7—
Changes in Beliefs and Rituals

History demonstrates that significant changes in a people's social and economic climate usually bring about new developments in ideology and in religious practices. The exact nature of the correlation between economic, political, and religious transformations is nevertheless still a subject of controversy, and observations among the tribal populations of Andhra Pradesh have certainly not revealed any uniform reaction to the impact of increased contact with non-tribal populations and the resultant erosion of tribal economic and social autonomy. It would seem, however, that complex religious and mythological systems, such as that of the Gonds, are more liable to change than the simple beliefs and religious practices of more primitive tribal communities.

One of the reasons for this phenomenon may be that a tribe such as the Chenchus even now interacts with other populations only superficially, so that there are few occasions for an assimilation of religious ideas. Nor do the Chenchus have traditional customs, such as cow sacrifice, which are objectionable to Hindus and thus come under attack. Their principal ritual practices—for instance, the first fruit offerings given to Garelamaisama, the deity of the forest and the chase—are so inconspicuous that non-tribal settlers in Chenchu territory are unlikely to have any occasion to comment on their merits. With the exception of those Chenchus who live in close proximity to the Shiva temple of Sri Sailam, Chenchus are also unlikely to be drawn into participation in the ritual activities of other ethnic groups.

Ironically, the recent rebuilding of the temple of Sri Sailam and its re-establishment as an important centre of pilgrimage have damaged

the Chenchus' interests. As long as Sri Sailam was difficult of access, largely derelict, and served only by a few Brahmin priests, the community of Chenchus living in the vicinity had hereditary rights to a share of the offerings given by pilgrims. They served in the temple as palanquin bearers and as sweepers, and also acted as watchmen of the temple treasures. In 1978 one of the Chenchus at Sri Sailam told me: "Our grandfathers had all the keys of the temple store where the gold and silver ornaments were kept, but now the priests treat us as thieves if we go anywhere near the store-room. Yet it is we who have worked in the temple from the time of the birth of the god."

In the old days all the Chenchus of the small settlement of Sri Sailam were feasted at the four main temple festivals, i.e. Shivaratri, Sankranti, Ugadi, and Khumbam, but since 1977 this happens only at Sankranti. They also complain that previously each Chenchu man received annually at temple expense one turban and one loin-cloth, and every woman received a sari and a bodice. All such benefits were stopped when the temple finances were taken over by the government Endowment Department. On the other hand, a few Chenchus are now employed in the temple and paid cash wages. Those men who carry the palanquin with the idols of the deities also get a part of the rice thrown at the idols by the pilgrims, but part of it is now taken by the priests, whereas originally the entire amount belonged to the Chenchus.

This attachment of a primitive community of foodgatherers to a major Hindu shrine is an unusual phenomenon, and it is remarkable that despite a long symbiotic relationship the basic economy of the group of Chenchus has not significantly changed.

Among the Reddis of the Godavari region there was also a small community which came somewhat fortuitously into contact with a centre of Hindu worship. In The Reddis of the Bison Hills I described in detail the ashram of the Swami of Parantapalli and the effects of this hermit on the Reddis of the nearby village. On returning to Parantapalli in 1978, I found that even though the ashram continued to function on a reduced scale after the Swami's death, it had had no lasting impact on the ritual practices of the local Reddis.

In other villages, such as Gogulapudi, where I talked to men who had been children or had not yet been born at the time of my stay among the Reddis in 1941, I found that their views on religious matters differed only in some details from those of the previous generation. They were convinced that shamans (veju ) could see the hill deities (konda devata ), and they had no doubt about the reality of those gods and goddesses. One veju told me that there were 101 hill goddesses, 92 village goddesses, and 70–80 spirits who caused disease. Another veju told me that there were 150 female and 100 male deities,

and he described in detail how they were dressed. It is not unlikely that increased contact with outsiders has made Reddis familiar with higher numerals, and that this new knowledge is now being applied to their ideas about the supernatural world. It also seems that their ideas about the departed and their fate have become more explicit or that the veju have grown more articulate, perhaps because they are now used to talking to strangers. They told me that they could see the departed, who worked like men in this life, prepared hill fields (konda podu ), and reaped the crops. When a veju calls them they come and sit in a packed crowd in the narrow space before him. The hill deities also come and sit side by side with the dead. But only the deity or spirit who possesses the veju speaks and says what should be done to cure the sick person on whose behalf the veju has gone into trance. One veju told me that for each village on this earth there is a corresponding village in the land of the dead, an idea which I had found among the Wanchus of Arunachal Pradesh, but never among the Reddis. As any such notion is foreign to the local Hindus, it must be an original Reddi belief, which I failed to discover in 1941, but which may be widespread among different tribal societies. The Reddis' belief that dead men and women may be reborn again in the same family is more likely to be an adaptation of Hindu beliefs in reincarnation, and this idea, too, I did not encounter in 1941.

The ritual at agricultural ceremonies has remained unchanged. Pigs and fowls are the principal sacrificial animals and are obligatory victims in the worship of Bhu Devi, the earth deity. Goats are sacrificed only if they have been promised as a propitiatory offering to a spirit who has afflicted a person with illness.

