CHANDRELIA'S JEEVAN AND MALLA
A few months after we met Magan, we met another boy of a similar age but from a totally different background. Jeevan was the son of Merubhai, the Koli (a 'backward class' Hindu community) village headman of Chandrelia. A small time contractor, Merubhai was relatively prosperous, owning a tractor and a reasonable patch of agriculture land. A small time politician to the core, he spent substantial time bowing to the powers-that-be, which included the local politicians, the bureaucrats, the influential village elders…..well, just about anyone who could ensure that a small contract comes his way. So much so that he had perennially got into the habit with his head half-bowed, hands folded respectfully and a rather indulgent type of hospitality – none of which went down well with our colleague, Shashi, (or 'Havsibhai' as he was referred to in the villages - known for his direct, no-nonsense approach who was responsible for overseeing work in a cluster of villages that included Chandrelia), who found Merubhai’s sycophancy disgusting, difficult to handle and always was suspicious of him. Infact, the very sight of Meru irked Shashi, almost to the point of angering him.
Jeevan was quite a contrast, and that is what attracted us to him. A boy quite tall for his age, he would be eager to come and chat with us, look at our writing pads, play around with our pen, question us about our work with an ease and confidence that did not go quite well with his father who felt that he was taking too much of liberty with the ‘Aga Khan saheb-log (officers)’ !. It used to be quite a strange sight at times – Merubhai, sitting on the floor in front of us, shoulders bent, respectfully, refusing to sit beside us on the cot he would have laid out, while Jeevan sitting right next to us and interacting with us without any inhibition.
As a teenager and that too, from a relatively better off family in a small village of about 40 households, Jeevan commanded the respect of his peers and the kids younger than him. They looked up to him because he could write, utter a few words in English, felt free to put his arm around our shoulders like a friend would. He could also read and write (which few other children could), rode a bicycle and even knew how to ride a tractor ! And Jeevan befriending us meant that the other kids (well, boys only, ofcourse !) also became our friends.
Soon, we started having regular meetings with the group of boys under Jeevan’s ‘leadership’. It was so refreshingly different from dealing with difficult adults ! Talking to them about anything under the sun was great fun. They also wanted to do some work to ‘develop’ their village. That was the time our colleague, Depinder, was engaged in the social forestry project on public wastelands. We hence talked to the kids about planting fruit trees in front of their homes and caring for them, an idea they jumped on ! The seedlings were given to Jeevan who then took personal responsibility to not just distribute these equally, but also to monitor its growth. He would proudly show us a notebook which he referred to as his ‘register’ and with great importance, towel wrapped around his neck, his ink stained fingers holding a pen, would walk around the village, checking each sapling and marking a tick against the name of the child who was responsible for that tree. And all that the children got in return was an approving nod from their ‘leader’ !
In spite of us being a fairly common sight in the village, not many children were comfortable talking to us on a one-to-one basis, unless prompted by Jeevan or an adult. But one of them, Malla, came out of his shell eventually.
A 11-year old, he belonged to the Vanjara community (traditional nomadic group, who were gradually settling down in permanent habitations). His family was headed by his widowed mother, Buriben, a young, articulate woman, with a great degree of self-confidence and self-esteem, who had decided to bring up Malla and his younger sister by herself, working on her small farm, without depending on anyone else. Malla was constantly beside her, helping her with the ploughing, weeding, grazing and everything else than a young man from a farming community would be expected to do. Naturally, he could not go to school, having had to drop out soon after his father’s untimely death. Kana, the head of the Vanjaras and a close pal of Meru, and the rest of his community were also not too helpful to Buriben and her children, though they were one of the poorest families in the village.
Fortunately, Buriben was noticed in one of the meetings which was held to identify those who would raise a nursery of seedlings for the social forestry project. While Buriben went around raising one of the best nurseries that year with ruthless efficiency, it was the pride on Malla’s face that was truly worth noticing. We just had to visit the nursery each time we went there, for Malla had put in immense amount of work alongside his mother. In addition, Malla was also part of Jeevan’s gang and one of the keenest kids in raising fruit trees on his homestead. Malla also provided us interesting insights into the small politics in the village as he understood – the rivalry between the Kolis and Vanjaras (in spite of the friendship between their respective leaders, which was obviously to protect their own personal interests), the way his mother was uncared for because of being a widow and many more…..But these adversities were not demanding enough to wipe out Malla’s smile or his enthusiasm. His dream ? He wanted to own a good patch of irrigated land where he could grow enough crops and trees to feed the family and meet their needs.
Jeevan must be 37 now and Malla must be 33. I keep wondering about the paths they may have chosen. Would they now be leaders or role models for the youth of their respective communities of their villages ? Would they have left the village and taken up work in a city nearby ? I don’t know. But what I do feel is that they must be doing pretty well in life. Both had shown a great deal of enthusiasm to what was happening in their village. Both were part of a process of change at a very impressionable age in their lives. Both must have imbibed some valuable principles and lessons in their lives, learning from what they saw happening with such keenness. Or would they ?
