Documenting Gavri Celebrations in Rajasthan's Mewar
William Crooke’s Popular Religion and Folklore of North India, James Tod’s Annales and Antiquities of Rajasthan, the Journals of Francis Buchanan-Hamilton on Bihar and Madras, and George Grierson’s work on Bihar Peasant Life exemplify tomes that, although produced by colonial administrators, continue to evoke awe among scholars. Produced by zealous colonial administrators motivated by questions of governance and the concerns of the colonial state, this literature was also the first attempt to systematise subcontinental diversity, besides aiming to map and ‘control’ it. Despite this overarching impulse, what stands out is the extraordinary effort and wealth of detail that did get documented. These books therefore represent initial large-scale attempts to systematically document people’s lifestyles, customs, practices, beliefs, rituals and religion, apart from populations figures and the like at the subcontinental level.
The sheer scale and sweep of such scholarship provide the benchmark for contemporary socio-historical enquiries about the subcontinent. Many a scholar has marvelled, if not at the motivation, at least at the labour, rigour and extraordinary enterprise involved in these early efforts. As indispensable sources for specific regions and themes, they offer detailed insights for historical, sociological and ethnographic enquiries.
Aditi Ghosh Mehta
Playing with the Goddess: Gavri of the Mewar Bhils
Indira Gandhi National Centre for Arts, 2024
Occasionally, the information contained within, has also roused controversy. A case in point is the last all-India census carried out in 1931 which highlighted some facts in particular ways, while also downplaying others. Elided for instance, was the anguish expressed through petitions, of caste groups who found themselves listed vertically in colonial census reports, one below the other in a ‘constructed’ hierarchy. This was instead of the more flexible horizontal understanding these groups held about their own place within the system of caste. In post-Independence India, the fear of exacerbating caste divisions has often been cited as the rationale for not conducting any subsequent caste censuses. In other words, for all later discussions about caste, including heated debates on caste reservations, the figures on caste have continued to be extrapolated from this 1931 colonial data.
Which brings me to the significance of the three-volume compendium under review, Playing with the Goddess: Gavri of the Mewar Hills by a Rajasthan cadre retired administrator, Aditi Ghosh Mehta. Building on the tradition of meticulous and comprehensive documentation, Mehta has produced a rich and detailed work. She lovingly undertakes the exercise of recording for posterity, every major song narrative in the 40-day worship and celebration of Gavri (from Gauri, Gaura or Gorkhiya, Parvati), the venerated goddess of the Bhils in the Mewar region of southern Rajasthan.
The Kalbeliya on his journey to the next village. Photo: Sudharak Olwe
Bhils are among the most numerous Scheduled Tribes of India, spread across Rajasthan, Gujarat, Madhya Pradesh and Maharashtra. In Rajasthan they constitute 5.9% of the total population and comprise 44.4 % of the state’s total ST population. Mehta’s broader aim is to reflect on aspects of Bhil cosmology, history, myth, gender and societal concerns. Bhil familiarity with Puranic gods testifies to the tribe caste continuum, and centuries of tribe-caste interaction, as well as innovative ways in which Puranic stories have been re-worked, in the process. The Bhil repertoire presents refreshing and often subversive perspectives (see for example, Upat Nipat, chapter 3, Vol 3). Although innately transgressive, the festival in which these narratives are sung, is actively solicited and promoted by all castes – the performance being associated with the prosperity and productivity of the land.
The two Rais (devis) flanking Shiv (Budia with mask in hand) with a Bhopa looking on at the start of a khel. Photo: Sudharak Olwe
Banjara's brother-in-law in his comic and flamboyant role as protector of his sister. Photo: Sudharak Olwe
The first volume contains the author’s account of stumbling upon the Bhil performative oral tradition that kept her immersed and engrossed for 35 years of her administrative career. We learn of the meticulous effort entailed in recording performances, transcribing them, and then translating their rich narrative content into English. In Vol 1, we learn that despite their economic marginalisation, Gavri as a major cultural artefact of the Bhils, places them in a strong negotiating position with the wider village community. Moreover, complex negotiations between communities facilitates the support of higher castes and the political leadership. At least over the 40-day festival period, subaltern Bhil tribals enjoy the support and encouragement of all dominant castes and classes.
Khelyas (dancers) all undergo the test of fire to prove that all the required abstinences have been met. Photo: Sudharak Olwe
Volume 2 is a delightful narrative record of the plays within plays – the khelyas that take place as part of the 40-day goddess worship, as the community of performers moves from village to village, acting, singing and dancing. Astonishing vibrancy and rhythm are part of this storytelling. We are infected by the sheer joy of the narration, and the aplomb of characters such as a pair of thieves in Goma Meena, who, ‘sashaying’ into places driven by this purpose, invariably find nothing to steal! Or the sheer delight of a heroine in the khelya Bholi Bamani, who sets off to discover places of worship from Ranakpur to Deval Munwa, Ekling Baba, Uthala Mata, Kalka Mata at Chittor, Devi Amba and Nathdwara, before returning to Baghelon ka Gura. As she performs hundreds of parikramas (circumambulations), prostrations, and pava lagis (falling at the feet of deities), besides dancing in worship, the audience vicariously visits each of the pilgrimage centres, carried along and aloft, with her devotion.
The line-by-line English translations of the recordings offer the reader many surprises, plenty of mirth, and lots to delight in. Characters are vivid and purposeful, like the bhamriya who hovers over a garden, the actor costumed and suspended in space while representing an immense black honeybee. These action-packed dramas are performed with unparalleled imagination – no wonder our author was hooked from the very first moment, in the 1980s.
Most scholars tend to limit their data collection to specific research questions, but no such restrictions inhibit Mehta. As her primary focus is to record the ritual performance she witnessed, her effort conveys not only the storyline but also the enthusiasm and involvement of performers. As community participation is key, it is possible to imagine the sheer joy and fun, experienced by all.
Devi Kalka from the scene of the sack of Chittor in the khel 'Badshah ki Fauj'. Photo: Sudharak Olwe
A key feature of the volumes is the vivid, colorful photography that brings to life the mood of performers and audiences. While detailed translations of each poetic line convey narrative action, vibrant photographs capture the atmosphere. The strength of these volumes is that they celebrate the joyful creativity of ordinary people – performers, actors, singers, narrators and choreographers, who may have remained anonymous, but for this work. The carnival-like atmosphere, sustained throughout the volumes is no small feat, drawing the reader into an enchanted world of electrifying vitality, and imagination.
Perhaps only an administrator would have access to such wealth of detail, as well as the wherewithal to sustain the momentum of the recordings, over years. That the data for these volumes was collected and processed alongside official demands over the span of an entire administrative career, makes for a unique and rare collection, besides offering a labour of love. We learn how the author has watched over the material, letting it grow, allowing herself to be transformed by it.
In meticulously documenting hundreds of performance narratives, Mehta offers future scholars of folklore and cosmology a veritable archive and treasure trove – to be mined and analysed. Of course, oral narratives are characterised by immense flexibility and are liable to considerable variations with every performance, depending on context and audience interaction. Which is why Mehta had several narratives recorded in her own courtyard, under controlled conditions. This is indeed a very specific gaze, and while it could be argued that such recordings might ‘freeze’ ongoing cultural life at a particular point in time – that would be another debate.
Smita Tewari Jassal is Visiting Professor of Sociology and Social Anthropology, Ashoka University, Sonepat, Haryana.
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