grids were not connected with each other until later. This development i.e. the emergence of the thermal grid in the North (Telugu speaking area) and the hydro-electric grid in the South (Tamil speaking area) led to political and economic differences between these two regions. Engineers and policy makers cited geographical reasons i.e. the uneven distribution of power resources. But these justifications failed to convince the politicians of the North, and the difference in the power generation capacity of these grids led to the emergence of regional conflicts on the power issue which continues even today. Table 1 Name of power stations which were part of ‘Madras Grid’ I Hydro-Electric Schemes Installed Capacity Total in K.W 1. Pyakara Hydro-electric Schemes 43,000 (PHES-1932) 2. Mettur Hydro-electric Scheme 40,000 (MHES-1937) 3. Papanasam Hydro-electric 28,000 Scheme (PHES-1942)

II Thermal Electric Schemes MESC (1905)

Installed Capacity in KW 48,000

Vizagpatam Thermal Station ( VTS1937) Bezawada Thermal Station (BTS1938) Coconada Thermal Station (CTS)

3,750

Kurnool Thermal Station (KTS)

5,000

Total 1, 11,000 Total

6,000 5,350

Total 68,100

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The statistics indicate that the thermal grid in the northern presidency was capable of producing only 20, 100 KW (minus 48,000 KW of MESC from 68,100 KW of thermal facilities). This low production factor played a dominant role in the industrial underdevelopment of both Andhra and the Ceded districts. Table 2 Showing Detail of Number of Agricultural Electric Pumps and Industries that Received Electricity from the un-combined Madras Grid Scheme Name PHES MHES PHES VTS BTS CTS

No. Electric pumps 2902 1202 142 10 161 2

No. Industries 254 295 120 4 17 8

(Source: G.O., No. 2438W, PWD, dated 12 .8.1947).

Given the technological advantage, the hydro-electric power stations of the southern part were interconnected and formed into a strong hydro-electric grid but the thermal system in the north, because of its disadvantageous nature, failed to emerge into a grid. This worked against the much publicized plan of networking the entire presidency. It was believed that the north part should have one hydro-electric station to achieve the object of a single grid. But the only one possible hydro-electric station, Machkund, was not executed until independence because of inter-provincial administrative reasons. 17 European engineers, who conducted surveys at the Machkund site, found that this scheme certainly paid. A.W. Roberts, Executive Engineer, HydroElectric Surveys, complained that this scheme was not given enough consideration: ‘As I see that little or no importance seems to have been attached to the Kolab scheme….This scheme might prove a gold mine if the bauxite deposits reported to exist in the neighbourhood are actually to be found in sufficient quantity. This point certainly requires early investigation as it pays to bring the ore from great distances to factories’18. This was a post- war reconstruction scheme. Using the Dum Dum water falls of the Machkund River, located in Vizagapatam and sharing a border with Orissa, the scheme was supposed to develop in association with Orissa Government.

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Both governments had agreed to share the capital costs in the ratio of 70:30. The main aim of this inter-provincial collaborative scheme was to supply power to Vizagapatam, Guntur, East and West Godavari and Krishna districts, of present Andhra Pradesh. 19 From 1936, the Madras government sincerely tried to construct hydroelectric stations to satisfy the power needs of the Andhra districts, but failed in its attempts. Thermal stations made a meagre contribution to the economic development of the northern presidency. The Coconada, Bezawada and Vizagapatam sites were three important and economically viable projects. Because of their sound financial viability, state ownership was advocated by council members like P.V. Krishanayya Chowdary.20 The Vizagapatam and Bezawada Thermal Power Stations were two important power stations intended for the north part of the presidency, sanctioned by the government in 1936 and starting commercial operations from March 1938 and March 1939.21 The Coconada Thermal Scheme, which was sanctioned in 1938, took over the municipal oil-engine power generation station and installed thermal power plants to supply power to Coconada, Samarlakota, Peddapuram, Pithapuram, Ramachandrapuram and Mandapet.22 In order to electrify Godavari district, the Godavari Electrification Scheme was sanctioned in 1941. However, it was shelved immediately due to war.23 Lack of resources and inadequate power demand were the two main reasons for the colonial government’s disinterest. However, irrigation projects and the commercialization of agriculture offered chances for increased electricity consumption. The rich agriculturists of the Krishna and Godavari basin, who became ‘peasant capitalists’, established agro-based industries in the region. This situation led to a demand for electricity from industries such as cotton ginning, groundnut, flour, sugar and rice mills. Coastal towns like Coconada and Rajamundry and market towns like Bezawada and Gudivada, which again were big municipalities, provided a considerable amount of power demand to thermal power generation stations. Bezawada, Machilipatam and the Andhra Cement Company were the main power consumers. At the most, these thermal stations were only capable of serving urban needs and supporting small agro industries within these towns. They could not support industrial development and agricultural improvement in these regions. Realizing this fact, Howard felt that the industrial development of this region could not be postponed indefinitely. He recognized that unless and until cheap-hydro power generated the region, industrial development would not be possible. However, he was left with no choice but to

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concentrate on thermal power, but then he constantly worked to explore hydro-electric resources at Kolab and Lammasinghi. Despite all these efforts, he did not think that this area could provide sufficient power demand for a hydro-electric plant. In 1937, in his report on the Lammasinghi scheme, Howard pointed out that ‘the scheme is expected to be economically feasible only when sufficient demand for power is created in a few years’ time with the help of the Vizagapatam and Bezawada thermal stations. There is thus no immediate necessity to commence the construction of this scheme’24. Thus it was postponed and was not taken into consideration again. Even after realizing that this area had less potential in offering power demand, the government did not conduct any propaganda programmes as it did in the hydro-electric areas to improve it. Neither the Vizakapatam nor the Bezawada plant had a considerable amount of power load. The Vizakapatam plant depended upon non-industrial power load i.e. power demand from the harbour, the Anakapalli licensee, the Machilipatam municipal council, the Bobbili licensee, the Kodur and Grabham Mines and the Vizainagram municipal council. The Bezawada plant offered some industrial load. It was a paddy growing area; and it was studded with rice milling factories. The government made few efforts to attract these mills to electricity. The conversion fund systems contribution was little. In fact, Howard did not sanction many loans under this scheme. Commenting on the suitability for electrification, Howard reported that, ‘the standard of living of the majority of people is so low that anything like the standard of electrification prevailing in say the Coimbatore district is not to be expected but it is hoped that it will be possible to encourage small industries, electrically operated, which in turn by increasing employment and general prosperity will lead to the greater utilization of electricity’. 25 Similarly, the Ceded districts had not attracted the government attention because of poverty and the lack of power load. Due to this reason, the government had not entertained any kind of ideas on exploring power resources until 1936. It was in this year that the map of Madras Grid was modified a little bit according to future construction possibilities in the Ceded districts but these plans were tentative and preliminary.26 For instance, a small pumping scheme worth Rs 20,000 was sanctioned to check or to survey the possibilities of furthering surveys on underground water resources. 27 Pinto, known as the ‘water diviner’ of the industries department, conducted rough hydro-geological surveys on ground water resources in Cudapha district.

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Though engineers conceived the idea of a single grid in the mid 1920s itself, it was only after the commencement of the Pyakara Station from 1935 that the process was intensified. The Electricity Committee that was commissioned to enquire into the working of the electricity system recommended that bulk supply by an efficient agency viz., government to distant areas, would result in yielding greater revenues. This paved the way for the state to participate in distribution and for the development of a huge hydro-electric network in the southern parts of the presidency. In 1937, to realize the national power facility scheme, the government outlined its policy covering every district of the presidency except South Kanara. With the aim of connecting the entire presidency, the government committed these amounts, shown in table 3, annually from 1938 to 1945. 28 Table 3: Annual Expenditure (in lakhs) on Electricity Projects Year 1938-39 1939-40 1940-41 1941-42 1942-43 1943-44 1944-45 Total

Hydro 80.00 70.00 102.00 20.00 18.00 17.00 26.00 333.00

Thermal 40.00 20.00 15.00 1.00 9.00 9.00 3.00 97.00

Total 120.00 90.00 117.00 21.00 27.00 26.00 29.00 430.00

(Source G.O., No.2679, dated 23.12.1937, Note on National Electrical Development in the Presidency).

Though there were variations in the capital amount allocation to the development of electricity, there was certain continuity as well. Based on political pressure from the northern parts of the presidency, and to satisfy a growing and genuine industrial and agricultural power demand, the government made capital allotments for the extension of supply lines and for the enhancement of power production. This was very closely linked with the larger project of connecting the whole presidency with the power network. H.G. Howard classified the whole presidency into ten power areas. The hydro-electric areas were 1) Pyakara, 2) Mettur, 3) Papanasam, 4) Lammasinghi (the only possible hydro-electric site in the northern parts of the presidency which was under investigation by 1936) and 5) Periyar. The thermal areas were 1) Madras 2) Vizagapatam, 3) Bezawada, 4) Rajamundry and 5) Ananthapur. 29 This classification helped draw plans for networking

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the whole presidency. In 1937 the government enthusiastically designed plans to electrify the whole presidency under the scheme of ‘National’ Electric Development’. Here, the nation refers to Madras Presidency. These plans for electrifying the whole presidency were motivated by the economic interests of the colonial government and political pressure from the political and educated community of the presidency, especially from the people of non-hydroelectric areas. However, these enthusiastic plans did not materialize because the power demand factor (economic factor) stood as a barricade to the connection of the thermal and hydro electric systems of northern and southern parts of the presidency. To undo the imbalance the Electricity Committee proposed to extend bulk supply lines, the idea being to cheapen electricity as far as possible to accelerate the resource exploration process by promoting industrial and agricultural production. In other words, cheap electricity supply had a close relationship with the speedy extraction of industrial and agricultural wealth of the presidency, but it also brought many acres of land into cultivation and many kinds of cottage industry and industrial works were mechanized. Nonetheless, cheap electricity supply needed technical expertise, an adequate amount of capital and business management. According to the William Committee of England, factors which governed the cheap electricity system were ‘combined generation within the suitable areas; well suited stations having regard to condensing water, fuel, and distance from consumers; modern and large units of the generating plant; uniform standards of system, frequency and pressure; greater freedom for overhead wires; good technical and business management; and finally, adequate and cheap capital.’30 So, the engineering community believed in the state agency for an efficient cheap electricity transmission system. Many foreign engineers were in favour of developing large scale power systems. H. Burkinshaw, Agent and Chief Engineer of the MESC, responding to the Electricity Committee queries on the economic rationality of grid system and big power generation stations said, ‘the larger the power station and the greater the load factor, the cheaper would be cost of generation at the power station’. Nevertheless, he was not sure that the ‘big’ system would always be better than ‘small’. For instance, in England there were many small individual power stations which supplied electricity at cheaper rates, but the efficiency and survival of the small power generation stations depended upon the power load factor. So the advocacy of ‘big’ and ‘small’ grid or

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‘isolated individual system’ would depend upon the existing power load situation. Burkinshaw was definitely in favour of the grid system. However, to him, the choice of a system of power generation and power supply depended upon the existing power load situation, which was complex and complicated. He concluded that ‘each case must be studied separately’.31 The local media played a constructive role in the development of the electricity system. Experiences of industrialized countries in electricity development provided a base for the media to debate what system was needed for the presidency. England, where the electricity systems developed on chaotic lines, seemed a dangerous and unsuitable model for the presidency. When the Electricity Committee was commissioned in 1935, the local media was worried about the recommendations of the committee. Being aware of the existing system of supply and generation in England, The Hindu, afraid that the committee would recommend the same kind of system, warned that generation, supply and the use of electricity in the province should not be allowed to proceed on chaotic lines. In England in the pre-grid days, because of a parochial policy, there existed 438 stations owned by authorized undertakings, and not more than about 50 were regarded as being really of a suitable size and efficiency. While 28 stations generated 50 per cent of the total energy, the remaining 322 stations between them only accounted for 4 per cent. These chaotic developments led to different types of stations with differing frequencies. Inter-connection was not carried out as a definite policy.32 In contrast, The Hindu advocated for the Madras Presidency a ‘great national unified system for the supply of electricity, produced in areas most advantageously situated for the same and distributed by main transmission lines carrying cheap power to every corner of the country in order that agriculture and industry might be helped and the life in the rural areas as well as urban enriched and brightened’33 Though the media did not pay adequate attention to the emerging regional imbalance in power generation facilities, its constructive criticism on the method of power system development and its concern over the even supply of power to the industry and agriculture of the entire presidency, addressed the issue, at least.

The Fight for Technology: Political Tensions The introduction of electricity improved socio-economic conditions in the presidency but also created an unbridgeable economic imbalance between the northern and southern regions. Protagonists of electricity projects (H.G.

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Howard and C.P. Ramaswamy) tried to pacify political differences between the politicians of these two regions. They cited geographical resource distribution as the main reason for regional imbalance in the electricity system. Despite their attempts, the issue was debated extensively in the Madras Legislative Council. The debates clearly expose existing differences between the political leaders over the distribution of electricity generation facilities. Initially, the house was divided into two categories: the first category, with a total approach, was concerned about the electrification of the whole presidency but ignored the imbalance in distribution for known reasons; and the second category, with more of a regional perspective, neither questioned the lopsided distribution nor hindered further development of the system with their opposition but advocated instead the possibility of extending the system in the future. However, the fast moving process of societal transformations in areas such as Coimbatore, Tinelvelley and adjacent areas, where cheap hydro-electric power was generated, intensified the debate. Political leaders from non-hydro-electric areas (the entire north part of the presidency, Malabar and other parts of Tamil speaking areas), who had seen electricity as an agent of transformation, demanded cheap power and the extension of distribution lines as well. MLCs such as Mr. P.M Thangal asked for an investigation of the Vigittiri Hydro-electric Scheme for the Malabar area,34 P.V Krishnayya Chouderi demanded hydro-electricity production in Telugu speaking areas at Kolab and at the Krishna Reservoir project. Chouderi, apart from his regional concern, also expressed concern over the electrification of the whole presidency, and criticized the unrealistic electricity propaganda.35 Howard too recognized the regional imbalance between the south and the north in terms of the distribution of power generation facilities. Though he was well aware of the debate he never tried to interfere. He tried to justify regional imbalance as an unfortunate development for which nobody was responsible. Nonetheless, surrendering to the pressure of the directors of industries (who saw the possibilities of industrial load) and detecting the strong dissent that was building among the political leaders representing Andhra and the Ceded districts in the Legislative Council, in 1935 he openly stressed the need for developing power generation facilities in the northern parts. In the administration report he said 36 : Although the hydro-electric schemes capable of immediate economic development are located in the south of the presidency, that fact should not

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be permitted to retard the development. A country rich in natural resources must obviously be more favored than the one which is not so fortunate. The development of water power is, from a broader point of view, more advantageous than power from coal or other fuel, and then power facilities should be provided by thermal plants. Hence all economic water power sites in the south are to be developed as soon as possible. While, at the same time, power facilities may be extended to the northerner part of the presidency, where hydro-power is not available, by means of thermal stations using Indian coal and, as suggested by the director of industries, supplanted possibly by wood from casuarina plantations and groundnut husks.

Despite the government’s arguments, the way certain factories were started in Coimbatore (developed mainly because of the availability of cheap power from the Pyakara power station), the way thermal stations in Telugu speaking areas were treated and finally the way the southern political leaders objected to the starting of even thermal power generation stations in Telugu speaking areas, gave rise to a suspicion of the intentions of regional politicians. P.V. Krishannayya Chouderi, during the budget sessions in 1936, pointed out that the management of a cement factory, before they shifted to Coimbatore, had planned to start the factory at Bezawada. They had better coal supply facilities from the Singareni Collieries for cheaper rates but for the sake of cheap electricity they shifted the factory to Coimbatore. Hence he argued that the Telugu speaking areas also should be provided with electricity resources. Despite having an upper hand in electricity resources and generation facilities, politicians from the southern part sometimes opposed the sanctioning of thermal power generation facilities to the north. Chouderi questioned the narrow minded attitude of Nachiyyappa Gounder, who opined that the northern presidency needed no more thermal power generation stations under the pretext that they were not economically viable. Chouderi retorted that the Tamil country already had a monopoly over power resources. The amount of capital invested on power generation and distribution facilities of these regions clearly indicates that there was a huge imbalance in the distribution of the electricity system. Till 1936, the investment on electricity projects in southern parts of the presidency was around Rs. 20,334,473 and the investment on electricity projects in the northern parts of presidency was only Rs. 5 million.37 Further, there was also a visible absence of Telugus in the Electricity Department’s organization. After believing that an injustice was done to the Andhra people in the Assistant Electrical Engineers selection in 1939, Mehaboob Ali Baig Sahib Bahadur raised this question 38 :

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Chapter Nine I am afraid that this criticism might be put down as petty-minded and selfish and might be answered by stating that the appointment of officers based on community, race or locality is derogatory to the principle of efficiency. This bogey of efficiency and merit, demand for fair treatment, is being trotted out in season and out of season by the Government responsible for services and by the communities that are monopolising the services and are dominating the services. Whatever justification there may be for that attitude to subordinate positions in the services, especially in the Public Works Department, is staring us in the face. Agitation of the separate province is due not a little to the inferior position occupied by the Andhras in the services. It may be the Tamilians are, as our Premier undoubtedly is, cleverer and more efficient.

This was termed by Sri. C. Rajagopalachariar as a wrong assumption. However, it appears that the separatist movement in Andhra was not only on linguistic lines but also for economic reasons. The hydro-electric system’s development in the southern parts of the presidency actually intensified the separatist movement in Andhra. Mahaboob Bahadur believed that these circumstances were responsible for Andhra’s claim to separate statehood: ‘Because they (Andhra people) feel that as along as they are attached to the apron-strings of the Madras Presidency their position will continue to be so. They would rather say, “We will have self-government instead of better government”’39. Though the underdevelopment of the electricity generation system in the northern parts of the presidency was attributed to power resources, many politicians belonging to the northern parts believed that it was due to lack of a strong political representation. They thus failed to get an equal share from electricity induced economic development. Chouderi believed that lack of personalities such as Sir C. P. Ramaswamy from the Telugu speaking areas was one of the main reasons for underdevelopment.40 Though it is hard to ignore the political motives of the then Telugu separatist movement, it seems separatists used economic underdevelopment as one of the main justifications in the demand for a separate state. The Legislative Council and Assembly Members, belonging to the Telugu speaking areas, advanced the same kind of argument that the Telangana separatist movement is putting forward today (separate statehood in present Andhra Pradesh on the basis of neglect-ed). This continuous warfare between politicians slowed down the progress of electricity but, we should remember that this political battle resulted in the spread of electricity into the Ceded and some parts of Andhra districts.

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The introduction of electricity opened up new challenges to Indian society. As a tool of economic and social transformation, it restructured society but at the same time it created unrest and gave birth to new problems. As provider of new opportunities it surely opened up new vistas but at the same time the monopolization of new opportunities and employment by the upper caste (advanced class) resulted in caste and class based problems. Once the economic potential of electricity was proved to the public, various social groups (both religious and caste) who were economically powerful not only appropriated this technology, but also controlled the opportunities opened up by the electricity system. The immediate appropriation of this new industrial and technical space created by the English educated upper caste Hindu population was challenged many times since. There were representations for the democratization of opportunities on caste, community, regional and linguistic lines. In 1929, Mr. V.I. Muniswami Pillai, a politician belonging to a backward caste, pointed to the absence of depressed caste representation in the electricity system’s organization and maintenance. He argued 41: My objection in moving this motion is to discuss the necessity for selecting members of the depressed and backward communities for appointment as clerks, etc. I do not know why a certain section of the Indian community is so largely employed under this scheme. Owing to the economic conditions, the depressed classes are very badly off. Apart from that whenever they go to the various offices for employment, the insistence on qualification blocks their way. I urge the government to see that the members of my community are given a chance to serve as clerks, store-keepers, etc. I don’t say that they may be given higher appointments or technical appointments as I know that specialists are required for such posts. They ought to have knowledge of electricity.

As for communal based representation, representations were made by Muslim intellectuals, political leaders and progressivists of other communities. In 1938 S.M. Laljan asked the government to consider Muslim candidates, diploma holders from the Guindy Engineering College, for posts at Assistant Engineer level. The government considered it as inexpedient to lower the qualifications prescribed for direct recruitment to the post of junior engineers with respect to members of the Muslim and other minorities.42 M.V. Sahib Bahadur blocked the further sanction of grants for electricity, to discuss the question of inadequate representation of Muslims in the Electricity Department in 1946. The department offered positions in three lower categories to the Muslim community: A) Junior Engineers in the Madras Electrical Subordinate Services, B) Supervisors

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(Civil) in the Madras Electrical Services and C) Lower Division Clerks and Typists in the Electricity Department. The first category was appointed by the Chief Engineer of the Department. The communal rule was adhered to to satisfy the concerned community. From 1941 till the end of 1946, the department appointed 153 Junior Engineers among which were four Muslims.43 Thus caste, religion and regional issues also influenced the debates on the development of electricity. Finally, this essay shows how the issue of electricity generation galvanized the Madras Presidency into a ‘nation’ in colonial India. This ‘nation’ was subsequently polarized into the ‘haves’ and ‘have nots’ of the southern and northern areas. Therefore, this nation, largely exclusivist, was then split into the present state of Andhra Pradesh on the basis of linguistic claims, discriminatory policies and economic underdevelopment. Currently Andhra Pradesh itself is facing separatist claims from Telengana on the basis of the last two factors. Regional citizenship, or place rootedness, is significant in the making of the citizen.



Notes 1

Government Order (G.O), Number (No.), 432W, PWD, dated 20.4.1926. Ibid. 3 G. O. No. 119 W, PWD, dated 28.6.1926, Pykara-Hydro Electric SchemeNegotiations with Power Securities Corporation, These news items can be seen in this file. Papers like The Hindu, The Madras Mail and The Justice, strongly advocated state ownership during the initial stages of policy formation. 4 G. O. No. 119 W, PWD, Dated 28.6.1926 5 Ibid. 6 Madras Legislative Council Proceedings (MLCP), Vol XXIII, Madras 1925: 469, financing the projects and the question of private and public ownership was debated extensively in the Madras Legislative Council. 7 G.O. No. 459 W, PWD, dated 23.4.1926. Legislative Council Meeting- March 1926- one of the Council Members Mr. J.A. Saldanha raises questions on purchase of Machinery for Pyakara Hydro-electric Power Station. 8 K.V.Karanath, 1947, Our Industrial Problems: An Engineer’s Views, Harsha Printery and Publications, Puttur, South Kenara, p. IV. 9 Ibid: 5-6. 10 Ibid: 13. 11 Karanath, Our Industrial Problems: v-vi. 12 Deepak Kumar, 1997, ‘Gandhi and Technology,’ Gandhi Marg, January-March: 429. 2

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 13

M. Vinaik, 1957, ‘Sarvodaya and Electricity’, Published by J. C. Kumarappa, T. Kalluantti and Tirumangalam, N.M.A. Press, Madras: 5. 14 G. Sundaram, Chief Engineer For Electricity, 1952 , Retirement Speech in 1952, Electricity Department Journal, Vol. VII, No 3, October –December: 120. 15 Press note issued by the Madras Government on 17 October, 1946, in Madras Information, Vol.1 No.3, 1946: 10. 16 G.O., No. 2438W, dated 12.8.1947. Budget Debates of Madras Legislative Assembly, Madras, 1947. 17 G.O., No. 2438W, dated 12.8.1947. Budget Debates of Madras Legislative Assembly, Madras, 1947: 2. 18 G.O., No.106W, PWD, dated 21.1.1926. 19 G.O., No. 2438W, PWD, dated 12.8.1947 20 MLCP, Vol L XXVII No.1-6, 1935. 21 Administration Report of the Madras Presidency for 1938-39: 1. 22 Administration Report of the Madras Presidency for 1938-39: 11. 23 G.O. No. 2438W, PWD, Dated 12.8.1947. 24 Administration Report for 1936-37: 9. 25 Administration Report for 1936-37: 29. 26 Administration Report for 1935-36: 10. 27 Administration Report for 1935-36: 11. 28 G.O., No. 2679, dated 23.12.1937. 29 G.O., No. 2544 W, PWD, dated 2. 11. 1936. 30 G.O., No. 2544 W, PWD, dated 2.11.1936. 31 G.O., No. 2544 W, PWD, dated 2.11.1936. 32 The Hindu, Dated 15th 6.1936, Report on Confidential Report on English Papers Examined in the Secretariat Fort. St. George and on Vernacular Papers Examined by the Translator to the government of Madras for the month of June 1936. 33 Ibid.: 318. 34 G.O., No. 1480W, dated 11.7. 1934. 35 G.O., No, 69W, dated 9.7. 1935. 36 Administration Report for 1934-35: 10. 37 Rs. 1,15,06,627 on Pyakara, Rs. 4,36,721 on Mettur-Erode-Salem Scheme, Rs. 17,48, 255 on Coimbatore-Nilgiris Distribution Scheme, Rs1 27, 231 on Palani Extension Scheme, Rs.1,32,545 on Dindigul Thermal Scheme and Rs.1,46,782 on Virudhanagar Thermal Power stations. These power generation schemes were located in the southern part. Investment in the north was nowhere comparable to the south. In the northern part Rs. 30 lakhs for Bezawada and Rs. 20 lakhs for Vizakapatam was sanctioned. (see G.O, No. 1686 Dated 20.7.1936 for more details) 38 Madras Legislative Assembly Debates, 1939: 528. 39 Ibid: 529. 40 Ibid. 41 Madras Legislative Council Debates, Part-II, Vol. XLVIII, 1929: 870-871. 42 MLA Debates, 1937: 530. 43 G. O., No. 2438W, PWD, dated 22.8.1947.

CHAPTER TEN THE PAST IN THE PRESENT: THE LORD AYAPPA CONTROVERSY AT SABARIMALA, 2006 SANTHY BALACHANDRAN

CNN-IBN June 28, 2006 Thiruvananthapuram (Kerala): Actress Jayamala's claim of touching Lord Ayyappa's idol has kicked off a controversy and with it the debate over discrimination against women in places of worship. BBC News July 3, 2006 Trivandrum: An Indian actress has kicked up a storm after revealing that she had unwittingly touched the idol of a deity at a prominent temple where fertile women are banned from entering, THE HINDU July 31, 2006 New Delhi: A group of women lawyers has filed a petition in the Supreme Court seeking a direction to the Kerala Government to lift the age-old ban on women devotees entering Lord Ayyappa Temple at Sabarimala. In their public interest litigation (PIL) filed through counsel Ravi Prakash Gupta, six women lawyers belonging to the Indian Young Lawyers' Association contended that the custom restricting entry of women aged between 10 and 50 to the temple was violative of their constitutional rights, including the right to equality guaranteed under Article 14 of the Constitution.

The Sabarimala controversy of 2006 has sparked off a widespread debate. While speculation will continue on whether the actor’s claims of entering the sanctum sanctorum and touching the idol are true or not, my task here is not an analysis of the veracity of the claims but rather, a review of the gender issues involved. Such an analysis is impossible without taking into account the specific socio-cultural milieu of the debate. To discover the cause of such a hue and cry and especially its implications, it is necessary to

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do three things. Firstly it is required that we form a basic understanding of the origins and characteristics of the deity Lord Ayyappa and the significance of the Sabarimala pilgrimage. The second task is to look into the history, geography, politics and social institutions of Kerala and how that has had a bearing on the manner in which the events unfolded. The third task is to relate gendered reality at the regional or micro level to the national or macro context. That is, to establish the links between the (patriarchal) values underlying Indian society and its ramifications for the status of women in religious life. We shall attempt to do this step by step.

Lord Ayyappa In a 1954 paper by M N Srinivas, Ayyappa is featured as a predominantly south Indian deity. As Srinivas clarifies, this is not to deny his existence in the pan Indian pantheon of gods but only to stress the distinct form and importance he assumes south of the Vindhyas. As far as a specific Sanskritic origin is concerned, the Bhagavata Gita portrays Lord Ayyappa as a hyper masculine god born of the union of two male gods, Shiva and Mohini- that is, Vishnu in a female form. Some scholars believe that Ayyappa is the hinduised version of the Buddha. This view is substantiated by the fact that the pilgrimage itself contains traces of Buddhist influence. The strict vows of vegetarianism and abstinence from worldly pleasures prior to the pilgrimage are reminiscent of the Buddhist doctrine of ahimsa. The fact that caste distinctions do not apply during the vrita (penance) period also accords well with the Buddhist emphasis on castelessness and cosmopolitanism. There is even a striking resemblance between the figures of Ayyappa and Buddha in posture and form. It is believed that with the growth and spatial spread of the Brahmins by the 8th century A.D there was a concerted effort at establishing Hindu temples on a large scale with a view to popularizing Hinduism. The ingenuity of the immigrants lay in the fact that the absorption of the populace into the folds of Hinduism was not by means of military conquest but by ‘a gradual process of social assimilation and cultural synthesis’ (Sreedhara Menon, 1967). The non Aryan Sastha became Hariharaputra- the son of Vishnu and Siva, a stroke of brilliant diplomacy that made him acceptable not only to the Saivite and Vaishnavite sections of the Hindus but also to the reconverts

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from the Buddhist fold. Although superficial relics of Buddhist practices remain as outlined before, somewhere along the way the Buddhist ideals of equality of the sexes were lost. Lord Ayyappa is known by various names across south India and different aspects of the deity are highlighted within different cultural regions. In the Coorg region he is known as Sartavu and his identity as a hunter of great skill is acknowledged. Jungles are dedicated to him and hunting is avoided on Saturdays and Wednesdays as Ayyappa hunts on these days. The carved or un-carved stones representing Ayyappa are accompanied by clay and wooden images of hunting dogs, bows and arrows. The offerings made to him may be vegetarian or non-vegetarian depending on whether the priests at the shrine are Brahmin or not. Arrack and toddy (local alcohol-ed) are valued offerings in certain parts. In Tamilnadu he is known as Ayyanar. Ayyanar is believed to be the brother of the seven virgins (Mariyamman et al) who preside over epidemics, and has two wives--Puranai and Pudkalai. This is in contrast to his portrayal as a celibate in other parts of south India, and most importantly as the celibate Lord Ayyappa of Sabarimala. Ayyapa’s celibacy is of prime importance to this discussion. To quote Caroline and Filippo Osella (2003): 1 A perennial brahmachariya (celibate student); his great powers derive specifically from his ascetic endeavour, in particular from abstention from sexual activities, a practice also followed by pilgrims before and during the pilgrimage.

This aspect of Ayyappa’s character is the accepted justification for barring women from entering the temple premises. An interesting but revealing digression here would be that in Balmavati village in Coorg he is the deity of women. To quote Srinivas (1954)2 : the high caste women of Balmavati repair to the shrine early in the morning, and bathe in the pool near the shrine. When they emerge from the pool they are completely naked, and then each nude woman makes a separate fire over which she cooks a few cakes of rice- flour yellowed with turmeric powder. Each woman offers her cakes to Ayyappa. While the cakes are being cooked, all the women engage in lewd talk in which they refer freely to the sex act. The women then dance and sing a song describing the deity’s coming to the Coorg. After the dance is over each woman eats a piece of cake offered to the deity. The women then don their saris and march in

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procession to the village. The men meet them where the jungle track joins the main road. The men are given a piece of consecrated cake to eat after which everyone repairs to the village green to witness the men dance.

Just hundred miles down south, Ayyappa’s celibacy needs protection from women! At the risk of being accused of blasphemy, it does make one wonder if Lord Ayyappa, the powerful and popular, is conceptualized as so bereft of moral strength that he requires women to be kept away from his presence to maintain his ascetic purity. Even if the idea did not cross the minds of the creators of this rule, it certainly would occur to the rational observer. The point here is that these so called divine ordinations are but rules created by mortal men. The defining feature here is that while in the rest of south India Ayyappa is mainly a village deity worshipped by lower castes, in Kerala he assumes a status of such magnitude that he is worshipped across the caste hierarchy. While he may be offered animal sacrifices and even arrack and toddy elsewhere as mentioned before, in all of Kerala only vegetarian offerings can be made. The Namboothiris, the upper class Brahmins of Kerala, thought to be the most orthodox Brahmins in India, officiate at his temples including of course Sabarimala. The concepts of purity and pollution thus become the key to this discussion and shall be dealt with at length later.

The Pilgrimage The almost one thousand year old Sabarimala Temple is located in the Pathanamthitta district of Kerala. Myths connecting Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism and Yogic beliefs endorse the temple's broad policy of welcoming (male) members of all faiths. The annual pilgrimage is made during the months of November to January and sees at least a million visitors including a small percentage of pre pubescent and postmenopausal female devotees. It is women between the ages of 10-55 who supposedly provoke the displeasure of the deity. An integral part of the pilgrimage is the 41- day abstinence period. In the words of Rahul Easwar, the grandson of the head priest of the temple, ‘By doing 41 days of penance or vrita we are eliminating desire. You have to stop the mind actions, as Patanjali says in his definition of yoga. Sabarimala is the place for that philosophy to be practiced to reach a mental state beyond thoughts, feelings and provocation’ 1.

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This brings us to the question of the legitimacy of a penance that is incapable of withstanding the slightest test as represented by the presence of a fertile woman. As noted earlier, these are but rules created by mortals, justified by well-established myths pertaining to ritual purity-pollution, the consequences of displeasing the Lord, the arduous nature of the journey and its possible physical toll on women. But what is really at work here? An echo of the age-old concept of women as ‘narak-dwars’, literal gates of hell perhaps, or an overt expression of unconscious identification with the Hindu image of women as malevolent and destructive when uncontrolled? Caroline and Filippo Osella’s suggestions on the importance of the pilgrimage for the construction of the south Indian male identity may also provide us a clue as to why there seems to be a need, an inexplicable urge, to perpetuate these concepts in the name of tradition. How perhaps by default this exclusion aids the construction of the Hindu south Indian female identity is a question of interest but currently outside the scope of this paper.

Kerala To fully understand the origin and nature of the debate we need to outline the following:

Geography Kerala is a state on the tropical Malabar coast of southwestern India. To its east and northeast, Kerala borders Tamil Nadu and Karnataka; to its west and south lie the Indian Ocean islands of Lakshadweep and the Maldives respectively. Kerala envelops Mahé, a coastal exclave of Pondicherry.

History First settled in the 10th century BC by speakers of Proto-South Dravidian, Kerala was influenced by the Mauryan Empire. Later, the Cheran kingdom and feudal Nair-Namboothiri Brahminical city-states became major powers in the region. Early contact with overseas lands culminated in struggles between colonial and native powers. Being to a certain extent geographically distant from the seat of British power at Delhi, Kerala was not as dynamic a scene of organized revolt against the British Raj as other regions more directly influenced by British policies and excesses. The rulers were generally on amiable terms with the British administration--nevertheless,

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several rebellions occurred, including the October 1946 Punnapra-Vayalar revolt. The significant point is that the period of independence struggle was characterized more by a struggle towards reform movements that targeted indigenous oppression rather than foreign subjugation. The rigid caste system that led Swami Vivekananda to famously declare Kerala ‘a lunatic asylum of castes’, the lack of opportunities for formal education and the improvement of the status of women became important issues within the focus of reformists. The Vaikom Satyagraham of 1924 and the Guruvayoor Satyagraha of 1931-32, to name two, protested untouchability and led to the famous temple entry proclamation of 1936 by Sri Chithira Thirunal Bala Rama Varma, the Maharaja of Travancore which opened the doors of Hindu temples to Hindus of all castes. The erstwhile princely states of Malabar and Cochin followed suit, albeit after a decade. Sabarimala which is open not only to the dalits but also to male members of other faiths thus excludes only women from offering worship. This serves to highlight the implicit, socially sanctioned concept of women as the ‘untouchables among untouchables’. The State Reorganization Act of November 1, 1956 elevated Kerala to statehood. A new Legislative Assembly was also created, for which elections were held in 1957. These resulted in the world’s first democratically elected communist-led government headed by E.M.S. Namboodiripad. The social reforms introduced by Namboodiripad's administration and continued by subsequent governments facilitated, among other things, improvements in living standards, education, and life expectancies for both the sexes. The irony here is that one would expect a state governed by the ideologically atheist and socially progressive communists to have raised questions early on as to discriminatory religious practices. Even more surprising is the fact that the current government too initially favoured supporting the temple authorities in punishing the South Indian actress Jayamala before women’s rights groups took affront and succeeded in turning the focus towards the prejudice engendered in the issue. Maybe the answer lies in Kerala’s demographics and social trends which would necessarily have an impact on the socialization of the politicians themselves.

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Demographics and Social Trends Kerala’s population, according to the 2001 census, stands at 3.18 crore (31. 8 million). The majority is Malayali Dravidian but Indo-Aryan, Jewish, and Arab elements may also be found in both culture and ancestry. 1.10% of the populace is comprised of indigenous tribal adivasis. Women comprise 51.42% of the population. Kerala's principal religions are Hinduism (56.1%), Islam (24.7%), and Christianity (19%). Remnants of a once substantial Cochin Jewish population practice Judaism. In comparison with the rest of India, Kerala experiences relatively little sectarianism, a feature both illustrated and reinforced by the fact that the state’s principal festival is Onam- a harvest fest Hindu in origin, but secular in terms of levels of participation and revelry across religious communities. This is not to say that instances of religious discord do not occur. Only that the magnitude and extent remain small. The Namboothiri Brahmins are at the top of Kerala’s caste system. The seclusion of women was strictly enforced in this community. In comparison, women of the Nair caste, next in the hierarchy, enjoyed great levels of independence. Descent was through the female line, children stayed at the maternal home and an unusual practice of allowing women multiple sexual partners or ‘visiting husbands’ was established. Although the oldest brother known as the ‘Karanavar’ was the head of the household and managed the family estate, women enjoyed the right to property and therefore respect prestige and power. The marumakkathayam system, as this is known, is no longer very prominent in Kerala. The twin processes of sanskritisation and westernization have been responsible for the construction of current social reality. While Brahmins began discarding or at least de-intensifying practices related to the seclusion of women, the lower castes began taking up the customs that the Brahmins were discarding. This accords with MN Srinivas’s observation that sankritisation is often a preliminary to westernization3. Post independence, westernization speeded up with an increase in educational opportunities as a result of the government’s pro-social development policies. The Nairs and other sections too began adopting, or in a rather broad sense reverting to, the practice of gender equality. Thus at least as far as Kerala society is concerned there has been a cyclical change in the position of women. While initially the women of castes

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excluding the Brahmins had relatively low social restrictions, later the trend reversed with the westernization of Brahmins and the increased sanskritisation of those lower in the hierarchy. This was then followed by a throw back to largely egalitarian gender norms. Thus high levels of literacy and the vestiges of the matrilineal system have percolated through all strata of Kerala society to create an atmosphere of greater gender equality than in other parts of India. While there is of course a section of the society that justifies the ban in the name of custom, education, political awareness (the fact that the percentage of female political representation stands at 9.2, higher than the national average of 8.8, is significant) and a well-established debating culture supported by both the print and visual media, have ensured a rationalist and progressive nature to the discussion on pursuing a policy of inclusion of women in religion.

Religion and Women: Concepts and Processes at Work Like most clichés, the cliché of an inherent unity in the apparent diversity of Indian society is not without a basis in truth. Although it is acknowledged that every ethnic group develops in a unique way, and is a product of its own particular historical context, it is also true that no society develops in isolation. South Indian society, especially Kerala society, has features that are unique to it but also certain underlying themes that prove that it is part of the superstructure that is Indian society. The following is a brief outline of certain concepts, beliefs and processes that have moulded the status of women in Hindu religious life.

Aryanisation The aryanisation of south India is believed to have begun around 1000 BC and the first Aryan immigrants to Kerala are thought to have come in the 3rd century BC. As noted elsewhere, the process reached a climax in the 8th century BC with a major batch of Brahmins entering the region. The most tangible result of this process was the hinduisation of the south- the incorporation of Dravidian gods into the Hindu pantheon, the adoption of Vedic rituals in temples, and especially, the establishment of the caste system with its emphasis on hierarchy and ritual purity- pollution. While the women of the early Vedic period (2500- 1500 BC) underwent the sacred initiation or upanayana, performed sacrifices, and were not regarded

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as impediments to religious pursuits, by the end of the millennium there was a sharp decline in their religious independence. 3 Only male members of the first three varnas came to be allowed knowledge of the Vedas and only Brahmins could perform Vedic rituals. Sudras, untouchables and women were denied access to the sacred texts. By the time Aryan influences gained strength in Dravidian Kerala, the deterioration in women’s ritual status was complete.

Purity and Pollution The notion of purity and pollution lies at the core of Hinduism. There are two kinds of purity and pollution: one determined by virtue of birth and the other determined by one’s actions and circumstances. Personal purity or pollution determined by one’s varna was unchangeable. According to Sanskrit literature, Brahmans are purer than the Kshatriyas, the Kshatriyas purer than the Vaishyas and so on. The untouchables were organized as a class outside the varna system- the most polluting of the populace. Apart from this kind of ‘ascribed’ purity or pollution, a person could also be polluted by normal biological functions such as eating, excretion, sex, menstruation, childbirth or death, and such pollution was thought to be contagious. Thus ritual and existential concerns of purity and pollution underlie the hierarchy of castes. As regards women, Leela Dube’s (1996) observations are relevant4. Menstruation and child birth are strong sources of pollution among the Hindus of south Asia, where they make women intrinsically less pure than men. There is a pervasive notion that women never attain the level of purity of men of their own castes, essentially because of the self-pollution that they incur through bodily processes. They are therefore regarded as unfit for many roles in the sphere of rituals and worship. Priestly functions and the worship of certain deities are not permitted to them. 4

By contrast, the pre-pubertal phase is viewed and celebrated as one of intrinsic purity and menopause is seen as a point of liberation.

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The Dual Image of Hindu Women The duality in the Hindu conceptualization of the female has been a favourite point of analysis in the anthropology of Hinduism. Simply put, woman is shakti- the source of energy and power. When uncontrolled, this power is dangerous and corresponds to malevolent tendencies in a woman (for e.g. the goddess Kali) but when under the control of men, this power becomes constructive and relates to the benevolent image of women (for e.g. the goddess Lakshmi). This imagery laid the foundation for the practice of seclusion of women.

