One sees them sometimes on construction sites, at traffic crossings. Magnificent looking women in patchwork cholis and skirts—in red, yellow and green—bedecked with shells and mirrorwork.
Their heads covered in flowing veils, arms laden with ivory bangles. These women belong to a wandering tribe that hailed originally from Rajputana and made a living through selling salt, ‘lavana’ (hence the name Lambani/Lambada), arms, ammunition and food grains to the Mughal army on its march towards the Deccan.
The Lambanis eventually put down roots in tiny pockets across North Karnataka, Maharashtra and Andhra Pradesh where they lived in settlements known locally as ‘thandas’.
Havan by Mallikarjun Hiremath, translated from Kannada by S Mohanraj, is the story of one such settlement, the Havan Thanda, and its chief, Somalya Naik.
Though there are several narrators, the story is mainly told by Basappa, a school teacher, who comes to the settlement to instil basic literacy skills in the children.
Thus we learn of the legend of Sevabhai, the Lambada hero whose songs are sung by wandering performers, and about the community’s effort to preserve its core values, embodied in its patriarchal structure and marriage customs, ‘the roots that remained invisible, but had the strength to anchor a huge tree’.
Somalya Naik, a strong, progressive leader, sees the need for change but asks if every tradition must necessarily be dismantled. ‘Should we become completely like you?’
Living on the fringes, marginalised by government policymakers and exploited by local landlords, owning a piece of land that they can collectively till, seems a way forward for the Lambada community, but this effort too is violently suppressed by the upper castes.
Politicians enter the fray. Eventually, when the land is obtained, it is sold by Somalya’s son to a wealthy quarry developer. Havan Thanda becomes Lakshmipura.
Somalya, mourning the uprooting of the neem tree held sacred by the community, recalls, ‘If you asked someone to swear by holding a branch of the tree, a person who had lied would begin to shiver.’
The tree is gone, as is the temple to Sevabhai. ‘In this original temple and the tree lies our lives, our souls, our identity.’
That loss, perhaps, is more than we can understand. ‘Where are the people who can empathise with us?’ asks Somalya, as the novel draws to its inexorable, explosive end, symbolically, tradition dynamited.
Though presented as a story, the work stands out for its authentic depiction of a way of life that has, sadly, become a footnote in history. It articulates the quandary that tribes worldwide have faced.
Tradition cannot be transformed through prescriptive measures. Modernisation isn’t easy. Unless people themselves change, any transformation may be for the worse.
Havan
By: Mallikarjun Hiremath
Publisher: Ratna Sagar
Pages: 208
Price: Rs 349