The Kondh live
in strong, beautiful bodies, a canvas on which the muscular form manifests in
alluring high-definition.
The tallua Kondh
(flatlanders) are the proverbial ‘chhota
packet, bada dhamaka’, (good things come in small packs) with physiques of indefatigable
marathoners; a natural consequence of the fact that their life is a hectic aerobic
workout with elements of anaerobic endurance.
Men from villages closer to the dangar (hills) farmed the steep slopes and were built more like welter-weight
fighters, their muscles meatier and form more together. Kondh men don’t know about 6-pack abs, they just have them. A ripped set for the young ones, a softer, arty outline for the middle-agers and even when that fades, their stomachs are flat. Skin settles into loose folds
around the waist but the abdomen keeps its firmness as if the tissue was unaware
of the possibility of the horizontal dimension.
If it were not for the non-Kondh trader-class Sundis
in their midst, they wouldn’t recognize a paunch as an anatomical feature. A notable
exception though was folks who had taken up a vocation that preempted their natural
lifestyle. Like the guy driving the mini-bus to and from town or our very own Krushna,
who sported a fine round and shiny belly.
*
Curiously, I didn’t see many young women. Only either
school girls or middle-aged ones whose hips had locked in a ‘jutt-out’ owing, in some degree I
suppose, to their farm-work posture. They spent excruciating lengths of time bent
around the waist at an awkward 90˚, transplanting paddy saplings, weeding etc.
When they start paying attention to women’s bodies, boys
often get taken in by clichés of long, never-ending legs wherein, a lot of
attention is paid northwards of the knee; to the thighs, the rump, possibly due
to their proximity to Mecca. It is not unnatural but in doing so, there is a
tendency to overlook the simple elegance of the leg in the leg, the stump, just
off-the-ankle and the soft flare into the calf; the rigid line of the tibia against the succulent flesh of the
gastrocnemius.
The lean limbs of the Kondh women betrayed a delicate firmness or were a stringy marathoners’ variety. In girls
as young as five, you could see the gutsy thighs of a superior muscle tone. It
was so refreshing! You don’t see such bodies in the city anymore.
When I was about to fly to Australia a few years back, folks
told me, ‘Oz is phenomenal! The girls there are all super-models and the guys
all have six-packs!’
When I landed, I wondered if they meant a six-pack of beers. That’s what all the guys had. And the super-models did not come-by that easy. I would humbly submit that at 29, I had a more beautiful body than most of the 21-year olds I met, who had logs for legs and ham-hands from their penchant for red-meats and binge drinking.
Not so with the Kondh.
Their bodies had retained the form of the original blueprint. Blessed with the
simple, natural economy of a highly-functional musculature and untainted by the
perverted size-worshiping of the sub-urban gym.
*
Following the 2014 football World Cup, many social
commentators and bloggers prophesized that us Indians would never excel at the sport as we are naturally unathletic. Even
in cricket we ace the ‘stand-up and deliver’ craft of batting, not the more physically
demanding skill of bowling, fast-bowling specially, they bolstered their position.
What do we do with these ‘urban tucchas’ (shallow fakers, credit
Sanjay Rajoura) and their pigeon-brained
conception of India? This kismet
meherbaan, gadha pehelwaan (an idiot having a run of good luck) clan. The
‘have mouth, will speak’ tribe, who think Chetan
Bhagat not being nominated for a Pulitzer is racist. With a world-view shaped by Facebook memes, emboldened by e-publishing, they ‘speak their mind’, an act no
different from ejaculating on sterile porcelain, a horrendous waste of
possibility.
They forget that a reasonable man subjects his right to
have an opinion to the duty of having done due diligence, which is a ceaseless
process.
A reasonable man. Is it too much to ask for?
*
This is the third essay in the series of short writings based on my experiences during recent travel to the villages and forests of Niyaam Giri in Rayagarh district, south Orissa. The tour was kindly facilitated by Living Farms, an NGO doing stellar work with local Kondh aadivaasis on food-sovereignty and farming related issues. Food-sovereignty is not the same as food-security, which for the most part is a Govt-purported farce.
*
This is the third essay in the series of short writings based on my experiences during recent travel to the villages and forests of Niyaam Giri in Rayagarh district, south Orissa. The tour was kindly facilitated by Living Farms, an NGO doing stellar work with local Kondh aadivaasis on food-sovereignty and farming related issues. Food-sovereignty is not the same as food-security, which for the most part is a Govt-purported farce.
The Niyaam Giri are home to the Kondh deity, Niyaam Raja and to extremely rich bauxite reserves that, some commentators believe, have already been sold on the global commodity futures market through hundreds of MoUs signed by the Govt. with large mining conglomerates, Indian and foreign.
*
No comments:
Post a Comment