South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies

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‘We are Kshatriyas but we behave like Vaishyas’:

Diet and Muscular Politics Among a Community of
Yadavs in North India

Lucia Michelutti

To cite this article: Lucia Michelutti (2008) ‘We are Kshatriyas but we behave like Vaishyas’: Diet
and Muscular Politics Among a Community of Yadavs in North India, South Asia: Journal of South
Asian Studies, 31:1, 76-95, DOI: 10.1080/00856400701874726

To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/00856400701874726

Published online: 22 Jun 2010.

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South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies,
n.s., Vol.XXXI, no.1, April 2008

‘We are Kshatriyas but we behave like Vaishyas’:

Diet and Muscular Politics Among a Community
of Yadavs in North India

Lucia Michelutti

London School of Economics and Political Science

Abstract
Using the political ethnography of a powerful northern India caste (the Yadavs)
this article illustrates how vegetarian/non-vegetarian food and particular drinks
such as whisky and milk enter the nexus of caste and politics in a neighbourhood
of Mathura town, western Uttar Pradesh. Being vegetarian and worshipping
vegetarian deities are important aspects of the formation of an all-India Yadav
community. Yet, central to the Yadavs’ political culture is on the one hand their
claim to be Kshatriyas and to be natural democratic politicians, and on the other
their martial outlook and muscular political strategies. Drinking milk and
organising chicken and whisky picnics on the banks of the Yamuna River and
consuming meat and alcohol at political meetings are part of this macho/secular
political culture. The ethnography of Yadav food caste culture shows how ‘food’
defines different levels of the Yadav process of community formation and offers a
window to unravel the nature of political force in contemporary India.

Introduction
This article looks at how eating and drinking habits come to embody ideas about
the relation between identity, ritual rank and ‘the political’ among a community
of Yadavs in Mathura town, Western Uttar Pradesh. The Yadavs used to be a
low- to middle-ranking agricultural-pastoral caste cluster. By the end of the
nineteenth century North India’s Yadav social and political leaders began to
mobilise their caste brothers with the aim of creating a large and powerful all-
India Yadav community. At the core of the Yadav community lies a specific folk
theory according to which all Indian pastoral castes are descended from the Yadu

ISSN 0085-6401 print; 1479-0270 online/08/010076-20 Ó 2008 South Asian Studies Association of Australia
DOI: 10.1080/00856400701874726
 ‘WE ARE KSHATRIYAS BUT WE BEHAVE LIKE VAISHYAS’ 77

Dynasty (hence the label Yadav), the dynasty to which the god Krishna (a cow-
herder, and supposedly a Kshatriya) belonged. Thus, although the Yadavs are
divided into different subdivisions which have different ritual ranks (Yaduvanshi,
Goallavanshi, Nandavanshi, etc.), there is nonetheless a strong belief amongst
them that all Yadavs belong to Krishna’s line of descent, the Yadav subdivisions
of today being the outcome of the fission of an original and undifferentiated
group. In order to unite sub-castes with different ritual status, the All India Yadav
Mahasabha (AIYM, a caste association) promoted their transformation into pure
Krishnavanshi-Yadavs. Yadav ideologues attempted to nullify internal caste
hierarchies and cultural differences within the community by encouraging the
adoption of a vegetarian diet and teetotalism and the rejection of ‘evil customs’
such as blood sacrifice, spirit possession, female infanticide, child marriage and
widow remarriage. Similarly, the substitution of lineage/clan god cults by the cult
of Krishna was fostered. However, Yadav caste reformers did not exclusively
think of ‘social purity’ as an expression of higher rank. The adoption of pure
norms and values was also understood as necessary for the re-establishment of the
‘pure’ Yadav (Aryan) original essence and to create relatedness within a highly
heterogeneous community. By transforming all the Ahirs, Goallas and Gopas into
vegetarians and followers of a Sanskritic form of Hinduism, the purity–pollution
barriers and cultural differences existing within the community were supposedly
eradicated and thus inter-sub-caste marriages were rendered theoretically possible.
Therefore, the Yadav process of Sanskritisation (namely, the adoption of higher
forms of Hinduism) should be understood as complementary to the elaboration of
a powerful ethnic discourse. Contrary to other caste movements which chose
either the path of Sanskritisation or the path of ethnicisation, the Yadavs
simultaneously attempted to forge a community front and to uplift themselves in
the caste hierarchy. They did so by remodelling a primordial discourse centred on
Krishna. In this rhetoric Krishna becomes a kind of ‘ethnic’ unifying symbol, a
community deity and also a vehicle of Sanskritisation. In this way traditional
processes of upward mobility (i.e. Sanskritisation) are not disjoined from the
constitution of a separate collective identity and—as I will show—unfold from
political practices which imply the adoption of ‘non-Vaishya’ behaviours such as
the use of force, the consumption of ‘polluted’ substances such as meat and
alcohol and the sharing of food with lower castes and Muslims.

Local Yadavs describe themselves as a ‘caste of politicians’.1 Indeed a folk

understanding of democracy accompanied the process of ethnicisation of the
Yadav community. Yadav political rhetoric portrays ‘democracy’ as a

1
See L. Michelutti, ‘‘‘We (Yadavs) are a Caste of Politicians’’. Caste and Modern Politics in a North Indian
Town’, in Contributions to Indian Sociology, Vol.38, nos.1 – 2 (2004), pp.43 – 71.
78 SOUTH ASIA

primordial phenomenon passed in the blood from the democratic ancestor-god

Krishna to the contemporary Yadavs and describes the Yadavs’ political skills
as innate. ‘Democracy’ is understood as a vehicle of social justice and equality,
and the Yadavs and ‘their’ politicians as the natural carriers and promoters of
such noble principles. Ultimately, ‘democracy’ is depicted as an institution that
works for the Yadavs (and to some extent for the ‘backward communities’) and
as an arena in which the interests and demands of the underprivileged can be
successfully articulated.

