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Raju Dumargaoin’s cheeks bulge as he begins to play the tarpi (also called tarpa). The five-feet-long musical instrument made of bamboo and dried bottle gourd instantly comes to life, and the sound of the wind instrument fills the air.One could not help but notice the musician and his peculiarly-shaped instrument at the exhibition grounds in Raipur, Chhattisgarh where the National Tribal Dance Festival organised by the state government was held from 27 - 29 December, 2020.The musician Raju explained that he played the tarpi at home in Mokhada Gunadajapara, a hamlet in Palghar, Maharashtra during Dussehra and Navratri and other festivals.Also read: <a href="https://ruralindiaonline.org/en/articles/my-tarpa-is-my-deity/">‘My tarpa is my deity’</a>

The wind song of the tarpi

ہواؤں میں بُنی تارپی کی آواز

தர்பியின் காற்றுப் பாடல்

తార్పీ గాలి పాట

ਮੰਤਰਮੁਗਧ ਕਰਦੀ ਤਾਰਪੀ ਦੀ ਧੁਨ

हवाओं में बुनी तारपी की आवाज़

താർപിയുടെ കാറ്റുപാട്ട്

তারপির হাওয়াইয়া গান

તારપીનું હવામાં ગણગણતું ગીત

বাতহত বিয়পে টাৰ্পিৰ সুৰ

सुध बिसरावे वाला तारपी के तान

हवा मं गुंजत तारपी के धुन

ತಾರ್ಪಿ ಎನ್ನುವ ಗಾಳಿ ವಾದ್ಯ

ତାରପିର ପବନ ଗୀତ

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First a lack of rain and then an unseasonal downpour ruined Chatra Devi’s crops. “We cultivated bajra [pearl millet] and it was growing well. But when we had to water our farms, it did not rain. Then it rained during the harvest and ruined the crop,” says the 45-year-old farmer from Khirkhiri village in Rajasthan’s Karauli district.Karauli’s economy is mainly dependent on agriculture and the majority of residents are either cultivators or agricultural labourers (Census 2011). The state has historically been water-starved and agriculture is mostly <a href="https://rajas.rajasthan.gov.in/PDF/2142022121719PMAGRICULTURALSTATISTICS2019_20.pdf">rainfed</a>.A member of the Mina community (listed as ST in the state), Chatra Devi says she has noticed a change in the rainfall pattern over the last 10 years. Rajasthan is India’s largest state (by area) and  <a href="https://mospi.gov.in/sites/default/files/cocsso/24cocsso_ag4_Rajasthan.pdf">70 per cent</a> of the population depend on agriculture and animal husbandry for their livelihoods.

Changing rainfall patterns has forced farmers in Khirkhiri to rely on milk sales for sustenance. But changes in the weather also negatively affects the health of livestock who fall prey to various diseases. “My cow has not eaten properly in the last 5-10 days,” says Chatra Devi.Anoop Singh Meena, 48, a teacher at the Mahatma Gandhi Senior Secondary School in Khirkhiri is worried about the future. “When I imagine the future of my village, agriculture that is dependent on the monsoons will see a lot of changes. The future seems very dark to me.”This film, set in Khirkhiri, tells the story of those who depend on the land and the challenges they endure as weather patterns become increasingly erratic.

Karauli's farmers hit by a changing climate

மாறிவரும் காலநிலையால் பாதிக்கப்பட்டுள்ள கரௌலி விவசாயிகள்

కరౌలీ రైతులను దెబ్బతీస్తోన్న మారుతున్న వాతావరణం

খামখেয়ালি জলবায়ুর জেরে আতান্তরে কারৌলির চাষিরা

ਬਦਲਦੇ ਮੌਸਮ ਦੀ ਮਾਰ ਹੇਠ ਕਰੌਲੀ ਦੇ ਕਿਸਾਨ

કરૌલી જિલ્લામાં આબોહવા પરિવર્તનથી પરેશાન ખેડૂતો

ಹವಾಮಾನ ಬದಲಾವಣೆಗೆ ತತ್ತರಿಸಿ ಹೋಗಿರುವ ಕರೌಲಿಯ ರೈತರು

करौली के किसान मन के ऊपर बदलत मऊसम के मार

बदलत मौसम से हलकान करौली के किसान

জলবায়ু পৰিৱৰ্তনে জলা-কলা খুৱাইছে কৰৌলিৰ কৃষকক

മാറിമറിയുന്ന കാലാവസ്ഥയിൽ വലഞ്ഞ് കരൗലിയിലെ കർഷകർ

ପରିବର୍ତ୍ତିତ ଜଳବାୟୁ ଦ୍ୱାରା କରୌଲୀର କୃଷକ ପ୍ରଭାବିତ

जलवायु में बदलाव की मार झेलते करौली के किसान

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An elephant never forgets his phandi (trainer), says Sarat Moran. He has trained more than 90 elephants. In the pachyderm’s lifetime, it will come running to its phandi even if it is in a dense jungle amidst a herd of wild elephants, he adds.At the pilkhana – a temporary camp for the training – the newborn calf is slowly introduced to human touch, repeated over days until it becomes routine. “Even a little pain during training feels like a lot,” says Sarat. As the days progress, the number of people around the calf keep increasing till the point where the animal is no longer uncomfortable. Sarat and the other trainers sing soothing songs to the pachyderm during the training, narrating the story of friendship between the animal and its trainer.

“You were in the hills, eating the big kako bamboo. You came to the valley under the trainer’s spell. I’ll teach you, I’ll coax you, It’s time to learn! This phandi will climb on your back and go hunting.”

After a period, the ropes that restrict the animal’s movements are slowly decreased and then removed altogether. It takes many ropes to train an elephant, say the trainer, and each has a distinct use and name. The elephant is also befriended with melodious songs that create their own spell. This trust was used in earlier times to capture wild elephants, and also in hunting.

