Pahadi Jito - some people from an unseen village in the upper Himalayas

   Pahadi Jito was a very old blind woman who lived in the small house that backed up into the hillside cave on the cliff on the high mountains above the village of Trishul-ki-chatti. The peepul tree, the great old peepul tree at the edge of the cliff was probably more than four hundred years old and was remarkable for its history and the many stories that were attached to it for many long years.
   She knew the story of the peepul from her grandmother who had said that her grandmother had spoken about it with the story of how Aurangzeb's armies had come in search of his brother who was thought to be hiding in the high Himalayas near the village of Trishul-ki-chatti.
   The very old blind woman always claimed that she was related to some of the extended families of one of the soldiers and nobody disbelieved her. She was the only one who seemed to know all the old stories and some stories that the descendants of the soldiers had not heard about.
   She was commonly called by the name of Pahadi Jito because of her house that had been built into a cave. Nobody knew if that was her actual name and nobody questioned her. People did not make fun of her blindness or her age as she was respected by the elders and the youngsters had been asked to remember that.
   Pahadi Jito was the one who had returned from the dead and that made everyone fearful of her. She would come out of her house and sit below the great old peepul tree to feel the warm breeze that would rise up from the river valleys below the cliff. This was the only spot in the village where one could sense the warm air as it came up from over the oaks and poplars and rhododendrons on the slopes.
   Every day, Bhoora would bring up some food for Jito from his house and they would eat together. At just about noon, Jito would return to her house and take her nap. On some days when Bhoora would travel to the valley below on work, his wife, Rajjo would come up and sit with her. Rajjo would help Jito and clean up the room and do up the bed. Unlike the silence with Bhoora, the ladies would talk to each other and would speak of the many and not so many events and happenings in the village.
   Pahadi Jito would listen to these stories and would speak knowingly about each family and their houses and the streets on which they lived. Jito knew the trees on these streets as she had to touch and hold on to each one and knew the number of steps it took her to walk from one house to the other.
   It had not been so dismal for Jito. She had lost her eyes to an unexplained illness from the epidemic that had killed many in the village. It had been gradual and she had accepted it. She was grateful that she was alive and on some days she was happy that she had become blind.
   The epidemic had taken away her husband and her parents and her son and daughter. The village headman and the panchayat had thought that Jito was infected very badly and was about to die. They had carried her away with four others similarly given up for dead to the cave at the cliff on the mountain slope above the village.
   Her house had been burnt down along with her dead family members and the entire place and rubble had been flattened out and covered over with soil. They had burnt garbage and dry refuse on the site for the next five years on her house and such other houses to make sure that the epidemic would not return.
   The villagers discovered Jito to be alive and sitting below the peepul tree when they went up with another infected and thought-to-be fatal person. All others left in the cave had died. They had returned and spoke about her being alive but blind and moving about. It was discussed in the panchayat and they decided that it would be good to leave some food and drinking water for her at the peepul tree and let her know. The villagers were very superstitious and they did not want to upset the spirits and gods by not taking care of a person who had returned from the dead.
   On some days when Jito sat under the peepul tree at the edge of the cliff, she could recollect her peaceful family life. Her parents had been living with her during the epidemic. They had come to visit her and her family to greet them on the occasion that Jito's daughter had gained puberty. It was an important and joyous occasion.
   It had been difficult for Jito to explain to her daughter about puberty. She had only been eleven years old and Jito could very vividly remember her daughter's large innocent eyes and the sad surprise that now she would have to suffer from this matter for every month. Jito tried to explain to her that it would be strange only for the first 3-4 months and she would get used to it.
   Her daughter had asked her in a very sad voice, "How can one get used to bleeding each month? Will my friends and villagers laugh at me?"
   Jito could never forget that day. Going against all convention in the village, she had hugged her daughter and had held her tight to her. Now, as she sat under the peepul tree, she was grateful for her blindness. She could always see within herself and see her daughter and feel her sobbing body as she had held on to Jito with all her strength. She would hug herself every day, sitting under the peepul tree and would keep talking to her daughter.
   Just three days after that conversation, her entire family was dead and Jito had become one of the badly infected persons who were to be left aside to die by themselves. She tried very hard, every day, to recollect her days in the cave but she could not. She had been badly sick, very weak and hungry and thirsty. The villagers had not provided any food or water for fear of infection if they would come up repeatedly.
   Jito had not panicked when she realized that she could not see. She had thought that she was dead and that this was how it was after death. After some hours she had felt hungry and thirsty and recognized that she was not dead but had lost her eyesight.
   She knew of the cave. She had been here since her childhood days and had played at the cliff with her friends. She had come up to the cliff with her husband to get away from her family and neighbors and to sit with him. They had loved to sit below the peepul tree. They had walked about here, searching for flowers to gather and take home for prayers.
   Jito remembered that there was a very slow and thin trickle of spring water amidst the rocks of the cliff and once her husband had got some leaves and flowers from near that stream. Jito had crawled out of the cave and got some water to drink at that spring and that had saved her.
   She was however more grateful to the peepul tree. She had sat there, alone, through two days and three nights, feeling the warm wind that came up from the river valley. They had brought in all the memories along with the fresh breeze and had given her the strength that she needed. She ate the flowers as she knew that she could and survived with the help of the spring water and all the minerals that it contained.
   The villagers had found her sitting below the peepul tree and they had let her be. The four others in the cave had died and the panchayat officer from the valley below had been angry. He had the bodies shifted and got them cremated at a special place that had been so created after the epidemic. The panchayat office from the valley had sent a team of sanitary workers to clean and disinfect the cave and washed it thoroughly. They had also burnt a tremendous amount of dry grass and wood within the cave to make sure that it was cleaned up.
   They shared their food with Jito and a medical assistant had given her some injections and medicines. They had left all their camping supplies and stoves behind with her and Jito had moved in and started living in the cave.