The Yadavs have become a significant political force in Uttar Pradesh and
other northern states (like Bihar) only during the last 20 years. The story of
their political ascendancy is linked to the rise of the ‘Other Backward
Classes’ in North India politics. New political parties which obtain their
support from marginalised groups have been formed (such as the Samajwadi
Party and the Bahujan Samaj Party). Their main demand is social justice.
But in their political propaganda ‘democracy’ is often couched in narrow
terms relating to caste socio-economic upliftment. Unsurprisingly political
corruption and the empowerment of local strongmen have been coupled with
the rise of this populist democracy.2 In particular, Thomas Blom Hansen
shows in relation to Mumbai’s ‘dada culture’ how the deepening of
democracy in India has established a muscular class of local-level politicians
which does not rely on ‘traditional’ ideas of respectability and practices of
clientalism and patronage.3 Dada means literally grandfather (in Hindi)
but it is colloquially used to mean older brother and also to indicate
criminals. ‘Dadaism is a style of exercising political and social power and
protection and invokes the images of masculine, assertive and often violent
local strongmen, whose clout lies in self-made networks of loyalty rather
than in institutionalised action and discourse’.4 In Mathura the same
concept and political style are popularly known under the name of
‘goondaism’. People generally refer to local and regional Yadav politicians
as ‘goondas’.5

The most significant of the regional political leaders of the Yadavs and of
the backward communities in general are Mulayam Singh Yadav in Uttar
Pradesh and Laloo Prasad Yadav in Bihar. Mulayam Singh Yadav is a

2
P. Bhardan, The Political Economy of Development in India (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1998), p.133.
3
T.B. Hansen, Wages of Violence. Naming and Identity in Postcolonial Bombay (Princeton and Oxford:
Princeton University Press, 2001).
4
Ibid., p.72.
5
I describe more extensively Yadav muscular culture and politics in L. Michelutti, The Vernacularisation of
Democracy. Politics, Caste and Religion in India (Delhi and London: Routledge, 2008), Chap.6.
 ‘WE ARE KSHATRIYAS BUT WE BEHAVE LIKE VAISHYAS’ 79

wrestler-turned-politician. He is currently the Chief Minister of Uttar

Pradesh and the president of the Samajwadi Party. The Samajwadi Party
is the largest single party in Uttar Pradesh and is considered the party of the
Yadavs. It is also frequently labelled a goonda party. ‘The common man’
and the ‘ordinary people’ are the target of the Samajwadi Party’s rhetoric,
and they are mobilised on caste lines. The party draws its vote from two
principal social categories: Muslims and backward communities. Laloo
Prasad Yadav, currently Minister of Railways in the national cabinet, is one
of the most colourful of India’s politicians. He has been for the past decade
the unofficial raj (king) of Bihar. He is well known for his corruption and
for allegedly patronising criminals. Mulayam Singh Yadav and Laloo Prasad
Yadav have become key figures on the contemporary political scene. They
are either perceived as heroes, as modern Robin Hoods who steal from the
rich to help the poor, or as goondas who exploit state resources for personal
benefit. In either case, their political role has been of immense symbolic
importance for the whole of Indian society and for the Yadav community in
particular.

Mathura’s Yadavs: ‘A Caste of Politicians’

Mathura lies in the Braj area which is well known as the place where Krishna
was born and where he grew up. Yadavs inhabit three neighbourhoods in
Mathura: Sathgara; Anta Para; and Ahir Para. My research focused on the
neighbourhood of Ahir Para. Ahir Para is part of Sadar Bazaar which lies on
the outskirts of the old part of Mathura. Today, local Yadavs say that their
population in Sadar Bazaar is about 4,000. Within Sadar Bazaar the Yadav and
Muslim communities are numerically the strongest. They are followed by
Malis, Banias, Dhobis, Brahmins and Jatavs. Sadar Bazaar’s varied social
composition is related to the history of the Cantonment station on whose
outskirts it developed over the last two hundred years. The story that I am
going to tell in this article mainly involves three local communities: the Banias;
the Muslims; and the Yadavs.

The Banias are traditionally a merchant community. Even today, most of them
(86 percent) are involved in business. They are one of the richest communities
in Sadar Bazaar, and both their men and women are well-educated. They now
also have shops in the Holi Gate market in the centre of town. In Sadar Bazaar
there are 250 Bania (Agrawal) households, mostly located on Bazaar Street.
The Bania residential area revolves around Sadar Bazaar Street and the
Hanuman temple, where both they and the local Brahmin community usually
go for puja. The local Bania-Agrawals have their own caste association which is
80 SOUTH ASIA

very active, and in particular facilitates marriage arrangements at the regional

level.

A large part of Sadar Bazaar is also inhabited by Muslims, who live in Chota
Kasai Para, Bara Kasai Para, Zaharkana, and Mewati mohallas. They belong
to different castes. Traditionally, they used to be butchers and sold meat. The
Bara Kasais used to sell cow and buffalo meat, and the Chota Kasais mainly
goat and chicken meat. In the last fifty years, local Bara Kasais have begun to
call themselves Qureshi and to adopt pure Islamic practices through the
influence of ‘Tablighi Jamat’. The Qureshi movement is a large one. According
to the vice-president of the All-India Jamiat-Ul-Quresh, who resides in
Mathura, there are sixty-five million Kasais in India and forty million in
Uttar Pradesh. In Sadar Bazaar, local Muslims are mainly involved in small
business or they are tailors, mechanics and rickshaw pullers. The last abattoir
in Bara Kasai was closed fifteen years ago for reasons of hygiene.6 A small
number of local Kasai/Qureshis are still involved in the cattle and buffalo trade.
Thus in the past and to some extent in the present, the interaction between the
Ahir/Yadavs and the Kasai/Qureshis was (and is) based on business, with the
selling and buying of cows and buffaloes. However, the cow is not only a
commercial link connecting the two communities; it is also the symbol that
draws the line between them. I was often told: ‘Muslims eat cows and Yadavs
worship them’. With this statement the separation between the two commu-
nities was asserted. No Yadav would ever sell an old or ill cow to a Kasai/
Qureshi and this is because they believe that Kasai/Qureshis would slaughter
and eat it. Historically cow protection movements have significantly shaped the
formation of the Yadav community in northern India. Gyanendra Pandey
describes how, since the end of the nineteenth century, the protection of the
cow was central to the Ahir/Yadav movement in the Bhojpuri area.7 As a
matter of fact, the cow protection issue is still a lively one in Mathura town.
However at the local political level it is downplayed to consolidate the Yadav –
Muslim alliance which supports the Samajwadi party.

