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Tribals and Dalits in Orissa
Tribals and Dalits in Orissa
Towards a Social History of Exclusion,
c. 1800–1950
Biswamoy Pati
1
1
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PREFACE
As Biswamoy Pati’s Tribals and Dalits in Orissa goes posthumously

into print, I write this Preface for a volume that he will never get to see.
His sudden and untimely demise in June 2017, following a minor sur-
gical procedure, has thus robbed him of what he would have jestingly
termed the ‘fruits of his labour’. This study therefore marks the end of
a lifetime of a prodigious publishing output which totalled more than
twenty volumes, consisting of monographs and edited collections of
essays—the latter epitomizing his gift of ‘inclusiveness,’ his ability to
bring together contributors from across the country and the world.
Working on this last MS of his has been my sole mission over the
last several months. It has been an emotional journey. While preparing
this book for publication, I recalled how, as young people starting out
our life together some three decades ago, we had both enthusiastically
copy-edited his first book Resisting Domination: Tribals, Peasants and
the National Movement in Orissa, 1920–1950 (1993), based on his PhD
thesis. That pioneering work which marked a milestone in Orissa’s
historiography brought into focus the forgotten ‘Others’, namely the
tribals, outcastes, and peasants who had been invisibilized by history.
Underlying this research actually lay deeply held, passionate,
political convictions and an identification with those who had been
dispossessed and disenfranchised by history. I remember how in the
context of the early 1980s, when railway networks, and even roads,
viii Preface
barely existed in parts of the western interiors of Orissa, Biswamoy

carried out arduous fieldwork, interviewing tribal communities in the
remotest areas of Koraput, Jeypore, and the Bonda hills, regions pos-
sibly not visited by any historian before.
Over the years his research on the marginal sections went on to
encompass an extensive range of themes—most notable was his path-
breaking work on the social history of health and medicine; indig-
enous and tribal medicine; leprosy, small pox, and the treatment of
insanity in colonial institutions such as the Cuttack lunatic asylum.
Some of the other key issues he wrote on included the neglected region
of western Orissa with its princely states, the process of Hinduization
among tribals in colonial Orissa; the forgotten role of advasis and trib-
als in the Rebellion of 1857, as well as their role in the Indian National
Movement. This last monograph of his brings together many of these
broad strains.
Biswamoy’s serious commitment to research was inspirational for me
as well, his friend and partner. His enthusiasm underlay every book of
mine, even though my own area was so different, centring on the white
woman in colonial India. And as far as young research scholars were
concerned, he was always sympathetic and encouraging, ever-ready to
discuss their projects, chapters, and proposals. He often included their
work in his collections of essays and helped them in getting their first
book published. He has thus left behind a legacy of fine young scholars.
This particular volume could never have been finalized without the
help of our dear young friend Saurabh Mishra. Despite his own hectic
schedule at the University of Sheffield, and innumerable other commit-
ments and responsibilities, Saurabh took it upon himself to perform
the Herculean task of helping out with ‘Sir’s’ MS in the initial phase. It
was like a mission for him. He took it up at a time when I was not in a
position to be able to concentrate immediately after Biswamoy’s sudden
demise. My immense gratitude to Saurabh cannot be put in words.
Finally, I cannot forget the generosity of Dr Cornelia Mallebrein who
responded immediately to my emailed request, with images collected
by her from the western interiors of Orissa, to be used on the cover.
I cannot thank her enough for facilitating this in his last book.
Indrani Sen
New Delhi, 2018
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The social history of the marginal people of Orissa has been the focus
of my research for the last four decades or so. Some of the issues that
I deal with in this monograph are also the ones that have occupied
me from my earliest works. In the course of this long journey which
began with my doctoral work in the 1980s, I have incurred numerous
debts both personal and institutional.
I must first thank the Nehru Memorial Museum and Library, New
Delhi for awarding me a Senior Fellowship which enabled me to work
on this book in an uninterrupted fashion. My sincere thanks to the
helpful staff of various archives and repositories which I have used
over the years; in particular, the Orissa State Archives (Bhubaneshwar);
the West Bengal State Archives and the National Library (both in
Calcutta); the National Archives of India and the Nehru Memorial
Museum Library (both in New Delhi); the Oriental and India Office
Records at the British Library and Wellcome Library (both at London);
and the South Asia Institute Library (Heidelberg).
Fellowships and grants by funding bodies and institutions have
supported parts of my research over these years, including a British
Academy ‘Visiting Fellowship’ at Sheffield Hallam University; a ‘Ratan
Tata Fellowship’ at the London School of Economics; a ‘Baden-
Wuerttemberg Fellowship’ at Heidelberg University; a ‘Career Award’
Fellowship and a ‘Research Award’ Fellowship awarded by the
x Acknowledgements
University Grants Commission, New Delhi; an ‘International Visiting

Fellowship’ at Oxford Brookes University; and a ‘Visiting Fellowship’
at the Department of History, Aarhus University, Denmark. Grants
from the Indian Council for Historical Research, Wellcome Trust, and
the Charles Wallace India Trust also helped me to do research work
at London.
Several of the ideas contained in the book have been presented
at seminars/conferences and lectures; conferences of the Society
for the Social History of Medicine at Queen’s College, Oxford; the
American Association for the History of Medicine at Johns Hopkins
University, Bethesda; the European Science Foundation at Wolfson
College, Cambridge; the South Asian Studies Institute, University of
Heidelberg; the International Institute of Asian Studies, Leiden; the
International Convention of Asian Scholars at Singapore; the two
conferences of the Orissa Research Programme at Salzau, Germany;
the two conferences on the Princely States and India’s Independence
at the University of Southampton; the conference organized by
Goldsmiths College and Edinburgh University at London; the
European Conference on South Asian Studies, University of Zurich;
the International Conference on Asian medicine, Changwon, South
Korea; the South Pacific Workshop, at the University of Canterbury,
New Zealand and the International Leprosy History Symposium at the
Sasakawa Memorial Health Foundation, Tokyo. In India, recent
lectures and conference presentations at Utkal University, Berhampur
University, Adaspur College (all in Orissa); Jadavpur University,
Ramsaday College, IDSK, Calcutta University (all in Kolkata); the Centre
for Contemporary Studies (Nehru Memorial Museum and Library),
Jamia Millia Islamia and the National Archives (all at New Delhi).
Most recently, the National Conference on ‘Anthropological Histories
and Tribal Worlds in India’, at the Indian Institute of Advanced Study,
Shimla; the Conference on ‘The Caste Question and the Historian’s
Craft’ at the Centre for the Study of Developing Societies, New Delhi.
I wish to thank all those who interacted with me at these forums, with
their questions, suggestions and comments: these have helped me to
sharpen my focus and my arguments.
I am grateful to all those whom I have interviewed in the course of
my research. I cannot forget the ‘unknown’ tribal folk of Koraput,
Kalahandi, and the Bonda hills around whom my life’s work has
Acknowledgements xi
revolved all these years, and from I have learnt so much about the
meanings of social exclusion.
I also acknowledge the encouragement I received at various stages
from Professors Amiya Bagchi, Amit K. Gupta, Hermann Kulke, K.N.
Panikkar, and Sumit Sarkar. The friendship of Amar, Amit, Arun,
Bahuguna, Bhairabi, Gopi, Lata, Madhurima, Mark, Mayank, Mridula
Ramanna, Pralay, Prasun, Rajesh, Raj Kumar, Rajsekhar, Ramakrishna
da, Sanjukta, Sarmistha, Sekhar, Shashank, and Waltraud has sustained
me in various ways. During research visits to England, there was
always Manu, Menka, Samiksha, and Saurabh to provide laptops and
blankets and add cheer to our stay. Special thanks to Manmohan for
his help at all times, and also to Ranjana, Saurav, and Shilpi.
I appreciate the keen interest taken by Oxford University Press,
New Delhi, in this monograph. I also wish to thank the two anonymous
reviewers for their helpful comments and suggestions.
My parents who always encouraged my research are not here to see
this book; Alekha Bhai, Bhauja, Bindu, Jiban, Sukanta, Tina, and my
nephew Sobhan have always been supportive. My final thanks goes to
Indrani, my friend and companion throughout this long journey; she
has not only been actively involved with this work, but with everything
else that I have written in the past.
Earlier versions of some the chapters have appeared as follows:
Chapter 2 (as ‘Rhythms of Change and Devastation: Colonial Capitalism
and the World of the Socially Excluded in Orissa’) in Social Scientist
(Vol 44, No. 7–8, July–August, 2016, pp. 27–51); Chapter 3 (as ‘Survival,
Interrogation, and Contests: Tribal Resistance in Nineteenth Century
Odisha’) in Uwe Skoda and Biswamoy Pati (eds)., Highland Odisha:
Life and Society (New Delhi: Primus, 2017, pp. 23–48); and Chapter 6
(‘Alternative Visions: The Communists and the State People’s Movement,
Nilgiri 1937–1948’) in Arun Bandhopadhyay and Sanjukta Das Gupta
(eds), In Search of the Historian’s Craft (New Delhi: Manohar, 2018,
pp. 435–62). I thank the publishers for their permission to use
them here.
Biswamoy Pati
New Delhi, 2017
ABBREVIATIONS
AICC All India Congress Committee

AISPC All India State People’s Conference
BL British Library, London
CDM Civil Disobedience Movement
CFLN Confidential File on Laxman Naiko at the Mathili
Police Station
CPI Communist Party of India
EIC English East India Company
FIR First Information Report
HPFR Home Political Fortnightly Reports
IOR India Office Records, British Library, London
NAI National Archives of India, New Delhi
NGO Non-governmental Organization
NLS National Library of Scotland
NMML Nehru Memorial Museum and Library, New Delhi
NPARI Nilgiri Praja Andolanara Itihasa (The History of the
Nilgiri Prajamandal)
OLAP Orissa Legislative Assembly Proceedings
ORP Orissa Research Project
OSA Orissa State Archives
PCC Provincial Congress Committee
PW Prosecution Witness
xiv Abbreviations
RPEAEC Report of the Partially Excluded Areas Enquiry

Committee Orissa 1940
SC Sessions Court
SCP Sessions Court Proceedings
SF Subject File
WBSA West Bengal State Archives
WWCC Who’s Who Compilation
BIHAR
WEST BENGAL
Su
nd
arg
MADHYA arh Mayurbhanj
PRADESH Keo
njha
r
e
Sambalpur
or
las
Ba
Dhenkanal
Bolangir O R I S S A
h s Cuttack
ud al
Kalahandi Ba ndm
a Puri
Kh
Ganjam
B a y
Koraput
o f
B e n g a l
ANDHRA
PRADESH
Map 1 Orissa: Provinces