Expert trainer Sarat Moran says he became a phandi as, “my village is in the forest and it has a lot of elephants. We have played with them since childhood. That’s how I learnt to train them.”The job of training elephants calls for teamwork. “The leader of the pack is the phandi. Then come the assistants known as luhotiya, mahout and ghasi. At least five people are required to control such a huge animal. We also need to gather food,” adds Sarat. People from the village help them. He lives in Torani, a small village in Tinsukia district of Assam, bordered by the Upper Dihing reserve forest. The Moran community’s skills at training have been acclaimed for centuries. They were once known to capture and train elephants for war. An indigenous community, they live in a few districts in upper Assam and also in adjoining Arunachal Pradesh. Today the taming of wild elephants is illegal, but newborn calves still need to be made familiar with human touch and phandis like Sarat and his team are paid upto Rs. one lakh for this work which can take anything from a month to three months.

The camp, set up outside the village, becomes a centre of attraction. People arrive to seek blessings from the elephant whom they consider as a living God. His trainer, the phandi is considered a priest, and is not allowed to travel anywhere, not even home, or eat food cooked by others. This practice is known as suwa. Sarat says he sends cash to his family in the hands of children who come to see the elephant.This documentary is set in the time of Magh Bihu, the harvest festival when celebrations include the roasting of a duck cooked with ash gourd. “We’re killing two birds with one stone. That is, we’re training the elephant and celebrating Maagh Bihu. We are roasting the duck. We will eat it together,” says Sarat. Despite the celebration all around, deep down he fears that this tradition will soon die out as young boys are not taking to the profession, wary of the long learning period. He tries to motivate the youth in the village to come and learn and keep the tradition alive. “I am slowly losing my strength. I tell the village boys that they should learn this. I am not a jealous person, I want everyone to learn, and our knowledge passes on,” he says.

In Tinsukia: singing lessons for Birbol

তিনিচুকীয়াত বীৰবলে শুনে হাতী বলোৱা গীত

গানে গানে বশ মানছে হাতি-ছানা বীরবল

తిన్సుకియాలో బీర్బల్‌ కోసం పాటల పాఠాలు

பிர்போலுக்கான பாட்டு வகுப்பு

ਤਿਨਸੂਕੀਆ ਵਿੱਚ ਬੀਰਬੋਲ ਲਈ ਗਾਇਨ ਕਲਾਸ

گیت گا کر بیربل ہاتھی کی ٹریننگ

ତିନ୍‌ସୁକିଆରେ: ବୀରବଲ୍‌ ପାଇଁ ଗୀତ ଶିକ୍ଷା

गाने की पाठशाला और बीरबल हाथी

ತಿನ್‌ಸುಕಿಯಾದ ಬೀರಬಲ್ಲಗೆ ಹಾಡಿನೊಂದಿಗೆ ಪಾಠ

ടിൻസുക്കിയയിൽ: ബീർബോലിനുള്ള സംഗീതപാഠങ്ങൾ

तिनसुकिया में संगीत सीखे वाला बीरबल हाथी

बछरू हाथी ला सिखाय बर गीत के तरकीब

તિનસુકિયામાં: બિરબલની તાલીમ માટે સંગીતના પાઠ

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It was hunger that drove Jalal Ali to learn how to make bamboo fishing traps. He was a young man trying to survive on daily wage work that would dry up in the monsoons: “The rainy season meant no work except for a few days planting paddy saplings,” he says.But the monsoons also brought fish crowding the channels and swamps of Mousita-Balabari in Darrang district where he lives, and bamboo fishing traps were in high demand. “I learnt how to make the bamboo fishing traps as that way I could feed my family. When you are hungry, you think of the easiest way to put food in the stomach,” says the 60-year-old laughing at the memory. Today Jalal is a master craftsman of seppa, bosna and bair – indigenous bamboo traps that can catch a variety of fish in these water bodies. He makes them at his home at Pub-Padokhat village along the Mousita-Balabari wetlands in Assam. “Just two decades ago,” Jalal says, “almost every household in my village as well as nearby villages used the [bamboo] trap to catch fish. Back then it was either the bamboo traps or the handmade shiv jaal.” He is referring to nets also known locally as tongi jaal or jhetka jaal – a square-shaped net with four corners attached to bamboo rods or strings. Local bamboo fishing traps are named according to their shape: “seppa is like a drum with oblong shape. Bair is also oblong-shaped but it is taller and wider. Darki is like a rectangular box,” explains Jalal. The duyer, diyaar and boishno traps are set in flowing water, mostly in water-logged paddy and jute fields, small canals, water conversing into swamps, wetlands or river confluence.

The Brahmaputra valley in Assam – from Sadiya in the east to Dhubri in the west – is dotted with rivers, channels, creeks connecting wetlands with rivers, floodplain lakes and innumerable natural ponds. These water bodies sustain fishing livelihoods of local communities. The fishing industry in Assam engages more 3.5 million, says the <a href="https://ruralindiaonline.org/en/library/resource/handbook-on-fisheries-statistics-2022/">Handbook</a> on Fisheries Statistics 2022. Scientists say commercial fishing gear such as mosuri jaal (small mesh net) and mechanised drag nets are expensive and dangerous for aquatic lives as they extract even the smallest fish and add plastic waste into the water. But indigenous fishing traps made with locally available bamboo, cane and jute are sustainable and tailored to local ecosystems – they only hold fish of a specific size, so there is no wastage. Overfishing happens with commercial nets and destroys the spawning ecosystem, added an expert at ICAR-Central Inland Fisheries Research Institute who did not wish to be named. He said siltation during floods is also reducing the size of natural swamps and wetlands – they have less water now and there is less catch of inland fish. A fact that fisherman Muksed Ali is painfully aware of: “earlier, you could see water flowing into the Brahmaputra which is around four kilometres from my home. Then I would set the fishing traps by creating narrow streams by putting soil on the submerged alleys in the fields.” The sexagenarian says he depended on bairs as he could not afford to buy modern nets. “We had a plenty of catch six or seven years ago. But now I hardly get half kilogram of fish from my four bairs,” says Muksed Ali who lives with his wife in No. 4 Arimari village of Darrang district.