I now turn to the largest community of Sadar Bazaar, the Yadavs. It is worth
noticing that within Mathura, Sadar Bazaar is now considered a Yadav ‘small

6
Mathura town is also under the Cow Protection Act. In December 2001 UP state’s Cow Protection
Commission totally banned cow slaughter in the state and reinforced the Prevention Act of 1975 by making
the killing of a cow a criminal act. Local Kasai/Qureshis have not slaughtered buffaloes and goats for more
than thirty years now.
7
G. Pandey, ‘Rallying Around the Cow: Sectarian Strife in the Bhojpuri Region, 1888 – 1917’, in Ranajit
Guha (ed.), Subaltern Studies: Writings on South Asian History and Society (Delhi: Oxford University Press,
1983), pp.60 – 129.
 ‘WE ARE KSHATRIYAS BUT WE BEHAVE LIKE VAISHYAS’ 81

town’ and the presence of other communities is often played down. Sadar
Bazaar/Ahir Para Yadavs traditionally belong to the Nandavanshi-Ahir
subdivision. During British times, they migrated to Mathura from the
neighbouring districts of Mainpuri, Etah, Farrukhabad and Kannauj. At the
time, Mathura was an important army training centre for Ahir soldiers. In
addition, they were employed as bullock-cart and/or truck drivers. However,
military service was not the only source of employment and income offered by
the army structure. The civil and military population of the Cantonment
demanded regular milk supplies. Consequently, Ahirs and Goallas from
nearby districts migrated to Mathura and began to work in large numbers for
the Cantonment dairy, or set up their own milk businesses. After
Independence, the shift of an important battalion caused a sudden fall in
local demand for milk supplies. This together with the lack of grazing land,
the reinforcement of rules implemented to regulate the commerce of milk, and
the establishment of a public dairy, brought about important socio-economic
changes in Ahir Para. Several milk vendors began to use the surplus milk to
make sweets and set up halwai shops (sweet shops). They then began to invest
their profits in other types of businesses such as transportation and small-
scale construction. This economic transformation followed a recurrent
pattern: a shift from cow-herding and milk-selling occupations to the
transportation business (from bullock-cart to motor vehicle) and then into
the construction business. A significant number of Yadavs in the Braj-
Ahirwal area are involved in the real estate and building sectors. Since the
1970s, when the Mathura Oil Refinery opened, a substantial number of Ahir
Para Yadavs have transported oil for the refinery on a contract basis. Those
Yadavs who did not go down this path sought jobs in the army and the
police, the other two traditional spheres of occupation for Ahir/Yadavs in
northern India. More recently, working for the government has become one
of the more esteemed avenues of employment, especially amongst the new
generations who benefit from caste reservation. In Ahir Para the number of
people involved in the milk business is not very high and has decreased with
the years. However parallel to these mainstream occupations there is also a
realm of illegal activities: extortion; ‘protection’; usury; and petty criminality.
And they are widespread, even if difficult to assess in a systematic way. The
Yadavs of Ahir Para are often described by outsiders as goondas. They are
commonly referred to as thugs who base their strength on muscle power.
Such comments, rumours and stereotypes say a lot about how Ahir Para
Yadavs are perceived in the collective imagination: they are numerous, strong,
united and aggressive towards others. Casteism (jativad) and violence are
the other two attributes with which they are generally credited. This
unsavoury reputation is further linked to the political involvement and
82 SOUTH ASIA

connections of a number of local Yadavs as fixers and brokers, and to their

muscular culture.

Ever since I first arrived in town, non-Yadav informants told me that doing
fieldwork among the Yadavs was dangerous and that I should have chosen
another caste for my study. In particular, non-Yadavs kept on telling me how
my reputation was in danger if I kept going around with ‘politicians’—
especially with the supporters of the Samajwadi Party, known locally as a
‘goonda party’. Even some members of the Yadav community advised me not
to live in Sadar Bazaar because it was a violent place and hence not suitable for
a lady. However, they also added that living in Sadar Bazaar had some positive
practical aspects, i.e. uninterrupted electricity and water through the day, which
is something not to be underestimated when for three-quarters of the year
temperatures are above 358C. It turned out that these services were guaranteed
by the muscle-power and political connections of the local Yadavs. Indeed local
Yadavs are very politically active and well-connected. They also have a
monopoly on a range of illegal activities (usury, protection-rackets). Both these
realms of activities are maintained through violence or the threat of violence.

I will briefly illustrate the Yadav level of political involvement. For a start three
out of four ward representatives of the Ahir Para/Sadar Bazaar area belong to
the Yadav community. In almost all Ahir Para/Sadar Bazaar households, there
is at least one person involved, directly or indirectly, with local politics, or who
has relatives who are ward representatives, village representatives or MLAs or
MPs in nearby towns and villages. Most local Yadavs vote; they are members
of political parties; they actively participate during election campaigns; and
they love to talk about politics. Similarly, a very high proportion of local
Yadavs personally know someone in politics, and on a regular basis they
contact politicians in their constituency. Yadavs clearly have more political
connections than other communities in Sadar Bazaar. Yadav local politicians
act as fixers and brokers (dalal) for all the communities, not just for their caste
mates. I saw many high-caste people, who commonly refer to Yadavs
disapprovingly as goondas, nonetheless making use of their ‘services’. Their
connections, political influence and abilities are thus practically acknowledged.
By the end of my fieldwork the same non-Yadav informants who had advised
me not to go around with politicians were asking me to use my ‘Yadav
contacts’ to help them to get their telephone line sorted out, to get a taxi licence,
or to speed up a court case.