Bharat Bhushan D#3+4

Bhoora - Some people from an unseen village in the upper Himalayas

High up in an unseen village in the upper Himalayas...

   Bhoora has four donkeys. He comes up every day to the great old peepul tree at the edge of the cliff and sits with Pahadi Jito, the very old blind woman whose house has been built into a cave on the side of the mountain at the cliff. Bhoora would join Pahadi Jito with his four donkeys. Every day, he would bring up some food for Jito from his house and they would eat together. 
   The donkeys would graze nearby, quiet, for it was almost like they knew that they should not disturb the old lady. At just about noon, Bhoora would help Jito to return to her house and take her nap while he would continue to sit below the peepul tree. 
   He did this every day as he had no work to do unless and until someone needed to hire his donkeys to go down the mountain to the villages in the valley and to bring back goods and stuff. On those days, Bhoora's wife, Rajjo, would come up and sit with Jito. 
   Bhoora had been born at Trishul-ki-chatti but he could not remember his parents. They had died in the great epidemic that had hit their village and nearby valleys. Many people had died, it seems, but nobody knew for Trishul-ki-chatti was an unseen village in the higher Himalayas, somewhere where the mountains range amidst India, Nepal and Tibet. 
   His parents had named him differently but the villagers called him by 'Bhoora' right from his childhood. His skin was pale white, fairer than the others and his eyebrows also had white hair. The villagers never knew of such a pale person but he was one of the village and they accepted it. They knew him as he was and they took care of him and the other children who had been orphaned during that epidemic. There was hardly any possession of value and Bhoora was allowed to live in and given his parent's house, a largish hut, when the villagers had thought it fit for him to stay by himself. 
   They had their reasons to ensure that Bhoora had a house to live in for there was word that a family in a valley village of these high Himalayas had a daughter to be married. There was no better assurance to convey about an orphan boy other than that he had his own house and that the entire village had recognised his right to live in it. 
   Bhoora would have been 14 years old when the family came to visit with their daughter and other relatives. They had checked out the house and approved of it. They found Bhoora's very pale skin to be fascinating. One very oldish relative in the family spoke of how he had met two Russian explorers who had come walking in from Tibet, lost and without any of their belongings. They had claimed that it had been stolen by a lama in a Tibetan village that had a woman as the headman. The oldish relative had announced that Bhoora had a complexion similar to the Russians but he could not ever remember if they had white eyebrow hair. 
   The villagers of Trishul-ki-chatti were happy. So what if Bhoora looked like a Russian or two Russians. Anything was ok as long as Bhoora brought in a bride to their village. The news would spread and other families would perhaps agree to give their daughters in marriage at Trishul-ki-chatti. They had found it difficult to bring in new brides to their very remote and unseen village after the big epidemic. Families did not like to give their daughters to a place where they could not visit regularly. Bhoora had been happy about it though he had no idea of what a marriage would mean. 
   Bhoora had been fourteen when he had got married and Rajjo, his wife, was only twelve years old. The wedding was done but the girl's family took Rajjo with them back to their village with the promise that she would be brought back in a couple of years. Rajjo's elder brother and maternal uncle had stayed back at Trishul-ki-chatti with a team of four persons from their village. They stayed with Bhoora and worked on all the repairs to be done on his house and also taught him a great deal about house construction in the Himalayas. This is not taught in engineering schools or colleges and there is no such academic program. This can only be learnt from the most experienced from the same area. 