Source: Author.
Note: This map does not represent the authentic national and international boundaries
of India. This map is not to scale and is provided for illustrative purpose only.
Jo
Ranchi Singhbhum
sh
ip
ur
Ra Singhbhum
iga Gangpur Midnapur
rh
Sa
ran Bonai Mayurbhanj
ga
rh Keo
r njha
lpu Bamra r Nilgiri
e
ba
or
am Talche Pallahar
las
Rajpur S Rairakhol r
Ba
Sonepur Athmallik Dhen
kana
Kh
gul l
a r i a r Za in d a
Patna Baud An Hindol Cuttack

ur
p Baramba
sing
m
Nar Khandapara
i
nd
ri Nayagarh
Puri
aha
Ranpur
Ganjam
Kal
B a y
Bastar o f
Koraput
B e n g a l
Province boundary
Madras
Princely State boundary
District boundary
Map 2 Princely States of Orissa

Source: Author.
Note: This map does not represent the authentic national and international boundaries
of India. This map is not to scale and is provided for illustrative purpose only.
CHAPTER ONE
Invisibility, Social Exclusion,

Survival
Tribals and the Untouchables/Dalits in Orissa
This book aims to trace the history of the excluded people of Orissa
over a time frame that takes into account the colonial and the post-
colonial. The narrative begins in colonial times, when many long-
term developments in the tribal context were first set into motion.
Social historians speak of the ‘long term’, the ‘day to day’ and the
explosive/extraordinary forms of protest while referring to the lives
of oppressed social groups. However, one wonders if features such as
basic survival strategies are taken into account when talking of the
socially excluded. Besides the fact that protests in some form or the
other made the tribals and outcastes/dalits enter the official files and
the colonial archive, this study also takes into account strategies for
survival when examining their lives. After all, the basic act of simply
surviving not only demonstrates resistance but is something that
Tribals and Dalits in Orissa. Biswamoy Pati, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford
University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780199489404.003.0001.
2 Tribals and Dalits in Orissa
simultaneously expresses a whole range of possibilities related to

existence.
The fact that they somehow managed to survive has, hidden
right beneath the surface, a whole range of complexities while also
demonstrating the ability to resist or push back against dominant
social orders. In terms of method, this implies unveiling the lives
and times of people that have been hidden and invisibilized. The
task of the historian is to recover these lives and to dig into the lay-
ers that lie submerged beneath the humdrum realities of existence.
These are some of the complexities that I seek to explore in this book.
Apart from looking at the connections between the historical past,
and controversies that rage on in the present day, one of the other
aims of the book is to analyse some powerful colonial discourses
regarding tribes.
SITUATING ORISSA
Orissa is often perceived as consisting of two parts: the fertile coastal

strip towards the east, and the relatively more remote forested and
mountainous region in the west. While about half of Orissa’s inhabit-
ants live in the coastal tract, the remainder of the population composed
largely of poor adivasis (tribals) and outcastes inhabit the mountain-
ous regions. The Kandhas, Santhals, Mundas, Gadbas, Hos, Bhuyans,
Koyas, Juangas, Parajas, Sauras, Kols, Bhumijs, and Bondas are among
the prominent tribal communities, but the ranks of ‘marginal people’
are also swelled by non-tribal low castes/outcastes. Prominent among
the non-tribal low castes/outcastes were the Panas, Bauris, Hadis, and
Kandaras. Most of them worked as agricultural labourers (some of
whom were bonded, or forced labourers), and some marginal peas-
ants faced dispossession and loss of ‘customary’ rights over natural
resources, like forests.
Post-colonial Orissa presents a classic case of the contradictions
of underdevelopment. It is a storehouse of natural resources, ranging
from bauxite, iron ore, and coal to forest resources—especially in
the western hilly regions—and has naturally attracted huge invest-
ments related to major multinational-backed projects, very often
without proper assessment of how these would impact the people
Invisibility, Social Exclusion, Survival 3
or the region.1 This is in sharp contrast to the life of the majority

of the population—the marginal adivasis, low castes (which include
the Sudras, some of whom were/are defined as ‘untouchables’
due to the ambiguous and oppressive realities of the caste system)
and outcastes.
Historically, Orissa has been marked by economic, social, and
cultural variations. During Mughal rule (1578–1751), it was split into
two parts based on geographical, ecological, and economic divisions:
the fertile coastal plain (the moghulbandi area) held directly by the
Mughals, and the hilly, heavily forested hinterland (garhjat states). In
1751 Orissa was taken over by the Marathas, and in 1803–4 it was
taken over by the English East India Company (which occupied the
coastal belt and incorporated it into the Bengal Presidency). During
colonial rule Orissa was divided into British India, consisting of the
directly controlled coastal districts of Puri, Cuttack, and Balasore in
the east and the princely states (also variously termed by the British
as the ‘tributary states’ or ‘feudatory states’), mostly located in western
Orissa, which were under indirect British rule. Besides, there were
a number of zamindaris along the coastal tract of Balasore, Cuttack,
Puri, and Ganjam, which were all under direct colonial administra-
tion. Right up to the country’s independence, Orissa comprised
twenty-six princely states, some of which had zamindaris under them.
Geographically located in what was identified as the non-coastal,
western interior, they were also referred to as garhjats (garh=fort).2
COLONIAL INTERVENTIONS , TRIBALS , AND UNTOUCHABLES : LAND

SETTLEMENTS AND THE EXPANSION OF CULTIVATION
The British colonization of Orissa saw major agrarian interventions

over the nineteenth century. These were primarily in the form of land
1 Very few studies exist on this subject; to get an idea on this aspect see,
for instance, Felix Padel and Samarendra Das, Out of this Earth: East India
Adivasis and the Aluminium Cartel (New Delhi: Orient BlackSwan, 2010).
2 In course of the chapters in this book we specifically touch upon the
princely states of Kalahandi, Mayurbhanj, Nilgiri, Gangpur, Keonjhar, and

the erstwhile Jeypore zamindari.
revenue settlements that were aimed at tapping agrarian resources.

Whereas land settlements with the princely states and zamindars
(landlords) were made on a long-term, permanent basis, parts of the
coastal tract which were directly under the British only experienced
temporary settlements. The colonial agrarian interventions saw the
emergence of private property, land rights, commercialization of
agriculture, and an increasing degree of monetization. Although
marked by diversities, the impact generated by colonialism on the
world of the tribals was increasingly felt in a significant manner after
the formal takeover of Orissa by the English East India Company
(1803–4). British policy was aimed at expanding plough cultivation in
areas where shifting cultivation was practised, but the promotion of
the plough was not very successful as it did not suit the environment
where it was being introduced. This, again, led to the impoverishment
of the ordinary jhum/podu cultivator as they could not successfully
take up the plough.
As for the untouchable castes, a dominant section was associated
with various activities ranging from the traditional industries (like
cotton and salt-manufacturing—for example, Malangis, who prac-
tised the latter as their caste profession) and agriculture. The shifts
and changes over the nineteenth century posed major challenges that
unsettled them by dispossessing them. What one witnesses, as a result,
is the development of a surplus labour force, new systems of bonded
labour, and a new pattern of migration.
Simultaneously, one needs to grapple with the way the sahukar–
zamindar–sarkar (money-lender–landlord–government) nexus impacted
the tribals, untouchables, and dalits, the question of dispossession/
migration, and the process of politicization and resistance. Alongside
that, one has to factor in crucial issues faced by households of the
socially excluded. These ranged from the imposition of restrictions
through forest laws (which produced very serious problems like the
undermining of the traditional medicinal system) and the manufac-
ture of liquor, to the resistance to women obtaining land rights. The
last of these, in turn, saw patriarchal forces attempting to reassert
themselves through practices like witch-hunting. Consequently, one
has to go way beyond the colonial/anti-colonial paradigm to explore
areas of social history in order to grapple with the issue of social exclu-
sion. This would not only enable us to see a holistic picture without
romanticizing anything, but also direct scholarly attention towards

effective analyses of the scope and basis of their apparent anti-colonial
‘outbursts’.
One of the serious changes that occurred during the colonial
period was the entrenchment of the British administrative system,
which resulted in large-scale interference with the existing way of life.
Colonialism’s power extended into the forests in a significant manner,
regulating, controlling, and tapping their resources. This undermined
the administrative and economic position of tribal chiefs in their own
territories, with village-level institutions losing their powers when it
came to controlling land and forests. In parts of the Bengal Presidency
such as Orissa, some of the relatively privileged tribal chiefs were
incorporated through the land settlements and Brahminical
Hinduism’s caste system as ‘tributary chiefs’ (princes) and zamindars,
along with sections that were ‘outsiders’ and those who were settled as
zamindars. These princes and zamindars emerged as the support base
of British colonialism. They were required to pay a tribute (peshkush)
to the colonial government out of the rents extracted from the tribals
and the settled agriculturalists. Besides ensuring a steady inflow of
resources for the colonial administration in the form of the tribute
that these princes paid, this also served to tap the resources and
administer the inaccessible forest tracts. The introduction of this
new system of administration considerably lessened the power of
village-level institutions.
The princely states were largely despotic and labels such as the and-
harua mulaks (the ‘dark zones’) were popularly bestowed on them. In
fact, popular memory remembers the people of the twenty-six princely
states as garhjatias (residents of the garhjats) who accepted and toler-
ated their despotic chiefs along with the terror that was unleashed
by these despots. Most of the princely rulers went to great lengths
to prove their antiquity and invented their ancient past through
rajabansabalis (chronicles of their ancestral genealogies), which set
off a virtual competition among them to validate their claims and,
in many cases, to establish imagined links with the martial ‘Rajput’
traditions of north India.
The summary settlements in the princely states significantly rein-
forced a process of social stratification that had pre-colonial origins.
While the states paid a paltry, fixed amount (peshkush) to the British,
they collected large amounts of revenue from the people through

taxes, which were arbitrarily and exponentially increased every year.
Thus, throughout the nineteenth century, the system in the princely
states was designed, preserved, and reinforced by colonialism, with
the active collaboration of the feudal chiefs as its junior partners. In
some instances, some of the princely darbars (princely courts) also
flirted with the idea of ‘modernity’. This had a direct bearing on their
mode of functioning. While essentially conservative in their exis-
tence, these princes joined the bandwagon of ‘modernity’ to legitimize
their position in the eyes of both the British as well as the emerging
Indian middle class. Consequently, what needs to be stressed is that,
through the incorporation of the project of ‘modernity’, the darbars
legitimized their existence as much as they legitimized colonialism.
This meant that the peasants and tribals in the princely states lost out
in two ways: they had no rights over lands (in fact even customary
rights over forest, pastures, and rivers were progressively undermined
over the nineteenth century itself), and they were left mercilessly to
the whims of the darbars when it came to taxation demands, which
increased steadily from the 1860s to the 1940s. All of these are issues
that we shall examine in greater detail in Chapter 2.3
DEFINING ‘ TRIBAL ’ IDENTITY IN COLONIAL ORISSA
The initial years of colonial presence were restricted to the coastal

tract, and both Puri and Jagannatha emerged as key components
of the drive for legitimacy, so that the state did everything possible
to get ‘Jagannatha’ to sanction its authority.4 While striking terror
on the hills and crushing the Rendo Majhis, the Chakra Bisois and,
3 For details see Waltraud Ernst, Biswamoy Pati, and T.V. Sekhar, Health
and Medicine in the India Princely States, 1850–1950 (London: Routledge,
2018). See also Biswamoy Pati, ‘The Order of Legitimacy: Princely Orissa,
1850–1947’, in Waltraud Ernst and Biswamoy Pati (eds), India’s Princely
States: People, Princes and Colonialism (London: Routledge, 2007), 85–98.
4 For details, see Hermann Kulke, ‘ “Juggernaut” under British Supremacy
and the Resurgence of the Khurda Rajas as the “Rajas of Puri” ’, in A.