Usury and protection rackets are two of the main Yadav underworld activities.
Sadar Bazaar’s Banias (the traditional business community) commonly
 ‘WE ARE KSHATRIYAS BUT WE BEHAVE LIKE VAISHYAS’ 83

complained that they were not able to conduct their business anymore. They
were aggrieved that they had to pay ‘protection money’ to the Yadavs in order
to keep their shops open. In the last twenty years the Yadavs have become
Sadar Bazaar’s main money-lenders. Unlike the Banias, they lend money
without mortgage and thus can be more competitive in the market. They can
apply this policy because they have the means to make sure that their creditors
will pay them back. As B. Yadav (money-lender, 45 years) said: ‘Creditors
know that we do not have water in our guns’.

The research was set out as a study of local politics with a particular focus on
political rhetoric, political performances and local political leadership. I will
start with a Yadav political act I inadvertently assisted in: my arrival in
Mathura town. This was marked by the publication of numerous articles in the
local vernacular press announcing the coming of an Italian scholar from
England who was going to study and live with ‘the famous and valorous’
Yadav community.8 Later I came to know that within hours of my arrival in
Ahir Para/Sadar Bazaar, the local Yadav caste associations had sent a press
release to the local and regional newspapers. As a result, my first three days in
Mathura were characterised by a procession of Yadav visitors who came from
other localities of Mathura town and nearby villages to welcome me. After a
few weeks a picture of me entering Ahir Para/Sadar Bazaar appeared in various
local Yadav caste association magazines and newsletters. The picture shows a
local Yadav political leader offering me a glass of thandai (a milk drink with
almonds—like a milk shake) which was described as ‘Yadav food’ and the food
Krishna favoured when he was growing up. Drinking milk, I was told, is very
healthy and gives strength—and Yadavs have the best milk. The same evening I
was invited to have dinner with one of the leading parivars (families/factions) of
the neighbourhood. My new family enquired if I was vegetarian, and if I ate
eggs, and importantly did I like milk? I was served a vegetarian meal and lots of
milk products. Soon I was also lectured on how bad eating meat is and on the
curative properties of milk. I was told that a person in the neighbourhood was
recently cured of loss of sight by adopting a diet based only on milk. I was also
told that the Yadavs in Mathura were pure vegetarians like the Vaishyas. The
following night I was invited to a welcome dinner party by the local Samajwadi
Party leader. I had dinner in a separate room with the men from the Yadav and
Muslim communities and we had tandoori chicken and whisky. The person who
the night before had given me a lecture on vegetarianism was also present, and
noticing that I was a bit puzzled about the chicken and the whisky, he promptly
told me that they had chicken only on special occasions, and only among men,

8
See for example Aj (18 Aug. 1998), p.10.
84 SOUTH ASIA

adding that the Yadavs are Rajput by descent, and thus Kshatriyas.
Retrospectively I realised that during these two dinners my hosts had hinted
at themes that would be present in my research agenda for the rest of my
fieldwork: on the one hand the importance of Krishna the ancestor, the claim to
be Kshatriya/Rajput, and the mix of politics, milk, meat and whisky; and on
the other the stress on vegetarianism and on the worship of vegetarian deities.
Months later Sanjay Yadav (70 years old and a former cow-herder) resolved
these contradictions by saying: ‘We are Kshatriyas but we behave like
Vaishyas’.

‘We are Kshatriyas but we behave like Vaishyas’

The Yadavs of Ahir Para regard themselves almost unanimously as Kshatriyas;
mythological traditions, kinship organisation and ritual practices support this
claim and provide a culturally plausible account of their historical association
with the Rajputs. In particular their kuldevi/kuldevta cults provide a number of
examples which illustrate the close relation between the Ahir/Yadavs and the
local Jadon Rajputs. This religious and cultural link contrasts sharply with the
Vaishya-like religious behaviour found among a large section of Mathura
Yadavs. Rajputs are generally ‘meat-eaters’. Furthermore, as Babb points out,
‘the very symbolism of sacrifice itself is central to the notion of who Rajputs
are’.9 Rajputs are represented as ‘. . . those who offer themselves on the
battlefield as the goddess’s sacrificial victims’.10

Conversely, animal sacrifice is locally assimilated by the Yadav/Kshatriyas to

‘low forms of Hinduism’ and to ‘low-caste’ customs. Modern Yadavs, being a
‘higher caste’ and, on top of that, Vaishnava, look upon animal sacrifice with
abhorrence. In order to understand the Yadavs’ claim to be ‘Kshatriyas who
behave like Vaishyas’, I wish to draw attention to a number of associations
which link the economic history of the Mathura Yadavs with the spread and
adoption of particular religious practices. I will start by illustrating what it
means to be Vaishya in Mathura and how it relates to the religious reformist
processes of the All India Yadav Mahasahba and its local branches as well as to
the economic history of the local Yadav community.

At the beginning of the twentieth century, the AIYM’s ideologues began to

push the issue of socio-religious reform. Yadav ideologues attempted to nullify

9
L. Babb, Absent Lord: Ascetics and Kings in a Jain Ritual Culture (Berkeley: University of California Press,
1996), p.159.
10
Ibid.
 ‘WE ARE KSHATRIYAS BUT WE BEHAVE LIKE VAISHYAS’ 85

internal caste hierarchies and cultural differences within the community by

encouraging the adoption of Sanskritic forms of Hinduism which basically meant
vegetarianism, teetotalism and the abandonment of blood sacrifice. This
phenomenon is of course not specifically ‘Yadav’. Indeed by the beginning of
the century in North India vegetarianism and ‘non-violence’ had come to be
considered as the dietary rule of the higher castes. ‘Non-violence’ and
‘vegetarianism’ began to be taken as indices of purity and superior status.
Conversely, violence (including sacrifice) and meat-eating tended to be associated
with impurity and low status. The Yadav religious reformist movement drew its
energy from the ideological repertoire of neo-reformist movements such as the
Arya Samaj, Vaishnava devotional movements and Hindu nationalism.11

The outcome of such reformist campaigns is at the bottom of contemporary

statements like ‘we behave like Vaishyas’. Such an assertion is in fact related to
the type of food and type of Hinduism Mathura Yadavs practise. In the last
fifty years, there has been a change in terms of what ordinary Yadavs eat, who
they worship, how they worship and who they believe to be their direct
ancestors/protectors. More specifically, in the last three generations local
Yadavs have adopted a pure vegetarian diet. Moreover there has been an
evident shift from the cult of ‘meat-eating’ deities to ‘vegetarian’ deities and
from lineage deities to caste/community deities. For instance, the worship of
local ‘male’ lineage deities (kuldevtas) has been gradually substituted by the cult
of Krishna. By the same token, the local ‘female’ kul deities (kuldevis) have been
tamed and transmuted into vegetarian vaishno devis, whose foundation myths
are now solidly linked with the mythology of Krishna and his companion
Radha. In other words, they have been transformed into ‘proper’ ancestors:
vegetarians like their worshippers (and descendants).

