Like many people living and working in Bombay, our driver Sagar comes from a village, where he lived until his immediate family moved to the city for work a few years ago. The vast majority of India's more than one billion residents live in rural communities which have changed very little for centuries, with extended families living together to work the land and the way of life being strongly ruled by religion and tradition.
We know that Bombay is not the "real India" and that we would need to travel into the countryside to see how most Indians really live. This is not a typical tourist experience and we were very lucky to have the opportunity to see authentic rural life when Sagar invited us to stay at his family's ancestral home in a small village called Shenwadi, 350km south-east of Bombay. Sagar's grandfather and various members of his extended family are based there and he speaks of the village often, visiting whenever he can.
Sagar was excited by our enthusiasm to see his home and put an impressive itinerary together for the weekend. We set off early on Friday morning and first drove up to Sagar's home in Airoli, a northern suburb of Mumbai, for (a second) breakfast and chai and to meet Sagar's mother. We were welcomed into his home (a single room for his family, as is common in Mumbai) and met Sagar's friend Sagar (easy to remember), who would be joining us on the journey to the village.
The journey was long but we travelled via Mahabaleshwar, a hill station 250km from Mumbai. The geography around Mahabaleshwar is impressive; the hill station is set on a wide plateau 1500m above sea level and the views from the road on the ascent and from the hill station itself are incredible. Mahabaleshwar is famous for strawberries and honey; there are farm shops and strawberry sellers everywhere, and it has many amazing look-out spots named after intrepid Victorian travellers. We couldn't spend too long in the town, just long enough to enjoy a Gujarati thali for a late lunch, before setting off for Sagar's village, Shenwadi.
We spent two nights in the village. This was a huge eye-opener in terms of seeing a way of life which is so entirely different to our own. Simply, the way of life in the village has changed very little for hundreds if not thousands of years, with deeply entrenched culture and tradition dictating the way of life.
We stayed in a small house outside the village which belongs to a relation of Sagar. Compared with the other houses we visited, this was the height of luxury. It had a bed (of sorts, we took our own bedding), proper stone flours and an outdoor wash room and squat toilet. We were slightly perturbed when another family seemed to be living there when we arrived but it seemed that they were supposed to be in the room next door and were quite happy to move out. We felt very guilty but Sagar didn't seem at all bothered! The kind mother whose room we had invaded spent the next two days making chai and offering to boil hot water for us!
We ate with Sagar's family during our stay. The members of his family in the village at that time were two uncles, their wives and two children (Prasad and Pooja, aged 12 and 15). Sagar's ancestral home is old, over 50 years, and has five rooms, all with uneven mud floors and no separating doors. None of the village houses we visited had any furniture (people sleep on mats on the floor) and all cooking is done over an open fire in the kitchen (gas is too expensive). There is electricity, the notable modern features are a television and mobile phones, but on the whole the house could be from a past century. None of Sagar's family speak any English so our (limited) Hindi did come in handy. They cooked fresh and tasty vegetarian food for us throughout our stay and could not have been more welcoming.
On Saturday morning, Sagar insisted that we should have hot water for a wash, which involved heating a pot of water over an open fire! It was fun but I'm glad that we don't have to do that every morning...
After breakfast, we visited the nearby town of Aundh including a temple of top of a tall hill with spectacular views and a charming museum documenting the history of the area (complete with a western section including a print of the Mona Lisa). The 5 rupee foreigner entrance fee confirmed that we were truly off the tourist track. We were accompanied by the two Sagars and Sagar's impish cousin Prasad and had several stops on route to see the village well, some impressive trees and Sagar's friends working in the fields.
We then visited a cattle market in Aundh which was fascinating. A good ox seems to sell for between 20,000 and 30,000 rupees and many had been daubed in various bright colours to make them more attractive! We were to meet Sagar's uncle (Prasad's father) who was trying to sell one ox and buy another, but had unfortunately not been successful. After some cattle browsing, and confirming that we would not be able to fit one in the car, we settled at a nearby food area for jalabi (deep fried batter swirled soaked in syrup, very tasty, not so healthy) and bhel (crispy snacks) for a light lunch.