Power and Sexuality The link between power and sexuality is another key concept in the Hindu milieu. To quote Susan Wadley (1977)5: There can be no doubt that Hindu perceptions of femaleness are powerful and pervasive: women are threatening; their sexuality is destructive to men, whose energy they sap, yet their fertility is needed for bearing sons. One result is a deep-rooted fear of women aligned with recognition of their power. Women are thus banned from the dominant sources of religious power and authority.

As intercourse is considered debilitating, capable of draining the body of energies that are slow to accumulate, conversely, sexual abstinence is advised as a method of concentrating and storing power. This explains the reverence inspired by the bachelor Lord Ayyappa. It is clear from the above discussion on aryanisation, the concept of puritypollution, the controllable duality of femininity and the relationship between power and sexuality, that women have been marginalized in terms of scripturally sanctioned religious involvement. The fact is, while the most devout followers of Hinduism continue to be women, their religious authority is disproportionately limited. To sum up, Lord Ayyappa of Sabarimala is conceptualized as a deity whose vow of celibacy requires that fertile women not be admitted into his presence. The exclusion of women from formal religious participation is a result of certain widespread Aryan norms found throughout Indian society that have

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to do with concepts of women as inherently polluted and dangerous if not controlled6. The delay in the initiation of a debate on sexism in religious policy in a relatively progressive state as Kerala can only be understood in terms of the social trends that prevail through its history. While the atmosphere for such a discussion may have been ripe for a number of years now, a trigger for debate was required and was provided by the actor Jayamala’s controversial claims. The pro-inclusive tilt to the extensive debate in the media as well as the nature of judicial representations made by women’s rights groups in Kerala was possible due to the unique socio-political legacy of the state. The Sabarimala controversy only reveals what we already know- that the position of women in any society and religion has always been secondary. The debate reveals an exciting possibility for change, a possibility that perhaps soon, women who have successfully occupied the once exclusively masculine domains of education, economy and politics will secure their right to sacred spaces as well. Whether this will happen or not depends on how the issue is handled after the controversy dies down. The responsibility of rights groups and the media lies in sustaining and maintaining the focus of the debate. I conclude this essay with the original text of the Temple Entry Proclamation of 1936, a document that seems as relevant today as when it was originally published and hailed by Mahatma Gandhi as ‘a smriti which is the people’s charter of spiritual emancipation’: Profoundly convinced of the truth and validity of our religion, believing that it is based on divine guidance and on all- comprehending toleration, knowing that in its practice it has throughout the centuries, adapted itself to the needs of changing times, solicitous that none of our community can be denied the consolations and solace of the Hindu faith, we have decided and hereby declare, ordain and command that, subject to such rules and conditions as may be laid down and imposed by us for preserving their proper atmosphere and maintaining their rituals and observances, there should henceforth be no restriction placed on any Hindu by birth or religion on entering and worshipping at the temples controlled by us and our government. *

*The italics in the quote and the statement are the author’s.

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Notes 1

Caroline Osella & Filippo Osella, December 2003, ‘Ayyapan Saranam: Masculinity and the Sabarimala Pilgrimage in Kerala’, Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, Volume 9: 2. 2 M N. Srinivas, 1954, ‘A Brief Note on Ayyapa- the South Indian Deity’ from Collected Essays, Oxford India Paperbacks, New Delhi. 2004: 352. 3 M N Srinivas, 1956, A Note on Sanskritization and Westernization in ibid : 212. 4 Leela Dube, 1988, Bodily Processes and Limitations on Women. Women and Kinship-Comparitive Perspectives on Gender in South and South East Asia. Vistaar Publications. New Delhi: 74. 5 Susan Wadley, 1977,’ Women and the Hindu Tradition’ in Doranne Jacobson and Susan Wadley., 1977, Women in India: Two Perspectives. South Asia Books. Also in Rehana Ghadially ed. Women in Indian Society: A Reader, Sage Publications, 1988. 6 ‘It is in the nature of women to seduce men in this world; for that reason the wise are never unguarded in the company of females’ Manusmriti, ii, 213-214; ‘For women are able to lead astray in this world not only a fool, but even a learned man, and to make him a slave of desire and anger’, Manusmriti, ii, 213-214; ‘Woman is a great whirlpool of suspicion, a dwelling place of vices , full of deceit, a hindrance in the way of heaven, the gate of hell’, – Hindi Proverb, ‘For women no sacramental rite is performed with sacred texts, thus the law is settled; women who are destitute of strength and destitute of the knowledge of Vedic texts, are as impure as falsehood itself, that is a fixed rule,’- Manusmriti, ix, 14-18; ‘In the event of entry by dogs, thieves, chandalas, patithas, women in their periods etc, or of pollution by corpses and the like, and also if there should occur default in pooja, expiation is ordained in the manner laid down for Snapam ie, Kalabhishekam,’ – Thantra Sara by Ananda Thirtha. The book Thantra Sara Sangraha written by Sri Madhvacharya, also known as Srimad Ananda Tîrtha, contains exhaustive details of the procedure to be followed in identifying locations for temples, building temples, idols and the detailed procedure to be followed in temple worship. The Acharya was born in 1238 A.D. He disappeared from amidst an audience, after giving a lecture on the Aitareya Upanishad, on the ninth day of the shukla paksha in the month of Magha in 1317. 



CHAPTER ELEVEN LOCALITY, HISTORY, MEMORY: VAILANKANNI AND A NEW GEOGRAPHY OF CITIZENSHIP1 RILA MUKHERJEE

Introduction The cult of Vailankanni is presently embodied in a basilica in Tamil Nadu. Originally a Marian shrine, Vailankanni is significant today because its worship and pilgrimage are not restricted to any particular caste or community and the pilgrims-Hindus, Christians and Muslims-come from all over South and South East Asia, as also the U.K., the U.S., Australia and Canada. For those who cannot come in person, prayers can be offered online; due to the possibilities of the internet virtual pilgrimages are possible at the click of the mouse. Vailankanni will be studied here within two conceptual frameworks. Its emergence as cult is studied here within the framework of encounter (henceforth EH or encounter history) as proposed by Serge Gruzinski (Images at War: Mexico from Columbus to Blade Runner (1492-2019), Duke University Press, Durham, 2001and The Conquest of Mexico, Polity Press, New York, 1993). Vailankanni’s evolution as both cult and shrine is seen in terms of a connected history (henceforth CH) as proposed by Sanjay Subrahmanyam (Penumbral Visions, Oxford University Press, New Delhi, 2001 and, Explorations in Connected History: From The Tagus to the Ganges, and Explorations in Connected History: Mughals and Franks, Oxford University Press, New Delhi, 2005) where Subrahmanyam attempts explicitly to implement a programme of what he terms ‘connected history’, and not comparative history, by ‘reworking the history of South Asia into a larger Eurasian space of conjunctural movements’ 2 Finally a geography of citizenship will be attempted for

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Vailankanni based on the persistent and systematic appropriation of a sacred space for the cult. I argue that the Vailankanni pilgrimage shows a communitas that translates into a new kind of citizenship through the intervention of the Vatican. It has already been argued in the introduction that citizenship is not just restricted to the political domain; new forms of transnational citizenships based on faith, culture and so on have emerged in the second half of the twentieth century. Vailankanni is a Marian shrine in the Indian state of Tamil Nadu, India. The cult of Vailankanni offers a fascinating glimpse of encounters with a range of faith systems and its development shows connected histories that span Europe and Asia. The notion of ‘encounter’ is particularly relevant when we study societal interaction. As I write King’s College, London, is preparing to launch a ten volume series on The World the Portuguese Encountered. The world of Vailankanni was one such that first the Syrian Christians, then the Portuguese and finally the Vatican encountered in peninsular South Asia. The notion of ‘encounter’ assumes a dialogue between two cultures or civilizations, not in terms of insertions into large conjunctural movements emanating from one bloc or another, but in terms of occupying a fluid arena of engagement, negotiation, contestation and counter contestation which ultimately creates completely new social conditions of existence3. The dialogue of the encounter is almost always violent and destructive. The CH is particularly evident in terms of the development of the cult in chronological time, and it is also visible in the communitas displayed in short time bursts, as in the actual pilgrimage. Many indigenous religious cults were sometimes incorporated into larger imperial concerns as Europeans sought to establish their dominion over Latin America, Asia and Africa: Quetzalcoatl in Spanish America, the Portuguese sponsored cults of St. George and St. Alphonsa in Kerala, India, and that of Mami Wata in Africa are other examples that come readily to mind4. As site, Vailankanni is indicative of religious networks and connected histories that straddle India and her neighbours. Christians, Muslims and Hindus from the west, Sri Lanka and Malaysia regularly participate along with Indian and other Southeast Asian pilgrims in the annual trek to Vailankanni to celebrate the World Day of the Sick. Used as we are to notions of ‘cross border migration’, ‘regional cooperation’, ‘foreign policy perspectives’, and ‘strategic considerations’, when we consider our interactions with our neighbours in this the late globalised age , we often

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forget that other examples of cooperation, as in religion and pilgrimage, do exist in South and Southeast Asia. How should we distinguish between encounter and connection? Encounter suggests a limited collision that may not just be restricted to one, while connection implies interactions over time. All faith systems have a connected history, but all may not have an encounter5. Finally, EH and CH have different uses of time, that of EH is, obviously, much shorter.

I The Encounter While the stage(s) of the encounter can be studied in structuralist terms6, it may be more instructive to look at the progression of the encounter itself. Thereby the sequence of the ‘encounters’ implicit in the encounter’s progression, as well as the images they produce, can be documented. This essay attempts the methodology followed by Serge Gruzinski in both Images at War and The Conquest of Mexico, two books that have influenced significantly our regard of colonialism, contemporary society and religion. In Images at War Gruzinski made a striking reinterpretation of the Spanish colonization of Mexico. ‘If colonial America was the melting pot of modernity, it was because it was also a fabulous laboratory of images….Just as much as speech and writing, the image can be a vehicle for all sorts of power and resistance’, he wrote in the introduction. Concentrating on the political meaning of the baroque image and its function within a multicultural society, Gruzinski compared its ubiquity in Mexico to the modern fascination with images and their meaning. Although the baroque image played a decisive role in many arenas, especially in that of conquest and New World colonization, its powerful resonance in the sphere of religion was a focal point of Gruzinski's study. In his analysis of how images conveyed meaning across linguistic barriers, Gruzinski uncovered recurring themes of false images and less-thanperfect replicas that contributed to the uprooting of peoples and cultural memories. In his study of the Spanish-Native American encounter, Gruzinski showed the violence of iconoclastic destruction and noted how various ethnic groups-Indians, blacks, Europeans-left their distinct marks on images of colonialism and religion, by co opting these into newer expressions of identity or instruments of rebellion.

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As Gruzinski's story unfolded, he talked of Aztec idolatory, of cults such as that of the Virgin of Guadeloupe, and of conquistadors, Franciscans, and missionaries and their interactions with indigenous cultures. He spoke of neoclassical attempts to repress this baroque exuberance. In the final chapter of Images at War he discussed the political and religious implications of contemporary imagery-such as those in Mexican soap operas-and speculated about the future of the image in Latin America. If Images at War deals with the dynamics of cross cultural encounter, The Conquest of Mexico deals specifically with how various local religious models were fitted in, or distorted, within the Catholic pantheon of one God and many saints. In The Conquest of Mexico, Serge Gruzinski analyzed various native documents known as the relaciónes geográphicas produced after the conquest of America. He noted a singular process where the natives felt that their interests were best served by altering native tradition for the benefit of the Spanish rulers after colonization. One arena where this was most evident was in that of religion. It was in fact found convenient to consign to an already distant past, at least over fifty years ago, all that could have to do with idolatry, with 'rituals and ceremonies that they practiced and did of old in the time of the infidelity' 7, which made it possible at the same time for the Spanish conquerors to dismiss the somewhat thorny question of the retention of paganism. This was crucial as the Spanish theological mission, as well as the missionary enterprise, was very marked in the conquest of the New World. Debates about the rights or otherwise of natives, the question of natural law, of slavery, of the Christian soul, occupied theological and legal minds in sixteenth century Spain. For the Spaniards, one of the most attractive traits of the god Quetzalcoatl was his putative opposition to this proliferation of deities, and his insistence upon one god. The evidence for this ‘doctrine’ preached by Quetzalcoatl found support among the native informants, men who knew their culture, but were nevertheless schooled by the Spanish and wellversed in the Catholic religion. These natives wrote of an earlier Toltec society, headed by Quetzalcoatl, which believed in only one god. But the story of a monotheistic Quetzalcoatl was bogus at best, as Gruzinski showed. What the fabrication of the story of Quetzalcoatl signified is that when Judeo-Christian monotheism came into sharp conflict with the extensive pantheon of the Nahua it was deemed suitable to create a monotheistic

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past. Texts extolling Quetzalcoatl's belief in one god fell into this category. This element in the Quetzalcoatl tales shows the evidence of a distortion by the selection of pre-Hispanic lore, in this case the selection being done by the ‘natives’ themselves. In The Conquest of Mexico Gruzinski demonstrated how the spotless present of Christianization followed upon a long past of paganism and idol worship. I hope to demonstrate the same in the case of Vailankanni. It is this adaptation of a ‘native’ lore into a larger hegemonic belief system that resonates in my essay on Vailankanni. We have no foundational texts for Vailankanni, it is not mentioned in any history book, or contemporary documents (such as British census data for Tanjore district under whose diocese Vailankanni is situated) and it is disregarded in The Catholic Encyclopedia, Volume VII, (Copyright © 1910 by Robert Appleton Company, Online Edition Copyright ©2003 by Kevin Knight). It was supposedly mentioned by one Fr. Paulo de Trinidad, an Order of Friar Minor priest. In his chronicle in the year 1630, he wrote: ‘... And two leagues (about six miles) from Nagapattinam in the direction of Mannar (i.e. towards South), we have another Christian settlement, of which one of our Religious has charge and the Church is under the Patronage of our Lady of Health...’ (Paulo de Trinidad, 111, 68).

The historical context is that of Portuguese expansion of empire in South Asia, but here too the texts are silent about the incorporation of Vailankanni into the Catholic pantheon. But our uncovering of the Vailankanni story also shows another historical context-the pre Portuguese religious and social past in rural Tamil Nadu, both folk and Hindu. Therefore additional features such as visual anthropology and mirabilia literature have been used in this essay to flesh out the story of the Vailankanni cult. The assumption behind the notion of encounter as used here is that peninsular India was not a static society and that Portuguese ideological expansion in peninsular India was marked by a high degree of mobility and contestation. In other words we do not just describe here an atrophied ‘Asian stage’ on which the Portuguese erupted as actors. The Portuguese did not act upon a tabula rasa. Our story of the Vailankanni cult will illustrate this. But in telling the story of the encounter of Vailankanni with a wider history we will find that not one encounter, but several encounters took place, each with its own aesthetics. Therefore EH too, can encapsulate within it various EHs in a single temporal framework.

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II Vailankanni Today India is a country that abounds in pilgrimage sites. Perhaps no other country in the world houses so many shrines, temples, dargahs, gurdwaras, synagogues and mosques. But Vailankanni is different. It is different because it caters not to any one faith alone. It stands out from other pilgrimage sites because there is an international dimension to it. Today, the pilgrimage to Vailankanni, dubbed the ‘Lourdes of the East’, is testimony to a faith that transcends borders8. The annual pilgrimage of August 29 is celebrated by a long trek up to the shrine which stands on a lonely beach overlooking the Bay of Bengal. And Vailankanni attracts not just devotees from South and Southeast Asia, the Vailankanni faith spans millions worldwide. This pilgrimage is truly breathtaking in its scope, media hype and demographic dimensions. Some 15 to 20 million people from all over the world visit Vailankanni during the eleven days of the Feast of Our Lady of Good Health that is celebrated by hoisting the flag at the shrine every year on August 29. And interestingly, the Vailankanni pilgrimage continued even at the height of LTTE activities in Sri Lanka and southern India in the 1990s when pilgrims from Sri Lanka continued to visit the basilica. Vailankanni was hard hit by the tsunami of December 2004. The church wall was swept away by giant waves, and at least three hundred dead were identified on the second day once rescue operations began. All traffic to Vailankanni stopped. But in July 2005 it was reported that pilgrims were coming back to the site once again, shops and shelters had been rebuilt, and fisher folk and trades people had been rehabilitated. By August 2005, when the annual feast started, it was business as usual in Vailankanni.

III Locating Vailankanni on the Map Vailankanni is marked on local tirtha (pilgrimage) maps, and Tamil Nadu Tourism also mentions it now on its suggested itineraries, but it is difficult to locate on any Government of India map. It is situated some 25 km. to the south of Karaikal, and around 10 km. south of Nagapattinam. Historically this area was a site for Syrian Christian religious activity which was soon superseded by Portuguese commercial and religious activities in the sixteenth century. In the seventeenth century the area may well have been a Dutch commercial hinterland. The area then became a site of French territorial activity in the eighteenth century.

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In the seventeenth century it was most likely a contested area because both the Portuguese and the Dutch sought to make it their commercial hinterland feeding into the port of Nagapattinam. In terms of faith this area was subject to violent adjustments between the Portuguese Catholicism and Syrian Christianity. We do not know if Protestantism made any inroads into the region. At present, a huge white church in the Portuguese baroque style, the largest part of which was built in 1975, stands on a beach known as the Vailankanni beach. Back to back with the church, which faces west, is the shrine which contains the images of the Mother and Child and looks out towards the east, to the sea. The beach is a mix of prawn farms and cashew groves. A more incongruous setting for a major pilgrimage site can hardly be imagined. We shall examine the significance of the shrine’s maritime orientation further on. Vailankanni’s maritime origins are evident by the large shipping masts that grace the compound. Because there are no foundational dates, because only centuries such as the sixteenth, seventeenth and twentieth are mentioned in its foundation myth, its religious literature emphasizes a timelessness ; this timelessness is reinforced by its singular site. A bazaar surrounds the church, and the bazaar heads down to the sea. There is no real village at Vailankanni. There is a cluster of huts-Hindus, Muslims and Christians alike inhabit this space as in so many other villages in peninsular India. So there is a peculiarly makeshift character to the place. But within this makeshift cluster there is a certain notion of order at Vailankanni. There are some 600 plus homes of fishermen divided among the three communities. The Muslims inhabit the newer section, the Christians are scattered in clusters to the south-that is facing the sea-and the Hindus are clustered tightly around the Mariyammam temple in the centre, a goddess we shall discuss in due course. The fact that the Christian habitations face the sea is also significant. The numbers are somewhat depleted after the tsunami as many of the fishermens’ colonies have been relocated. There are roughly 10 000 residents at Vailankanni. Traditional occupations have changed at Vailankanni. Originally, a place of fishing folk, the Muslims now are more prosperous as traders and seldom go fishing, and the Christians occupy themselves with looking after the vast crowds that come to the shrine. Only the Hindus still go out

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fishing. North of both the Hindu and Muslim sections, on the northern outskirts of the ‘village’, stands the shrine dedicated to Vailankanni. So apart from the religious aspect, the cult of Vailankanni also has a multicultural dimension. To understand what makes Vailankanni stand out from other shrines we have to see the interplay of local cults with larger, more hegemonic, belief systems. We have to study the nature of its insertion into a wider Catholic territory, and then a maritime space, as was attempted by the Portuguese in the seventeenth century, whereby a new religious space was created stretching from the China Seas to the Bay of Bengal. And finally we have to study the intersection of faith systems and regional histories in creating a shrine of worldwide importance that houses a faith that transcends borders today. The story of Vailankanni reiterates the power of faith and the inconsequentiality of borders, not just today, but in history as well. More important, it shows how memory (time), history (narrative) combine to produce a site (locality) that constantly extends in space. The story of Vailankanni can also be retold in terms of social network analysis (SNA) whereby the multiple actors and agents of the story display linkages with one another, mediated through time.

IV Foundation Myths of the Cult IV. 1 Indigenous Origins of the Vailankanni Cult The story of the Vailankanni cult offers us a glimpse of myriad encounters between local lores and Catholicism. And in this time line of encounters, we find not one encounter, but several, as Portuguese colonialism sought to displace the original territorial and sacral associations of Vailankanni by co opting them into the larger canvas of sixteenth century European Catholicism. How did the cult of Vailankanni evolve? Its sacred lore tells us that it appeared in the sixteenth century out of a mix of the Krsna cult as was practiced in Tamil Nadu and the cult of Mary Star of the Sea, a saviour cult that is fervently believed in by Catholic sailors even today. But closer inspection suggests that Vailankanni may also have been at inception a local deity associated with healing and caring for the sick.

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The Catholic missionary enterprise had several encounters with local gods as it sought to expand the Catholic realm in Asia. The Portuguese missionary zeal was particularly effective in incorporating local village deities in peninsular India. In sixteenth century Goa for example, village deities associated with cures, bountiful harvests and miracles, had to adjust to the violence of Portuguese rule. This adjustment came about by way of their integration into the Christian pantheon. The Shantadurga of Goa, in her folk form of Santeri Mata, was christianised into Our Lady of Miracles. Other forms of Shantadurga in Catholic Goa today are Our Lady of Good Health and Our Lady of Cures. We see therefore that female deities, more specifically mother goddess or shakti figures particularly associated with curative powers, were co opted into Catholicism in Portuguese territory. We shall study this aspect in greater detail in following sections.

IV. 2 Thomist Origins of the Vailankanni Cult But Vailankanni, with its association with the Krsna legend, may also have been an earlier Thomist Christian practice. From very early times there existed on the Malabar and Coromandel coasts a considerable community of native Christians claiming to have received the faith from the Apostle St. Thomas, whose martyrdom was held to have taken place near Mylapore, three miles south of Madras. St. Thomas’ tomb was in the hands of Nestorians, and the community was ruled by bishops from Persia or Babylonia who were also Nestorians for several centuries. These Christians are known as Syrian (not by race but by liturgy) Christians. When the Portuguese came into India, they set themselves to the task of removing this Nestorian taint and bringing the community into union with the Catholic Church. In 1523 the Portuguese started building the first Christian church at Mylapore. In 1547, seeking the vestiges of a Christian past, the Portuguese found a stone cross which they placed on the high altar of the church of St.Thomas. The St. Thomas cross is a symbolic representation of the Christian faith, and the Portuguese now took it upon themselves to become the guardians of Christianity in India9. This was finally accomplished by the Synod of Udayamperur in 1599. The Portuguese also burnt most of the ancient written records of the Syrian Christians in peninsular India. We see therefore that the cult appears in the very century when this ‘adjustment’ took place. In its beliefs Syrian Christianity showed an amalgam of Hindu and Christian beliefs-for example, Mary was

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considered a sister of Kali, Jesus was venerated along with Krsna10. There were further adjustments with the Portuguese. In 1653, in consequence of domestic quarrels, a revolt took place, followed by a conciliation of the great majority. The Syrian Catholics were governed by the three vicars Apostolic at Ernakulam, Trichur, and Changanacherry respectively. The conflict of jurisdiction between the vicars Apostolic and the Portuguese padroado commenced in the eighteenth century, reached its climax in 1838, and was finally settled in 1886. Therefore, if we accept the Thomist associations of Vailankanni, we find that there were a series of ‘encounters’ or adjustments between Thomism and Portuguese Catholicism at the time when the cult first appeared as a Marian shrine. In any case, the Vailankanni cult displays many levels of integration, or accommodation-the local, the regional, the maritime and the much larger spaces of empire and Catholicim.

IV. 3 Originary Myths of Vailankanni from the Outside: The Hindu and Catholic Elements Meet The story of the cult runs thus: in the sixteenth century a herdsman in Nagapattinam was reportedly asked for milk by a ‘divine’ lady with a child in her arms and milk then flowed out of the milk man’s milk bucket. Despite the child drinking much of the milk, the cowherd’s bucket remained full. In this foundation myth the cowherd was a Hindu; and his master, who recognized the significance of the visitation, too was a Hindu. The place of this visitation came to be known as Our Lady’s Tank, or Ampa Kulam, a throwback to the idea of the dudhsagar or the sea of milk in puranic texts. Note that the Krsna motif is stressed as origin in this story, and that the ‘divine’ lady is not yet named as the Virgin. This story appears to be set in a time before the arrival of Portuguese missionaries. It is by this clever chronological stratagem that the cult and shrine are inserted into the Hindu sacred landscape. The story of Vailankanni continued to develop, but this time with the Catholic dimension. Later, in the same century, there was yet another visitation. A lame boy, another shepherd, was asked for a cup of buttermilk by another ‘divine’ lady. On drinking the milk, the lady asked the lame boy to run (!) to the rich Catholics at Nagapattinam and pass on her command that they build a chapel in her name on the spot of her apparition. The lame boy was cured. He regained the use of his useless leg, ran into the city and informed the Portuguese there. The Portuguese built a

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chapel at Nadu Thittu, the place of the present shrine, to celebrate both the visitation and the miracle. In this version, the Christian element is welded together with the original Hindu motif. Missionary enterprise had obviously started in the region. And the association with healing appears first in this version. But the Lady is still not identified as the Virgin. What were the spatial dimensions of these two stories? We have to note that in the sixteenth century Portuguese expansion in the Bay was at its height. Nagapattinam had a thriving colony of Portuguese merchants and clerics at that time; it was a prominent centre in the Bay trade. A LusoIndian community had grown up centred around Nagapattinam. The ‘rich catholics’ of the foundation myth were the Portuguese merchants and priests settled at Nagapattinam. But the stories of the visitation occur in a predominantly pastoral setting; the site of the appearance of the Virgin occurs some 6 km. away from Nagapattinam in a localised, rural, setting. This could be either Hindu, or an area subject to Thomist influence. In either case this, for Portuguese Catholicism, is the original, uncontaminated space, a place of Pan like innocence, from where a new cult would take shape. The pristine space, therefore, does not remain so for long. In the seventeenth century the chapel at Nadu Thittu was transformed. It came to be known as ‘Our Lady of Good Health’, a local Marian shrine, patronized by the Portuguese of the Coromandel. The place of original innocence was therefore now inscribed by a definite religious order. The Vailankanni cult, however, was not content to rest with these two stories of its origin. An international dimension was needed. This was provided by the story of a shipwrecked Portuguese vessel in the seventeenth century. A Portuguese galley was supposedly sailing from Macao to Colombo when it was caught in a fearsome storm. As the skies grew black and the waves tossed ever higher, the sailors prayed to Mary Star of the Sea-the traditional saviour of sailors in distress at sea-to save them. All night they prayed. They vowed to build a church in her name wherever they fetched up. And all night the storm raged. But on the morning of September 8 the storm passed as suddenly as it had appeared. The Portuguese found themselves on the beach of Vailankanni.

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True to their promise they transformed the original thatched chapel (Nadu Thittu) built by the Catholics in the last century into a stone chapel. On their next visit from the East the Portuguese decorated the altar with porcelain plates illustrating themes from the Bible. The passage from shrine to permanent church building was completed in this version. The porcelain tiles placed at the altar were blue and could have come originally from China, but the biblical themes on them point to an Iberian provenance. The Hindu, Syrian and Catholic dimensions were thus inserted into a larger story of commercial and imperial expansion. Vailankanni is thus legitimized over a wide geographical area stretching from east to west, an area far larger than either Hinduism or Syrian Christianity could imagine.

V The Emergence and Growth of a Sacred Territory V. 1 On Land The seventeenth century is known as the time when the Portuguese were in retreat in Asia. They lost Malacca to the Dutch in 1641, they were similarly ousted from Hormuz by an Anglo-Dutch initiative in 1644. The loss of these two strategic places threatened Portuguese hegemony in the Indian Ocean. In 1650, the fall of Muscat to the Yarubis effectively ended Portuguese domination of the western Indian Ocean. Portuguese settlements in western India were attacked: Bombay in 1661-2, Diu in 1668 and 1676, and Bassein in 1674. In the east a similar situation prevailed: the massacre of the Portuguese by the Arakanese at Dianga in 1607 soon after they had thrown out the Portuguese from Chattagram, then the execution of de Brito, the ‘independent’ Portuguese ruler of Syriam by the Mons-Burmese in 1613, followed by the defeat of the Portuguese by the Kandy forces in Ceylon in August 1630, followed finally by their ouster from Hugli in 1632. In 1641 Portuguese Malacca, the major entrepot of Asian trade in the eastern Indian Ocean, was lost. In 1656 Colombo was lost to the Dutch, followed by Nagapattinam, Jaffna and Tuticorin in 1658. The geo politics of the Indian Ocean was considerably altered. Much of what was ‘Portuguese India’ had become Dutch possessions by the middle of the seventeenth century.

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It is significant that the Vailankanni story continued to develop the Portuguese angle in this very century of defeat. Nagapattinam, the site of the original Vailankanni, was lost to the Dutch in 1658 and became a Dutch colonial town. But the Dutch, being Protestants, were not interested in promoting the cult. So how do we explain the spread of the cult at this time? It might well be that Vailankanni was promoted by Portuguese who had broken away from the restrictions on trade and settlement imposed by the Estado da India at Goa. Also, the Portuguese withdrawal from peninsular South Asia was not complete in the seventeenth century. While the official Portuguese empire receded, private Portuguese merchants stayed on in both peninsular India and Sri Lanka. Moreover it was in this century, as Sanjay Subrahmanyam reminds us, that the Portuguese transformed themselves from a maritime power to a territorial power11. It is very likely that more and more ‘adjustments’ took place between Catholicism and Protestantism, between Catholicism and Nestorian Christianity and between Catholicism and Hinduism during this period. Throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries the Vailankanni cult spread to other parts of the sub continent where the Portuguese settled, especially in Goa and Diu. The Feast of the Nativity of Our Lady continued to be celebrated on September 8 in all areas under Portuguese control. But the Vailankanni cult did not find place within the realm of the official Catholic orders that enjoyed sanction in Old Goa12.

V. 2 At Sea But we saw that the third version of the Vailankanni story adds an international dimension to the cult. This international dimension centres on the eastern Indian Ocean. We are told that a Portuguese ship was sailing from Macao to Colombo and fetched up on Vailankanni beach instead. Let us now look at this maritime space. Like their territorial possessions in the Indian Ocean, the maritime space of the Portuguese too was shrinking in the seventeenth century. As we know, the Portuguese operated from Goa which was the headquarters of the Portuguese maritime enterprise in Asia (Estado da India). Routes, royal monopolies and concession voyages were given out from Lisbon and Goa for all ports in Asia. Therefore each port had certain other ports it traded with. So which port had the Macao-Colombo run? In

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the period between 1620 and 1640, when we have Portuguese shipping lists, Macao traded with only Manila and Nagasaki13. That is, Macao was given the right to trade east and not west, where Colombo is situated. We do not know exactly which ports Nagapattinam traded with but we know that the port of Porto Novo in the Coromandel, where the Portuguese moved after Nagapattinam was taken by the Dutch in 1658, had the right to trade with Pegu, Acheh, Malacca, Goa and Manila14. The easternmost point from Porto Novo was therefore Malacca in the Malay Straits and not beyond. It is likely that Nagapattinam traded in the same maritime space. Therefore there was no Macao-Colombo run or a Nagapattinam-ColomboMacao run. Only Goa had the right to trade all the way with Macao/Nagasaki15. But after 1650 when this maritime space was in retreat, the ‘Black Portuguese’ of Macao and Timor enjoyed autonomy from Goa and traded with Banten, Dutch Batavia, Siam, Ceylon and Bengal16. Therefore the ship that fetched up on Vailankanni’s shores would have been from Goa if the event took place before 1658; and if the event took place after that time it could very likely have been a private Portuguese vessel owned at Macao. Either way, the founding of the Vailankanni church at this time points to the desire of the Portuguese to inscribe a wider maritime space: one running from the China Seas to the Bay of Bengal with coastal Tamil Nadu as the centre. Portuguese cartographic strategies of this time testify to this 17. The question now is which Portuguese sailors established the Vailankanni church-the ‘official’ Portuguese from Goa or the ‘unofficial’ ones from Macao? We do not know for certain but we can hazard a few guesses.

VI Alternative Modes of Political Expansion and Alternate Encounters In point of fact, both the foundation myth of the Vailankanni cult and its subsequent development, points to the desire of the Coromandel Portuguese to maintain certain autonomy from Goa. The ‘rich Catholics’ of Nagapattinam were not the average Portuguese Christians. Nagapattinam was also peopled by New Christians, a group that had been until recently Jews. Converted in the late 1490s to Christianity, the New Christian Portuguese commercial network was particularly strong between 1580 and 1630. Their major trading centres were at Malacca, Macao, Nagasaki, Manila, Goa and Cochin. But they also penetrated inland into peninsular India and went as far away as Bijapur and Agra18. The New

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Christian network connected previously neglected or marginal routes. This network is sometimes difficult to perceive today because of the paucity of documents but we know that after the Inquisition became active in Goa from the 1580s many New Christians moved out of Goa to Macao or moved out of the Estado da India altogether. Many settled in Nagapattinam. The Portuguese community in sixteenth and seventeenth century Nagapattinam was a motley one; the casados who dominated the town councils of Nagapattinam, Hugli or Macao, gave their towns a very different flavour from the ‘offical’ fidalgo dominated councils of Goa, Hormuz and Malacca19. Therefore the organization of justice, government and trading privileges were similar between Nagapattinam and Macao and quite dissimilar from, say, Goa or Malacca. It is very likely that the two New Christian centres maintained close contact throughout the seventeenth century. Which brand of Catholicism did the New Christians espouse? They followed a mélange of Judaic mysticism and messianic millenarianism; and the latter fitted in with the spirit of the early Portuguese overseas empire. But a century after the New Christians converted to catholicism, the crowns of Spain and Portugal were united in 1580. This unification did not mean a shared Catholic heritage in their overseas possessions. In Latin America, for example, replicas of original Spanish sanctuaries were established in Spanish possessions as Spain sought to convert more and more of the native population to Christianity (Gruzinski: 1993, 2001 ). This strategy is known as establishing satellite pilgrimages. It might be useful to note here Deffontaine’s categorization of satellite pilgrimages. A classic example is the replication of multiple Notre Dames de Guadeloupe in the former Iberian colonies of Central and South America, based on the original Castilian sanctuary20. Similar examples abound in other cultures and other examples would be the mini Meccas of Hochhow in China or Touba in Senegal21. These filial or satellite pilgrimage centres are important in drawing people of diverse faiths and languages together by way of the shared repertoire of non verbal symbol-vehicles that they generate. Their visual, iconographic grammar and vocabulary generate a rich variety of iconographic forms, all of which taken together, constitute a common language for millions of people otherwise divided. In other words, a satellite pilgrimage site works

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both horizontally (by drawing devotees from an ever greater area) and vertically (by integrating the satellite pilgrimage sites with the metropolitan pilgrimage site). But no such model of satellite pilgrimages gained favour in Portuguese Asia. Vailankanni did not become a replica of Our Lady of Guadeloupe. In Southasia the Iberian tradition has to be seen as predominantly Portuguese and not Spanish. So Vailankanni became instead a Marian shrine, a cult that is devoted to curing people of afflictions, physical or otherwise. But Vailankanni was not destined to remain a localized Marian (Catholic) shrine for ever. As the Portuguese prepared to leave Southasia, Pope John XXIII raised it to the status of a basilica on November 3 1962. This gave Vailankanni a different status, an official sanction, even as the ‘Portuguese Empire’ in India disintegrated.

VII Memory and Time in the Religious Calendar As Vailankanni became a basilica of international renown a definitive date was needed for the celebrations. Special dates need to be inserted into the sacred calendar to reinforce the idea of a temporal network: as for Catholics at Lourdes or at Fatima or St. Martin of Tours. In those places this centres around the appearance of the Virgin 22. There are no such dates on the foundation myth of Vailankanni; we do not know when exactly the ‘divine lady’ appeared at Vailankanni in the sixteenth century. This fuzziness is understandable because the Portuguese took pains to cleanse Vailankanni of her pagan origins. (Remember that the story of the visitations takes place in a markedly Indic-Thomist Christian [Krsna cult] context. Our reading suggests that this was also the original context within which Thomist Christianity encountered the local cult). We have only the dates of September 8 and November 3, the two median dates in the development of the cult. But these two dates were not accepted by the Vatican. Instead, August 29 was chosen as the median date, on which date, the Pope declared, the Feast of Our Lady of Good Health would be celebrated by hoisting the flag before the eleven days of the feast commenced. In other words the feast would end on September 8, the date when the Portuguese sailors washed up on Vailankanni’s shores. Thereby the Vailankanni cult was re-energized once again, and reenacted as tableau within a temporal frame stretching from August 29 to September 8. And in the papal jubilee year of 2000 Vailankanni was

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declared the Lourdes of the East, third in importance to the original Lourdes and Fatima-the other two Marian shrines in Europe. Thereby a sacred and temporal network connected Vailankanni to the Christian sacred landscape.

VIII The Sacred Space of Vailankanni One of the chief differences between cults and religions is their conception of space and thereby also their spatial extent. All hegemonic religions seek to create a perpetually expanding space to establish a continuously increasing spiritual territory. This entails a constant negotiation with space-in terms of nature that is moulded into a sacred landscape-and with memory which constitutes the narration of that landscape23. Victor Turner noted that usually pilgrimage sites are established by the founding father of a historical religion on the authority of documents and traditional evidence. A site could be founded on older pilgrimage sites but it would display the orthodoxy of the traditional faith, such as Varanasi, Kailash, Rome or Jerusalem 24. This is evidently not the case for Vailankanni. There is no documentary authority for its foundation, nor is there any doctrinal orthodoxy associated with the Vailankanni cult. Vailankanni rose out of local beliefs. On his pilgrimage to Vailankanni, Paul Younger noted that the pilgrims were generally poor and often in ill health25. There was also a muted air of hysteria among the pilgrims; it was a procession of the sick and the afflicted. Vailankanni is not merely a healer; she is also an exorcist and many of the pilgrims are people ‘possessed’ by demons. We thus see that the Vailankanni cult is essentially different, both in its origin and in its later development. The foundation myth-the originary story-centres around two elements: the local cowherd with his pot of milk and the storm tossed sailors. There is very little association with healing in the foundation myth. So how can we characterize the Vailankanni cult and the resulting pilgrimage?

IX Vailankanni: Its Creation as an International Pilgrimage Destination The fact that with time the Vailankanni cult became associated with healing was intentional; this is evident from the sacred literature sold at Vailankanni26. Visions, miracles, and magical cures are associated with

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Marian shrines. The element of faith is therefore very marked in Marian shrines. Marian shrines multiplied in the late Middle Ages across Europe and the Middle East, when the cult of the supernatural-christianised as the miracle-was controlled by the papacy. Miracula and Mirabilia were intimately linked with virtues and vitae. The cult of the supernatural, and the notion of the miracle, was utilized systematically in the politics of Christianization27. This idea of the spectacular miracle was used by the Portuguese for conversion, for missions and for territorial conquest in South Asia from the sixteenth century. It has been pointed out that sixteenth century Portuguese imperial expansion into Asia was deeply imbued with notions of messianism and millenarianism. The first Portuguese King, Dom Joao I used explicitly millenarian symbolism28. As did the New Christians at Lisbon, who used a combination of Judaic mysticism and Catholic messianism. And, although the Portuguese left some time back, this legacy of miracle and faith continues. Satellite pilgrimage centres of the original Vailankanni abound in Goa and Diu. These shrines, now elevated to the status of village churches, usually stand at the cross roads of prosperous villages and are focal points for gathering the local inhabitants (field visits 2002, 2003, 2006). But Vailankanni is not just a local cult; and neither is its pilgrimage. Since 2000 the World Day of the Sick is celebrated at Vailankanni. Millions trek here to obtain salvation, or cures. It is an international pilgrimage destination, similar to Santiago de Compostella, and ranks third to Lourdes and Fatima in importance and piety. There are over 9000 websites devoted to Vailankanni on the net; they are powered by devotees in Southasia (particularly India and Sri Lanka), Europe (especially France where many Pondicherians emigrated after Pondy became a part of the Union of India), Canada, Australia and New Zealand. These numerous websites give details of the shrine, the pilgrimage, the miracles associated with Vailankanni, and the cures effected. Some are maintained by devotees who talk about their individual experiences at Vailankanni. Many of them operate as travel agencies and give details and itineraries as well as offering chauffeur driven cars and hotel listings. And Vailankanni is no longer a predominantly Catholic pilgrimage; Hindus and Muslims participate in the annual pilgrimage with equal fervour. Pilgrims from Sri Lanka, Malaysia and Indonesia come to

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Vailankanni. As is done in Jerusalem by Christians, Muslims and Jews, or in the old Sakkar on the Indus which had two gates: one for Hindus and the other for Muslims29, all are welcome at Vailankanni.

X The Identity of Vailankanni We have so far viewed these ‘encounters’ from the top, so to speak. We have noted the possible indigenous origins of the cult, its Thomist associations, its accommodation within Catholicism, and its integration into a maritime and territorial empire (CH). But who actually was Vailankanni? We noted at the beginning of the essay that the village of Vailankanni houses a temple to the goddess Mariyammam. In rural Tamil Nadu Mariyammam was the goddess who cured small pox-a dreaded killer in those days. She was also seen as a vengeful goddess; the lack of rain in the dry months from January to June and the incidence of cases of small pox at that time were regarded by the villagers as a sign of wrath on the part of Mariyammam. In time she came to be regarded as the goddess whose anger prevented a bountiful harvest. Mariyammam was a negative goddess; she was feared because of what she could do, not loved because of what she did. Mariyammam represented the Tamil world view in terms of a series of structured polarities-that of the goddess of the village and that of the male gods of the outer world. Younger noted that the underlying pattern of worship in the Vailankanni pilgrimage was the same as that found in the worship of Mariyammam-the preparatory vows, the shaving of the hair, the presentation of offerings, the frenetic worship and so on30. But what explains the transition from the initially tribal and then Hinduized Mariyammam to the Christian Vailankanni? It may well be, that with the world of the Tamil villager expanding in the twentieth century, Mariyammam was no longer deemed adequate for the problems that the villager faced. In her stead, Vailankanni promised a much more limitless authority based on her seaward orientation, to the rural mind. The rural Tamil was bound by sea on three sides, yet in traditional Tamil cosmography the sea was something to be feared. In traditional Tamil symbolism the universe was divided among five types of terrain: mountains, deserts, forests or pastureland, river valleys and the sea. The sea came last because it was feared. Vailankanni, with her wide authority over the seas-derived from her association with Mary Star of the Sea-

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helped the Tamil villager overcome this fear of the unknown. And as a Marian shrine she offered him relief from the manifold ailments that plagued his world. In other words, Vailankanni united the structural polarities of inside-outside; she breached the traditional divide between the home and the outer world. And in doing this she morphed the distinction between the female goddess of the interior and the male god of the outer world.