   They went about the high mountains in search of good stones and clay mud and helped Bhoora strengthen his existing house. Two additional rooms were added and a good roof was put in place. The villagers of Trishul-ki-chatti were quite happy about it. Most of the elder masons and roof makers and craftsmen had died in the epidemic and they had been struggling. This was an opportunity to learn and they helped Bhoora and the team on the work in his house. 
   Bhoora spoke  to Rajjo's maternal uncle about Pahadi Jito, the very old blind woman who lived by herself in a cave near the great old peepul tree at the edge of the high cliff above the village. Rajjo's uncle was very curious and they went up to meet Pahadi Jito. She welcomed Bhoora and Rajjo's relatives and the entire team and told them stories of earlier times and made them feel very happy. They had never met anyone like her in the valley villages. She spoke of the mountains, of her Himalayas, and the sound of the rivers flowing in the valleys below. She spoke of the peepul tree and of how Aurangzeb's warriors had camped nearby in the days gone by. 
   Rajjo's maternal uncle was a rather very practical person. He looked about the cave and of how she had made makeshift arrangements with whatever she could find to close up the opening and of the temporary tin sheet door without any latch or lock and of all the other temporary furniture that she had. He looked at her stoves and a cooking platform that looked like it could fall apart any moment. He asked Jito if she had problems in the winter and if she went away to stay with others. 
   Bhoora explained that it was he who had insisted that Pahadi Jito stay with him at his house during winter as he was living all alone. He was not frightened of having an old blind person live with him unlike most of the other villagers who were terrified or superstitious about her. Her presence in the long winters helped him in the days of confinement and Pahadi Jito said that the young boy was always a good listener. He would cut up the vegetables and soak the lentils and rice and knead the wheat flour and the old lady could put it all together and make splendid dishes and that it probably was better than most of the other houses who would feed him out of charity. 
   Whether it was out of concern for the very old blind woman or worried about the eventual disruption in Rajjo's privacy, her maternal uncle had decided that hey would construct a house to cover up the cave opening and provide warmth and security during the entire year. Pahadi Jito could later decide by herself if she would want to stay at the cave in the winter or with Bhoora and Rajjo.
   The villagers of Trishul-ki-chatti were very curious to know how this would be done and were keen to learn about the stone work and crafstmanship that would be involved. But before building the house, Rajjo's maternal uncle declared that they would travel with Bhoora to the valley below and transport up some much needed lime and mortar and wooden windows and doors as this would be very necessary. 
   Bhoora traveled to the valley with them and very fascinated he was by all that he saw. It was his first journey away from Trishul-ki-chatti and the expanse of the world in the valley below was awe inspiring to him. This was a very different world. Rajjo's relatives had several shops in some of the villages and they were all involved in house building and carpentry works. One of the relatives had returned from a big job in building a primary health care centre at the tahsil headquarters that was a walk of four days south if you could walk that fast in these upper Himalayas. 
   He had ten donkeys that had been used to carry supplies and the rich Punjabi contractor had allowed him to take them away as it was illogical for him to take them all the way back to Beas. Rajjo's relative had happily accepted but now he was worried as it was a lot of work to take care of the donkeys. He suggested that he would give away the donkey's to Rajjo's uncle if they promised to purchase all their supplies from his shop and no one else. 