We visited the fort at Bhushangad on the way back to the village, a steep hill with a temple and fort on the top where Shivaji (Maharashtrian hero) was thought to had lived for a while. Again, the views of the surrounding countryside were amazing. I think I would have been more interested in crop irrigation techniques in my Year 9 geography class had I seen this live at the time.
I returned home for a snooze whilst Phil went out to get a village haircut (30p but he left a 20p tip) and played cricket with the locals, where he was pleased to get a respectable score before been caught out (village rules allow one bounce before a catch, much to Phil's disappointment).
Before dinner, we visited Sagar's second family home in the village to meet his grandfather and admire the various family cattle. We watched Sagar's aunt milk the family buffalo, which was then boiled and served to us fresh. It is very rich and creamy. Once our presence was known, every house in the village wanted to invite us in and give us milk which was very kind, although there's only so much fresh buffalo milk that one can take! After a simple meal of dal and pooranpooli (tasty sweet bread) at the family home, we retired to our room for an early night.
Sunday 26 January is an important day in India; Republic Day, where I understand the aim is basically to celebrate all things Indian. The village had various flag raising and national anthem ceremonies (Indian's are very proud of their country) and the children of the village participated in a parade through the village.
Rather embarrassingly, given that we were the only non-Indians in the village and, worse, British, we were asked to raise a flag to mark Republic Day. We were treated as honoured guests which was very touching, and it was great fun watching the celebrations, even if we felt a bit daft not knowing the words to the national anthem (although we managed the customary salute pose). Sweets were given out to children (Sagar marched us to the shop to make sure we had lots of bags ready) and we visited the primary school where the parade had gathered. Phil was asked to make an impromptu speech which he did well, albeit very few people had any idea what he was saying in English.
After the parade (and another yummy breakfast), we visited the secondary school in the village, which accommodates children aged between 10 and 16. This was excellent and we visited every classroom where the students were waiting for us. Our visit was clearly a great novelty and I was impressed with the teacher, who was positive yet articulated the challenges of getting children to attend school regularly in a rural area. Whilst the children were dressed smartly. there were no books or obvious resources, other than blackboards. The children did not appear to have anything to write with or on. Infact, I didn't see pens, paper or books anywhere during our visit to the village.
The difference in status for men and women in society is stark. First, women are far less visible on the streets in the village. In the Republic Day celebrations, the attendees were children and men, I was the only women with the exception of a few school teachers in the school parade. In the school, the gender balance was fairly even up until the final class at school (10, aged 15 and 16) and yet the girls in the village are expected to be married at 18, and Sagar said that being unmarried at 21 would be considered old. It reminded me of a Jane Austen novel, Indian style! All the women I met were charming, welcoming and happy (from what I could see) but I find the lack of opportunity to change their position in life difficult and unfamiliar.
To finish our visit, we exchanged gifts with our hosts. We had bought lots of sweets and other edible goodies from Mumbai as well as some money in a decorated envelope (all prepared on the advice of my work colleagues). The gifts we received from Sagar's family were extremely generous and humbling. A pink sari for me, and a Gandhi cap with clothing material for Phil, along with two coconuts.
Sagar's one disappointment was that he was very keen for us to try freshly cooked chicken in the village, but this would have involved us staying until Sunday afternoon and hence driving back to Mumbai in the dark and getting back in the early hours of Monday morning, so I put my foot down! Sagar loves chicken so I suspect that this plan was driven at least slightly by this factor. Chicken or no chicken, the village was a truly memorable experience and one which we are privileged to have enjoyed.
We know that Bombay is not the "real India" and that we would need to travel into the countryside to see how most Indians really live. This is not a typical tourist experience and we were very lucky to have the opportunity to see authentic rural life when Sagar invited us to stay at his family's ancestral home in a small village called Shenwadi, 350km south-east of Bombay. Sagar's grandfather and various members of his extended family are based there and he speaks of the village often, visiting whenever he can.
Sagar was excited by our enthusiasm to see his home and put an impressive itinerary together for the weekend. We set off early on Friday morning and first drove up to Sagar's home in Airoli, a northern suburb of Mumbai, for (a second) breakfast and chai and to meet Sagar's mother. We were welcomed into his home (a single room for his family, as is common in Mumbai) and met Sagar's friend Sagar (easy to remember), who would be joining us on the journey to the village.