Assam receives abundant <a href="https://dgm.assam.gov.in/frontimpotentdata/the-state-magazine">rain</a> – 166 cm in the Brahmaputra valley and 183 cm in Barak Valley. The southwest monsoon starts at the end of April and lasts till October. Jalal times his work to this rhythm. “I used to start making the fishing traps in joshti maash [mid-May] and people would start buying bairs from ashar maash [mid-June]. But for the last three years, people do not buy during the usual time due to less rain.”A World Bank <a href="https://documents1.worldbank.org/curated/en/099307303292335604/pdf/IDU0a9a7774208020b3fa0eb1485d1fe25.pdf">report</a> published in 2023 says Assam will experience rising temperatures, a decrease in annual rainfall and extreme flooding events. Climate change will also increase the sedimentation in water bodies – reducing their water levels and hence the fish they can hold. From 1990 to 2019, the annual average maximum and minimum temperatures increased by 0.049 and 0.013 degrees Celsius respectively, says this government <a href="https://alaesession.org/assets/uploads/answer/answer99993728.pdf">release</a> tabled in the state assembly. The daily average temperature range rose by 0.037 degrees Celsius and there was over 10 mm less rainfall each year during this period. “Earlier we knew when it would rain. But now the pattern has completely changed. Sometimes it rains way too much in a short time and sometimes it does not rain at all,” points out Jalal. Three years ago, he says, a craftsman like him could expect to earn between Rs. 20,000 to 30,000 during the monsoon season.

Last year, he managed to sell around 15 bairs but this year he has only made five bairs from mid-June to mid-July which is the regular time for people to buy the indigenous bamboo fishing traps, says the master craftsman.He’s not the only craftsman whose incomes have fallen. Jobla Daimary is a 79-year-old seppa maker in Udalguri district. He says, “there are fewer jackfruits on the trees, the heat is excessive and till now there has been no rain. This year will be unpredictable, so I will not put the effort unless I receive orders.” Daimary is speaking to PARI as he gives the final touches to a seppa. He adds that vendors have almost stopped visiting his home and so he had only made five fishing traps when we met him on a warm day in May 2024. At Balugaon weekly market, one of the biggest in Assam, Surhab Ali has been dealing with bamboo items for decades. “It is first week of July and I have not even sold one bair this year,” he points out Jalal is witnessing the slow vanishing of his craft: “Nobody comes to me to learn the process. Without fish, what would be the use of learning this art?” he asks as he gets back to finishing his darki in the backyard of his house which is actually a mud-road along the Mousita-Balabari unlisted beel (large swamp).

“You have to forget boredom and at the same time you will have to maintain unwavering focus if you want to make these traps,” says Jalal, making a point about the complete concentration his work requires. “At best you can listen to conversations, but if you want to participate then you will have to stop tying the knots on the bair.” Working continuously, he can complete a trap in two days. “If I stop from time to time, it can take four to five days,” he adds.The process of the making of these traps begins with selecting the bamboo. To make the fishing traps, the crafts people use locally sourced bamboo with longer internodes. Both bair and seppa are three feet or three-and-half feet long. Tolla baash or jati baah (Bambusa tulda) are preferred for their malleability. “A fully-grown bamboo, usually three or four-year-old, is crucial or else the trap will not last long. The internodes should ideally be at least 18 to 27 inches. My eyes must correctly measure them while procuring the bamboo,” he says. “I cut them into pieces from the end of one node to the other node,” adds Jalal who measures the thin square bamboo rods using his hand. Once the bamboo is cut into pieces, Jalal makes the fine square slips to weave them for the side walls of the fishing trap. “Earlier I used jute strings to weave the kaathi [thin bamboo slips] but now I use plastic threads as jute is no longer cultivated in our area.”

Jalal has to make 480 square-shaped bamboo slips which are either 18 inches or 27 inches in height. “This is a very tedious work,” he says. “The kaathis have to be equal in size and shape and very smooth, or the woven side walls will not be uniform.” It takes him half a day to do this.The most critical part is making the valves through which fish enter and are caught. “I can make four bairs from one bamboo which costs around 80 rupees, and the plastic string costs around 30 rupees,” says Jalal, an aluminium wire held between his teeth to keep knotting the top ends of the darki he is crafting. The braiding and knotting of the bamboo slips takes up to four days of intense labour. “You cannot take your eyes off the string and the bamboo slips. If you miss braiding a rod, then two bamboo slips may enter into one knot, and you will have to untie till the point and redo the braiding process,” he explains. “It is not about strength but very delicate braiding and knotting at specific points. The immersive attention makes sweat flow from head to toe.” With less rain and fewer fish, Jalal is worried about the future of his craft. “Who would want to observe and learn this skill that requires so much patience and perseverance?” he asks. This story is supported by a fellowship from Mrinalini Mukherjee Foundation (MMF).