In addition, in more recent times the Yadavs have been trying to become
‘businessmen’ and ‘entrepreneurs’. Money-lending is another activity pre-
viously monopolised by the local Banias (the local Vaishya community) that is
now in the hands of the local Yadavs. In turn, the Yadavs’ local economic and
political upsurge has left its imprint on the local ritual complex. Over the last
fifty years the Yadavs of Ahir Para have gradually monopolised and begun to
patronise two temples that were previously controlled by the local Bania
community. By the same token, rich Yadavs now embrace Vaishnava sects such

11
On the relation between the Yadav caste movement and the Arya Samaj, see M.S.A. Rao, Social
Movements and Social Transformation. The Study of Two Backward Classes Movements in India (Delhi:
Macmillan, 1979); and on the links between Vaishnavism and Yadav caste mobilisation see W. Pinch,
Peasants and Monks in British India (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996).
86 SOUTH ASIA

as the Pusthi Marg and/or the Gaudiya Sampraday in the same fashion as
business communities did traditionally. They patronise the construction of new
Radha/Krishna temples, as well as the re-invention of new rituals. The fusion
between Vaishya-Kshatriya and pastoral themes can appear complex and
contradictory, but this is not the case in the eyes of Ahir Para Yadavs. They
have a mythological justification as well as local empirical evidence to tease out
such apparent ambiguity.

As a mythological foundation they generally provide the following story:

When Yadavs used to live in Gokul, Vrindavan and Braj, they

used to sell milk, curd, and butter. This was their business. They
were called ‘Gopalan’. Nanda and his colleagues were called
‘Gopas’ or ‘Vaishyas’. Even Krishna said in the Bhagavad Gita
(chapter 18, paragraph 44) that ‘farming, gopalan and business are
the jobs of the Vaishyas’. When the Gopas settled in Mathura and
began to govern the city they began to be called ‘Kshatriyas’ (Devi
Yadav, 55-year-old housewife).

Alternatively, they justify their Vaishya behaviour by drawing on a

mythological tale which describes how Yadu, the forefather of Krishna, had
two wives: one Kshatriya and the other Vaishya. From the Kshatriya branch
descended Vasudev, the father of Krishna, and from the Vaishya one Nanda,
the forefather of Krishna. The unambiguous coexistence of Kshatriya-Vaishya
themes is also locally teased out by empirical evidence, i.e. the Vaishya/royal
character of the local historically-dominant family of Mathura, the Seths. The
‘royal family’ of Mathura is a family of bankers. Most of the members were and
are followers of Pusthi Marg. This Kshatriya-Vaishya local model of royalty
was often presented to me as evidence of the existence and legitimacy of such a
fusion.

The Seth model certainly has had an impact on the way local Yadavs
conceptualise their being ‘Kshatriyas but behaving like Vaishyas’, without
seeing any apparent contradictions. Ahir Para is located very close to the
former mansion of the Seth family. In addition, the main ritual complex of the
local Yadavs, Mahadev Ghat, borders the Seth mansion. The Ahir/Yadavs
served the family historically, and a number of house managers belong to the
Ahir/Yadav community. Today, the Seth family have left Mathura and the
beautiful mansion on the bank of the Yamuna is abandoned. The present
Yadavs act informally as the guardians of the house and protectors of the Seth
family dwellings. But when in Mathura, Mr. Arjun Seth never fails to pay a
 ‘WE ARE KSHATRIYAS BUT WE BEHAVE LIKE VAISHYAS’ 87

visit to Mahadev Ghat and to give rich offerings to the temple. These acts are
interpreted as a sign of gratitude from the family for the guardian role played
by the Yadavs and for their role as clients in the past. On the basis of past
services, today’s Yadavs have permission to enter the Seth property and use the
water pumps for their daily bath.

In Mathura, the assumption that Krishna was born from the Kshatriya and
Vaishya varnas is widespread not only amongst Yadavs but also amongst their
Bania neighbours. Similarly, other ethnographies point out how, for the
Banias, Lord Krishna evolved from the Vaishya and Kshatriya varnas.12 Others
point out how the cultural identity of a number of trader communities is also
related to Rajput ancestry.13 Writing about the relationship between Rajputs
and Banias, Babb tells us that Khandeval Jains claim Rajput ancestry but have
rejected the Kshatriya lifestyle. Similarly, Pocock describes how the Patidars
have been shifting from a Kshatriya model to a Vaishya model of identity.14

Mathura’s Yadav example is both similar and different to those described in the
available literature. Mathura’s Yadavs not only claim Rajput origins in the
past, but also claim to be Kshatriyas in the present at the same time as rejecting
several aspects of the Kshatriya lifestyle by ‘behaving like Vaishyas’. It should
be emphasised that the Bania model offered in Mathura by the Seth family
presents Banias and the king as having equal status, and this assumption
nullifies contrasting and competing claims of status among the Yadavs. Logical
inconsistencies do not appear to trouble them.