XI The Geography of Citizenship Vailankanni is thus a unique cult in terms of its many structures. Its pilgrimage throws up these singularities. Pilgrimages can also play a political role, because most religions have a political element built into them. They represent often a factor of unification, a modality whereby people of different faiths can bond together. This has occurred throughout history. In ancient Greece the Delphic oracle became one of the principal elements in Greek unification, similarly the island of Delos, with its temple of Apollo, became a site for the unification of the Ionian peoples. The Kievan pilgrimage was a powerful factor in the unification of the Slavic peoples. The Vailankanni pilgrimage, similarly, is a factor for unification among the poor of Asia. Communitas, which we referred to at the beginning, is an essential part of pilgrimage. Loosely translated, it means bonding, or unity. Communitas can be spontaneous and existential, it may be normative (one that wishes to capture and preserve the original spontaneous community), or it may be ideological whereby the spontaneous and normative community tries to generate a blueprint for the reform of society. Communitas has thus no sense of borders, only a sense of a shared territory. Shrines mark critical points (nodes) in this shared territory, the sacred eco system, which is after all, created by humans. The sacred territory becomes a network. This shared territory came into being, we saw, through a series of encounters that took place when the early modern world was being configured. The pilgrimage site reflects the peoples’ notion of place, what Teilhard de Chardin called the ‘noosphere’, and this notion of place comes about through a whole range of accommodations and contestations. This is a different geography inscribed by people, which has nothing to do with borders, territories or political sovereignty. This imaginary geography

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gives special pride of place to a peoples’ sense of place’. The original area of the Vailankanni cult was first in rural Tamil Nadu. It then spread over the Bay of Bengal: more specifically, along the route from Macao to Colombo, when the Portuguese sailors were washed up on the Tamil coast. Vailankanni then spread out into interior south India, and finally it became a node in a long strand of Catholic shrines that straddles the world. The imagined space of Vailankanni therefore reflected originally ThomistIndic religious practice, then Portuguese expansion and contraction in the eastern Indian Ocean, then a shared Christian territory in peninsular Southasia, and finally, after India’s independence, Vailankanni became a nodal point within the world wide Christian network. Vailankanni was seen by the Vatican as an emblem of Christian faith in a country that does not have a predominantly Christian population. More significantly, by declaring Vailankanni a Marian shrine and then a basilica, the Vatican explicitly placed Vailankanni within the sacred topography of Christianity. This sacred space, this Catholic topography, had to be created in a territory that was not particularly Christian. Catholicism had a simple and time tested strategy to achieve this. In the very early years, when Christianity was taking root in, St. Augustine created a sacred space, a Christian territory of the mind, by creating a Christian landscape through the multiplication of the burial sites of martyrs and the relics of saints. A horizontal Christian network straddling countries, cultures and continents was thus created. This was Christianity’s own, and very effective, ‘foreign policy’ in the early years, where faith was the chief ingredient. In later years, in places that had no biblical sites or local martyrs and saints to boast of, the element of miracle was added. Early Christianity had dealt with this problem by classifying the pagan and classical gods as divine/natural intervention or as magic/miracle. True miracles flowed from conversion to the true faith. Miracles were therefore linked to the ideal of faith and the Marian cult was just another example of miracles occurring. Through the vehicle of miracle (linked intimately with healing and magical cures) distant lands, deities, faiths and peoples could also be incorporated into the Catholic faith31. Faith can operate at different levels, and act as a unificatory point for people of diverse origins. Bharadwaj pointed out that pilgrimages operate on the basis of nodes at different levels-national, supra regional, regional, sub regional and local. It is at the local level that the encounter between Vailankanni and Catholicism initially took place. The local basis of

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integration often displays both a geographical and a mythic imagination far more diverse than any of us can imagine. The nodes at the local level point to the immense diversity within the dominant religion and the local basis of integration32. If it was at the local level that the site showed the initial encounter, it was at the sub regional level that the cult of Vailankanni showed the most diversity and imagination when it was integrated into the Catholic enterprise and thus formed a connected history that was transnational in character. It was at this level that the tension between the ‘high’ and ‘low’ nodes was most manifest. The spatial extent of empire, the differences within Catholicism, the fights against Protestantism, divergent trading privileges, loss of territory, loss of empire and finally, reconciliation with the Vatican in the Jubilee Year, all indicate that Vailankanni’s history cannot be studied solely within the confines of national frames.

XII Discussion Zupanov argues that the Portuguese missionary enterprise established what she calls a ‘tropical catholicism’ which was disciplinary in nature and which sought to mould all pre Christian beliefs into a Catholic straitjacket33. This can be seen in the story of Vailankanni. Susan Baily argues that Vailankanni is neither benign nor protective; her appeal lies in the fact that she is a warrior and conqueror. Bayly notes that one official foundational text asserts that Vailankanni established herself as deity after a long and bloody battle with Mariyammam, the local deity. These legends of blood, gore and milk establish her links to the foundation accounts of Tamil temples34. There are many slippages in the official histories of Vailankanni. Although under the Franciscans, her sacred space was marked by rivalries between the Franciscans, the Augustinians and the Jesuits, and the last put up the Immaculate Heart of Mary, which was under the jurisdiction of the diocese of Trichy. In 1928 the conflict was resolved when this church was demolished and the statuary there transferred to Vailankanni. There are therefore many gaps in the official histories of the shrine, sold in pamphlet form at the shrine and some of which I consulted at the XCHR at Goa35. While Arrokiyamata (the Indianized Mary as healer) introduced originally by the Portuguese as Nossa Senhora de Sade or Our Lady of Health continues as the main attraction, Matthias Frenz argues that the

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processions at Vailankanni show how the cult has inscribed itself into both larger and local networks. By the eighteenth century the Nossa Senhora da Sade was flanked by Nossa Senhora da Boa Viagem (Our Lady of Happy Voyage) and Nossa Senhora do Carmo (Our Lady of Mount Carmel). The former is no longer there as the need for empire has receded, but the latter continues at Vailankanni in Tamil translation as Uttariyamata. The celebration of Uttariyamata in mid-July attracts huge crowds from the Konkan coast of India, when the Carmelite statue is taken out in procession through the town. The Uttariyamata festival serves to demonstrate the deep ties between local cults, Vailankanni, the church and the local and regional communities. There is a similar procession held for Arrokiyamata, but this is a candle procession based on Lourdes, held on the church grounds. Frenz sees these processions as attempts to create a religious network among a scattered diaspora36. The many goddesses at Vailankanni, therefore, have different clienteles and various target areas. This essay argued that while encounters and ‘connected histories’ have existed throughout history, it is our understanding of these encounters (and their subsequent narration (representation of a CH)-and the multi dimensional levels at which both encounter and representation take placethat open up the way to a new dialogue between ‘now’ and the past

XIII Implications The story of Vailankanni shows how site, memory and history have a flexible interface in the creation of a past. In this dialogue the historian, the archaeologist and the anthropologist all have critical roles to play. A cult’s historical origin determines its design and modulates its later development. It is important to see the relation between a given historically derived pilgrimage paradigm and the influences to which history has subjugated it. These could be politics, trade, military developments and economic changes. Thereby a local pilgrimage centre may often transform itself into the sub regional. And all the way through to the topmost level. Vailankanni is special because although its origins are notionally Indic, its indigenous evolution was contested and influenced by external developments.

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XIV Conclusion How does this multifarious past impact on the present? This has been a concern in this essay and in this volume as a whole. It is evident that, in the case of Vailankanni, the past was a systematic fabrication: with time a local cult became hinduized; it was then turned into a Marian shrine, subsequently into a Portuguese church and finally into a basilica blessed by the Vatican. And this basilica has become today a symbol of communitas in peninsular Southasia. But this past, the fabricated past as it were, continues to weigh on the present as a real past, held together by faith and the power of technology (the internet) which has created a virtual community of believers who transcend borders.

References Bayly, Susan, 2004, Saints Goddesses and Kings, Muslims and Christians in South Indian Society, 1700-1900, South Asian Studies 43, Cambridge Press. Bharadwaj, S.H. 1973, Hindu Places of Pilgrimage in India, Berkeley, University of California Press. Cereti, Carlo G Luca M. Olivieri, and Father Joseph Vazhuthanapally, 2003, ‘The Problem of the Saint Thomas Crosses and Related Questions: Epigraphical Survey and Preliminary Research’, East West, ISIAO, Rome. Deffontaine, Pierre, 1948, Geographie et Religions, nrf Gallimard, Paris. Dempsey, Corinne G., 2001, Kerala Christian Sainthood: Collisions of Culture and Worldview in South India, Oxford University Press, U.S. Drewal, Henry J., 1988, ‘Mermaids, Mirrors, and Snake Charmers: Igbo Mami Wata Shrine’, African Arts, 21, 2:38-45 —. 1988, ‘Performing the Other: Mami Wata Worship in West Africa’, The Drama Review T118:160-85 —. 1988, ‘Interpretation, Invention, and Representation in the Worship of Mami Wata’ Journal of Folklore Research 25 (1/2):101-39 —. 2008, Sacred Waters: Arts for Mami Wata and Other Water Divinities in Africa and the Diaspora, Bloomington: Indiana University Press. —. ed. 2008, Mami Wata: Arts for Water Spirits in Africa and Its Diasporas, University of Washington Press. Fonseca, Jose Nicolau da 1878, An Historical and Archaeological Sketch of the City of Goa, Preceded by a Short Statistical Account of the Territory of Goa, Thacker &Co. Limited, Bombay.

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Formoso, Bernard ed. 1996, The Link with Nature and Divine Mediations in Asia, Diogenes 174, 44/2, Summer. Frenz, Matthias, 2008, ‘The Virgin and her “relations”: Reflections on Processions at a Catholic Shrine in Southern India’, in Knut A. Jacobsen ed. South Asian Religions on Display: Religious Processions in South Asia and in the Diaspora, Routledge South Asian Series: 92103. Gruzinski, Serge 2001, Images at War: Mexico From Columbus to Blade Runner (1492-2019), Duke University Press, Durham. —. 1993, The Conquest of Mexico, Polity Press, New York. Morinis, Alan, 1992, Sacred Journeys: The Anthropology of Pilgrimage. Foreword by Victor Turner, Greenwood Press, Westport, CT. Mukherjee, Rila 2008, ‘PUTTING THE RAFTS OUT TO SEA: Talking of ‘Bera Bhashan in Bengal’, Transforming Cultures eJournal, Vol. 3 No 2, November, http://epress.lib.uts.edu.au/journals/TfC, special issue Cultural Currents of the Indian Ocean, eds. Devleena Ghosh and Lola Sharon Davidson. —. 2005, ‘A Connected History or Connected Histories?’, Review article of Sanjay Subrahmanyam, 2005, Explorations in Connected History: From The Tagus to the Ganges, and Mughals and Franks, Oxford University Press, New Delhi, in Calcutta Historical Journal, JulyDecember 2005. —. 2005, ‘History, Memory and “Being There” in Europe from the Thirteenth to the Sixteenth Centuries’ in Rila Mukherjee and Kunal Chattopadhyay (eds). Europe in the Second Millennium: A Hegemony Achieved ? : 10-64, Progressive Publishers, Kolkata. —. 2004, ‘Contested Authenticities’, Rethinking History, 8, 3, September, Routledge, U.K. /U.S.: 459-63. —. 2003, The Lost Worlds of Europe, Progressive Publishers, Kolkata. Sahlins, Marshall, 1985, Islands of History, University of Chicago Press, Chicago. Santos, S.R. 1980, The Shrine Basilica of Our Lady of Health Vailankanni [pamphlet], llth edn, Tanjavur. Subrahmanyam, Sanjay 2005, Explorations in Connected History: From the Tagus to the Ganges, and Mughals and Franks, Oxford University Press, New Delhi. —. 2004, ‘Profiles in Transition: Of Adventurers and Administrators in South India: 1750-1810’ in Sanjay Subrahmanyam (ed). Land, Politics and Trade in South Asia: 103-146, Oxford University Press, New Delhi. —. 2001, Penumbral Visions, Oxford University Press, New Delhi.

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—. 1997, ‘Connected Histories: Notes Towards a Reconfiguration of Early Modern Eurasia’, Modern Asian Studies, Vol.XXXI [3]: 735-62. —. 1993, The Portuguese Empire in Asia 1500-1700, Longmans, London. The Catholic Encyclopedia, Volume VII, (Copyright © 1910 by Robert Appleton Company, Online Edition Copyright ©2003 by Kevin Knight). Thomaz, Luis Filipe F.R., 1995, ‘The Image of the Archipelago in Portuguese Cartography of the 16th and Early 17th Centuries’, Cartographie et Histoire, Archipel 49, Paris: 79-98 and 22 plates. Turner, Victor and Edith 1978, Image and Pilgrimage in Christian Culture, Blackwell, Oxford. Turner, Victor 1973, ‘The Center Out There: Pilgrim’s Goal’, History of Religions, Vol. XII: 191-230. Younger, Paul 1992, ‘Velankanni Calling: Hindu Patterns of Pilgrimage at a Christian Shrine’ in Alan Morinis ed. Sacred Journeys: The Anthropology of Pilgrimage, Greenwood Press, Westport, CT: .89-99. Zupanov, Ines G. 2005, Missionary Tropics: The Catholic Frontier in India (16th -17th centuries), University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor.



Notes 1

Earlier versions of this essay were published as ‘Faith and Empire: Vailankanni in Portuguese Asia’, in Metahistory: History Questioning History, Festschrift in Honour of Teotonio R. de Souza , eds. C.J. Borges and M.N.Pearson, Lisbon, Nova Vega 2007, and as ‘Pilgrimage as Bridge: Vailankanni in Peninsular South Asia as Bridge Between Nations’, in Man and Development, Vol. XXVII, No. 4, 2005, December, Centre for Research in Rural and Industrial Development, Chandigarh, India. 2 See Sanjay Subrahmanyam, (1997) ‘Connected Histories: Notes towards a Reconfiguration of Early Modern Eurasia’, Modern Asian Studies, Vol. XXXI [3]: 735-62. 3 See Rila Mukherjee, 2005, ‘A Connected History or Connected Histories?’, Review article of Sanjay Subrahmanyam, 2005, Explorations in Connected History: From The Tagus to the Ganges, and Mughals and Franks, Oxford University Press, New Delhi, in Calcutta Historical Journal, July-December 2005. 4 Serge Gruzinski, 2001, Images at War: Mexico from Columbus to Blade Runner (1492-2019), Duke University Press, Durham, and The Conquest of Mexico, Polity Press, New York, 1993; Corinne G. Dempsey, 2001, Kerala Christian Sainthood: Collisions of Culture and Worldview in South India, Oxford University Press, U.S; Henry J. Drewal, 1988, ‘Mermaids, Mirrors, and Snake Charmers: Igbo Mami Wata Shrine’, African Arts, 21, 2:38-45, Henry J. Drewal, 1988, ‘Performing the

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 Other: Mami Wata Worship in West Africa’, The Drama Review T118:160-85, Henry J. Drewal, 1988, ‘Interpretation, Invention, and Representation in the Worship of Mami Wata’ Journal of Folklore Research 25 (1/2):101-39, Henry J. Drewal, 2008, Sacred Waters: Arts for Mami Wata and Other Water Divinities in Africa and the Diaspora, Bloomington: Indiana University Press, and Henry J. Drewal ed. 2008, Mami Wata: Arts for Water Spirits in Africa and Its Diasporas, University of Washington Press. 5 See Rila Mukherjee, 2008, ‘PUTTING THE RAFTS OUT TO SEA: Talking of ‘Bera Bhashan in Bengal’, Transforming Cultures eJournal, Vol. 3 No 2, November, http://epress.lib.uts.edu.au/journals/TfC, special issue Cultural Currents of the Indian Ocean, eds. Devleena Ghosh and Lola Sharon Davidson. 6 See Marshall Sahlins, 1985, Islands of History, University of Chicago Press, Chicago. See Chapter 4 ‘Captain James Cook; or the Dying God’ and Introduction: xiii. 7 Serge Gruzinski, 1993, The Conquest of Mexico, translated by Eileen Corrigan, Polity Press, New York: 78-9. 8 See Rila Mukherjee, 2004, ‘Contested Authenticities’, Rethinking History, 8, 3, September, Routledge, U.K. and U.S. : 459-63. 9 Carlo G. Cereti, Luca M Olivieri and father Joseph Vazhuthanapally, 2003, ‘The Problem of the Saint Thomas Crosses and Related Questions: Epigraphical Survey and Preliminary Research’, East West, Rome. 10 Ibid. See 288-9. 11 Sanjay Subrahmanyam, 1993, The Portuguese Empire in Asia 1500-1700, Longmans, London: 132. 12 Jose Nicolau da Fonseca, 1878, An Historical andA rchaeological Sketch of the City of Goa, Preceded by a Short Statistical Account of the Territory of Goa, Thacker &Co. Limited, Bombay, does not mention any shrine or chapel dedicated to Vailankanni in his ecclesiastical accounts. See chapters VII-XVI. 13 Sanjay Subrahmanyam, 1993: 171. 14 Ibid.: 203. 15 Ibid : 140-41. 16 Ibid : 209-212. 17 Luis Filipe F.R., Thomaz, 1995, ‘The Image of the Archipelago in Portuguese Cartography of the 16th and Early 17th Centuries’, Cartographie et Histoire, Archipel 49, Paris, pp. 79-98 and 22 plates. 18 Subrahmanyam, Sanjay, 1993: 120-121. 19 Ibid.: 234. 20 Pierre Deffontaine, 1948, Geographie et Religions, nrf Gallimard, Paris: 298. 21 Ibid.: 299. 22 Ibid.: 309. 23 See Bernard Formoso ed. 1996, The Link with Nature and Divine Mediations in Asia, Diogenes 174, 44/2, Summer. 24 Victor and Edith Turner, 1978, Image and Pilgrimage in Christian Culture, Blackwell, Oxford: 17-18.

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25 Paul Younger, 1992, ‘Velankanni Calling: Hindu Patterns of Pilgrimage at a Christian Shrine’ in Alan Morinis ed. Sacred Journeys: The Anthropology of Pilgrimage, Greenwood Press, Westport, CT: 89-99. See p. 92. 26 Consulted at Xavier Centre for Historical Research, Alto Porvorim, Goa, 2006. 27 Rila Mukherjee, 2003, The Lost Worlds of Europe, Progressive Publishers, Kolkata: 136-138. 28 Sanjay Subrahmanyam, 2005, Explorations in Connected History: From the Tagus to the Ganges, Oxford University Press, New Delhi: 130. 29 Pierre Deffontaine, 1948: 306. 30 Paul Younger, 1992: 94. 31 Rila Mukherjee, 2003: 20-1, 137-8. 32 S.H., Bharadwaj, 1973, Hindu Places of Pilgrimage in India, Berkeley, University of California Press. 33 Ines G. Zupanov, 2005, Missionary Tropics: The Catholic Frontier in India (16th -17th centuries), University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor. 34 Susan Bayly, 2004, Saints Goddesses and Kings, Muslims and Christians in South Indian Society, 1700-1900, South Asian Studies 43, Cambridge Press: 368. 35 SR Santos, 1980, The Shrine Basilica of Our Lady of Health Vailankanni [pamphlet], llth edn., Tanjavur,. 36 Matthias Frenz, 2008, ‘The Virgin and her “relations”: Reflections on Processions at a Catholic Shrine in Southern India’: 92-103 in Knut A. Jacobsen ed. South Asian Religions on Display: Religious Processions in South Asia and in the Diaspora, Routledge South Asian Series: 96-103.

PART IV: REGIONS, CITIZENS AND DEVELOPMENT

CHAPTER TWELVE CITIZENS AGAINST GLOBALIZATION: ANTI-PRIVATIZATION PROTESTS IN INDIA 1 DURING THE LAST DECADE KATRIN UBA

Hundreds of thousands of state bank, insurance, port and transport employees were on strike across the country today [14th December 2006] to protest privatization plans and to demand new labour laws. —AFX Asia “India public sector workers stage strike to protest privatization”, 14.12.2008

Introduction Since the early 1990s, numerous Indian trade unions and civil society organizations have mobilized massive campaigns against the privatization of state owned manufactories, water and electricity, as well as health and educational services. The situation in India is not unique, as campaigns against globalization and neoliberal economic policies take place all around the world - Bangladesh, Pakistan, South Korea, South Africa, entire Latin America and European Union (Harris 2003, Bakker 2007). However, while quite a lot have been written about these campaigns elsewhere, especially in South Africa and Latin America, very little systematic research has been done on citizens’ mobilization against economic reforms in India.2 This lack of attention is surprising for several reasons. First, there is growing disagreement among scholars regarding the historical ‘weakness’ of the Indian labour movement (cf. Teitelbaum 2006, Chhibber 2005). A study focusing on resistance to liberal economic reforms would provide some necessary information for solving this stalemate. Secondly, the argument that opposition to privatization in India is more active than the one in Pakistan (Candland & Sil 2001) or in Bangladesh (Nuruzzaman

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2006), has not been supported by long-term systematic data. Detailed information on anti-privatization actions would help us to better understand the mechanisms of labour mobilisation in these countries. Finally, while official statistics demonstrate a declining number of industrial disputes in India (Kumar 2008), many argue that labourmobilization hinders India’s economic reforms (Sapat 1999). This contradiction makes one wonder how citizens in India have actually responded to economic liberalization which was initiated by the Congress government in the early 1990s. What strategies have been used and who are the main activists? Why is protesting more intensive during specific periods or in some regions? This essay aims at answering these questions by systematically describing the anti-privatization protest mobilization against Indian central and state authorities during the last decade, 1991-2004.3 The discussion is set in the theoretical framework of social movement research and I apply here the method of process-oriented analysis. Empirical data on protest activism is related to three theoretical criteria - grievances, resources of the organizations, and opportunities or threats for mobilization. This study does not aim at testing the theories of social movement mobilization, but rather uses these for structuring the discussion on Indian anti-privatization protests. In contrast to some prior studies which suggest that relatively small trade union density and fragmentation have lead to declining labour mobilization (Chhibber 2005), my data demonstrates growing mobilization against privatization. Moreover, the analysis does not support the argument that the resistance to reforms is facilitated by labour unity (cf. Kumar 2008), because trade unions’ cooperation across party lines is not very frequent. Rather, this chapter argues that citizens’ mobilization against privatization reflects mainly the Indian political process, the ideological leanings of the labour movement and the available political opportunities for protest. Although trade unions’ affiliation to political parties (political allies) facilitates their mobilization in general, it also depends on the party’s attitude towards privatization. Even the mobilization of non-unionized activists (social movement unionism) and authorities’ response to mobilization (repression or concession) are shown to be relevant for explaining citizens’ resistance to privatization in India. The discussion is as follows: the first section provides a short introduction to the Indian privatization process. It is followed by a brief overview of the

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relevant theories for social movement research. The third section describes data-collection and brings forward some problems of media based protest event analysis. The fourth part of the discussion presents Indian data on anti-privatization protests and relates its variations and characteristics to the theoretical framework. I conclude with some implications of the analysis and suggestions for further research.

Privatization process in India Although the first attempts to liberalize the Indian economy were made as early as the mid-1980s, most of the scholars argue that privatization in India started in 1991, when the Congress Party-led government announced the ‘new economic policy’ (Kohli 2006).4 The main aim of this policy was to restructure the inefficient and debt-burdened public sector and generate funds for fighting against the increasing budget deficit (Naib 2004). Just a year later, in 1992, the government sold minority shares in 30 of its 244 public sector enterprises (ibid.). However, in comparison to other countries in Asia or Latin America, the privatization process in India has been slow and gradual (Ahluwalia 2002, Tunc 2005). As governments, regardless of their ideological colour, rarely discussed the reforms in public and even then replaced the word ‘privatization’ with ‘disinvestment’, scholars have labeled the process as ‘reforms by stealth’ (Jenkins 1998). The majority of the Indian public tended to oppose liberal reforms (Yadav 2004), but political parties had a certain ‘pro-privatization’ agreement (Mooij 2005). Even if left-wing parties complained over the potential loss of jobs or they supported workers’ resistance to privatization in the parliament, disinvestment did not slow down during their governance during the period 1996 to 1998. The same parties have supported the Congress-led government since the 2004 elections, though at this time their opposition to privatization is more outspoken (Dastidar et. al 2007). The Congress party, on the other hand, has generally supported privatization, although it does not promote selling the profit making Public Sector Undertakings (PSUs). The Hindu nationalist Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) has been an even stronger proponent of the privatization process, as it launched the most significant privatization program since in 1999. Although the BJP lost the parliamentary elections in 2004, its government managed to disinvest more property than previous governments. Within a bit more than a decade, the Indian federal government managed to privatize 10 enterprises and sell shares from 47, or 20 percent, of its

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PSUs. This generated 11.5 billion US dollars for a deficit burden budget (Naib 2004).5 This does refer to ‘gradual and slow reforms’, but one has to recall that liberal reforms also involved the deregulation and opening for private investments in banking and insurance sectors, as well as in education, electricity, health, and water services (Mooji 2005). Much of the deregulation and privatization took place below the federal level, as reforms affecting power and water sectors are fully controlled by states. Federal authorities actively encouraged local pro-market initiatives everywhere, but the outcome is still very diverse (Mishra & Kiranmai 2006).6 For instance, while Andhra Pradesh privatized 13 State level Public Sector Undertakings (SPSUs) and marked the entire 67 percentages of its SPSUs for further restructuring during 1991-2002, the much larger Uttar Pradesh sold only 2 SPSUs during the same period. The Communist Party stronghold, West Bengal, has not privatized any of its SPSUs and only announced the goal to restructure 15 percent of its owned enterprises. In general, however, the state level privatization process is very similar to the one at the federal level: the Chief Minister or the state government initiates the process and opposition parties, regardless their ideological background, oppose the process until they come to power (Suri 2002). In some states, such as Andhra Pradesh, chief ministers have actively promoted privatization, while in other states (e.g., Orissa, West Bengal) they even oppose the plans proposed by the federal government. Regional leaders were certainly not the only ones opposing the reforms, as active opposition came also from the labour movement, the consumers’ organizations, environmentalists, and other citizens’ organizations. This resistance has several reasons, but labour movement was mainly concerned over the retrenchment of the labour force.7 Proponents of the process, however, argue that the policy allows better services due to the increasing competition and it also fills the state budget (Banerjee 2004). Before discussing the reasons for mobilization in detail, the next section introduces the theoretical framework for protest research.

Anti-privatization struggle in a social movement perspective Social movement research focuses much on explaining the variation and trends of protest mobilization and tends to see protesting as a potential tool for those who have difficulties with affecting politics via traditional

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democratic channels (See more in Diani & Della Porta 2006).8 Alternative or unconventional forms of participation have often been seen as options for resource for the poor segments of a society. Today even large interest groups and NGOs combine different action repertoires for gaining political influence. They use lobbies, participate in elections, and mobilize grassroot protests. The last applies also to the anti-globalization movement or particular mobilizations against privatization in India and elsewhere (See e.g., Harris 2003). Scholars of social movements are mainly interested in why and how protest cycles emerge, as well as what explains the temporal and spatial variation of citizens’ mobilization. The prevalent theories offer varying ways to explain it, but one could simplify and summarize these into three criteria: grievances, resources, and opportunities. The first is closely related to the early approaches of protest research, which saw mobilization as an irrational outburst of various deprived groups (See more in Soule et. al 2004). Since the period from 1960 to the 1970s, protest mobilization has been related to a rational behaviour as well as to specific ‘moral causes’ or grievances (Crossley 2003). A crisis or a social event, such as for example, privatization, allows citizens identifying ‘common grievances’ that then could become a ground for protest mobilization. This usually takes place via a framing process by mobilizing the group. For example activists from some political parties, labour movement or consumer groups present privatization as a process that has negative consequences for employees (retrenchment) and for consumers (e.g., higher water prices). A countermovement could mobilize around the opposite arguments, though the data does not show any pro-privatization protest in India. In contrast, the business lobby in favour of the privatization process was significant (Roychowdhury 2003). For the sake of our analysis, it is also important to note that antiprivatization protests refer to‘re-active’ mobilization, as it is a clear reaction to the government policy proposal (See also Kriesi 1995). Another form, ‘pro-active’ mobilization, aims to gain influence by first getting its goals to the authorities’ agenda. This also means that the character of grievances and opportunities for mobilization are different for these two movement types. These are more dynamic for the‘re-active’ type. However, only grievances are not enough for mobilization, as there are much more problems in society than there are active campaigns for

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solving them. Resources, such as social networks, the number of members and the finances of a mobilizing agency are often seen as crucial by the proponents of the resource mobilization school (See Soule et. al 2004). Prior empirical studies have also demonstrated that the number of members is of particular importance for protest mobilization (Ibid.). Thus, while discussing the anti-privatization struggle in India, we have to take a look at trade union membership. Moreover, citizens and organizations are not mobilising in a vacuum. Both their motives and action repertoire are related to the socio-economic and political contexts. Proponents of the political opportunity school argue that mobilization is dependent on the presence of ‘closed’ or ‘open’ opportunity structures that are either dynamic or static (Meyer 2004). One expects the presence of a particular curve-linear relationship, as protests emerge when authorities are somewhat tolerant to mobilization. This means that mobilizing groups (e.g., trade unions) should not have an overly advantageous position, which would decrease their motivation to use protest as a tool. Nor should the political regime be too repressive, as that might prevent any further protests. Prior studies have shown that elite divisions, political allies of the movement, political threats, and public opinion affect the probability of protest mobilization in a democratic regime (Jenkins et. al 2003, Meyer 2004). Elite divisions are closely related to the election process, which makes the access to decision-making easier also for organizations other than parties (Jenkins et. al 2003.). Thus, one could expect that even anti-privatization protests are more visible during election time. The second, political allies, refers to political parties which support the protesting organization and aid their mobilization with information or via insider tactics (e.g., in the parliament). The impact of allies is dependent on their position – either inside or outside the government. However, empirical studies still disagree on which position is more important (Meyer 2004). Nevertheless, in our discussion, special attention is paid to the labour movements’ close relations to political parties in India. Third, political threats are directly related to the behaviour of the authorities and could be related to the aforementioned grievances and‘re-active’ mobilization. It is suggested that repression or ignorance from the side of authorities dumps protesting, while mobilization is higher at the times when a group expects to suffer due to action not taken (Jenkins et. al 2003). Finally, the role of public support for group demands is overly important, as it allows finding more

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participants. It has probably a recursive relationship with protesting (Meyer 2004), but here we focus only on its importance for protesting. Thus, we observe a dynamic process here – the government proposes a plan for privatization, unions and other organizations oppose it via protesting if the aforementioned criteria are present, and the government reacts to the mobilization by ignoring, repressing or conceding.

Data and its collection In order to provide details about citizens’ mobilization against liberal economic reforms in India, I have compiled a database of antiprivatization protests on the basis of a broad set of news-reports. Such a study of protest events is common in social movement research; although it has also been used in other disciplines (See more in Rucht et. al 1998). A protest is defined here as episodic, collective interactions among groups making claims and their targets, taking into account that claim-making will have taken place via some visible contentions rather than routine process (e.g., demonstration or strike rather than holding a speech or participating in elections). An anti-privatization protest is accordingly the protest where activists make claims against privatization, i.e. against the a transfer of state assets to the private sector, or against the deregulating of public services by allowing private partnerships or against the ‘neoliberal’ package of structural adjustment programs promoted by the World Bank”. The reports were collected and accessed through an electronic database Factiva, which includes many international and Indian newspapers, for example The Hindu, The Economic Times, and Business Line.9 The study is based on reports that were published between 1991 and 2003. This restriction was due to two reasons. First, even though the Congress Party government implemented several pro-business policies already in the mid1980s, radical liberalization plans, including privatization, were adopted only in 1991 (Kohli 2006). Secondly, the selection of end-year, 2003, is justified by two events. First, the Supreme Court declared that government employees have no legal right and no moral justification to go on strike in August 2003 (Supreme Court Act, No. 5556). Although strikes have been illegal before, it was the first legal statement by the Supreme Court that emphasized the illegal and immoral character of strikes. Many saw it as restrictive to labour mobilization (See e.g., Prakash 2004). Second, there were general parliamentary elections in 2004 and these resulted on a change of government. The ruling BJP coalition was replaced by the new

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government, which is led by the Congress Party and does enjoy the support by left-wing parties. (The essay was written just before the withdrawal of Left support to the UPA over the US-India nuclear deal in August 2008-ed). Both of these events changed the context for labour mobilization, and would complicate the comparison over years. In order to capture as many reported protests as possible, the full texts of all news-reports archived in the Factiva database were searched using a variation of relevant keywords.10 Out of these results I examine only those collective actions that were mobilized by groups other than political parties and that clearly declared their resistance to privatization. Certainly, political parties might support such events, but here our focus is limited to non-party groups. All events were carefully coded according to their mobilizing agency, the date and place of the action, the target of the protests, and the number of participants, etc. Altogether, there is information about 226 events.11 I will return to protest details below, but first one has to note that such a media-based protest event analysis has its caveats. The problems of media based protest analysis could be summarized as three biases: description bias, ideological bias, and selection bias (See more in Ortiz et. al 2005). The first refers to inaccuracy of news reports for recording the number of participants or the location of the event. News about ‘hundreds of participants’ in a protest could refer to any event with two or nine hundred activists. Secondly, the ideological bias refers to problems that newspapers are often connected to particular political parties or ideology. For example, it has been suggested that the Indian media tends to favour rather than oppose neoliberal reforms (Gupta 2005). The third and probably the most serious problem of media based protest studies is related to the media’s tendency to report more frequently on violent and large-scale events rather than small and regular events. All these biases could be decreased, though not avoided, by triangulating the data-sources. Therefore, in this study I have combined the information from electronic news-reports with information from the archives of trade unions and civil society organizations, scholarly literature on the Indian economy and industrial relations, and official data provided by the government of India.12 Nevertheless, due to the size and diversity of India, the compiled data might still be biased towards more news-worthy events. We might lack information about small protests in remote areas. On the other hand, privatization is generally a well-monitored process and the

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Factiva news database is mainly directed toward an audience interested in business opportunities in India. Thus, any action seen as disturbing the investment climate would have been reported. By acknowledging these aforementioned problems, one could still argue that the protest data used in this study remains the best available option for providing a systematic overview of any mobilization against privatization in India.

Mobilising against privatisation – when, who and how? I described above the theoretical factors that are used to explain protest emergence. The following sections relate these factors to the collected protest data. Figure 1 demonstrates a trend of anti-privatization protests in India during the period 1991-2003.13

Figure 1: The growing resistance to privatization, declining number of disputes in the public sector and the relatively stable number of man-days lost in public sector disputes in India, 1991—2003.

For comparative purposes, the figure shows also the official number of industrial disputes in the public sector during the same time-period. In contrast to the prevalent argument on declining labour activism in India (e.g., Kumar 2008), the figure presents a different trend. The number of strikes and employer organized lockouts declined, but the number of anti-



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privatization protests increased significantly during the same period. The reported number of man-days lost due to disputes in the public sector has remained relatively constant, demonstrating that these few industrial disputes tend to last longer as the number of participants has not increased (See also Teitelbaum 2006).14 This contradiction is probably related to the fact that India does not present the accounts of political strikes together with industrial disputes (Bhattacherjee 1999), but protests against privatization fall into this category. The trends presented allow also for the argument that prior studies might have underestimated the mobilization of the Indian labour movement while relaying only the number of officially reported strikes. Instead of a declining strike-rate and growing labour quiescence, we can note an increase in protest mobilization, at least against the privatization process. The Indian labour movement has also modified its repertoire of action. While traditionally strikes have been the major protest strategy for trade unions, Table 1 shows that even other forms of actions, especially demonstrations, marches and sit-ins form 23 percent of examined cases.15 Interestingly, in comparison to their Latin American or European counterparts, Indian unions use less frequently road blocks (See e.g., Imig & Tarrow 2001). Table 1: Protests against Privatisation Through Specific Actions.

 Protest tactics

No. Of Actions

Road blocks, house occupations Demonstrations, marches, rallies Strikes and slow-downs Sit-ins (dharna) General nation-wide protests Other (riots, boycotts, rallies) TOTAL Source: Author’s database

Mean no. of participants

Mean duration in days

6

450.3

1.00

54

4 669.4

1.00

91

161 385.4

2.68

17 32

35 635.5 768 256.8

1.13 1.08

26

11 980.2

1.27

226

733 226

1.20

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Protest characteristics – duration and size, vary significantly across action repertoire, and even across the economic sector. For instance, protests in manufacturing and banking sectors were usually shorter than the ones in the mining sector. However, there are also exceptions, such as a 3 month long strike against the privatization of Bharat Aluminium Company (BALCO) in 2001. Still, the average reported duration of protests was one and half days, suggesting that the majority of them lasted only a few hours. Regarding size, general nation-wide campaigns were certainly the largest, though these were followed by actions in the banking and insurance sector, as well as by protests against the privatization of coal mines. In order to understand the scope of these protests, we need to set these into the context of resources available to the mobilizing agency. Thus, we need to examine the size of the Indian labour movement. However, accurate official statistics are not available, particularly for establishing a comprehensive picture over time. Reports that argue for the small trade union density and for the small number of functioning unions in India are often considered inaccurate due to the tradition of unions’ selfreporting (Venkata Ratnam 2001). The existing data provides a complex picture. The amount of unionized workers varies from 2% of the total labour force to 5.5% of the non-agricultural labour force, and to almost 20% of wage earning labour (Sundar 1999).16 In 1995, about 9 million workers were affiliated with trade unions and about 2 million of them worked in the public sector, where unionization is arguably up to 90% (Bhattacherjee 1999, Venkata Ratnam 2001). Thus, in the public sector unions do seem to have resources for mobilization, although across an entire labour force that would also include workers in the informal sector unionization is very low. More importantly, these relatively few members are divided between 5 major trade union federations which have federal and state level branches, and are closely related to different political parties. Comparing numbers in Table 1 and Table 2, especially the average size of anti-privatization campaigns (733226), one could suggest that members of the labour movement are very active. Moreover, the largest protests against privatization mobilized around 10-25 million people, clearly more than the membership of the largest unions, BMS.

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Table 2: Trade Union Membership and Party-affiliation.

 Union federation

Political party

Members Millions

Bharatiya Mazdoor Sangh (BMS) Indian National Trade Union Congress (INTUC) All India Trade Union Congress (AITUC)

BJP Congress

3.117 2.706 0.923

Centre of the Indian Trade Unions (CITU)

Janata Dal, CPI CPI(M)

Hind Mazdoor Sabha (HMS)

non-affiliated

1.477

1.798

Sources: Sinha (2004), Candland and Sil (2001)

This suggests that anti-privatization mobilization was not restricted to the members of the trade unions. Even workers from the unorganized sector, as well as members of other civil society organizations took part in these activities, particularly in actions other than strikes.17 For example, electricity and water privatizations are frequently opposed by consumers’ groups, women’s movements, and environmental organizations.18 Deregulation of the education system is resisted by students’ movements. The last would also explain the increasing protest mobilization in the context where resources of labour movement are the same or declining. The participation of the unorganized sector and civil society organizations is also important due to a lack in labour unity. The data at hand contradicts some studies which claim that the significant resistance to liberal economic reforms in India was a result of labour co-operation (e.g., Kumar 2008). A significant amount of protests were mobilized by left-wing trade union federations (CITU, AITUC), but there were also numerous independent actions by local and sector-specific unions (e.g., the Indian Airlines-Air Corporation Employees Union or the All India Bank Employees Association). The historical rivalry between unions that is often related to their party affiliation has influenced the unions’ mobilization against economic reform. For instance, as the Congress, BJP and its close regional allies (e.g., Telugu Desam Party in Andhra Pradesh) rather support than oppose privatization, unions affiliated to these parties have less opportunities for mobilization than left-wing or independent unions. Here the political allies seem to have a dual role, which becomes even more visible in the following section. Here it suffices to say that left-

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wing unions did co-operate for mobilization, while other unions participated in anti-privatization protests only rarely and did not choose to cooperate much with other organization.

Time-line of protest mobilisation In order to get an even more detailed picture of the resistance against privatization in India, Figure 2 presents monthly protest-data and differentiates the actions which target the regional (state) governments.19 It shows that the mobilization against privatization was rather modest during the early 1990s. This is surprising because liberal reforms were not a new issue for the Indian labour movement. Already in 1986 the Prime Minister of India, Rajiv Gandhi (Congress Party), had to discard the attempted privatization due to fierce labour protests (Candland & Sil 2001). One could suggest that this victory allowed for a labour movement hoping for less radical reforms even in early 1991 and that the threat from inaction was not perceived as significant enough.

Figure 2: The monthly number of all and state governments’ targeting antiprivatization protests in India, 1991—2003.