Trapped by climate change in the Brahmaputra

আবহাওয়ার ঘুনিজালে আটক ব্রহ্মপুত্র উপত্যকা

ବ୍ରହ୍ମପୁତ୍ରରେ ଜଳବାୟୁ ପରିବର୍ତ୍ତନ କାରଣରୁ ଫସିଥିବା ଲୋକ

ब्रह्मपुत्र मं बदलत मऊसम के फांदा मं परे लोगन मन

মাছো নাই, মাছতিয়াৰো নাই - বিপাঙত মাছধৰা সঁজুলি নিৰ্মাতা

ब्रह्मपुत्रेतले मासे आणि वातावरण बदलाच्या सापळ्यात

બ્રહ્મપુત્રામાં આબોહવા પરિવર્તનના ફાંસલામાં ફસાયેલા

ਮੌਸਮੀ ਬਦਲਾਵ ਦੇ ਜਾਲ਼ ਵਿੱਚ ਬ੍ਰਹਮਪੁੱਤਰਾ

பிரம்மபுத்திராவில் காலநிலை மாற்றத்தால் சிக்கியுள்ள கலை

ബ്രഹ്മപുത്രയിൽ കാലാവസ്ഥാ വ്യതിയാനം കെണിയിലാക്കിയവർ

ಹವಾಮಾನ ಬದಲಾವಣೆಯ ಸುಳಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಬ್ರಹ್ಮಪುತ್ರ

ब्रह्मपुत्र में जलवायु परिवर्तन के जाल में फंसे शिल्पकार

जलवायु परिवर्तन के फेरा में फंसल जाल कलाकार

برہم پتر میں موسمیاتی تبدیلی سے پریشان جال بُنکر

బ్రహ్మపుత్రలో వాతావరణ మార్పులలో చిక్కుబడిన జీవితాలు

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When Karchung sings at Monpa weddings, he comes away with a portion of cooked lamb for his services. His musical rendition is said to honour the marriage ceremony, and it’s the bride’s family that invite him.When two members of the Monpa community agree to marry, they observe a two-day ritual that starts with the groom going to the girl’s house where the local brew ara, is drunk, and family members sing and dance at a grand feast. It is here that Karchung performs without the aid of any instrument. The next day the groom returns home with his new bride.   Karchung originally went by the name Rinchin Tashi, but soon his nickname ‘Karchung’ stuck. He runs a small grocery shop on the Changpa road in West Kameng district of Arunachal Pradesh. His love for music shows in the radio music that plays hit numbers in the background while he works. Karchung can also sing a song about ara. “I sing it while farming or chatting with friends,” he says. The 53-year-old lives with his wife, Pem Jomba who he says is the ‘boss’ in the family. It is Pem who farms their roughly one acre of land in the fertile valley. “We grow rice, maize, brinjal, bitter eggplant, lai saag (mustard leaf), onion and cauliflower,” he says. The family consume most of the rice, millets and vegetables they grow, and sometimes sell any extra produce in the weekly market of Rama camp in Dirang block.

The couple have five children – two daughters and three sons. Both girls Rinchin Wangmu and Sang Drema are married and sometimes drop in. The elder son Pem Dondup lives in Mumbai and works as a chef in a hotel and manages to visit only once in two years. Leiki Khandu, the middle son, is a musician and part of a sustainable tourism initiative in the valley. Nim Tashi, his younger son works in Dirang town.The Monpa community trace their origin to Tibet, and many are Buddhists, skilled in wood work, weaving and painting. Their numbers are 43,709 according to this 2013 government <a href="https://ruralindiaonline.org/en/library/resource/statistical-profile-of-scheduled-tribes-in-india-2013/">report</a>.Karchung is not only a musician but also a maker of percussion instruments in his free time. “A drum [locally called chilling] costs around 10,000 rupees in the market. In my leisure time, I can make mine,” he tells PARI. He breaks into song when we request him to sing, seated in the backyard of his shop, surrounded by the vegetables and corn they grow. These oral songs have been passed down through generations and some have words with Tibetan origins which he struggles to explain to us.

Monpa wedding song:Mazange Bomo Rogzang mo Rizange bomo janzangmuLonpo ngala yowe dadar de Duizang naka nange dadarZukso chake ne Gepa umze chenge dungveNungma chisumo dene ne Tsari langkor nungma Gola karve grone ne Thangkar kepoi kro yinGola karve bumpa ne Yeshi Khando me gru yin Sun danga sugi jamo yin Diring lonpo ngalang jamo yinRough translation Daughter of beautiful and good mother The girl’s eye is like goldThe girl wore a beautiful attire And everyone likes the girlDadar* worn by the girl Makes her more beautifulMetal on the Dadar Made by God of iron is her jewelleryBamboo from the Dadar Brought from Lhasa (Tibet)The stone on the Dadar From milk of angel Yeshi KhandromaFeather on the top From Thung thung karmo***Dadar is a ritual arrow. It is used for summoning life-forces, longevity, good luck and prosperity. The colourful ribbons attached represent the five elements and the five Dakinis. Dadar is rotated clockwise in rituals and Buddhist temples **Thung thung karmo or feather of the Black-necked crane - a Himalayan bird famous for its long travels at high altitudes

The wedding singer

ਵਿਆਹਾਂ ਵਿੱਚ ਗਾਉਣ ਵਾਲੇ ਗਵਈਏ

बियाह-सादी में गावे-बजावे वाला करचुंग

কারচুং সাহেবের গানে মাতে মোনপা বিয়ের আসর

شادیوں کا گلوکار

ବାହାଘର ଗାୟକ

शादियों का गवैया

લગ્નગાયક

పెళ్ళిళ్ళ పాటగాడు

বিয়াৰ গীত গোৱা লোকজন

மண விழா பாடகர்

ಮದುವೆ ಮನೆ ಹಾಡುಗಾರ

വിവാഹ ഗായകൻ

बिहाव गीत गवेइय्या

01-_AMI7454-RM-A_shrine_to_love_in_the_desert.jpg

&quot;This mazār [tomb] is a makeshift
arrangement we built. The original shrine of Savla Pir is strategically placed on
the Indo-Pak maritime border,” says 70-year-old spiritual leader of Fakirani
Jats, Aga Khan Savlani. The provisional structure he is referring to is a small,
lone, light-green, humble mausoleum standing in the middle of a huge open space
near Pipar hamlet in Lakhpat taluka; in a few hours it will be bustling
with people who have come to celebrate the Savla Pir festival.



The original shrine is on an island that is
closed for worship since 2019 due to security reasons. The Border Security
Force (BSF) now has a post in that location. “Prior to Independence the fair
was held at Savla Pir’s home on the island in Kori Creek across from Koteshwar.
At that time, Jat breeders from Sindh in present-day Pakistan would travel by
boat to attend and offer their prayers,” says a Biocultural Community Protocol.