Eschmann, H. Kulke and G.C. Tripathy (eds), The Cult of Jagannatha and the
Regional Tradition of Orissa (New Delhi: Manohar, 1978), 346.
later, the Dharani Bhuyans, the enterprise of acquiring knowledge to

effectively control the region formed a central part of colonial policy.5
This implied intellectual productions associated with classifying strat-
egies that saw the active support of some upper caste collaborators.
Reinforcing this phenomenon were major contributions made by
colonial officialdom, the upper castes, and propertied sections such as
the princes and the zamindars.
Another part of this enterprise meant that everything had to be
given a form and position and incorporated into the ‘colonial knowl-
edge’ system. For example, a set of diverse people that constituted the
‘tribals’ were classified as ‘brutal’. Of course, there were clear efforts
here to focus specifically on some tribal groups such as the Kandhas
(who supposedly practised human sacrifice), in order to construct
homogenous ideas about tribes in general. Any simple effort to exam-
ine the colonial ‘terror strikes’ in the hills over the years between 1800
and 1860 would easily show how this was occasioned by a combination
of fears and insecurities regarding the tribals, along with an eagerness
to extend control and conquer the untapped resources of the region.
And it was precisely here that the ‘civilizing mission’ was invoked to
justify the brutal campaigns in the hills. In fact, this partially led to
the creation of the ‘civilized’/‘uncivilized’ binary, which the colonial
knowledge system oscillated between, providing the ‘rationale’ to
either crush or romanticize the hill people (which included tribals and
also large sections of untouchables) according to specific needs and
contexts. Some historians tend to over-emphasize the role of colonial-
ism when it comes to caste formation; while there is some justification
for this, one needs to underline the fact that the pre-colonial order
was also rooted in inequalities. This was altered, or intensified, over
the course of the nineteenth century when land settlements united the
colonial administration, the Brahminical order, and the propertied
classes (comprising the princes and the landlords) in an enterprise
that polarized caste/class equations.
5 Rendho Majhi (head of the Borikiya Kandhas of Kalahandi), Chakra

Bisoi, legendary tribal leader; and Dharani Bhuyan (Bhuyan leader of
Keonjhar) led major uprisings against the colonial authorities in the
nineteenth century. See Chapter 3.
By the nineteenth century, a ‘tribe’ came to be seen not only as part

of a particular type of society, but also a particular ‘stage of evolution’.
A closely related assumption was that the tribe was an isolated, self-
contained, and primitive social formation. This was despite the fact
that such arguments are difficult to sustain when it comes to the South
Asian world, where interactions between the tribal/non-tribal people
has had a long past.6 It needs to be emphasized that tribal communi-
ties were very much a part of the South Asian social reality at the time
of India’s colonization. Besides, labels such as these drew upon the
active participation and collaboration of the upper caste, Brahminical
order. In addition, they were coloured by race theories of the West as
well as by interactions with the pre-colonial ideas and institutions that
were carried over in an altered form during colonial times. Equally
significant were the colonial agrarian interventions and the commer-
cialization of agriculture and the ways in which these impacted pro-
duction processes and social structures. Given these complexities, the
world of the tribals—which was far from being monolithic at the time
of India’s colonization—underwent major shifts and changes over the
course of the nineteenth century. Taken together, they were clearly
responsible for reinforcing the structure of stratification. Whereas
historians have tended to stress the anti-colonial dimension, what
needs to be also studied is the way in which tribal society negotiated
with itself, along with the shifts and changes that it went through. The
outward manifestation of this process can be seen in various acts of
resistance, but the deeper implications of this need to be explored and
researched further.
UNPACKING COLONIAL STEREOTYPES
Although tribal society meant different things to different people

by the nineteenth century, what gradually developed as a part of
6 See André Béteille, ‘The Idea of Indigenous People’, Current Anthropology,

vol. 39, no. 2 (1998), 187–91; Virginius Xaxa, ‘Tribes as Indigenous People of
India’, Economic and Political Weekly, vol. 34, no. 52 (1999), 3589–95; and
Bengt G. Karlsson, ‘Anthropology and the “Indigenous Slot”: Claims to and
Debates about Indigenous Peoples’ Status in India’, Critique of Anthropology,
vol. 23, no. 4 (2003), 403–23.
‘common sense’ was its location on the fringes of sedentary, peas-

ant society. For colonial rulers, the distance or closeness from caste
Hindu peasant society with regard to social and cultural practices/
rituals seemed to have been the yardstick that determined how
‘uncivilized’/‘civilized’ a particular tribal community was. This
served as the guiding rationale behind colonial officials’ percep-
tion of them as ‘wild’ people who needed to be ‘tamed’ or ‘civilized’.
The effort to survey the tribes led to descriptive accounts that
highlighted their distinctive character. In colonial documents and
census reports, tribal people were often classed as ‘aborigines’
and ‘semi-Hinduized’ people, while pastoralists or nomads were
located as ‘wandering tribes’ who needed to be ‘settled’. What was
never seriously considered was the basis of the problem—namely
the colonial inroads and the manner in which they unsettled a
large section of people and thereby created and/or reinforced this
phenomenon.7
Colonial officials and anthropologists were the pioneers who
collected materials related to the lives of the tribal people and docu-
mented these through descriptive accounts.8 Here one cannot miss
the fact that they were based on the interactions with the Brahminical
order. Moreover, what might have started as a matter of curiosity
did assume a serious dimension with the taking over of India by the
Crown in 1858. This led to the beginning of the serious enterprise of
acquiring knowledge in order to administer the tribals effectively—a
process that was significantly reinforced during the census operations
that were launched in the 1860s.9 By the end of the nineteenth century,
with the experience of four census operations, colonial officialdom
7 For example, both Meena Radhakrishna, Dishonoured by History:

‘Criminal Tribes’ and British Colonial Policy (Hyderabad: Orient Longman,
2001) and Bhangya Bhukya, Subjugated Nomads: The Lambadas under the
Rule of the Nizams (New Delhi: Orient BlackSwan, 2010) refer to the colonial
logic of unsettling and then criminalizing nomadic people.
8 See, for example, E.T. Dalton, Descriptive Ethnology of Bengal (Calcutta:
Office of the Superintendent of Government Printing, 1872), and E. Thurston,

Anthropology of the Todas and Kotas of the Nilgiri Hills (Madras: Superintendent
of Government Press, 1896).
9 The First Census Report was completed in 1871–2.
could think of defining the category of the ‘tribe’. Thus, as H.H. Risley
put it:
A tribe as we find in India is a collection of families or groups of families

bearing a common name which as a rule does not denote any specific
occupation; generally claiming common descent from a mythical or his-
torical ancestor and occasionally from an animal, but in some parts of
the country held together by the obligations of blood-feud than by the
tradition of kinship; usually speaking the same language and occupying,
professing, or claiming to occupy a definite tract of country. A tribe is
not necessarily endogamous.10
Behind this was a serious enterprise that sought to make the ‘tribe’
definable. Beyond administrative needs, one can discern the idea of
classifying tribes and seeing them differently from caste as the ‘guid-
ing principle’ behind this effort. What is simultaneously observable is
that early descriptive efforts gradually lost their fluidities and became
polarized in order to incorporate typical stereotypes regarding the
‘brutal’ and ‘wild’ tribals. Fuelled and reinforced by the pressures of
increasing racism over the 1850s and 1940s, this colonial knowledge
system drew upon the discourses of ‘scientists’, ethnographers, colo-
nial officials, travellers, and fiction writers, amongst others, to justify
its positions.11
Certain typical aspects of colonial anthropology and classification
strategy are discernible in the way the ‘tribal’ was constructed. This
ranged from the glorification of the ‘ancient people of the east’ to
emphasizing the essentially ‘brutal’ and ‘violent’ nature of the tribals.
Of course, certain elements such as the image of the ‘violent tribal’
retains a level of unparalleled continuity. Colonial brutality associ-
ated with conquering the tribal tracts (or jungle mahals, forested hills
and so on, as they were called) were often justified on the basis of
presenting this negative image of the tribal. Interestingly, along with
10
H.H. Risley, Census of India, 1901, Vol. 1, Part 1 (Calcutta:
Superintendent of Government Printing, 1903), 514.
11 Meena Radhakrishna explores some of these dimensions in ‘Of Apes
and Ancestors: Evolutionary Science and Colonial Ethnography’, in

