Beyond Palaces and Royalties
A vast expanse of water as far as you can see, held up a roseate sky as the glorious sun was seen receding somewhere down the horizon. Coupled with a super big moon beaming in its white golden hue commanded its presence, across the three spheres. It was a rare sight of a twilight when the azure firmament belonged to both the celestial bodies. The ducks and the kingfishers shared their thought of the day with a whistle here and a chirp there. The smoke clouds fleeted by obscuring the hills in parts. The magnificent moon in between the creeks of the leafless branches provided a perfect mise-en-scene for nature to play its role. I felt as if hypnotized by the simplicity of Nature and the silence which seemed totally compatible with the people who habituated this land. That is how a mundane monsoon sunset in Jhadol Perched on the folds of Aravali usually looks like. Situated 50 kilometres from the famous city of Udaipur in Rajasthan, Jhadol is home to the ancient tribal group named Bhil presiding as the Tehsil of a hundred odd villages.
The term “Bhil” comes from the word “Bil” which means bow. This community has justified its name many times in the course of history through an impeccable expertise on archery. Their antiquity dates back to the days of Ramayana & Mahabharata and mythology says they were the ones to conceive legendary figures such as Valmiki and Ekalavya. Even today every Bhil household possesses a much-revered archery kit preserved from the bygone days. This is a place where time is matched with nature’s footsteps; people get up with the sun and sleep with it. The predominant languages in this area are Mewari, Wagdi, and Shekhavati but the dialect keeps changing at a minimum interval of five kilometers. I at times wondered at the brilliant mélange even one single culture in India can portray. The population of each village varies according to the terrain, apart from a few most of them are scattered with one little mud hut on top of a mangra (hill top). A mixed social structure consisting of Rajputs, Patels and Bhils lives together in mutual harmony, although, when looked from a closer distance certain instances of caste distinctions are still to be found amongst the upper and lower ones. Rajput students blatantly deny sitting along with the tribals during their midday meal in school and teachers look down upon these kids as good for nothing people. Even amongst all this, I was always greeted with a warm smile and “Kathe zairiyo?” (Where are you heading to?), every time I met someone on the road be it a stranger or not. A picturesque view of humility thriving in an oral culture made me feel how unbefitting are the stringent concepts of our modern day life the moment we cross the line from urban to rural. Here, time, age, dates nothing is worthier than a pea. I still remember chatting with an old man about his childhood days (of course with a translator). On being asked about his age, he replied with a three digit number when he absolutely could not have been anything more than seventy! A hundred years to them is synonymous to describing a lot of years. Here nobody keeps a track of years, nobody knows how old they or even their children are, or still on what dates they were born. The tribal people are very happy go lucky and swing to the music of nature, come spring and all of their clan is seen to be picking Mahua flowers to make their favorite liquor. The children do not come to school making the teachers angrier for they are the ones especially employed for this task.
As soon as the monsoon arrives, the Aravali is adorned with gushing rivulets and one can see women relaxing in the serene waters, bathing all naked. Open defecation might be a sanitary issue for the modernized world, but here every village has a trench which is dedicated for this purpose with separate places allotted for males and females. So, what I see here are people without any inhibitions regarding the things that are natural to human beings. With Indian urban culture, the notion of physical strength is basically associated with men which nullify the instant you step into the humble world of Bhils. Women carry a huge pile of logs on their head meandering through the mountains, up and down hill. No matter how harsh the extremities of weather might me, nature has her way of solicitude. Seldom do we catch cattle being addressed as “beta” and called by their pet names anywhere else than this exquisite abode of unostentatious living. Sitting on top of a hill in the quietude of a summer noon, often will you hear a faint voice of a shepherdess floating by “ Aako aako daaro, dungra mate khoiyo, aivas elu daaro”, singing the song of the forest. Undeniably, this place has more than we can see; it beholds the stories of strength and the unavowed tales of freedom.
So, if you are one of those who finds the charms of a commercial tourist place not so charming to your nature-loving heart, then a road trip to Jhadol is what you should look up to. This is where you will get the real essence of Rajasthan in a fascinating way ever possible. The Rajasthan that lies beyond palaces and royalties.