It has been the tradition in the region for
both Hindu and Muslim families from all castes to attend the fair and offer
prayers. The fair, organised by the community, is an annual event, taking place
on the third or fourth day of the Chaitra Month of the Gujarati calendar, which
is around March and April. 



“At Savla Pir&#39;s shrine, everyone is welcome to
pray; there is no bias. Anyone may come and ask for their well-being. You wait
till late evening and see for yourself how the crowd is like,&quot; says Sonu
Jat in his late 40s, a resident of Pipar hamlet in Kachchh. There are about 50
to 80 Fakirani Jat families living in the hamlet.

Fakirani Jats herd camels and have lived for
generations in arid and semi-arid areas of coastal Kachchh. They keep an
indigenous camel breed known as Kharai as well Kutchi camels. Pastoralists by
occupation they have led a nomadic life for centuries. Traditionally, they have
been seen as dairy farmers, supplying essential commodities like butter, ghee,
milk, wool and manure to urban towns and villages. Their herds include sheep,
goats, buffaloes, cows and other indigenous breeds. But they see themselves as
camel breeders first, moving around the region with their camels and families.
Fakirani women actively take care for the herd and look after the new-born
camels. 



“But initially we were not camel keepers,” says
Umar Haji Suleman, a Sufi poet from the region. “Once two Rabari brothers had a
disagreement over owning a camel,” he says as he begins to tell the story
behind Fakirani Jat’s livelihood. “To resolve their dispute, they went to our
revered saint Savla Pir, who created a camel out of beeswax and asked the
brothers to choose between the real one and the one he created from beeswax.
The elder brother quickly chose the living camel and left. The younger one, Devidas
Rabari, was left with the wax camel. The saint blessed Devidas and assured him
that a camel herd will follow Devidas on his return journey. His herd would
grow if he promised not to look back till he reached home. 



“Devidas could not keep his curiosity in check
and turned back just before reaching home. There was a sizable number of camels
following him, but now that he had broken the promise the numbers stopped growing.
Savla Pir had also told Devidas, that if he should find himself with too many
camels, he should entrust them to the care of the Jats. This is why even today,
Jat communities take care of camels assigned to them by the Rabaris,” he says.
“And as you can see since then everyone here has been following Savla Pir.” 



Fakirani Jats are Muslims, and &#39;Savla Pir&#39;,
who lived about 400 years ago with his camel herd on an island in Kori Creek is
their beloved Sufi saint. And like every year, this year too, they have
organised a two-day fair - Savla Pir no melo - in Lakhpat. On April 28
and 29, 2024.

The fair is bustling event, a riot of colours,
sounds, activities, and emotions. The Jats set up a pandal above a large
platform they have readied for the evening performance; small shops for
clothes, food, utensils, and handicrafts are springing up. A group of elderly men
drinking tea notice and greet me saying, “we are so glad you came from so far
to be a part of the festival.&#39;&#39; 



There are many pilgrims arriving at the fair
by now -- on foot, in automobiles, but mostly in groups in a tempo traveller. There
are a large number of women at the fair, dressed in vibrant colours, reluctant
to talk or be photographed. 



It is 9 p.m. when the drummers begin to play
the music. A slow-paced and rhythmic beat reverberates through the air. One
elderly man suddenly bursts into a song of devotion, a song sung in Sindhi for Savla
Pir. In a few minutes more people join him in the singing. A few others form a
circle and begin to dance, keeping pace with the song and the drumbeats, slowly
walking into midnight. 

The next day April 29th, the main day of the
festival, begins with religious talks given by community leaders from the
morning. The shops are set, people are pouring in to seek blessings, to enjoy
the fair.

&quot;We are ready for the procession;
everyone, please gather at the praying area.&quot; A loud voice announces at 3
p.m. Crowds of men holding above their heads little wooden boats adorned with a
white sail and burgee on the mast with colourful embroidery, roar with joy, singing,
and chanting the name of Savla Pir as they circle through the fair before rushing
towards the shrine amidst the blinding light and dust clouds. The boat
represents Savla Pir&#39;s presence because the saint used to travel between
islands through creeks in his boat. 



“I come here every year. We need the blessings
of Savla baba,” says Jayesh Rabari, 40, who I meet during the fair. He
has come from Anjar. “We spend the entire night here. Have tea with Fakirani
brothers and when the celebrations end, we go home with a happy heart.” 



“When my family faces any problem or hardship,
we come here to offer prayers and things get resolved. I have been coming here
for last 14 years,” says 30-year-old Geeta Ben Rabari, who has walked all the
way from Bhuj to be at the fair. 



“All religion is fundamentally based on Love.
Remember that without love, there is no religion,” says poet Umar Haji Suleman
when I go to bid adieu after two days of festivities.

A shrine to love in the desert

ریگستان میں محبت سے منسوب ایک مزار

वाळवंटातला प्यारा पीर

ਮਾਰੂਥਲ ਵਿੱਚ ਵੀ ਮੁਹੱਬਤ ਦਾ ਸੁਨੇਹਾ ਦਿੰਦੀ ਮਜ਼ਾਰ

કચ્છના સુકા રણમાં મોહબ્બતની દરગાહ

பாலைவனத்தில் அன்புக்கான வழிபாட்டுத் தலம்

रेगिस्तान में प्रेम का पैग़ाम देती एक दरगाह

മരുഭൂമിയിൽ സ്നേഹത്തിനായി ഒരു മന്ദിരം

ಮರಳುಗಾಡಿನಲ್ಲೊಂದು ಪ್ರೇಮ ಮಂದಿರ

মৰুৰাজ্যত প্ৰেমৰ তীৰ্থক্ষেত্র

रेगिस्तान मं मया के  मंदिर

মরুদেশে প্রেমের প্রতীক সাওলা পীরের মাজার

रेगिस्तान में भाईचारा आ प्रेम के दरगाह

ମରୁଭୂମିରେ ପ୍ରେମର ଏକ ପୂଜାପୀଠ

01-SS-01-NM_and_ST-Patialas_evergreen_phulkari_artisans.jpg

Shashi Rupeja is
not completely sure but she does think she first caught her husband’s eye while she was embroidering. “He must have seen me threading phulkari and thought I was hardworking,” Shashi says laughing at
the happy memory, a half-finished phulkari piece in her hands.