The journey was long but we travelled via Mahabaleshwar, a hill station 250km from Mumbai. The geography around Mahabaleshwar is impressive; the hill station is set on a wide plateau 1500m above sea level and the views from the road on the ascent and from the hill station itself are incredible. Mahabaleshwar is famous for strawberries and honey; there are farm shops and strawberry sellers everywhere, and it has many amazing look-out spots named after intrepid Victorian travellers. We couldn't spend too long in the town, just long enough to enjoy a Gujarati thali for a late lunch, before setting off for Sagar's village, Shenwadi.
Horse riding on Table Point near Mahabaleshwar
View from the road curving down from the plateau
Monkeys in Mahabaleshwar. There's a very small baby hidden curled upon next to the monkey lying down
We spent two nights in the village. This was a huge eye-opener in terms of seeing a way of life which is so entirely different to our own. Simply, the way of life in the village has changed very little for hundreds if not thousands of years, with deeply entrenched culture and tradition dictating the way of life.
We stayed in a small house outside the village which belongs to a relation of Sagar. Compared with the other houses we visited, this was the height of luxury. It had a bed (of sorts, we took our own bedding), proper stone flours and an outdoor wash room and squat toilet. We were slightly perturbed when another family seemed to be living there when we arrived but it seemed that they were supposed to be in the room next door and were quite happy to move out. We felt very guilty but Sagar didn't seem at all bothered! The kind mother whose room we had invaded spent the next two days making chai and offering to boil hot water for us!
We ate with Sagar's family during our stay. The members of his family in the village at that time were two uncles, their wives and two children (Prasad and Pooja, aged 12 and 15). Sagar's ancestral home is old, over 50 years, and has five rooms, all with uneven mud floors and no separating doors. None of the village houses we visited had any furniture (people sleep on mats on the floor) and all cooking is done over an open fire in the kitchen (gas is too expensive). There is electricity, the notable modern features are a television and mobile phones, but on the whole the house could be from a past century. None of Sagar's family speak any English so our (limited) Hindi did come in handy. They cooked fresh and tasty vegetarian food for us throughout our stay and could not have been more welcoming.
Upon arrival at Sagar's ancestral home. There is no furniture - we sat on mats on the floor
Dinner on the evening we arrived. The fresh sweet curd (closest to the camera) was a particular highlight
Chilli press - a family business - and Prasad
Joining in with the food preparation, all cooked over an open fire
On Saturday morning, Sagar insisted that we should have hot water for a wash, which involved heating a pot of water over an open fire! It was fun but I'm glad that we don't have to do that every morning...
Our home for the weekend (through the door on the right)
Heating up water for washing
A village scene
Bapu enjoying his breakfast
House water storage
Outside the front door to the house
After breakfast, we visited the nearby town of Aundh including a temple of top of a tall hill with spectacular views and a charming museum documenting the history of the area (complete with a western section including a print of the Mona Lisa). The 5 rupee foreigner entrance fee confirmed that we were truly off the tourist track. We were accompanied by the two Sagars and Sagar's impish cousin Prasad and had several stops on route to see the village well, some impressive trees and Sagar's friends working in the fields.
Irrigation by hand
On the way to Aundh (we're standing on a large log next to some impressive trees)
The hilltop temple
With the two Sagars on the walls enclosing the temple
Prasad
The two Sagars
The history of Aundh museum
Aundh museum
We then visited a cattle market in Aundh which was fascinating. A good ox seems to sell for between 20,000 and 30,000 rupees and many had been daubed in various bright colours to make them more attractive! We were to meet Sagar's uncle (Prasad's father) who was trying to sell one ox and buy another, but had unfortunately not been successful. After some cattle browsing, and confirming that we would not be able to fit one in the car, we settled at a nearby food area for jalabi (deep fried batter swirled soaked in syrup, very tasty, not so healthy) and bhel (crispy snacks) for a light lunch.