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On the other hand, early repression by the authorities had probably a negative impact on protest mobilization during the early 1990s. An example comes from Uttar Pradesh (UP), where the police killed 12 workers, who were demonstrating against the sell-out of three local cement factories in June 1991 (Mukul 1991a). Workers had not been consulted during the privatization process (May 1990- February 1991), and did not agree with the eventual retrenchments or closure of the enterprise. It is not clear whether the UP government reversed its decision on privatization due to these protests or due to the fact that meanwhile, after regional elections, a party opposing the sell-out had attained power (Mukul 1991b).20 However, one could suggest that without this early struggle, the cement company would have remained in private hands. This dynamics of threats and opportunities or repression and concession allows us an understanding of citizens’ resistance better than a traditional analysis of industrial disputes. In Figure 2, the first peak in 1993-4 corresponds to the federal government’s decision to open Indian oil exploration and refineries to private investment, and to sell some shares of public banks. Even the governing Congress Party affiliated trade union – INTUC -- participated in some of these campaigns. It was a significant event because prior to this time the federal-level leadership of INTUC distanced itself from any nation-wide anti-privatization campaign. The union declined from most of the protests against the federal government’s privatization policy even during the time the Congress Party was in opposition (i.e. since 1998). This contradicts social movement theory, and suggests that INTUC’s mobilization should rather be explained by the ideological support to privatization than the role of political allies (See also Venkata Ratnam 2001). In comparison, the BJP related union (BMS) participated in several nationwide strikes and demonstrations opposing the privatization policy of the BJP government until 2002. For example, BMS took part in the strike against the privatization of Indira Port (West Bengal) in January 2000 and in the sit-in against the privatization of the Cochin Shipyard Limited (Kerala) in January 2002. Only in September 2002, the union distanced itself from the protests opposing the sell-out of an aluminum corporation (NALCO) in Orissa. Trade unions affiliated to left-wing parties, however, opposed reforms by federal government regardless of the composition of the governing coalition. Thus, one could argue that the reaction to privatization by the Indian labour movement is not simply explained by

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the presence or absence of their political allies in the government, but also by their ideological leanings. Returning to the time-line in Figure 2, it shows the particular protest quiescence during 1995-1996. Rather than reflecting deteriorating opportunities for mobilization, this actually refers to lacking government initiative for privatization. The macroeconomic situation of India worsened, thus the federal government did not propose many PSUs for a sell-out. Moreover, the parliamentary elections were coming and the political elite were well aware of the negative attitude towards privatization among the electorate. Only 23.5 percentages of survey respondents supported privatization in 1996, while 34 percentages opposed it and the rest of respondents did not take a side (Mitra & Singh 1999). These elections finalized with a United Front government composed of left-wing parties, though they did not stop the disinvestment process. Reforms allowing more private investments into the banking sector continued (Mukherji 2004) and these were responded to by increased protests in 1997-1999. The reforms were a clear threat to the unions in the bank and insurance sector as they perceived that privatization leads to closed rural bank offices and retrenchment. High mobilization of bank unions is not only related to this threat, but even their resources, because unions in these sectors have been historically large and well-mobilized (Venkata Ratnam 2001). The following elections resulted with a new government led by the BJP and intensified reforms of the Indian public sector. Figure 2 shows also increased protest since 1999. The period is also described by 3 significant setbacks for anti-privatization activists. First, the government of the largest state, Uttar Pradesh, ignored the massive strike against the unbundling and eventual privatization of the electricity sector in January 2000 (i.e. the peak of state-targeting protests in Figure 2).21 Secondly, in July 2000 the Indian parliament accepted the Insurance Regulatory and Development Bill which was a clear backlash for the bank unions that had managed to interrupt the acceptance of legislation since the early 1990s. Third, the federal government did not give in to the 67-day long strike against the sell-out of Bharat Aluminium Company (BALCO) in March-May 2001. This action was mobilized by all major trade unions after the enterprise was already sold and became a symbol of failed labour resistance (Sridhar 2001).

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Theoretically, one would expect that these negative experiences that demonstrate the presence of ‘closed’ opportunity structures dampen the resistance to economic liberalization. In contrast, groups opposing privatization intensified co-operation with each other. Labour movements, especially left-wing unions, mobilized together with various civil society organizations in numerous massive nation-wide campaigns against the acceptance of Electricity Bill in December 2001 and against the privatization of Indian oil companies in 2003 (See also Roychowdhury 2003). Even the action repertoire was modified, as the use of public interest litigation increased. New strategies gave a positive response in terms of postponed reforms. The Supreme Court of India declared that privatization of oil-companies would need a parliamentary approval. The last was not an easy task, as elections were approaching and the public was still not supportive of liberal economic reforms. The increasing public awareness on reforms has increased opposition to privatization from 34 percent in 1996 to 48 percent in 2004 (Yadav 2004). The proportion of proponents remained the same, ie. 24 percent (Ibid.). Hence, one could suggest that active resistance to privatization was a result of prevalent negative attitudes among the general public and it also helped to gain some concessions. Moreover, the Indian public voted the BJP government out of power in 2004, though some scholars argue that public opposition to privatization was not the major reason for their defeat to the Congress Party (Wilkinson 2005). Nevertheless, the reform process stopped for a while and protests became more visible again in 2007-8, when public airports were set for privatization.

Conclusion The presented data demonstrates clearly that there has been a significant citizens’ mobilization against neoliberal economic reforms in India. This is not surprising in the general context of the anti-globalization and antiprivatization mood all around the world. On the other hand, prior research on the Indian labour movement argued that the declining membership of trade unions and political fragmentation would hinder any protest mobilization. The results of this study demonstrate that limited resources or relatively small trade union density does not lead directly to quiescence on the streets, as participants in anti-privatization campaigns come also from unorganized sectors and civil society groups. The study also shows that traditional strikes and sit-ins are in the contemporary setting combined

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with a broader set of actions from street demonstrations to public interest litigation. Analyzing the data within the framework of social movement research allows for an argument that opportunity structure for mobilization and perceived threats of privatization explain well the anti-privatization protest cycles in India. Although the trade unions’ party affiliation generally facilitated the mobilization, the prevalent ideological leaning of the party sometimes also hindered the labour movement from participating in protests. The second largest union, the Congress Party affiliated INTUC, restrained from the majority of protests even while its ally was in opposition. Thus, ideology of the ally rather than its position, or the groups’ resources, affected the Indian labour movement’s protest mobilization. This is not to argue that anti-privatization mobilization in India is fully explained by ideological aspects, because we have also shown that mobilization reflects policy proposals and responses to protest from authorities. Proposals on privatization are usually responded to by protests that are mobilized by labour, consumer or environmental movements. Even if set-backs and repression lead to a temporal decline in protesting, as in early 2001, new strategies and the cooperation of activists generate the hope that in such a democratic country as India citizens would not be quiescent if they feel that there are reasons for opposing government policies. To summarize, this article seeks to improve our understanding of the dynamic processes of citizens’ resistance to privatization. Future research should continue to examine these developments and set the Indian case in a broader comparative picture. Moreover, only a long-term study would allow us to evaluate the broader socio-economic and political consequences of the anti-privatization mobilization in India.

References Agarwala, R., 2007, ‘Resistance and compliance in the age of globalization: Indian women and labour organization’, The ANNALS of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 610 (1):143–159. Ahluwalia, M. S., 2002, ‘Economic reforms in India since 1991: Has gradualism worked?’ Journal of Economic Perspectives, 16 (3): 67–88. Arun, T., and F. Nixson, 1998, ‘The reform of the power sector in India: 1991-1997’, Journal of International Development, 10 (4): 417–426.

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Bakker, K., 2007, ‘The "commons" versus the "commodity": Alterglobalization, anti-privatization and the human right to water in the global south’, Antipode, 39(3):430–455. Banerjee, S. G. and M.C Munger, 2004, ‘Move to markets? An empirical analysis of privatization in developing countries’. Journal of International Development, 16 (2):213–240. Besley, T. and R. Burgess, 2004, ‘Can labour regulation hinder economic performance? Evidence from India’, Quarterly Journal of Economics, 119 (1): 91–134. Bhattacherjee, B., 1999, ‘Organized Labour and Economic Liberalization in India, Past, Present and Future’, ILO Discussion Paper Series No. 105. Candland, C. and R. Sil ed. 2001, The Politics of Labor in Global Age: Continuity and Change in Late-industrializing and Post-socialist Economies, Oxford University Press. Chibber, V., 2005, ‘From Class Compromise to Class Accommodation: Labor's Incorporation into the Indian Political Economy’ in Social Movements in India. Poverty, Power and Politics, Rowman & Littlefield : 32–61. Dastidar, S. G., R. Fisman, and T. Khanna, 2007, ’Testing limits to policy reversal: Evidence from Indian privatizations’, Working paper no.13427. Della Porta, D., & M. Diani, 2006, Social Movements: An Introduction, Blackwell Publishing. Gupta, S., 2005, ‘Post-liberalisation India: How free is the media?’, South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies, 28 (2):283 – 300. Harris, R. L., 2003, ‘Popular resistance to globalization and neoliberalism in Latin America’, Journal of Developing Societies, 19 (2-3):365–426. Imig, D. R., and S. G. Tarrow, 2001, Contentious Europeans: Protest and Politics in an Emerging Polity. Rowman & Littlefield. Jenkins, J. C., D. Jacobs, and J. Agnone, 2003, ‘Political opportunities and African-American protest, 1948-1997’, American Journal of Sociology, 109:277-303. Jenkins, R., 1998, ‘The Developmental Implications of Federal Political Institutions in India’, in Jenkins, R. (ed.) The democratic developmental state: political and institutional design, Oxford University Press. —. 2004, ‘Labor policy and the second generation of economic reform in India’, India Review, 3 (4):333–363. Kohli, A., 2006, ‘Politics of economic growth in India, 1980-2005. Part I: The 1980s’, Economic and Political Weekly, April 1:1251–1260.

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Kriesi, H., 1995, ‘The political opportunity structure of new social movements: Its impact on their mobilisation’, in Jenkins, C. & Klandermans, B. (ed.) The Politics of Social Protest: 167-198, UCL. Kumar, R., 2008, ‘Globalization and changing patterns of social mobilization in urban India’, Social Movement Studies, 7 (1):77 – 96. Kumar, S. 2004, ‘Impact of economic reforms on Indian electorate’, Economic and Political Weekly, 39 (16):1621–1630. Meyer, D. S., 2004, ‘Protest and political opportunities’, Annual Review of Sociology, 30:125–145. Mishra, R. K. and J. Kiranmai, 2006, ‘Restructuring of SLPSEs in India. A macro analysis’, Economic and Political Weekly, 41 (39):4170–4177. Mitra, S., 1992, Power, Protest and Participation: Local Elites and the Politics of Development in India, Cambridge University Press. Mitra S. and V. Singh, 1999, Democracy and Social Change in India. Sage Publications. Mooij, J., 2005, The Politics of Economic Reforms in India, Sage Publications. Mukherji, R., 2004, ‘Privatisation, federalism and governance’, Economic and Political Weekly, January 3. Mukul, 1991a, ‘Workers against Privatization’, Economic and Political Weekly, July 21. —. 1991b, ‘Workers' struggle halts privatization moves’, Economic and Political Weekly, October 26. Naib, S., 2004, Disinvestment in India. Policies, Procedures, Practices. Sage publications. Nuruzzaman, M., 2006, ‘Labor resistance to pro-market reforms in Bangladesh’, Journal of Asian and African Studies, 41 (4):341–357. Ortiz, D. G., D. J. Myers, E. N. Walls, and M.E.D. Diaz, 2005, ‘Where do we stand with newspaper data?’ Mobilization: An International Quarterly, 10 (3):397 – 419. Parker, D. and C.Kirkpatrick, 2005, ‘Privatisation in developing countries: A review of the evidence and the policy lessons’, The Journal of Development Studies, 41 (4):513–541. Prakash, A., 2004, ‘Workers' right to strike’, Economic and Political Weekly, September 25. Roychowdhury, S., 2003, ‘Public sector restructuring and democracy: The state, labour and trade unions in India’, The Journal of Development Studies, 39 (3):29–50. Rucht, D., 1998, Acts of Dissent, Sigma, Berlin.

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Sapat, A., 1999, ‘Privatization strategies adopted for public sector reform in India: Determinants and constraints’, Political Studies Review, 16 (2):99–128. Shah, G., 2004, Social Movements in India. A Review of Literature, Sage Publications, 2nd edition. Sinha, A., 2004, ‘Ideas, interests and institutions in policy change: A comparison of West Bengal and Gujarat’, In Jenkins, R., (ed.) Regional Reflections: Comparing Politics across India's States, Oxford University Press. Snow, D. A., S. A. Soule, & H. Kriesi, 2004, editors, The Blackwell Companion to Social Movements, Blackwell. Sridhar, V., 2001, The BALCO struggle. Frontline, The Hindu, April 1427. Sundar, S. K. R., 1999, ‘Official data on trade unions. some comments’, Economic and Political Weekly, October 2. Suri, K., 2005, ‘The dilemma of democracy: Democratic process and electoral politics in Andhra Pradesh’ in Mooij, J., ed. The politics of economic reforms in India : 130–169. Sage Publications. Teitelbaum, E., 2006, ‘Was the Indian labour movement ever co-opted?’ Critical Asian Studies, 38 (4):389 – 417. Tunc, H., 2005, ‘Privatization in Asia and Latin America’, Studies in Comparative International Development, 39 (4):58–86. Uba, K., 2007, Do Protests Make a Difference? The impact of antiprivatisation mobilisation in India and Peru. PhD thesis published at Uppsala University. Venkata Ratnam, C., 2001, Globalization and Labour-Management Relations. Dynamics of Change. Response Books. Wilkinson, S. I., 2005, ‘Elections in India: Behind the congress comeback’, Journal of Democracy, 16 (1):153–167. Yadav, Y. 2004, ‘Economic reforms in the mirror of public opinion’, The Hindu, 13. 06. 2004.



Notes 1

Parts of this chapter have been previously published in Uba, Katrin, 2008, ‘Labor Union Resistance to Economic Liberalization in India: What Can National and State Level Patterns of Protests against Privatization Tell Us?’ Asian Survey, September/October, Vol. 48, No. 5: 860-884. 2 There are many excellent studies on Indian labour-laws and a few comparative assessments of labour mobilization in relation to economic reforms, but the author

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 is not aware of any systematic study on protests against privatization in India (See e.g., Roychowdhury 2003, Jenkins 2004, Sinha 2004, Agarwala 2007, Shah 2004). 3 The term ‘privatization’ could be defined in many ways and here I employ it in its broadest sense. That is, privatization refers to transfer of state assents to private companies, as well as to deregulation of public services and initiating publicprivate partnerships (See e.g., Parker 2005). The study is also aimed to be neutral towards the privatization policy. 4 The detailed description of Indian privatization process is beyond the scope of this chapter, a thorough coverage could be found in Naib (2004), Mooji (2005), and Sapat (1999). 5 Compare this with Poland, which with its 3 times smaller economy generated 16.9 billion USD (World Bank Reports online, www.worldbank.org). 6 As data on state-level privatization is very scarce and contradictory, the most part of the discussion here focuses on the federal level. 7 The Government of India launched a specific voluntary retirement scheme for compensating redundant workers and even offered some equities of public enterprises to workers. Still, many were not willing to opt for the scheme or had no resources to buy any offered shares (Venkata Ratnam 2001). 8 Providing a comprehensive overview of social movement research and theories is beyond the scope of this chapter, excellent reviews for that are Della Porta and Diani (2006). 9 Factiva also archives news from news agencies such as Dow Jones, Reuters and The Press Trust of India. See also www.factiva.com. 10 One search-command was: ‘(disinvestment OR privatization OR restructuring OR privatize OR disinvest) AND (protest OR strike OR resist OR oppose OR dharna OR sit-in OR demonstration)’, limiting the time-frame to 01.01.1991 — 01.01.2004 and the geographical area to India. 11 For example, one news-report looks as follows: Millions of workers took part in a general nation-wide strike opposing the government’s economic policy and privatization of the public sector on 16th of June 1992. The action was mobilized by left-wing trade unions and 12 000 activists were detained before the strike. (The Associated Press, 16.06.1992) 12 These are for example, the journal Economic and Political Weekly, India Labour archive (http://www.indialabourarchives.org), and personal correspondence with trade union representatives. 13 I present here the strikes in the public sector, but the decline of disputes in the private sector is even more significant – from 1157 in 1991 to 289 in 2002 (Kumar 2008). Sources for the presented data in Figure 1 are from the author’s database and various numbers of Annual Reports published by the Ministry of Labour. 14 The ‘mandays lost’ is a frequently used indicator in Indian official statistics. It takes into account the number of involved workers and the length of the action, and is usually measured in millions. 15 Protest repertoire is certainly context dependent. Thus, typical protest-strategies in India have been dharna (sit-in strike), gherao (surrounding the decision-maker), hartal (strike), morcha (demonstration) and rasta roko (traffic-blockade) (See

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 more in Mitra 1992). Note that 22% of actions were general nation-wide campaigns with multiple protest strategies. Almost 7% of the total recorded events (283) were ‘calls for strike’ or ‘calls for mobilization’. As there is no option to check whether these actions really took place, these are left out from the analysis. 16 According to the Census of India, 2001, the Indian labour force consists of 402 million people, and 57% of them work in agriculture (Candland & Sil 2001). 17 Increasing mobilization by workers in non-organized sectors, especially against the federal or state government rather then employees is also discussed in Agarwala (2007). 18 Women activists of All India Janawadi Mahila Sanghatane protested against the privatization of Gulbarga city’s (State of Karnataka) drinking water supply on the 6th of July 1999.A large section of women gathered in front of the municipal council and demanded the reversal of the privatization-decision. (The Times of India, 07.07.1999) 19 During my observation period, there were six parliamentary (Lok Sabha) elections - 1991, 1992, 1996, 1998, 1999, and 2004. And there were elections almost every year in some of the 28 States. 20 It is worth noticing that two cement factories were closed by the UP government in 1995 and that the entire company was re-privatized in 2002. This case clearly describes the unsteady ‘success’ of an anti-privatization struggle and refers to the difficulties in studying the outcomes of protests (one could find more on that in Uba 2007). 21 Every state in India has a State Electricity Board that controls generation, transformation and distribution of power. In order to privatize some functions of this utility, experts (often from the World Bank) suggested unbundling the enterprise (Arun & Nixson 1998). This took place in Uttar Pradesh in 2000, but even earlier in other states such as Orissa, Haryana, and Andhra Pradesh.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN IRRIGATION MANAGEMENT: EFFECTIVENESS OF PEOPLE’S PARTICIPATIONA CASE STUDY OF THE ARALIKOTTAI VILLAGE TANK IN TAMIL NADU R. GOPINATH

Introduction Tank irrigation was an established practice in most of the semi-arid tropical parts of India for a long time; it continues to be the most important minor irrigation source from surface water. Among the states in India, Tamil Nadu is one of the foremost in the use of tank water. There are 39000 tanks in Tamil Nadu. They account for the maximum irrigated area; that is, about 30 per cent of the total irrigated area of the state. With the utilisation of more than 92 per cent of all the available surface water and 70 per cent of the groundwater resources in Tamil Nadu, there is little scope for further harnessing of surface water sources in the State (Govindasamy and Palanisami, 1990). New investment in major irrigation projects is mostly unavailable due to the high cost of big projects. Moreover, the cost of electricity is also a constraint for maintaining large irrigation projects over time. Hence, emphasis should be on improving the existing small irrigation systems such as tanks. Currently tank irrigation is considered as a neglected source and irrigation tanks are under-utilised due to mismanagement. However, through suitable management strategies, it is possible to improve the operational efficiency of the tanks (Narayanamoorthy, 2001). Historically, tanks and other small water bodies were maintained in good condition for irrigating crops by the user communities themselves. In most

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parts of India, especially in the Southern states, under the kudimaramathu, users were expected to contribute labour for the upkeep and repair of irrigation facilities from time to time. But, in recent years when the government took over tank maintenance activities, kudimaramathu has more or less disappeared. (Athreya et al, 1990; K. Sivasubramaniyan, 2000a & b). Declining Government expenditure on minor irrigation is the main reason for this trend. At this juncture, people’s participation with regard to rural water resources can bring about sustainable resource management. Collective people’s participation can translate a dream into reality. The example of Bhanvata village in Bihar state provides evidence in this direction. Tireless efforts by a committed individual brought about a positive change in the storage of water and contributed to the greenery of the village (Prem N. Sharma, 1998). This research work is an attempt to document the collective actions of the village institution and Water User Association’s (WUA) to preserve a tank resource and enable proper distribution of available tank water. The work has been carried out in Aralikottai tank of Aralikottai village in Sivagangai district in Tamil Nadu, India.

Methodology There was no structured questionnaire or interview schedule used to collect information from the villagers of Aralikottai. The researcher prepared specific outlines for discussions with the village communities. The study consists of both primary information collected from individuals and secondary information collected from government records. Secondary data relating to hydraulic details of tank and infrastructural facilities available in the village were collected from the Water Resources Organisation of the PWD and VAO respectively. Primary data were collected from the village people and farmers by group discussions. There were also discussions with farmers and office bearers of the water users association (WUA) to know the macro picture of the functioning of the water users association of Aralikottai. Villagers belonging to the neighboring villages were also interviewed to ascertain the details. The information was collected during July 2003.

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The Setting Aralikottai tank (referred to as Arali tank in local parlance) is a PWD system tank situated in Aralikottai village of Tiruppathur taluk in Sivagangai district. The tank is supplied through a feeder channel, which receives its supply from the right flank surplus weir of Eriyur tank, a larger water supply body. The river of Upparuneer in the Thirumanimuthar minor basin, which originates in the nearby hills, feeds the Eriyur tank. The supply channel also feeds four other tanks namely, the Nainiendal, Nainikoothanendal, Koothanendal, Therkukallendal tanks. Though the supply channel is under the control of WRO/PWD, the villagers of Aralikottai, in association with upstream tank villagers, do the annual cleaning work. The Zamindarpatti tank and two others at a lower plane get their water supply from the Aralikottai tank. Water discharged through the deepest Iyyanarkovil sluice of the Aralikottai tank flows through its field channel to feed the Zamindarpatti tank. There is no supply channel to the Zamindarpatti tank. The surplus water of the Aralikottai tank flows into the Thirumanimuthar River. In addition to the Aralikottai tank, there are five other small tanks and an oorani in the village under the control of the Panchayat Union (oorani-a small, dug out, drinking water pond, used for harvesting rain water, usually within or near a village in Tamil Nadu-ed). They are: Nachiyarkanmai, Alangarkulam, Pallanakanmai, Kadampuranikanmai and Pudukanmai and Ulagammaikanmai Oorani for the drinking water supply. The small tanks have ayacut areas of less than 10 acres each and are maintained by the farmers who use them. (ayacut-the area served by an irrigation project such as a canal, dam or a tank-ed). The hydraulic details of the Aralikottai tank are given below. Registered Ayacut : 161.675 ha Length of Tank bund : 2225 m Full Tank Level (FTL ) : 15.250 m Maximum water level (MWL) : 15.850 m Tank Bund Level (TBL). : 16.760 m Surplus arrangement : Two weirs I weir - at LS.120 m - Length 15.45 m - Discharge capacity 26.70 cusecs II weir- at LS 252m - Length 38 m - Discharge capacity 63.17 cusecs. Capacity of tank : 1.369 M m3 Number of fillings : 2

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Annual storage : Water spread area at FTL :

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1.76 M.m3 1.165 M m2

The Aralikottai tank has five sluices. All the five sluices were reconstructed by the PWD during the EEC assisted Tank Modernisation Project. The names of the sluices are: Vadakkumettu madai : L.S. 950 m - Sill level 13.970 m Vadakku madai : L.S. 1190 m - Sill level 12.490 m Nadu madai : L.S. 1490 m - Sill level 12.090 m Iyyanarkovil madai : L.S. 1905 m - Sill level 12.290 m Samiyar madai : LS. 2180 m - Sill level 14.630 m

– 20.425 ha -39.935 ha 29.530 ha 63.295 ha 8.490 ha

According to local folklore, the village was gifted by the Pudukkottai king to his horseman, a Muslim, and was named, Zamindaripatti (also known as Zaminpatti). The Zamindaripatti tank is located in lower down the Aralikottai tank in the village of Zamindaripatti. There is no formal arrangement for supplying water from Aralikottai tank to the Zamindaripatti tank. On the basis of mutual understanding the Aralikottai people release water to the Zamindaripatti tank during crisis periods. Whenever there is surplus storage in the tank and the Zamindaripatti farmers make a request, water is released as per the crop requirement. If there is no surplus water to spare, no water is released to the Zaminpatti tank. However, when the people of Zaminpatti make a request to release water in a crucial situation to save their crop, the Aralikottai association conducts meetings and tries to arrive at an unanimous decision over the release of water to Zamindaripatti tank. In order to get water, the people of Zamindaripatti need to desilt the field channel of Iyyanarkovil sluice regularly. The Samiyar madai is now defunct and closed as the ayacut lands are converted into house sites. For the past ten years water could not be discharged through this sluice. Though there are 6 irrigation tanks, the Aralikottai tank is the major one, irrigating more than 80 percent of wetlands in the village. Normally the tank receives water during the Tamil months of Purattasi, Ippasi and Karthigai (September to November). If the rain is delayed up to November (Karthigai) then it is impossible to cultivate kharif paddy. Once the tank is

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filled up to full tank level (FTL), it is enough to cultivate one paddy crop. The tank’s role is therefore crucial to the village economy.

Alternate sources of water There are 30 wells in the Aralikottai village. Out of this, ten open wells and one bore well are in the ayacut area of Aralikottai tank, providing ground water supplementation. The people of Aralikottai own all these ten wells. The depth of the wells ranges from 40 to 50 feet. One villager has sunk a bore well to a depth of 350 ft. Five of the wells are located in the head reaches while the others are at the tail end. Farmers cultivate three crops of paddy by using well water. A farmer in the head reaches said that one or two acres of paddy could be cultivated using the ground water during summer. Water could be pumped for 2 to 3 hours per day from the wells during summer. The majority of the farmers use the ground water for irrigating their coconut trees also. There is no inter-crop in coconut fields. During the monsoon, when the tank has water, the water level in the wells rises very near to ground level. The well owners market the water, selling it to nearby farmers, but they do not sell water regularly. Those who do not own wells buy the water at Rs.10 per hour. All wells are connected with electric motors (3 and 5hp). There are many farm ponds in the ayacut area. The farm ponds were dug up mainly to collect the drainage water from paddy fields and leakages from sluices. The collected water is mainly used for cattle. However, when there is a shortage of water in the tank, the water from these ponds will be lifted either manually or with pumps for irrigation purposes.

Agriculture and Irrigation Only one crop of paddy is cultivated in the Aralikottai tank ayacut. Seeding activity would start in September and transplantation would be in October. Those who have wells raise two paddy crops. Paddy varieties used are IR20, ADT36, Co43, and Ponni a superior variety. Well water-supplemented lands are cultivated with Ponni variety as it is a long duration crop. Though the farmers have traditionally raised maize, ragi and groundnut, millets are not cultivated now. Their cultivation pattern has changed into a monoculture of paddy. Sugarcane is not suitable for their soil. Coconut is grown next to paddy and to some

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extent banana is also grown. The cultivation costs of paddy works out to Rs.3, 500 to Rs.4, 000 per acre per season. Production is around 25 to 30 bags (1500 to 1800 kg) and the gross income varies between Rs.9, 000 and Rs.11, 000. .

Other uses of the tank Tank bed cultivation The people of Eriyur had encroached around 40 to 50 acres in the tank bed and cultivated millets. Besides, cattle sheds were also put up. The Public Works Department (PWD) evicted the encroachers and de-silted the tank with people’s participation under the Tank Modernisation Project. But the encroachers have come back over the past two years. The farmers of Aralikottai do not consider this as an issue as the encroachers do not take tank water for irrigation.

Fishing Fishing rights are given out through public auction. The farmers association bids and obtains the right from the PWD only to give to private persons for higher bids through re-auction. Though outsiders can also bid for the right, only the locals take part in the auction generally. Over the last few years, persons who had been awarded the right had failed to pay the bid money in time, leading to problems among the people. To tackle the problem, the council has now decided to take up the responsibility of safeguarding the fishes for about four months. The farmers’ association appoints a watchman, who is paid Rs.1000 per month, to guard against fishing in the tank. Anyone found fishing would face punishment from the village council, which is usually in the form of a fine. On a pre-determined day, which is widely publicised, everybody is allowed to fish in the tank. The only condition is that they should not use large nets (except hand nets). But the association has not got any revenue through fishing, as the tank has not filled during the last two years.

Fuel wood collection There is no restriction on collecting fuel wood from the tank. Babul (botanical name- acacia nilotica; family- luguminosae) trees that grow

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inside the tank are not auctioned. The locals are allowed to graze their cattle on the tank bed.

Socio Economic Conditions of Aralikottai There are 289 households in Aralikottai village. This village has Yadava, Kallar, Maravar, Ahamudaiyar, Paraiyar, Sakkiliyar, Vaniyachettiyar, Nadar Vellala, Muthuraja and Muslims in addition to service castes of carpenters, barbers and dobhies (washermen-ed). Yadavas form the majority with 150 households (HH) followed by Kallars (50HH), and Muslims (15HH). The villagers maintain that there has been no caste conflict among them till now.

Land holding Pattern Kallars, Ahamudaiyars, Thevars, Yadavas and the Muslims hold the major portions of the lands. The majority of the Dalits are landless agricultural labourers. The largest landholder in the Aralikottai tank possesses only 4 acres. Tenancy is rare in the village; but those who had migrated to towns have leased out their lands. Preference is given to relatives in leasing out the lands. The rate of tenancy is one third for the owner and two thirds for the cultivator. The land value in the village ranges from Rs.1, 00,000 to 1, 20,000 per acre for wet lands and around Rs. 20,000 to Rs. 25,000 per acre for dry lands. Dalits are the main agricultural work force in the village, though those from other castes too work as labourers, in their own farms and the farms of other landholders. Labourers from the neighbouring villages of Ammasipatti, Silanthakudi, Madagupatti, Ariyur, Vadavampatti and Mallakottai too come to work in Aralikottai during the peak agricultural season. Contract employment is becoming increasingly popular as it requires no supervision and time frame. The labourers too can earn more. Male agricultural labourers are paid Rs.60 to Rs.70 per day while women are paid Rs.30 to Rs. 35 per day. Rs. 125 is paid per bullock and Rs. 250 per tractor for ploughing. Men get 10 padi (12.5kg) and women 5 padi (6kg) for harvesting. For threshing they get five padi (6.25kg) per bag. Under the contract system, Rs.450-500 is paid per acre for transplantation; and 2 padi (2.5kg) per cent for harvesting (250kg per acre).

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Non-farm Activities The village has a large number of milch cows and two cooperative dairies. Milk is transported to Karaikudi, Tiruppathur and Sivagangai. Other than agriculture, dairy farming is a major source of income and employment in the village. But for this there is no other non-farm activity in the village. Labourers go for de-silting and construction works in nearby villages. The youth migrate to Tiruppur and Erode to work in factories. A few landlords do business in Chennai, while the landless move over to towns to work in hotels and teashops. The Panchayat president and farmers say that every family in Aralikottai village has at least one earning member pursuing non-agricultural activities outside the village. The earnings are ploughed back to the village.

Infrastructural Facilities Students from the village have to go to Eriyur for their higher secondary education. There are 2 government and around 3 private colleges at Tiruppathur and Sivagangai. The nearest town is Thiruppathur (13 km). The nearest police station is at Madagudipatti (5 km). Eriyur has a primary health centre and a bank. Buses plying on the Thiruppathur-Sivagangai and Thiruppathur-Aralikottai routes link the village with nearby towns and markets.

Marketing Large farmers sell their paddy directly to mills in Sivagangai and Madurai while others have to depend on local agents who extend ‘advances’ during the cultivation period. Coconuts are sold in the Thirupathur and Sivagangai markets. Some farmers extract coconut oil and sell it in markets locally and outside.

Credit sources A Primary Cooperative Credit Society functions in Aralikottai village. But marginal farmers and tenants largely depend on private moneylenders locally or in Madathuppatti village.

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Role of Government Departments a) The Public Works Department The PWD reconstructed the sluices in Aralikottai tank during 1996-97. This work was part of the first phase of the European Economic Council (EEC) Tank Modernisation Project. During the rehabilitation work, farmers put forward three major demands: wide field channels to carry both irrigation and drainage water plug and socket type sluices and a community well. But none of the demands were fulfilled. The PWD reconstructed the existing sluices as they were and de-silted the supply channel. The field channels were redesigned to carry only irrigation discharges with a narrow width but with more depth. As a result, farmers could not use conventional shovels to clean the channel; instead they had to use smaller garden shovels for cleaning. This is cumbersome and time consuming. Although the PWD has modified its design as per the recommendations of Anna University in Phase 2 and Extension projects, it was reluctant to rectify the defects in Aralikottai tank. The OFD work in the field channels was not done properly and the Water Users’ Association (WUA) had to do some replacements at their own cost. A few years back the PWD evicted the encroachments in Arali kanmai. Along with this work it increased the height of the bund (embankment-ed) at a cost of Rs.1, 00,000. The Aralikottai tank surplus weir was repaired during 1998-99. The PWD authorities carry out inspections once in two years and minor defects are repaired. b) The Panchayat The Aralikkottai Panchayat allots money for clearing Ipomea (popularly known as Neyveli kattamanakku) from inside the tank and the work is being carried out every year. The panchayat also provides money for minor repairs in the bund. Trees on the bund come under the control of the panchayat. The Revenue department collects 2-C patta tax from those who had planted trees in the tank bund and common land. No de-silting work has been carried out in panchayat-controlled tanks.

Rainfed Agriculture Rain fed agriculture is important in the village. Farmers cultivate groundnut in large areas and take up simultaneously the cultivation of gingelly (oriental sesame-ed) and maize as a mixed crop. Thirty years ago farmers used to cultivate cumbu (millet, bajra-ed) and maize, but these

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crops are rare these days. The Yadava, Muslim and Thevar communities mainly hold rainfed lands. There is no ground water supplement to dry land agriculture.

Village Institutions There is a village council that looks after the affairs of the village including tanks. The village council has representation from all castes except Dalits. The Dalits are not involved in the decision-making process. Each community has its own self-help groups (SHGs) for women. These SHGs have been running successfully for the past three years. The Aralikottai tank water users association was formed in 1986. This association has two committees: one to monitor the water guide (a paid person to regulate the opening of water to different lands; popularly known as water guide) and irrigation related issues and the other to monitor the sluice condition, clean the Ipomea from the tank and lobby with the Collector and PWD officials. The association, with 120 ayacutdars (landowners entitled to water rights-ed) of the Arali tank as its members, has made a bank deposit of Rs. 60,000 and the interest accrued is spent on sluice repairs and tank maintenance works. Payment to the water guide is also made from this amount. The association members elect the President, Treasurer and committee members. The current president of the association belongs to the Yadava community while the vice-president is a Thevar. The other office-bearers, including the Secretary; Joint Secretary and Treasurer, are all from the Yadava community. The WUA functions as per the directions of the village council, which is the supreme authority. The farmers association and village council jointly take up small repair works in the bunds and sluices of the tanks.

Collective Action (Decision Making) Water Management Whenever the Eriyur tank is on the verge of touching FTL, the village council meets and decides on the date to clean the feeder channel from the Eriyur surplus weir. All able bodied persons are supposed to participate (around 200 persons) in the work. Those who cannot are supposed to pay the wages for the labourers engaged as substitutes. Normally all the villagers participate. Once sufficient water is received, the council decides the dates for opening the sluices. The office bearers of WUA attend the

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council meeting, accept the decisions made by the council and implement them. Neerpaitchi are appointed to each sluice and they are responsible for opening the sluices at 6 o’clock in the morning and for closing them by 6 o’clock in the evening. No night irrigation is permitted from the sluice. Based on the availability of water, the WUA fixes the irrigation time for specific fields and nobody can irrigate beyond the stipulation. None other than the water guides are allowed to open or close the sluices, though farmers are responsible for irrigating their fields. A separate committee monitors this activity. Small conflicts that arise between the farmers in the upper reaches and the tail end are sorted out to mutual satisfaction, with those downstream given more time for irrigation. So far, no major conflict has risen over the issue. Farmers themselves maintain the field channels and the farmers’ association decides the date to clean them. On a said date all farmers assemble in their respective field channels and clean them. Those who are not able to present, have to pay up the wages of one male worker to the association. Pumping water directly from the tank is not allowed in this village.

Special Characteristics of the Tank This tank, by virtue of its location, is constrained by both upstream and downstream tanks. It has to share the water flow in the feeder channel with tanks upstream and also its storage with tanks located downstream. As a result, institutional issues turn complex. Although a WUA exists to manage and maintain the tank’s day-to-day activities, it is the village council that makes major decisions (of course through consensus) and implements it through the WUA. Fodder security is most important to sustain the livestock and dairy farming. Since dairy farming is an important income generating activity especially to Yadavas who are the dominant community, crop diversification has not taken place in spite of water scarcity. This tank is a classic example of how water conserved in different structures such as tanks, ponds and wells could be constructively used to raise a successful crop even in water scarce years, not only within the tank

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command but also in downstream tanks. The keys to its success are flexible rules and a good local management institution.

Factors Contributing to Sustainable Functioning of the Organization The Yadhavas are numerically stronger and this caste homogeneity is the major factor in sustainability. As agriculture is the main livelihood for the villagers and as the Aralikottai tank supports 80 % of the total irrigated lands in the village, there is a greater realization that the tank is the mainstay of their livelihood. To keep the tank in good condition, the management has to be sustained; and there is a clear understanding of this duty among the people of the village. Decisions are made by the village council that looks after the interest of all communities; the flexible and consensual approach in decision making also helps in sustaining the organizational framework for irrigation management.

Conclusion Over the years, generally the area under tank irrigation is declining due to the poor inflow of water to the tanks. This is a consequence of long periods of neglect of the tanks and the encroaching of tank lands, converting them to house-sites. The situation prevailing in Aralikottai is similar to the situation in other such villages in Tamil Nadu and maybe in the country as a whole. Thus, this study of the Aralikottai tank tells of the need for government intervention to retain the traditional practices of water management on modern lines. Therefore, the government should encourage village institutions, e. g., the water users’ association, by way of financial help and other forms of assistance. Finally, this study reinforces the return of the notion of place based citizen mobilization and initiative.

References Govindasamy and K Palanisamy, 1990, ‘Optimal Modernisation for a Tank Irrigation System Using a Simulation Model’, Indian Journal of Agricultural Economics, Vol. 45(2), April-June: 141-149. Narayanamoorthy, A. 2002, ‘Indian Irrigation: Five Decades of Development’, Journal of Water Resources, January-July: 1-15.

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Sharma, Prem N., 1998, ‘The Gathering Abundance of Bhanvata-Kolyala’, in Ripples of the Society: People’s Movements in Watershed Development in India, Gandhi Peace Foundation, New Delhi: 72-81. Sivasubramaniyan, K., 2000a, ‘Water Management Under Traditional Tank Irrigation’, Review of Development and Change, Vol. 5 (2), JulyDecember: 268-308. —. 2000b, ‘Impact of Irrigation on Cropping Intensity, Cropping Pattern and Productivity under tank Commands’, Artha Vijnana, Vol. 42 (4), December: 325-349. Venkatesh B. Athreya, Goran Djurfeldt and Staffan Lindberg, 1990, Barriers Broken; Production relations and Agrarian Change in Tamil Nadu, Sage Publications, New Delhi.



Notes

I acknowledge the financial support made possible by Dr. Sakthivadivel, International Water Management Institute, Sri Lanka, to conduct the research work. I also acknowledge Dr. P. Gomathinayagam, Rtd. Superintending Engineer (Designs) of PWD, Tamil Nadu and Dr. S. M. Suriya Kumar, Reader, Dept. of Economics, Urumu Dhanalakshmi Collge, Kattur, Tiruchirappalli for their invaluable help in preparing this essay.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN DEVELOPMENT INDUCED DISPARITY IN THE FRACTURED AGRARIAN ECONOMIC STRUCTURE OF INDIA: THE ROLE OF SOCIO-POLITICAL DETERMINANTS IN MAKING GLOBALIZATION PRODUCTIVE GOVIND DHASKE

Introduction Indian economic health has been at its best in terms of the positive outcome to the corporate sector (this essay was written before the financial collapse of September 2008-ed). The market driven growth model of India has been fuelled by the processes of economic globalization and the same has been the fundamental motivation for the domestic as well as global investors. The Sensex, being the only indicator of development portrayed by media and the dominant players in the Indian economy, has disguised many development priorities at the grassroots level. The rural hinterland has been negatively affected by the process of globalization in India. The proliferation of profit making forces across the world has provided a case for directing a closer look at the shortcomings of the economic globalization process. In the excitement to push through a rapid global integration, the process of exclusion through the fragmentation of employment, housing and social services has been strengthened (Efi – Solar Foundation, 2006). In his writings on the welfare economy, Amartya Sen has emphasized that economic growth per se does not ensure its benefits to trickle down to the masses unless the components of growth and its distributional aspects are simultaneously taken into consideration .

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Liberalization was a predictable step taken by India; this started her planned development with an industry focused approach. Though economic globalization is supposed to be a secular milestone in human civilization, it has shown an imbalanced picture with visible human development disparities across the globe, and this is even more visible on the domestic front especially in the developing world. The historic structural imbalance in the Indian sociopolitical scenario turned out to be a professional global system creating an oppressive impact on vulnerable sections which already suffer multiple socio economic disabilities. Large initial inequalities have a bearing over the growth of rapid exporting economies of the developing world. The same generates a complex scenario of global inequality in terms of trade expansion and other development indicators. The analysis of the human costs of globalization needs an in depth enquiry to analyze its impact on the situations of the poor, particularly in the developing world. The academia needs to maintain a rigorous vigilance on aggressive market forces. It is distressing that there still remains a paucity of studies on the impact of global trade on poverty in different contexts of vulnerability across the globe. India, being the largest democracy and one of the more influential nations in the continent, needs to be evaluated on human development parameters and equitable growth of all social groups residing in the country.

