Bastar - My journey in Dandakaranya

I was feeling a lot of things but nervousness was not one of them. I had one point of contact with my friends at Unexplored Bastar and have known about the work they are doing at grassroot level. Beyond that, I only had a rough route map. For once, I didn’t want to research (which usually comes with the job) and just wanted to “wing it” for an unknown number of days. No bookings either, it was a solo trip after a long, long time. At this point in my life, knowing too much had not served me well.

I went in with no expectations – Bastar is so mysterious to the outside world that apart from “nature” and “tribal” and “remote”, there weren’t many buzzwords in my head. Was “Naxal” a buzzword? I would be lying if I said it wasn’t, but I was not apprehensive; just curious. I knew at least this much – I was going to hear stories of, but I was not in the middle of, the crossfire. Community-driven tourism brings prosperity to the community, and I was going in without a political agenda or any illusions of understanding the ground realities – much like how I would visit Kashmir. The futility of that one buzzword couldn’t have been more pronounced. Even if I wanted to view Bastar with that lens, it didn’t let me.

Luck was on my side because I landed in Jagdalpur the day after Dussehra, on the day of Bahar Raini, a very important celebration. I had never heard of Bahar Raini or the fact that Bastar Dussehra is the longest festival in the world. 

The landing itself was interesting. You do not see anything but a large forest cover as the aircraft descends. I was trying hard to remember if I had ever landed in a town with such a green cover around its airport. 

I was whisked from the airport to Kumdakot (the fair grounds) and from 5 PM till 11 PM, I was trying to reconcile the two worlds playing out before me. The setting was the Jagdalpur town, a small town like any other with markets, traffic, restaurants, housing colonies – much like the one I grew up in. The people, though, were of all kinds. The town folks in urban attire, the village folks in their traditional ones. Aangas, seemingly under the influence of their guiding spirit, were running around in an altered state of consciousness, carrying their deity. The tribals were pulling a massive rath returning the devi to the temple. There was music and dance with impossibly detailed headgears. The worlds were not colliding, they were simply meeting as was decided. The rituals and folklore are as much a part of Bastar as the beats of daily life. 

The real Bastar, much like the real India, is in the villages. Jagdalpur serves as the district headquarters but you need to drive an hour out and you are around forests interspersed with streams and waterfalls. Although Mr. Mishr said it for Satpura, these lines kept reverberating in my head :

“उतर कर बहते अनेकों, कल-कथा कहते अनेकों, नदी, निर्झर और नाले, इन वनों ने गोद पाले,”.

Dandakaranya, as these forests are called, are as mysterious now as their mention in the mythology. I will have to visit Bastar every year for a decade to be able to explore all the caves and visit all the waterfalls, and even that may not be enough. Crawling on all fours, geared with helmets and safety equipment, the best and most challenging part for me was to turn off my flashlight in Mandarkonta Caves, and just listen to my breathing in pitch dark, where I couldn’t see my own hands. How much do we fear darkness, even when we know we are safe!

As I was frolicking in the stream near Tamdaghumar, I wondered if I could take a dip wearing shorts and a vest. My misguided sense of modernity had me convinced that the locals will find it offensive or uncomfortable. As I was looking for a place to discreetly get out of my jeans, I saw a group of women bathing with a cloth tied up as a sarong around each one of them, and nothing else. This is their way of life, something we had to unlearn after being told to be “proper”, all our lives. If I ever develop the confidence of wearing a bikini, I would want these ladies to be my swimming partners.

Bastar broke many notions for me – of modesty and shame, of public participation of women in rural spaces, of what it means to have fun and live with an abundant mindset, and of faith in nature and its place in our lives, or rather, our place in nature.

The most frequent question I was asked once I got back was, if I felt uncomfortable or uneasy. Absolutely not. In fact I felt more liberated in the rural Bastar, than I felt in the cities. The haat bazaars (weekly markets) were eye openers. The food and beverage section was as big, if not bigger, than the actual shopping area. These are your OG food courts. The most sought after items, you ask? Locally brewed mahua, landga, chhind ras and so many others that would put a stocked pub to shame. The kicker (pun intended) was that these were made and served solely by women, and were heavily consumed by everyone. Served in bowls made of leaves, this was the most eco-friendly, judgment free, day drinking experience I have had in my life. With the best chakna too – pakoras and red-ant chutney!

The day at bazaar is followed by betting on wrestling – of roosters! While I couldn’t witness it, I was told that the bets go well into tens of thousands.

 “Where do they get the money? Would they not save for a better future? How can they afford to spend such huge amounts on such frivolities?”, I rattled off some more sensible questions like these, very worried about the financial acumen of “these poor tribals”. Manish, my ever patient guide, just smiled. That smile needed no explanation, and it has stayed with me. It is the same smile my mom gives me when she doesn’t want to tell me, “I know you think you know a lot, but dear child, you really do not”.