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Life In Desert
For What is referred to as a desert, Rajasthan
is amazingly populated: its Iandscape scattered
with a number of villages and hamlets, telltale
signs of tree groves and populations of cattle
being the only indication that there is such
a settlement in close proximity. The typical
village has always been difficult to spot till
one is actually upon it. Its simplest hamlets,
the most basic form of civilisation with a way
of life that has probably remained unchanged
since centuries, consists of a collection of
huts that are circular, and have thatched roofs.
The walls are covered with a plaster of clay,
cow dung, and hay, making a termite-free (antiseptic)
facade that blends in with the sand of the countryside
around it. Boundaries for houses and land holdings,
called baras, are made of the dry branches of
a nettle-like, shrub, the long, sharp thorns
a deterrent for straying cattle.
If a hamlet
looks bleak, it is hardly surprising: the resources
for building these homes, which are the most
eco-friendly living unit, are made with what
is available at hand, and in Rajasthan, and
particularly so in its western desert regions,
this can mean precious little. A village that
is even a little larger may have pucca houses,
or larger living units, usually belonging to
the village zamindar family. Consisting of courtyards,
and a large nora or cattle enclosure, attached
to one side or at the entrance, these are made
of a mixture of sun-baked clay bricks covered
with a plaster of lime. Floor are made with
a mixture of pounded lime, limestone pebbles,
and water.
Decorative facades in such unites
are limited to creating a texture in the plaster
in the facade, or using simple lime colours
to create vibrant patterns at the entrance,
and outside the kitchen. These homes capture,
for many of its residents, the only cosmos they
know. For the women, but for visits within the
village community, the only social occasions
were in the nature of pilgrimages which were
usually combined with fairs. But it is when
they step out that the stark desert and the
village break unto a feast of colour: turbans
bob past in saffron and red; skirts billow beneath
mantles that veil the faces of their women -
if they didn't, the jewels that glint on their
foreheads and faces would add to the shocking
surprise of their magentes and oranges, their
blues and greens and pinks. Trims of gold ribbon
add to this feast of colour, and bangles jangle
not just on wrists, but all the way up to the
arms above the elbow. Into the bleak, baking
hamlets of the desert, the people breathe life
that is palpable, carrying in their jaunty strides,
the spirit that is their destiny.
Each village
is a multicommunity settlement, the various
castes creating a structure of dependence based
on the nature of their work. While changes are
being wrought in this structure, with ceilings
on land holding, and with the young seeking
exployment opportunities in towns distant from
their villages, the social fabric has still
not been rent. At the head of the village settlement
are usually the Rajputs, the warrior race whose
kings ruled, till recently, over these lands.
The Rajputs served their kings, joining their
armies, and raising their cavalries, but an
attendant pursuit was as agriculturists. Often,
they employed labour to work on their extensive
fields, and kept cattle for dairy produce: in
fact, the cattle density in Rajasthan is very
high, and milk from desert settlements is supplied
to the large cities close to the state, including
Delhi.
The Rajput homes, therefore, came to
be the fulcrum around which village life revolved.
In their employ were the bards and minstrels
who sang their praises in verse and song; tradesment
supplied them, and the others in the community,
with the goods required for their daily lives,
and this was little, since they grew their grains
on their own lands; the potters and carpenters
were required for their services; and if the
village were large enough, there were also ornament
makers and cloth dyers and printers. The priests
of the Brahmin families cast horoscopes, performed
the elaborate rituals of their festive ceremonies,
and served at the temples.
An intensely religious
people, each home in Rajasthan will have a room
or at least an alcove where they fold their
hands and say their prayers before calendar
images of their gods. To seek benevolence from
their gods, for in this hostile landscape, it
is easy to be superstitious, and they pray to
the terrible image of Kali, the wrathful form
of Shiva's consort, to protect them from the
demons of the elements, and the scrouge of mankind.