Globalization: What is going wrong? The interdependence of the economies of the developing and developed countries indicates grave development disparities across countries. Globalization is perceived as a threat by many social groups across developing nations. Apprehensions about globalization are not only linked with the economic aspect but are extended to the social, cultural and religious domains. The media overdrive has created a complex web of perceptions about the process of globalization among peoples. The interpretations are largely based on the domestic economic crises and the socio political challenges of developed and developing countries. There exists a clear intention of capitalizing on weaker social capital due to livelihood stress and an apathetic socio-political leadership. Viewing reality in terms of planning data reveals a global disparity. SouthEast Asia has the largest share of the world’s burden (29%), but only 12%

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of the health workforce and just over 1% of the financial resources (world health statistics, WHO, 2006). Largely perceived as an opportunity by various powerful sectors and peoples, India has shown a tremendous performance visible in the remarkable growth in the service sector and allied industries. The other gains expected from the process of globalization were access to market benefits for the poor, institutional growth and proper development arrangements, giving equitable benefits to all sections of the population regardless of class, caste, gender, but this has not happened and now India faces a hike in inflation, the likes of which have not been seen before. This failure can be analyzed by contextualizing the problem. India is a plural society with a nation-state differentiated federal structure and a constitutional democracy. The fire created by the debates between globaphiles and globaphobes keeps the issues of poverty limited to traditional domains of friction. Trade does not have any social mission as such; rather, profit making is the fundamental motive. The lack of integration of the microfinance mission with the macro economy makes it imperative to develop functionaries sensitive to the effects of globalization on the various social groups as well as to safeguard their security. The measure of financial integration is largely determined by the basic economic structure and the chosen development paths and also by the political choices or the influence of dominant pressure groups. A true financial integration should not be limited to financial openness but should also include the enforcement of regulations and laws which would make the domestic economy’s financial sector comparable to that of the leaders in the global financial community. The IMF and other global bodies have consistently recommended the maintenance of a macroeconomic stability; this is negative towards domestic economic equity, particularly of weaker social groups. This engenders an obsession with the market among planners, as if the Sensex is the ultimate growth indicator.

India: Disparity and Development Dynamics Gains from trade are dynamic and cumulative: they cannot be captured by a static snapshot (Oxfam, 2002). Being a country of multi religious and multi ethnic groups stratified in various geographical and cultural categories and livelihood systems based on the same, India needs to thoroughly review its policies in the context of rapid globalization. The

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asymmetry in the country is visible in many forms. The pattern of development disparity also throws up asymmetry. The most obvious asymmetry has been interstate disparity. Disparity based on demographic considerations, caste and gender shows significantly the level of development participation. Empirical evidence suggests that in terms of absolute poverty, the rate of decline in the extent of poverty has been faster for the others as compared to the Scheduled Castes (SC) and Scheduled Tribes (ST). They have yet to make the transformative leap. The UN Copenhagen Declaration describes poverty as ‘a condition characterized by severe deprivation of basic human needs, including food, safe drinking water, sanitation facilities, health, shelter, education and information’ [World Summit for Social Development Programme of Action - Chapter 2: Eradication of Poverty (Para 19)]. These trends are reflected in the composition of the rural poor, with poverty tending to get concentrated among the SCs and STs. The magnitude of social disparities in India is state-specific in nature. The social group hierarchy in India has remained virtually unchanged and scheduled castes and scheduled tribes remain concentrated in the bottom quintiles of the economy (Mutatkar, 2005). Poverty in developing countries is multidimensional. The approach to industrialization adopted by the Indian government furthered rural-urban disparity. Globalization with both focus and locus on urban based development models fuelled rural-urban migration. This has also increased the incidence of urban poverty. According to the 2001 Census, 72% of India’s population was rural and 28% urban. According to the International Food Policy Research Institute (IFPRI) that developed the GHI: in South Asia, only Bangladesh has worse levels of hunger than India, based on three parameters to measure a country’s food supply situation viz. child malnutrition, child mortality and estimates of the proportion of people who are calorie-deficient. Recent estimates show that the incidence of chronic poverty in India would be about 13-15 %, constituting half of the poor (Radhakrishna et al 2004). The sectoral imbalances have proved to be a barrier to making the most out of globalization. These accelerate further the asymmetry in the country. For indigenous peoples, poverty is closely linked with discrimination and the loss of control over their traditional lands and natural resources; therefore, programmes to alleviate poverty among these

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groups must be designed not only to facilitate social protection and social integration but also to address land and resource issues (UN 2005). Political choices are the foundational forces of the economies and they determine the extent of gains and losses due to globalization. The political factor is very active in India due to the multiparty system in India’s democratic polity. The political unrest in inter state development disparity has created a non conducive scenario for growth in harmony with national plans. The non-reforming states, if not integrated into the process of economic reforms immediately, have to face the dire consequences of socio-economic unrest in the near future.

Agrarian to Industrial Economy: A Conflictual Paradigmatic Shift India changed its gears sometime in the beginning of the 1980s and later transformed into an aggressive economy of ‘make maximum gains’ out of globalization through the process of the liberalization of the economy. Primarily an agrarian economy, India has not been able to bear the shock of the budgetary reduction for agriculture and allied sectors. While aiming at a 10% growth rate, its growth nonetheless has been oscillating between 7 % and 8%. Despite these historic achievements, negligence towards agriculture stigmatizes the one track development of the Indian development pathway. The investment in rural development in India has now been reduced to 5.9% of the GDP in the 10th Plan, though the population dependent on agriculture is 73%, residing primarily in rural habitats. It has been estimated that 60–70% of the GDP from agriculture is contributed through subsistence agriculture. There is a decline in investment in agriculture in terms of % of the GDP from 1.6 in 1993-93 to 1.3 in 2000-01.As per the 2001 census 58 % of total workers are still dependent on agriculture either as cultivators or agricultural laborers. A detailed analysis of the development of industry at the state level in India also indicates that infrastructural development is particularly necessary for the development of both registered and unregistered manufacturing. There are also two other indications with interesting policy implications. One is the already accepted finding that agricultural development is beneficial for the development of unregistered manufacturing at the regional level. The other is the hint here that measures to reduce poverty in a region do not always go against the

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objective of improving the relative position of a region in terms of its per capita net domestic product (Nair 2004).

Key Factors: Employment, Shelter and Livelihood In this context, to avoid the economic and social exclusion of certain groups, there is a need to address employment and livelihoods issues along with the desire to achieve higher growth rates. There is also a need to identify the sectors in the economy exhibiting potential for growth, assess the skill-sets required thereof, the skill base of the existing workforce, as well as the steps that can be taken to broaden livelihood options for the masses (TISS, 2006). Despite having 55% of the self employed population, the rate of unemployment in India is 7.2%. The same has reduced the security of the people forming the lower strata of the workforce. Amongst rural women workers, 87 % are employed in agriculture as laborers and cultivators, while amongst women workers in the urban areas, about 80 % are employed in unorganized sectors such as household industries, petty trades and services, construction, etc. Diversification in agriculture and allied livelihood systems and increase in non-farm employment is necessary for addressing agrarian distress in India. The diversification of agriculture over the years has further accentuated the need for a rapid development of rural infrastructure and a larger flow of credit to the farming community (Shivamaggi, 2000). This brings the various credit delivery related institutional and policy issues into the larger Indian context. The low absorption of labor in the organized sectors is argued to be due to inappropriate technology choice or product composition. In most of the modern industries it has been found that there has been a rise in capital intensity with a substantial decline in capital productivity, indicating a mere substitution of capital for labor with minimal technological up gradation (Rani & Unni, 2004). Globalization has created a production culture which in turn has created a distressed scenario. This clearly signifies the need of a legal system to regulate certain corporate and political activities to maintain the maximum welfare standard of the population. Shelter is the fundamental determinant of the quality of living. The Integrated Household Survey (2003) indicates that there is a widespread housing poverty throughout the country, that is, the majority of the population lack safe, secure and healthy shelter with some basic

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infrastructure such as piped water and an adequate provision for sanitation and the removal of household wastes. The proper construction of housing contributes to improved health. Moreover, shelter provides a physical space for a range of income creating activities especially within slum areas. More generally, shelter acts as an effective catalyst for the mobilization of household savings thus encouraging the growth of the financial sector and the economy at large (N. Jai, Munna, 2004).

Issues and Remedial Direction: Livelihoods and Employability Sastry et al (2003) analyzed the sectoral linkages between agriculture, industry and services in the Indian economy. The study emphasized the role of agriculture through its demand linkages with other sectors in determining the over-all growth of the economy. The self reliance of the local economy in a diverse country like India, with tremendous biodiversity and traditional knowledge based livelihood systems, needs a specific focus with localization. Dumping technology in the name of globalization has been breaking knowledge transmission to future generations. Though globalization has been portrayed as an organic course in the new age there is suspicion as knowledge produced in the non formal sciences has not been integrated into the policy process. This indifferent planning raises questions as to sustainability in the emerging development paradigm propagated by dominant societies. Globalization is proving detrimental to natural resources and livelihood systems based on traditional knowledge. Negotiating a socially and culturally diverse market is a challenge in India. Hence the best route to creating sustainable livelihoods is through the creation of opportunities, for instance participation in local economic activities (WBCSD 2004). Employability through public private partnership will be a feasible approach. The shortage of skilled manpower in particular sectors has been a problem seen in the globalizing world. This signifies the limitations of globalization in integrating the traditional skilled labor force in the emerging value chains. The changing demand for the kind of skills required by industry cannot be met by the existing population. Rather there is a need of designing livelihood activities and production systems by capitalizing the skills of rural and unskilled people. Similarly attention requires to be given to vocational training and the provision of compulsory education. Trade related technical capacity building in countries through transnational trade should develop

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affirmative action. This could be a positive force among the more reliable labor force in India which has hardly received any incentives for their contribution to industrial growth. Lack of systems and institutions providing labor information in the country creates paucity in the information required for planning. There is a need for creating this.

Migration The security and human rights of the global migrants is an essential factor. The report of the global commission on international migration, in one of its principles of action, mentioned that the role that migrants play in promoting development and poverty reduction in countries of origin, as well as the contribution they make towards the prosperity of destination countries, should be recognized and reinforced. International migration should become an integral part of national, regional and global strategies for economic growth, in both the developing and developed world. So far there has been no concrete action by the developing world in terms of integrating the expertise of the intellectual labor force from developing nations which is mobile across the globe. India is well known for the production of trained intellectual laborers and she could have utilized this benefit tremendously to scale up her capacities to maximize the globalization boom. This clearly signifies the lack of vision in both knowledge production and the dissemination systems in formal institutional arrangements for growth oriented planning. The case becomes severe when we come across the variations in patterns of growth-decline in sectors like agriculture across the globe, including the developed countries. There has not been any integration of such experienced and knowledge based findings in India’s planning process. Making the mobile labor force a major planning partner and developing fora and platforms for knowledge sharing will definitely create sustainable systems as the sphere of knowledge support will be global.

Sociopolitical Scenario for Equitable Development Given the structural limitations of markets in developing countries, successful development requires critical governance capacities of states to accelerate accumulation (in both the private and public sectors) and ensure productivity growth (again in both sectors, see Khan 2006). Development requires a stable socio-political scenario with consistency, vision and stability. Democracy should be transparent and participatory. Globalization can be utilized productively with this tool and this will develop a global

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citizenship; as the backbone of global democracy. NGOs should have a global polity approach in advocacy actions to create a just and equitable global society.

Urban right for Rural Right: An inclusive city is a political effort that ensures access to adequate and secure habitats, livelihoods and basic services not only for its local populace, but also for migrants from the countryside that will continue to flow in for years to come (Efi – Solar Foundation, 2006). There should be policy stipulations encouraging positive migration with proper choices offered through an institutional structure to reduce stressful migrations to urban areas due to livelihood destruction in the rural hinterland. Considering the rural urban linkages in India it is essential to have a balance between rural and urban development to avoid further imbalances due to globalization. For the positive growth of a nation like India we need more attention towards rural development for self reliance and domestic security.

The Way Ahead: Change Oriented Approaches Positive steps for economic growth need provisions for human development. The state should have a concrete role in regulating actions that create economic imbalances. Social and food security being the predominant and immediate concern of the weaker social sections, growth processes should not bypass these priorities. The urban knowledge poverty about the integrated rural livelihood system based on natural resources and farming needs to be removed with participatory development planning. The visibly negative impact of sectoral imbalances in planning and disparity among the various population groups needs to be controlled with an equity and participatory approach in the economic model, for denizens to become true and active citizens.

References Datta, R.C. et al. 2006, Livelihoods, Employment & Sustainable Development: An Initiative towards Improving Skills & Employability of People, Research sponsored by CII, Western Region. EFI – Solar Foundation Mumbai, employment generation in post globalisation era in greater Mumbai June 2006.

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Khan, Mushtaq H., 2006, ‘Governance, Economic Growth and Development since the 1960s’, Background paper for World Economic and Social Survey, 2006. Mutatkar, Rohit, ‘Social Group Disparities and Poverty in India’, Indira Gandhi Institute of Development Research, Working Paper Series No. WP-2005-004. Nair, Dr. K.R.G., 2004, ‘Economic Reforms And Regional Disparities In Economic And Social Development In India’, Report of a Research Project funded by the SER Division of the Planning Commission of the Government of India. Njai, I. S. S. and Mr. J.L.K. Munna, 2004, final report submitted to the poverty alleviation strategy coordinating office on the housing sector review study. OXFAM, 2002, ‘rigged rules and double standards trade globalization and fight against poverty make trade fair Oxfam’. World Summit for Social Development Programme of Action - Chapter 2: Eradication of Poverty (Para 19). Radhakrishna, R , K.H. Rao, C. Ravi and B.S. Reddy, 2004, ‘Chronic Poverty and Malnutrition in India’. Working Paper 11, CPRC-IIPA, New Delhi. Report of The Global Commission on International Migration (2005), Migration in an interconnected world: New directions for action, UN. Sastry, D.V.S. et.al. 2003, ‘Sectoral Linkages and Growth Prospects: Reflections on the Indian Economy’. Economic and Political Weekly, June 14: 2390-97. Shivamaggi, H.B. 2000, ‘Reforms in Rural Banking: Need for Bolder approach’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. XXXV, No. 20: 17141718. UN General Assembly, Report on the World Social Situation, 2005. Unni, R. and J. Unni, 2004, ‘Unorganized and Organised Manufacturing in India: Potential for Employment Generating Growth’, Economic and Political Weekly, October 9: 4568 -4580. World Business Council for Sustainable Development, Regional perspectives on ‘Sustainable Livelihoods & Business’, Notes from Regional Dialogues in Argentina, Brazil, Costa Rica, India and South Africa. World Health Statistics 2006, WHO. www.ifpri.org

CHAPTER FIFTEEN HEALTH SEEKING BEHAVIOR IN AN AGRARIAN COMMUNITY: A CASE STUDY OF RURAL BANGLADESH KIBRIA, ASHIQ MAHMUD BIN GOLAM AND SYED AJIJUR RAHMAN

Introduction The indigenous health care system is an important and essential part of the health sector in rural Bangladesh. Rural people have knowledge about this system and they depend on it for various reasons, such as the socioeconomic situation, cultural aspects as well as the lack of modern health care facilities. In Bangladesh, the indigenous health care system has never been studied in a broader perspective over the ages. Generation to generation this knowledge had been learnt or adopted from predecessors. This system had never been approached in a scientific way and no potential research work has been carried out yet. This knowledge is embedded in community practices, institutions, relationships and rituals. Almost 80% of the people in developing countries depend on Traditional Medicine (TM) because access to western health care services is limited due to its cost and they also depend on TM by way of greater cultural acceptance. TM is broadly used in such countries, often being the only affordable treatment available to poor people and to those in remote communities. Now TM also plays an important role in developed countries, where the demand for ‘Herbal Medicines’ is growing. (WHO 1990: 39) Ayurveda and Unani1 are the unique health care systems that are practiced by generations in Bangladesh through different medicinal and aromatic plants for treatment. Large portions of rural people in Bangladesh depend on

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local physicians called ‘Kabiraj’2 for the treatment of several kinds of diseases, not only because of the lack of modern health care facilities; but also due to their belief on the effectiveness of local medicinal plants. The oldest Ayurveda companies of Bangladesh are AP, Shakti Oushadhalaya and Shadhona Oushadhalaya. They provide several types of indigenous treatments in cases of asthma, high blood pressure, cough, constipation, cholera, diabetes, eye weaknesses, intestinal diseases, digestion problems, viral hepatitis, liver disease, measles, pox, rheumatism, tuberculosis, ulcers etc in Bangladesh. Researchers also proved that rural people of Bangladesh always take the healing process into their own hands. For example, Choudhury (Choudhury et. al., 1996: 21) argue that rural people traditionally and systematically use 42 types of remedy to prevent diarrhea and dysentery. So indigenous medicine plays an important role in the health care system of Bangladesh.

Materials and Methods The study area was in Kishorpur village, which is situated in Durgapur Upazila (upazila is a small administrative unit), northwest from Rajshahi, a divisional city of northern Bangladesh. The study area is situated 9 km west from Durgapur Upazila. The total area of this village is 5. 20 square kilometers and the total population is 1, 894 where the total household is 457. This is an anthropological study, so the participant observation method is used to conduct the research. Structured interviews of 90 households, 4 case studies and 6 focus groups (FGD) were also used to collect data. Other data was gathered by way of interviews with key informants. The secondary data was obtained from the local administration and various related sources. During the field work some anthropological ethics was followed by the researchers e.g., attempts to maintain privacy, anonymity and confidentiality. Researchers couldn’t force the villagers to change their minds about their health care system though in some cases they were proved wrong.

Medication System in the Study Site There is no M.B.B.S. doctor in the research site. People have to depend on the mid-wives, bone-setters, kabiraj, shaman (ojha), homeopathy doctors,

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and at times self medication. The villagers who wanted to take the allopathic treatment had to go to Upazila health complex in Durgapur or to the sub center of the health complex in Deluabari Union. But the upazila health complex provides modern health care facilities to the villagers. It is unfortunately true that the doctors who work there do not do their job properly. There is lack of modern medical equipments, which also does not result in proper treatment to the villagers. So it is found that in case of major health problems or any major operation villagers go to the Rajshahi Medical Collage Hospital. There are mainly the following types of medication on which they rely on the basis of availability; these are: Folk Medicine This consists of local healers, such as herbalists, bone-setters, spiritual healers, diviners and traditional birth attendants. Folk medicine mainly refers to the indigenous knowledge systems of medical treatment, especially what we call kabiraji in Bengali. At present, there are only three ‘kabiraj’ (practitioneers of the kabiraji system) named Omar Ali (69), Abdul Haque (56) known as ‘Abu Kabiraj’ and Ibrahim (51) in the research area. Homeopathy This is a different kind of medication system. It is also common among the villagers because there is a Homeopathy doctor in the village. Homeopathy is a 200 year old system of medicine that uses pills or medicinal drops made from the diluted extracts of herbs and other substances. Developed by the German physician Samuel Heinemann, homeopathy is based on two main principles. The first states that a substance that can cause certain symptoms when given to a healthy person can cure those same symptoms in someone who is sick. The second states that, contrary to teachings of modern chemistry and physics, the more a substance is diluted, the more potent it becomes. Proponents of homeopathy claim there remains a so-called molecular memory of the original substance. Critics say water molecules vibrate and change constantly, so that impressions made by a substance previously dissolved in them are quickly lost. Allopathy This is the modern treatment system. For allopathic treatment, villagers mainly depend on the Upazila Health Complex in Durgapur and its sub station in the Deluabari union. Villagers have to travel three or four kilometers to get it.

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The Popular Kabiraji System Researchers have seen various kinds of health care systems in the study area described above but the majority of the people depend on kabiraji treatment (Table 1) because historically this is the most successful treatment system in the study area. At present, many kinds of treatment systems are available. But kabiraji seems to be the most popular treatment system in place. Researchers have identified the following causes in choosing kabiraji treatment. 1. Most of all the inhabitants of the study area are poor and that is why kabiraji is the most cost effective health system. 2. Local people have deep faith in this treatment because of its success story. 3. Most of them are illiterate and believe that the bio-medical system is very complicated. 4. The villagers have misconceptions about other health treatments. They think that kabiraji is the only powerful treatment. 5. They believe that other health care treatments can cause serious side effects and that these would end up by creating another disease. 6. They think that most diseases are natural and that the disease can be cured by natural medicine. Table1. Health seeking behaviour in the interviewed population (%) Health seeking behaviour Allopathic Homeopathic Kabiraji Ayurvedic Self medication Total

Male 17.93 15.50 44.09 18.23 4.25 100

Female 10.92 13.57 46.05 22.18 7.28 100

Total 28.85 29.07 90.14 40.41 11.53 200

Medicinal Plants and their Uses in Kabiraji System Our research data indicates that 90.14% of the respondents depend on the kabiraji system where various kinds of medicinal plants are used for treatment. Plant remedies are prepared from various parts of plants such as roots, bark, leaves, flowers and fruits. These are taken either in fresh or dried form and are applied both internally and externally. Some plants are also cooked and served with meals, and pastes are prepared from diverse plant

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parts for external use. For example, kalakacheu is used for body pain, arthritis, and gastric pains, but it is also applied for cataracts. For arthritis and body pain, this plant is either consumed in a cooked or raw spinach form and sometimes it is taken orally as a liquid plant juice. For gastric pains, the plant juice is taken orally but in the case of cataract, the juice is used as an eye drop. Turmeric is a common item in cooking used for many purposes. Turmeric paste is applied externally for skin infections. Ginger is taken by the people for pharyngitis. The juice from tulshi (basil) leaves mixed with honey is a good medicine for chronic coughs. The indigenous medicinal plants commonly used for kabiraji treatment in the major tropical diseases at the study site, are summarized as follows: Table No-2: Indigenous Medicinal Plants, their use and local names No.

Disease

Scientific name of the plant

Local name

1. 2.

Loss of Appetite Arthritis

Amomum aromaticum Piper sylvanticum Anthocephalus chinensis

3.

Asthma

4.

Blood pressure problems

5.

Bronchitis

6.

Coughs and Colds

Acalypha indica Adhatoda vasica Datura metel Terminalia arjuna Vitex negundo Allium sativum Maringa aliefera Nymphaea nouchal Rawoulfia serpentina Terminalia arjuna Terminalia chebula Acalypha indica Adhatoda vasica Adhatoda vasica Calotropis procera Jasminum auriculatum Maringa aliefera Ocimum sanctum Phyllanthus sp. Vitex negundo

Elachi Pipul Kadam Telakucha Muktajhuri Basak Kalo dhutra Ariun Nishinda Rashun Shajna Lal shapla Sharpogandha Arjun Horitaki Muktajhuri Basak Basak Akanda Jasmin Shajna Tulshi Bahupatra Nishinda

Portion used as medicine Leaf Leaf Leaf Leaf Bark Leaf Leaf Fruit Bark Bulb Leaf Flower Root Bark Fruit Bark Leaf Leaf Leaf Leaf Leaf Leaf Leaf Leaf

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Withania somniferum Zingiber officinale Aegle marmelos Artocarpus heterophyllus Carica papaya Mimosa pudica Terminalia chebula Aegle marmelos Alstonia scholaris Andrographis paniculata Emblica officinalis Terminalia belerica Terminalia chebula Asparagus racemosus Cajanus cajan Catharanthus roseus Emblica officinalis Syzygium cumini

Ashwagondha Ada Bel Kathal Papaya Lajjabati Haritaki Bel Chhatim Kalomegh Amla Baehra Horitaki Shatamuli Arhar Nayantara Amla Kalo jam

Trigonella foenumgraecum Aegle marmelos Allium sativum Alstonia scholaris Andrographis paniculata Centella asiatica Holarrhena antidysentrica Psidium guajava Scoparia dulcies Stereosperonum chelonioides Terminalia arjuna Zingiber officinale

Methi Bel Rashun Chhatim Sapphire Berry Thankuni Kurchi Peyara Misri dana Kamranga Arjun Ada

7.

Constipation

8.

Diarrhea

9.

Diabetes

10.

Dysentery

11.

Eczema and skin diseases

Acalypha indica Achyranthes aspera Azadirachta indica Cullen corylifolia Curcuma longa Hydnocarpus kurzii Lawsonia inermis Ocimum sanctum

Mukta borry Apang Neem Babchi Holud Chalmoogra Mehedi Tulshi

12.

Eye Diseases

13.

Fever

Curcuma longa Embica officinalis Terminalia belerica Terminalia chebula Alstonia scholaris

Holud Amla Baehra Horitaki Chhatim

Root Rhizome Fruit Fruit Fruit Root Fruit Fruit Bark & leaf Leaf Fruit Fruit Fruit Root Leaf Leaf Leaf Fruit, seed, leaf & bark Fruit Fruit Bulb Leaf & bark Leaf Leaf Bark Tender leaf Leaf Fruit Bark Rhizome Leaf Leaf Leaf Seed Rhizome Seed Leaf & bark Leaf Rhizome Fruit Fruit Fruit Leaf &

Health Seeking Behavior in an Agrarian Community Amomum aromaticum Andrographis paniculata Azadirachta indica Jasminum auriculatum Zingiber officinale 14. 15.

16.

Helminthiasis Ananus sativus Andrographis paniculata Melia azadirachta Indigestion Carica papaya Emblica officinalis Kalanchae spatulate Piper nigrum Terminalia chebula Jaundice Cajanus cajan Carica papaya

17. 18.

Liquirria Liver diseases

19.

Measles

20. 21. 22.

Piles Pneumonia Pox

23.

Rheumatism

24.

Stomach Pain

25.

Tuberculosis

26.

Ulcer

Elachi Kalomegh Neem Jui Ada Anarash Sapphire Berry Neem Papaya Amla Himshagar Gol morich Haritaki Arhar Papaya

Hydrocotyl asiatica Melia azadirachta Saccharum officinalis

Gotu kola Neem Akh

Saccharum officinalis Andrographis paniculata Carica papaya Cascuta sp. Curcuma longa Ocimum sanctum Achyranthes aspera Adhatoda vasica Adhatoda vasica Datura fastusa Melia azadirachta Momordica charantia Tamarindus indicus Allium sativum Datura metel Nicotina tobacum Vitex negundo Eugenia jambolana Glucyrrhiza hlabra Scoparia dulecies Allium sativum Elaeocarpus ganitrus Allium sativum Centella asiatica

Akh Kalomegh Papaya Sharnalata Holud Tulshi Apang Basak Basak Dhutura Neem Korola Arjun Rashun Kalo dhutura Yamak Nishinda Jam Mishti modhu Misri dana Rashun Rashun Neem

233 bark Leaf Leaf Leaf Leaf Rhizome Fruit Whole plant Leaf Fruit Fruit Leaf Fruit Fruit Leaf Milky juice of green papaya Leaf Leaf Juice Root Leaf Latex Whole plant Rhizome Leaf Leaf Leaf Leaf for external use Bulb Leaf Leaf Leaf Bark Leaf Leaf Bulb Fruit Bulb Leaf

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27.

Wounds

Cynodon dactylon Areca catechu Azadirachta indica Citrus aurantifolia Eupatorium triplinerve Saraca asoca Tagetes patula

Thankuni Betel nut Durba Lebu Ayapan Ashoke Ganda

Leaf Leaf Leaf Root Leaf Leaf Leaf

Major Health Problems and their Causation Villagers do not only believe that all the diseases are related to natural causes, they also believe that they are sometimes related to super natural causes. The major health problems among the villagers are tetanus, polio, migraine, jaundice, pneumonia, tuberculosis; miscarriages, stillbirth, bone fractures, snake bites and certain kinds of female diseases etc. The villagers believe that there are three reasons for these types of health problems. These are as follows: x Natural causes x Supernatural causes x Personal Responsibility In the study area natural and super natural causes are common, but the researchers did not find any one who believed in sorcery in causing any health problems. On the contrary, the researchers found several respondents who believed that some health hazards were causes for erratic personal behaviour.

Natural Causes The villagers do not bother about the super natural causes but accept it naturally in cases of hepatitis, pneumonia, tuberculosis, asthma, and pox. In point of fact, it was found that when the villagers were able to explain the original reasons for the disease, they grouped such diseases into natural diseases. Earlier the villagers believed that diarrhea occurred only for supernatural reasons. Due to the increase in mass awareness now the villagers believe that the diarrhea is caused not due to supernatural power but by way of dirty environment or polluted water. In case of such kind of diseases villagers like to go to homeopathy doctors and in serious cases they take allopathic treatments. But before taking any

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kind of treatment they discuss with their relatives, friends or the person who previously had the illness and underwent the cure.

Supernatural Causes Researchers also found, if the disease persisted and did not yield to the usual treatment, people became more prone to think about supernatural or divine causes. According to this field research there are some diseases which the villagers believe are caused by supernatural powers. In such cases villagers always depend on the folk medicine man or shaman (ojha, kabiraj, moulana).

Personal Responsibility Villagers think that if they are careful about their movement in certain health hazards such as bone fracture, and snakebite they can avoid such problems, for e.g., they think that insufficient food intake is responsible in the case of bone fracture, and that they should be careful in these matters. In this discussion it is clear that the disease causation in ethno medicine is characterized by dualism. One is due to natural causes and the other is due to supernatural causes. The villagers also believe in supernatural powers in some female health problems such as miscarriages, stillbirth, abortion, and eclampsia. So they maintain some restrictions in order to avoid such health problems; these are: not to move bareheaded, not to move in public, not to swim against the current, not to walk under the banyans tree, and not to eat during the an eclipse.

Success and Failure of the Indigenous Health Care System The faith in a particular health treatment depends on its historical success. So in any place the popular treatment must be historically defined according to its heritage and success rate. In the study area the indigenous health care system is the most popular, and everyone applauded the story of success of the indigenous health care system. Some case studies are given below.

Case Study – 1 Modhu was a ten year old boy who broke down his hand by falling from a coconut tree. His hand was wrapped and settled with two pieces of wood. The researchers saw this and asked the boy what was wrong with his hand.

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He answered it was done by the kabiraj to settle his bone. The boy and his family had strong belief in kabiraji. At the end of the research period the researchers found that the boy’s hand was fully repaired. We can describe this as a success story of the indigenous health care system. The researchers observed many such success stories of the indigenous health care system in the study area. But the indigenous health care system cannot be successful in prevention all the time and sometimes fails.

Case study – 2 The Extended Programme on Immunization (EPI) is a government health programme of Bangladesh. It provides a vaccine against six diseases to protect the infant. But the government often cannot continue these vaccines because of their parent’s faith in the indigenous health care system, but the indigenous health care system often fails and a large number of children are dying each year. These diseases are: diphtheria, T.B., tetanus, polio, whooping cough and measles. These can be prevented by the modern medical system.

Case Study – 3 Latifa is now a woman of 55. She was critically ill when she gave birth. She was under observation of the village midwife, as village women mostly depend on the midwife in the delivery period. The midwife was not formally trained. In order to overcome the situation, Latifa took the help of the modern medical system. After this failure of traditional medical practices villagers become concerned and started to respond to modern medical facilities. But in some cases it is also found that the villager went back from the modern medical system to folk medicine.

Case Study – 4 Manik is a share copper, aged 44 years. He has nine family members. His earning is not enough for proper treatment to his entire family. He had tuberculosis. In such cases villagers normally take folk or homeopathy treatment at first. But when these fail and the disease becomes acute they take the help of modern medical care, and Manik was no exception. But as he had no money he turned to folk treatment again in his village.

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Actually, when doctors decide in favour of surgery villagers get back from the modern to the folk medical system. Also, they think that surgery is against their religion, especially when a male doctor supervises a female patient. It is the same in using family planning methods. Actually the villagers’ response to modern medicine matches to their traditional beliefs.

Shift from Folk to Modern Medical Practices: In this study, it was found that due to modernization people want to shift to a modern health care system. But it is not possible for all the villagers to get modern health care benefits equally, because educational background, economic conditions, religious and supernatural beliefs sometimes create a barrier to response to modern medical facilities (case study 4). Despite these difficulties, if the disease becomes critical, and not adequately managed by folk medicine, they respond to the modern medical system.

Discussion The anthropologist Young presented a model for the choice of health treatment based on rural Mexico in 1981 named ‘Model of Young’. This model can provide a unique dimension for the initial choice of treatment. According to Young, health-seeking behavior depends on some variables such as the gravity of illness, accessibility of different health systems and the faith of the inhabitant of a particular area. (Young 1981: 97) In this study, many similarities were found depending on this model. Most of the people’s faith was in folk and native treatment in the study site, although there were other options available; generally, they chose according to their beliefs, desire and ability. As in Young’s model, people’s choice of treatment often changed depending on the seriousness of illness, and also their economic situation and accessibility to different health care systems (communication and transportation). These play a vital role in the health seeking behavior of the study area. Islam classifies three types of disease causation i.e., natural causes, supernatural causes and human category (sorcery) (Islam 1985: 65). Ackerknecht observed that primitive people use natural explanations to explain illnesses that are non-problematic, highly visible and very common. He said, ‘In a great number of primitive tribes not all diseases are interpreted in a supernatural manner, some are regarded as due to natural causes, such as colds, toothache, malaria, etc, those resulting from old age. (Ackerknecht 1971: 71). Ackerknecht not only said this about the natural causes but also

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focused on the native’s supernatural beliefs about the disease causations. He said, ‘The same disease might be naturally or supernaturally caused, and a natural disease may be treated supernaturally or vice versa. (Ackerknecht 1971: 72). In this research, similar results were found focusing on supernatural causes, if the disease persisted and did not yield to the usual treatment, suspicion grew and it was usual for the person afflicted and his relatives to think about supernatural or divine causes. According to this field research there were some diseases which the villagers believed were caused by supernatural power. It was also found that educational background, economic condition, and religious and supernatural beliefs sometimes create barriers and difficulties in response to modern medical facilities, and response to modern medical facilities varies among the villagers. This result is similar to those found in Sherupur, a North Indian village, where Gould (1957) did his seven month field research. He found that the upper four castes depended on ‘Doctor Medicine’ more than lower four castes. The reason mainly was that the upper castes of Sherupur were more educated and economically stronger then the lower castes. He also found that the lower caste people of Sherupur worshipped the Goddess Sitla to protect themselves from health hazards. Medicinal plants play an important role in the local health care system of the rural people. Some studies have been done recently following the renewed importance of herbal medicines in Bangladesh like elsewhere in the world. Rashid (Rashid et. al. 1989: 36) conducted a market survey on herbal drugs in Bangladesh to ascertain the amount of various crude drugs used by different farms and individuals. The current values of the different crude drugs have also been ascertained along with their problems and prospects. The nursery technique developed for propagation of popular herbal plants by the Bangladesh Forest Research Institute (BFRI) has also been documented by Rashid (Rashid et. al. 1990: 16). For large-scale commercial plantation of medicinal plants, we need to have adequate knowledge about their growth cycle. Such work has also been accomplished by Ara (Ara et. al., 1990: 22). A manual has been developed by the WHO to provide information to the least literate villagers in South East Asian Countries about their herbal wealth. This manual intends to keep health workers informed of the therapeutic utility of the flora growing adjacent to our homesteads and villages (WHO, 1990: 79). Chowdhury (1996) documented 42 folk formulae, which had long been used against dysentery and diarrhea in Bangladesh (Chowdhury 1996: 34). Another study by Alam also

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documented 143 fold formulae against 53 common diseases from Bangladesh. (Alam 1996: 35) Alam reports on the medical ethno botany of the Marma tribe of Bangladesh along with their modus operandi. (Alam 1992: 53)

Conclusion It is not always true that indigenous medical care is accurate. Several times it creates health vulnerability. But, the response to modern medical facilities is hesitant, because people do not have the proper information on it. So, modern medical treatment and the indigenous health care system are going parallelly in the study area. And it is just the gravity of illness, which makes the villagers shift their choice from indigenous treatment to modern medical treatment. But some other factors i.e., age, sex, education, occupation and moreover the accessibility of care play a major part in their daily lives as also being involved with their health seeking behavior. We know that indigenous knowledge is socially and culturally embedded, that it is context dependent, and it is dynamic. Nowadays, the beliefs of the villagers are changing and they are becoming more concerned than before with modernization. So definitely they are in a transitional period.

References Ackerknecht, E. H., 1971, Medicine and Ethnology: Selected Essays, Johns Hopkins University Press, Baltimore. Akabogu, E., 2002, ‘Indigenous Knowledge Systems, Integrity of the Commons and Emerging Regimes of Intellectual Property Rights in a Globalising World’. Paper presented in The 9th Biennial Conference of the IASCP, 17-21 June, Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe. Alam, M. K., 1992, ‘Ethnomedicobotany of the Marma Tribe of Bangladesh’. Economic Botany, 46 (3). Alam, K. M., J. U. Chowdhury, and M. A. Hasan, 1996, ‘Some Folk Formularies from Bangladesh’. Bangladesh Journal of Life Science, 81 (1). Ara, R., M. Mohiuddin, M. K. Alam and M. H. Rashid, 1990, Bangladesher Oushhadhio Gach Gachar Ful O Faler Dinpanji (in Bengali). Chittagong: NTFP Series-3, Bangladesh Forest Research Institute. Chowdhury, J. U., M. K. Alam, and M. A. Hassan, 1996, ‘Some Traditional Folk Formularies against Dysentery and Diarrhea in Bangladesh’. Journal of Econ. Tax. Bot.

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Gould, Harold A., 1957, The Implication of Technological Change for Folk and Scientific Medicine, Washington University, (American University, Vol. 59), St. Louis. Helman, C. G., 1990, Culture, Health and Illness, London. Islam, Mahmuda, 1985, Women, health and culture, Dhaka. Kleinman, Arthur, 1980, Patients and Healers in the Context of Culture, University of California, Berkeley. McElroy Ann and Patricia K. Townsend. 1985, Medical Anthropology in Ecological Perspective, Frederick A. Praeger, Colorado. Pilsbury, B., 1982, ‘Policy and Evaluation Perspectives on Traditional Health Practicioners in National Health System’, Social Science and Medicine 16 (21), Dhaka Rashed, M. H., J. M. Alam, R. Ara, and M. Mohiuddin, 1989, Market Survey on Herbal Drugs in Bangladesh. Unpublished Manuscript, Chittagong: Bangladesh Forest Research Institute. WHO, 1990, ‘A Manual for Health Workers in South-East Asia’, SEARO Regional Health Paper No. 19. Young, J. C., 1981. Medical Choice in a Mexican Village, New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press.

Acknowledgements We thank the villagers at the study site where the research was undertaken, who shared their precious time, thought and concerns, and even their scarce meals with us. Special thanks to the respondents’ family for their hospitality and friendship, and most of all their help and support. We also appreciate Dr. Md. Gholam Kibria and Dr. Mustafa Kamal Akands’ valuable advice and guidance.



Notes 1 Ayurveda and Unani medication system use chemicals with natural herbs to produce medicine. They do not use raw ingredients as medicine. It is a certified medication system and comparatively new in usage. 2 Who use raw natural extract for medicine and medication system. This is one of the oldest medication systems but is not certified.

PART V: MARGINALITY

CHAPTER SIXTEEN THE MAKADWALE COMMUNITY IN KOLHAPUR: TRIBES AND CITIZENSHIP R.B.PATIL

1. The Historical Background of Denotified and Nomadic Tribes in Maharashtra In the gavagada system (self sustained village system, see Jayant Gadkari, 1996, Society and Religion: From Rigveda to Puranas, South Asia Books – ed.), of Maharashtra the scheduled castes had some place under the jajamani system. But the wandering tribes had none. They did not have a permanent village, and therefore neither land nor permanent homes. Some tribes pursued the arts whereas others had none, and most resorted to stealing and robbing. So these were considered as criminal tribes. The Ramoshi, Koli and Kaikadi tribes took part in the 1857 revolt and so the British, by considering them as criminals, planned to control their activities. The Phaseparadhi, Koravi, Kunchi-Koravi, Vaddar, Dombari, Gosavi, Rajaput Bhamata were the main criminal tribes. The British Govt. created settlements for them. They could not leave the settlement without Govt. permission. The people had to report thrice in Gaon Chavadi (village HQed). If the community was to move from one place to another, the permission from the Gaon Kamagar Patil-Kulkarni (village headman-ed) was essential. In these circumstances, the Patil used to send the Kotwal (law and order maintenance official-ed) along with them. The Kotwal used to list the belongings of every family and hand it over to the Kotwal of the next village where they were going. In 1871, the Criminal Tribes Act was passed for scheduling the offender groups and it was extended to the whole of India. In 1908 the Criminal Tribes Settlement Act was implemented to improve the conditions of these castes and tribes. Under the Bombay Primary Education Act of 1923, the

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Schedule A comprised the Depressed Classes within which the Criminal Tribes and the wandering tribes were shown. Under the Criminal Tribes Act of 1924, certain communities engaged in offending activities were identified as CTs. The CTs Act was replaced on 31st August, 1952. Since then the tribes under the Act have been declared as denotified tribes. In the OBCs list of 1933, the communities exhibiting nomadic traits, e.g. the Davari, Dombari, Garudi, Gondhali, Joshi, Jogi, Kaikadi, Kolhati, Lamani, Nandiwale, Vaidu, Vasudev and the like were included. The list prepared under the Government of Bombay, dated 7th December, 1956, classified some 27 tribes as nomadic and as many as 73 tribes as semi-nomadic. After the bifurcation of the Bombay State, under the Government Regulation dated 18th October, 1960, the Officer on Special Duty for the preparation of a single list of Denotified Tribes or vimukta jati and nomadic and semi nomadic tribes was directed to undertake an extensive survey of the areas inhabited by the aforesaid tribes throughout the state to study their living conditions, ascertain their felt needs and make recommendation for a uniform list for the consideration of Government. The officer submitted his report to the Government in July 1961.Considering the recommendations, the Govt. of Maharashtra under the GR dated 21st Nov. 1961 declared two lists: Schedule I consisting of 13 vimukta jatis and Schedule II of the 24 Nomadic Tribes to implement the welfare programmes under the Third Five Year Plan ( Dahiwale S.M.,2994, pp.33-34). After 1961, with the addition of Jatis and Tribes, there are now 14 Vimukta Jatis and 28 Nomadic Tribes in Maharashtra. The settlement of these tribes under the 1871 Act continued even after independence. In 1950 the constitution of India was implemented. The criminal tribes were included under Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes. The settlements for criminal tribes continued until 1952. The Loksabha cancelled the Criminal Tribes Act in 1952 and they became free. By the suggestion of Parliament, the criminal tribes were included within the SC and ST category with the exception of Maharashtra. Mangs, Paradhi, Kaikadi and other Criminal Tribes were included in SCs. They got all the concessions available to the SCs and STs until 1960. Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, then Prime-Minister of India came to Sholapur on 15th August, 1960. Mr. Bhimrao Jadhav, Ex-Mayor of Sholapur and leader of the Bhatakya Vimukta Chalval, Nafare Guruji and Nagarkar Guruji and some other community leaders met the Prime- Minister and appealed: ‘We have been included in the lists of Mahar and Mang. These castes have more

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population and so we do not get the benefits. We were imprisoned for 80 years in open Prisons of Britishers, now you do something separate for us’. The Prime Minister asked the Department of Social Welfare to take appropriate measures for the rehabilitation of the tribes. In the meantime the State of Maharashtra was formed and the third list for the bhatakya and the vimukta was prepared. But this third list created some anomalies. The paradhi in Nashik district is in the tribal list whereas the paradhi in the adjoining districts of Ahmedanagar and Pune are in bhatakya and vimukta jamati. As the list is full of anomalies, there is a demand to lift the territory base and include them into Schedule Castes (SCs) and Scheduled Tribes (STs) (Bhosale Vyankappa, 2006, pp. 78-79).