Biswamoy Pati (ed.), Adivasis in Colonial India (New Delhi: Orient
BlackSwan, 2011), 31–54.
other aspects, this construct stressed their violent nature on the basis
of the ‘fact’ that they were always ‘armed’—namely with sticks, pick-
axes, or bows and arrows. What needs to be articulated here is that
these ‘weapons’ were as commonplace as the pistols and guns carried
by colonial officials who toured forests and mountains, or the books,
papers, and laptops carried by historians today. Additionally, these
ideas about the ‘barbaric’ and ‘wild’ tribes were also reinforced by
sections of the Oriya middle class, based on pre-existing fears and
insecurities of the popular masses—a point that we shall look at more
closely later in this chapter.
Besides, one needs to bear in mind the ambiguities and grey areas
while drawing distinctions between the tribes and the untouchables. It
is not unusual to find, in many official reports and archival sources, a
tribal group being identified both as untouchables as well as a tribe.12
Consequently, one has to be careful about boundaries that seek to
differentiate between the ‘tribes’ and untouchables/dalits. At the
same time, the process of ‘integration’, which led to the incorpora-
tion of tribals into the Brahminical order of caste needs to be grasped
as well. Although projected as a ‘harmonious’ affair that drew upon
the method of colonial anthropology of situating tribes based on the
similarities/dissimilarities with Brahminical caste society, the process
was marked with complexities that ranged from brutal terror strikes
that aimed to ‘civilise the Tribals’, to sections of the latter opting, in
certain cases, to be incorporated as tribals. Here one has to be sensi-
tive to see the process of conversions (which some scholars choose
to call ‘integration’), predominantly to Brahminical Hinduism—a
phenomenon that we shall examine in detail in Chapter 3.13
Simultaneously, the term ‘tribal’ (as well as Adivasi—namely,
ancient people) needs to be substantially clarified while discussing
12 H.H. Risley, The Tribes and Castes of Bengal, Vols I and II (Calcutta:
Bengal Secretariat Press, 1891), can be cited as a representative example
where this is evident.
13 G.N. Dash refers to the absorption of tribals, over-emphasizes the
‘openness’ of the caste system, overlooks the exploitative aspects of the caste
system in Orissa, and the dimensions of terror accompanying this process of
caste consolidation: G.N. Dash, Hindus and Tribals: Quest for Co-Existence
(New Delhi: Decent Books, 1998).
large sections of the populace like the Koyas, Mundas, Kandhas, or

Santhals. The term ‘tribal’ was also a way of describing people who had
distinct identities in terms of language, cultural bonds, and religion,
including a certain commonality when it came to their economic life.
As can be seen, this effort to define ‘tribes’ does not preclude features
such as internal social differentiation as well as conflicts. One also
needs to remember that there were large sections of the population
in colonial India that were heavily forest-dependent, but were simul-
taneously involved in other activities, including agriculture. This par-
ticular aspect needs to be located in terms of its transitory logic that
was premised on contradictory pressures. In many ways, these were
connected to the twin pressures of growing encroachments on forests
and the loss of land brought about by the zamindar–sahukar–sarkar
nexus that was based on exploitation and was cradled and defended
by the legal and administrative system introduced by colonialism.
This implied a context that destabilized the agricultural systems of
different tribal communities. In fact, a phenomenon that needs seri-
ous enquiry is the nature of the agricultural practices that remained
transitory, caught as they were between shifting cultivation and forms
of settled agriculture.
COLONIAL CONSTRUCTIONS OF THE ‘ CRIMINAL TRIBE ’
It is also necessary to foreground the manner in which ‘tribes’ and

untouchables/dalits were stereotyped in the past (and indeed continue
to be so in the present). As mentioned earlier, this was a phenom-
enon that marked the triumph of colonial anthropology but was also
conditioned by sections of the colonized who provided the colonial
ethnographers with ‘condensed’ courses on caste and its workings
in Orissa.
These ideas and images were distinctly associated with the crimi-
nalization of the tribes and untouchables/dalits—a feature that has
had a rather long afterlife.14 Alongside, though, it is clear that some
of the ‘features’ associated with these groups today, though seen as
14
The Criminal Tribes Act was first enacted for north India in 1871 and
was subsequently extended to the Bengal Province in 1876.
longstanding features of the past, are relative recent ‘inventions’.

Besides revealing the continuation/dominance of a narrow, prejudiced
mindset, they serve to justify and sustain what can only be seen as the
post-colonial ‘civilising mission’. For instance, as late as the 1960s,
P.K. Bhowmick, an anthropologist, began his study of the Lodha tribals
by boldly noting that ‘the Lodhas of West Bengal, who ... live scattered
in the western jungle-covered tracts of Midnapur ... were designated
as one of the “criminal tribes” till the revocation of the practice by the
Criminal Tribes Act of 1952’.15 Since Lodhas are also found in adjoin-
ing Orissa, Bhowmick’s observations are really noteworthy. While
he admitted that ‘no correct information could be had about them
excepting from Police records’ and that ‘they [had] to face some sort of
social seclusion’, he nevertheless described them as ‘criminal-minded’,
‘extremely poor and at the same time reluctant to do hard labour’, not-
ing that whenever a crime was committed near their settlement,‘they
[were] generally suspected both by the local people and the Police
Officers ... harassed and sent ... for trial’. He cited one particular episode
in 1905, when goods were stolen, the cash spent and the food con-
sumed ‘on the spot’. Noting that the overwhelming majority of those
listed as ‘criminals’ ‘[had] no landed property at all’, he mentioned how
Kanki, a 10-year-old girl who was arrested for stealing a brass cup (in
1953), who confessed to her ‘crime’, had admitted that she had been
starving for two days after which she had stolen the cup and bought
some food after selling it.16 Thus this study, in conveying several bits
of interesting information, together with various omissions, biases,
15 Bhowmick’s survey revealed that out of the twenty-two Lodhas who

changed residence, six did it to find employment, fourteen in order to escape
police oppression, and two because of the fear of witchcraft and ghosts. Their
daily food consumption: at 8 am they ate boiled rice that had been left to soak
overnight, together with chillies and salt, while children ate stale curry or
boiled roots; at 5 pm they consumed rice, pulses, curry, fish or meat, if
available. Men drank small quantities of rice beer after a hard day’s work. See
P.K. Bhowmick, Lodhas of West Bengal: A Socio-Economic Study (Calcutta:
Punthi Pustak, 1963), 1.
16 Out of the forty-nine Lodhas who were arrested for the first crime they
had committed, three were fifteen years, nine were sixteen years and six were
eighteen years old. Bhowmick, Lodhas, ix, 21, 47, 266–8, and 275–6.
and prejudices, can point towards some of the most significant issues
involved in the study of the social exclusion of tribals and untouch-
ables/dalits.
All these prejudiced assumptions can be traced back to colonial
records and clearly reflect the persistence of colonial prejudices and
indicate their long afterlife. For instance, apart from tribes such as the
Lodhas similar criminalization of outcastes like the Panas can be seen
in a colonial report of 1906 on the ‘Pans of Orissa’ submitted by R.
Clarke, the Superintendent of Police at Angul. He observed that ‘the
Gurjat Pan, like his brother in the “Mogulbandi”, is a semi-aborigine.
He calls himself a Hindu and has caste rules, but … he is in fact a
pariah’. He also noted that Panas had theft ‘bred in the bones’ and
though, on being asked about their occupation, they might say that
they were weavers, ‘this [meant] nothing, and sounded better than
saying “I am a thief ”, which would be the truth’.17 Panas possessed
the ‘cunning of the Dom and the physique of the Bhur’, and bore ‘a
very bad reputation among their neighbours; in fact the worst form of
abuse one can offer to a respectable man in the Gurjats is to call him a
Pan’.18 While Clark admitted to the extreme poverty of the Panas, who
were generally ‘landless ... living from hand to mouth’ and were forced
to become ‘wandering criminals’ especially during famines, he never-
theless located their criminality as part of an ‘ancient practice/custom’,
of being a ‘cattle-lifter in neighbouring States, a cattle-poisoner in his
own State, and a pilferer everywhere’. Moreover, although tradition-
ally they had ‘rarely committed burglary, and never dacoity’; however,
with the ‘excellent criminal training … obtained in a central jail’
they had lately ‘taken to gang dacoity with murder’.19 In other words,
Clarke argued that the Panas’ criminal proclivities had been further
17 R. Clark, ‘Pans of Orissa’ ‘Appendix VIII’, in M. Kennedy, Notes on
Criminal Classes in the Bombay Presidency, with Appendices Regarding Some

Foreign Criminals who Occasionally Visit the Presidency, including Hints on
the Detection of Counterfeit Coin (Bombay: Government Central Press, 1908),
324–5.
18 R. Clark, ‘Pans of Orissa’ ‘Appendix VIII’, 1908, 324.
19 R. Clark, ‘Pans of Orissa’ ‘Appendix VIII’, 1908, 325–8. Clark’s final
suggestion was that the Panas should be rehabilitated and some ‘good land’ be
given to them for cultivation.
strengthened in the past couple of decades as they were able to mix

with more seasoned criminals in colonial jails.20
Such attitudes regarding this group continue to exist in post-
colonial times. As late as 1988, for example, a historical survey of
the province of Orissa could describe the Panas as ‘famous for their
criminal activities’.21 Moreover, the Hindu right wing, following the
violence in Kandhamal put the blame squarely on the Christians and
appeared to suggest that this ‘propensity for violence’ arose out of the
fact that groups such as the Panas, who had a strong criminal past,
constituted the majority of new converts to Christianity.
COLONIALISM AND THE SHAPING OF CASTE HIERARCHIES
While it would be unjustified to talk about the absence of a caste

system in pre-colonial Orissa, social historians of pre-colonial Orissa
do refer to the absence of the classic four-fold varna division ‘model’,
arguing that the varna system was a late development in that region
from around the tenth or eleventh century A.D. This was primarily
because of the preponderant tribal population and the geographical
variations in the region (namely, the coastal tract and the hilly/for-
ested interior). As a result, land grants to Brahmins and the extension
of agriculture implied the conversion of most of the tribes into Sudras,
which converged with the process of their peasantization.
Consequently, one witnesses the evolution of two clearly identifi-
able varnas in pre-colonial Orissa—the Brahmins and the Sudras. The
Vaishyas were not really visible in society, though men of property
appropriated this status for themselves. Similarly, the Kshatriyas
never had local roots, and were created in this period of state forma-
tion (namely, from clan to caste society) that saw shifts in the identity
of adivasi chieftains, who invented this category for themselves. As
delineated above, the varna system was a major legitimizing force in
this process of state formation.22
20 R. Clark, ‘Pans of Orissa’ ‘Appendix VIII’, 1908, 325.