Developments among Gonds

In contrast to Chenchus and Reddis, the Gonds of Adilabad have experienced so many external interventions in diverse spheres of their social and cultural life that it would be surprising if their religious ideas and practices had remained unaltered. The very basis of their social order rests on an elaborate mythology which explains and sanctions the manner in which the different sections of Gond society function and interact. Each of the four phratries (saga ) is linked with a deity or a pair of deities, whose cult unites its members and provides the various clans with regular occasions for cooperation in ritual activities. The clan deities (persa pen ) are thought to have acted as the protectors of the members of each clan throughout its long history, and the ability of the Gonds to hold their own in battles with various other ethnic groups justified their faith in the power and benevolence

of these deities. Hence the Gonds had no incentive to seek the protection of alien gods and to divide their loyalties between different cults.

Today, however, a new situation has arisen. The Gonds have become an underprivileged minority in their own ancestral homeland, now infiltrated and largely taken over by members of various advanced communities. Appeals to the old clan deities for succour in their misfortune have obviously been of little avail, and the Gonds have begun to look elsewhere for divine assistance. One young man of Marlavai told me in so many words that he had gone on pilgrimage to Tirupati, a centre of Vishnuite worship, because the Gond gods could offer no help in the present emergency.

The cult of the tribal deities stands outside the world-view with which Gonds become increasingly familiar through the teachings in schools and through contacts with officials and traders, and hence appears to the young Gonds as out of date and in need of reinterpretation. Various reform movements, to be discussed presently in greater detail, attract men and women in search of an ideology and ritual practices in accord with Hindu thought. This attraction coincides with a weakening of the old tribal tradition through the erosion of the role of the Pardhans, the hereditary bards of the Gonds, who in the old days passed on the knowledge of myths and legends from generation to generation. By their recitations at ritual occasions they instructed young Gonds in the sacred lore of their clans, and they also kept a watchful eye on the proper performance of the clan rites. Today many Gonds do not have the means to support a class of bards and entertainers, and Pardhans, who can no longer rely on the gifts and lavish hospitality of their patrons, have taken up agriculture or moved on to other occupations, including teaching and government service.

Although the art of the Pardhans is not yet dead, and there are still middle-aged and old men who retain a good knowledge of the myths and can recite them in the traditional manner, their numbers are dwindling, and not all of them pass on their skills to their sons. The time may be near when young Gonds will have little chance to learn about their tribal gods and the mythological events which provide the ultimate charter for social customs and ritual performances. Such attempts as are being made to record parts of Gond tradition in writing have been connected with reform movements which aim at constructing links between Gond and Hindu mythology. The efforts to record and publish some oral literature in the original Gondi made in connection with the Gond Education Scheme of the 1940s have not been continued. Although modern technology would make it easy to record the Pardhans' recitations on tape, so far no one has taken any steps in that direction, and the sacred oral literature of the Gonds may well disappear without leaving much trace.

Apart from the dilution of the body of religious knowledge, there have been changes in the performance of the rites to honour the clan deities. The most important of these changes is the abandonment of the sacrifice of bulls and cows under the pressure of Hindu public opinion. The slaughter of cattle and the consumption of their flesh by the worshippers was always an essential feature, not only of the clangod feasts, but also of memorial rites to honour departed kinsmen. As long as the Gonds lived under Muslim rulers, such as the Nizam of Hyderabad, there was no official interference with cow slaughter, and local Hindus were not bold enough to agitate openly against the slaughter of animals universally eaten by the ruling class of the state. A change in this situation came about with the incorporation of Hyderabad within the Republic of India and the replacement of the old regime by an administration dominated by Hindus. It was not until 1978 that cow slaughter was formally forbidden by the Andhra Pradesh government, but long before that local opposition to the sacrifice of cows grew, and the Gonds were made to realize that to continue the practice would be detrimental to their social status, for as eaters of beef they would ultimately be equated with untouchables. Gond politicians who mixed with high-caste Congress men were the first to become aware of the strength of the Hindu prejudice against cow slaughter, and they prevailed upon their fellow tribesmen to renounce a custom which marred the Gonds' image in the eyes of the new ruling class. Thus the sacrificing of cows was given up—not suddenly, of course, but gradually as the conservative older men died or lost influence and a new generation conscious of the need to compromise with ideas held by the society at large took their place on the councils of villages and clans. The most crucial question was how the cult of the clan deities could be properly conducted without the sacrifice of cows. The clan myths explicitly describe, after all, how at the inauguration of the cult of the clan deities by the culture-hero Pahandi Kupar Lingal and Hiraman Guru a cow had to be brought, sacrificed, and given to the clan gods, and that the Gonds' ancestors promised the gods to repeat such sacrifices as part of their cult.^[1] Similarly, legendary accounts of the history of individual Gond clans contain frequent references to cow sacrifices.^[2] Thus the omission of such sacrifices was as serious a break with tradition as the replacement of communion wine by orange juice would be for Christian churches.

