Munshi Premchand, one of the most celebrated writers in India, has written a wonderful story called Gilli Danda. Written in 1933 when the British still ruled India, he began the story with an emphasis on the importance and charm of indigenous games versus traditional games.
I loosely translate his words: “Whether our English friends believe it or not, I would say gilli danda is the king of all sports. Even now, when I see boys playing gilli danda, I feel like going and playing with them. No need for a lawn, no court, or net. You can cut a branch from a tree, make a gilli, and when two people arrive, the game begins… I love gilli more than all sports and gilli is the sweetest of my childhood memories.”
The narrator looks back at his childhood in a village, where his closest friend was poor, but an exceptionally skilled player of the traditional game gilli danda. As children, they played together — arguing, cheating, and making up. The game created a space where all children were equals.
Years later, the narrator returns to the village as a successful, well-educated officer. His friend remains poor and has been worn down by years of hard physical labour. The narrator invites his friend to play gilli danda once more, hoping to relive their childhood bond. His friend plays poorly and allows the narrator to win. While at first, the narrator believes he has lost his old skills, later, he realises that his friend still possesses the skills. It is the innocence of their childhood friendship that is gone. What perhaps is wonderful about these childhood relationships is the ease with which everyone plays together. Also, traditional games like gilli danda are accessible, democratic, and rooted in community.
Sadly, many of these games have slowly disappeared from our landscape. What makes this game so special is the lessons embedded in it. It is played by tapping the gilli (the short peg) on the tapered edge, so it pops up into the air and then hitting it while airborne as far as possible.
While at first glance it seems simple enough, the game involves incredible hand-eye co-ordination, and an estimation of how far one can hit the gilli.
Every one of us, in the course of our lives have to estimate or predict what we can or cannot do. This defines the resources required, the plans to be made, and the time required. This is probably one of the mportant lessons encapsulated in the simple rural game of gilli danda.
Interestingly, the Portuguese play a similar game called Batu. The only difference is that the short peg is dropped and hit while still in the air. Simple ideas find expression across the world. It is for us to preserve them.