Tribal concepts of assets and “forest dwellers”

Though I can’t really hand pick the “best” moment from my trip, there are parts which stand out. And meeting Stan Thakaekara was surely one of them. (More about him Here).

Read more about GRASSROUTES: The Road Trip for Social Change 

We went to his office and just sat there while he went on and on, hopping from one issue to another. I didn’t blink once.

When you look at Tribals, the first things that come to your mind are that they are uncivilised, they live on trees, eat leaves, go around strutting, illiterate and so on.

-Stan Thakaekara

He further said that all these were highly negative ways of describing the community, leave alone stereotypical. Tribals are social groups with territorial affiliation yes, but their idea of property is very different from the conventional idea. To tribals, the concept of land ownership doesn’t exist, (s)he thinks of himself as an integral part of the ecosystem while using its resources in a minimalist way.

So how is this relevant?

Look back through history. So like we discussed there was no concept of land as an asset for the tribals. So what happens when people start treating it as an asset? The issue of inheritence comes up. This is the real problem. The inherited land is passed on mainly to the male member of the family and this is one of the fundamental causes of gender inequality. It’s only the man who is in possession of the assets where as the woman becomes a child bearing device.

When I had gone to Chembakuli I had seen that the men and women were both equally vociferous in their opinions. I suppose it all makes sense now.

Now for the interesting and tragic part. The tribals never sought to acquire the land or try to get documents to back up their claim on this land because they never felt the need to. As far as they could remember they’d always been here and the forest had always been nice to them, taking care of all their basic needs.

Coming back to the present:

When the government goes ahead and passes the laws such as the Forest Rights Act etc, they don’t expect the Scheduled Tribes of that particular area to show the documents but instead use wells, small check dams etc as a proof of their existence. That part is alright.

But when the migrants came to this region, they started claiming the land as their property (and the tribals were obviously not aware of this).

Now of these migrants, “forest dwellers” are defined as those who had claimed the land as long as 75 years ago, and they are on the safe side. The tricky part is relating to those migrants who claim to have owned the land for less han 75 years. They are the ones with vested interests and who want the policies to favour them. Obviously, opinions differ on this.

Some people feel that 75 years is too long a time. Imagine a person who has owned the land for only 73 years

Syndicated from the Grassroutes Blog.

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On the Road Again

It's been a nice month on the quizzing front for me. Some good money and some good mental floss. First off was the quiz at UIET, Chandigarh. We had earlier planned to go to Gnosiomania but seeing that UIET offered 10k as their prize money we decided to change our destination at the last moment and dashed our way to Chandigarh. Here's a post by the Thapar Guys on their Quiz Blog about the event. :)

Kutub Quizzers hosted that quiz, t'was good wonly. A lot of stuff was quite workoutable and we won rather comfortably though Saurya's team came second by a narrow margin, who were given stiff competition by a team from Thapar. 

So with a lot of cash in our kitty and some excellent food at my relatives place, we came back to Pilani with smiles.

Last week, there was the NSIT quiz fest(check out their quiz blog here). The online quiz had been giving us quite a scare (personally the only question I could answer effortlessly was Chamillionaire, I know my Hip Hop well).

The prelims to the college MELA quiz were pretty decent with a few "weird" ones, but it was us who managed to mess it u. Turned out we just made it, thanks to the starred questions. Vivek and me had teamed up, and Saurya was with some other bloke. Both our teams made it, Saurya's team cracked the elims.

In the finals, we had a dog chase battle with the team sitting next to us (I don't quite know from which college they were) but ultimately we succeeded to narrowly cling on to our lead. Great success. 

We got hammered in the finals coz we missed some sitters. The highlight was the Absolut Connect which no one got. Except me. But even that wasn't good enough to land us the 2nd place which we missed by a couple of questions. It was quite disappointing. But oh well, shit happens. This semester is going to be about conquering Delhi and Jaipur and Chandigarh and what not. Here's a post about the NSIT Quiz in which Ankur raises a valid point, shall address that in the coming posts for sure. And yes, Avinash Mudaliar does look like Baba Ramdev

Hopefully my fellow BITSian comrades will follow my lead. It's a pity that we're so bloody far from any city.

P.S: I fell while snoozing in the bus and now have a dirrrty black mark on my leg. Yes, you did not have to know that. 

But now you do.

Summertime

Summer is going to be very interesting. Compared to the lethargy that ruled last year's summer, this summer will hopefully be action packed.

First off, if the guys at the passport office don't mistake me for a criminal, I shall be packing my bags off to Cairo for 4 days. It'll be awesomeness beyond awesomeness.

Also, trips to Goa and Bangalore are being planned as I write this entry.

And the Practice School system, viz is compulsory internship for BITSians after they complete their second year, their results are out. I am so happy that I got it in Hyderabad. And what more? Chances are they give stipend as well. Probably one of the very few who do. The station is Ratna Infrastructure.