Cows also used to be sacrificed at funerals and memorial rites, and their flesh was an essential part of the meals prepared for the many mourners who had to be fed on such occasions. The substitution of

[1] For the relevant text, see The Gonds of Andhra Pradesh , p. 231.

[2] The Gonds of Andhra Pradesh , pp. 250, 270.

goats as sacrificial animals creates great difficulties for the hosts, for the meat of one goat does not go far, and few Gonds are now rich enough to provide several goats for such an occasion.

The abandonment of cow slaughter has to be rationalized, and an extract from a recent speech by a prominent Gond politician, Atram Lingu of Sirpur, ex-president of the Panchayat Samithi (see chapter 6), illustrates how this is being done:

The original Gonds and Pardhans were cutting cows and this is why they were called Koitur , which means "cutter." Because the cow is an important animal we should not slaughter it, for this is a sin. The four Vedas of India do not mention such sacrifices, and because of the sinful practice of cow slaughter we Gonds are backward and we do not cooperate with each other. Therefore you must promise that you will not eat beef, neither of cow nor of bullock. You may have heard, and the old men among you have seen it, that in previous years up to twenty cows were slaughtered at the time of the Keslapur jatra . Now this slaughter has been stopped, because it is sinful.

This speech, made by a man who in his youth must have participated in many cow sacrifices, demonstrates very clearly the complete reversal of ideas in regard to ritual practices. What was once considered a duty, prescribed by sacred texts, is now described as sin because Gonds in close touch with non-tribals have adopted Hindu notions at the expense of their traditional beliefs. In the forefront of the propaganda against cow sacrifice were such reform movements as that of Suruji Maharaj, to be described presently. In the area affected by this movement, not only the sacrifice of cows but also an important part of the traditional funeral ritual has been abandoned. This part, known as jagurla and described at length in The Gonds of Andhra Pradesh (pp. 375–80), involved the cremation of the corpse and a ritual dance around the burning pyre to the accompaniment of drums and wind instruments. While the flames consumed the corpse a cow was sacrificed, its head was placed close to the pyre, and part of the flesh was cooked as niwot ("sacrificial food") and then offered to the sanal ("soul") of the departed with the words: "See, this is given to you, to you the cow is given; may it reach you." Subsequently all the mourners consumed the cow's flesh.

Without cow sacrifice the jagurla rite loses much of its significance, and while in some villages a goat is substituted, others omit the jagurla altogether. Thus the Gonds of Kanchanpalli, Chudur Gumnur, Netnur, Jamuldhara, Dhanora, and Chiklaguda no longer perform this rite, nor is it done by the new settlers in Mahagaon, who came from Kinwat and are devotees of Suruji Maharaj. The original inhabitants of Mahagaon still perform it, though without cow sacrifice, possibly to demonstrate their opposition to Suruji Maharaj and the new settlers,

whom they regard as innovators lacking in dedication to the cult of the Gond gods.

The reform movement of Suruji Maharaj is one of several attempts to steer Gond religion in the direction of Hinduism without effecting, however, a total break with all traditional beliefs and practices. In the 1940s a similar movement was active in some parts of Kinwat Taluk, but this was confined almost entirely to Pardhans. It seems that it originated in the then British-administered territory of Berar, and that a Pardhan guru from that region spread the message in Kinwat. Some of his followers were settled in the village of Patoda, the home of a Pardhan sadhu by the name of Wika Deoba. By 1943, when I visited the locality, many Pardhans had become his followers, and some of them had given up their work as bards and musicians. They no longer played at Gond rites, and professed to worship only one god, whom they knew under the name of Bhagavan. Wika Deoba had been several times to Keslapur and had tried to persuade the Gonds to desist from cow slaughter, but at that time without much success. He taught his followers to sing bhajan (Hindu devotional songs) and to worship the tulsi plant.

Suruji Maharaj, whose Gond name is Kotnaka Suru, also came from Kinwat. His guru was Geram Joti Ram, a Gond of Bahmanguda, who in turn was a disciple of a certain Narsimlu, who was not a Gond but presumably a member of a Hindu caste. When the Nizam's government allocated land in Utnur Taluk to Gonds, Kotnaka Suru, along with many other settlers from Kinwat, was granted patta on vacant land in Mahagaon. He and thirty-two other Gond families settled there, and formed a hamlet of their own at a little distance from the old village of Mahagaon. The newcomers, who had previously been landless, came from different villages in the taluks of Kinwat and Adilabad, and their only unifying link was their common allegiance to Suruji Maharaj. Thanks to his influence with some government officials, he obtained for the new settlement funds for the construction of so-called "colony" houses, i.e. houses with tiled roofs and mud walls rather more solid than those of ordinary Gond houses. Yet in the material sphere his efforts did not go any further. The agricultural methods of the Gonds of the new hamlet of Mahagaon are not more advanced than those of other Gonds of the area.

Mahagaon has attained a certain fame because of a shrine built on the initiative of Suruji Maharaj in the style of a Hindu temple on top of a hill close to the village. It contains a Shiva lingam , and at Shivaratri a jatra is held there, attended by Gonds from Adilabad, Kinwat, and even Yeotmal in Maharashtra. Significantly, few people from nearby villages attend, and in 1979 the only prominent Gond from the vicinity to come to the puja was Raja Bhagwant Rao of Kanchanpalli.

