Syeda Hameed and Gunjan Veda on Sahariya innovators in Rajasthan
WE PLANNED to go to the historic town of Bundi. Named after a Meena tribal chieftain Bunda, this area was inhabited by tribes such as the Bhil and the Meena. In 1193 AD, when Prithvi Raj Chauhan was defeated by Sultan Mohammed Ghauri, the Chauhan nobility such as the Hada Rajputs moved towards the Chambal valley and overpowered local tribes to establish the kingdom of Hadoti. Later, two branches Hadas formed the separate states of Kota and Bundi on either side of the river Chambal.
We had been in the car for almost an hour when a wondrous sight appeased to the left. Perched on a hill, the Taragarh Fort was like a castle rising from a dream. A sonnet of the poet John Keats came to mind: “Then felt I like some watcher of the skies/When a new planet swims into his ken.’
Our wonderment at seeing Taragarh was the same as Keats felt when he watched the shooting star. The cars stopped. The fort stood at the end of a steep and slippery climb. Just outside the huge gate, Mugdha Sharma, the district collector, was waiting. She helped us on the treacherous climb and took us to see the masterpieces of art that adorned the walls and ceilings of Garh ki Paras, the local name for Taragarh. ‘We no longer find such workmanship. Our painters have switched to the Kishengarh school of painting. The delicate mix of blue and green, the confluence of Persian and Hindu art, the straight lines and fine bone structures which were the hallmark of the Bundi School have disappeared,’ she said sadly.
The bronze-coloured walls of Taragarh Fort, sundry hunting lodges and palaces like the Sukh Sagar Niwas on Jaitsagar lake where Rudyard Kipling found inspiration for his classic novel, Kim; the fifty stepwelIs including the forty-six-metre deep Raniji ki Baori with its intricate carvings, romanticize what is essentially a dilapidated town.
We moved towards Baran District, accompanied & by J.C. Mohanty, divisional commissioner in charge of Kota, Bundi, Baran and Jhalawar. We were heading to the Kishenganj and Shahabad tehsils, to the Sahariya areas. The Sahariya are the only PTG in Rajasthan and are recognized as one of the first inhabitants of the state. The name ‘Sahariya’ comes from the Arabi word ‘seh’ meaning ‘wilderness’. It is believed that the term was coined by the Muslim rulers of the area when they came across the tribes residing in the jungles.” Today, there are about 76,900 Sahariya spread across the Shahabad and Kishenganj tehsils of Baran District. Dravidian in origin, they have over the years given up their tribal religion and become practising Hindus. The Sahariya collect forest produce and work as agricultural labour. They also live in abject poverty and are ridden by continuous debt and malnutrition.
Finally, we reached the Sahariya territory. We learnt that the Sahariya usually live in forest enclosures called CIG (Common Interest Group). The scheme under which they operate is the Sahariya Vlikas Jan Van Shakti Yojana. The cars turned at a sign which read ‘Vivekananda CIG’. We were at Shahapura in Shahabad Block. Two women with red bandanas stood at a gate, waving red flags. ‘Yeh hamare closure ka jhanda hai (this is the flag of our [en]closure),’ they said, welcoming us with smiles. Following the neat stone-lined path, we came to a clearing with a hut in the centre. A small group of women and men were waiting for us. ‘For our plantations we dig trenches. In three years’ time, every family here will earn Rs 10,000 per year from Jatropha alone,’ the forest conservator explained. Janki Sahariya, a fifty-year-old pradhan, described how the people had fenced their enclosures. ‘We dug trenches and sowed Jatropha, neem, Aloe vera and hamata grass. We were given mazdoori (wages) of Rs 65 per day for making the enclosure; three-fourths of the wage was in the form of wheat at Rs 4 a kg.’
Kanti Bai Sahariya, in a dhoti and red scarf, explained other features of the CIG. We sell fruits and flowers of the forest to make a living. One head-load of grass sells for Rs 10. Five of our people guard the enclosure everyday by rotation to protect the forest from encroachers. But the Forest Department has provision for only thirty-five people to patrol the over 1.5 lakh hectares of forestland in Kishenganj and Shahbad, that too, without any vehicle!’
Hamroo Sahariya, who did not know his age, spoke next. ‘Didi, when I fell ill I had to go all the way to Kelwara and pay Rs 900 in medical fees.’ Kunti and Sarju, (like many youth here, we were told) complained of stomach ailments. ‘Bad drinking water is making us sick.’
Bahadur, a smiling Class 3 student, came forward. He counted up to twenty and recited the Hindi alphabet. ‘Didi, let me show you something,’ he said grabbing our hands and ushering us inside a tent which had been pitched in the corner. Everyone followed us. Inside, we saw a unique lighting system developed to electrify their guard post. Two fused batteries were immersed in a glass packed with cow dung and a small amount of salt. This was connected with a wire to a small bulb. The young Sahariya innovator Shivnath told us: ‘If you give me twenty-five fused batteries, I will generate enough power to play a CD!’
In the wilderness of Baran, we saw how the Sahariya were trying to carve out a future. Everyone asked for work not dole. Now that the hundred days of work for construction of enclosures had run out, they had nothing to do. ‘The Jatropha and other crops will take a couple of seasons to come up. What will we do until then? Janaki Sahariya’s question asked for a policy to fill the livelihood gap. (WFS)
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