Civilization away from civilization

"We are going to Jhabua for Diwali, and we'll be staying in jungle-villages with the tribals over there... It will be fun." That was Dad's statement a week before Diwali, and it drove me mad. "What!!! No way. I am not going. You guys go ahead and enjoy with the bheels. I am happy here." Dad, ignoring my outburst, went ahead to plan the trip and explain other details to mum. I kept on ranting and stomping about what an insane idea it was, and at least leave me out of it. No one paid any attention to me.

I was outraged. I was being forced into going and living in a jungle for the most important three days (and nights) of the most important Hindu festival. I tried my best to spoil the plans, and to bribe mum out of it. "I will go only if you let ME drive the whole way." And lo, Mum said ok. Oh no!
Well, so we ended up getting bundled in the car on 26th October Sunday morning, and setting off for a 200 kilometer drive (I gave up driving after 50 kilometers) to the villages of Jhabua. We reached Meghnagar, the largest town in the district. Apparently, Dad was invited by some NGO called Shivganga for a stay in the villages. Shivganga works for the tribals of district Jhabua, helping them become self-dependent, and

protecting them from the government. Ironic, huh?

Maheshji greeted us at the Shivganga ashram, under a shed with two cows and two calves tied up to posts along with a goat. The smell was overwhelming. A timid woman arranged for chairs, which dad refused, and we sat on the ground with everyone else- Maheshji, a village woman, her grand-daughter and a few village men who were tending to the cows. Frankly, I was not too excited. Dad was bursting with enthusiasm, introducing us to the people around. Maheshji was the head of Shivganga for that particular area. He sensed mine and my sister's boredom, and suggested a walk around the fields surrounding the ashram. I reluctantly agreed. The fields were beautiful. On coming back to the shed, Maheshji had a surprise waiting. A baby rabbit. I and my sister immediately brightened up at the cute little thing. That was the moment I decided that the trip wasn't that bad after all...

I got busy playing with Chikku, the baby rabbit. Dad was discussing which village to go to for the rest of the evening and night. "Aaj aap Jamsingh ke ghar rahenge", Maheshji told dad. Jamsingh was waiting inside the ashram to take us to his home. He took a motorcycle, and indicated us to follow. We got back in the car, without the rabbit, and took off after him.

After about 7-8 kilometers of traveling on no roads, we reached a small school, where we had to park. Jamsingh told us that his hut was about half a kilometer from here, and there was no way the car could go further, so we were on foot with our luggage. My luggage, that is, as only I decided to carry my backpack. Others thought they will collect their stuff later. It had grown dark, and we navigated through about 2 kilometers of grass, fields, pathways in the middle of tree clumps and mud, we reached Jamsingh's hut. Everyone immediately started greeting us with "jai siya ram". It was easy to see that everyone was overexcited about having city guests.

We were seated on cots, and the introductions began. Jamsingh had 6 brothers, and 5 children. His wife and youngest brother's wife were cooking dinner on old-style chulhas. The kids were everywhere. And in the inner room they had three buffaloes, and two cows. I was starting to enjoy myself now. There was no electricity, and the only light came from a small kerosene-lit chimney. Inside, the cooking was going on full-throttle. I got curious enough to go inside and try doing it myself. As soon as I rested my bum on the mud floor, Jamsingh's wife screamed at her daughter to bring a chair. She thought I would be uncomfortable. I tried to convince her that I was alright on the floor, but to no avail.

Soon we were discussing their life, how they live without electricity, what they do all day and what kind of festivals they celebrate. According to central government, 100% villages in Jhabua have electricity, but unfortunately, only 10% of the homes in these villages have actual connections. The government has even opened schools, one for each village, but the teachers are locals, who come and go as they please. There, the villages are not like your average clustered huts with a temple and proper lanes. Two huts usually lie at a distance of one or more kilometers, separated by the fields of the hut owners. It is like a hill station, all slopes and greens, a rare hut and cool ponds.
I discovered that these people were friendlier, happier and more content than anyone i had met in the cities. I took to them immediately. Dinner was eaten, and we all slept on the cots. I never had such nice sleep in my own room. And I woke up at 6 on my own!! We went for a stroll in the cold dawn, and it was a most wonderful feeling. Then came the chai, and then the little fire to warm ourselves. The people were absolutely wonderful. All neighbours came to meet the city guests, and invited us to their homes. I later came to know that the extra cots were arranged from the neighbours, and so were the extra blankets.
We went for a stroll in the nearby forest, and then for a dip in the pond. Refreshing! We had our lunch and then proceeded on to another village. Jamsingh escorted us all the way through the non-existent "roads". Our next stop was at Bhavasingh's place. An enthusiastic greeting awaited us there. After the usual chai, we met all of Bhavasingh's family members- his wife, sons, wife's sons, cows, buffaloes and the goats. All in all, a large and peaceful family. Amazing hospitality and superb food made me realize that living in a village with none of the usual benefits of knowledge that we are so used to enjoying, is not so bad after all.

Later we stayed the night at Bhavasingh's hut, and left the next morning for Meghnagar to the ashram. There we stayed for lunch, and then picked up Chikku the rabbit, and Rani its mother, and left for our city. The whole escapade taught me one thing- that there is a better civilization outside our so-called civilized cities, where the people respect each other, trust each other, and welcome everyone with complete honesty and open arms... where there is no prejudice and no prejudgement, no enmity and no scorn. Where people know how to live and how to love, how to forgive and how to not hate. If I was not a typical city- dwelling addicted-to-comforts brat, I would have enjoyed a few more days in the peaceful and refreshing valleys.

All in all, it was an experience that taught me a lot, thanks to Shivganga and its mission.

The Art of Selfishness

One thing that has been criticized time and again by one and all- is selfishness. Ingrained in our brains since 1st grade (Oh my god she's so selfish!! Doesnt even share her chocolate!) is the notion that those who think of themselves above all others are Selfish, and to be avoided.

Once in fifth grade, I refused to share my lunch (pasta- something that we as fifth graders didnt bring to school very often) with my friends. I suffered the consequences. Tagged as 'that selfish girl', I had literally no friends left for most of one month. I felt so guilty for acting selfishly that i forced my mother to let me distribute chocolates so as to regain my deemed selflessness in class.

Thats one time thinking of which I criticize myself for giving in to the common masses and not taking my stand. And now that I am relatively more enlightened than me fifth-grader self, I realize that selfishness is my greatest virtue.

You may think that I am just repeating Ayn Rand, and I will agree with you. Her ideology of Objectivism has hit me so hard that I can never see the world in the same way as I used to for the past 20 years.

I now realize that those who have been telling me to be generous, and to place the good of others before my own, are just big losers who dont know how to live, and who will never be happy in their lives. After all, why should I share my lunch with those who have not contribuited anything towards it and who will not, in future, offer me their lunch anyways?

I completely agree with Ayn Rand that selfishness has been gravely misunderstood through the generations. I would go a step ahead and say that if there is any true religion for me, its objectivism, and the art of selfishness. Selfishness does not mean striving for our own benefit while demeaning others. Its just that one cannot think selflessly unless one is completely satisfied with oneself- a state rarely achieved by most of us.