1.1 Sociological studies of criminal tribes / nomadic tribes V.C. Simhadri notes that Indian village studies have generally ignored criminal tribes. Village studies concentrate on other aspects of political, social (caste) and family life. Studies on criminal tribes are rare and those that exist are anthropological or historical accounts. Sociologists have paid little attention to this problem. Simhadri studied the criminal behaviour of Yerukulas, an ex-criminal tribe in Guntur district in Andhra Pradesh (Simhadri V.C.1979, pp.24-25). It has been reported that the tribes have been changing since the independence of the country and the Government of India has attempted to integrate them into the larger society. Chandrashekhar Bhat noted that sociological studies on nomads in India are almost lacking. Except for a few works of P.K Mishra such as ‘The Economy of a Nomadic Artisan Community: A Study of the Economy and Society among the Nomadic Gadulia Lohars of Eastern Rajasthan’, unpublished Ph.D. Thesis, University of Lucknow, 1966, and Sher Singh’s The Sansis of Punjab, Munshiram, Delhi, 1965, and The Sikligars of Punjab, Sterling Publishers, Jullunder, 1966, there are hardly any detailed accounts on nomads. Another study is ‘Ethnicity and Mobility: Emerging Ethnic Identity and Social Mobility among the Wadars of South India’ (Chandrashekhar Bhat, 1984: 19). S.G. Deogaonkar and Shailaja Deogaonkar S. have studied The Banjara, Concept Publishers, New Delhi). This article deals with the Makadawale Community which is one of the subcastes of Kaikadi. The Kaikadi are one of the ex-criminal tribes in India. It will focus on the settled life of the Makadawale community in Kolhapur under the patronage of Chhatrapati Shahu Maharaja and discuss the

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community practices and development activities through community leadership. It will also detail their recent conversion to Buddhism, along with 42 other tribes, on 27th May 2007 at Mumbai. The material presented is based on ethnography, observations, and a review of literature in English and Marathi.

2. The Kaikadi: Origin, Gods and Goddesses, Spatial Distribution, Language, and Sub Castes 2.1 The origin myth of the Kaikadi runs thus: once upon a time, in the hilly region of Kuruchi in Tamilnadu, there was a tribe known as Kurav or Korva. The tribesmen used to cultivate food grains on the foothills. Selecting a different hill every year, they shifted their grain fields regularly. This type of cultivation is known as shifting cultivation. The Kuravs sustained themselves on the produce of their shifting cultivation and the available forest produce. With time, an advanced agricultural tribe must have displaced the Kuravs and occupied their cultivable land. The displaced Kuravs turned nomadic and spread to Karnataka, Bihar, Orissa, and Madhya Pradesh. Some of them found refuge in Maharashtra and became known as Kaikadis (Ghatage Babasaheb: 68). Kaikadi is usually found in Tamilnadu (Korva), Andhra Pradesh (Metkula), Maharashtra, Madhya Pradesh (Kaikadi),Karnataka ( Korvi, Korva or Bajantri), Kerala, Orissa and Bihar. 2.2 Kaikadi in Maharashtra: They are found in Mumbai, Thane, Kulaba, Ratnagiri, Nashik, Dhule, Jalgaon, Pune, Ahmedanagar, Satara, Sangli, Kolhapur, Solapur, Aurangabad, Beed, Parabhani, Osmanabadand, Nanded Districts and Rajura taluka in Chandrapur district. The Kaikadis are more populous in Western Maharashtra. 2.3 Gods and Goddesses: The Kaikadi worship the following gods and goddesses: Mashamma, Khandoba, Uraama, Kurakumbh Devi, Kalubai, Marimata, Jaladevi, Shedi Devur Amma, Phirasti Amma, Devar, Kullar amma. The Kunchi Korava has the following gods and goddesses: Marimata, Yallamma, Maruti and Durgamata. 2.4 Language: Kaikadis speak Kaikadi Arvi or an impure Telugu language. They can speak Marathi and Kannada. They have distinctive words and signs. 2.5 Sub castes: There is no agreement about the number of sub-castes of Kaikadi in Maharashtra. In 1911 the following sub-castes were listed in

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Maharashtra. 1. Chor Kaikadi alias Phiraste/Dontalmora, 2. Gaon Kaikadi alias Buti, Topale Kaikadi. Among them those who perform vajantri are called Vajantri or Sanadi Kaikadi and those who stay by constructing a house are called Grahastha Kaikadi, 3. Kuchadi Kaikadi or Kunchivale, 4 Makadawale, 5. Kuth ( Makad) Kaikadi, called Lalbajarawale or Ganasur 6. Telangan or Kamathi Kaikadi. These are Phiraste, Koche and Pamlora from Karnataka and Madras (Atre T.N. 1911: 39). There are sub castes like Kunchi Korava, Koravi, Korava, Dhosale and Pamlora. There are two types of Kaikadi: 1. wanderer, who moves from one place to another and 2. gaonkaiakdi who have settled in villages. The gaonkaikadi have progressed compared to wanderers as they have become literate and educated (Chavan Ramnath, 2003: 63). There are five subgroups as follows: 1. Chor (Thieves) Kaikadis/Phiraste (wanderers), 2. Gaon Kaikadis/ Bajantri Kaikadi or Sanadi Kaikadi who return to the village during the monsoon. They weave baskets and other articles, 3. Kudchi/Kunchi Kaikadis, ie. those making tree root brushes, 4. Makadawale Kaikadi known as Lalbazerwale and Ganasurs and 5. Snakecharming Kaikadis (Ghatage B.S., 2001: 67). The Kaikadi have main four sub-castes. 1. Kunchi Korava (Makadawale), 2. Gulade or Dhontale, 3.Pamlora and 4. Koravi. (Mande Prabhakar, 1983: 121). There are five sub castes of Kaikadi: Gaon Kaikadi, Phiraste Kaikadi, Pamlora, Shantole and Koravi. Koravi has two subgroups: Gaon Koravi and Phiraste Koravi. These sub-castes consider themselves superior than others (Sakate Machhindra). 2.6 Kunchi Korva/ Makadawale: The Kunchi Korva produce special brushes (kuncha) from tree roots which are used for applying starch to raw blankets. The brush looks like kunchala/ kunchi. Hence the name is kunchi korva. They are also called as Makadawale because they capture small monkeys (langurs) and train them to show some tricks. The Koravi bring monkeys which are red in colour and are attractive from Mumbai and Hyderabad. These monkeys are trained quickly within 2 to 3 months. The male monkey performs the role of the husband and the female monkey performs the role of wife. As the Makadawale were not ‘useful’ to the community (Atre T.N. 1915: 81), the Indian social system made some of the communities into beggars. This was approved by tradition, religion and society. Animals were

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assigned to different castes like the Nandibailwale: nandi or bull, the Sapgarudi, madari or snakes, the Makadawale: monkey, the Daraveshi: bear, the Rayarand: camel, and the Kudamude Joshi: parrot.

3 The Role of Chhatrapati Shahu Maharaja in the Welfare of the Makadawale Community: Chhatrapati Shahu was impressed by the Makadawale due to their hunting skills and he invited 3 or 4 Makadawale families (Irrappa Koravi, Muttappa Koravi and Gurappa Koravi and others) to his princely state, Kolhapur during the first decade of 20th century. Chhatrapati Shahu attempted to remove their criminal branding and to bring them into mainstream. He did not implement the Settlement Act of the British Govt. The Makadawale served in the hunting squad of Chhatrapati Shahu. Other criminal tribes served in different sections. Although the Makadawale cannot stay for more than three days at one place Chhatrapati Shahu settled these people in his area. Their habitat was changed to Mahavir College, Sonathal, Dombarwada, Shahupuri 5th Lane, Chittakhana near Shivaji Park. At present there is a settlement at Kawala Naka (Tararani Chowk). The present settlement is on 1 ½ acres of land. In 1976 the Slum Improvement Board Act was passed and the locality was declared as a slum and civic facilities were made available to the people in the community. The people from the community chalked out a plan for roads in 1990 and these were prepared.

4. Population In Kolhapur there are 250 families and the population of this community is approximately 2000. Apart from Kolhapur city, in the district, there are Makadawale at Gadahinglaj, Ichalkaranji and Mudhal Titha and 10 to 15 families stay in these places.

5. Food habits In Kolhapur 40% of the females from the various families practice begging for food. In the remaining families, food is prepared. The majority of the community members are regular non-vegetarians. Only a few families have changed from non-vegetarianism to vegetarianism, and this mainly due to economic reasons. Earlier pigs were reared and eating pork was common.

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But this practice has been discontinued. The men take alcohol regularly, a sign of their frustration?

6 Marriages General rules are prescribed for marriages where community level endogamy is observed. Earlier, child marriages were practiced. Monogamy is common and polygamy is practiced in a few cases. The bride price is paid in kind with a token cash amount. In the past, the marriage ceremony continued for five to six days, but now it lasts for only three days. The clan of the bridegroom and bride meet. As this community moves around nearly eight months in a year, the marriages are conducted in the rainy season. The marriages are held at the bridegroom’s home. The first day of marriage is for basta. New clothes are purchased for the bridegroom and bride, and chooda (dry rice-ed) for the bridegroom and kalasgiti (most respectable woman) are provided. The second day is for the application of the auspicious haldi or turmeric. The panch (head-ed) gives a kankan of haldi, a copper ring, black thread, and pan-supari (betel leaf and areca nut-a popular digestive in India-ed) to the bridegroom and bride. Both bride and groom are bathed in turmeric, and feasted on sweet rice. In the pandal (mandap or stage-ed), the ritual cloth is kept in between the two and paddy grains are thrown on them. On the third day, both are bathed together. Some games of finding out the golden ring from the red water are performed. The bridegroom is given a coconut, paddy grains, and banana. Divorce is permissible with the approval of the Panch Committee for reasons of barrenness, no male issue, and conflict. The divorce compensation is given to the husband’s parents. The children are the liability of the father. Remarriage for the divorcee, widow and widower is permissible. In 1980 there was an attempt to sell wives by their husbands but this was stopped by Vyankappa Bhosale.

7. Economy The village has baluta system (jajamani) relations between the farmer and the artisans. This is also called Gaongada. But the vimukta jati/ jamati were not related to the gaongada. The relations of vimukta jatis were casual; the villagers regarded them as thieves, as bhamatas, as wild. So these castes were not part of the Gaongada. Makadawale is one of these communities.

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In the past there were no means of entertainment in the villages. So some communities, such as the Makadawale, developed into entertainers. They traveled with performing monkeys and in return received grains and /or cash. But nowadays there is no scope for these communities to show their items of entertainment. Again, traditionally, they prepared brushes. But now due to modern techniques of cloth production, there is no demand for these brushes. Therefore now the women beg. They prepare shindi toys, baskets and repair these items. The community is landless. Some work as housemaids. The people nowadays depend mainly on begging and service (such as working in the State Transport Corporation of Maharashtra, being a sweeper in the Kolhapur Municipal Corporation) and self-employment (small mechanical workshop, cycle shop, auto-rickshaw, pan shop, transport, travel tours on hire, selling of liquor, selling buddhi ke bal, or candy floss from spun sugar as ‘Bambai Mithai’ (Bombay sweetmeats-ed), and selling balloons). Pig raising, illicit brewing, money lending at atrocious interest rates, basket weaving are the major occupations of the Kaikadis settled in urban area. With the exception of begging, the people have changed their traditional occupations and have entered into new occupations.

8. Jatpanchayat The jatpanchayat (community council-ed) exists in the community, which meets twice or thrice in a year. The forms of punishment are social boycott, ex-communication, cash-fine etc. Adultery, rape, elopement, disrespect to traditional norms are considered offences. The state of justice has worsened now. It has been reported in the jatpanchayat that the panches are from rich families and the justice is not given to the poor. The five senior people act as panch and the headship is given to the Jadhav clan. Madhi in Ahmednagar district is main center of the panchayat. The other centers are Jejuri and Malegaon in Nanded district. If the person has extra-marital relations with a woman, he is fined up to Rs.120. If the widow becomes pregnant, the panchayat fines her father and she is advised abortion. Such women are ex-communicated and marks put on their forehead.

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9. Police Attitudes towards the Makadawale Vyankappa Bhosale, one of the leaders from the community, wrote that the Makadawale could not maintain their life without begging and hunting. They starved if they remained at home. In spite of the worst financial conditions they were harassed by the policemen. As this tribe was included within the criminal tribes, they are always suspects. Whenever there was a crime, they were the first suspects, and beaten up by the police. So under the leadership of Bapusaheb Patil, Ravindra Sabanis, the volunteers Namadev Jadhav, Vyankappa Bhosale, Shrikrishna Palkhande, Rambhau Pundalik, Yallappa Revan, Lagav Jondhale, and Vyankappa Keraba, met senior police officials and told them the historical background of the Makadawale community. As this group maintained pressure, police actions were lessened. (Bhosale Vyankappa, 2006: 57).

10. The Emergence of Leadership and Development Activities Leadership has emerged from the community. Social and political awareness are the key programmes, as there is very low level of literacy. The general trend is that the students do not go beyond the secondary level. Drop-outs occur due to economic reasons and also due to the level of the social awareness prevailing within the community. Literacy has increased of late and we find 20 graduates in this community. Vyanakappa Bhosale runs two ashram schools from the 1st to 10th Std. at Pachagaon and Rajaputwadi near Kolhapur. Attempts are made to provide skill based education to the students so that they can have their own employment. As leader of the Makadawale community in Kolhapur, Vyankappa Bhosale took part in many agitations. Some of them are: 1. Zopadapatti Parishad: Kolhapur 14th August, 1969.Satyagraha for homeless people on Govt. land opposite to Market Yard. He was jailed for 14 days. 2. Samata Long March: 2nd Oct. 1969 Kolhapur to Mumbai. 3. Closing down the Tahashildar’s office, 1972: Demand of Ration Card for slum dwellers at the time of drought. 4. Maharashtra Karnataka Border Issue1973: against violent action.

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5. Establishment of Slums Association, 1977, many morchas (processionsed) for the proper rehabilitation of slum dwellers. 6. Establishment of Kuch Koravi Samaj Seva Mandal, 1971. Employment to the young persons in the Kolhapur Municipal Corporation and the Kolhapur Municipal Transport. 1976: Declaration of Govt. Slum, 1977: Streetlights, Water, Toilets, Drainage, Roads, Water tank through Development Fund of the Corporation. 7. Bhataka Vimukta Samaj Vikas Mandal: 29th June 1981 for Kolhapur and its surroundings. Programmes like prohibition of liquor, family planning, removal of blind faiths, AIDS awareness, 8. Rehabilitation of Prostitutes: 19th October, 1983. From the Dombari and Davari communities. 9. Conference to Eradicate Suspected Criminals: 11th June, 1984. Morcha against Police administration. 10. Andolan at Hutatma Chowk, Mumbai: 21st July, 1986. Phaseparadhi from Kolhapur, Sangli and Satara districts. 11. Samata Cooperative Housing Society: 1983 proposed, 1987, approval, 1993, 110 houses constructed under Valmiki Ambedkar Housing Programme of Govt. of Maharashtra in Rajendranagar. 12. Dr. Rammanohar Lohia Cooperative Credit Society: Making people free from the clutches of moneylenders and to provide them loans to start petty business/industry. 13 Ashram Schools: 1994 at Rajaputwadi , classes I to X., 160 students, Rs. 32 lakh have been spent for construction of a school building on 15 guntha land. In the initial stage, Vyankappa Bhosale spent Rs. 7 lakh from his pension fund. Bhosale has received many awards. The Govt. of Maharashtra has awarded him the Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar Dalit Mitra Puraskar in 2006. (Bhosale Vyankappa, 2006: 105-112). There are following organizations in the community. Kunchi-Korava Samaj Seva Mandal (1971), Bhataka Vimukta Samaj Vikas Mandal (1978), Babubhai Parikh Balak mandir (1984). They provide spread of Balawadi education and health-club facilities. In 1988

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Vyankappa Bhosale (Makadawale), Laxman Mane (Kaikadi) and other leaders from this community had a shodhyatra from Latur to Mumbai for Manavmukti and Jatimukti. They visited many Tandas. They observed that the people were ignorant about their right to vote. And that most were still illiterate.

10.1 Conference of Social Workers, 1987 The conference of Makadawala social workers from Maharashtra and Karnataka was organized under the chairmanship of Vyankappa Bhosale on 28th May 1987 at Kolhapur. Nearly 800 people were present and the conference continued from 10.00 a.m. to 5 p.m. The following resolutions were passed. The resolutions passed show the socio-economic conditions of the Makadawale (Bhosale Vyankappa, 2006, p.62). 1. The Makadawala community is in the list of suspected criminals by the police. They beg to earn a livelihood. They are far from power, wealth and prestige. There is no development, so this community should be included in Scheduled Castes or Scheduled Tribes. 2. The Makadawala community wanders from one place to other so it is deprived from education. Free educational facilities should be provided. In Karnataka the situation is the worst, so improvements should be made there first. 3. The practice of begging should be stopped. 4. The child marriage practice should be stopped. 5. The Govt. should give 50% subsidy to the loan takers of Vasantrao Naik Mahamandal. 6. The year 1987 was declared as ‘Shelter Year’, and the govt. should construct houses for the people of the community and land plots should be made available for the proposed Housing Society. 7. If the wife is alive then the community should not give permission to a second marriage. 8. The authority given to the jatpanchayat to allow the husband to sell his wife is an inhuman act, and an insult to women. So this act of the jatpanchayat should be cancelled.

11. Conversion of 42 Communities to Buddhism: 27th May 2007 G.S. Ghurye analyzed the religion of tribals. He observed that: ‘almost all the so-called aboriginal tribes of the region have a Hinduized section, small

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or large, that they have been in fairly intimate contact with the Hindus for a long time and that they have common interests with the Hindus in matters of religion and gainful occupation. They have shown a tendency to look upon themselves as Hindus or as people closely connected with the Hindus. They seek to improve their social position by asserting themselves to be Hindus and then establishing a claim for a status higher than that of the lowest or even lower castes…. The proper description of these people must refer to their place in or near Hindu society and not to their supposed autochthonism. While sections of these tribes are properly integrated in the Hindu society, a very large section, in fact the bulk of them, are rather loosely integrated. Only very small sections, living in the recesses of hills and the depths of forests, have not been more than touched by Hinduism. Under the circumstances, the only proper description of these people is that they are imperfectly integrated classes of Hindu society. Though for the sake of convenience they may be designated the tribal classes of Hindu society, suggesting thereby the social fact that they have retained much more of the tribal creeds and organizations than many of the castes of Hindu society, yet they are in reality Backward Hindus’, (Ghurye G.S.,1963: 18-19). Sudhakar Rao notes that ‘Social Anthropologists in India have seen the tribes as strangers to Hinduism. However, Marcel Mauss feels that tribes in India do share Indian civilization (cf Dumont L. A South Indian Sub-caste: Social Organisation and Religion of the Pramalal Kallar, OUP, Delhi, 1986:2-3)’. According to Rao the study of Indian tribes should, therefore, form a part of Indian civilization. The tribe forms a microcosm of the macrocosmic Indian society. This would not undermine the complexity of the Indian society (Rao, Sudhakar N, 2002, pp.16-17). Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar’s conversion to Buddhism along with lakhs of followers on 14th October 1956 at Nagpur in Maharashtra dealt a severe deathblow to caste culture. His conversion was a milestone in the liberation movement. At the meeting he made his intention of making the whole of India into a Buddhist nation. Dr Ambedkar’s dhamma shows hope as well as purpose. Its purpose is to remove avijja i.e. ignorance of the existence of suffering. There is a message of hope in it because it shows the way to put an end to human sufferings. (Mane Suresh, 2006: 209-210). The Dhamma Chakra Pravartan was organized on the occasion of the Golden Jubilee of Dhamma Diksha by the Bhatakya Vimukta Jamati Sanghatana, Maharashtra. The leaflet was distributed on this occasion. The content of the leaflet is as follows:

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Chapter Sixteen The wandering tribes have lived deprived life for thousands of years. They have no village, no house, and no land. If they go for begging, the police treat them as thieves and harass them. These communities were totally neglected. The tandas were demolished by the police. Even after independence, the situation could not be improved. Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar has shown the way out. His message is to get educated, get united and to fight for just and human rights. We have decided to throw away gods, religion, castes-sub castes, traditions, witches, jatras, ignorance, illiteracy. “Atta Deep Bhav”. Be light for oneself, Be toiling people. Stop stealing. Stop begging. The way shown by Goutam Buddha and Bodhisattva Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar will only lead us to respectful life of freedom, equality, brotherhood and justice. We from 42 selected landless communities have taken Dhamma diksha at Dikshabhumi at Nagpur on 2nd October, 2006, and the President of the Sanghatana Mr. Laxman Mane along with his followers started Dhamma Diksha Golden Jubilee concluding ceremony on 14th April 2007 from Chandrapur. Dhamma Chakra Pravartan went to wadis, vasties, tandas with a tour of 45 days throughout the state. The Pravartan reached to Mumbai on 26th May, 2007 and the conversion to Buddhism of lakhs of people from these communities was done on 27th May, 2007 at the Mahalaxmi Racecourse ground. Buddhism was accepted for social prestige and to get freedom from mental slavery according to Mr. Laxman Mane. (Leaflet of Bhatakya Vimukta Jamati Sanghatana and Bharatiya Boudh Samaj, Kolhapur and Reception Committee of Golden Jubilee of Dhamma Diksha).

In this function after the conversion, Mr. Ramadas Aathavale, President, Indian Republic Party, took an oath of 20 points from the audience: ‘I will not pray to any Hindu gods and goddesses, I will not act against Boudh religion. I reject Hindu religion and accept Boudh religion’. Laxman Mane said that it was not enough to change religion; ones’ behaviour had to be changed. The caste system would not be abolished unless this occurs. (Daily Sakal, Kolhapur, 28th May, 2007). Hunger and deprivation led to the craving for freedom, equality, pradnya, karuna, sheel, bahujan hitaya, atta deep bhav. Thus is recognition given to men. Buddhism leads human society on the path of development (Editorial, Daily Sakal, 29th May, 2007). The question now is: what about the educational and employment concessions after conversion? Mr. Laxman Mane has accepted that this issue will be raised. He promised: ‘the agitation will be carried out to get the concessions. But even if they do not get concessions we will not return. After Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar’s conversion to Buddhism, the concessions were stopped. There were many agitations. After the formation of the state

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of Maharashtra in 1960, the concessions were given. But for the concessions in the Central Govt. the agitations were carried out for 29 years and ultimately along with the implementation of the Mandal Commission Report, the concessions were given in 1990. After conversion, the strength of Buddhists will increase. On this strength, we will try to get the concessions. If we do not get them, then also we will not care. After 60 years of independence, the percentage of literacy is only 0.6. So the Govt. jobs are far away from us. So with concessions or without concessions, what will be the difference? There is a reservation of 11% for Denotified and Vimukta Jatis, their population is approximately 3 lakh. But as the percentage of education is very less, there is no benefit of concessions. There will be agitation on two points. 1. “Enroll the children in Schools” will be started from 1st June 2007. Unless the children are educated, there will be no progress, 2. “Grab the Govt. land”, this agitation is to grab the uncultivated and van (forest, waste land-ed) land of the Govt. for permanent settlement’. (Daily Sakal, 30th May, 2007).

12. An Overview The Kaikadi have their origin in Tamilnadu. They are spread about in many states of India. They have their gods, goddesses, language and sub-castes. The Kunchi Korava / Makadawale are the sub-caste of Kaikadi Vimukta Jati. They were branded as criminal tribes by the British and the same attitude has been continued by the police in independent India. Their traditional occupations could not be continued due to the modern factory system of production and the new means of entertainment. In the Gaongada system they had no place either and so these castes continued wandering from one place to another in search for livelihood. The Makadawale were settled in Kolhapur due to the patronage of Chhatrapati Shahu Maharaj. Their literacy level is still low. They have their own social (marriage practice) and political (jatpanchayat) formations. They have entered into new occupations of self-employment and some of them are serving in the Municipal Corporation and Transport. There has been the emergence of a leadership within the Makadawale who are fighting for the rights of this community as active citizens. This leadership is trying to facilitate both better socio-economic conditions and infrastructural facilities for the community. How far they will succeed in achieving these twin objectives requires further watching.

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References Atre, T.N., 1915, Gaongada (in Marathi), M.V. Mote Prakashan, Bombay. —. 1911, Criminal Tribes (in Marathi) Varada Books, Pune. Bhosale, Vyankappa, 2006, Amhi Upekshit (in Marathi) Parivartan Prakashan, Kolhapur. Chavan, Ramnath, 2003, Bhatakya Vimuktanche Antarang, (in Marathi), Manav Vikas Prakashan, Mumbai. Dahiwale, S.M., 2004, ‘Defining Constitutional Terms for the Classification of Citizens into Backward Categories: The Case of Maharashtra’ in Bhosale B.V. Ed. Mobilisation of Backward Communities in India, Deep & Deep Publication Pvt. Ltd., New Delhi. Daily Sakal, Kolhapur, 28th May, 2007, —. Editorial 29th May, 2007, —. 30th May, 2007. Ghatage, Babasaheb S., 2001, ‘A Study of the Impact of Social Welfare Measures on the Development of the Nomadic Tribes in Kolhapur District’. Unpublished Ph.D. Thesis in Social Work, Shivaji University, Kolhapur. Mane, Suresh, 2006, Glimpses of Socio-Cultural Revolts in India, Samrudh Bharat Publications, Mumbai, 2006. Patil, R.B., 1987, National Project entitled ‘People of India: Central Region, Nagpur’, submitted by the author to the Anthropological Survey of India, Govt. of India. Sakate, Machhindra, ‘Out of Village Boundary’ (in Marathi) forthcoming. Simhadri, V.C., 1979, Ex-Criminal Tribes of India, National, New Delhi.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN THE HUMAN RIGHTS IMPLICATIONS OF DALIT SELF-ASSERTION IN INDIA1 JAGANNATHAM BEGARI

The present study is an attempt to assess the rising consciousness of Dalits in the Medak district of Andhra Pradesh - one of the southern states of India. I argue that the nature and evolution of the Dalit movement is reflected in the impact created by two major incidents in the Telangana region and one incident in the greater Andhra Pradesh region, all of which resulted in violence against the Dalits and their self-assertion (visible in the refusal to the killing of animals in front of the goddess). The first was in Psundur village in Prakasham district in 1989; the second, in Jhadimalkapur village in 1996; and the third was in Allapur village, Narayanakhed mandal2, in Medak district (movement against denial of temple entry) in 2004. Based on these undemocratic episodes, the way the Dalit movement shaped and reshaped its agenda, its political discourse and the strategy of transformation in the Telangana and the Andhra regions in India is the focus of this paper. The comparison of these movements is very important in understanding not only the structure of these movements, but also the nature of the ongoing social transformation in the region. It is also an attempt to understand the consciousness of dalits and to elucidate, based on these three case studies, how these groups converted from Hinduism to Christianity as well as factors that account for their disavowal of their own culture and religion. The study also seeks to analyze these developments in the light of Ambedkar’s3 understanding of Indian democracy: values, reality and its formal and substantive dimensions and also its vitalities and vulnerabilities. Such an approach would provide an insight into the unfolding reality and also reconceptualize Indian democracy.

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Introduction Human rights are much discussed in contemporary India. They have been more intensely debated in the wake of growing atrocities against this historically deprived community. Dalit Human Rights have become an international issue and organizations like Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International, Minorities Rights Group and Anti-Slavery International are engaged in the discourse. The issue is being raised in international bodies such as the UN. The socio-economic milieu of Indian society is inherently hostile towards the protection of the human rights of the dalits. Violations of dalits’ (human) rights are one of the systemic problems in India. It is social stratification through the caste system which promotes and perpetuates societal violations of dalit human rights.4 In this regard, my study seeks to understand dalit human rights and their self-assertion, to comprehend the nature of the violation of dalits’ rights, their consequent growing political self-assertion and the overall trends in the dalit struggle for dignity, selfrespect and freedom. The post-emergency5 period marks a new phase in the political history of India. It has seen heightened social and political articulations and an intense ideological contestation through a wide assortment of issue-based mobilizations and struggles in different parts of the country. Farmers’ movements, dalit mobilization, the renewed struggles of the agrarian poor, the emergence of a women’s discourse, and a new phase in student politics and civil rights articulation in a number of states are a part of this new development and are demonstrative of a vibrant civil society in the postemergency period. The state of Andhra Pradesh is no exception to this rule. A massive mobilization of different sections of society, and students and rural youth in particular, mark a new phase in the grassroots politics in the state. The organization and political articulation of the rural poor has taken a more visible form and has moved to the centre of political discourse. These articulations pose an ideological challenge to mainstream politics in general and to the Indian National Congress (INC), which has been a dominant power in state politics since the formation of the state in 19566.

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I Brief Sketch of Dalits and Telangana The Telangana region is located in the western part of Andhra Pradesh. It was formerly part of the State of Hyderabad ruled by the Asaf Jahi dynasty (the ruler was known popularly as the Nizam) from the eighteenth century until independence. It came out of the ruins of the medieval Bahamanid and Qutub Shahi kingdoms and formed a polygonal tract occupying the centre of the Deccan Plateau. The Nizam’s State 7 comprised three linguistic regions: Telangana, Marathwada and Karnataka. For the purpose of administration the entire state was divided into four subas (i.e., districts): Warangal and Medak (Telangana) Aurangabad (Marathwada) and Gulbarga (Karnataka). The Telangana region that formed a part of the Nizam’s dominions represented the unique Deccan culture.8 While India achieved independence in 1947, the Hyderabad state did not get freedom until 1948. After a police action under the leadership of Sardar Vallabai Patel, the state was merged with the Indian union. In 1956 the region was merged with the Andhra region (it was earlier a part of Madras presidency) based on language i.e. Telugu.9 There is a widespread feeling that the aspirations of the Telangana people were undermined in all spheres, i.e. social, economic and political, which resulted in demanding a separate Telangana state10. This is an agitation that is still going on at present. Telangana is supposed to be a backward region; the regional backwardness is also reflected in the deprivation of Dalits there. This study focuses on Medak district as a whole and Narayanakhed and Zaheerabad mandals in Medak district in particular, and despite sixty years of democracy, the conditions of Dalits in general, seen qualitatively, have not changed. This raises a question about the nature of democracy in India11.

I.1 Ambedkar’s Vision of Democracy Ambedkar’s vision of democracy did not leave room for any ambiguity regarding the nature of this ideal. On many occasions he stated that he saw it as both the end and the means for the realization of this vision of human rights. It was the end because he ultimately considered it as coterminous with the realization of liberty, equality and fraternity. At the same time, democracy was also the means through which this ideal was to be attained. Another crucial feature of Ambedkar’s conception of democracy is that it is ‘a form and a method of government whereby revolutionary changes in the economic and social life of the people are brought about without

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bloodshed.’12 The essence of democracy in his view lay in social transformation and human progress. His passion for democracy was closely related to his commitment to rationality and scientific outlook. Unless one could adopt rationality, there could be no meaning to liberty, equality and fraternity.13 He also felt that ‘morality’ in the sense of social ethics was indispensable for the realization of liberty and equality. In the absence of morality, there were only two alternatives: anarchy or the use of police force.14 His understanding of morality was integrated with his commitment to rationality and the scientific spirit. Ambedkar’s vision of democracy encompasses ‘political, social and economic democracy’15. As he saw it, political democracy alone could not be expected to go very far, if glaring economic and social inequalities remained. A well-known expression of this concern was his parting speech to the Constituent Assembly: on the 26th January 1950, he said, ‘We are going to enter into a life of contradictions. In politics we will have equality and in social and economic life we will have inequality… how long shall we to live this life of contradictions? How long shall we continue to deny equality in our social and economic life? If we continue to deny it for long, we will do so only by putting our democracy in peril’.16 Ramaiah argued that unless Dalits have economic and cultural diversity, there is no meaning to political diversity. If social justice is truly our concern, it is only through this strategy that the nation could not only make its diverse population accountable for its deeds, but also infuse a sense of ‘oneness’, unity and love for the nation. The nation should enhance the importance of each culture in its diverse developmental efforts and share with them its assets and the opportunities for development which may be in the areas of the nation’s social, economic, educational, employment and other developmental activities.17

I.2 Democratic Rights: Vitalities and Vulnerabilities In the international arena, we have the Preamble of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR). It revolves around the principles of freedom, respect, dignity, peace, equality and tolerance. The articles of UDHR clearly emphasize the rights, life, liberty and security of the person. Everyone has the right to freedom of movement within the state, everyone has the right to peaceful assembly and association, everyone has the right to work, free choice of employment, just conditions of work, protection against unemployment, everyone has the right to equal pay for equal work

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and the right to form and join associations for the protection of his/her interests. There are similar provisions in the Indian constitution. It provides fundamental rights to the citizens such as equality before law (article 14), prohibition of discrimination on grounds of religion, race, caste, sex or place of birth (article 15), protection of life and personal liberty (article 21), freedom to practice any profession or to carry on any profession or occupation, trades or business (article 19), prohibition of forced labour (article 23), and protection against arrest and detention in certain cases (article 22). The Indian Constitution also confers a right to property and specifies that no person shall be deprived of his property save by the authority of the law (Article 300 A). These rights are similar to the human rights proclaimed in the UDHR and other related UN documents. These rights alone, however, were not sufficient to counteract the practice of untouchability. This fact led to the enactment of the Untouchability (offences) Act in 1955. This act was amended in 1976 and renamed as the Protection of Civil Rights Act. Thereafter another act, The Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes Act (Prevention of Atrocities Act, 1989), was passed.18 This entire process indicates the attempts to transform formal democracy into a substantive democracy. Hence, this is an admission that no individual can live without democratic rights in contemporary times. 19 The rise of the rights movement demonstrates this point. The movements for human rights not only highlight the failures of the system but are also an assertion for real democracy. This gap needs to be closely examined through micro-level experiences which may provide an explanation for the gap between intention and execution and also offer a clue for formulating the strategy of transformation.

I.3 Indian Democracy: Formal and Substantial Despite the oppression of dalits, India claims to be a democracy and has been known for her unique cultural, religious and ethnic diversities since centuries. India has been a fertile ground for diverse social and economic life styles and arts emanating from each of these diversities. Therefore, India has every reason to be proud of its religious and cultural diversity. But is this rich cultural diversity valued in a true sense? Does the state, which takes immense pride in its cultural diversity, work towards the social and economic development of all its social groups? Does it work

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towards enabling dignified social status and opportunities, particularly of dalits, and does it protect them from exploitation and humiliations and violation of human rights?20 According to Kothari ‘the parliamentary system aims at eradicating all kinds of oppression and exploitation’21. It strives to create, maintain and enhance conditions that protect and develop fundamental human rights.22 According to these guidelines, the social, cultural and political rights have been enshrined in the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UNDHR) in 1948. The founders of the Indian constitution correctly envisaged that a democratic political system would bring about social and economic changes in the country. Jawaharlal Nehru said, in 1948, in the Constituent Assembly, ‘the first task of this assembly is to free India through a new constitution to feed the starving people and to clothe the naked masses, and to give every Indian the fullest opportunity to develop himself according to his capacity’.23 Rajendra Vora and Suhas Palshikar (2004) have discussed procedural or formal democracy and substantive democracy24. They maintain that even though formally we have constitutional safeguards like social, economic and political rights, India, which claims to be a welfare democracy through guaranteeing the right to work, the right to association, and the abolition of untouchability, these rights are not effectively implemented in practice.25 This could be due to the Indian social system, coalitional ineffectiveness, corruption of the bureaucracy, a lack of concern for the vulnerable, etc. In Indian democracy the marginalized sections perhaps enjoy some political rights at some level but they are certainly not enjoying social, cultural and economic rights. These indicate that democracy works formally but operationally it is not as effective as western democracies.26 Unless every individual has human rights, one would not have an opportunity to question the evils of the social system and harmful policies. Since this study focuses on democracy and Dalit assertions, Ambedkar’s vision of democracy has been discussed as his vision has its roots in early Dalit assertions in India.

II Historical Context of the Telangana Region In Telangana, given the above historical domination, the trajectory of change took class or the landed gentry, consisting of deshpandes belonging to the state, gave

specificities of the Nizam’s a different shape. The ruling Muslim jagirdars and Hindu citizens hardly any civil or

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political rights. This historical legacy of an oppressive class of landed gentry has created problems for the rural population through the illegal eviction of farmers. The extraction of free goods and services (known as vetti) was used by the ruling class and this led more to the denial of dalits’ rights to dignity and self-respect.27 In terms of social movements, civil society has been very active on the issue of Telangana. There has been a mobilization of the rural poor and youth by the radical left on the basis of class; the developed coastal region has witnessed an emotional mobilization on the socio-cultural identity of caste. The relationship of these subaltern mobilizations to the larger political processes - political parties, their social basis, and public policies – has been quite complex. The agrarian and dalit movements in Andhra Pradesh brought the following issues on to both civil society and the political agenda: one; land distribution, two; wage increases for agricultural labour, three; wage increases for farm servants, four; the same for beedi workers and tendu leaf collectors, and caste/class-based socioeconomic oppression (of which vetti, or forced labour, was an important dimension). This movement influenced Medak district. This study stresses Dalit self-assertion in Medak district. Medak district was originally known as Methuku Durgam and was subsequently changed to Methuku on account of the fine rice produced in this area. This area has a long history. Medak district earlier was part of the Kakatiya kingdom in the medieval period (12th to the 14th centuries). Finally, with the fall of the Qutubshahi dynasty, it was annexed to the Mughal Empire. During the formation of Hyderabad state, this district was detached and was included in the Nizam’s dominions. It finally became a part of Andhra Pradesh, with effect from November 1, 1956, after the re-organization of states following independence in India. Though the district is very close to Hyderabad, the capital city of Andhra Pradesh, the social practices relating to religion and caste, like the Jogini system, Vetti, Banamati, child marriages, untouchability (in schools students sit in separate class rooms) etc. remain widespread practices in Medak. They indicate, in the eyes of dalit activists, that dalits have been treated in an inhuman way in the districts of Telangana region. Several writers and social scientists like Prof. Haragopal (also a human rights activist) and Prof. Gopal Guru argue the same.

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II. 1 Understanding of the concepts of Dalit, Caste and Untouchability The term dalit is derived from the Sanskrit root ‘dal’, which means burst, split, broken or torn asunder, downtrodden, scattered, crushed, destroyed.28 The word was first used by the British, and then by Dr. B.R. Ambedkar in his Marathi Speech, ‘The Untouchables’, published in 1948. Later the Dalit Panthers revived the term in their 1973 Manifesto, extending its definition to include ‘Scheduled Tribes, neo-Buddhists, the working people, the landless and poor peasants, women, and all those who are being exploited politically, economically in the name of religion’.29 Literally, the meaning of dalit is ‘broken’; it refers to people who lie at the bottom of India’s caste system. Dalits are discriminated against, denied access to land, forced to work in degrading conditions, and routinely abused at the hands of the police and higher caste groups that enjoy state protection. In what has been called India’s ‘hidden apartheid’, entire villages in many Indian states remain completely stratified, with the untouchables segregated.30 It is important to explain the significance of the concept of ‘Dalit’ in this context. There has been an intense debate on this question, resulting in two important points of view. One is that the socially, politically and educationally oppressed sections of the society are dalits. The other is that dalits consist of only those sections of Indian society that have suffered or continue to suffer as untouchables. Dalits have been called by various names: untouchables, harijans (children of God-a name given by Gandhied), exterior castes, depressed classes, outcastes, pariahs, etc. In more ancient times, terms such as Mlechha, Chandala, Panchama, Nishada, Avarna, Antyaja, Atishudra. Paulkasa, etc were in use.31 Dalit communities in India are extremely heterogeneous groups, having divided into hundreds of castes and sub-sub-castes and spread over every corner of India.32 The term Dalit refers here to the scheduled castes and scheduled tribes who constitute around 23 percentage of the total population in India. According to the 2001 census, scheduled castes (dalits) comprise 16.2 percent of the total population of India, that is, they number over 17 crores. Scheduled tribes comprise 8.2 percent of the population, that is, they number over 8 crores. Both together constitute 24.4 percent of the Indian population; together they number over 25 crores.