The Yadavs emulate a syncretism of Kshatriya and Vaishya models which,

at the ideological level, is legitimised by the ill-defined nature of Krishna and, at
the empirical level, by the dual Vaishya-Kshatriya character of the traditional
rulers of Mathura. On the other hand, the adoption of vegetarianism and
abhorrence of animal sacrifice do not go hand-in-hand with non-violence. Babb
points out how central non-violence is to the cultural identity of the Banias—it
is more central, he insists, even than vegetarianism. According to Babb, this is
what differentiates the Banias from the Rajputs.15 However, although the
Yadavs of Mathura have adopted a vegetarian diet and transformed their
‘meat-eating’ deities into vegetarian ones, a warlike and violent mien remains

12
D. Gupta, Interrogating Caste (New Delhi: Penguin, 2000), p.126.
13
See for example L. Babb, ‘Mirrored Warriors: On the Cultural Identity of Rajasthan Traders’, in
International Journal of Hindu Studies, Vol.III, no.1 (1999), pp.1 – 25.
14
D. Pocock, Mind, Body and Wealth. A Study of Belief and Practice in an Indian Village (Oxford: Basil
Blackwell, 1973).
15
Ibid., p.17.
88 SOUTH ASIA

central to their identity. Bania informants endlessly drew to my attention

the violent behaviour of the local Yadavs; in keeping with this perception,
Yadav boys who put on weight, who do not enjoy wrestling, or have peaceful
and quiet personalities are teased by their companions with Bania nicknames.
This drew my attention to the fact that informants never said ‘We behave
like Banias’ for the good reason that they consider them ‘effeminate’, not able
to fight, and poor politicians. Thus, local Yadavs refer to the varna concept
rather than to the caste model provided locally. The Vaishya-varna concept
which scripturally encompasses herdsmen and cow-herders allowed my
informants to adopt a number of dimensions of the Vaishya repertoire while
excluding others.

Wrestling with (Body) Politics: Milk, Meat and Whisky

I will now illustrate how local Yadavs construct a goonda reputation; how they
relate their political activities to their being Kshatriyas; and finally how milk
and chicken-whisky picnics enter the equation and shape Yadav macho-
political culture. In Sadar Bazaar, the local akhara (wrestling complex) is the
place where local Yadavs produce and cultivate their sense of community, their
fighting spirit and their goonda reputation. The akhara lies on the bank of the
sacred Yamuna River. The religious complex comprises a wrestling area and a
number of shrines which lie in a forest-like landscape. The main shrines are
dedicated to Shiva, Hanuman and Krishna. Indeed the morphology of this
religious landscape, the position of the trees, of the wrestling arena, and of the
lingam of Shiva are said to have been designed by Krishna himself. Small
alcoves are dedicated to Kali and to Jahavir Baba (Gogaji), a Rajput (Ahir)
hero-god. Adal and Udal, the two protagonists of a well-known martial oral
epic (the Alha) are said to wrestle on the akhara pitch during summer nights.

Here men from different generations come and meet up. Together as a group
they often complained about ‘the aggressiveness’ of their women and their
dominant role in the household. The akhara is often ironically described as a
place where men can escape their women’s complaints. During the day the
oldest come to exercise, to sunbathe and to take bhang (an intoxicating
beverage made from cannabis leaves), or laddu (small balls made with cannabis
leaves and flour). By five o’clock the youngest begin to arrive. They exercise,
have a bath, do puja and then stop to chat till late.

Mainly men visit the complex. Women do not go to the temple because they say
‘it is an akhara’ where men are always ‘indecent’ (i.e. more-or-less naked).
Indeed, the absence of women is determined by the public and ‘political’
 ‘WE ARE KSHATRIYAS BUT WE BEHAVE LIKE VAISHYAS’ 89

character of the place. Women are not part of the public political life of the
Sadar Bazaar/Ahir Para locality. However in the private sphere they actively
support their men’s ethos of honour and virility which informs a great deal of
Yadav political discourse. Yadav women appreciate tough and strong men and
they raise their male children to be the same. They often stressed to me that it is
because of the way they feed their sons that they are so strong, tall and
beautiful. Emphasis is placed on milk products and especially on cows’ milk.
Yadav women do not work outside the house. However within the house one of
their main duties and ‘privileges’ is to take care of the cows which provide the
milk (dudh) and clarified butter (ghi) for the daily family diet. Milk and butter
are primarily meant for male consumption. Drinking milk is part of Yadav
‘macho’ culture.

The local akhara is not only the place where ‘politics’ is usually discussed but
also where local Yadavs build up their image of men of strength. Local Yadavs
are generally extremely body conscious and exercise regularly. Although only a
few of them are proper wrestlers (i.e. earn their living from wrestling
competitions), almost every young Yadav in the neighbourhood practises
wrestling and body-building as a form of exercise and leisure activity. And in
conversations young Yadav informants regularly pointed out the importance of
physical strength and muscle power. They are proud of being ‘a caste of
wrestlers’ and of having an ‘innate’ fighting spirit. They portray wrestling as a
Yadav prerogative. Alter underlines how in North India the majority of the
members of akharas are of the Yadav caste.16 He explains the preponderance of
Yadav wrestlers because of the caste’s traditional involvement in the milk
business, which gave them access to two of the most important and otherwise
expensive ingredients in a wrestler’s diet: milk and clarified butter. Thus,
paramount to the Yadavs’ conception of masculinity is the idiom of milk,
which is associated with both physical strength and virility.17

Local Yadavs think that ‘milk’ has helped the members of their caste to become
strong and thus they indirectly recognise the role of their women as providers of
‘first class’ milk and strength. They also believe that, besides the ‘milk factor’,
Yadavs are predisposed by birth to be great wrestlers and skilled politicians
(because they are Kshatriyas). Locally the symbolic equation between being
Kshatriya, physical strength and political capacity is continuously expressed by
informants with the use of metaphors, parables and mythic narratives. Local

16
J.S. Alter, The Wrestler’s Body. Identity and Ideology in North India (Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1997),
pp.45 – 6.
17
Ibid., pp.148 – 9.
90 SOUTH ASIA

Yadavs emphasised that their ancestor Krishna was a skilful wrestler and a
‘democratic’ politician and that Yadav kings were also wrestlers or patrons of
wrestling tournaments (dangal). However in the eyes of my informants nothing
embodies the relationship between political skill and physical strength better
than the Yadav political leader Mulayam Singh Yadav. Mulayam Singh is said
to have paid for his studies and financed the first part of his political career by
winning wrestling competitions. He is admiringly described locally as ‘first of
all a wrestler and then a politician’.