Aundh Cattle Market
Making jalebis
Lunch (all with an orange hue)
Pink cows - to attract attention
Cows with painted horns, again, they are considered to be more attractive this way
Sagar's uncle on his way home from the market
We visited the fort at Bhushangad on the way back to the village, a steep hill with a temple and fort on the top where Shivaji (Maharashtrian hero) was thought to had lived for a while. Again, the views of the surrounding countryside were amazing. I think I would have been more interested in crop irrigation techniques in my Year 9 geography class had I seen this live at the time.
View of the fort from the road
Philip at the top of the fort
I returned home for a snooze whilst Phil went out to get a village haircut (30p but he left a 20p tip) and played cricket with the locals, where he was pleased to get a respectable score before been caught out (village rules allow one bounce before a catch, much to Phil's disappointment).
Haircut, village style
Hitting a four (so I'm told)
Before dinner, we visited Sagar's second family home in the village to meet his grandfather and admire the various family cattle. We watched Sagar's aunt milk the family buffalo, which was then boiled and served to us fresh. It is very rich and creamy. Once our presence was known, every house in the village wanted to invite us in and give us milk which was very kind, although there's only so much fresh buffalo milk that one can take! After a simple meal of dal and pooranpooli (tasty sweet bread) at the family home, we retired to our room for an early night.
Milking the buffalo (we didn't try it)
With a cheerful local family
Sunday 26 January is an important day in India; Republic Day, where I understand the aim is basically to celebrate all things Indian. The village had various flag raising and national anthem ceremonies (Indian's are very proud of their country) and the children of the village participated in a parade through the village.
Rather embarrassingly, given that we were the only non-Indians in the village and, worse, British, we were asked to raise a flag to mark Republic Day. We were treated as honoured guests which was very touching, and it was great fun watching the celebrations, even if we felt a bit daft not knowing the words to the national anthem (although we managed the customary salute pose). Sweets were given out to children (Sagar marched us to the shop to make sure we had lots of bags ready) and we visited the primary school where the parade had gathered. Phil was asked to make an impromptu speech which he did well, albeit very few people had any idea what he was saying in English.
A decoration in the street
Lining up for drills in the local primary school
On the wall of the primary school
Mysterious coconut bashing ceremony before the flag was raised
Raising the flag which unfortunately got stuck. A man climbed quickly onto the roof of a nearby building to sort it out
After the parade (and another yummy breakfast), we visited the secondary school in the village, which accommodates children aged between 10 and 16. This was excellent and we visited every classroom where the students were waiting for us. Our visit was clearly a great novelty and I was impressed with the teacher, who was positive yet articulated the challenges of getting children to attend school regularly in a rural area. Whilst the children were dressed smartly. there were no books or obvious resources, other than blackboards. The children did not appear to have anything to write with or on. Infact, I didn't see pens, paper or books anywhere during our visit to the village.
The local secondary school. There are six year groups and one classroom for each. Classes are taught in Marathi
With the school teachers
This sign apparently emphasises the importance of attending school and not skipping classes!
The difference in status for men and women in society is stark. First, women are far less visible on the streets in the village. In the Republic Day celebrations, the attendees were children and men, I was the only women with the exception of a few school teachers in the school parade. In the school, the gender balance was fairly even up until the final class at school (10, aged 15 and 16) and yet the girls in the village are expected to be married at 18, and Sagar said that being unmarried at 21 would be considered old. It reminded me of a Jane Austen novel, Indian style! All the women I met were charming, welcoming and happy (from what I could see) but I find the lack of opportunity to change their position in life difficult and unfamiliar.
To finish our visit, we exchanged gifts with our hosts. We had bought lots of sweets and other edible goodies from Mumbai as well as some money in a decorated envelope (all prepared on the advice of my work colleagues). The gifts we received from Sagar's family were extremely generous and humbling. A pink sari for me, and a Gandhi cap with clothing material for Phil, along with two coconuts.
Exchanging gifts before leaving the village
Sagar's one disappointment was that he was very keen for us to try freshly cooked chicken in the village, but this would have involved us staying until Sunday afternoon and hence driving back to Mumbai in the dark and getting back in the early hours of Monday morning, so I put my foot down! Sagar loves chicken so I suspect that this plan was driven at least slightly by this factor. Chicken or no chicken, the village was a truly memorable experience and one which we are privileged to have enjoyed.
