A young Madia man overcomes discrimination and reconnects with his cultural identity.

WORDS Natthu Maroti Gawade with Aniket Bambole

IMAGES AND VIDEO Natthu Maroti Gawade

Natthu Gawade with a group of community members in the lush green forests of Gadchiroli district outside his village. Villagers form groups and patrol twice a week around their forest village to discourage trespassing and protect the forest from forest fires and other illegal activities.

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I’m Natthu Maroti Gawade, thirty-four years old, a resident of Kothri village, Bharbhidi post, Chamorshi Taluk, Gadchiroli district, Maharashtra, India. I belong to the Madia Indigenous community (one of the tribal groups known in India as Adivasi). This is the story of my life’s journey, during which I faced humiliation and social discrimination just for being an Indigenous person. It’s the story of how I confronted the misinterpretation of our culture, traditions, and knowledge systems by missionaries, scholars, academics, and the public from mainstream society. It’s the story of how I made it my mission to change that narrative.

My people’s original homeland is in the state of Chhattisgarh, but some of our ancestors migrated west and settled in Maharashtra. Traditionally, Madias are hunters and gatherers in the vast and dense forests of our homeland. We have our own distinct culture, traditions, customs, beliefs, values, and knowledge systems. We speak Madia and are animists, that is, we worship nature. Our supreme deity is Kupar Lingo, believed to be the incarnation of Lord Shiva (the Hindu God of transformation of the universe).

I faced humiliation and social discrimination just for being an Indigenous person. 

Gadchiroli district, where I live, is endowed with lush green forests and innumerable streams and waterbodies. About eighty percent of the district is covered with forests. My village was founded by my maternal great-grandfather during the 1860s, when he bought this piece of land for three Indian rupees. Back then, fifteen rupees was equal to one British pound.

Over time, the population of the village has increased, and the sociocultural and economic fabric of the community has changed. Before the advent of a formal education system, Madia children spent their early years under the guidance and surveillance of tightly-knit extended families. Even today the whole village is one big extended family consisting of families of siblings, cousins, and close relatives. I spent my early childhood in an extended family, but soon the formal primary education system took me away from my village and my family.

I was sent to a government tribal residential school for my primary education, fifteen kilometers away from my home. I then received my secondary education at Parampujya Mahatma Gandhi School in Ghot, which was also several kilometers away from my home. Later, I went on to pursue my college education and finished my undergraduate studies with a Bachelor of Arts degree. After my undergraduate studies, I finished two master’s programs, one in Marathi literature and the other in social work.

The forest in Gadchiroli district. Some of the tree species that grow in the forest include the mowai or moyen tree, also known as the Indian ash tree (Lannea coromandelica Hoult); the galai guggul tree (Boswellia serrata); the en tree, also known as Indian laurel (Terminalia tomentosa); and the sagwan (teak) tree (Tectona grandis).

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As a child, the entire experience of being taken away from my family and living in a hostel was very traumatic for me. Yet, I finished primary and secondary school education without facing any social discrimination, likely because my fellow schoolmates were all from Indigenous communities and the schools were meant exclusively for Indigenous communities.

My life, however, changed drastically after college admission. For the first time, I experienced humiliation and social discrimination just for being me — an Indigenous person. At college, I realized that students from other castes and communities perceived Indigenous people as wild, savage, uncultured, and subhuman. My fellow students (including my friends), teachers, and other college staff passed derogatory comments about Indigenous communities, the Madia language, and our food habits. They often said to me: “You people eat raw and uncooked animal flesh.”

Such humiliation pushed me into a state of self-doubt, self-loathing, and low self-esteem. Social discrimination instigated what I call “self-discrimination,” and I started loathing myself. I distanced myself from my own Madia culture and traditions, to the point that I refused to speak Madia. I often felt that someone was holding me back and forcing me to speak Madia — very sad, but true!

Respect for myself and my community does not come from society but from me.