It is a winter’s day in Punjab and Shashi is sitting with her
friend Bimla in her neighbourhood, enjoying the mild winter sun. Their hands
are busy as they chit-chat, discussing their everyday lives. But their
attention never wavers from the sharp needles they hold with coloured threads
that are making phulkari patterns on
the cloth. 

“There was a time
when women in every household here would embroider phulkari pieces,” says the 56-year-old resident of Patiala city, as
she adds another careful stitch to the flower she had been embroidering on a
red dupatta. 



Phulkari is an embroidery style with floral patterns and is commonly used on
garments like dupatta, salwar kameez and saree. The design is first traced on
the garment with ink using carved wooden blocks. Artisans then embroider in and
around the markings with colourful silk and cotton threads sourced locally
from Patiala city.

“Our locality
Tripuri has always been famous for phulkari,”
says Shashi, who moved from neighbouring Haryana to Punjab’s Patiala district
when she got married nearly four decades ago. Shashi was 18 years old when she had come to visit her sister married in Tripuri, and learnt phulkari “simply by observing the women here,&quot; she says. A year or so later, Shashi herself was married to Vinod Kumar who was a local resident.

Phulkari, for which Punjab, Haryana and
Rajasthan received a Geographical Indication (GI) tag in 2010, is commonly practiced by women in this region who are seeking to work from home.
They usually form collectives of 20-50 artisans and divide the commissioned
embroidery work.

“These days, only a
few continue to make phulkari pieces
by hand,” says Shashi. The cheaper machine-made embroidery is slowly taking over. Even
so, the markets are teeming with the craft – in Tripuri there are numerous
shops in the main market that sell phulkari
garments, both hand- and machine-made. 



Shashi received her first earnings from the craft at the age of 23. She
bought and embroidered 10 sets of salwar kameez and sold them to local
customers, earning a total of Rs. 1,000. Embroidering phulkari has supported her household through tough times, Shashi
says – “Besides educating the children, there were many expenses.”

Shashi’s husband
was a tailor and facing losses when she first began working. When his health
deteriorated and he was forced to work less, Shashi took charge. “When my
husband returned home from a pilgrimage, he was surprised to find that I had
changed the setting of his tailoring shop,” Shashi says, recalling how she had
removed his sewing machine and added threads and blocks for tracing designs.
She accomplished all this with her savings of Rs. 5,000. 

The seasoned embroiderer recalls travelling to busy areas like Lahori Gate in Patiala city
to sell phulkari-embroidered goods
crafted by her. She even took the train to Ambala district 50 kms away to sell
door-to-door. “With my husband, I organised exhibitions of phulkari garments in Jodhpur, Jaisalmer and Karnal,” Shashi adds.
Eventually tiring of the hectic schedule, she moved out of her sales role and
now embroiders as a hobby. Her son, 35-year-old Deepanshu Rupeja manages the
business of selling phulkari garments
and works with artisans across Patiala. 



“Handmade phulkari garments
remain much in demand despite the advent of machine-embroidered pieces,”
Deepanshu notes. Other than the finesse, the difference between the two styles
is also in their pricing. A handcrafted phulkari
dupatta is sold for Rs. 2,000, but a machine-made one fetches a price
between Rs. 500-Rs. 800.















“We pay artisans based on the number of flowers
embroidered and the complexity of the design,” Deepanshu explains. The remuneration also depends on the skill of the artisan – ranging from Rs. 3 to Rs. 16 for every embroidered flower. One of the artisans Deepanshu works with is 55-year-old Balwinder Kaur.
A resident of Patiala district’s Miyal village, Balwinder travels to
Deepanshu’s shop in Tripuri – some 30 kms away – about 3-4 times every month.
There she receives threads and garments with inked phulkari designs over which she embroiders.

Balwinder says she can place 100 flowers on a salwar kameez in just two days. “No one
formally taught me to embroider phulkari,”
says Balwinder, who has been practising this craft since
she was 19 years old. “My family did not own any land nor did we have a
government job,” says Balwinder, who has three children. Her husband used to be
a daily wage worker but was unemployed when she first began working. 



Balwinder recalls her mother saying, “hun jo teri kismat hai tenu mil geya hai. Hun kujh na kujh kar, tey kha
[You&#39;ve got what&#39;s in your fate. Now do any work you find, and feed
yourselves].” Some of her acquaintances would take up bulk orders for phulkari embroidery from garment sellers
in Tripuri. “I told them that I needed money and asked if they would let me
embroider a dupatta. And they did.”



Initially when Balwinder was commissioned garments for phulkari,
sellers would seek a security deposit from her. She would often have to deposit
a substantial sum of Rs. 500. But soon, “the sellers gained trust in my skill,”
says Balwinder, adding that now every major seller of phulkari garments in Tripuri knows her. “There is no dearth of
work,&quot; Balwinder says. She is now commissioned about 100 pieces to embroider
every month and has even built a collective of phulkari artisans to whom she passes on some of the work. “I do not wish to depend on
anyone,” she adds.



When Balwinder started working nearly 35 years ago, she used to earn Rs.
60 for embroidering a dupatta. Now
she earns about Rs. 2,500 for one requiring intricate work. Some of Balwinder’s
hand-embroidered pieces are carried as gifts by people travelling abroad. “My
work travels to many countries – America, Canada. I feel good that my work is going to foreign
countries even when I haven&#39;t gone there myself,” she says with pride. This story is supported by a fellowship from Mrinalini Mukherjee Foundation (MMF).

