‘‘INDIA got independence 50 years back, but we are still waiting for our freedom.’’ With that line, Ladu Ram Wadera launches into his speech. Listening to him are a group of tribals. ‘‘As tribals we have always been exploited. We are never told what we are entitled to, and the law is against us,’’ Wadera says, urging residents of Netrawala village to stand up for their rights. Wadera is the loudest voice of a silent revolution taking place in the Aravallis. In Kotada district, hundreds of tribals are on an awareness march. The aim is to claim what is ‘‘rightfully theirs.’’ One of them is 95-year-old Nar Singh. ‘‘All my life, I have wanted to know why we were not given our dues. I never found any answers.’’ So now they are all collectively looking for some. Wadera explains: ‘‘This area is not like the very arid parts of the state. There is no reason for such a severe drought here. But we are suffering it.We are not even getting work under the drought relief work-for- pay scheme.’’ While the administration reels out facts and figures about all that has been done for the district, the tribals tell a story of neglect, corruption and an attempt to ‘‘keep us dumb’’. Two days after the awareness rally set out, they were abruptly halted in their tracks. ‘‘We were stoned and beaten up. It was started by local upper caste people and then the police pitched in. Now we have to contend with cases filed against us also,’’ says Singh. After three days off the roads, the Bhils of Kotada resumed their ‘Gaurav Yatra’ earlier this week. At their first meeting on Tuesday, the villagers discussed strategy and motivation. After a few rousing speeches, they moved on and within a few hours were back on track. For the approximately two lakh tribals of Kotada, considered one of the most backward areas in the region, knowledge has suddenly become imperative. ‘‘It is simple,’’ says Haldi Bai. ‘‘A lot of things that are meant for us never reach us. Till a few months back, we had three primary health centres with no doctors, schools with no teachers and we rarely saw district officials. It was as though we didn’t exist.’’ But things changed when President A P J Abdul Kalam visited the area. ‘‘The administration went into overdrive. Our schools got teachers, doctors were appointed, roads were improved. But if Kalam had driven down a bit further, he would have come across us and seen our lives,’’ Wadera says. According to a recent report by NGO Aastha, lack of jobs, food and water has forced 5,000 people from 60-odd villages in Kotada to leave their homes. But two hours away in Udaipur city, recently appointed Tribal Commissioner Sudarshan Sethi says that things are not as bad as they seem. ‘‘We are working on a number of things. Our main focus is on education, health facilities and ensuring that drought relief work is implemented.’’ On paper, it is perfect. Enough work, enough foodgrain, enough everything. But despite that, Hatim Bai sleeps on an empty stomach most nights. In Chittod district’s Savda village, Hagambi Bai went without food for almost a week. In the Assembly, ministers declare that there is no reason for alarm on the drought front. But for Hagami Bai, 11-year-old Ganeshi, aging Mange Lal, hunger has already come home.