21 P.K. Jena, Orissa: A New Province (Calcutta: Punthi Pusthak, 1988), 131.
22 Bhairabi Prasad Sahu, ‘The Brahminical Model Viewed as an Instrument
of Socio-Cultural Change: An Autopsy’, in Proceedings of the Indian History

Congress (New Delhi: Indian History Congress, 1985), 180–92. Swati Datta,
Thus there was a great degree of fluidity and several ‘functional

realities’ that historians talk about. However, over the course of the
nineteenth century, colonial anthropology contributed seminally
toward inventing a varna system through the classification strategies
that began with the taking over of Orissa in 1803–4. The English East
India Company’s effort to acquire knowledge involved upper caste
pundits who provided knowledge/inputs. This was substantially rein-
forced through land settlements and census operations. In addition,
print culture (which began with the missionaries in the 1850s, leading
to the development of the Oriya press by the mid-1860s) sustained
and served to homogenize the process and almost led to the system-
atic creation of an organized varna order and its hierarchies over the
course of the nineteenth century. This served the colonial enterprise of
organizing the region in order to stabilize a range of activities, which
Migrant Brahmanas in Northern India: Their Settlement and General Impact

c. A.D. 475–1030 (New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1989), does refer to the
phenomenon of land grants to Brahmins; what one needs to emphasize here
is that they also emerged in a limited scale from within stratified adivasi
society. Hermann Kulke focuses on the issue of Kshatriyaization in the
context of medieval Orissa and extends its relevance upto the seventeenth–
eighteenth century A.D. He emphasizes this as more useful/relevant than
Brahminization and the functional reality. See Hermann Kulke,
‘Kshatriyaisation and Social Change: A Study in Orissa Setting’, in S.D. Pillai
(ed.), Aspects of Change in India: Studies in Honour of Prof. G.S. Ghurye
(Bombay: Popular Prakashan, 1976). Surajit Sinha, ‘State Formation and the
Rajput Myth in Central India’, in Hermann Kulke (ed.), The State in
India,1000–1700 (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1995) feels that the
diffusion of the Rajput model of the state and the indigenous developmental
processes could gain ground only among those tribal groups who had attained
the technological level of settled agriculture. Sumit Guha, Environment and
Ethnicity in India, 1200–1991 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1999), 110–16, also refers to certain aspects of ‘rajputisation’ affecting some of
the adivasi communities. Interestingly, H. Beverley, in Report on the Census of
Bengal, 1872 (Calcutta: Bengal Secretariat Press, 1872), 193, mentions the
absence of a ‘pure’ Kshatriya caste in Orissa and refers to the Khandaits–
swordsmen–who formed the erstwhile militia and who took their caste from
their profession which corresponds to the military class in the four-fold
division of northern India.
included tapping resources and controlling/administering the region.

Combined with the process of Hinduization and Oriyaization, the
impact of this process was felt in different parts of western (namely,
non-coastal) Orissa. This meant that ideas regarding caste and allied
notions of ‘Otherness’ developed in areas outside the coastal tract,
where they had been rather fluid earlier. It is partly in this connec-
tion that I have focused (in the previous section) on a host of typical
stereotypical images associated with tribals and outcastes/dalits.
In fact, Orissa’s colonization polarized the social stratification, and
implied a consolidation of exploitation, power and dominance by the
upper castes, such as the Brahmins, Karanas, and the Khandayats
(the Orissan variant of the Kshatriyas). Simultaneously, it led to an
increasing marginalization of the adivasis, low castes, and outcastes
(or untouchables). This becomes particularly relevant if we bear in
mind that the western hilly region, for example, had (and continues
to have) a large tribal and outcaste population. Most of the tribals and
low castes/outcastes worked as agricultural labourers, some of them
as bonded or forced labourers. Besides this, they were dispossessed of
the age old ‘customary’ rights that they had had over natural resources,
such as forests.
It is here that the idea of ‘humiliation’ becomes important for
us. For the social historian the categories of class and caste appear
to both veil and reinforce each other at the same time. Unpacking
these categories involves an engagement that could possibly highlight
the oppressive and exploitative components associated with both.
Nevertheless, the foregrounding of humiliation in the Orissan/Indian
social context is distinctly associated with caste and social exclu-
sion, involving especially the outcastes/dalits and also the tribals.
Humiliation can be traced back to the nineteenth century itself and
has to be understood or unveiled by paying greater attention to very
complex/nuanced forms of action. With major movements—in many
cases led by the Kisan Sangha and the Communists in the early
twentieth century—the problem of fear and intimidation did get
somewhat neutralized but these movements themselves were made
possible through the struggles of the exploited. At the same time, the
Orissa States Enquiry Committee Reports discussed the way in which
some individuals came forward to articulate the humiliation they
faced in states such as Mayurbhanj and Nilgiri.
Additionally, another dimension (that will be more closely

scrutinized in Chapters 3 and 5 of this book) relates to the prob-
lems associated with the creation of upper caste hegemony and its
contestation. The logic of hegemony, going by Gramscian ideas,
implies its contestation as well. Very often social historians discuss
the logic of hegemony as a structure that is carved in stone. As is
well known, serious efforts were made—through active collabora-
tion and participation of the zamindars, princes, and the colonial
ruling classes—to dominate the tribals and outcastes/dalits in
order to, among other things, obtain cheap labour force and tap
the resources of the region. Nevertheless, what eludes social his-
torians is the manner in which the oppressed social order often
sought to contest and alter these systems of control/domination in
various ways.
Indeed, there is often a tendency within scholarship to focus
entirely on the issues of domination and resistance, as a result
of which several aspects of the lives of subjugated groups do
not receive the attention they deserve. This book will attempt
to provide a corrective to this larger tendency. For example, as
Chapter 4 of this book shows, tribal healing practices/beliefs
were quite complex, even though it is often assumed that socially
excluded sections lived in a world of ‘darkness’ and ‘superstition’.
As a result of such stereotypes, there is often little engagement
with various significant issues that had a major impact on their
lives. These need to be rescued on the basis of the oral traditions
and folktales that were intimately connected with the shifts
and changes over the course of the nineteenth century. Thus,
on looking more closely at practices like inoculation and ‘black
magic’, one discovers that these practices were connected to the
everyday lives of socially excluded sections, and were the outcome
of a situation where they were also exposed to the processes of
both colonialism and Hinduization. In fact, colonialism’s ‘medical
gaze’ made targets out of a large mass of people—a phenomenon
that also conditioned the perceptions of the privileged sections.
How did the effort to regulate and ‘sanitise’ Indian society actu-
ally work when it came to the tribals and the untouchables/dalits?
Developments over the course of the nineteenth century, espe-
cially, provide some clues to this question.
THE SOCIALLY EXCLUDED AND THE ORIYA MIDDLE CLASS
Another significant dimension involves the interactions between the

excluded social groups and the Oriya middle class. In fact, what has
remained relatively ignored is the emergence of the Oriya middle class
and its interactions with the oppressed social order. The intensifica-
tion of colonial urbanization led to the emergence of the Oriya middle
class, but the peculiarities of the colonial situation, together with rem-
nants of a feudal past, led to them having a distinct perspective on
the world. In many ways their ideas echoed the dominant narrative
that was distinctly aligned with the colonial perspective. This gained
increasing currency following the emergence of print culture. At the
same time, their perspective was also riven with contradictory beliefs
and ideas—humanistic beliefs which could, for example, genuinely
coexist with a firm and unshakeable faith in the virtues of the class or
caste order. The growth of colonial urbanization and the emergence of
the Oriya middle class can be traced to the latter half of the nineteenth
century. Its association with the colonial and feudal system fettered its
vision. In many ways its ideas echoed the predominant thinking that
was aligned with the colonial world. Over the 1870s and 1920s vari-
ous interactive processes shaped its positions vis-à-vis the oppressed
social groups.
A general fear of the popular masses, combined with a serious bond
with the upper caste/class and colonial/feudal order, led to the middle
class frequently spewing venom against the tribals and untouchables.
What seems invisibilized by historians is the manner in which this
insensitivity was marked by a distinct level of continuity because of
its intimate association with the upper castes, the feudal order, and
the coastal tract. Thus, even though the Swadeshi Movement under-
mined its pro-colonial sympathies, the middle class’ ideas of reform
remained silent about the oppressed and socially excluded. Thus, its
focus—besides the ‘unification’ of the ‘Orissa province’—incorporated
the idea of the creation of an alternative ‘indigenous’ education system
(namely, the Satyabadi Bana Bidyalaya), which was clearly marked by
upper caste exclusiveness.
Nevertheless, this was obviously not something that was uniform.
Thus, at times even its efforts to save its own identity were undermined
by colonialism and the feudal order. Hence, its own need to carve
out an imagined geographical space for itself also made the middle
class sometimes responsive to the oppressed communities. Partly as
a result of all this, it did at times display a humanistic concern for
the oppressed social groups, even while it demonstrated a remarkable
level of insensitivity vis-à-vis these sections.
The development of the Communist movement in Orissa over the
1930s saw the growth of major anti-imperialist/feudal movements,
with which it was intimately involved. This led to serious questions
being posed. Indeed, political developments over the first three
decades of the twentieth century did impact the Oriya middle class.
This was possible with sections of the Oriya middle class getting meta-
morphozed by the dialectics of the political and social context, even
though this was predominantly from among the upper-caste groups.23
Some of these core issues are taken up when discussing the broader
issue of class discrimination and the idea of resistance in Chapters
5 and 6. The interactions of the Kisan Sabha and the Prajamandal
Movement with the world of the tribals and the untouchables/dalits
also meant large-scale involvement of the oppressed sections in these
movements in some of the zamindaris and princely states. What
needs to be highlighted are the shifts that took place which narrowed
the cultural and intellectual gap between the tribals and dalits and
the privileged sections who belonged to the middle classes and came
predominantly from the upper castes. Nevertheless, even as this
strengthened and consolidated the mass base of both the national
movement and the communist movement, the primary focus on
class most often meant that issues associated with caste discrimina-
tion and exclusion vis-à-vis tribals and especially dalits were ignored.
In fact, although not realized at that critical historical juncture, this
was a lacuna that weakened the movements led by the communists
and served to reinforce the hegemony of the Gandhi-led national
movement in Orissa—something that we examine more closely in
Chapter 6.
23
For details Biswamoy Pati, ‘Creativity and the Left Cultural Movement
in Orissa’, in Sitaram Yechury (ed.), The Progressive Cultural Movement:
A Critical History (New Delhi: Sahmat, 2017), 110–21. As discussed, it came
to a halt around 1938 and was carried forward by people like Sachidananda
Routroy and Ananta Patnaik in the 1940s.
MIDDLE CLASS LITERARY PRODUCTIONS AND CLASS / CASTE

