Living with Lions

Maldharis, the last human inhabitants of Gir forest, are justifiably proud of their coexistence with big cats. But not for long

It is 5.30 pm at the settlement of Dudhala Nes, deep within Gir Forest in Gujarat’s Junagarh district. The shadows of dusk are lengthening and there is an urgency in the air. Among the 50-odd members of the Maldhari tribe who live here, there is a lot of shouting going on. Women are rushing to gather the children. The evening meal is cooking on pots atop mud-finished chulhas. The men are washing the animals, milking and feeding them.  They have just about an hour to finish all their work.

“By 6.30 pm, we all have to gather in the common courtyard that connects all our houses. We eat our food and confine ourselves to our houses. By 7 pm, all movement must stop,” says Lakka Jeta, a resident of the hamlet. Maldharis are herdsmen; the word itself means ‘owner of animal stock’. Even before they step into their small houses, the other inmates of Gir forest, Asiatic lions, have moved out of their shady confines for a night of free roaming in the jungles. The big cats are everywhere, but there are more of them near Maldhari settlements—known colloquially as ‘Nes’. They are drawn by the livestock. A study conducted by the Gujarat government some years ago found about 25–50 per cent of the livestock being eaten by lions. “Maldharis living here are important to the lions,” says Bhiku, a forest ranger, “The lions kill other animals too, but often only after a long chase. Livestock is easy prey.”

Despite the threat of lions, Maldharis do not make pucca (permanent) fences. They usually make do with rough separators built with the thorny branches of the Babul tree found in abundance in Gir. Lions jump easily over them to kill and drag their prey away. Often, the predators leave their kill behind in the Nes, withdrawing into the surroundings only to sit waiting at a distance for Maldharis to dispose of their dead animal. “When a lion attacks an animal, it causes grave injuries,” says Jeta, “So we throw out the [dying or dead] animal and let the lion get its meal.”

Maldharis do not grudge the lions taking their livestock. According to traditional belief, the lion owns the jungle—of which they are but inhabitants. So when a lion kills their livestock, they consider it a sort of rent paid for their occupation of jungle space. “Our livestock is an offering (prasaad) for the lion,” says Bhaanumati, the matriarch of Dudhala Nes.

Reverence for the lion extends to the way Maldharis speak of it. In conversation, they make no direct reference whatsoever. So it is not sher, it is always ‘bada janwar’ (large animal) or ‘woh’ (It).

During their mandatory annual visit to the temple of Ma Momai, they pray to be kept safe from lion attacks. “We make a mannat that if no human being among us is attacked by a lion, we will offer the goddess rice and ghee. The visit to the temple is compulsory for all Maldharis,” says Bhaanumati.  

They are strict vegetarians. An attack by them on lions is unheard of. If a lion enters a settlement and finds it difficult to exit, they make loud noises to scare it away, but that’s about it. When out grazing their livestock, they keep an eye out for ill or injured lions and inform forest rangers and trackers. “If a lion attacks our livestock when we are grazing them, we let it take the kill away. We keep moving our livestock from one place to another so that the top grassy patch is not denuded,” says Bheela of Darula Nes.

Though the state government hands out a compensation of Rs 1,500–2,000 for every domesticated animal killed, the paperwork is just too much for it to be effective. “We let the money go,” says Bheela, “We have to go to the big office at Junagarh at least four times. We do not have time for it.” They need to get a forest guard within whose purview their Nes is located, and show him not just the spot where the lion killed the animal but also its remains. They then need two people’s signatures vouching for the kill, and all this is just the first step in getting compensation.

Maldharis have been living inside the forest long before it was declared a lion sanctuary. There are 52 Nes’ in west Gir and about 35–40 in east Gir. All these settlements are spread far apart and deep in the forest. According to folklore, Gir’s Maldharis are descendants of two brothers; as the two branches of the family expanded, they spread themselves far across the forest. Though the community is divided into many castes, those living within Gir are of either Rabari or Charan caste. The latter are considered ‘higher’ in the caste order and there is rarely any inter-marriage between the two.

The families are large. Men may marry as many times as they want. All wives and children live together. Marriage between families operates by the maxim, ‘a girl for a girl’. “We give our daughter and marry the groom’s sister to our son. This is compulsory. So families that do not have girls find it difficult to find brides for their sons. Such families have to adopt a girl and then have her married, otherwise their sons will not get brides, irrespective of the dowry offered,” elaborates Poda Sajan of Ganga Jaria Nes.

So firmly entrenched is the caste system that they do not let me enter their homes (Poda Sajan is keen to know my caste). Untouchability dominates all personal dealings. Tea, usually offered in cups to people of the same or higher caste, is served in saucers to anyone whose caste is unknown. In the event of this rule being broken, Maldharis put themselves through a ‘fire test’. “We light a fire and walk through it to purify ourselves. Otherwise, if we touch a Muslim, we become paak (pure).”

However, they do have to visit towns or other urban settlements, and on such occasions dine at dhabas or affordable hotels. What about defilement issues then?  “We just eat and drink tea. We think the cooks at these hotels are upper-castes,” says Sajan.

Living in the jungle also means they are all illiterates. The four months of summer deplete their financial resources, and so they spend a bulk of their income from the milk business on animal fodder. “Yet, they manage to make a sizeable profit,” observes Sajan. Every day in the morning and evening, a milk van goes around collecting milk from Gir’s Maldhari settlements. Equipped with cellphones, they are part of the chain that forms the co-operative milk sector in the state. Later in the day, a truck comes along and takes away all the animal dung for the state’s gobar gas plants. All Maldhari settlements are either close to watering holes or natural wells.

They don’t put their money in banks. Instead, they buy gold. The men, women and children all wear a lot of this metal—chunky earrings, bracelets, rings and chains. They have not escaped the bug of modernisation, clearly. It is only the older men who wear their traditional garb of white kadiaoh (pleated short kurta) and chorni (pyjamas). The younger men have started wearing shirts and trousers, as this is affordable and easy to wash. There are only a handful who tailor the traditional wear, which works out rather expensive.

Women, however, do not yet have the freedom to opt for such attire as a sari or salwar kurta. They have to drape a thick black or dark maroon cloth over an underskirt, the way a lungi is worn. The cholis and headgear are extremely colourful. Body tattoos are an essential part of a woman’s get-up: those on the wrist are shaped like bangles, those at the ankles are like anklets, while a choli shape is tattooed on the back and front of the torso. “When we die, this is the jewellery we take with us,” says Bhaanumati, “The choli tattoo ensures that the upper part is never fully naked.”

Another important jewel, compulsorily worn by the married Maldhari woman, is the nose ring (a widow may wear colourful clothes but not this). Every Maldhari man sports a moustache, the thicker and longer the better. It is believed that a man who does not sport hair above his upper lip is not ‘man’ enough to look after his tribe.

Despite Maldharis’ admirable co-existence with the lions of Gir, the Gujarat government is keen on moving them out of the forest. They are being offered monetary compensation and agricultural land in other places in the state. Many have taken the inducement and moved out, and many more want to follow. It’s only a matter of time before Gir loses its last human inhabitants.

About The Author

Haima Deshpande