Social discrimination did not leave me even after college. I moved farther away to a nearby city, where I took admission at a coaching center in preparation for the entrance test to a master’s program in business management. There, I faced the same humiliation and discrimination as in college. Other students called me names. They dubbed me a “free rider” because of the reservation policy of the Indian Constitution, which guarantees a certain percentage of seats in education and employment for the disadvantaged segments of society, including the Scheduled Tribes, the Madia being one of them. Fellow schoolmates often made discriminatory comments such as, “You have reserved seats, and we are losing out because of you. You guys are snatching away our admissions at premier colleges and universities by doing nothing.” Others had less than kind words, like “You belong to Gadchiroli, you must be a Naxalite [extremist], you all are Naxalites.”

Such extreme levels of social discrimination left me lonely and without friends at that institution. My entire education was a quest. All along, I was in search of my own identity and the identity of my community. I yearned to gain respect for myself and my community from mainstream society. Eventually, I discovered that respect for myself and my community does not come from society but from me.

Scientific researchers and development professionals from mainstream society have been misinterpreting and misrepresenting the culture and traditions of Adivasi (Indigenous) communities.

Education, the space where I endured discrimination and lost my childhood, identity, and self-respect, was also the place that taught me to rediscover what I had lost and to take back my own power. The master’s in social work exposed me to sociology studies. It not only taught me about the structure and functioning of human society and about social problems but also made me aware of the situation of other Indigenous communities around the world. And I realized that scientific researchers and development professionals from mainstream society have been misinterpreting and misrepresenting the culture and traditions of Adivasi (Indigenous) communities in their so-called scholarly works and in the socioeconomic development programs designed for Indigenous communities.

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A gotul (community temple).

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For instance, the gotul tradition is an important practice of Madia people that is misrepresented by outsiders. Gotul is a community temple, and almost every aspect of our life and our village is closely associated with it. The gotul is the place where conflicts and various issues are communally resolved in the village. A family feud is usually considered an issue for the whole village, and everyone helps to resolve it. Besides being a temple and a place of justice, gotul is also the place for socializing and courtship of young unmarried men and women, who congregate and participate in communal dances involving traditional music and songs. Courtship between interested couples may follow such traditional dance rituals. Mainstream society, however, judges this traditional practice as immoral. Scholars and development practitioners often interpret it as consummation before marriage, without the consent of parents and Elders. But this is not necessarily the case. There is also a distorted belief in the mainstream that traditionally young people of our community elope and get married, but this, too, is not true.

In reality, the majority of Madia marriages are arranged based on clan alliances. Madia clans are divided by their kula devata (family deity). The alliance between a Madia man and Madia woman is only allowed between the clans of different kula devatas. Marriage among the members of the same kula devata clan is strictly prohibited (perhaps to prevent inbreeding).

When an alliance is fixed, the bride’s family and the groom’s family sacrifice a hen and rooster respectively, and the planning of the wedding follows. The bride offers traditional wine brewed from mahua flowers (Madhuca indica) to her uncle in a cup made from mahua leaves. The mahua tree is an integral part of every auspicious occasion and ritual of Madia people.

Totem poles, or marming munda (literally, “wedding pole”), are carved out of the mowai or moyen tree, also known as the Indian ash tree (Lannea coromandelica Hoult). They are erected in the courtyard of the groom’s place to commemorate the wedding. In the absence of mowai, poles are carved out of the galai guggul tree (Boswellia serrata), which produces Indian frankincense. Based on the kula devata clan, mundas are planted at the wedding pandal (marquee or theater). Mundas other than the farming munda are made from sagwan (teak) tree (Tectona grandis). Only sisters of the groom are allowed to erect marming munda in the courtyard.

Interestingly, the ancient Indian Ayurvedic texts suggest that Lannea coromandelica has broad-spectrum anti-microbial properties and is used in the treatment of dysentery, sore eyes, leprosy, and genital wounds. Similarly, Boswellia serrata is used for the treatment of asthma, hay fever, sore throat, syphilis, period pains (enhances urine flow and stimulates menstrual flow without pain), acne, migraine, diabetes, and cancer. There is much more to Madia wedding traditions and rituals; yet, mainstream academia and missionaries relegated those customs to random hookups, elopement, and consummation before the wedding without the approval of parents and Elders — all of which is not true.