CONTRADICTIONS
One of the sources that provide a glimpse into these issues are the lit-
erary productions of those who upheld and defended the upper caste/
class order. These literary productions were very vital to legitimizing,
preserving, and perpetuating social exclusion. As an example we can
refer to Fakirmohana Senapati (1843–1918) who, as the assistant man-
ager of the princely state of Keonjhar, had crushed what is labelled as
the Bhuyan meli (uprising) of Keonjhar (1891–2).24 Along with upper
caste/class Oriya memory virtually celebrating Fakirmohana’s ‘brain
power’ and ‘victory’, one witnesses the development of stereotypical
images associated with the Bhuyan tribals in Oriya literary tracts
(since the early years of the twentieth century) that drew upon this
encounter.25
Despite such systematic marginalization, however, it was not as if
the socially excluded sections or the imagination of the plebeian tra-
dition, ranging from Bhima Bhoi to creative writers like Gangadhar
Meher, were entirely absent in the thinking of the privileged sections
of colonial Orissan society. One can see the way in which this devel-
oped over the period between the 1850s and 1940s—from the time
of Fakirmohana (late nineteenth century), through Gopabandhu,
Kalindi Charana Panigrahi, and Bhagabati Charana Panigrahi, to
24 In fact, besides the participation of the Juangs, other non-tribal

people of Keonjhar were largely sympathetic to it; besides the meli
attracted the state people of neighbouring states like Bonai, Singhbhum,
and Mayurbhanj.
25 What needs emphasis here is the manner in which Fakirmohana’s
description of the Bhuyans. See Fakirmohana Senapati, AtmaJibanCharita

(Cuttack: Jagannatha Ratha, 1965 (1927), chap. 19). Here he describes them
as ‘born trouble makers’, who were ‘hard-drinking’, ‘ignorant savages’, ‘cruel’,
‘vicious’ and ‘stupid’ these match the colonial stereotyping of the tribals.
Equally significant is the manner in which this perception stabilized in other
Oriya tracts. See, for example, Keshab Chandra Mishra, Bhuyan Jati (Cuttack,
1925), India Office Records, British Library, London; and subsequent writings
of scholars like Mayadhara Mansingh, History of Oriya Literature (New Delhi:
Sahitya Akademi, 1962), 171–2.
even colonial officials such as Gopinath Mohanty writing in the

1940s.26
The Prajamandal and the Kisan Sabha Movement, popular upris-
ings, and anti-imperialist/feudal struggles created an alternative
space which had an impact on middle-class thinking. The creative
literary productions of people like Bhagabati Charan Panigrahi and
Sachidananda Routroy clearly illustrate this process. Their writ-
ings indicated serious possibilities for interrogating social exclu-
sion. ‘Shikar’ (‘The Hunt’; 1936), probably Bhagabati Charan’s finest
short story, opens with Ghinua, a Santhal, arriving at the Deputy
Commissioner’s residence, and demanding baksheesh (reward) for
a human head—the head of Govind Sardar, the hated landlord—for
he had been rewarded for the heads of other fearful animals on two
previous occasions. The ‘white man’ is shocked at this logic and has
him arrested, and thus begins Ghinua’s trauma as he fails to grasp
what crime he has actually committed. He refuses to believe anyone
who tells him that he would be punished. The Deputy Commissioner
tells him that he had been given baksheesh (reward) for killing wild
animals in the past but he had killed a man this time, so five people
have to decide what baksheesh he would get. Ghinua is quite happy
with this explanation.
On the day of the trial Ghinua thinks he would get his baksheesh.
He narrates details of how he had killed Govind Sardar, who was
dreaded more than the most ferocious wild animal in the tract.
According to Ghinua’s testimony, Sardar had amassed a lot of
wealth by looting and dispossessing others; he had killed and
raped innumerable people. He had also dispossessed Ghinua and
had attempted to rape his wife. Ghinua recalls how a co-villager
had been richly rewarded some years ago for beheading Jhatpat
Singh, who was a rebel. Simply reasoning that Jhatpat Singh was,
after all, a good man who neither raped nor plundered like Govind
Sardar, he confidently demands a greater reward. Instead, he is
awarded the death sentence. As he is led out to be hanged, Ghinua
26
For a detailed discussion of these writings, see ‘Documenting the
Peasant: Images in Oriya Literature of the 1930s’, Chapter 4, in Biswamoy Pati,
Situating Social History: Orissa, 1800–1997 (New Delhi: Orient Longman,
2001), 83–98.
is left unable to comprehend why killing Jhatpat Singh and Govind

Sardar are not the same thing.
Then there is Sachi Routroy’s ‘Masani Phula’ (‘The Flower of the
Cremation Ground’; 1940)—a sensitive story about a pregnant widow
who dies after giving birth to a child. Everyone showers curses on
this unknown ‘fallen’ woman and no one is prepared to perform her
last rites. It finally falls to the lot of Jagu Tihadi, a Brahmin respon-
sible for the burning of dead bodies in the cremation ground—who,
along with some friends, takes the widow’s dead body to the crema-
tion ground to perform the last rites. The villagers ask Jagu to keep
the nose ring worn by the dead widow as payment for her cremation
but he refuses to take it and throws it into the flames, expressing
his disgust with the village folk who could not understand a fellow
human being.
One needs to note that while the exploitation of tribals is clearly
negotiated and critiqued in the story, the theme of caste, especially
caste exploitation and humiliation, seems to have been largely over-
looked or evaded. Besides, the level of innocence which is associated
with Ghinua’s lack of comprehension appears a bit far-fetched and
romanticized, especially if one keeps in mind the Santhal huls (rebel-
lions) over the nineteenth century and the rebellion that is usually
labelled as Birsa Munda’s rebellion. As for caste, one can even venture
to add that it was perhaps elided in the tract. How else would one
explain Sachi Routroy choosing a Brahmin and not an untouchable
Domb to cremate the dead widow? The focus instead is on bourgeois
humanism through the thoughts of Jagu Tihadi about the sexually
exploited widow who had died at child birth.
TOWARDS A CRITIQUE OF THE HISTORIOGRAPHY

OF THE SOCIALLY EXCLUDED
The Trinity of ‘Nationalism’, ‘Integration’, and ‘Identity’

One also needs to be aware of the diversity of ways in which the his-
toriography of Orissa has generally studied and situated tribals and
outcastes/dalits. In this context, it needs to be mentioned that early
Orissan historiography was traditionally dominated by a focus on
the coastal tract as well as on the middle class/upper caste sections
of society. Drawing directly upon a part of imperialist historiogra-

phy that demonized the tribals (the other strand being the one that
romanticized them), this perhaps illustrates the boundary that early
nationalist historiography refused to transgress. There were also
underlying fears regarding the oppressed groups who could unsettle
the dominant order of caste. This provides insights into understand-
ing the manner in which the ruling classes in independent India have
sought to negotiate with the tribals and untouchables/dalits, while
implicitly invoking the ‘civilising mission’ as one of their central agen-
das. In this sense, even after independence, the ‘civilising mission’ that
we hear about with regard to colonial India continues to remain very
much a part of a serious project of the Oriya (and the Indian) ruling
classes.
In fact, given its combined power, it is not surprising that the foot-
prints of this kind of thinking—which synthesized certain aspects of
imperialist and nationalist historiography—have survived up to the
present time. This trend was reinforced by a generation of histori-
ans who worked on Orissa after India’s independence. They began
by ‘riding’ the trinity of nationalism, identity, and ‘integration’, that
virtually defined the new nation state. Seen in this context, there is
a serious need to examine the range of research that has developed.
This includes scholarly efforts that have only succeeded in Hinduizing
Orissa, making it synonymous with Puri/Jagannatha and coastal
Orissa. At the same time, re-inventions of the sophisticated nationalist
historiography also need to be examined in some detail.
After Independence historians working on Orissa focused on
issues of ‘nationalism’, ‘integration’ and ‘identity’, while the history
of the socially excluded tribals and untouchables/dalits remained
invisible. It was the combined power of this mode of thinking that
dominated aspects of imperialist and nationalist historiography.
This also meant externalizing the solution to what were seen as his-
torical problems. The most well-known component in this was the
location of the ‘Bengali’ as the major villain responsible for all the
ills of Orissa.
Added to all this was the trivialization of the historian’s craft.
One can cite here, for example, the five volumes of the History of
Freedom Movement in Orissa that was overseen by H.K. Mahtab as
an editor, which perhaps illustrate the basic point that I am trying
to make.27 These volumes lacked a sense of history and focused on

reproducing documents selectively in order to cater to an agenda
that strategically aimed to locate the national movement ‘from above’
and ignore everything that did not conform to the Congress as the
‘historic block’. If one were to delineate Mahtab’s perceptions of
the tribals and untouchables/dalits, a classic example would be to cite
the way in which he denied tribals a philosophy of existence. He noted,
for example, that ‘I use the word tribes as it is used to denote those
sections of the people … who have … [no] philosophy of life’.28
Needless to say, the socially excluded appeared only in the course of
rebellions. This trend dominated the way in which historians located
the socially excluded for a long time to come. It set into motion
ideas related to misplaced identities, veiling contradictions, and
hegemonizing (as well as homogenizing) the socially excluded.
The entry in the 1970s of the Orissa Research Programme (here-
after ORP) funded by the German Research Council, which was
charged with German ‘Indology’, marked a major watershed as far
as Orissan historiography is concerned.29 Besides experimenting
with new methods and sources, it altered the paradigms related to
Orissan history. However, seen from the perspective of this book, it
appeared to reinforce the ‘unholy trinity’ in a very significant way.
One of its major consequences was that it contributed significantly
to Hinduizing Orissa and to integrating the region with the cult of
Jagannatha, providing an identity that almost rendered Orissa and
Jagannatha synonymous with each other. Scholars like G.N. Dash
located the origins of ‘Oriya nationalism’ in terms of developments
associated with people like the Panchasakhas (the ‘five friends’),
even as he acknowledged that Jagannatha Das (who translated the
Mahabharata into Oriya) was looked down upon as a person of the
27 H.K. Mahtab (ed.), History of the Freedom Movement on Orissa,
Vol. I–V (Cuttack: Committee for the Compilation of the Freedom Movement
in Orissa, 1957).
28 Cited in P.C. Mahapatra and D. Panda (eds.), Tribal Problems of Today
and Tomorrow (Bhubaneshwar: Sabari Cultural Society, 1980), 14.