However, Suruji Maharaj has a considerable following in Asifabad Taluk, and, as Michael Yorke explains in chapter 9, his devotees are recruited mainly from among educated Gonds, particularly schoolteachers. He moves about a good deal, visiting villages where he has made converts, and this is facilitated by the fact that he owns a jeep bought with the help of the donations of devotees, who include some non-tribals. Suruji Maharaj usually attends the Keslapur jatra , and there he spends the evenings surrounded by bhajan -singing followers.

Despite the range of his influence over a large part of the district, he gives the impression of a kindly and modest man rather than of a powerful leader; hence, his ability to recruit followers is surprising. The limitations of his message can be gauged by the following taped extract from a speech he made at a meeting in Pithaguda mentioned in chapter 6:

I am only a simple man and have nothing much to say. I never went to school. I am a poor orator, but I came here to speak because I was urged to do so by Lingu [the ex-president of the Panchayat Samithi]. I came here to see Haimendorf Sahib and you people as suggested by Lingu. I have always been a poor man. I herded the cattle of others; I laboured for other people, for my parents were poor. By the grace of Haimendorf Sahib I came from Kinwat and was given land in Mahagaon. You must work hard and you will get good results; if you work hard you will be finding God (pen ). Without work you will go to waste, you will get into the habit of drinking. Hence, even if you kill me, I shall go on to ask you people not to drink.

This is certainly not the rousing speech of a charismatic leader, and the loyalty Suruji attracts may simply be due to the Gonds' longing for some anchor to enable them to hold their own in a new cultural climate, contrasting sharply with a religion centred in the dramatic rites of clan god feasts when the blood of cows and goats was spilled in honour of divinities who possessed priests and shamans and spoke through their mouths to the assembled devotees.

The sect led by Suruji Maharaj is not the only movement leaning towards Hindu ideas, nor is he the only guru who has emerged in recent years. Mesram Jevant Rao was, like Suruji Maharaj, a disciple of Joti Ram of Bhamanguda in Kinwat, but he gathered round him a different circle of followers. They are found in Chudur Burnur, Chudur Koinur, Dubbaguda, Polasar, and even in one hamlet of Mahagaon. They form an endogamous group and intermarry neither with the followers of Suruji Maharaj nor with traditionalist Gonds. A Pardhan guru living in Kandiguda has both Pardhan and Gond followers, and Torosam Marothi of Jatarla in Both Taluk, who was also a disciple of Joti Ram, has organized a similar group of devotees searching for new religious expression. All these gurus accept the invitations

of individual Gonds to come to their houses on full moon days and perform puja for Satya Narain.

Transformation of a Tribal Festival

The change in the whole tone of religious expression becomes most apparent in the way in which the Keslapur jatra , the most popular religious event in Adilabad District, is now being celebrated. When in 1941 I first attended that feast, at which Gonds from all parts of the district and even from neighbouring British India used to assemble, the performance of the rites to honour the clan deity of the Buigoita branch of the Mesram clan was central to the occasion. Numerous sacrificial animals, from fowls and goats to calves, cows, and bulls, were brought from all directions, and the earth near the shrine of the clan ancestors was soon soaked with their blood. The fair, where a few dozen shopkeepers exhibited their wares and Gond women bought the odd piece of cloth, a brass pot, or perhaps a ring, necklace, or belt made of silver, was incidental, and certainly less important than the appearance of the Atram raja of Utnur, who arrived, carried in a palanquin, to adjudicate in disputes which throughout the year had resisted peaceful resolution in panchayat s of lesser status.

The ritual focal point of the entire celebration was a simple sati shrine, erected on a mound close to a huge banyan tree, and made of no more permanent building materials than a few wooden posts and a low roof thatched with grass. Near this shrine animals were sacrificed throughout the night, and the blare of shawms and the roll of drums accompanied each climax of a sacrificial rite. Open fires and the moonlight filtering through the foliage were the only sources of light. At intervals the sound of the strings of a Pardhan's fiddle and his singing and reciting could be heard, but there was no other music than that required by the liturgy.

Today all this has changed. A whole town of tents and shops, tea stalls, and make-shift restaurants with crude wooden benches and tables grows up on the eve of the Keslapur jatra , a cinema is installed in a canvas hall, and loudspeakers blare out film music long before the show begins. There are exhibitions mounted by government departments displaying all the progressive techniques supposed to be available to the local tribal populations, and a huge pandal where, on one of the days of the jatra , district officers and local politicians address a crowd of tribesmen, often promising benefits which everybody knows are unrealistic and will never be delivered, not because the speakers are insincere but because vested interests oppose any substantial improvement in the tribesmen's conditions. As dusk falls the

whole chaotic accumulation of commercial enterprises and official window dressing is enveloped in a blaze of electric light, blotting out the flames of the few small fires lit by tribal families, who have come by old habit to worship their clan deities in some corner of the traditional sacred site. But the old shrine of wood and thatch has disappeared. It has been replaced by a modern temple building, constructed of stone and cement, and painted a brilliant white.