In August 1999 the Samajwadi Party (SP) parliamentary candidate for

Mathura was presented in Sadar Bazaar on the occasion of the annual dangal
organised to celebrate Nag Panchami. Nag Panchami is the festival in which
wrestling is celebrated as a way of life for everyone; however the SP candidate
self-servingly portrayed wrestling as a culturally-distinctive feature of the
Yadavs and of the strong men voting for the Samajwadi Party. But it is not
only local politicians who invoke the language of Krishna the democratic
Kshatriya to mobilise the Yadav electorate. When they deliver speeches Yadav
politicians generally sport a Rajput turban, symbol of Kshatriya-hood. Many
also take an active part in the work of the local branch of the All Uttar Pradesh
Kshatriya Mahasabha, an association which brings together castes which claim
Kshatriya origin.18 Amar Singh, the vice-president of the Samajwadi Party,
told a Yadav caste meeting in 1999:

. . . I would like to be pardoned for saying that Mulayam Singh Ji is

not only a leader of the Yadavs but we Rajputs also admire him as
our leader. We also organised a mega event, Samajwadi Kshatriya
Mahasammelan. Mr Mulayam Singh Yadav was also felicitated on
the occasion. As I told you Yaduvanshi and Raghuvanshi (heirs of
Lord Rama) should be united. . . . The history of the Yadavs and
the Kshatriyas dates back long. Lord Ramachandra without the
support of the backward classes, he would have not [have] defeated
King Ravana. Therefore I am confident that the union of the
Yadavs and the backward class people, which has been taken care
of under the leadership of Mulayam Singh Yadav and other
leaders, will be maintained.19

18
Interview with Amar Singh, 28 Jan. 2000. See also The Hindu (12 April 1999), p.10.
19
Amar Singh, AIYM Convention, Vaishali-New Delhi, 26 Dec. 1999. Throughout this article, extracts from
speeches and texts originally in Hindi appear in English translation.
 ‘WE ARE KSHATRIYAS BUT WE BEHAVE LIKE VAISHYAS’ 91

The Yadavs’ social democratic politics remain, therefore, solidly ingrained in

Rajput-like culture.

But how is this Kshatriya political idiom linked to the consumption of meat
and alcohol? Yadav households are vegetarian. I did not meet a single local
Yadav woman who cooked meat in her household or who eats meat. True,
some households among the Goallavanshi sub-caste were non-vegetarian till
two generations ago; but now they too have turned vegetarian. In the Yadavs’
day-to-day conversations, three legitimate reasons were given for the
consumption of meat, which overlap with Ayurvedic medicine practices and
Hindu political-religious traditions.20 Yadavs think that it is acceptable to eat
meat: 1) in the context of sacrifice; 2) in providing the model of royal/political
life; and 3) in cases of medical necessity. Some of the older informants
remembered eating sacrificed meat at weddings or at ceremonies which
celebrated the arrival of a son. Typically on these occasions a goat was
sacrificed and its meat distributed to the participants. Sacrificed goat, I was
told, was food from God. Every person I talked with and who had participated
in this ritual emphasised how tasty the meat was; how it provided strength; and
how these occasions were eagerly-welcomed social events. But the last time such
an event was witnessed in Sadar Bazaar was around sixty years ago. Nowadays
in Sadar Bazaar blood sacrifice is something of the past. Nevertheless it seems
to me that these social events have been subsumed by chicken-whisky picnics
organised on the bank of the Yamuna River.

During the period of my fieldwork, picnics in Sadar Bazaar were a monthly

event but—unfortunately—an event that I was not able to attend because of my
gender. As might be evident by now, much of my ethnographic material was
collected in ‘private’ and ‘public’ spaces where women were not usually allowed
to be present. Consequently I often observed and participated in activities that
would not have been considered ‘proper’ for any Yadav woman. Most of the
time, the Yadavs of Ahir Para/Sadar Bazaar treated me as they would have
treated a man. However, their flexibility also had some limits. For example, I
was not allowed to wrestle, or participate in male gatherings like the ‘chicken
and whisky barbecues’. Even if I was often invited to these and other activities,
people expected me to politely refuse their invitations.

The above events were described to me as a way of male bonding. The

participants were mainly young Yadavs but also older men and members of

20
See for comparison F. Zimmermann, The Jungle and the Aroma of Meats. An Ecological Theme in Hindu
Medicine (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987).
92 SOUTH ASIA

other castes. In Mathura there are no pubs or bars; the akhara is indeed the
meeting point for the men of different generations and the picnic-barbecue is its
mundane (non-religious) extension. Moreover eating meat and drinking whisky
are considered fun things to do. But meat and alcohol are also considered as
‘hot’ substances which provide strength and lead to sexual passion. This was
one of the main reasons why I was not supposed to accept the invitations to the
barbecues. In the previous section I showed how Yadavs consume large
quantities of milk and how they think milk gives them strength. However milk,
as a substance, is also considered cooling by nature. As Alter points out:

. . . a diet rich in fat adds mass to the wrestler’s physique and also
functions to cool down and render peaceful a body that had been
heated and agitated by exercise. . . Moreover, milk and ghi, and
almonds are all more or less explicitly associated with semen. For
the wrestler semen is the locus point of all of his strength and
character. To lose semen is to become weak and amoral . . . To
drink milk and ghi helps to protect one’s store of semen by cooling
the heat of passion . . . . Milk, ghi and semen are, in a wrestler’s
view, highly energized but fundamentally non-erotic.21

It looks like local Yadavs need chicken and whisky not to get too dangerously
cold and feminised. Donner (elsewhere in this issue) shows how vegetarian food
is linked to a-sexuality and how women use it to cool, control and domesticate
their bodies and fertility. Also as previously mentioned, in Yadav rhetoric
Banias, who follow strict vegetarian diets, are considered effeminate and
cowardly. At the picnics, I have been told, the consumption of meat is peppered
by intensive talk about sex and women. Indeed the barbecues are often a lead-
up to a night with a prostitute. However sex is not the only reason why people
think it is not so bad to eat meat and consume alcohol. For the ‘Yadav caste of
politicians’, politics is always in the background. When I argued with some of
the participants that drinking whisky and eating chicken were not Vaishya
behaviour, they answered me back, smilingly, that they were Rajputs, and
warriors and kings had since time immemorial eaten meat and drunk alcohol.
In the Mahabharata epic, which locally they describe as ‘the book of the
Yadavs’, the position of the Kshatriyas is given great prominence and the epic
text, while promoting vegetarianism and non-violence, also praises hunting and
the fortifying virtues of meat. Here the dharma and the ideal of non-violence are