29 For details about the ORP I (1969–75) and ORP II (1999–2005), see
Introduction, Uwe Skoda and Biswamoy Pati (eds.), Highland Odisha: Life
and Society Beyond the Coastal World (New Delhi: Primus, 2017), 10–13.
Oilmen (Teli) caste. References to Jagannatha being a ‘Hindu deity’,

the imagined/non-existent ‘Orissan empire’ and ‘Oriya nationalism’
were projected as a part of a collective consciousness or ‘common
sense’. To quote Dash: ‘It is quite significant that most of the advocates
of Hindu and Indian nationalism were also themselves champions of
Oriya nationalism’.30 One can also refer here to the way in which the
idea of ‘Oriya nationalism’ influenced scholars like Nivedita Mohanty
and, much later, Bishnu Mohapatra.31 Problems related to the social
origins of its leaders, and the way in which this ‘nation’ denied any
space whatsoever to the socially excluded tribals and untouchables/
dalits, did not seem to matter at all. Having said that, I would add
that the ORP I and its contribution was a mixed bag. Thus, it had
components that contained transgressive possibilities, was based on
inter-disciplinary research, and contained areas that did not strictly
adhere to the prescribed framework, at least as far as colonial Orissa
was concerned. One can refer here to the tribal/non-tribal interaction
and efforts to document the popular/plebeian order.
The 1980s also saw efforts by historians like Sadasib Pradhan to
tap into new sources like the Prajamandal Private Papers (available at
the Nehru Memorial Museum and Library, New Delhi). This marked
a significant break, even though it demarcated the ‘domain of politics’
from the world of the States’ people, following an established colonial
method of surgical demarcation between the ‘political’ and ‘agrarian’
when it focused on popular movements.32
30G.N. Dash, ‘Jagannatha and Oriya Nationalism’, in Eschmannet et al.

(eds.), The Cult, 371. Dash continued to develop this method and went on to
quote Hunter approvingly about Orissa being the ‘holy land’ of the Hindus for
‘two thousand years’; the importance attached to Jagannatha in the ‘whole
Hindu world’; and how ‘paradoxically’ some scholars ‘claim’ that Jagannatha is
of tribal origin; G.N. Dash, Hindus and Tribals: Quest for a Co-existence (Social
Dynamics in Medieval Orissa) (New Delhi: Decent Books, 1989), 12; 15–16.
31 Nivedita Mohanty, Oriya Nationalism: Quest for a United Orissa, 1866–
1936 (New Delhi: Manohar, 1982); Bishnu N. Mohapatra, ‘Ways of

“Belonging”: The Kanchi Kaveri Legend and the Construction of Oriya
Identity’, Studies in History, vol. 12, no. 2 (1996), 203–22.
32 Sadasiba Pradhan, Agrarian and Political Movements: States of Orissa
1931–1949 (New Delhi: Inter-India Publications, 1986).

My own efforts to rectify this slant and bring the marginalized

people of Orissa, the tribals and peasants to the foreground, began
in the early 1990s with Resisting Domination: Peasants, Tribals and
the National Movement in Orissa, 1920–1950 (1993). In this study
I had sought to examine their culture, folklore, world-view as
well as political participation. This has been followed by my other
interventions.33
From the late 1990s, the work of ORP II marked a significant
shift in historiography. Indeed, it made major strides in terms of
harmonizing inter-disciplinary research and exploring regions
beyond the coastal tract. Whereas the former led to serious anthro-
pological engagement, the latter saw the accommodation of the
‘margins’ in a big way. Here, I would specifically refer to Tina Otten
and her work on the Ronas, and to Uwe Skoda who has worked on
the Agarias.34 Otten provides insights into complexities associated
with the illness/disease and medicine of the Ronas, which gives us
vital clues to grasp the colonial past. Skoda’s work offers fascinating
possibilities for a social historian working on the marginal people
of colonial Orissa. The significance of this shift is also visible in
the way Georg Pfeffer has shifted the focus of his research from
the Brahmins of Puri in ORPI to interrogating and contesting the
stereotypical image of the ‘barbaric’ Kandhas and their ‘love’ for
human sacrifice.
Nevertheless, some continuities are also discernible when
it comes to the engagements with Dirks and his idea of ‘little
kingdoms’.35 Applied to the Orissan context, it saw an essentializing
of the Bansabalis (princely dynastic accounts) and the revival of an
33 Biswamoy Pati, Resisting Domination: Peasants, Tribals and the National
Movement in Orissa, 1920–1950 (New Delhi: Manohar, 1993).

34 Tina Otten, ‘ “Given by God” and “Come by Itself ”: Concepts of Illness
among the Rona’, and Uwe Skoda, ‘Death among the Aghria: Death and the
Continuity of Life in a Peripheral Mixed Tribal and Caste Society’, in Gorg
Pfeffer (ed.), Periphery and the Centre: Studies in Orissan Religion and
Anthropology (New Delhi: Manohar, 2007), 173–97, 223–48.
35 Nicholas B. Dirks, The Hollow Crown, Ethnohistory of an Indian
Kingdom (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987).

imagined, non-existent, princely past. This led to ORP II invoking it

as it supposedly heralded a ‘marriage’ between the historian and the
anthropologist. The methodological problems of the ‘little kingdom’
model are many, but I would highlight two basic features: firstly the
problematic way in which it fuses politics, religion, and power; and
secondly the manner in which it locates power as a predominantly
cultural entity. However, more importantly, its application is marked
by grievous anomalies for the discipline of history. Nothing illus-
trates this better than the work of Burkhard Schnepel. Besides seeing
Orissa through the Hindu/Muslim prism and projecting the Jeypore
zamindari as a ‘jungle kingdom’, with the ‘king living permanently in
the jungle’, he unquestioningly takes up a bansabali written in 1938
as a source and, using what he calls the historian’s ‘creative imagina-
tion’, tells us a story that appears to reflect a post-oriental ‘Orientalist’
paradigm.36
In another monograph by Georg Berkemar and Margret Frenz,
which seeks to apply this model, Chandi Nanda has written a piece
on the Keonjhar meli. Nanda’s work appears to be resistant to the
deeper features of exploitation as he ‘validates’ Dirks. His boundary of
enquiry is premised on the idea of the installation of Dharani as ‘king’
when he examines the rebellion (namely, ‘Bhuyan meli’). As a result,
he fails to explain why sections of the Juangas and other non-tribal
groups of the State,37 as well as the States’ people from some adjoin-
ing regions (namely Bonai, Singhbhoom and Mayurbhanj), rallied in
support of the meli.38 Moreover, how far is it possible for a study that
focuses on the installation ceremony to allow us a clear understand-
ing of a powerful rebellion where the socially excluded united with
non-tribals?
36
Burkhard Schnepel, The Jungle Kings: Ethnohistorical Aspects of Politics
and Ritual in Orissa (New Delhi: Manohar, 2002).
37 The word ‘State’ is often used in this monograph as a shorthand to refer
to princely states.
38 Chandi Prasad Nanda, ‘Validating “Tradition”: Revisiting Keonjhar
and Bhuiyan Insurgency in Colonial Orissa’, in Georg Berkemer and Margret

Frenz (eds.), Sharing Sovereignty: The Little Kingdoms in South Asia (Berlin:
Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 2003), 205–20.
Efforts at Consolidation of the Nationalist Paradigm

Simultaneously, one witnesses some efforts to consolidate the nation-
alist paradigm. Here I would like to include K.M. Patra’s essay on
the link between the growth of national consciousness and the free-
dom movement.39 A.C. Pradhan’s work on the Nilgiri Prajamandal
Movement, though incorporating oral testimonies, ignored some of
the local material published by the activists of the Movement and
also the papers of the Orissa State Peoples’ Movement.40 Similarly,
studies by Pritish Acharya and Chandi Prasad Nanda on the National
movement in Orissa contain some typical problems.41 Acharya’s work
is based on newspapers, which present a rather one-sided picture
when it comes to the history of the socially excluded. Nanda’s work
dips into a wide range of sources and does touch upon the socially
excluded, but he does not grapple with the intricacies and complexi-
ties of social exclusion when it comes to the national movement in
Orissa. Similarly, Susanta Kumar Bag’s study, besides containing fac-
tual inaccuracies, is also resistant to the socially excluded.42 Together
these studies reflect a sort of insecurity of the socially excluded, even
as they boldly celebrate what can be called history ‘from above’ and
consolidate the nationalist framework.
The ‘Subaltern’ Alternative?

An attempt to provide an alternative ‘subaltern’ framework has been
made by Ishita Banerjee Dube, who has written for the Subaltern
39 K.M. Patra, ‘Growth of National Consciousness and the Freedom

Movement in Orissa’, Indian Historical Review, vol. XII, nos. 1–2 (1985–6),
317–27.
40 A.C. Pradhan, ‘People’s Movement in the Princely States of Orissa in
the Wider Context of the Nationalist Movement: A Case Study of the Nilgiri
State’, in Y. Vaikuntham (ed.), People’s Movements in the Princely States (New
Delhi: Manohar, 2004), 197–211.
41 Pritish Acharya, National Movement and Politics in Orissa, 1920–1929
(New Delhi: Sage, 2008); Chandi Prasad Nanda, Vocalizing Silence: Political
Protests in Orissa, 1930–42 (New Delhi: Sage, 2008).
42 Susanta Kumar Bag, Colonial State, Agrarian Transition and Popular
Protest in Orissa 1921–1947 (New Delhi: Primus, 2015).

Studies series. Her basic effort has been to locate the ‘subaltern’ com-
ponent in the act of the Mahima Dharma’s followers entering the
temple at Puri in March 1881 with the intention of taking out the idols
of the ‘trinity’ and burning them.43 Banerjee Dube’s dependence on
Oriya newspapers and the official (colonial) reports clearly make her
a victim of ‘elite’ opinion of the upper castes who saw doomsday when
this incident took place. In fact, her argument that twelve men and
three women who were unarmed attempted this ‘subaltern revolt’
clearly shows that her intervention is distinctly elitist when it comes
to the socially excluded ‘Others’.
One needs to perhaps outline the need to look at alternative pos-
sibilities by incorporating an inter-disciplinary method and by also
looking at colonial Orissa in a more holistic fashion. Besides, there is a
need to probe the ways in which the socially excluded and marginalized
orders interacted with the diverse movements during the post-1920s
period. Going beyond the binaries of the ‘all-in-unity against imperial-
ism’ and the method of ‘popular autonomy’, which would (if applied
to oppressed groups) argue that they had virtually nothing to do with
‘elite’ politics associated with Gandhian nationalism, what needs to
be recognized is that the period of nationalism initiated a discourse
whereby exclusiveness emerged as a hegemonic component even while
inclusiveness appeared to be vital to the appeal of this politics.
Simultaneously, one needs to grapple with the way the sahukar–
zamindar–sarkar nexus impacted the tribals, untouchables, and
dalits, the question of dispossession/migration, and the process of
politicization and resistance. One also has to factor in crucial features
associated with certain problems within the household of the socially
excluded. These ranged from the imposition of restrictions through
forest laws (that produced massive problems, such as the undermin-
ing of the medicinal system) and the manufacture of liquor, to the
resistance to women being awarded land rights, which saw patriarchal
forces attempting to re-assert themselves through practices such as
witch-hunting.
43
Ishita Banerjee Dube, ‘Taming Traditions: Legalities and Histories in
Twentieth-Century Orissa’, in Gautam Bhadra, Gyan Prakash, and Susie
Tharu (eds.), Subaltern Studies X: Writings on South Asian History and Society
(New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1999), 98–125.
Consequently, one has to go way beyond the colonial/anti-colonial