How did this happen, and who decided to construct a modern temple? The sanctuary at Keslapur, which Gond tradition equates with Bourmachua, the original home of the Seven Brother Folk,^[3] had always been under the control of the men of the Buigoita branch of the Mesram clan, and the clan priest (katora ) and the guardian (patla ) of that branch lived at Keslapur. In 1960 officials of the Endowment Department came to attend the jatra , which by that time had become widely known through the sponsorship of the district officials, and, realizing its potential as a centre of pilgrimage, they proposed that a permanent shrine be built and registered with their department. They promised funds for the construction and maintenance of the temple, and persuaded the local Gonds to consent to these plans. The clan priest, Mesram Nagu, as well as the Pardhan Mesram Soniya, objected to the plan, but the village headman and patla of the shrine, Mesram Chitru, pressed for the construction of the temple, and being a rich and influential man he overruled clan priest and Pardhan. Most of the money required for the construction was collected from Buigoita Mesram men and from men married to Buigoita women. There were also contributions from the Endowment Department and from the trustees of the wealthy Vishnu temple at Tirupati in southern Andhra Pradesh.

In 1962, the main building was completed, and as the Gond deity worshipped at Keslapur was Sri Shek, the serpent god who plays an important role in Gond mythology, the temple was dedicated to Nagoba, the cobra deity with whom Hindus, too, are familiar. Subsequently, both a brass sculpture representing an enormous cobra and several ritual objects were installed in the temple.

At first the new temple stood on its own, but in 1976 a stone wall enclosing the whole temple complex, together with a large courtyard, was built at a cost of Rs 17,000. A committee, which at first was under the chairmanship of Raja Atram Deo Shah of Utnur, applied to the Endowment Department for support, and this application was successful. This meant that official funds became available for the new temple, but also that the donations received at the time of the jatra had largely to be paid into the endowment fund, a development which the

[3] See The Gonds of Andhra Pradesh , pp. 270–80.

local Gonds had not fully foreseen. As Raja Deo Shah, who had won a seat in the Legislative Assembly, could not give sufficient time to the affairs of the temple, the committee subsequently elected as chairman Marskola Kasiram, an ex-member of the Legislative Assembly who had many contacts in Hindu circles and who seems to have approved a far-reaching Hinduization of the ritual.

At the time of the jatra , crowds of Gonds as well as non-tribals enter the temple and in Hindu style place offerings of rice, flowers, coconuts, and cash in front of the serpent idol. In 1977 the cash offerings amounted to Rs 1,911, and this sum went to the endowment fund. In addition, Rs 238 was given as offerings at the altar of the clan ancestors (sati ), and this sum was divided between the clan priest, the guardian (patla ), and the Pardhan. The Pardhan musicians who at times played and sang in the courtyard were given Rs 105 in small coins. Their singing was often almost inaudible, for the committee had sanctioned the installation of loudspeakers, and some young men thought to contribute to the festivities by playing tapes of cinema music considered suitable as background for religious ceremonies. Garlands of coloured electric lights used as decoration gave the temple an appearance totally at variance with traditional Gond ritual structures. Indeed, in the whole performance of the ritual there remained few truly Gond elements. The essential animal sacrifices, such as the offering of tum -goats necessary for the rite of joining the souls of departed kinsmen with the clan god, were not allowed to be performed inside the temple compound, but had to be executed rather furtively at the back of the temple, outside the surrounding wall. Until a few years ago, these sacrifices were performed in the courtyard in front of the temple, but in view of the present Hindu prejudice against blood sacrifices the ritual is considered inappropriate for the courtyard. A similar banishment of animal sacrifices from the inner temple courtyards has been reported from Kerala, but there they had not been as central to the temple ritual as the offering of animals to the clan deities is in Gond religion. The only part of the ritual performed at Keslapur in traditional style is now the introduction of the newly married brides of Mesram Gonds and Pardhans to the clan ancestors, described in detail in The Gonds of Andhra Pradesh (pp. 527–29).

The transformation of the Keslapur jatra from a tribal gathering devoted to the traditional worship of Gond deities to a great fair attended by thousands of non-tribals reflects the submergence of Gond culture in the ocean of Hindu practices. What is the Gonds' own reaction to this change, imposed on them by events which are largely outside their control? The older and more conservative Gonds, particularly those from villages in the central highlands, seem to be perturbed, for they no longer feel at home at a jatra which they remember as a func-

tion enacted by Gonds and exclusively for Gonds. Even the guardians of the sanctuary of Shri Shek, i.e. the Mesram men of Keslapur, who took the fateful step of allowing the construction of a temple in Hindu style and accepting funds from the Endowment Department, are uneasy about losing control over the style of worship and the use of donations received. A certain pride in the development of the Nagoba shrine as a regional and not a purely tribal religious centre is mixed with the fear that non-tribals may ultimately take over the organization of the cult, just as the organization of the secular part of the jatra has already slipped from Gond hands. Some of the younger Gonds, especially those educated in schools with non-tribal teachers, seem to applaud the establishment of a Gond shrine which in outward form can vie with Hindu temples and thereby gain respectability for Gond religion in the eyes of the wider Hindu society which is inevitably engulfing the Gonds of Adilabad, today already a minority in their own country. Similar sentiments have caused some Gonds to seek connections between their own mythology and Hindu scriptures and to interpret the former in the light of Hindu ideology, as the movement inspired by Suruji Maharaj is attempting to do.