In Patiala, the thriving craft of phulkari

পাটিয়ালাত নিপুণ হাতত বাচি আছে ফুলকাৰী

பாடியாலாவில் தழைக்கும் ஃபுல்காரி கலை

પટિયાલામાં સદાબહાર ખીલતી ફૂલકારીની કળા

ಪಟಿಯಾಲ: ಅಭಿವೃದ್ಧಿ ಕಾಣುತ್ತಿರುವ ಫುಲ್ಕಾರಿ ಕಲೆ

पटियाला में फलती-फूलती फुलकारी कला

पटियाला मं फरत-फूलत फुलकारी कला

പാട്യാലയിൽ നിലനിൽക്കുന്ന ഫുൽക്കാരി കല

‘फुलकारी काढ़-काढ़ के हम आपन घर बनइनी’

মেয়েদের ফুলকারি সূচিকর্মের দৌলতে পাটিয়ালার রমরমা

پٹیالہ میں پھلکاری کا پھلتا پھولتا کاروبار

ਪਟਿਆਲਾ, ਜਿੱਥੇ ਫੁਲਕਾਰੀ ਦੀ ਚਮਕ ਕਦੇ ਫਿੱਕੀ ਨਹੀਂ ਪੈਂਦੀ

ପାଟିଆଲାର ସମୃଦ୍ଧ ଫୁଲକାରୀ କାରିଗରୀ

పటియాలాలో ఫుల్‌కారీ కళ వికాసం

पतियाळाच्या फुलकारीचे रंगढंग

Feature_Image-HCS-Bodo_dancers_and_musicians.jpg

It’s
nearly noon and dancer Golapi Goyari is ready and waiting at home. She is
adjusting the yellow-striped dokhona
wrapped around her body when eight school-going girls arrive, all dressed in
matching dokhonas and red aronais (stoles), traditional to the
Bodo community of Assam.“I
teach these young girls our Bodo dances,” says Golapi, a Bodo herself and a
resident of Goalgaon village in Baksa district. Baksa
alongwith Kokrajhar, Udalguri and Chirang districts form Bodoland – officially
the Bodoland Territorial Region (BTR). This autonomous region is predominantly
inhabited by the Bodo people, listed as a Scheduled Tribe in Assam, among other
indigenous communities. BTR lies on the banks of the Brahmaputra river below
the foothills of Bhutan and Arunachal Pradesh. “They also perform at local festivals and
events,” says Golapi who is in her early thirties. She has offered her home to
host a performance in honour of PARI Founder Editor, journalist P. Sainath, who
was given the 19th UN Brahma Soldier of Humanity Award in November 2022 by the
Upendra Nath Brahma Trust (UNBT).

As
the dancers prepare for this performance, local musicians from Gobardhana block
begin setting up at Golapi’s home. Each of them wears a khot gosla jacket along with green and yellow aronais or mufflers around their heads. These items of clothing are
usually worn by Bodo men during cultural or religious festivals.They
unpack their instruments, commonly played during Bodo festivals: siphung (long flute), kham (drum), and serja (violin). Each instrument is decorated with aronais, patterned with the traditional
“Bonduram” design, and is locally crafted.One of the musicians, Khwrwmdao Basumatary who
will play the kham, addresses the
small audience of locals that have joined in. He informs them that he will
perform the Subunsri and Bagurumba dances. “The Bagurumba is usually performed after the
cultivation of crops during spring season or after harvest, usually during the
Bwisagu festival. It is also performed during marriages with joy.”

Soon
after the dancers take to the stage, Ranjit Basumatary, steps
forward. He ends the show with a solo performance playing the serja. He is one of the few performers
here who also plays in marriages as a source of income. During this time,
Golapi has slipped away, preparing the food she has laboured all morning to
cook for her guests.She lays the table with dishes such as sobai jwng samo (black gram with
snails), fried bhangun fish, onla jwng dau bedor (chicken curry with
a local variety of rice flour), banana flower and pork, jute leaves, rice wine and
bird&#39;s eye chilli; a feast that is relished after watching the captivating
performances from earlier in the day.

Bodo dancers and musicians take the stage

બોડો નર્તકો અને સંગીતકારો ધ્યાન આકર્ષિત કરે છે

மேடையேறும் போடா கலைஞர்கள்

ਬੋਡੋ ਨਾਚੇ ਤੇ ਸੰਗੀਤਕਾਰ ਦਰਸ਼ਕਾਂ ਨੂੰ ਕੀਲ਼ਦੇ ਹੋਏ

ମଞ୍ଚ ଉପରେ ବୋଡୋ ନୃତ୍ୟଶିଳ୍ପୀ ଓ ସଂଗୀତକାର

स्टेज मं बोडो नर्तकी अऊ बाजा बजेइय्या

بوڈو ڈانسروں اور موسیقاروں کی دنیا

వేదికను వెలిగించిన బోడో నృత్యకారులు, సంగీతకారులు

ബോഡോ നർത്തകരും ഗായകരും വേദിയിൽ

ಬೋಡೋ ನೃತ್ಯಗಾರರು ಮತ್ತು ಸಂಗೀತಗಾರರ ಕಲರವ

बोडो डांसरों और संगीतकारों की दुनिया

मंच पर छा गइल बोडो नाच आउर गीत-नाद

বোড়ো জনজাতির নাচগানে মাতোয়ারা মঞ্চ

বড়োসকলৰ নৃত্য-গীত, চিফুঙৰ সুৰ আৰু খামৰ ছেও

बोडो गायक आणि नर्तकांचा कलाविष्कार

FEATURE-IMAGE-BD-Palghar_teacher_pushes_for_Warli.jpg

In our village Palsunde, there are people from seven different tribes of which, the Warli are the largest. I have learned the languages of all seven tribal communities: Warli, Koli Mahadev, Katkari, Ma Thakur, Ka Thakur, Dhor Koli and Malhar Koli. It wasn&#39;t too difficult as this is my birthplace, my karmabhoomi [place of work]; my education took place right here. I am Bhalchandra Ramji Dhangare, a primary school teacher at the Zilla Parishad Primary School in Mokhada. My friends often tell me, “you quickly pick up any language you hear and start speaking it.” When I visit any community, people see me as someone from their own soil, speaking in their own tongue.

