A village stands up

a jungle satyagraha. The manager of the mill tried to settle the matter through money but all of us villagers stood united against them. Finally they relented and we won.”

Tofa was in the city for a talk and slide show along with his associate Mohan Hirabhai Hiralal as part of environmental organisation, Kalpavriksh’s 20th anniversary celebrations. This resistance put up by the Gond tribals is just one instance in the united efforts of an entire community to better its lot. Justifiably proud of their achievements Tofa told the assembled audience, “Today our village has a van suraksha samiti to protect the forest, assured employment, a bio-gas for each family, a mahila mandal which has helped to reduce liquor consumption, a village fund created by villagers who contribute 10 per cent of the income from activities like honey collection, collecting tendu leaves and farming for development activities.”

If true democratic spirit rests on the premise of having a say in governance, the Mendha tribals have already evolved such a system through study circles and the gram sabha consisting of a man and a woman from every family. Says Hiralal, “The villagers have have traditionally believed that no major decision is ever taken without in-depth discussion, carried out by voluntary abhyas mandal or study circles. Decisions are taken in the gram sabha through a consensus. Even government officials and all other outsiders have to approach the village through the gram sabha.”

Be it getting bio-gas for every family, making women equal representatives and even the effects of television – the consensus process prevails. It hasn’t been easy. “Mendha also has its share of good and bad. People haven’t always agreed to our plans, but through discussion they have been made to see the pros and cons like in the case of banning liquor shops in the village,” says Tofa.

While the tribals depend on subsistence farming for their livelihood, the forest that covers 80 per cent of the 1900 hectares area and its resources have traditionally been vital for their survival. Says Neema Pathak, member, Kalpavriksh, who has been involved in studying the village and its inhabitants, “These forests could not be assigned the strictest category of reserved forest under the Forest Act of 1927. They were classified as nistar forests, an administrative category under which state-owned forests were assigned to villagers for bio-mass requirements. After the state government’s take over, these forests came to be seen more as a source of revenue for the government and were leased out for charcoal-making, stone-quarrying and bamboo extraction. In 1991, 1600 hectares of forest were converted into reserved forests without the knowledge of the village.”

The villagers who use the wood from the forest, not for commercial purposes but for their day-to-day activities, raised their voice against this move. “We held protests and finally even the collector of the region had to open the records and find out that we were well within our rights,” says Tofa. To protect the forest the villagers have set up the van suraksha samiti. “The samiti decides on how much wood to be used, which branches to be cut.

Villagers take turns in patrolling the forest and those felling trees without the gram sabha’s permission are fined,” says Tofa. The villagersand some NGOs have hit upon a method of extracting honey from bees in a non-violent manner. “Instead of smoking out the bees which kills them, the villagers venture into the beehive on a new-moon’s night when bees are relatively quiet and cut out only the middle section of the hive,” says Tofa. “Other villages around us have already started to follow our methods,” says Tofa.A microcosmic model of a democratic society, Mendha with its so called backward adivasis has much to give the rest of the country.

Below the banyan
That one can share an emotional bond with our environment is well-known. Reader Sandhya Pandit talks about the special bond that she shared with a banyan tree:
“Everyday while going to office I would wait at this particular corner under that huge banyan tree for my bus to pick me up. I was so used to that particular spot as if for those five minutes the tree would accept me as a daughter, offering me a cool breeze and cooler shadow. In the summer, the morning sun would be shining bright and I was sure that the tree would take care of me, offering me shelter. In the rainy season, my umbrella aside, I stood under the tree, sure that the thick branches of the tree would protect me from the rains.

I witnessed the prosperity of the tree with little branches springing out, developing and then again going down to earth to other branches. The tree and I had developed a relation by now. But I got married and changed house. On that last day he sent away his daughter with blessings – literally showering some leaves on my head!

This remained in the corner of my mind. But still, whenever I went back, I would say `Hi’ to the tree with a smile and he would reciprocate by shaking its branches. Yesterday, I came back home with a bleeding heart – when I visited the familiar place to look in on my father, I received a shock – he was no more! There was a widened road, for the convenience for vehicles, leaving a corner of my mind empty forever!”