21
J. Alter, ‘The Body of One Color: Indian Wrestling, the Indian State and Utopian Somatics’, in Cultural
Anthropology, Vol.XIII, no.1 (Feb. 1993), p.56.
 ‘WE ARE KSHATRIYAS BUT WE BEHAVE LIKE VAISHYAS’ 93

reconciled with the idea of the artha—which included warfare, hunting and the
necessities of medicine.22 As Zimmermann points out:

‘Eating meat is in accordance with a traditional idea purveyed

principally by Ayurvedic medicine. However disgusting meat may
appear as seen against Brahminic norms, a diet based on meat is
nevertheless prized from the point of view of a therapy to
encourage strength and virility as concentrated within the person
of the king by means of treatment. Such treatments involve
aphrodisiacs and cures to promote youthfulness, in which meats
play a major role.23

For example chicken broth, I was told very confidentially, was a good remedy
for sick people (a last resort pick-me-up). One day I overheard a conversation
between one of my main informants (Ram Yadav, 50 years old) and my research
assistant, a Bania girl from a well-known Vaishnava family. Ram advised her
that when his own father fell ill, he would take chicken broth. Eating meat is
hence locally culturally legitimated—as is, in some ways, the violence and
amorality which surround politics. Legitimate force (danda) and ‘the conduct of
punishment’ (dandaniti) are both condoned in Hindu political philosophy.24
Force, flexibility and alliances are the essential building blocks of political
position and power and indeed, as Ruud observes, ‘Politics does and will always
mean getting involved in an activity that is less than absolute and pure’.25

As mentioned previously, I had chicken and whisky at private and public places
during formal and informal political meetings. Yadavs and Muslims together
represent the backbone of the Samajwadi Party: and sharing kebabs and
tandoori chicken socially sanctioned that alliance. Commensality is a key
strategy to construct political alliances.26 Contemporary ‘Sanskritised’ politi-
cians need not be fussy. As Mayer observes of Central India, ‘commensality
among castes (or rather, the Rajputs’ lack of restrictions on their commensality
with other lower castes)’ is a major source of their power. ‘They share food or
enjoy the hookah with a large number of castes which are described as their

22
Zimmermann, The Jungle and the Aroma of Meats. An Ecological Theme in Hindu Medicine, pp.184 – 5.
23
Ibid., p.185.
24
L. Dumont, Homo Hierarchicus. The Caste System and its Implications (Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, [1966] 1980), p.9.
25
A. Ruud, ‘Talking Dirt about Politics: A View from a Bengali Village’, in C.J. Fuller and V. Bénéı̈ (eds),
The Everyday State and Society in India (New Delhi: Social Science Press, 2000), p.134.
26
A.C. Mayer, Caste and Kinship in Central India: A Village and its Region (Berkeley: University of California
Press, 1960).
94 SOUTH ASIA

‘‘allied castes’’, and they stand together in village affairs. In a word, Rajputs
compromise their ritual purity but are rewarded with political support. This is
not an explicit agreement but a social mechanism that rewards closeness, in
spite of the fact that such a mechanism has a hard time finding cultural
legitimation’.27

As S. Yadav, a local Samajwadi Party leader mentioned to me more than once,

politicians need to compromise and need to be friends with everybody. Hence
eating meat and sharing meat with other castes and Muslims is considered for
Yadav Sanskritised politicians an acceptable and fundamental political strategy.

Conclusion
Research on the relationship between food and caste in India has tended to
discuss vegetarian and non-vegetarian diets and issues of commensality in
relation to caste hierarchies and mobility within the caste system. In particular
an extended literature on caste movements describes how low- to middle-
ranked caste groups give up meat and alcohol in a bid to become ‘purer’, and
thereby improve their ritual and social status in the local caste hierarchy and in
society more generally. These social movements often have a political
character. However the implications of politics for the diet of these reformed,
Sanskritised and politicised castes has been understudied.

Consuming chicken (and goat) and drinking whisky is important for

‘vegetarian’ democratic, muscular and secular Yadav politicians. This is mainly
for two reasons: first, Yadavs need to indulge in non-vegetarian food (‘hot’
substances) and alcohol (hot) to enhance their masculinity, martial outlook and
political force. Organising chicken and whisky picnics on the bank of the
Yamuna River are part of Yadav macho culture which nourishes the production
of a new class of muscled ‘democratic’ big men. Secondly, Yadavs need to eat
non-vegetarian food in order to create a sense of secular democratic unity with
their Muslim allies. Yadavs’ non-vegetarian lapses are legitimised by their being
Kshatriyas and politicians. By the same token, being vegetarian and
worshipping vegetarian deities—which is locally described as ‘behaving like
Vaishyas’—remain important aspects of the formation of an all-India Yadav
community.

The ambivalent lives of Mathura’s Yadavs—‘being Kshatriyas (politicians) and

behaving like Vaishyas’—reflect a Dumontian ideological framework in which

27
Ibid., p.133.
 ‘WE ARE KSHATRIYAS BUT WE BEHAVE LIKE VAISHYAS’ 95

the use of force (danda) is still encompassed by the holistic principle of dharma.
Yet politics and practices associated with ‘the political’ (namely the use of
danda, the consumption of meat and the breaching of commensality) in the day-
to-day lives of the Yadavs of Mathura do not seem to conflict with their ideas
about ritual hierarchy and religious practices. In Hindu political philosophy
power (artha) is not necessarily opposed to dharma, but distinct from it. In the
Yadav caste culture what one eats and drinks contributes simultaneously to
keeping the two worlds together, yet distinct.