In 1977, the committee of the Nagoba temple at Keslapur consisted of Marskola Kasiram (chairman); Raja Atram Deo Shah, member of the Legislative Assembly; Atram Lingu of Sirpur; Kinaka Bhir Shah of Pithebangara; Mesram Chandu, sarpanch of the Keslapur panchayat ; and Gadana, member of the Legislative Assembly, a man of Golkar caste from Mudol Taluk. The treasurer was an official of the Endowment Department. The Mesram men had clearly lost control, and this confirmed the fears of the clan priest, who knew that in other places the use of the same shrine by Gonds and Hindus had led to conflict.

One such conflict occurred in Bhadi, the old seat of a mokashi of Jungnaka clan. In Bhadi there is a sanctuary with a stone sculpture of a Nandi. Traditionally, Gonds acted as priests of the shrine, but then a sadhu came and acted for some years as pujari . When a Gond of the Jungnaka clan resumed the role of pujari , a local Brahmin objected, and there was a court case which went as far as the High Court. In the end the Jungnaka men won the case. They get contributions of grain from all the villagers, including non-tribals, but there are now no animal sacrifices.

Another conflict over the right of worship at a shrine occurred at Jheri village. There some Hindus of Reddi caste had settled, and together with the local Gonds and Pardhans built a temple and installed in it a Hanuman image which had been at the locality long before the Reddis had settled. But when in 1960 the Gonds and Pardhans wanted to worship in the temple at the Dassera festival, the Reddis tried to prevent them from entering it. A fight broke out, and one man was

killed. Since then the Reddis do not dare to obstruct the tribals' worship.

A different outcome of a joint enterprise in building a temple occurred in Chandhuri, near Hasnapur. There all the villagers, Hindus as well as Gonds and Pardhans, contributed to the construction of a temple. When it was completed, some Telugu Gollas did not allow Gonds and Pardhans to enter it. A Mesram man, who told me the story, said that he feared that the Nagoba temple at Keslapur might ultimately also be taken over completely by Hindus, and that the Gonds might be deprived of their role as priests and guardians of the sanctuary.

Not all constructions of shrines are due to cooperation between Gonds and non-tribals. In Sirpur the initiative for the rebuilding of an old temple came from the local Gonds, who undertook the repairs unaided by outsiders, at least insofar as financial support was concerned.

In Sirpur there was an old Shiva temple, stemming probably from the time when there was a Maratha fort nearby. The temple had fallen into disuse and was partly in ruins. But the stones were still lying on the site, and in 1969 the Gonds of Sirpur, on the initiative of Atram Bhimji, rebuilt the temple at a cost of Rs 5,000. As it was believed—probably erroneously—that the temple originally belonged to the Atram rajas, who were watandar of Sirpur, one of their descendants, who now lives in nearby Pamelawada, was designated pujari of the reconstituted temple.

On a stone platform in front of the temple, which must once have been covered by a roof resting on columns, there is a collection of stone Nandi and lingam in yoni of different sizes. They have probably been collected from various sites. The temple itself is built of large stone blocks, and its roof is in the form of a stepped pyramid. As one enters one finds oneself in a small entrance hall, and a low door leads from this into the inner shrine, in the centre of which there are two stone lingam . On the walls several stone sculptures have been arranged.

According to Atram Bhimji, the temple is in reality not a Mahadeo shrine but a sanctuary of Rajasur, the house god of the Sirpur rajas. This, however, is probably a chimera of the imagination, and the temple is quite rightly devoted to the cult of Mahadeo. About two weeks after the Keslapur jatra , a minor jatra is held near the newly rebuilt temple of Sirpur. The impulse to hold a jatra came from Atram Lingu, then sarpanch of Sirpur, no doubt with the idea of raising the prestige of the village and benefiting the local shopkeepers. It is a small affair compared with the Keslapur jatra , but nevertheless some 200–300 shopkeepers, who pay between Rs 300 and Rs 500 in tax, come and

open stalls, and the donations to the temple average Rs 150. The total turnover of all the shopkeepers at the jatra in 1977 was Rs 250,000.

On the eve of the jatra the clan priest of the Sirpurkar clan deities first worships the village goddesses, represented by three stone images under a tree, and then performs a simple puja in the interior sanctuary of the temple. The Shiva lingam are bathed, anointed, and decorated with leaves. The worshippers then enter the shrine, and each scatters rice grains on the lingam and on the sculptures on the walls.

Whereas in Keslapur a Gond sanctuary has virtually been transformed into a Hindu temple, in Sirpur we find a different type of amalgamation of tribal and Hindu cults. Here the Gonds have taken over an abandoned Hindu temple and instituted a ritual combining Gond and Hindu elements.

