Special Report

“Going to Kachchh? Carry many bottles of mineral water and tea bags with you,” advised a friend.
Kachchh, said to be among India’s largest, though least populated, districts, is closeted in the northern corner of Gujarat bordering Sindh in Pakistan. Much of it is stony, barren desert, which hosts only thorny shrubs and cacti. The Rann of Kachchh is a vast salt-crusted flat plain, dotted with low lying hills, which stretch as far as the horizon across the border into Pakistan. During the monsoons, torrential rains turn much of the region into a vast swamp, causing scores of villages to be marooned. But that is honeymoon time for the pelicans, storks and flamingoes that arrive here in hordes from Russia and beyond. Floods, cyclones, droughts, scorching summers and, as in 2001, occasionally earthquakes are a regular feature in Kachchh, making it one of the most harsh inhabited terrains in the entire country.
Muslims form around a fifth of Kachchh’s population, and they are a majority in some of the northern parts of the district. Traditional Kachchhi Muslim attire is unique: Women wear a long kurti, heavily embroidered in all the colours of the rainbow, and ankle-length skirts shimmering with mirror work. They cover their hair with bright-hued dupattas. Most women, and even young girls, wear heavy, delicately-crafted silver jewellery. These are, in a sense, the family’s major assets. Married women wear massive nathnis or nose-rings made of pure gold and these are traditionally passed down from one generation to the next. Most Kachchhi Muslim men wear kameez and salwar, generally blue, white or brown. But the literacy rate among Muslims here is abysmally low. It is just 10 per cent and among women it is a pathetic 5 per cent. Many of those who claim to have passed secondary school can only read and write their names and nothing else.
Meghpur, Rambagh, Nooraninagar, Adipur, Sonapuri, Thal, Nakahtrana, Paiyya, Vazira Vandh, Luna, Dhediya, Umri Vandh, Goriwali, Motedatar, Bhambara Vandh, Kadan Vandh, Kodiki, Desalpur, Sumra Vandh… these are some of the villages and hamlets where Muslims live, which we happened to visit on a recent trip to interior Kachhch. Many of them are located far off the main highways, and are accessible only on foot or camel cart. There are no roads leading to these villages. They are linked to the outside world only by tracks in the sand that can easily be blown over in desert storms.
Muslims in rural Kachchh hold on to their caste identities tenaciously. There are said to be literally several dozen endogamous Muslim castes in the area, such as the buffalo-rearing Jaths, the Samas and Sumras, whose ancestors once ruled Sindh, the cloth-printer Khatris, and communities such as the Raimas, Jiyajas, Miyanas, Langas, Narejas, Hingorjas and the Sodhas, who now mainly survive by dry-land farming and cattle-grazing. Most of them speak their own dialects of Kachchhi, which is related to both Sindhi and Gujarati.
Stark poverty is widespread in the villages of northern Kachchh, especially in areas inhabited largely by Muslims. Many people here eke out a living by making coalsa or charcoal. Some families supplement their meager incomes through selling milk, and by cultivating tiny patches of arid land that hardly bear any crops. Ganda Bawar, a thorny wild bush, has spread its roots throughout rural Kachchh. Its unchecked growth is said to have led to massive soil erosion and an alarming decline in the water table, and has also caused considerable rise in soil salinity, rendering it even more infertile. This has prevented the growth of green grass, which, further lessening the available fodder reserves, has forced cattle to survive mainly on tiny thorny shrubs that brave the burning heat and the infertile soil of the Kachchh desert. Two years ago, the government legalized the burning of Ganda Bawar and converting it into charcoal. This is a tough back-breaking job and the whole family gets involved in this as it is a question of sheer survival. Breaking stones and labouring in ‘mud mills’ owned by others that produce porcelain is also a source of livelihood for many Muslims here. Many of them also work in others’ fields as agricultural labourers since few of them own any fertile land. In the face of years of drought, numerous Muslim families have migrated to the vicinity of towns in other parts of Kachchh. Many of them, despite having lived in these places for decades now, do not even own the lands where they have built their pathetic little huts, made of mud bricks and straw strung together, and lack even the basic amenities of life.
No matter how poor Muslims in the Kachchh villages are, in almost every village we visited we noted the presence of a mosque. Often, it is the only concrete building in the entire village, but in some pathetically poor communities it can even consist simply of a bundle of logs put together. In some villages, mosques are also used as maktabs for “deeni taalim” for children. Some lucky villages that can afford it have a Maulana for this task, although, being largely impoverished, they cannot usually afford to pay them good enough salaries. Although government schools do exist in several villages in interior Kachchh, the teachers here are often in a “missing mode” or, even if they do come, they vanish after making a short appearance at the school. An Ahmedabad-based NGO, Jan Vikas, joining hands with the Jamiat ul-Ulama-e Hind, has set up the “Jeevan Taalim” centres in over 32 Muslim-populated villages in interior Kachchh, where children get to learn basic Gujarati and Mathematics.
Water in the desert is very precious. Most villages have a tank provided by the government, but often these are empty or function only very erratically. Generally, it is a long trek for women to fetch water from miles away, carrying it in pots balanced on their heads.
Drop in at a bonga, a thatched mud-house of a Muslim family living in the villages, and you will be greeted by a warm Assalam Alaikum. Even in the poorest family one is welcomed with at least a cup of tea. Conversations can carry on for hours, for all these people have their own inspiring narratives to relate about the harsh life of the desert and their will to struggle against the odds. And from them there are numerous lessons to be learnt—of sharing despite deprivation; of bravely facing the fury of nature but still remaining strong in faith; of living in harmony with nature without destroying it. And, yes, also that steaming hot tea can taste wonderful even if served in a saucer on a scorching afternoon in a remote desert hamlet!
So, contrary to what our friend had advised when we set off on our journey to Kachchh, we would say, ‘Do not carry mineral water and tea bags!’. Water tastes especially delicious when drawn up from a well in the desert and served in an earthen pot. And so does Kachchhi tea, served in a saucer when the sun is at its zenith. Because perhaps the simplicity, warmth, love and hospitality with which they are offered does something to make them feel somehow different.
(If you would like to help out with some ongoing socio-economic and educational initiatives among Muslim groups in rural Kachchh, contact Nigar Ataulla and Yoginder Sikand on ysikand@gmail.com) Photo credits- (Yoginder Sikand)