Outside their homes, and in their villages,
it is not unusual to find images of local deities
daubed with vermillion, and kept in the gnarled
roots of a peepul tree, or set into the steps
leading to the village pond. There are images
of Bhairuji who keeps a vigilant eye over his
community, and Sagasji who, when propitiated,
can provide a proper harvest. And there is Pathwari
who's task it is to look after those setting
out on journeys and pilgrimages. And there is
the plethora of folk heroes and gods who provide
immunity from everything from snake bites to
cattle diseases. When one lives so close to
the elements, it is natural to want to bow before
them: a little obeisance can mean so much in
the struggle for existence.
Temples may be one of the several
places in a village where people gather, the
others being in front of the shops, or at a
tea-shop, or in the village 'square' which is
usually an old, leafy peeple tree with a large
platform built around it for people to sit on.
Wells are also gathering points, with the men
bringing their sheep and cattle to drink here
in the mornings and evenings, and the women
collecting to fill their earthen pots with water
that they carry home for use in the kitchen,
and for bathing. Since water is so crucial to
their survival, wells are often elaborately
decorated, and have tall pillars that would
indicate their presence for travellers on long
journeys through the desert. Songs about wells,
and walking long distances with pitchers, form
part of the repertoire of music that swells
in the state.
At home, women confine themselves
to the kitchen where rows of shining brass and
copper vessels and platters are lined up on
shelves against the wall. The stove where the
cooking is done is wood fired, into which cow-dung
patties are also fed for fuel. Over this stove,
set into the floor, women place earthen pots
for cooking. The principal meal for to attend
to the day's tasks, and lunch is a frugal meal
of unleavened bread eaten with a spicy chutney
of chillies and garlic. Most meals are vegetarian,
and though they eat meat, the Rajputs too do
not consume it regularly. In the old days, game
would be hunted, and the spoils shared with
families in the village.
With the ban on hunting,
meat now comes from the goats raised in the
communities, but they are slaughtered only for
special occasions, and at the time of festivals
that demand offerings of blood. It is this frugal
diet that keeps the people of Rajasthan in fine
fettle, slender of build, and not given to fat,
and with a posture that is erect. Betrothals,
marriages, even deaths are occasions for the
entire village to come together, as much in
a show of solidarity as of participation in
each other's good times and bad. Cooking for
wedding feasts calls for the cooks to dig pits
under the ground where the fires will be lit
for the huge cauldrons in which the food will
be prepared. The entire village dresses up festively
to welcome the wedding procession, and the Dholis
and others of the singing caste lead the party
to the house where the wedding is being celebration
can last for a few days, and can become the
social event of the season. Just as the women
adorn themselves, and decorate their houses,
and the men wear rings in their ears and slip
their feet into gaily embroidered shoes, so
too it is not unusual for them to create special
jewellery for their camels, or to cut their
coats in intricate motifs. The camel is the
beast of burden ideally suited to the desert.
Its ability to store enough water in its stomach
to last it for a few days makes it ideal for
long distance travel along routes where even
wells may be a rarity.
No wonder there is such
close amity between the long-legged beast and
its owner. From transport to plouging in the
fields to pulling carts, the camel even provides
milk though its sweet, thick consistency is
not pleasing for everybody. In death, its hide
finds use for converting into leather for saddles,
bags and shoes. A visitor will find smoke still
curling from the kitchen window-modern, gas-fired
stoves have still not arrived in the village
of the desert. The postman carries mail on camelback.
Most villages now boast electricity, though
strong gusts of wind can interrupt its supply,
so that the twinkling lights of kerosene lamps
still illumine the night. The government has
provided telephone lines, and even the smallest
village has at least one such service: but this
is its contact with the world inside. Of what
other use would the villagers have for telephones,
where their neighbour's are no more than a shout
away ? The television is a new marvel in their
homes, something they watch when there is electricity,
but from which they are strangely detached:
it reflects far removed from their own. And
a network of roads means that they can travel
more easily between villages, and to the neighbouring
towns.
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