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The word makes up the world. Woven into stories, it runs the globe and stalls it too. In this, imagination is its ally. It fuels the mind of the inhabitants of the planet (I don’t want to use the word “humans” because nobody knows whether a butterfly or a blue whale can or can’t imagine.) Stories are our fodder. Even when these stories are in the packaging of “non-fiction”, the style of writing is more engaging when it is told in a storytelling format and not bogged down by copious data, tables, pie charts and notes. In his book, My Head For A Tree: The Extraordinary Story of the Bishnoi, the World’s First Eco-Warriors, Martin Goodman clubs many such stories of real people to bring their reality, both in the now and the then, to the foreground. Bishnois, the cover page reads, are the world’s first eco-warriors.
The Bishnois: then and now
Let me first introduce Bishnois quickly. They are the people indigenous to Rajasthan who have given up their lives to save trees as well as wildlife. They follow 29 rules (Bees: twenty, Noi: nine in Rajasthani dialect), hence Bishnoi – all of them pertaining to non-violence and simple life. In a documented incident from 1730 in the village of Khejarli in the Thar desert of Jodhpur, Amrita Devi, along with her three daughters (Asu, Ratni and Bhagu), got their heads chopped off for protesting against the cutting of Khejri trees in a rare green patch in the desert (Khejri trees are crucial to the desert ecology, hence holy to Bishnois). Amrita is said to have said, “Sar santey rukh rahe to bhi sasto jan” (My head for a tree; it’s a cheap price to pay.) 363 Bishnois, including elderly men, a bride and a groom, gave their lives. Read that again. It was called a Khejarli massacre and was perhaps an inspiration for Sundarlal Bahuguna’s Chipko Movement.
In the last two decades, Bishnois have made the headlines, but because of the people present in their periphery. Actor Salman Khan’s black buck case brought a spotlight upon the Bishnois in 1998. The superstar, along with other film actors, was allegedly hunting black bucks, an animal sacred to Bishnois. Here, it is imperative to mention that all animals are sacred to Bishnois, even Neel Gaai, which are one of the most harmful animals for a farmer’s crop. The mishandling of the Khan case (the post-mortem of the animal was allegedly botched in the investigation) led to a snowballing of things. Now, decades later, Lawrence Bishnoi is in the news for threatening Salman Khan for his actions. The book spends little time on both these issues. These are done and dusted in the initial pages, like a mother forcing a bitter pill down the throat of a child before popping a sweet into his mouth. Goodman, rightfully, spends the briefest number of pages on the Khan–Lawrence conundrum and moves on to better people. The Bishnoi people. The book is about them, not about gore-flecked, threat-riddled scandals. Good man writes: “These children won’t be taught about Lawrence Bishnoi.”
When the author asks his guide Ram Niwas about death threats to film star Salman Khan, he replies: “We are non-violent people. What is the difference between us and Salman Khan if we kill him?”
The book moves from person to person, all Bishnois, of course, recounting tales of unmatched valour and love for those who don’t have a speaking tongue: the animals and the trees. One of them is Birbal Bishnoi, who was killed by poachers. His statue was erected in the village. He was survived by Pushpa, his wife, who now adopts chinkaras into her home. She says, “Animals need to be protected first. Humans can defend themselves.” It’s not uncommon for a Bishnoi woman to breastfeed a young motherless animal.
Many Bishnois have made task forces (the Bishnoi Tiger Force) to patrol the desert. They save wounded animals and keep an eye out for poachers. Many have died fighting them.
Another inspiring story is of Radheshyam Bishnoi, who climbed over a several-feet-high pylon and forced the government to fit reflectors into the electricity lines that crossed the route of the migratory Great Indian Bustard, electrocuting them. It’s an endangered bird but nobody cared, except Radheshyam. He is also a part of a patrolling force that pulls the carcass of dead animals away from the train tracks, as it was leading to the death of the vultures who descended upon their food, unmindful of the approaching death. The book is full of such stories, which might come as complete surprise to some readers. The life of an animal, for many amongst us, isn’t worth a penny.
The environment and humans
Goodman doesn’t put much emphasis on issues like caste and female empowerment: the two most burning issues in Rajasthan. He skirts around them, shifting the spotlight to focus it upon someone else who’s doing what the planet needs. But that’s okay because the book, being dedicated to the ecology around humans and not humans themselves, has another purpose.
I feel deeply for the animals, especially stray dogs, now rechristened as community dogs. It is, however, not because I am a Bishnoi too. The love for the strays didn’t come to me because I was born into this name. It just crept stealthily and I started feeding the dogs and adopted a couple of dogs with leg anomalies into my home. Recently, at my work place, someone shifted (or perhaps drowned it in a nearby pond, there is no way to know) a four or five month old severely handicapped puppy I had been taking care of, from the safe place I had put it in because “it was shitting too much”.
Shifting a territorial animal is as good as killing them. When I asked about the puppy at my workplace, my question was met with laughter and an occasional sneer. There is no cost to the life of an animal in our society. It is unfortunate but it is the truth. Dog feeders and caregivers have to constantly go through abuse and heartbreak, former at the hands of cantankerous people who assume that feeding a hungry animal is akin to fuelling a fire and the latter when the said animals die, by being crushed under cars or poisoned because they were barking or “causing a nuisance.” (I have seen four dogs die/disappear in the last six months.) If you are reading this review, please be kind to the dogs who spend their entire lives on violent roads, scampering for a bite or two of rancid food, having to fight for a scrap amongst themselves and suffering grievous injuries because of that.
If you can’t be good to the animals, at least don’t harm them. Also, contrary to what Goodman says, you can be a Bishnoi too.
My Head For A Tree: The Extraordinary Story of the Bishnoi, the World’s First Eco-Warriors, Martin Goodman, Profile Books/Hachette India.
This article first appeared on Scroll.in
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