Bhiklya Ladkya Dhinda

Siddhita Sonavane

Photos and Video

Medha Kale

English Translation

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Our Warli (also spelt as Varli) people get the
wind inside their body when I play tarpa. For an hour,
their bodies move [are possessed] just like a tree that moves with the wind. 

When I play, I call upon Savari Devi and her
companions. And my people get possessed by the one who responds.

It is all about faith. ‘Maanal tyaacha dev,
naahi tyaacha naahi [A believer has a god, an atheist has none]&#39;. For me,
my tarpa is my deity. So, I join my hands and worship it. 

Navshya, my great grandfather, played the tarpa.

His son, Dhaklya. He played it.

Dhaklya’s son Ladkya. He too played it.

Ladkya was my father.

It was British rule. We had not attained
freedom. In our village, Walwande, there was only one school for children of
‘big’ [upper caste] people.  No school for the poor. I was 10-12 years old
at the time. I tended the cattle. My parents thought ‘gayimage gela tar
roti milal. Shalet gela tar upashi rahal [if I tended the cattle I would
get to eat. If I went to school, I would go hungry].’ My mother had seven
children to care for. 

My father would say, ‘You have nothing to do
when cattle are grazing. Why don’t you play tarpa? It helps your body
[and health] and it also entertains you.’ Because of the sound no insects will
come near the cattle.

I started playing it when I was in the forests
and grazing grounds. People would complain, ‘for the entire day, Dhindya’s son
was making noise – kyav kyav.’ My father said one day, ‘Till I am alive,
I will make the tarpa for you. Once I am gone, who will?’ So, I learnt
the art.

You need three things to make a tarpa.
Leaves of the maad [palm toddy] tree to make the ‘sound’ [resonant horn
chamber]. Two pieces of bamboo [cane], one for the female and one for male. The
male has another small piece to tap and keep rhythm. The third thing that you
need is dudhi [bottle gourd] for wind chest. When I blow into the blow
hole the male and female unite and create the most attractive sound.

Tarpa is just like a family. There is a male
and a female. When I blow some air, they unite and the sound that you get is
magical. Like a stone, it is lifeless. But with my breath it comes alive and
produces a sound, a musical note. It requires a chest full of air. One has to
blow in the instrument and also make sure that your body has enough air to
breathe.

It is the wisdom from god that we can make such an
instrument. It belongs to the god.

My parents and old people told us many
stories. If I share those today, people call me names. But these were told to
us by our ancestors. 

The gods left after the creation of brahmand
[universe]. Where did the Warlis come from then?

From Kandram Dehlya.

The gods kept some curd for Kandram Dehlya
with his mother. He ate the curd but also ate the buffalo. His mother got angry
and threw him out of the house.

Our ancestors tell us how the first Warli, Kandram
Dehlya reached here.

This verse is a play of words rhyming with the
village and hamlet names in Jawhar block of Palghar district.

Like Warlis, many communities have lived here.
Rajkoli, Kokna, Katkari, Thakur, Mahar, Chambhar…I remember I worked at maharaja’s
[king of Jawhar’s] darbar [court]. He ate on karval leaves along
with all the people who ate in his darbar. I worked there and threw away
the used leaves. All communities gathered there and ate in one row. No one was
treated less than the other. I learnt it there and began having water at the
hands of a Katkari or a Musalman. Rajkolis do not accept water touched by Warlis.
Our people do not drink water touched by Katkari or a Chambhar or a Dhor Koli.
They still do not. But I never believed in such discrimination. 

See, anyone who worships Hirva dev and tarpa
is a Warli Adivasi.

We celebrate the festivals together. When new
rice is harvested, we share it with the family, with the neighbours and take it
first to the Gaondevi, our village deity. Only after offering her the
first morsel, we eat it. You might think of this as andha-shraddha
[blind faith]. But it is not that. It is our shraddha, our faith.

With the new harvest, we visit the temple of Gaondevi,
our local deity. Why did we construct a temple for her and bring her here? We
pray to her, ‘keep our children, relatives, cattle and labour, hale and hearty.
Let our fields and orchards flourish. Those who are in jobs, let them see
success. Let our families and our lives see good days.’ We Adivasis visit the
temple and pray to our deity, take her name and say our wishes.

Tarpa plays an important role in our
lives. 

On Waghbaras, we celebrate Savari
Devi’s festival. You know her as Shabari, one who gave lord Ram the half-eaten
berries. We have a different story. Savari Devi was waiting for Ram in the
forest. He came there with Sita. Savari met him and told him that she had been
waiting for him forever and now that she has seen him, she has nothing else to
live for. She took out her jeevda [heart] and kept it in his hands and
went off, never to return. 

