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Journalism of Courage
Take a turn off Dive ghat, about 100 kilometres from Pune, and the road opens into a burst of green hilltops and open plains. Against the early evening sun, clusters of sheep graze languidly. This is Lakdewadi colony, one of over 500 such shepherd hamlets that stretch along the curvy span of road between Saswad and Phaltan near Pune.
Lakdewadi has over 15 houses of shepherd families, and each tends to 40 to 50 sheep. This is the season after the rains8212;when the shepherds migrate in search of grass for their sheep8212;and it8217;s time for them to move out of Lakdewadi. The shepherds spend four months of the monsoon in Lakdewadi, their 8216;home8217;; the remaining eight months are spent travelling in search of grasslands.
8220;We have been in this business for generations. We sell sheep and wool for a living,8221; says Sakharam Lakde, another shepherd.
The shepherd colony of Lakdewadi and its adjoining hamlets have a culture that is unique to these parts. Their local god is called Biroba and once a year the villagers gather to bow to the deity. Women prepare a feast and the villagers sing and dance to traditional folk songs. Of late, however, there has been a significant drop in the number of shepherds attending the annual celebration. The reason, says Balu Pokle, former sarpanch of the village, is that younger shepherds are exposed to the outside world and are giving up their age-old profession to take up other jobs.
8220;Our forefathers were blissfully happy with what they did8212;following their sheep where they took them. But it8217;s different now. First of all, there is no land available for the sheep to graze. Almost all the plots by the roadside have been sold. Unfortunately, the owners of these plots are not farmers but businessmen from Mumbai and Pune. So now, we have to travel far in search of grasslands, to alien lands, and that is something our children don8217;t want to do,8221; says Pokle.
While travelling has never been an issue with these shepherds, what they are worried about is that established grazing routes are changing and the shepherds don8217;t have friendly farmers on these new routes. 8220;Farmers on the new routes don8217;t know us enough and do not want to take a chance by letting us halt at night. Also, with artificial fertilisers, they aren8217;t dependant on sheep dung for their fields, which simply means that they no longer need us,8221; he says.
Madhu Lakde, a 60-year-old shepherd, says they don8217;t make enough money out of wool. 8220;There was a time when wool was in demand. A kilo of wool would fetch us Rs 15 to 20. Today we don8217;t get more than Rs 10 a kg.8221;
So now, Lakdewadi is in passage8212;though very different from the traditional migration that took its shepherd families to faraway lands. While some of the shepherds are selling their sheep to buy tractors, a few educated youngsters want to take up other jobs. Ganesh Dadas has over 70 sheep but doesn8217;t want them any more. 8220;I have studied up to class 10 and have a job with L038;T. I now want to earn and learn on the side. I want to be a software professional,8221; says Kachare who will soon relocate to Pune, where he has been posted.
Dashrath Kachare, who is training to become a teacher, says, 8220;The world is changing fast and if we don8217;t keep pace, we will be left behind. I don8217;t see any future in wandering about with my sheep.8221;
Much like the shepherd in Paulo Coelho8217;s The Alchemist, the shepherds of Lakdewadi know it8217;s time to follow their dreams.
