LIVING IN TARASHIV

Apoorva and I were gradually getting used to living in Tarashiv - our winter of 1983 ! As part of our Rural Management course, this fieldwork (of staying in a village) was meant to be our rural orientation and help us understand the dynamics of rural India.

But what we just couldn’t get ourselves to was to take a dip in the village pond. We had seen the several uses it had been put to – from washing hands after performing the morning ablutions to washing cattle. We had also come to know that the men rarely ventured out far into the fields for their morning job. They preferred to squat behind the far end of the earthern bund of the pond, so that the process of cleaning was much easier. They just had to walk up and over the bund and get down in the water, obviating the need for a lota (a small pot that is normally used to take water when going for answering the call of nature !) or a plastic mug, which always ran the risk of water being spilt. While the nature’s calls couldn’t go unanswered, we could certainly afford not to take bath. It was winter and just washing our face, hands, feet and sprinkling a little water on our heads made us feel fresh enough. And that’s how we managed for the first 10 days.

But at the end of it, one of the villagers asked us casually, “Don’t you guys take bath” ? We were taken aback. We didn’t realize that our ways of living were being noticed. “Why do you ask”, we shot back. “Well, we see you brushing, go out with your lotas, washing your face and hands sitting on the verandah, but we have never seen you go to the pond for a bath”. Now how could we put forth our reservations of getting into the pond ? “What time do you normally have your bath”, I asked the person questioning me. “We bathe early in the morning. By 8 or so in the morning, we are through”, he said. “Ah, that’s what ! We bathe a little late”, I said, “as we find the water too cold in the morning.” “That’s understandable”, this person said. “But then our women folk go later in the day and they have to spend a lot of time there, for they have to wash the clothes too. They don’t seem to have seen you either !”. “That’s precisely the point”, I said. “We know that your women folk come there later in the day and to avoid them too, we take bath after they are through”.

That answer seemed to satisfy their lingering doubts about our levels of personal hygiene. We had also scored a point by negating any lurking thoughts they may have about being lecherous at the village pond especially when their women were bathing ! We were gaining some respectability, after all, but then, we also need to provide evidence that we do what we said we were doing.

So one day, we mustered enough courage to take a dip in the pond, setting aside all reservations about the various activities that took place in and around the pond. It was important as being seen to be conscious about and practising our personal hygiene ! On the appointed day, we called out to Somu to inform us that we were going to the pond, so that at least one family can support our evidence of bathing. As we made our way to the pond which our towels and soap boxes prominently displayed, we met a few other people and without being asked, made it a point to say that we were going to have our bath. I am sure they were wondering why we should be announcing our bath !

So there we were at the pond. Without thinking too much about the water, we plunged in, noisily enough to baffle the cool buffaloes who were perhaps used to spending their time in the water without being disbursed. We rushed out of the water just as quickly as we plunged in. And as we dried ourselves in the afternoon sun, we felt a strange sense of baptism, or now being assimilated in some strange way into the life of Tarashiv.

Those two months of living in a village (Tarashiv) and in a small town (Rajim) helped us understand a lot about rural India. The gentle pace of life, the deep relationship with land and agriculture, the role of livestock in the economy of the family, the distant relationship with cities – these were very new for us. The milk van in the evening that came to collect the evening collection was our main connection with the external world. It brought to us letters from our family and friends. More importantly, in the absence of a telephone and transport facilities, it connected us to our friends in Kesda and Bhiladi. The milk van would first come to Kesda, then to Bhiladi and then to Tarashiv. So it meant that in addition to letters from afar, we could also potentially receive notes from Shankar and Sudhir in Kesda, and Ashu in Bhiladi.

For Apoorva and me, it became an important event in the day to look forward to, spending, at time, almost two hours by the side of the road in the evenings, a kilometer or so from our village, waiting for the milk van to arrive. And ofcourse, there would be disappointments. On many days, there were no letters and on some days, the milk van would just not come because of a breakdown, the driver’s illness or his personal problems (those were the days when he had just entered into a polygamous arrangement, having taken a second wife without divorcing the first one, who in turn, was once a second wife because of a previous wife, who then divorced him !).

Just twenty, and that age to spend time in a sleepy village, 60 kms from the nearest city of Raipur would be eminently laughable for guys that age in today’s world, possibly. But there we were, on a mission to understand rural India, Apoorva fired with excitement and me, with boredom. To cut out the boredom and the monotony of the food, I would suggest a bicycle ride to Tilda, 10 kms away, which atleast had a tiny railway station and a handful of run down shops selling a range of stuff, which gave a semblance of some activity. I could have my favourite jalebi and samosa. Motivating Apoorva was a big task. Conscientious that he was, he was more keen to complete the checklist of activities we were supposed to perform while staying in a village, that meant interviewing people, analyzing the functioning of the milk co-operative, none of which were my pressing needs as Apoorva would do it for sure, and anyway, it was meant to be a joint submission on our return to our institute, IRMA.

I would instead offer to hire a bicycle at the princely rate of a rupee an hour and then ride with him on the pillion – not an easy task on the type of road that we had to traverse, but all the same, a worthwhile effort to cut out the boredom. I would head straight for the stall that sold hot samosas and jilebi, much to Apoorva’s disgust, though he would have a generous helping himself ! Apoorva’s attraction in turn was to grab the piece of newspaper in which the samosas and jilebis were wrapped, straighten it out and read whatever was possible through the sticky liquid and the oil with which the paper was coated, so what even if the newspaper was a year old ! So much did he miss reading material of any worth.

On a couple of occasions, we extended the ride past Tilda to meet Ashu, who quite seemed to enjoy his solitude in Bhiladi. Pradeep, the guy who was to pair with Ashu did drop in a couple of times to remind him that he was part of the team and that he must be credited with any submission Ashu would prepare (for grades mattered !), which Ashu readily agreed to. It was a much better proposition that to have Pradeep hang around.

Once, the three of us decided to visit Kesda, which was farther. That was where Sudhir and Shankar were stationed. They seemed to have settled in very well indeed, much to our envy. They had a decent enough hut with a proper room and seemed to have better company. They had a much bigger pond which also seemed much cleaner. After the pond in Tarashiv, bathing in the Kesda pond was certainly very welcome !

These occasional meetings was a great time to share what we had seen, learnt and experienced. This was also the time when we shared the letters and the contents of these that had been sent by common friends going through similar experiences in other parts of the country. Some of the letters gave us a complex. They talked about how they had participated in laying a road to the village and hence had become popular in the village. Some letters made us envious, like the one from a couple of dear friends who had set their eyes on a village belle and had all intentions of cosying up to her, which, they felt, they were nearing and asked us to wait with ‘bated breath’ for the next update !