Marming munda (totem poles) erected in the courtyard of a Madia family.

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A marming munda.

Our traditional dance and music forms have also been downplayed by mainstream society, as have those of India’s other Indigenous communities. There are 705 ethnic groups officially recognized as Scheduled Tribes in India, and almost every ethnic group has its own distinct art form of dance and music. Yet the Sangeet Natya Academy, the national academy for performing arts in India, recognizes only eight traditional dances as Indian classical dances, and most tribal art forms — of which some sources identify at least sixty — are missing from this list. The rela paata, the Madia community’s traditional art form, does not appear on it.

Madia women and men performing a traditional Madia dance.

Rela paata is a mix of traditional dances and music of the Madia people. The music and dances are different for men and women. Men’s dance steps are called rela and women’s are called rilo. Similar to other tribal art forms, rela and rilo involve exchanges of banter, romance, teasing, and expressions of love between the sexes. There are also a few strict rules of rela paata. For instance, the men’s dances (rela) can be initiated and sung by both men and women. However, the women’s dances (rilo) are reserved only for women. This is an example of women’s freedom and supremacy bestowed in Madia culture. Unfortunately, the entire image of courtship, gotul, and art forms such as the rela paata has been distorted by scholars and academicians, especially the missionaries.

Our culture, traditions, customs, and values are designed to maintain balance with the environment and live in harmony with nature.

Perhaps the most pervasive way in which our own perception of ourselves differs from outside representations lies in our relationship with nature. In our culture, our Elders teach us to respect and love nature from early childhood. Our traditional rituals are the way we introduce young children to respecting and pledging loyalty to forests and nature. Our culture, traditions, customs, and values are designed to maintain balance with the environment and live in harmony with nature. For instance, the rituals devoted to our supreme deity, Pheda phen, introduce the child to worshipping nature from early on. Pheda phen is worshipped in the form of an en tree, as we Madia call it, also known as Terminalia tomentosa, Indian laurel, silver gray wood, crocodile bark tree, and locally as asan.

Women (in the background) consecrating a marming munda at a Madia wedding, with Natthu (foreground) in attendance. Photo: Shiva Maroti Gawade

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Pheda phen is a dual nature deity, worshipped by men in a feminine form and by women in a masculine form. Men and women do not intermingle when they worship. Men and boys visit an en tree together. They believe that women in the family are embodied in the en tree and offer prayers to the women. Likewise, women and girls visit an en tree together and offer prayers to men in their family. Besides the en tree, our people also worship soil, land, rivers, streams, hills, fallows, and stony outcrops — everything is sacred for us.

Mainstream scholars and practitioners say that Indigenous cultures are closely associated with nature, but I would say that nature is our culture. We cannot differentiate nature from our culture; for us, they are one and the same. And there lies the difference in narration, when others speak for us and when we speak for ourselves!

In this video, Natthu speaks in the regional language Marati about the importance of remembering the Madia language and traditions. Video: Natthu Maroti Gawade

.The Madia community worships nature on the second day after the marriage ceremony. On that day, the Madiya dance and sing in procession to the newlyweds. 

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Acknowledgments: The authors would like to acknowledge the encouragement, guidance and help received from Kanna K. Siripurapu in writing this story.

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Natthu Maroti Gawade belongs to the Madia tribal community. He graduated with a Master of Arts in Marathi Literature and a Master in Social Work from Gondwana University, Gadchiroli, Maharashtra. He uses his education to change the distorted narratives in academia and mainstream society about Madia culture and traditions.

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Aniket Bambole is a graduate student in development studies at Azim Premji University. His interests lie in improving rural health and sanitation, promoting rights-based approaches to the economic development of Indigenous communities, and mainstreaming traditional knowledge and practices. Read more from Aniket Bambole.