Bharat Bhushan D#1+2 

Santo wants Rajjo to share her blessings - Village stories from the upper Himalayas

High up in an unseen village in the upper Himalayas, somewhere where the mountains range amidst India, Nepal and Tibet...

The great old peepul tree at the edge of the cliff was remarkable for its history and the many stories that were attached to it for many long years. The peepul was more than four hundred years old, according to the very old blind woman who lived in the small house that backed up into the hillside cave. She knew the story of the peepul from her grandmother who said that her grandmother had spoken about it with the story of how Aurangzeb’s armies had come in search of his brother who was thought to be hiding in the high Himalayas near the village of Trishul-ki-chatti.

The armies had camped below the peepul tree because they could keep a watch on three river valleys below the village from this high cliff. They had been Rajput soldiers who were hunting Aurangzeb’s brother as the Prince did not trust his father’s regiments. Two soldiers had hurt themselves and had broken their legs in a bad fall from their horses and had decided to settle at the village of Trishul-ki-chatti. The village had welcomed them since their Rajput sardar had vouched for them and had provided the much needed money to repair the old Bhairav temple.

The elders got them married to two young women from the village and their families continue to live there. Some of the youngsters have gone away to Delhi, Jaipur and also to Bombay, but they return faithfully to attend the religious festivals and marriages and other events. The very old blind woman always claimed that she was related to some of the extended families of one of the soldiers and nobody disbelieved her. She was the only one who seemed to know all the old stories and some stories that the descendants of the soldiers had not heard about.

The very old blind woman was commonly called by the name of Jito or Pahadi Jito because of her house that had been built into a cave. Nobody made fun of her blindness or her age as she was respected by the elders and the youngsters had been asked to remember that. She would come out of her house and sit below the great old peepul tree to feel the warm breeze that would rise up from the valleys below. This was the only spot in the village where one could sense the warm air as it came up from over the oaks and poplars and rhododendrons on the slopes.

Bhoora would join her and sit with her, with his four donkeys. Every day, he would bring up some food for Jito from his house, and they would eat together. The donkeys would graze nearby, quiet, for it was almost like they knew that they should not disturb the old lady. At just about noon, Bhoora would help Jito to return to her house and take her nap while he would continue to sit below the peepul tree.

He did this every day as he had no work to do unless and until someone needed to hire his donkeys to go down to Ratnapura. On those days, Bhoora’s wife, Rajjo, would come up and sit with Jito. They would talk to each other and would speak of the events and happenings in the village. Rajjo knew everything that went on in the village and would talk about it to Jito. The old blind lady would listen to these stories and would speak knowingly about each family and their houses and the streets on which they lived. She knew the trees on these streets and knew the number of steps it took her to walk from one house to the other.

On such days, Rajjo would go within the house with Jito and clean up the room and do up the bed. She would pick up a bucket and fill it with the very few used utensils and Jito’s clothes and walk down from the cliff to her house in the village. Here, she would wash the utensils and the clothes and dry them off on the roof when the afternoon sun was it its best. Santo Begum would watch from the roof of her house that was just separated by a small mud wall, two feet high.

And on each such occasion, Santo would call out to Rajjo in her usual affectionate manner. “May you be cursed, my sister! May you be cursed, for you are always about collecting the blessings of the old Jito, all by yourself. Allow us to share in her blessings. Let us also be of some help to her. Take me with you when you go to meet old Jito. I will cook for her the next time.”

In reply, Rajjo would always smile and bow in respect with her palms together in a Namaste. “My sister, how can I do that? For, you are such a good cook and your food is praised by your husband and mine, when we eat together. How can I allow Jito to know that she has been missing out on good food and good company in all these years? She will never allow me to be with her after that!”

“You are a very bad neighbour, O Rajjo! I know how evil you are! Come, let it be, and come over the wall and sit here by the shade of the clothes that I have hung out to dry. I have some very good parathas and lauki-ki-sabji (= bottlegourd curry) and my homemade dry mango pickles. Let us eat together and let me press your tired legs and hands so that some of Jito’s blessings are passed on to me. This way or that. I will not be denied her blessings and you cannot escape that.”

Bharat Bhushan

6 October 2019