A new chapter begins for the Jarawas

AS I glanced at the newspaper that morning, one headline caught my attention, ‘Isolated and hostile for long, Andamans’ Jarawa tribals now enrolled as voters’. I remembered the day when I first had a glimpse of these tribal people. Jarawas are a vulnerable group; they are believed to have been living on the islands of Andaman and Nicobar for the past 60,000 years.

Advertisement

During a family trip to Port Blair — the capital of the UT — we visited Baratang island, 150 km to the north. There were beaches, mangrove creeks, mud volcanoes and limestone caves. We were given strict instructions not to stop the vehicle midway or try to have any contact with the Jarawas. Photographing them or offering food was strictly prohibited. We were to follow the convoy and remain within the safe route of the Great Andaman Trunk road that cut through their forest homeland. Jarawas were regarded as hostile and uncompromising defenders of their territory and stories of their attacks on convoys were also in the air.

With trepidation in our hearts, we drove on the meandering road through the ancient forest with huge old trees, winding vines, shrubs and grasses. We were mesmerised by the variety of birds and insects that dotted the landscape. The sound of the ocean waves just beyond the forest created a perfect setting for visualising a romantic portrait of the fearless tribals — hunting, fishing, foraging and surviving while being in consonance with nature.

As the vehicle took a sudden turn, a group of seven-eight Jarawas, wearing minimal clothing and carrying bows and arrows, appeared on a mound and were gone in the blink of an eye. Still deeper in the forest, on a high ground, I saw a woman standing majestically behind tall grasses, her bare torso covered with garlands of bright ochre flowers. A tiara of flowers adorned her hair. Her serene face and the contrast of her dark skin glistening in the sun with the orange flowers made it an other-worldly spectacle. The whites of her eyes shone brightly, as we exchanged a glance for a fraction of a second. If I had to paint a picture of the earth personified, it is this image that I would choose.

It was in January this year that the Jarawas gained a new identity — as registered voters of India. About 19 of the 240-odd people were registered in the first phase. The inclusion of a secluded group in the democratic mainstream is a cause for celebration. However, it struck me that we had been able to mould the carefree children of nature, untouched by the base forces of modernisation, into formal citizens, who would henceforth be duty-bound to be wary of political machinations and false promises, be calculative and guard their interests more vigilantly. These thoughts made me a little melancholic.