A few months after we met Magan, we met another boy of a similar age but from a totally different background. Jeevan was the son of Merubhai, the Koli (a 'backward class' Hindu community) village headman of Chandrelia. A small time contractor, Merubhai was relatively prosperous, owning a tractor and a reasonable patch of agriculture land. A small time politician to the core, he spent substantial time bowing to the powers-that-be, which included the local politicians, the bureaucrats, the influential village elders…..well, just about anyone who could ensure that a small contract comes his way. So much so that he had perennially got into the habit with his head half-bowed, hands folded respectfully and a rather indulgent type of hospitality – none of which went down well with our colleague, Shashi, (or 'Havsibhai' as he was referred to in the villages - known for his direct, no-nonsense approach who was responsible for overseeing work in a cluster of villages that included Chandrelia), who found Merubhai’s sycophancy disgusting, difficult to handle and always was suspicious of him. Infact, the very sight of Meru irked Shashi, almost to the point of angering him.
Jeevan was quite a contrast, and that is what attracted us to him. A boy quite tall for his age, he would be eager to come and chat with us, look at our writing pads, play around with our pen, question us about our work with an ease and confidence that did not go quite well with his father who felt that he was taking too much of liberty with the ‘Aga Khan saheb-log (officers)’ !. It used to be quite a strange sight at times – Merubhai, sitting on the floor in front of us, shoulders bent, respectfully, refusing to sit beside us on the cot he would have laid out, while Jeevan sitting right next to us and interacting with us without any inhibition.
As a teenager and that too, from a relatively better off family in a small village of about 40 households, Jeevan commanded the respect of his peers and the kids younger than him. They looked up to him because he could write, utter a few words in English, felt free to put his arm around our shoulders like a friend would. He could also read and write (which few other children could), rode a bicycle and even knew how to ride a tractor ! And Jeevan befriending us meant that the other kids (well, boys only, ofcourse !) also became our friends.
Soon, we started having regular meetings with the group of boys under Jeevan’s ‘leadership’. It was so refreshingly different from dealing with difficult adults ! Talking to them about anything under the sun was great fun. They also wanted to do some work to ‘develop’ their village. That was the time our colleague, Depinder, was engaged in the social forestry project on public wastelands. We hence talked to the kids about planting fruit trees in front of their homes and caring for them, an idea they jumped on ! The seedlings were given to Jeevan who then took personal responsibility to not just distribute these equally, but also to monitor its growth. He would proudly show us a notebook which he referred to as his ‘register’ and with great importance, towel wrapped around his neck, his ink stained fingers holding a pen, would walk around the village, checking each sapling and marking a tick against the name of the child who was responsible for that tree. And all that the children got in return was an approving nod from their ‘leader’ !
In spite of us being a fairly common sight in the village, not many children were comfortable talking to us on a one-to-one basis, unless prompted by Jeevan or an adult. But one of them, Malla, came out of his shell eventually.
A 11-year old, he belonged to the Vanjara community (traditional nomadic group, who were gradually settling down in permanent habitations). His family was headed by his widowed mother, Buriben, a young, articulate woman, with a great degree of self-confidence and self-esteem, who had decided to bring up Malla and his younger sister by herself, working on her small farm, without depending on anyone else. Malla was constantly beside her, helping her with the ploughing, weeding, grazing and everything else than a young man from a farming community would be expected to do. Naturally, he could not go to school, having had to drop out soon after his father’s untimely death. Kana, the head of the Vanjaras and a close pal of Meru, and the rest of his community were also not too helpful to Buriben and her children, though they were one of the poorest families in the village.
Fortunately, Buriben was noticed in one of the meetings which was held to identify those who would raise a nursery of seedlings for the social forestry project. While Buriben went around raising one of the best nurseries that year with ruthless efficiency, it was the pride on Malla’s face that was truly worth noticing. We just had to visit the nursery each time we went there, for Malla had put in immense amount of work alongside his mother. In addition, Malla was also part of Jeevan’s gang and one of the keenest kids in raising fruit trees on his homestead. Malla also provided us interesting insights into the small politics in the village as he understood – the rivalry between the Kolis and Vanjaras (in spite of the friendship between their respective leaders, which was obviously to protect their own personal interests), the way his mother was uncared for because of being a widow and many more…..But these adversities were not demanding enough to wipe out Malla’s smile or his enthusiasm. His dream ? He wanted to own a good patch of irrigated land where he could grow enough crops and trees to feed the family and meet their needs.
Jeevan must be 37 now and Malla must be 33. I keep wondering about the paths they may have chosen. Would they now be leaders or role models for the youth of their respective communities of their villages ? Would they have left the village and taken up work in a city nearby ? I don’t know. But what I do feel is that they must be doing pretty well in life. Both had shown a great deal of enthusiasm to what was happening in their village. Both were part of a process of change at a very impressionable age in their lives. Both must have imbibed some valuable principles and lessons in their lives, learning from what they saw happening with such keenness. Or would they ?
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