While interacting with the children of our Adivasi regions, I realised that they face many challenges during their school education. The Maharashtra government has a rule that teachers working in tribal areas are given a special grade. This grade is awarded because one is required to learn the local language used in day to day life. Here in Mokhada, Warli is the most widely spoken and there are many children who speak the language in school. If we want to teach them English, we first have to introduce the Marathi word for it and then explain the same word in Warli. And then we teach the word in English. This is not an easy situation but children here are very intelligent and hardworking. It is wonderful to communicate with them once they quickly adapt to Marathi – the standard language. However, the overall  level of education here has not reached the same pace as it should have. This is the need of the hour. Nearly 50 per cent of the population is still illiterate and development in the area is also relatively backward.

Until around the 1990s, there was hardly anyone in this area who had studied beyond Class 10. The new generation has slowly begun to pursue formal education. If there are, say, 25 Warli students enrolled in Class 1, only about eight students make it to Class 10. The dropout rate is very high. Out of those eight, only 5-6 pass the exams. Even more students drop out by the time they reach Class 12 so finally only 3-4 students finish school. Pursuing an undergraduate degree is possible at the taluka level – a journey of roughly  10 kilometres. But there is nothing more in the area and  students travel to places like Thane, Nashik or Palghar city for further education. As a result, only about three per cent of the people in this taluka have an undergraduate degree. In the Warli community, the rate of education is particularly low, and efforts are on to improve it. We are also making  greater efforts by visiting villages and communicating with the people in their own language, both to establish a connection and build trust.PARI would like to thank Hemant Shingade from AROEHAN for his help with this documentation.Interview: Medha KaleThis story is part of PARI&#39;s Endangered Languages Project which aims to document vulnerable and endangered languages of the country. Warli is an Indo-aryan language spoken by the Warli or Varli Adivasis in India residing in Gujarat, Daman &amp; Diu, Dadra &amp; Nagar Haveli, Maharashtra, Karnataka and Goa. <a href="https://en.wal.unesco.org/countries/india/languages/varli">UNESCO</a>&#39;s Atlas of languages has listed Varli as one of the potentially vulnerable languages in India. We aim to document the Warli language as spoken in Maharashtra.

Palghar school teacher pushes for Warli

ୱାର୍ଲି ଭାଷାର ପ୍ରସାର ଲାଗି ପାଲଘର ଶିକ୍ଷକଙ୍କ ପ୍ରୟାସ

ਵਾਰਲੀ ਲਈ ਜੱਦੋਜਹਿਦ ਕਰਦਾ ਪਾਲਘਰ ਦਾ ਅਧਿਆਪਕ

പാൽഘറിലെ അധ്യാപകൻ വാർളി ഭാഷയ്ക്കുവേണ്ടി പൊരുതുന്നു

وارلی زبان کو بچانے کی جدوجہد کرتا ایک ٹیچر

వర్లీ భాష కోసం కృషి చేస్తోన్న పాల్‌ఘర్ ఉపాధ్యాయుడు

வார்லி மொழியை ஊக்குவிக்கும் பால்கர் ஆசிரியர்

ವಾರ್ಲಿಯನ್ನು ಉಳಿಸುತ್ತಿರುವ ಪಾಲ್ಘರ್‌ನ ಶಿಕ್ಷಕ

वारली का अस्तित्व बचाने को जूझता पालघर का एक शिक्षक

પાલઘરના શિક્ષક વારલીને પ્રોત્સાહન આપે છે

वारली ला बचाय मं लगे पालघर के गुरुजी

मुअत वारली में प्राण फूंके वाला पालघर मास्टर

ওয়ারলি ভাষার জন্য লড়ছেন পালঘরের এক মাস্টারমশাই

ৱাৰ্লি ভাষা উদ্ধাৰৰ প্ৰচেষ্টা পালঘৰৰ এজন শিক্ষকৰ

आदिवासी विद्यार्थ्यांचा ‘बहुभाषिक’ शिक्षक

01-20240316-JS-Brotherhood_ties.jpg

Kolhapur is known as a (पुरोगामी) progressive city. It carries the legacy of great minds – Shahu, Phule and Ambedkar. People of different religions and castes still work to preserve this heritage of progressive thought, along with respect and friendship among diverse cultures.However, in recent times there have been organised efforts to create discord in a syncretic community. Thoughts should be fought with thoughts. People like Sharfuddin Desai and Sunil Mali are trying to maintain harmony in society.Sharfuddin Desai and Sunil Mali are residents of Tardal village in Kolhapur district of Maharashtra. Sharfuddin Desai has taken up with a Hindu guru while Sunil Mali has attached himself to a Muslim guru.

Brotherhood ties

சகோதரத்துவ உறவுகள்

नफ़रतों के दौर में भाईचारे का बंधन

సోదరత్వ బంధాలు

ਭਾਈਚਾਰੇ ਦੀ ਅਖੰਡਤਾ

भाईचारा के रिश्ता

बंधुभावाचे बंध

സഹോദര്യത്തിന്റെ കെട്ടുകൾ

সৌহার্দ্য-বন্ধন

نفرتوں کے دور میں بھائیچارہ کی مثال

ଭ୍ରାତୃତ୍ୱ ର ବନ୍ଧନ

ಸಹೋದರತ್ವದ ಸವಿ

भाईचारा के डोर में बान्हे के बा देस

ভ্ৰাতৃত্ববোধে আমাক এক কৰে

નફરતની લહેર સામે ભાઈચારાની તરંગ