Some other plans also under wraps for this summer. Plan to get more involved and active this time around.

Here's to an eventful summer.

Let there be Rock- UNO

This entry has been due for a really long time and procrastination has been sweet

“Aerosmith are coming to India!”

“Really?”

“Hmm...That’s great. So it’s probably going to be Bangalore”

“Where else?”

“I’m so going to that concert. Yeah! Woo! It’s going to be one kickass concert. I'll be rocking and screaming all night! It’ll probably (main act) start at midnight and go on all night. I will go wild. Wild! I tell ya!”

I comforted myself with the thought of witnessing a rock act in real life atlast. I wouldn't remain a lowly concert virgin anymore. Something to look forward to in the holidays. Now, when someone would ask me the most cliched question that one could be asked during vacations:

Hey Sup/wassup/wazza/whats up? amongst others

And they'd tell me how they have been reading, sleeping, watching TV, going on and on about how they're getting to eat good food as though they'd just been enduring a Somalian summer, I'd have something in my arsenal to top it all.

I WENT FOR THE FUCKING CONCERT, YEAAAAAH!
I reached Bangalore on the 25th, whose dwellers still haven't lifted their head from shame ever since its name was changed to a much less extravagant Bengalooru. The past week had been hectic. Road trips had taken its toll on me. First Vellore, then Mysore, then Ooty and then Coimbatore. Our driver, knowing fairly well that we’d had no idea about the roadways of the glorious state of Tamil Nadu kept on asking us which route to take at each detour (obviously suggesting his preference as well). I guess it was his way of showing that we were inferior, far inferior as far as the topography went. Now that was obviously true, yet parents being the species they are just have to be extremely opinionated on everything. I guess they were trying to instill the habit of self imposed authority in me despite knowing very well that the man behind the wheel was quite the master of puppets here. I still can’t forget the amount of dust that was generated as our mean escape machine (non AC that too) hurtled down the highway, which in fact seemed like a never ending construction site, just that there didn’t seem to be much construction going on. I could feel a second layer of dust accumulate evenly on my face.

Finally I reached Bangalore, with a paralyzed buttock, a battered back and apparently the entire South India covering my face. The concert was a sort of salvation for which I had endured hell (which took a detour from Salem).

Siddharth, Sonam and Me reached the venue. Palace Grounds, Bangalore. The rock haven. We had decided to go about an hour late so that we wouldn’t have to witness the opening act by Galeej Gurus. What greeted me instead was the longest standing queue I had ever laid my eyes on, and quite a dynamic queue it was, with people coming in and joining. It was quite easy to get carried away and label every woman standing there as a whore.

Siddharth led us past the wall of human flesh, and we followed like prisoners of war towards the entry zone. After being frisked on numerous occasions (by now being totally convinced that this was a method of segregating the straight from the gay) by men of all sorts I finally reached the grounds.

I will never forget that sight. If there was ever a near perfect representation of the Poisson distribution that Mr. BKM so vividly tried to explain to us in Prob Stat class, this was it. Each spectator fused into the one standing around him/her to form what was the most massive silhouette I had ever witnessed.

The stage was concert-esque. It might sound blatantly hypocritical considering that this was my first actual concert, for I would not consider head banging to Daler Mehndi as a little lad while everyone around me were yelping “Oye!” and “Purr!” as one. The lights went off.

The shrills were earsplitting. From the corner of my eyes I could already see a bra strap fall off a shoulder (much to the ignorance of the Madame I suppose). The night had just begun.

Aerosmith was in the house

To be continued…

I have just finshed a mini trip down south.

Actually it wasnt that mini. I made the following observations

Road trips can be a bitch when they span for over a week and your legs start behaving in a funny manner.

Ooty is one dirty town, it should be nicknamed the 'Cradle of Filth', and the place has got a mind of its own. The clouds are supposed to come into our rooms early morning, instead they choose to chill out a few hundred feet above and decide to piss over us, just for the fun of it.

There seems to be a Hutch monopoly in Ooty, trying to find an airtel top-up is about as difficult as finding a Bose product within your budget.

The more greek words in the name of a hotel, the worse it is.

Just because you're late and its been hot all along, you cannot go to a hill station with no warm clothes and say to yourself that 'Aah, its gonna be cool'. You know why? Coz its not gonna be cool, its gonna be COLD. And theres a difference.

Its quite amusing to see foreign tourists stare at a sign board that says : Indians 5 rupees, Others 500 rupees(We accept only cash!).

The trip started from Hyderabad via Vellore and then to Blore. From there we headed towards Mysore and finally to Ooty. We came back from Coonoor via Coimbatore, Salem, Hosur and finally back to Blore City which greeted us with arms wide open, awful downpour and a traffic jam that I'd never forget.