To celebrate her love and dedication, we take the tarpa
to the hills and forests. There, in the forest live many deities. Tangda
Savari, Gohra Savari, Popta Savari, Tumba Savari and Ghunga
Savari. All of them are Savari Devi’s friends. They are deities of nature.
They exist. Even now, they do. We started worshipping them. I play tarpa
and invite them to the celebration. The way we call someone by name, I play
different tunes for each of the savaris. The tunes change for each one
of them.

It was 2022. I was on the stage with Adivasis
from all over: Nandurbar, Dhule, Baroda… The people sitting there in front asked
me to prove that I was an Adivasi. 

I told them that the first person who landed
on this earth and tested its soil was an Adivasi, and that human being was my
ancestor. I said, our culture is the sound we create with our breath. What we
play with our hands is what you see in the painting. The painting came later.
The breath and the music are eternal. The sounds have been here since the
origin of the universe.

I ended by saying that this tarpa represents
a couple, the male supports the female and the female supports the male. Tarpa
works just like that. A breath unites them and creates the most magical sound. 

My answer got me the first spot. I got my state the
first rank! With folded hands, I used to tell my tarpa,
‘Dear god, I serve you, I worship you. Now in return you should also look after
me. I want to fly. Put me on an aeroplane.’ And, believe it or not, my tarpa
took me on a flight. Bhiklya Ladkya Dhinda travelled in an aeroplane. I
visited so many places. I went to Alandi, Jejuri, Baramati, Sanya (Shani)
Shinganapur… I travelled far and wide. No one from here has been to Panjim, the
capital of ‘Goma’ [Goa]. But I went there. I have got one certificate from there.

I have many things to share but I don’t. I am
89 years old and there are so many stories. But I never tell them. I have kept
them in my heart. Many reporters and journalists come and write down my story.
They publish books and tell the world that they have made me famous. Many
musicians come and try and steal my music. So, I don’t meet everyone. You are
fortunate to have met me. 

I got the Sangit Natak Akademi award. The
function was in Delhi. When I received the award, my eyes welled up. My father
never sent me to school. He thought I may or may not get a job with that
education. But he told me that ‘this instrument is our deity.’ It is indeed a
deity. It gave me everything. It taught me humanity. People know my name world
over. My tarpa is printed on a post envelope [a postal stamp]. If you
press a button in my name on your phone, you will see my video. What more do you
want? A frog in a well does not know what is outside that hole. But I stepped
out of that well. I saw the world.

Today’s youngsters don’t dance to tarpa tunes.
They get the DJ. Let them. But tell me one thing, when we get our harvest from
the field, when we take the offering of new rice to the gaondevi, when
we take her name and pray to her, will we play the DJ? In those moments it is
just the tarpa, nothing else.

PARI would like to thank Madhuri Mukane from AROEHAN for her help with this documentation.Interview, transcription and English Translation: Medha Kale Photographs and Video: Siddhita SonavaneThis story is part of PARI&#39;s Endangered Languages Project which aims to document vulnerable and endangered languages of the country.Warli is an Indo-aryan language spoken by the Warli or Varli Adivasis in India residing in Gujarat, Daman &amp; Diu, Dadra &amp; Nagar Haveli, Maharashtra, Karnataka and Goa. <a href="https://en.wal.unesco.org/countries/india/languages/varli">UNESCO&#39;s</a> Atlas of languages has listed Varli as one of the potentially vulnerable languages in India.We aim to document the Warli language as spoken in Maharashtra.

‘My tarpa is my deity’

’میرا تارپا میرا دیوتا ہے‘

‘నా తర్పాయే నా దైవం’

‘என் தர்பாதான் என் தெய்வம்’

'ਮੇਰਾ ਤਾਰਪਾ ਹੀ ਮੇਰਾ ਸਭ ਕੁਝ ਹੈ'

‘ମୋ ତାରପା ହେଉଛି ମୋ ଦେବତା’

തർപ്പയാണ് എന്റെ ദൈവം

'ನನ್ನ ಟಾಡ್ಪಾ ನನ್ನ ದೇವರು'

‘मेरा तारपा मेरा देवता है’

મારા તારપા તે મારા દેવ

‘मोर तारपा, मोर देंवता आय’

‘हमार तारपा हमार देवता बाड़न’

‘আমার তারপা-ই আমার দেওতা’

‘টাৰ্পাখনেই মোৰ ইশ্বৰ’

‘माझा तारपा हीच माझी देवता’

Palghar

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‘My tarpa is my deity’

Bhiklya Ladkya Dhinda is a Warli Adivasi. The 89-year-old musician lives in Walwande and plays the tarpa, a traditional wind instrument made from bamboo and dried bottle gourd. Listen to the story of his music and faith, as told by him

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