“Ask them what their names are,” a father manning a street food stall gently commanded his young daughter of not over ten years old. The beaming but shy little girl obliged, “What is your name?” she inquired, staring wide-eyed at my friend. “I am Karla and this is Marky and your name is?” answered my ever responsive friend. The young girl smiled before telling us her name, “I’m Amara.”
Scenes from a Weekly Market and Local Encounters in Seoni | Madhya Pradesh, India
Our local guide and Pench Tree Lodge’s resident Naturalist Chinmay Deshpande explained to us that young girls in the village were always eager to meet foreign travelers – especially English-speaking ones because they wanted to practice speaking the language. While Karla talked to Amara, Chinmay further engrossed us with a detailed explanation of the various kinds of street food vended by Amara’s father.
Karla even tried making a Jalebi - a sweet food made from all-purpose flour battered in pretzel and soaked in sugar syrup, then dipped to form circular shapes into a deep frying pan. We were at a market in the village of Vijaypani in the Seoni district of the state of Madhya Pradesh. The village was about fifteen kilometers from our accommodation, the Pench Tree Lodge.
The Haat or Weekly Market
Just when I thought I had seen every concept of markets in Asia, I got introduced to this model of haat souk. A haat was a weekly market prevalent in many rural areas in India, Bangladesh, Nepal, and Pakistan. Haat bazaars were not permanent and were set up on specific days in different places.
In Seoni, haat markets were held in a different village every day. In Vijaypani, traders set up stalls every Tuesday. Occupying a few blocks of the village near a cornfield, the small haat seemed to have everything a normal villager would look to purchase for household needs. One row sold fresh vegetables, another one traded poultry produce and seafood, while others were for peddling clothes, spices, and even jewelry.
Like all markets, one could hear loud haggling that raised decibel levels whenever vendors started competing with each other. "Seventy rupees one kilo onion," a hawker would yell to attract the attention of a buyer, and another one would offer a lower price by bawling out a better deal, "Sixty rupees onion one kilo."
It was like the rural version of a Sotheby’s auction house – only more colorful and animated. What fascinated me was their practice of using an old weighing scale wherein one had to balance processed items with a one-kilo, two-kilo, and up to five-kilo stone, to know the exact weight of the purchases.
Sarra-Hirri Village of the Gondi Tribe
On our way back from the haat to Pench Tree Lodge, Chinmay took us to the Sarra-Hirri Village, which was located along our route. This small town was inhabited by people belonging to the Gondi Tribe.
The Gondi people spread across the states of Madhya Pradesh, Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, Chhattisgarh, Maharashtra, Telangana, and Orissa in India. They were considered part of the "Scheduled Tribes" of India — a classification given to historically disadvantaged groups [1].
Ethnic groups belonging to the Scheduled Tribes classification used to form the lowest strata of Hindu society, with historical literature referring to them as "untouchables." Thanks to the new constitution effected after the Independence of India, tribes classified as Scheduled Tribes and Castes were allowed political representation and had since achieved "Positive Discrimination." This meant tribe members could pursue education and were allowed employment in government and private organizations.
It was almost sunset, as evidenced by the rays of the sun emitting a sparkling sheen at the tips of golden cornfields, when we arrived at their small village. The village sat in the middle of a long winding road verged by lush paddies of rice and corn.
At first we only saw a few mothers mingling outside and a few kids fetching water from the neighborhood well. As soon as they caught sight of us, more people came out of their houses eager to socialize with us.
Through Chinmay, who acted as our interpreter, we learned quite a few things about their way of life. The mothers all wore their traditional clothes of sari and Patiala salwar. Appearing very colorful and tasteful, both the sari and the Patiala were the favorites of the village women because of their comfort and coolness to the body even during summertime.
Even in these modern times, the Gondi tribe still lived in their own traditional houses made of clay and roofed with shingles or ‘kavelu’. Outside each home, one could see their farm and poultry animals such as cows, goats, and chickens lazily lounging around.
After entertaining the kids who crowded us and asked for group selfies on our phones, we bade them goodbye before pedaling back to our place.
What seemed to be a simple exploration of the countryside surrounding Pench Tree Lodge ended up as a very absorbing and educational bicycle tour about facets of local culture as well as the way of life of the Gondi people.