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A defining feature of Hinduism is caste which encompasses a complex ordering of social groups on the basis of religion and rituals. Differences in status are traditionally justified by the religious doctrine of karma, a belief that one’s place in life is determined by one’s deeds in a previous lifetime. Caste is specifically an Indian expression of institutionalized inequality and indignity. As Ramaiah argued ‘in the name of caste, society is divided into two categories: power and vulnerability; privilege and oppression; honour and denigration; plenty and want; reward and deprivation. Untouchability is part and parcel of the caste structure; it is an economically and socially exploitative system worse than slavery’.33 India’s caste system is perhaps the world’s longest surviving social hierarchy with permeating graded inequality. Ambedkar saw the caste system as a serious obstacle on the path to democracy. According to him, democracy lies not just in the form of government but also in terms of association between the people, who form the society.34 According to S.R. Sankaran35, Indian society is divided and degraded on the basis of the caste system and therefore cannot truly be called democratic. Haragopal and B. Chandrasekhar Rao (2000) observed ‘the problem of caste is very complex as the ideology of Hinduism is rooted in hierarchical and authoritarian worldviews. Every caste occupies a place either lower or higher in the ladder. In the attempt for a change, each caste resists the domination from the castes below’.36 As Lata Murugkar argued, caste is a unique phenomenon in the world. For long, according to the Chaturvarna system of the Hindu religion, the untouchables have been regarded variously as avarnas, atisudras, antyajas or panchamas,—a fifth order of sorts, beyond the pale. The stigma of untouchability is attached to this community because of its so-called polluted state related to its members’ ‘lowly’ occupations as sweepers or cobblers. Untouchability has been considered a congenital stigma which cannot be eliminated by any rite or deed. For centuries, the untouchables suffered from many kinds of religious, economic and social discrimination. They were not allowed to study the sacred scriptures or worship in the temples of higher-caste Hindus. Even their touch was considered defiling by the caste Hindus; hence they were not allowed to bring water from tanks and wells of the latter. Their women were not permitted to cover their breasts. They were restricted in dress, speech, food and manner. Any violation of the customary norms of behaviour was visited with punishment - from severe ostracism to decapitation.37 S.K. Thorat observes that the Hindu social order leaves no scope for individual choice, including

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in matters of occupation. It also does not recognize equal need, equal work or equal ability as the basis of reward for labour in the distribution of goods and opportunities. It is believed that those who are considered as the highest must get the best and those who are classed as the lowest must accept the least and worst. This entrenched inequality leads to an unending spiral of violence against dalits.38 Regarding untouchability, the National Commission report, 1997, for Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes (SCs and STs), underscored that untouchability, the imposition of social disabilities on persons by reason of their birth in certain castes was still practiced in many forms throughout the country. Untouchability is a dominant factor still continuing in the matter of social relationships. Untouchability takes the form of barriers in bathing, eating, drinking, worshiping and having access to common property resources. It puts a ban on all common forms of participation. In the use of public facilities, the spirit of discrimination manifests itself in the exclusion of conveyance and access to land, water and other livelihood resources. Dalit women face double discrimination on the basis of caste and gender in all spheres of life and are subject to gross violations of their physical integrity, including sexual abuse by dominant castes. They are socially excluded, abused and economically exploited. The practice of ‘divine prostitution’ (Jogini/Devadasi system in temples in India-ed) continues even today, despite laws enacted prohibiting this menace that affects so much the dalit women.39 Dr. Ambedkar observed that untouchability was more than a religious system. It was an economic system worse than slavery. Prof. Nancharaiah observed that those who are considered as untouchables are denied the right to education, the right to owning land and the right of wearing jewellery. They are also denied the right to bargain for a decent wage and they are obliged to accept whatever is paid by the upper castes who are the dominant feudal landlords in the caste hierarchy. They still have to perform a number of duties in the villages without any remuneration.40 These are interrelated and are causes for the deprivation of dalits.

II.2 Emergence of the Dalit Movement in the Telangana Region The 1920s saw the emergence of the Dalit movement as a conscious, organized force in the social and political life of dalits. In the 1920s, after the Dalit Panthers movement saw a qualitative leap forward, Jyotirao Phule, Periyar Ramaswamy, and Ambedkar fought for self-respect, and a

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decent and dignified life for dalits. The earlier dalit movement emerged in Maharastra. Later it spread to the entire country. At the global level the turbulent post-war era was marked by the challenge of the Russian Revolution and by the Montague- Chelmsford reforms. It was a period of advancing mass struggles and ideological upheavals in India.41 The dalit movement also started during the same period. During those days, dalits in the Telangana region faced pressures to identify themselves either with Hindus or with Muslims. In some ways Dalit-Muslim relations in the Hyderabad area itself were close, yet it was a closeness characterized by ambiguity. The relationship was expressed in a saying quoted by one dalit activist, the Dalit colony is where the Muslims ‘in-laws live’. That is, the Muslims took wives/girls from the dalits. The devadasis from these communities: Malas, Madigas, Basavas and Matangis, often had relations with affluent or noble Muslims in Hyderabad city. When dalit reformers tried to stop these customs in the 1920s, one consequence was increasing Muslim antagonism. ‘Muslims were always after our girls’ was a frequent complaint among dalits. The ‘closeness’ thus had a clear element of sexual exploitation in it, as Muslims did not need to respect the dictates of untouchability. This could be seen in the naming of Hyderabad itself after a dalit girl (Bhagyamma) who is said to have been brought into the harem of the founding Qutub Shahi prince. In this narrow and communalized framework, a small but vigorous dalit movement developed after 1910, primarily led by the Hyderabad Dalits, particularly the Malas.42 Two leaders stood at the forefront of the movement, Bhagya Reddy Varma, with an organization called Manya Sangam, and Ariga Ramaswamy.43 They worked with the help of Manyasangam and they concentrated on internal social reform: attempting to ban liquor consumption, meat eating at social functions, and the abolition of the devadasi system. This group also found itself in conflict with the traditional caste called ‘Chanduris’ who were the overseers of the Malas, and throughout the 1920s there were attempts to reform this oppressive system. This development was partly due to the formation of a Dalit middle class which began to enter social life. The radicalization among dalits throughout south India brought with it an Adi-Hindu ideology. In 1924 Ariga Ramaswamy formed the Adi-Hindu Jatiyyonati Sabha and Bhagyareddy Varma transformed his Manya Sangam into the Adi-Hindu Social Service League. This became the main organization of the dalits of Hyderabad.44 As T.V. Narayana, a dalit leader said, ‘In the 1920s, generally in Telangana, dalits used to work in the

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reformist organization of Arya Samaj that had worked against the conversion of poor people into Christianity and for conducting inter-caste marriage, mixed dining facilities, free education to the poor people, widow remarriage, etc. As a result, there were no conversions into Christianity in the region of Telangana-as there were in the Andhra region’.45

II.3 Socio-economic Status of the Scheduled Castes in Telangana Sub-region In the Andhra sub-region, the status of dalits is comparatively better than the status of dalits in Telangana. The atrocities against dalits in Psundur, Vempenta and Karamchedu stand as examples of increasing dalit repression in Andhra. These violent acts against the Dalit communities were intended to suppress the growing awareness among them which posed certain questions to the well-established hierarchical order of the upper castes, and were a threat to well entrenched class collaborations. In the case of Telangana, the dalit sections continue their struggle for a dignified existence even today owing to prevailing economic conditions. As mentioned earlier, the dalit sections under the Nizam’s rule were subjected to vetti practices. It was compulsory for every family to send a man from their home to work in a feudal lord’s house. Though the Nizam’s days are over and India has entered the 21st century, this feudal legacy persists in the Telangana villages. Because of unfavorable agricultural conditions and poor irrigation facilities, agricultural workers get employment for only four months a year. Vetti (forced labour) thus became one of the options to cope with the financial crisis. Sending smaller children to vetti in return for the money borrowed from the village moneylenders for medical and other emergencies are also in vogue. A survey done by an NGO, Deccan Development Society (1996), among 55 villages reveals that 553 children and 783 adults still work as vetti labourers in Medak district itself. 46 Atrocities carried out on the dalit sections are reported in the newspapers regularly. There are also humiliations like the ‘two glass system’47 in restaurants, and atrocities such as dalits being burnt alive under the excuse that they are practicing witchcraft. These are still commonly seen in the rural parts of Telangana48. In short dalits are denied their rights as human beings. The following cases indicate the state of Dalit rights and the growing self-assertion of Dalit youth.

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III Case 1: Assertion of Dalits in Psundur In Psundur village an upper caste mob attacked some assertive dalits and brutally killed eight of them in 1989. Some of their bodies were cut into pieces and some of their dead bodies were thrown into the river. The level of brutality was unprecedented. This was followed by a sustained struggle for justice. It went up to the judiciary and the dalits succeeded in setting up a separate court in the village where the massacre took place. The hearing started in the month of August 1991 and went on till July 31 2007 when the judgment was given. The Public Prosecutor who argued for the dalits held that one major issue was the ‘propaganda’ by the ‘fascist hindutva forces’ in favour of the upper castes that were responsible for the Psundur massacre. It is to be noted that as on today the 7 accused are still free and 33 witnesses and 33 of the accused have passed away as there was a delay in the judgment. 123 members were released on the grounds of innocence, only 21 of the accused have been given the life sentence (imprisonment) and 30 members were given one year’s imprisonment each. It took 16 years to deliver the judgment. The partial success in getting justice is an outcome of dalit, civil liberties and human rights movements. The issue of solidarity of the movements becomes extremely crucial in shaping and reshaping the agenda, the political discourse of the dalit movement and in evolving the strategy of transformation. It also determines the nature of social transformation in times to come. The special court did not consider the Psundur case as a trailblazer and held that those who were killed by the upper castes were not harijans or from the Scheduled Castes. The Division Bench felt so on the grounds that their names were not typical dalit names as they were drawn from the bible. The response of the state and the dominant section of the civil society fell short of the expectations of dalits. From the beginning of the incident till the delivery of the judgment, the state was not firmly in favour of the dalits. This negative disposition of the state strengthens the dalit argument that the only alternative is to continue the struggle. Gopal Guru argues that the role of the state in protecting the human dignity of the dalits is unsatisfactory. It has not been able to stop the practice of untouchability49. Jean Dreze feels that just as the consciousness of dalits is growing, the atrocities are also growing in magnitude50.

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The state and its administrative apparatus can play a positive role but the experience is totally contrary to the expectations. The entire law-enforcing agency has no respect whatsoever for the law, not to speak of safeguarding the civil rights of the dalits. The Psundur massacre happened as the dalits of these districts were better educated, more assertive and conscious of their identity than the dalit communities of other regions or other districts. Hence, Balagopal argues that the younger generation from this region started rejecting social and political subordination to the forward castes. It is this socially and politically effective advancement and assertiveness of the dalits that the forward castes find intolerable, and this resulted in the massacre of the dalits in Psundur. Thorat argues that there are established techniques adopted by a section of the dominant castes to reinforce their superior power over the dalits when they question the existing system in which they suffer for centuries, or assert their rights. It generally occurs with more force when upper castes feel threatened or when the status quo is challenged by the dalits seeking basic human rights. Haragopal holds that education could enhance the status of the dalits socially, economically and politically and lead to equalizing opportunities, thereby deepening democratic foundations, and strengthening social harmony.51

Case 2: Dalit Self-Assertion in the Village of Jhadimalkapur The Durgamma Jatra festival held in Jhadimalkapur village in Medak District every three years involves the slaughter of 35 to 40 buffaloes. The same dalit family in that village has been forced to perform the animal sacrifice for generations. On the festival day the chosen member of the family is supposed to use a huge knife weighing nearly five kilograms to kill each buffalo in less than four minutes. This job has to be completed in ten hours. The person who performs it is also thrashed severely with sticks if he fails to finish the task on time, or if he makes any noise while performing it. After killing the animals he has to carve the animals into pieces and finally bury the remains. These go into pits dug, filled and covered up by members of the dalit community. There is no payment for this work. Recently one of the family’s youth, Rathnam, refused to perform the sacrifice. Rathnam did not believe in the ritual. One of a very few young and educated Dalit youth in this village, he said ‘we dalits have traditionally been forced to perform the animal sacrifice for generations’. Rathnam said his father was already in his sixties; he had done the

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slaughtering job for 18 years. The father could not take the strain any more and moreover, he had never enjoyed performing the ceremony. Rathnam also said: ‘It would have meant slaughtering 35-40 buffaloes in two and a half hours’. He also regarded it as something imposed on his family merely because they were dalits. He urged his fellow dalits not to participate in it. In 1993, Rathnam stayed away from the village and avoided assisting in the ceremony. According to his account, he didn’t dare enter the village for six months after. When he did, no one spoke to him, not even other codalits. They were afraid. Some of the dalits also believed in the ritual. After some time, Rathnam had no option except to resume this slaughter. In 1996, at the time of the Durgamma Jatra festival, the leaders of the upper castes approached him again. Rathnam was then working as a compounder (assistant to doctor) in a nursing home in Zaheerabad townthe mandal headquarter of his village. Rathnam had not changed his views. His family supported him. The upper caste leaders sent for him and insisted that he had to perform the ceremony. Rathnam informed the collector and the superintendent of police of the problem. This angered the village elite. On May 12, they summoned his family in Jhadimalkapur and warned them: ‘tell us by this evening whether he (Rathnam) will kill the buffaloes or not. If he does not do so, your son will not live much longer’. At that time, Rathnam used to commute from Zaheerabad to his village by bus. That day his mother sent his younger brother to inform him not to come home, so he did not. The same night, approximately one hundred people from the upper castes went to his home drunk and abused his family late at night. Rathnam’s family was isolated. Even a few Scheduled Caste community people expressed their view that as ‘we depend on the upper castes so much, how can we confront them?’ Then the upper-caste visitors went away, and a caste panchayat (council-ed) was held. The verdict was swift. The whole family was boycotted. Anyone speaking to them would face 25 beatings with chappals (footwear/slippers-ed) and pay a fine of Rs. 5000. This was the only family in the village which disobeyed the tradition. Due to pressures emanating from both religion and upper caste hegemony, the whole community did not support Rathnam’s position. One of the respondents, a relative of Rathnam, said that this profession had been going on for ages. The Scheduled Caste people of the village had been given 10 acres of land as Eenam land in return for doing this work. He

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added they should do this job as a part of village rituals. The upper caste leaders of the village asked one of Rathnam’s relatives, Nagappa, to perform the ritual. Rathnam again informed the collector and the superintendent of police. The latter warned the villagers against such a practice. Soon after there was an attempt to murder members of Rathnam’s family. Therefore, they moved out of Jhadimalkapur village to Zaheerabad.52 As May 31st, the day of the sacrifice, approached things heated up. The whole village was tense and anxiously waited to see what would happen. Even a television crew from Hyderabad visited the village, hoping to catch the event on camera. The members of the crew were severely beaten, which caused uproar in the state legislature. A police picket at the village was also attacked. Cases were filed against 19 upper caste people and some backward class persons. But powerful networks were soon mobilized. Narsimha Reddy (Ex-MLA of Zaheerabad) and others held a protest in front of the police station. Reddy was the supporter of the thenmember of parliament who remained in the background but supported the upper castes. The protest was directed against police repression. The police arrested the protesters but released them shortly afterward. The upper caste people of Rathnam’s village waited to kill him, but he escaped. Thereafter, there was tension in the village and Rathnam’s father died after four months. This entire movement took place under the banners of DAFODAM, Ambedkar Youvajana Sangam and the A. P. Study Circle of Zaheerabad under the leadership of Ananthaiah (activist and lecturer and principle at Jogipet), Ramchander Bheemvamshi (artist and teacher (at Zaheerabad), Narsimulu (activist and teacher at Zaheerabad) and other local and state dalit leaders. Due to the powerful movement to counter this practice and to promote the protection of Dalit rights, the government promised three acres of land, a house, and a job to Rathnam who had consistently opposed this particular vetti or forced labour. Therefore this protest was also against vetti. But as of now, the government has not fulfilled its promises. Many associations, NGOs and political parties congratulated Rathnam for his refusal to take part in the superstition of animal sacrifice. The Arya Samaj, Mrs. Menaka Gandhi and other public bodies and persons expressed their appreciation. Rathnam is staying in Zaheerabad in a rented house, and has converted to Christianity. However, no organization or individual has helped him materially. The movement has also started

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addressing environmental degradation as well as Dalit dignity. Also, many people seem not to have understood that Rathnam’s movement was for self-respect, dignity, and freedom from forced labour53.

Case 3: Assertion of a Dalit student in the Allapur Village The village of Allapur is located nine kilometers from the mandal head quarter, Narayanakhed, in Medak district. There is no paved road to this village. Here, it is primarily the Reddy and the Balija castes (about 135 families) who wield political, economic and social power. There are thirty Dalit families. All the upper castes people own 30-40 acres of land but most dalits do not have land, and those who do usually have about an acre. Because they lack land, the Dalits work on the estates of the upper castes. As wages, Dalit women get fifteen rupees and Dalit men get thirty rupees per day. They have nowhere to go: among the scheduled castes, there are only six members who are highly educated, meaning that they have studied up to 10th class, intermediate and graduation. The other dalits work as labourers, (without taking any money) and do forced labour in the houses and the lands of the upper caste and Backward Classes. In this village, many discriminatory practices are common, including the twoglass system, the denial of entry into temples, and the denial of the right to wear chappals. The Dalits are expected to follow blindly whatever the upper caste people order. With growing access to education, some Dalit youths started questioning the entrenched practices of the oppressive Hindu social hierarchy.54 In 1995, one Dalit student B. Tukaram, entered the Hanuman Temple, and this event triggered a social boycott of dalit families by the upper castes in the village. Tukaram was educated; he had passed the intermediate examinations (prior to college) at the Andhra Pradesh Social Welfare School (APSWR), at Hathnoora, Medak District. He went to the temple to perform a puja by breaking a coconut to invoke the blessings of God for passing his intermediate exams. The strong belief of the upper caste residents of this village, however, was that the Dalits are untouchables and therefore they should not enter the temple and offer prayers. Tukaram’s act was construed as an offense to upper caste beliefs. Enraged by this, the village elders called for a panchayat and decided to boycott 26 dalit families in the village. In the panchayat held by the upper castes, Tukaram’s parents apologized to the upper caste representatives, but Tukaram was not willing to apologize and neither did he agree to their demand that he touch their feet. From the next day on, Dalits were not

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allowed to visit restaurants or shops, or use the bore wells to get water. Even the domestic animals of the dalits were not allowed to pass through the streets in the village. If Dalits violated these sanctions, they had to pay Rs 500 as fine and be beaten with slippers. The Dalits notified the Ambedkar Yuvajana Sangam in Narayanakhed. Leaders of the association visited the village to find out the particulars about the social boycott. They met both the upper caste people and the dalits. Both agreed to a compromise. But on the very same day, the upper caste people met under the guidance of the school teacher, who was from the Reddy community, and unanimously decided to continue the social boycott. The incident had taken place on May 24th 2005, but the local police or district administration did not know about the incident in Allapur village till the media (electronic and print) covered the news. When the media visited to cover the news the upper caste people openly told them that they had socially boycotted the dalits, as entry into a Hindu temple by a dalit was against the Hindu tradition.55 After the media’s coverage, the entire population of the district and state were informed about the Allapur social boycott. Thereafter, dalit organizations demanded the initiation of legal proceedings against the upper caste men, and extension of welfare schemes to the socially boycotted. Later, several political leaders and district administrators visited Allapur village. They included Justice Punnaiah, the District Collector, the Superintendent of Police, Raghavulu, C.P.I. (M) General Secretary, Nalla Surya Prakash (BSP), and others. At last the police filed cases against the upper caste people. After twenty days of social boycott, some unidentified persons hacked Govind Reddy (40), a farmer, to death in Allapur village. The victim was one of the 20 persons who had been arrested in connection with the boycotting of Scheduled Caste persons. Due to pressure by local political leaders, the police filed charges against the Dalits of the village, following the murder of Govind Reddy. Twenty Dalits were arrested. In reality, Govind Reddy was murdered by his own brother due to a land dispute. This came out in the interrogation conducted by the district Superintendent of Police. The state-level Dalit organizations staged protests against the filing of the cases against the Dalits. Several political parties, activists of KNPS, N.G.Os, civil society groups, democrats and human rights activists raised their voices. C.P.I (M) and T.R.S sent factfinding committees to Allapur village. In the Legislative Assembly members pressurized the government to distribute lands, announce financial assistance to construct houses for Dalits and to also offer

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financial assistance to those Dalits who were socially boycotted. Although the Government agreed to provide financial assistance for small houses, they have yet to extend any sort of assistance to the Dalits.56 These three cases indicate how Dalits are becoming conscious of their rights. As Dalits are exposed to the larger world through higher education, which has become possible through reservation, they have been able to move forward. Increasingly, they want to live with dignity and selfrespect, and do not want to submit to anybody. The Psundur (also sometimes called Chundur) case and others such as the Karachedu, and Vempeta incidents of oppression not covered here are not only a result of upper caste power but also indicative of changing Dalit consciousness in movements in Andhra Pradesh. The growing self-assurance indicates that Dalits from coastal regions are increasingly educated, assertive and conscious of their rights. As they had an early exposure to education, they are able to challenge the evils of the social system. Balagopal observed that the younger generation has started rejecting the social and political subordination to the forward castes. This kind of attitude on the part of dalits was intolerable to the forward castes. It led to assaults on 17 members from the Dalit community in Psundur. As a result, the Dalits of Psundur in Andhra Pradesh have started a massive movement.57

Conclusion The cases discussed in this paper highlight the aspirations of young, educated Dalits. Actions like theirs may accentuate the process of social transformation, despite the hazards and hardships that are inherent in this transition from subjugation to dignity and freedom which Ambedkar postulated as necessary conditions for substantive democracy. Both Rathnam and Tukaram dared to defy what they perceived as oppressive practices as a result of their growing democratic consciousness. Another reason for their decision might have been that while they were attending government colleges they might have realized, in course of interaction with their friends, that they were being treated in an inhuman way by the upper castes. The government enacted the SC and ST (prevention of Atrocities Act 1989) Act under which special courts have been set up at the district level. The nation should enlarge the space for each culture for its diverse development and in the areas of social, economic, educational, and other activities. These are all necessary, as the Dalit community has been kept

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away from sources of both social and economic status for a significant time, a fact which is used to justify the Dalits’ economic and social backwardness.58 Atrocities against dalits are not new. The eminent Dalit scholar Gopal Guru observed that the violation of dalit human rights through violence against the dalit community flows from the conservative ideology and political apparatus of the Hindutva forces. He also argued that when this ideology is coupled with the demand for Dalit status, the result is a violation of the human dignity of dalits. The ideology of untouchability is based on a concept of the ‘purity/pollution line’ and justifies practices discriminating against Dalits.59 These are established techniques adopted by a section of the dominant castes to reinforce their superiority over dalits. The ideology gains particular prominence when upper castes feel threatened or the status quo is challenged by the dalits seeking basic human rights.60 A number of instances from different parts of the country show that it is Dalit men and women who become the target for uppercaste violence when they dare to protest against the infringement of their rights. The Karamchedu Massacre, the Psundur carnage, and the Kirlanji rapes are a few instances of this trend. As Thorat argues, Dalits who question upper-caste norms are also subjected to subtle but no less oppressive tactics including social ostracism: Dalits find that their access to work, land, credit, merchandise and public facilities may suddenly be cut off. Since the upper castes control the rural economy, it is difficult for Dalits to assert their rights without jeopardizing their livelihood.61 Gopal Guru argues that the role of the state in protecting the human dignity of the Dalits is unsatisfactory in the sense that it has not been able to stop the practice of untouchability.62 The state response to violence against Dalits has not been as supportive toward Dalits as the law seems to envisage. The Indian Constitution guarantees certain rights to all citizens and places upon the state an additional charge to protect and serve the interests of the poorest and most socially disadvantaged groups so that they may gradually attain positive liberty. But in reality, crimes against Dalits rarely result in conviction, owing to the state’s failure to investigate and prosecute such offences. State authorities generally ignore the provisions of the acts in carrying out investigations. The cases mentioned here show how this dereliction of duty happens and how, by siding with the upper castes at key points in caste conflicts, police and other state officials sabotage Dalit mobilization and subvert the course of justice. Although the state has carefully legislated to protect the rights of Dalits, these legal provisions are

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not enforced because the administration is caste-biased, as Thorat pointed out.63 But, the furor raised by these cases enumerated here are further evidence of the overall trend towards democratization. The aspirations of dalits as articulated by Phule and Ambedkar can only be fulfilled when subjects assert their rights by raising their voices against centuries-old oppressions in the name of tradition and custom. The cases pointedly make clear that, unless civil society come to the rescue of the oppressed, social transformation and Dalit upliftment will remain a distant dream. Tentative promises by the government and other organizations which are never realized in real terms can only aggravate social oppression and human degradation. Only a sincere effort from educated Dalits, the government and civil societies can realize Ambedkar’s dream of achieving liberty, equality and fraternity. Despite the Indian constitution’s solemn commitment to freedom to redeem oppressed groups such as Dalits from all bondage, forced labour, atrocities and all other forms of exploitation, the practical enforcement of this policy remains a distant dream. The Dalits remain the most exploited section in Indian society. To overcome this kind of oppression, S.R. Sankaran64 has suggested measures for enhancing the quality of Dalit rights that include land restructuring, better wages, equitable shares in emerging opportunities and well-targeted socio-economic programmes backed by effective implementation of special laws in their favour rather than ‘safety nets’ or measures with a ‘human face’. Many parties have started preparing an action plan encompassing various aspects like compulsory education, common education schools, provision of irrigation sources to Dalit families for the cultivation of lands, and involving Dalits in decisionmaking. As a result, many political parties today have initiated efforts to bring out a Dalit empowerment policy and have promised to give three acres of land per family to the nearly 10-lakh Dalit families in the Telangana region. Several political parties have also promised to fight for reservations in the private sector to ensure that Dalits are not discriminated against in the employment market. It can be concluded that, although democratic and independent India has generated enabling conditions permitting Dalits to occupy the offices of power, there has not yet been any significant change in their socio-political status at the grassroots level. On the contrary, the patronizing tendencies of co-option and the marginalization of assertive or potentially assertive

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Dalits by dominant castes, classes and parties have subjugated Dalit selfassertion, resulting in the perpetuation of upper caste hegemony. Dalit political self-activism has to be able to dismantle these social cobwebs so that Dalits can enjoy the fruits of democracy in their own right, without any patronage. I argue here is that it is the responsible of Dalits, Dalit intellectuals, and administrators of the Dalit community to create the awareness among Dalits about rights, self-respect, dignity and decent life. Not merely Dalits but also the civil society associations should play an important role in making Dalits into active citizens and thereby transforming Indian society.

Notes 1

This paper is a revised version of the paper read at Resistances and Futures, organized by the Law and Society Association, U.S. at Berlin July 27-31, 2007. 2 Group of villages 3 Indian political activist, legal scholar and chairman of the drafting committee of the Indian constitution after independence. 4 R.D.M. Mourya, 2004, ‘Human Rights Violations and Atrocities on Dalits’, (in Gopal Singh and Ravindra Gadkar ed) Restoration of Human Rights to and Dignity to Dalits: With special reference to scavengers in India, Books Publications, New Delhi, 5 Imposed by Prime Minister Smt. Indira Gandhi in 1975. 6 K. Srinivas, 2002, Caste, Class and Social Articulation in A.P: Mapping Different Regional Trajectories, Overseas Development Institute, London: 1-6. 7 They ruled the state which comprised Telangana, Bidar, and Mysore. 8 Md. Tajuddin, 2004, Role of State and NGOs in issues of Food Security: A Case Study of DDS, Medak District, Unpublished Dissertation, Centre for Regional Studies, University of Hyderabad: 5- 6. 9 Ibid. 10 The demand for Telangana state took place when Andhra Pradesh was formed as a separate state in 1956. 11 Formal democracy. 12 Jean Dreze, 2005, ‘Dr. Ambedkar and the Future of India’s Democracy’, Indian Journal of Human Rights, Vol. 5: 1. 13 Ibid.: 2 14 Ibid.: 3 15 Ibid. : 2. 16 Ibid. : 5. 17 Ramaiah Avatti, 2005, ‘Cultural Diversity Acclaimed but Social and Economic Diversity Ignored: The Caste of Dalits in India’, The International Journal of Diversity in Organizations, Communities and Nations, Vol. 5: 1-4.

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These Acts were enacted to end caste system and untouchability in India D.D. Basu, 2001, Introduction to the Indian Constitution, New Delhi, Wadha and Company Law Publications: 136. 20 Avatti, 2005, op. cit. : 1-4. 21 Rajni Kothari, 1989, State against Democracy: In search of Humane Governance, New Delhi, Ajanta Books, International Publications. 22 Kothari, 1989: 31-32. 23 Material, Human Rights Distance Education, Delhi: 3. 24 Rajendra Vora, and Suhas Palshikar, 2004, Indian Democracy: Meanings and Practices, New Delhi, Sage Publications. 25 Vora and Palshikar, 2004: 130. 26 Kothari, 1989, op. cit. : 31-32. 27 Srinivas, 1992, op cit. : 1-6 28 James Massey, 1997, Down Trodden: The Struggle of India’s Dalits for Identity, Solidarity and Liberation, Switzerland WCC Publication: 1. 29 C.B. John Webster, 1999, ‘Who Is a Dalit?’ in S.M. Michael, ed., Dalits In Modern India: Vision And Values, New Delhi Vistaar Publications: 68. 30 Mourya, 2004, op. cit. : 77-78. 31 G. Haragopal, 2002, ‘Rights of Dalits: Law and Reality, Indian Journal of National Human Rights Commission, New Delhi, vol. I: 133-134. 32 Raj Kumar, 2000, ‘Dalit Culture: A Perspective from Below’, Social Action, Vol.50, no. 1, Jan-March: 17. 33 B. Jagannatham, paper presented paper on “Democracy and Human Rights: Values and Reality” in the national seminar on ‘Indian Democracy in the Era of Globalization’, organized by the Department of Political Science, Sri Venkateshwara University Tirupathi, on 3-4 December-2006. 34 Avatti, 2005, op. cit. : 1-4. 35 Committed retired I.A.S. (Indian Administrative Service) officer 36 G. Haragopal, and Chandrasekhar Rao, B, 2000, ‘Dalit Consciousness in Andhra: A Hypothesis’, Indian Journal of Human Rights, Vol. 4, No. 1 & 2: 137145. 37 Lata Murugkar, 1991, Dalit Panther Movement in Maharastra: A Sociological Appraisal, Bombay, Popular Publications: 1. 38 Sukhadeo Thorat, 2000, ‘Human Rights of Ex untouchables in India: Violations and Enforcement’, Indian Journal of Human Rights, Vol. 4, Nos. 1&2. 39 Report, 2006, National Campaign on Dalit Human Rights, New Delhi : 5 40 G. Nancharaiah, 2001, ‘Development Policy and Social Change with reference to scheduled Castes’, R. M. Pal, (ed). Human Rights of Dalits Societal Violation, New Delhi, Gyan Publishers: 53. 41 Lata Murugukar, 1991, op. cit.: 105. 42 Interview (11th September 2006) with P.R. Venakataswamy, an activist at Hyderabad. 43 Gail Omvedt, 1994, Dalits and Democratic Revolution: Dr. Ambedkar and the Dalit Movement in India, New Delhi, Sage Publications: 121-122. 44 Ibid. 19

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Interview with T.V. Narayana, Dalit activist, dated on 15.09.2006 at Hyderabad. Source: http://www.carped.org/project.php: Centre for Action Research and People’s Development. 47 Separate glasses for the dalits. After having the tea, they have to clean the glasses by themselves even though they pay same amount of money as the other upper castes pay. 48 Suneeta Eluri, 2003, Political Responses to Right to Development: A Case study of Telangana, Unpublished M.Phil Dissertation to the University of Hyderabad: 34-35. 49 Gopal Guru, 1997, ‘Ambedkar’s Idea of Social Justice’, in Ajit Bhattacharjea ed. Social Justice and the Constitution, Shimla, IIAS. 50 Jean Dreze, 2005, op. cit. 51 K. Balagopal, 1991, ‘Post-Psundur and other Psundurs’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 26, No. 42: 2397-2399. 52 Interview (1st September 2006) with Rathnam (victim) at Zaheerabad. 53 Interview (13th September 2006) with B. Ananthaiah- Lecturer and principle Govt. Degree college Jogipet and Dalit activist, Medak district at Zaheerabad. 54 Tudum Rajender, Velivesina Allapur Dalitulapi Akrama Hatya Kesula? Pratigatana,(Counterreaction) KVPS, Hyderabad: 12. 55 Interview with Tukaram- victim (17th September, 2006) in Allapur village, Narayanakhed Mandal, Andhra Pradesh, India 56 Interview with Sailu. B (school teacher from Narayanakhed) on 25th September 2006 at Narayanakhed. 57 K. Balagopal, 1991, op. cit.: 2399. 58 Avatti, 2005, op. cit. : 6. 59 Gopal Guru, 2001, ‘Human Rights and the Dalits’, in R. M. Pal Bhargava (ed) Human Rights of Dalits Societal Violation, New Delhi, Gyan Publishing House: 40. 60 Sukhadeo Thorat, Ghansham Shah, Sathesh Desh Pande and Amita Baviskar, 2006, Untouchability in Rural India, New Delhi Sage Publications: 133. 61 Ibid. : 137-138, 62 , Gopal Guru 2001, op. cit.: 41. 63 Thorat, 2000, op. cit.: 147. 64 Retired I.A.S. (Indian Administrative Service) officer. 46

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN THE ROLE OF NGOS IN THE DEVELOPMENT OF TRIBAL PEOPLES: A CASE STUDY FROM A SOUTH INDIAN TRIBAL SETTLEMENT ESWARAPPA KASI

Introduction This article examines the impact of developmental efforts, especially in the dry regions, made by the non-government agencies to bring desired socio-economic changes in the lives of marginalized tribal communities in Andhra Pradesh. The analysis is made in the context of changes that have taken place in the very concept of development and the shifts of responsibility by the welfare state. Till the emergence of the new economic policy of Government of India and the subsequent liberalization of economic policies it was felt that the responsibilities of a welfare state must be not only as regulator but also provider of infrastructure so that the poor are freed from the cycle of poverty (Gupta, 2004:1-5). This new development opened the floodgates for the entry of local, international non-government organisations (NGO’s) as benefactors to the poor alongside the state. Meanwhile the meaning of the concept of development also changed. It is in this context that the present paper attempts to understand the impact of developmental efforts, undertaken in drought prone areas, made by an NGO called Social Education Development Society (SEDS) on the Sugalis, a nomadic tribe, in a village called Adadakulapalle in Anantapur District of Andhra Pradesh, South India. With this background, the paper analyses development processes in Adadakulapalle village, inhabited by the Sugali tribal group in Anantapur district of Andhra Pradesh.

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Baviskar (2001) has rightly mentioned that the decline of the state is accompanied by an increasing attention towards civil society institutions. Among the social groups and associations of various kinds that are considered to make up civil society, non-governmental organizations (NGOs) have become especially prominent in the last two decades. Nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) have emerged around the world notably in the developing world - as major players in the developmental action (Meyer, 1996: 453). Given the profound implications of NGO involvement in development, there is a great need to critically examine the changing relations between NGOs, state agencies, multilateral and bilateral funding institutions, and other social groups. The NGO sector in India is characterized by tremendous diversity and heterogeneity. Ignoring this diversity, unfounded generalizations are often put forward and unfair comments and criticisms are offered. NGOs differ from one another in size, in funding, in functions; in the levels at which they operate; and in organizational structures, goals and membership (quoted in Baviskar, 2001: 4-5). In India, there are 14,000 NGOs registered under the Foreign Contributions Regulation Act. In all there may be over 30,000 NGOs in India. The close collaboration between academics and the NGOs’ practical work is one of the reasons for the absence of rigorous studies on them. Indian social scientists have close links with NGOs, and since many NGOs operate in the cross-disciplinary space between academic research and activist intervention, they offer to academics many opportunities to pursue their work into the domain of non-academic practice. There are many definitions of NGOs. The voluntary sector includes nongovernmental, non-profit organizations. They may be engaged in a variety of activities: implementing grassroots/sustainable development, promoting human rights and social justice, protesting against environmental degradation, and many other similar tasks. Baviskar (ibid) has rightly mentioned that some activists resent and reject the term non-governmental organization and instead designate themselves as social action groups, political action groups or social movements. Anna Hazare’s village development group at Ralegan Siddhi in Maharashtra and Ela R. Bhatt’s Self-Employed Women’s Association (SEWA) in Gujarat are both identified as NGOs but are very different from each other in terms of size, membership, funding, approaches, strategies and outcomes. I quote from Baviskar (2001) who also said that while there are many definitions of NGOs, there are several classifications too. Shah and Chaturvedi (1983) divide NGOs in three main categories: techno-

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managerial, reformist, and radical. Hirway (1995) classified NGOs in Gujarat into welfare-oriented, development organizations, and empowering NGOs. Iyengar (1998) classified NGOs in Gujarat into four categories: Gandhian, service delivery organizations, professional organizations, and mobilizational organizations. There are studies which explain that the link between NGO, CBO (capacity building organizations), Civil Society and DWCRA is cordial and successful all over India and most so in Andhra Pradesh. Andhra Pradesh’s role in the country is highest in the SHG’s and NGO’s and they are acting as good agents of the development. Nametra (1995) has rightly said that the NGOs could only facilitate the undertaking of subsistence activities, and income from such activities was either equal to or less than the existing wage income. These activities made a difference to the people in so far as they could be undertaken during the lean season and that the problem of seasonal unemployment could be, to some extent, solved (Radhakrishna and Ray, 2005). In Andhra Pradesh, we have different districts where different NGO’s and CBO’s are working actively among the people of the marginalized sections. In Anantapur, we have some NGOs working for the development of the weaker sections. Here we can refer to the Rural Development Trust, which is all over the district except in two mandals, i.e., Penukonda and Hindupur. Two other NGOs are working in these two mandals. Likewise we have the Social Education and Development Society (SEDS) in Penukonda, in the Anantapur District of Andhra Pradesh.

Village Setting The village under study is situated in the Penukonda Mandal in Anantapur district of Andhra Pradesh, South India and is about 10 kilometres away from Penukonda, the Mandal headquarters. Adadakulapalle is a multicaste village consisting of 439 households of which 155 (35.6 %) of the households belong to the Sugali a Scheduled Tribe, who form a separate constituent of the village. The habitations of the Sugali are called Thandas. Anthropologists are familiar with these multi-caste villages from the writings of M.N. Srinivas, Mckim Marriot and others. However, there are multi-castes villages which also incorporate the tribal populations (S.C. Dube) and Adadakulapalle is one such village (Eswarappa, 2005).

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The Thanda under study is included in Adadakulapalle village Panchayat of Penukonda Mandal. The Sugalis are divided into two thandas and known as Jalapalle Thanda or Patha Thanda (old Thanda) and Kothapalle Thanda (new Thanda) and two members represent one each from these wards in the Adadakulapalle Panchayat. The Adadakulapalle Panchayat is reserved for the Sugalis. Kothapalle Thanda is a new colony of houses built during the earlier Congress rule during 1989-94 in the same old Thanda area. The inhabitants of the Thandas belong to two different clans and the clan members live separately. Further, these two clans are affiliated to two different factions of the main village, who incidentally belong to two different political parties. In Adadakulapalle the majority of the Sugalis are small and marginal farmers. The type of land available in the village is dry land and only one Sugali farmer has a tube (bore) well in his land as against 90 bore wells owned by other castes in the village and the rest of the Sugalis depend upon the monsoon for water. The major crops cultivated are groundnut, ragi and paddy. Ragi and Paddy are the staple crops and they constitute the staple diet of the farmers and agricultural labourers.

Table No 1 Distribution of Households by Caste/Community Sl. No 1

Type of House

Stone Houses 2 Mud Houses 3 Huts Total

Type of Castes (No. of Households) Scheduled Tribe 98

Scheduled Caste 46

Backward Castes 113

Other Castes 75

Total

28

10

21

---

59

29 155

04 60

15 149

--75

48 439

332

The livelihoods activities of the Sugalis are cultivation, followed by daily wage works, and petty business (running their own and rented auto rickshaws and kirana (provisions) shop and hotel (tea and tiffin stall). The majority of them depends on agricultural labour, construction or repair works in and outside the village. Since the type of land available is dry land, they have to depend upon the monsoon for their cultivation. Frequent failures of the monsoons make the people migrate to other areas. People

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from the Thanda explained that seasonal migration is high in the area as the majority of them are marginal farmers and landless agricultural labourers. Almost half of the households in the Thanda migrate to towns in the off-season, according to the Gram Panchayat Sarpanch (head-ed). One informant stated that they are helpless and there is no other way except to migrate to other areas. Some of them have settled in the towns leaving their old members in the Thanda and support them by their remittances. Younger people migrate to towns in the off season and come back to Thanda during rainy season, to cultivate land or to work as farm labourers. Agriculture is their main source of livelihood followed by agricultural labour and seasonal migration. Cattle, goat, and sheep are the major livestock in the area. Several varieties of grass along with stocked paddy straw; maize stalk, groundnut and bhoosa are used as fodder. Individual households raise country chicken in their houses. Since five years they have not had one good crop due to drought in the area and their lives and livelihoods have been threatened. Even when they get any yields, they are low and are also affected by the vagaries of the market. This further aggravates their poverty in the village. People who suffer most from crop failures have no option but to migrate leaving women, children and the old in the village. Sometimes they do not get even a square meal in a day. Women face severe stress due to the migration of male members of the family. They have to take care of children as well as older people, in addition to cattle. As stated by some of the elderly Sugalis, some of the youth, who are educated remain idle at home without any work. They hesitate to go for wage work available in the area and have become a burden to their parents.

