Adivasi Women
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Sathal Woman by Jamini Roy |
NK SINGH
In
the beginning, said a Persian poet – Allah took a rose, a lily, a dove, a
serpent, a little honey, a Dead Sea apple and a handful of clay. When he looked
at the amalgam – it was a woman. Being aboriginals, the Adivasi women of Chota Nagpur have not lost these qualities yet.
A
typical Adivasi girl is best described in the words of Rabindranath Tagore:
The
Santhal girl comes and goes
Along
the pebbled path under the silk cotton trees.
A
coarse saree wrapped tight around her slim dark form.
Some
forgetful maker at the dawn of time
In
the midst of making a black bird
From
rain darkened cloud and lightning
Suddenly
found the clay
That
this woman was fashioned from.
Her
two wings he hid
Away
from the world within her soul
On
quick feet she seems to fly as she walks .
On
her perfect arms she wears a few white
Lacquered
bangles,
Atop
her head a basket filled with mud,
She
comes and goes again and again.
The
end of her saree
Skimmed
by red
Paints
the sky with the delicate touch of palash
The
month of Poush draws to a close,
The
north wind seems to whisper a message from the south.
Upon
the branches of the Himjhuri
Young
green leaves glimmering with life
In
winter’s golden sunshine.
A
kite flies far away in the pale blue sky.
The
amla vine sheds its cloak of fruit,
Around
it children gathering in hope.
The
winding forest paths skeined in light and shade,
Where
dry leaves eddy in sudden swirls
On
the whim of the startled wind.
While
in the bushes stealthily
A
lizard in silence waits under cover of grass.
The
Santhal woman comes and goes again and again.
My
mud brick home
Is
slowly taking shape, workers fill the place
A
little at a time they raise the walls
Their
backs bared to the sun
Every
now and then
The
trains can be heard whistling afar;
The
hours pass, the day draws to an end,
A
bell rings where sky meets land
I
sit and watch,
Hesitant
my thoughts as I muse – this young girl
Who
has for her own sake
Blossomed
forth in body and soul
That
easy feminine strength best expressed in the giving of herself
Tempered
with the sweet serenity of compassion,
I
have employed her, paying her for work –
Stealing
the very strength that suffers insult at being priced
Using
money to break her down
There
she comes again, the Santhal girl, her basket filled with clay.
(This
rendering of the poem from animikha.wordpress.com)
Excerpts
from Adivasi Women, published in Indian Nation 5 July 1970
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Indian Nation 5 May 1970 |
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