Changes in Personal Practices and Beliefs

Quite apart from adjustments of ritual affecting Gond society in general, such as the abandonment of cow sacrifice under the pressure of Hindu opinion, there are also more spontaneous innovations arising from personal decisions. Thus the katora of the clan deities of the Sirpurkar branch of the Atram clan took the symbols of the persa pen to Parsewara and performed the annual rites there, whereupon the clansmen left behind in the Sirpur area started a rival cult.^[4] In the 1970s the clan priest and a group of supporters in Parsewara joined one of the reform movements which had originated in Maharashtra, and according to the new faith gave up the slaughter of animals and the eating of meat. Consequently, the ritual was altered and the katora broke and offered coconuts instead of sacrificing goats to his persa pen .

Individuals, too, take up new practices even if no other member of their local community shares their beliefs. Thus Atram Bhagwant Rao, the senior member of the raja family of Kanchanpalli, has adopted many Hindu rituals, which he performs as part of his private worship. In the courtyard of his house he grows a tulsi plant, and this he circumambulates every morning reciting prayers and sprinkling water. He also worships every day at the sanctuary outside the village, where an image of Hanuman, a stone Nandi, and a lingam stand on a small platform under a shelter. Apart from performing these rituals, he also observes various prescriptions of high-caste Hindus. Thus he no longer eats any meat and shuns alcoholic drinks, two taboos for which there is no justification in Gond tradition. Though Bhagwant Rao is highly respected and popular, there is no indication that any of the

[4] See The Gonds of Andhra Pradesh , p. 112.

villagers of Kanchanpalli follow his example. His religious views and observances are regarded as his personal affair, and he does not try to convert others to his beliefs, nor does anyone criticize him for what Gonds might easily regard as eccentricities. While the breach of a taboo compulsorily observed by the entire village, such as the taboo on leaving village land on certain days of communal rites, would expose the offender to being fined or at least seriously upbraided, no one cares if a member of the community observes extra restrictions.

A certain laxity in the observance of customary taboos is, however, noticeable. Thus tradition prescribes that before the celebration of Holi, known to the Gonds as Durari, no one should begin ploughing. Yet men who employ farm servants on an annual basis have developed a tendency to make them begin the ploughing even before Holi, allegedly because they do not want to waste labour for which they have paid.

The celebration of Holi itself has changed. Nowadays the young men and the children throw red powder at each other and also squirt coloured water at anyone who comes their way, just as is done in Hindu villages and towns. The younger people do not even know that this is an innovation, but old men confirmed my impression that it is a new practice insofar as Gonds are concerned. Previously they used the red petals of Butea frondosa blossoms to decorate the frames put up for Matral and Matri, then pounded the petals and threw the resulting red paste at each other.^[5]

As long as changes are neither drastic nor rapid, the actors themselves often do not realize that their conduct is altering, and few Gonds are able to say how far religious ideas have diverged from the traditional pattern. Yet one of the old headmen told me how he saw the developments which have taken place in Gond ideas and behaviour:

The worship of the gods remains the same, but now there is less devotion, and the prescribed procedure of the ritual is not observed as rigidly as it was in my youth. The young people do not follow our instruction with sufficient attention. Once tigers used to kill people, but since we are mixed up with Banjaras and Marathas men kill men, and we have to defend ourselves against people. In the old days by sheer force of devotion we could protect ourselves against tigers, but now there is not enough devotion to serve as protection against people.

Some changes in the traditional cult have been made necessary because of the intrusions of non-tribals. Thus in 1970 the immediate vicinity of the famous sanctuary of the goddess Jangu Bai at Parandoli

[5] See The Gonds of Andhra Pradesh , pp. 437, 438.

was forcibly occupied by Hatkars, Mahars, and Mangs, who had come from Udgir and Ahmedpur. As Parandoli lies in Rajura Taluk of Maharashtra, the many devotees of Jangu Bai in Andhra Pradesh could not prevent this defilement of sacred ground. All they could do was to move some of the sacred objects to Dodunda near Chorgaon, and there they set up a subsidiary cult centre which for the time being is safe from pollution.

A cult like that of the Gonds, which is not concentrated in a few great centres, but dispersed over innumerable small shrines and sanctuaries, each of which is of enormous sentimental importance for individual groups, is clearly vulnerable once tribesmen no longer live in compact tracts of country. Non-tribal newcomers, ignorant or even unmindful of the susceptibilities of the Gonds, often interfere by sheer accident with places and objects which appear inconspicuous and ordinary and are yet of vital importance to the religious feelings of the local tribesmen.