Epigrammatic Background of SEDS in the Area In 1980, with six years of nonprofit work in the Indian state of Andhra Pradesh already under his belt, Rajen Joshua set out to register his own NGO and the Social Education and Development Society (SEDS) was born. With the help of his wife and eight friends he established a central campus on a farm in the village of Anandapuram and began working with the local population towards improved community organization. Twentyone years later it has blossomed to employ 35 full-time staff, to organize 60 village health workers (soon to be more than 100) and to provide often day labour for up to 500 people. Its programs have expanded from simple community organization to include large-scale watershed programmes,

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child sponsorship, village health, and community and women’s empowerment programmes serving 120 villages with more than 100,000 people. Though SEDS’s initial work focused on community organization, this soon evolved into efforts to deal with issues that were perceived to lie at the heart of the area’s problems. The Anantapur District of Andhra Pradesh is still the second most drought-prone Indian region. When SEDS arrived, massive deforestation and intense population pressure on the land and its natural resources had significantly contributed to the widespread hunger and general poverty experienced by the local population (Eswarappa and Siva Prasad, 2005). In response, SEDS began an environmental campaign in 1984 that would soon be transformed into its principle program. The degradation of soil and depletion of surface water in the open wells used by villages made it clear that something had to be done. SEDS’s initial efforts therefore included homestead plantations, revival of tamarind orchards and community wood lots. By increasing the overall number of trees, SEDS was able to check erosion and begin recharging a water table that had fallen dramatically. In conjunction with kitchen gardens and individual plantations that provided means for subsistence and income generation, community awareness slowly began to increase and the first signs of acceptance by the local population emerged. At the same time that these efforts took root, their interrelation with community issues such as organization and mobilization became increasingly apparent and SEDS began to redirect and expand its efforts in this area. In 1988 the group began Participatory Rural Appraisals (PRAs) which consisted of direct consultation with villagers before any watershed work was initiated in their community. Input was gathered from the people who both knew the land best and would be the future beneficiaries of any improvements made. In this manner, SEDS was able to assure maximum results and at the same time it built a solid rapport with villagers. Further reasoning behind this interaction came from SEDS’s continued focus on a pragmatic approach to its work that encouraged participatory development. Acknowledging the failure of simple charity to achieve long-term results, SEDS’s efforts relied on community involvement and the standard principle of ‘helping people to help themselves.’ When trees were given free as part of the initial drought-relief efforts, they were not

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cared for. It was soon discovered that such handouts were not valued and therefore not looked after once SEDS stopped supervising completed project areas. The group therefore began emphasizing sustainability through direct community involvement in its efforts and this has evolved as the central focus of nearly all its work. However SEDS’s efforts were hardly limited to watershed development. Health, children, education and awareness all received particular attention and developed into extensive programmes that helped define and round out the overall organization. By the mid-80’s SEDS had initiated its action in the health conditions of the people in the region. Rampant disease, high infant mortality and extremely poor sanitary conditions spurred the organization of extensive cleaning and educational efforts. Toilets were constructed and proper sanitation habits explained. Traditional village midwives were given basic medical training and using their skills, formed a network of village health workers. Eventually the farm built its own clinic and, in addition to its ongoing trainings, began holding health camps with licensed doctors from a hospital in Bangalore. These combined to substantially improve the conditions in an area very much in need of them (Eswarappa, 2006). Another crucial aspect of the health program, observed Eswarappa (2006), was its focus on children. Recognizing a high incidence of malnourishment, SEDS began a nutritional/kindergarten program for children under 5 years of age. Soon afterwards a widespread child sponsorship program was incorporated with the cooperation of Action Aid Australia, a group that had previously been involved with watershed funding. Eventually this came to also include a hostel on the SEDS farm in Anandapuram that cares for especially destitute children (primarily orphans or from oneparent families). Obviously with a stronger emphasis on children through its sponsorship program, it was imperative that SEDS involve itself in local educational issues. It began subsidizing teacher salaries at local schools and contributed to the construction of school buildings and facilities. These efforts within the villages allowed the group to tie together its community organization, watershed, children and educational programs so that interreliance began to form and each began to influence the others. Eswarappa and Siva Prasad (2005) felt that, as the web of its programs and their interactions steadily increased over the years, NGO/Civil Society was able to cement their standing in the region and expand their influence

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throughout the entire locality. With the achievements in each sphere, be it water development or improved health conditions, the respect that they earned from the local population gave them renewed strength and confidence to branch out into those areas they perceived to be in need. As with nearly all development ventures, things were not always so easy. Especially, in its initial phases, the organization lacked funding and supports both from within and outside the communities. But despite death threats, intense pressure to leave from other unreceptive NGO’s, severe funding shortages, and the continued challenges of trying to change an uneducated village mentality, the organization was able to not only survive but also to prosper. As the first signs of success began to appear in field after field, SEDS earned the respect and support of villagers and now draws one of its principal strengths from this fact. Without the understanding and acceptance by the local community it would never have been able to remain operational for more than 20 years. As this understanding and respect were steadily earned and its various programs continued to develop despite the numerous challenges the organization faced, SEDS evolved into the program it is today. Its health program has helped to eradicate virtually child malnourishment, improve significantly sanitation habits and decrease dramatically the child mortality rate. Its watershed program has planted nearly 10 million trees and helped bring about a rise of 38 feet in the regional water table. The children’s program boasts a hostel with 27 residents, a newly constructed school on the SEDS farm and the sponsorship of 67 local children (SEDS, 20022004). In a field of work with an extremely high turnover rate, SEDS’ accomplishments and sheer staying power are highly impressive. While most NGO’s prove to be fly-by-night operations SEDS has remained stationary and has been building on its base for more than two decades. Its consistency and pragmatic approach have built a powerful rapport both with donor agencies and local communities that facilitates its current projects and programs and assures that SEDS will continue to expand and assist a needy local population and environment. While SEDS has numerous accomplishments to which it can point, it is hardly resting on its laurels, and the future of the organization in many ways looks towards its initial goals. With a large expansion and continued focus on the Self-Help Groups (SHGs) that have become the central aspect

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of its community efforts, SEDS has begun focusing increasingly on the sustainability of its efforts and the transfer of responsibility to villagers. Through education and involvement it is attempting to create a situation whereby its direct involvement in local affairs would no longer be necessary and it would be able to play merely a consulting role to communities that take the initiative to realize the necessary reforms and improvements of their own accord.

Table No: 2 NGO undertaken works in the Village during 20012005* Name of the Activity Horticulture Wasteland Plantation Water Ponds Fire Tracing Check Dams De silting Gully Checks Soil Bunding Seed Dibbling Avenue Plantation

Total Area 100 Acres 250 Acres 68 32988.80sqm 4 25 50 Acres 50Kgs 4kms

Source: SEDS Office, Mekalapalle.

However the full accomplishment of this ideal is still some time off and though significant progress has been made, SEDS still remains committed to its functioning in the day-to-day work that consumes the region. Overseeing and organizing watershed developments, caring for desperate children, providing education and community support, and tending to the various basic health needs are still SEDS’s defining characteristics and will continue to be for some time to come. Through its efforts SEDS has made a significant impact, which is generally all that can be truly desired in development work. The problems of poverty and drought that plague the region will never be solved entirely, but through its work, and the work of other like-minded NGO’s, both the local environment and population have seen improvements that make the situation for today’s community far better than that in which SEDS found it when it arrived more than 20 year ago. In that respect, SEDS has been, and will hopefully continue to be, a huge success.

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Land Development Programme (LDP): Under this programme, Eswarappa and Siva Prasad (2005) observed that wastelands have been converted into agricultural fields through soil conservation. Soil conservation works include Stone bunding, Gully checks, Spill ways, Woodlots, fire tracing, ploughing, and trenching activities. All these works are undertaken in the summer season, which provides some wage works to the people of the village. Collecting contributions from the beneficiaries carries forward some of the works like stone bunding, ploughing, fire tracing, and trenching. The share is like this: NGO’s share is 75% and the beneficiary has to bear 25% of the total costs incurred for the works. The land development programme has benefited the Sugalis in the Thanda only to a certain extent. The implementation of the programme was initiated in 2001 and some benefits were derived in the following year. Subsequently, due to the failure of the monsoons, the programme did not take off. Moreover, as mentioned before, the majority of the Sugalis are landless and so this programme has not been of much relevance to them.

Women’s’ Empowerment Women constitute 48.1 percent of the country’s population. They play an important role in various fields such as agriculture, dairy farming, handicraft etc., but their contribution in these fields has not been viewed as economic activity. A large number of them work in the primary sector as an unskilled workforce and get wages lower than men. A large number of women are illiterate; hence most of them suffer from economic subjugation, powerlessness, isolation, vulnerability, and poverty. The issues of economic upliftment of women and their empowerment have been the prime concern of the government in various schemes. The government felt that NGO’s might be involved in this area for implementation of the some of the programmes such as DWCRA by organizing self-help groups (SHGs). It can be noted from the above that SEDS has been focusing mainly on the economic development of the schemes by involving particularly the youth, women and the poor and marginal farmers. As there are functionaries of this NGO at the grass root level to organize local communities in the village there is a possibility of effective implementation of the schemes. Moreover it deals with the primary concerns of the people- food and clothing. To make people self-reliant the NGO plans to slowly withdraw, so that the dependency of the people on external agencies may be

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minimized; this is a sound objective for the real development of the local communities. There are 4 SHGs functioning in the Thanda. The women were attracted to benefits such as savings and the availability of loans for purchase of sheep, buffalo and other cattle. After the formation of one group people realized the importance of such groups and slowly new groups emerged. The group members meet regularly and decide the future course of action. In these meetings the SEDS functionaries educate them about savings, health etc. Due to regular meetings and Gram sabhas conducted by SEDS their awareness level has increased enormously about their health, their children‘s education and, most important, their savings. As savings accumulated, women members were able to withdraw money during emergency situations. According to Radha Bai, 42 years old, before the formation of the groups, if anybody was ill in the family, they had to rush to the moneylender for help. Whereas now, there are SHGs to help them. They borrow money from the group. The lending of one’s own money or that kept aside for the children is decided on the severity or necessity of the demand, how urgent it is, such as health issues, or children’s school fees or any other urgent need. Till recently due to lack of work and consequently no wages the women used to spend sleepless nights. They used to migrate to other areas for wage labour. Wages were also less and working hours were longer. They were not aware of the issues of health, children‘s education, sanitation, savings, etc. Earlier they also felt that for women there was no role to play in the family or household decision-making process except to agree with their mothers- in-law and husbands. The women were not aware of programmes like Balika Samriddi Yojana (Girl Child Development Programme), mother and children’s protection, etc. After the entry of SEDS, works such as pebble bunding and contour bundings have become regular. Another important feature is that there is no difference in wage rates for men and women. The women feel very happy that there is no gender discrimination in the rates of wages. Their saving levels, according to them, have improved enormously due to the efforts of the SEDS. The majority of the women are sending their children to schools as they have realized the significance of education. They also have plans to contest and win the elections in the village and thus participate in the village administration and policymaking process.

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Capacity Building The SEDS have trained around 20 youth from the village in the last four years at their vocational training centre located in Penukonda. They have been undergoing training in different trades as mentioned earlier. Almost all of them found employment in nearby towns and settled there itself. Some of them established their own private enterprises competing with non-Sugalis.

Obstacles to Development In spite of the above-mentioned efforts of NGO, the Sugalis’ position in the Thanda has not changed significantly. One dominant reason for such static conditions in spite of efforts made to effect change is obviously, as in any other part of the country, the apathy of the government functionaries at different levels (Eswarappa, 2005). Local conditions such as poor infrastructural development, failure of monsoons, vested interests of the communities are also to some extent responsible for the inertia. It seems that even the NGO does not perform its function objectively. It is believed that the NGO is favouring one section of the Sugalis in the Thanda and delivers all its services to the same section of the Sugalis while deliberately neglecting the other. This is due to the party politics prevalent in the village. The NGO manager, who is based in the Thanda, has resigned from his post to put his supporter as a Telugu Desam party candidate in the last Local Body elections. Some of the youth from the Thanda openly opposed the NGO’s stand but it was of no use. The manager accepted the role played by him in the last elections and said that there was no other way for him except to support Telugu Desam party for survival in the area. Thus, party politics have a direct bearing on development efforts, either by NGOs or the government machinery. The levels of interaction of Sugalis with both the government officials and NGOs can be seen in terms of their involvement in the party politics and factions. The ruling party is always ahead in factional politics in the village and Sugalis have to take sides with one of the parties or factions. The present Sarpanch was twice elected on a Telugu Desam party ticket and his group represents one section of the Sugalis in the village. The NGO is also supporting this group in the village at the cost of the other section.

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Even though there is no significant socio-economic change of the Sugalis compared to the non-Sugali population in the village, it cannot be denied that there has been some qualitative change in the lives of the Sugalis. In terms of quantity, that is the number of households who cross the poverty line due to the efforts of the government and the SEDS, there is an initiation of change among the Sugalis. This may take some time to yield perceptible results. Some micro level changes, which are qualitative in nature and likely to produce results, have been noticed in the study. I shall now attempt to understand these changes.

Conclusion The paper tries to assess the agency/NGO role in the development process at a micro level in order to understand the impact of the interventions of civil society and other agencies in bringing about socio-economic development. At the micro level, the programmes are beset with problems relating to the coordination of various elements that necessarily intervene in and intersect the areas of operation. These include human elements – the discharging of the duties of the functionaries, the location of the institutions, the play of power politics and natural local conditions. There is a complex relationship between these elements. Thus, it is here that the introduction of the right to information act is relevant to understand the problems better and to make beneficiaries more involved. Civil society organizations have expressed a genuine interest in liaising and working towards building strategic partnerships with the government where possible to assist in the implementation process. Civil society is also likely to take a lead in raising public awareness about the new law (Devasher, 2005). For the success of any programme, the proper configuration, manipulation and exploitation of these elements for advantage become necessary. Whoever, either an individual or agency, is able to handle judiciously and overcome these problems will be a successful player. To some extent in this case the NGO played the game better than the government. Economic focus ensuring support of cultural elements seems to yield the desired result, as can be surmised from this study, and the SEDS model does hold out hope for creating and perpetuating an actively engaged citizen.

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References Baviskar, B.S., 2001, NGO s and Civil Society in India, Sociological Bulletin, 50 (1) March. Devasher, Mandakini, 2006, ‘RTI law: the long road ahead’, India Together, July, New Delhi. Eswarappa Kasi, 2001, Development and Change due to Sericulture – A Village Study in Chittoor District, (An unpublished M.Phil Dissertation Submitted to University of Hyderabad, Hyderabad for M.Phil Degree). —. 2005, ‘Socio-economic Development of Sugalis: An Anthropological Study from a Tribal Settlement of Anantapur’ paper presented in the National Seminar on “Globalisation and Contextualizing Social Science Research in India: Towards Diagnostic, Predictive and Intervention Modules”, Hyderabad, November, 15-16, 2005. —. 2006, ‘Role of Social Education Development Society (SEDS) in the Development of Sugalis: Case Study of Adadakulapalle Settlement’ published in View Point (Web Journal), No (8), January-July, 2006, HU Sociology group of University of Hyderabad. (See also www.uohyd.ernet.in/sss/dsociology/view.html). Eswarappa Kasi and R. Siva Prasad, 2005, ‘Development and Change among Sugalis: An Ethnographic Evidence from a NGO Based Village’ paper presented in the 37th World Congress of International Institute of Sociology (IIS), Stockholm, Sweden, 5-9 July, 2005. —. 2005, ‘Poverty and Vulnerability among Tribal People: A Case of Sugalis’ paper presented in the National Seminar on ‘Poverty among Tribals’, Hyderabad, on 12-13 April 2005. Gupta, Dipankar, 2004, Meeting “Felt Aspirations”: Globalization and Equity from an Anthropological Perspective www.anthrosource.net/doi/abs/10.1525/Gupta.2004/pdf. Meyer, C.A., 1996, ‘NGOs and Environmental Public Goods: Institutional Alternatives to Property Rights’, Development and Change, Vol.27: 453-474. Nametra, 1995, ‘Income and Employment Generation Programmes of NGOs in India’, paper presented in a Workshop on Savings and Credit and IGPs, NOVIB, Bangalore. Radhakrishna, R. and Shovan Ray, 2005, Handbook of Poverty in India, Oxford University Press, New Delhi. Social Education and Development Society 2004. Annual Report of Social Education and Development Society prepared to submit to the donors, 2002-2004. See also www.seds.org for further details.

CHAPTER NINETEEN SOCIAL SKILLS DEVELOPMENT IN CHILDREN WITH LEARNING DISABILITY KAUSAR WAQAR

Background Society is a heterogeneous group of people (social animals) who live close to each other and interact with each other. They have their likes and dislikes, compulsions, obsessions, and priorities that drive them in a particular way. A person living in society has his/her life touched by countless people every day. These people connect, interact and disengage in a matter of seconds or they may take a lifetime, but they do affect each other; influence each other. Social skills help people to do just that. Social competence in an individual is the performance of social skills in interpersonal interactions in efficient and fluent ways to yield positive consequences for the person and for those around him or her. From the perspective of the school and cognitive psychologists, it is the difficulty in learning to read, write and spell that is most striking. But a child is not all about school performance. Life outside academics is equally important and this sometimes takes precedence over academics. It is in this aspect of the child’s life that social skills come into play. Hartup (1992) notes that peer relationships in particular contribute a great deal to both social and cognitive development and to the effectiveness with which we function as adults. He states that the single best childhood predictor of adult adaptation is not school grades, and not classroom behavior, but rather the adequacy with which the child gets along with the other children. Children who are generally disliked, who are disruptive and aggressive, who are unable to sustain close relationship with other

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children, and who cannot establish a place for themselves in the peer culture, are seriously at risk. (Hartup 1992: 1). The risks are many: poor mental health, dropping out of school, low achievement and other school difficulties and poor employment history. (Katz, McClellan, 1997) The self esteem of a child is the product of his academic performance, his/her life in and outside of the school, the peer perception of the child, self concept, and self esteem suffers due to the difficulties faced by a child with a learning disability. This may result in the child losing confidence and having a low self-esteem. There is a general consensus from a mixed body of research that children with learning disabilities are more likely to have behavioral and emotional difficulties along with low self esteem. This may lead them to engaging in very few formal social activities, to go places with friends and to engage in extra curricular activities. Less interaction with peers may result in children with learning disabilities being less socially skilled than their peers. This may result in their being poorly treated by their peers in cooperative groups. The field of learning disability is a dynamic discipline responsive to the advances in education and changes in society. The fact that we at all have a field called learning disability is a product of the age which we live in. After all it is societal priorities that determine if a particular child is considered as having a disability. In every age there have been people who have not been able to meet the demands of the society, such as merit in physical prowess in the Greek and Roman eras, or musical talent in the Elizabethan period or the social repertoire in the Edwardian days. Nowadays it is simply academic expectations that society cherishes for its citizens. People with Learning Disability are unable to meet these demands. Many people tend to think of Learning Disability in the narrowest sense as a reading disability. However, given the growing recognition that innumeracy, written expression and social skills are also important contributors to academic, vocational and socio-emotional adjustment, these too are attracting greater attention in research and intervention efforts.

Learning Disability The concept of learning disability includes almost every form of behavioral aberration, which has ever irritated a teacher or worried a parent. The term ‘learning disability’ generally reflects the orientation of

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the researcher involved. Doctors use neurological words, psychologists try to define processes, and educators focus on learning and classroom behavior.

Definition According to the National Joint Committee on Learning Disabilities, a learning disability is a ‘general term that refers to a heterogeneous group of disorders manifested by significant difficulties in the acquisition and use of listening, speaking, reading, writing, reasoning, or mathematical abilities. These disorders are intrinsic to the individual, presumed to be due to central nervous system dysfunction and may occur across the life span. Problems in self-regulatory behaviors, social perception, and social interaction may exist with learning disabilities but do not by themselves constitute a learning disability. Although learning disabilities may occur concomitantly with other conditions (for example, sensory impairment, mental retardation, serious emotional disturbance) or with extrinsic influences (such as cultural differences, insufficient or inappropriate instruction), they are not the result of these conditions or influences.’

Social skills development Social skills development means the acquisition of the ability to behave in accordance with social expectations. As a result people fit into the group with which they are identified and are accepted as group members. There is little evidence to show that people are born social, unsocial or antisocial, and much evidence to show that they are made that way by learning. However, learning to be a social person does not come overnight. Children learn in cycles, with periods of rapid improvement followed by plateaus in which there is little improvement or even by phases of regression to lower levels of social behavior.

Elements of social skills Becoming socialized involves three processes, which although separate and distinct, are so closely linked that failure in one of them will lower the individual’s level of socialization. Social intake is to know what the approved behavior is for the particular social group and modeling one’s own behavior along those lines; for

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example, noticing and understanding the other person’s speech patterns, vocal inflection, body language, eye contact and even cultural behaviors. Internal process: interpreting what others communicate to you as well as recognizing and managing your own emotions and reactions. Social output: how a person reacts to others and communicates to others through speech, gestures, and body language. Relatively few people succeed in all three of the processes. Most however wish to win social approval and therefore they confirm to group expectations. They do so, for example, by learning to use fronts to cover up thought and feelings that might be considered unacceptable. They learn not to look bored, even though they may be bored, not to talk about taboo subjects in the presence of those who disapprove, and not to look too pleased when someone they dislike is hurt.

Essentials of socialization What children’s attitudes towards people and social experiences will be, and how well they will get along with other people, will depend largely upon their learning experiences in the early formative years of life. Whether they will learn to confirm to social expectations and become socialized will depend upon four factors. First, ample opportunities for socialization are essential because children cannot learn to live socially with others if they do not get opportunities to be with people of different cultural backgrounds, ages etc. Second, children must not only be able to communicate to others when they are with them in words that others can understand, but they must also be able to talk about topics that are understandable and interesting to others. Third, children will learn to be social only if they are motivated to do so. Motivation depends largely on how much satisfaction they derive from social activities. Fourth, an effective method of learning under guidance is essential.

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Areas of Influence The group’s influence on the social development of children is especially strong in three areas. First, the area of influence is on the desire to conform to social expectations. Conformity is the behavior intended to fulfill group expectations. Second, the group helps the child to achieve independence from his/her parents, and to become individuals in their own right. Through their association with peers children learn to think independently, to make their own decisions, to accept points of view and values not shared by their families, and to learn the pattern of behaviour approved by the group. Third, the emphasis is on children’s self concept. If the opinion of others is favorable, children will think favorably about themselves, if they are unfavorable, children will come to dislike and reject themselves.

Beginnings of social behavior At birth babies are not gregarious. So long as their bodily needs are taken care of, they have no interest in people. Socialization in the form of gregarious behavior begins around the third month, when babies can distinguish between people and objects and when they respond differently to them. Social smiles are regarded as the beginnings of social development. Although social attitudes and responses which lead to personal and social adjustment problems can be modified as children grow older, it is far easier to avoid such problems by laying good foundations in the first place. That is why babyhood is regarded as a critical age in socialization. Foundations of social behavior laid in babyhood include the following behaviors: imitation, shyness, attachment behavior, dependency, acceptance of authority, rivalry, attention seeking, social cooperation, resistant behavior.

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Learning Disabilities and Social Skills Our ability to interact and develop relationships with those around us is not fully realized until we are able to listen and communicate effectively. The ability to connect with others will be affected if a child has any type of a social communication problem. To be an effective communicator, either on the play ground or in the board room, we must be able to hear, discriminate and understand what is being said. A child with a learning disability must be able to read visual cues in other people’s expressions, as well as catch the inflection in one’s voice in order to make sense of what is being said. We must also be able to notice and comprehend subtle exchanges, such as those involved in sarcasm or humor, and to ‘read between the lines’ in order to determine the hidden meaning of what was said. Otherwise the life of the child with Learning Disability is filled with social blunders that are frustrating and embarrassing. A convincing body of evidence has accumulated to indicate that unless children achieve minimal social competence by the age of 6 years, they have a high probability of being at risk in adulthood in several ways. A child’s long term social and emotional adaptation, his/her academic and cognitive development and ultimately citizenship are enhanced by frequent opportunities to strengthen social competence during childhood. Wexler estimates that up to 70 percent of juvenile offenders and 40 percent of adult prisoners may have Learning Disability- a significant percentage. Most of the individual traits associated with risks characterize many children with LD. Recent brain imaging studies of children with LD support previous evidence of under arousal and impairment in frontal regions of the brain which is thought to help individuals monitor and control behaviour, strategize and set goals. In addition, children with LD have been shown to be less responsive than other children to environmental feedbackreinforcement, consequences and punishment. Finally some children with LD and reading disability may also be predisposed to aggression. Academic Failure: Cognitive impairment in children with LD frequently causes serious academic problems-low reading scores, language impairment, and poor grades. If unaddressed, these impairments increase the risk of school failure, amplifying any innate risks for developing antisocial or delinquent behavior.

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Social Failure: Despite their social natures and pro social intent, 50 to 80 percent of children with LD experience significant peer problems and social failure. They tend to be lonelier, have fewer friends, and participate in fewer extracurricular and community activities than their peers. Social problems are so prevalent in children with LD that some consider it a hallmark characteristic. For Children with Learning Disability, reading social cues may be as difficult as reading words. Both academic and social tasks require children to process and respond to cues and information in the environment, but unlike books, which are inanimate and static, interpersonal communications are dynamic and emotionally charged. Subtle non-verbal cues, timing, facial expressions, posture, tone and volume of voice can determine how others interpret meaning and perceive intent. Children with Learning Disability are more likely to misperceive or miss social cues and to perceive hostile intent where it doesn’t exist. On the other hand they are less likely to ‘get jokes’ or to discern when others are joking. Lack of inhibition can cause children with LD to behave tactlessly and intrusively, dominate and interrupt conversations, and to not listen. As a result they may seem obstinate, bossy, insensitive and rude. Finally, many children with LD have significant impairment of the skills needed to modulate behaviour in response to changing demands, and so their behaviour may often seem inappropriate for a particular situation. Goldstein and Goldstein state that the child with LD is more at risk for oppositional behavior because s/he cannot meet the demands of others, fail frequently, and as a result become frustrated, unhappy and more negative. Fouse and Brians suggest that well meaning but frustrated parents and teachers may push these children on the brink of despair. Some think that the defiant child may be fighting for self-preservation while actually the depressed child has already given up.

Research Study This research was conducted in selected schools of Karachi to find out the social skills development in children with Learning Disability and to compare them with social skills development in normal children.

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Sampling Purposive and random sampling methods were used. The school selection was based on purposive sampling, the child selection based on random sampling. Four schools were selected for this study. A total of fifty children were considered. Of these twenty five were normal children and twenty five were children with Learning Disability.

Description of the Instrument A checklist was developed as instrument for the findings. The questionnaire contained general questions about the child and his/her parents. The prepared checklist contained questions under the following headings: individual attributes, social skills attributes, peer relationship attributes, cultural perception, social attitude, and social behaviour.

Procedure The literature relevant to the study was reviewed. Many checklists and relevant literature were consulted and then a checklist incorporating our cultural norms was developed. For the purpose of pre-testing, a preliminary checklist was developed. This was applied to the relevant population. After finalizing the checklist in the light of pre-testing experience, the instrument was applied and data was collected. The collected data was analyzed through statistical methods and presented in a tabulated from.

Interpretation of the Results A scale of 0, 1, 2, 3, 4 was used where 0 represented that the skill was never shown, 1-skill shown with help, 2-skill shown at prompting, 3-skill shown most of the time and 4 represented that skill was shown all the time. When social skills present in normal children were compared to the social skills of children with Learning Disability, it was found that normal children had well developed social skills but significant deficits were present in children with Learning Disability.

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Table-1 Social skills in normal children (Sample size=25 children) Skill area Individual attributes Social skills attributes Peer relationship Cultural perception Social perception Social attitude Social behavior

Skill Present 22

%

%

88

Skill not generalized 3

20

80

2

8

0

0

20

80

3

12

2

8

18

72

4

16

3

12

19

76

6

24

0

0

20

80

5

20

0

0

23

92

2

8

0

0

12

Skill absent 0

% 0

The majority of the children tested showed well developed social skills. 8% of the children showed some deficits in the peer relationship, and 12% showed deficits in cultural perception. Graph 1 25 20 15 10 5

In di v

id So ua cia la ttr ls ib kil ut ls es at Pe tr i b er ut es re Cu la t i o ltu ns ra hi lp p er So c ep cia t io lp n er ce So pt io cia n l So attit ud cia e lb eh av io r

0

Skill present Skill not generalized Skill absent

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Table 2: Social skills in children with learning disability (Sample size=25 children) Skill area Individual attributes Social skills attributes Peer relationship Cultural perception Social perception Social attitude Social behavior

Skill Present 3

% 12

Skill not generalized 3

%

6

24

7

28

12

48

3

12

12

48

10

40

5

20

7

28

13

52

14

56

8

24

3

12

4

16

7

28

14

56

10

40

6

24

9

36

12

Skill absent 18

% 72

The majority of the children tested showed major deficits in social skills developments. Deficits were in all sub areas of the checklist Graph 2

In di v

id So ua cia la ttr ls ib kil ut ls es at tri Pe b er ut es re la Cu tio ltu ns ra hi lp p er So ce cia pt io lp n er ce So pt io cia n la t ti So tu cia de lb eh av io r

20 18 16 14 12 10 8 6 4 2 0

Skill present Skill not generalized Skill absent

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In social perception skills children with and without Learning disability showed good results. This area looked into skills such as interest shown in others, requests for and exchange of information from others, and showing an appropriate understanding of feelings. In the social behavior sub heading children without disability showed good results and children without Learning Disability also showed better results. It is clear from the above data that the difference in the skill acquisition in normal and children with Learning Disability is significant.

Recommendations Many students with Learning Disability find themselves in rejected or isolated subgroups. It is important for the teacher to assist the classroom to change their view of the student, it is essential for society to accept these children as members of society and it is necessary that there should be significant government /civil society/NGO intervention to enable these children to reach their full potential to become dynamic and first-class citizens.

References Bee, Helen, 1985, The Developing Child, 4th Edition, Harper and Row, New York. Bender, William N., 1993, Learning Disabilities. Best Practices for professionals, Reed publishing. Hallahan, D.P. and Kaufman, 1988, Exceptional Children. 3rd Ed. Merrill Publishing, Columbus. Hartup, W. W. Ed. ‘Having Friends, Making Friends, and Keeping Friends: Relationships as Educational Contexts’. Urbana, IL: ERIC Clearinghouse on Elementary and Early childhood Education, 1991: 345- 854. Hornsby, Beve, 1984, Overcoming Dyslexia, P G Publishing Pvt. Ltd. Singapore, Hong Kong. Hurlock, Elizabeth B., 1978, Child Development, McGraw Hill Book Co. Katz, L.G. and D. McClellan ed. 1991, ‘The teacher’s role in the social development of young children’. Urbana, IL: ERIC Clearinghouse on Elementary and Early Childhood Education: 346- 988. Learner, Janet W., 1985, Learning Disabilities, 4th Edition. Houghton Miffin Co., Boston.

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Lois, Vick, 1987, Development and Handicap, Basil Blackwell, New York. Lovitt, Thomas C., 1978, Introduction to Learning Disabilities, Allyn & Bacon. Marhoefer, Patricin, R. and L.A Vadxrin, 1988, Caring For the Development Child, Delmar Publishing, New York. McClellan, Diane E. – Katz, Lilian G. Source: ERIC Clearinghouse on Elementary and Early Child Hood Education Urbana IL Mercer, Cecil D. and Ann R Mercer, 1985, Teaching Students with Learning Problems, 2nd Ed. Charles E. Merrill Publishing Co. Neisjworth, John T. and Stephen J. Bagnato, 1987, The Young Exceptional Child; Early Development and Education, Macmillan, New York. Norris, Haring G., 1986, Exceptional Children and Youth, 4th Edition, Merrill Pub Co., Columbus. Osofsky, J.D., 1987, Hand book of Infant Development. 2nd Ed. John Wiley & Sons, New York. Oxford Advanced Learners Dictionary. Melbourne, Oxford University Press, 1989. Reynold, Cecil R. & Mann, 1987, Letters Encyclopedia of Special Education, John Wiley & Sons, New York. Schumaker, Jean B. and Donald D. Deshler, 1995, Social Skills and Learning disabilities, LDA News Briefs, March- April. Skinner, Charles E., 1990, Educational Psychology, 4th Edition, Prentice Hall, New Delhi. Smith, Corrine, 1911, Learning Disabilities. The Interaction of Learner, Task and Setting, Allyn & Bacon The Teacher’s Role in Developing Social Skills, Richard Lavoie, Teacher’s Guide to Last One Picked….. First one picked on. 1944 – Richard Lavoie examines the critical role the school plays in a child’s social development and offers suggestions for the teachers working with preschoolers, elementary school children, and secondary school students. Thomas, R.M., 1990, The Encyclopedia of Human development and Education. Theory, Research and Studies, Peragamon Press, Oxford. Waldron, Karen A., 1992, Teachers Children with Learning Disabilities, Strategies for Success, Chapman & Hall. William, P.A. 1981, Glossary of Special Education, North Wales Open University Press. www.curry.edschoo;.www.virginia.com www.teachinggld.org\id_resources www.weac.org\resources

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Zohra, Begum Anjum Bano, 2000, Overcoming Disabilities, Learning and hearing, Department of Special Education, University of Karachi.

CONCLUSION AN OPEN MOMENT? M.N. RAJESH

The end of the millennium has brought about multiple agendas for South Asia, some drafted by the World Bank and the proponents of globalization espousing privatization and also the transition to a knowledge economy with rapid growth. Resistance to this agenda is not only coming from the main cities but also from the deep interiors where people are mobilized not always on the basis of ideology but also on the basis of religion and ethnicity, a feature noticeable after the cold war when communism went out of fashion in the world. But, of late there has also been a renewal of communist movements that have waken up to the new reality and their targets like the other movements are not the state alone but the NGOs and other aid agencies that have become a permanent fixture and mediating institutions on the map of South Asia. This development parallels the withdrawal of the state from welfare activities. All protests though are not violent and the new wave protests are called by some as new social movements. These multiple images of South Asia have raised the problem of characterising the region at this moment. This exercise is fraught with dangers because of the constant flux and also because of the reactions compounded by the pangs of transition. When the United Nations was founded there were around 51 sovereign nations and today the figure has tripled to around 192 with an average of three new nations coming into existence every year. Many of them are essaying new histories, redrawing their maps linking them to regions far away, to sacred centers, and in the process highlighting certain regions and at the same time obscuring others with a deft use of cartographic devices. Coming to terms with the past is also a burdensome exercise coupled with the need to balance the rising cultural aspirations that have a found a new voice mediated by the de-massified media that is beyond the control of the state except in totalitarian regimes.

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One instance for example: in 1981 a group of Yakut tribesmen were being chased by the Soviet authorities and after a deep pursuit they were cornered in the deep forests of Siberia. The first question that the Yakuts asked the policemen was: Was Stalin was dead? followed by another question: had World War II ended? Siberia became well known as a symbol of the Gulag. In another of Stalin’s exercises there was the mass deportation of entire ethnic groups down to the last man, such as the Kalmyks, at a notice of just a few hours, again to far off Siberia, effectively destroying their Buddhist heritage. In the wastes of Siberia they secretly harboured ill will against the Russians and hoped for a day to return and rebuild their lost heritage without any traces of Russian influence and therefore looked beyond the iron curtain towards Europe. This was only logical as Kalmykia is the only Buddhist political entity in Europe and, like other nations of the Caucasus, felt the brunt of Russification and yearned to look westwards. The collapse of the totalizing regime of the USSR in 1991 saw the voices of these minorities being heard and their aspirations being translated into action. In Kalmykia, one would have expected them to seize the moment and look westwards but the new geopolitical realities and the popular will moved in a different trajectory. Russia recognised Tibetan Buddhism as one of the five official religions of Russia in a throwback to the Czarist period, and further, in a strange reversal of roles, the Russians have emerged as the patrons of the Kalmyks as well as a sobering influence in the otherwise troubled Caucasus. For the Kalmyks, the collective memory of forced russification is replaced by a sense of new found optimism that now links them to the Dalai Lama’s Government in Exile in Dharamsala,India, long after the collapse of old Tibet, though the Kalmyks had few large scale links to Tibet. Today, the movement of Kalmyk pilgrims, scholars and students to Dharamsala has integrated them to South Asia both in a religious and cultural sense with the Dalai Lama being celebrated as a culture hero in Kalmykia. This is a radically new geography of spiritual citizenship. Many such parallels are seen all over the world where old approaches are now discarded. Many fallen myths are being resurrected and have become an anchoring point for community mobilization and reformulation of identities. For many Chin-Kuki people like the Mizos in north east India who have embraced Judaism, their world view has changed and Jerusalem has now become their centre of the world. Their task is to prove that they were once Jews belonging to one of the ten lost tribes of Israel and after

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their wanderings for centuries, they settled in China and later reached present Myanmar and India some time in the 15th century A.D. Though, the number of people who have embraced Judaism is very small and the number of historians who accept the Mizo Israelism thesis is also very small, an important section of the rabbinate- the rabbinic historians- has accepted their claim. Today, there is a settlement of nearly a thousand Mizo and related Chin-Kuki people in Israel. The politics of NRIs versus the Indian diaspora is reflected in the policies of the Indian government. NRIs are supposed to be rich Indians from Canada, USA, and Europe while the diaspora are identified with the indentured labour who replaced the slaves in the colonial plantations. Recently Indians from South Africa have been extended extra privileges by the Indian government. People of Indian origin in South Africa have been exempted from the visa formalities to enter India for performing the last rites of their dead in accordance with the dominant belief that the ashes of dead Hindus have to be scattered in the sacred streams for them to attain salvation. But many other persons of Indian origin are unlucky living a stone’s throw away in neighbouring South Asia like the case of the plantation Tamils of Sri Lanka who till date are recognized as stateless citizens. Even stranger is the case of many Indian and Bangladeshi citizens who live in enclaves (chittmahals) in the neighbouring countries (95 Indian enclaves in Bangladeshi territory and 130 Bangladeshi enclaves in Indian territory). This change is also impacted to a very large extent by technology where we see that certain groups and issues have become the point of discussion and are therefore articulated better whereas many other issues have been deliberately kept under the carpet and special care has been taken to do so. Technology too has been employed in these exercises, often giving a transnational angle to the whole situation. One of the apt examples in this regard is the sorry state of the Tamil Muslims of Sri Lanka who are the first case of ethnic cleansing in South Asia and have now also been rendered voiceless, both in the traditional media and also in the new media where their case is obscure. But all this change is neither uni-directional, nor just in the realm of politics, but interrelated to technology and a host of other developments. History, memory and territory are all in a constant state of flux and our perceptions of these have been continually changing but at no point in time has this change been as fast as in today’s world. Today, we live in a

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strange moment in history: an ‘open moment’ which, according to optimists, has the potential to propel us to a brave new world while those on the other side of the divide see it as the reformulation of earlier structures albeit in new packages. But, none can deny change. Change is happening so fast at an exponential pace with knowledge doubling and uniquely new knowledge being generated every three years that this makes earlier knowledge redundant at a very fast pace. At this crucial juncture old categories and concepts crumble and as newer structures emerge, they are also blurred, leading to more questions than answers. Literally, a deluge of questions in the range of 2.3 billion questions are addressed a month on www.google.com This alone leads us to another question, where were the people addressing these questions earlier? This has led someone to label this divide as Before Google (B.G) and after. While academia has been quick to label these writings as the work of punk historians and similar appellations, the truth remains that in this changed situation of demassification aided by the ICT revolution, history writing is no longer the sole preserve of the historian. The common man has come to take an active part in this debate. History in the end is written by the historian and it was easy to map the changing methodologies used by the historians to essay the past but this is becoming increasingly difficult in the modern day. Another twist is the shift to hypertext at a popular level echoing what the late E H Carr had once called, ‘bringing more and more people into history’. These so called alternative histories or people’s histories are becoming more and more popular because of the point at which we are located in time. Moreover, devices afforded by the new media enable these alternative histories to have an immediacy that the conventional historical format lacked. The collapse of state control over the new media has led to the resurgence of many archaic voices unimaginable just a decade ago. This puts the authorities as well as many social groups in a dilemma. Taking advantage of this opportunity, the common man is writing history and creating news by posting web pages, blogs and a set of opinions and views. The newspaper reader is no longer a passive consumer but also a generator of news in many ways, posting different sides of the story or new stories in many formats. Recent concerns over the attempts to build cyber nations on the web by both the LTTE and the Kashmiri separatists have emerged as topics of academic discussion. On the other hand we see the recent declarations of the joint ASEAN India summit in 2002, where cyber crime is designated

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as being equivalent to terrorism, while at the same time the unhappy reality that governments turn a blind eye to pornography is an indicator of this new turn. One of the best ways to encapsulate this change is to look at the near total disappearance of science fiction as a genre since all that is being written is becoming outdated at an unprecedented pace. The point of emphasis is that: 1) time is collapsing at an unprecedented pace and 2) there is an emerging disconnect between ground realities and academic representations of the same. This means that social scientists have been unable to address the compression of time and the ground realities which are anchored in that compressed time. A unique dilemma has emerged at this juncture: the historian is challenged on his own ground – his vantage points were the mastery over truth and time, a legacy inherited from the dawn of history writing which has now all but collapsed. Truth was challenged by the post modernists increasingly from the 1970’s and time has now become a casualty of this new reality. Notions of citizenship too have been impacted by these developments and the vital proof of being a citizen- a legal document called a ration card or a passport- is also being tampered in South Asia with large scale illegal demographic shifts that have altered negatively the South Asian map considerably in many parts of India and Bhutan. This alteration also has a beneficial aspect to both Nepal and Bangladesh who have no longer any incentive to care about their citizens and also who have eased the pressure on their scarce resources. At the same time, there is a curious situation among the South Asian diasporae regarding their place of origin, their history and the intended audience. The popularity of curry restaurants in the United Kingdom has witnessed the mushrooming of many such restaurants run by Bangladeshis, Indians, Pakistanis and Sri Lankans who often compete to serve the most authentic versions of Indian curries. In a strange incident in recent years a group of Indians and Pakistanis attacked a Bangladeshi restaurant in London, questioning the owner’s claim to use the name Taj Mahal. The strange collision of politics, environmental degradation and issues of citizenship coupled with new media activism can be best explained in the regime change in the Maldives. The unseating of Maumoon Abdul Gayoom after a rule of 30 years by a coalition of cyber-dissidents, human rights activists, potential environmental refugees and a host of other interested parties with strong transnational links and a South Asian

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element is a clear capsule of the changing trajectories in South Asia and also an admission of the fact that all the South Asian futures are intertwined. These are only now being unwrapped in exciting ways to a very large audience unheard of in South Asia for the past millennia. Barrack Obama’s unprecedented win with the help of the net sums it all and is the subject of post event analysis with many seminars, special issues of academic journals and even study centres springing up exclusively to explain this phenomenon that many had earlier dismissed as a freak or fringe phenomenon but are now increasingly realising that this is the shape of things to come. As a representative of his age, Obama’s strategic use of the internet to generate funds and address diverse constituencies without campaign fatigue and amazing time management with prompt responses to situations narrowed the decision-action cycle. In all, this election has shown that the long held dominant dichotomies and divisions are too simplistic and we are in a stage of transition to a different threshold level. The digitization of all texts, images and speech has transformed archives in many ways, made them virtual and therefore immediately accessible. This has spawned networks of people collaborating beyond disciplines as also creating new disciplines in their wake. This has also brought about a digital divide: the world is now divided between a digital elite and digital dodos, the distance between who is increasing daily. There is now therefore what we call information feudalism. The speed and exponential rate of change has opened many new doors but has also rendered many windows unviable. How social scientists seize this moment is a matter of great concern.