Whereas Hindu and Muslim settlers are almost totally ignorant of Gond religion, many Gonds are becoming increasingly familiar with Hindu ideas and practices. This is due not only to the influence of reform movements inspired by Hindu values and even of such concepts as moksa ("salvation"), but also to the Gonds' growing interest in pilgrimages to distant Hindu shrines. Encouraged by local Hindu entrepreneurs, many Gonds of Utnur Taluk have in recent years undertaken journeys to Tirupati, the great Vishnu temple in the extreme south of Andhra Pradesh. These entrepreneurs hire buses for the entire trip and charge the Gonds about Rs 120 per head for the return fare. Two people can visit Tirupati, do some sightseeing on the way, and get the god's blessing for about Rs 250. This is a substantial sum even for a well-to-do Gond, and it is surprising how many people go on such pilgrimages. No doubt the sense of adventure and the desire to gain prestige are motives as powerful as purely religious considerations. As the Gonds have never believed that their fate in the land of the dead depends on merit acquired in this life, the wish to gain merit can hardly rank high among the incentives to incur the expense of such a trip, but there is a belief that a deity as famous and powerful as the god of Tirupati can render his devotees assistance in their difficulties in this life.

The extent of the religious knowledge gained on such a pilgrimage is probably next to zero, but there are other channels through which some information on Hindu deities and mythological figures reaches the Gonds. Wandering sadhus occasionally visit Gond villages, and though they seldom preach, they do tell some stories in exchange for the food which they consume or are given as alms. Thus most Gonds have for some time been vaguely familiar with the main figures of the

Ramayana and the Mahabharata. It is only in recent years that extracts from these epics have been translated into Gondi; for example, Atram Ramu and Kotnaka Jalim Shah of Gunjala translated a simplified version of the Ramayana from the Marathi of a printed pamphlet into Gondi and distributed handwritten copies to several villages. The same two Gonds also invented new terms for the numerals above seven, for which no words exist in Gondi, and another Gond of Gunjala, the headman Kumra Gangu, developed a special Gondi alphabet. Yet neither the new numerals nor the alphabet attained currency outside the village where the experiments were made. Far more successful is the Gondi translation of a Marathi folk drama based on the Ramayana, made by a Gond of Mahagaon. The translation is written in Devanagari characters, and sufficient copies, all written by hand, were made to enable actors of an amateur troupe to memorize their parts.

While I stayed in Kanchanpalli in 1976, I saw a performance of this troupe. The courtyard of the ashram school was used as a stage, and the school building as back stage, where the actors dressed and changed when they had to take over different parts. A band of drummers and cymbal players, established on the verandah of the school, accompanied the action throughout the play. At times the musicians sang bhajan -like songs, and the actors often joined in these songs. The musical side of the performance was somewhat repetitive and monotonous; there was no variation in tune or expression whatever episode was being enacted.

The actors were dressed in colourful costumes, and gods and kings wore sparkling headdresses, which in the light of a pressure-lamp looked expensive, though they were made of very cheap, glittering materials. The play lasted without interruption from 9 P.M. to 5 A.M., and the audience, made up of the villagers of Kanchanpalli, persevered in watching, impervious to the chill of the December night. As each actor took the stage, he began by singing a song in a bhajan tune, accompanied by the musicians and a small chorus. The parts of women were invariably taken by young men, and no woman joined in any of the dances which formed part of the drama. A joker who engaged the characters in bantering conversation provided a comic element throughout the play. There were long stretches of dialogue, but the actors never faltered. As it would have been a prodigious feat to memorize completely the parts of a play lasting eight hours, it must be assumed that there was a good deal of improvisation. Gonds are used to improvising, and the skits enacted at the Dandari festivities give them practice in enacting a known scene even if they do not remember the precise text.

Such folk dramas familiarize the Gonds with various themes of

Hindu mythology, but it would seem that the wholesale adoption of the Marathi pattern of a musical play is a mixed blessing. There is little spontaneity in either music or dialogue, and in expressiveness the acting is inferior to that of the actors in the improvised skits enacted at Dandari time. A displacement of the indigenous musical style of the Gonds by Marathi songs must result in an impoverishment of Gond artistic taste, but it is doubtful whether the Gonds themselves are aware of this danger.

As vehicles for the spread of Hindu ideas, such dramatic performances of parts of the Ramayana and Mahabharata certainly have an educational value, for if Gonds want to move as equals in Hindu society they must be able to understand references to figures and events depicted in the great Hindu epics.

Hindu missions, such as the Rama Krishna Mission, do not operate among any tribal societies of Andhra Pradesh, and there is no question of a formal conversion of any of the tribes to Hinduism. In the eyes of the Hindu majority, such a conversion would serve no purpose, for rightly or wrongly it is assumed that without any special effort the tribal populations of the state will in any case be assimilated to Brahminical Hinduism.

Even at the time of Muslim rule, Islam never attempted to proselytize either Gonds or any of the other tribes. Christian missions, on the other hand, particularly the Catholic Kerala Mission, have opened schools in Adilabad, and although so far few converts have been made, it is not unlikely that some of the children now in Christian schools will ultimately be converted and form a small Christian community within the tribal population. So far Gond reaction against such a possibility has been outspokenly negative, and in one case parents whose children had gained free places in a mission school were put under pressure to remove them, under the threat that in the event they did not do so, they and their families would be barred from intermarriage with other Gonds. Such intolerance is not general, but it indicates an anxiety that any prolonged influence of representatives of a foreign religion on Gond children might erode the cohesion of Gond society, already weakened by the economic domination of non-tribals.