theme to grapple with areas of social exclusion. This would enable
us to get a more rounded picture without romanticizing anything
and will also allow us to analyse the scope and the basis of the
apparent anti-colonial ‘outbursts’ more effectively. Further, there is a
need not just to stress factors associated with the creation of upper
caste hegemony but also its contestation (examined in Chapter 5 of
this book).
At the same time, a social historian cannot but observe a pattern
of distinct continuities between the colonial and post-colonial. The
post-1947 officialdom comprising the Oriya ‘brown sahibs’ perfected
the art of continuing with colonial institutions/practices. As instru-
ments of a free country and a state that began its tryst with the idea
of integration and incorporation, some minor departures did take
place, but if we look at some of the policies, the fears and insecurities
of the common people survived. One can illustrate this by citing the
way in which inhabitants of the Bonda hills, a region which remained
isolated until the 1960s, perceived the Orissa government’s enforce-
ment of revenue settlements which were closely connected to the
post-colonial ‘civilising mission’.44 In fact, the magnitude and level of
the barbarism inflicted on the world of the tribals and untouchables/
dalits—given its polarized class/caste content—is in many ways more
ruthless in this post, post-modern twenty-first century. The pres-
sures on these sections for instance have been further aggravated
by the contradictions of ‘development’ in western Orissa. This hilly
western region with its rich mineral deposits has witnessed ruthless
displacement and dispossession of tribals by mining companies with
remarkable names like Vedanta or even by ‘clean’ companies such as
the Tatas.45
44 Oral evidence from the Bonda Hills in the erstwhile Jeypur zamindari.
45 On 2 January 2006, a thousand tribals had gathered at Kalinganagar to
oppose the construction of the boundary wall of Tata Steel. Twelve platoons
of armed police fired upon them, killing twelve tribals. The bodies of five of
the victims were returned to their families by the Jajpur district administration
with their palms chopped off. The Commission appointed to probe into the
police firing later gave them a clean chit.
It is the interface and dialectics of these complex dimensions that

I seek to probe in this book. One needs to perhaps see the fluidities
between the past and the present in Orissa, especially when it comes
to certain areas associated with oppressed and excluded social groups.
This will allow us to understand the ways in which certain notions of
the present are projected on to a non-existent past. After all, it needs to
be emphasized that, whether it is the murder of Graham Staines and
his two small children, or the organized brutal murders and rapes
of Christians (dalit converts) including nuns, in the Kandhamals,
or individual cases of discrimination, or the violence and atrocities
unleashed on tribals and dalits on a daily basis, there exists a ‘demo-
cratic’ consensus on how the socially excluded (or those who work
amongst them) are to be perceived.46
In exploring these difficult questions, it is necessary to draw upon
a wide range of archives and sources. This work draws upon materials
available at the Orissa and West Bengal State Archives, the National
Library (Calcutta), the Nehru Memorial Library Museum, the Central
Secretariat Library, and the British Library (especially the ‘Vernacular
Tracts’ collection). It also looks at Oriya and English newspapers, and
the Official Reports and Publications that are available in many of
the repositories mentioned above. Additionally, the oral traditions/
folklores and printed texts that reproduce them are another valuable
source, together with oral testimonies. Oriya language sources assume
a serious significance far beyond documenting certain aspects related
to lives and times of the excluded social groups. However, one needs
to be cautious about incorporating the accounts and reports when
writing about the socially excluded sections, as they pose a major
challenge both for the historian and her/his craft.
Needless to say, focusing on the issue of social exclusion offers a
way of rescuing voices that are difficult to hear and narratives that lie
submerged. A host of serious efforts have been made in recent years
46 On 22 January 1999, Australian missionary Graham Staines and his
two small sons were brutally burned alive while sleeping in their station
wagon, by right-wing extremists at Manoharpur, Keonjhar. Among the worst
attacks on Christians was in Kandhamal in August 2008, when right wing
Hindutva activists went on the rampage, attacking churches, looting property
raping, and killing Christians (mostly dalit converts).
Another random document with
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regulates and guides their actions, makes them submit to the
judgment of the most capable, moves them to live and act together,
teaches them to form communities for the weal or woe of the
individual, to share joy and sorrow, good fortune and misfortune,
safety and danger, plenty and scarcity,—in other words, to form an
alliance based on reciprocity—which teaches them to employ
powers and means not theirs by inheritance, and, finally, presses
into their hands weapons with which Nature did not supply them.
Passions of all kinds, it is true, often gain a victory over their
circumspection; but these very passions are proof of the liveliness of
their sensations, or, what comes to the same thing, of their mental
activity. They are as susceptible as children, as irritable as weak-
minded men, and thus very sensitive to every kind of treatment they
may receive; to love and dislike, to encouraging praise and chilling
blame, to pleasant flattery and wounding ridicule, to caresses and
chastisement. Nevertheless they are not so easily managed, still less
so easily trained to anything, as a dog or any other clever domestic
animal, for they are self-willed in a high degree, and almost as
conceited as human beings. They learn without difficulty, but only
when they wish to, and by no means always when they ought to, for
their self-conceit rebels against any submission which they do not
see to be to their own advantage. They are quite aware that they are
liable to be punished, and may loudly express their disapprobation of
the expected chastisement beforehand, yet still refuse to do what is
required of them; while, on the other hand, they will execute it
willingly and with the liveliest expressions of understanding, when
the task happens to suit their humour. Whoever ventures to doubt
their self-esteem has only to watch their way of treating other
animals. Unless terrified by their strength and dangerousness, they
invariably regard other animals as playthings, whether they tease
them and play tricks upon them, or fondle them and load them with
caresses.
Some examples, for which I myself can vouch, or which I know to be
thoroughly authentic, may strengthen the assertions I have just
made.
As I was travelling in Bogosland, on my first ride into the mountains I
fell in with a large band of the Hamadryas baboons, referred to by
Sheikh Kemal el Din Demiri in his narrative. Drying their streaming
hair in the sunshine, they sat picturesquely grouped on the highest
points of a cliff, and, on being greeted with rifle bullets, they beat an
organized retreat and fled. Continuing my journey through the
narrow, winding, rocky valley of the Mensa, I came upon them some
time later, this time in the valley itself, just as they were preparing to
ascend the rocky wall of the other side to seek safety from such
annoying disturbances. A considerable number had already crossed
the valley; the majority were in the act of crossing. Our dogs,
beautiful, slender greyhounds, accustomed to fight successfully with
hyænas and other beasts of prey, rushed towards the baboons,
which, from a distance, looked more like beasts of prey than
monkeys, and drove them hastily up the precipices to right and left.
But only the females took to flight; the males, on the other hand,
turned to face the dogs, growled, beat the ground fiercely with their
hands, opened their mouths wide and showed their glittering teeth,
and looked at their adversaries so furiously and maliciously that the
hounds, usually bold and battle-hardened, shrank back discomfited,
and almost timidly sought safety beside us. Before we had
succeeded in stirring them up to show fight, the position of the
monkeys had changed considerably, and when the dogs charged a
second time nearly all the herd were in safety. But one little monkey
about half a year old had been left behind. It shrieked loudly as the
dogs rushed towards it, but succeeded in gaining the top of a rock
before they had arrived. Our dogs placed themselves cleverly, so as
to cut off its retreat, and we hoped that we might be able to catch it.
But that was not to be. Proudly and with dignity, without hurrying in
the least, or paying any heed to us, an old male stepped down from
the security of the rocks towards the hard-pressed little one, walked
towards the dogs without betraying the slightest fear, held them in
check with glances, gestures, and quite intelligible sounds, slowly
climbed the rock, picked up the baby-monkey, and retreated with it,
before we could reach the spot, and without the visibly disconcerted
dogs making the slightest attempt to prevent him. While the patriarch
of the troop performed this brave and self-sacrificing deed, the other
members, densely crowded on the cliff, uttered sounds which I had
never before heard from baboons. Old and young, males and
females, roared, screeched, snarled, and bellowed all together, so
that one would have thought they were struggling with leopards or
other dangerous beasts. I learned later that this was the monkeys’
battle-cry: it was intended obviously to intimidate us and the dogs,
possibly also to encourage the brave old giant, who was running into
such evident danger before their eyes.[72]
Fig. 45.—Old Baboon Rescuing Young One.
A few days later I learned by experience that these self-reliant

animals are a match even for men. On our return from the
Bogosland, we fell in with a large herd, possibly the same one, and
we opened fire upon them from the valley with seven double rifles.
Our shots had an indescribable effect. The same battle-cry which I
had heard before rang out again, and, as if at the command of a
general, they prepared for resistance. While the screaming females
with the young ones fled in all haste over the crest of the rock
beyond range of our guns, the adult males, casting furious glances,
beating the ground with their hands, and barking rather than roaring,
sprang upon projecting stones and ledges, looked down on the
valley for a few moments, continually growling, snarling, or
screaming, and then began to roll stones down upon us with so
much vigour and adroitness that we immediately saw that our lives
were in danger and took to flight. If it had not been possible for us to
clamber up the opposite wall of the narrow valley, and so to escape
the monkeys’ fire, we should have been utterly routed. The clever
animals not only conducted their defence on a definite plan, but they
acted in co-operation, striving for a common end, and exerting all
their united strength to attain it. One of our number saw one monkey
drag his stone up a tree that he might hurl it down with more effect; I
myself saw two combining their strength to set a heavy stone a-
rolling.
No animals but the higher apes adopt such means of defence, and
no other male animal runs into danger to rescue a helpless young
one of his species. Such traits must not be ignored, and cannot be
misinterpreted, for they speak for themselves better and more loudly
than all the sophistical analysis which refuses to admit that animals
have intelligence and the power of spontaneous action.
That the dog-like monkeys recognize and distinguish between cause
and effect can be certified by every unprejudiced observer. They
open doors and windows, drawers, cupboards, and boxes, untie
knots, and overcome other obstacles when they have once seen
how to set about it; but they also invent means to attain similar ends.
A female baboon, which I brought up in my family, got hold of a kitten
with the intention of making a pet of it and mothering it, but was
scratched by the terrified bundling. The monkey carefully examined
the kitten’s paws, pressed the claws forward, looked at them from
above, from beneath, and from the side, and then bit them off to
secure herself against further scratches. My brother and I used to
startle the same baboon by pouring a little heap of powder on the
ground in front of her, and setting it alight by means of a piece of
burning tinder. The sudden blazing up of the powder gave our
baboon such a fright every time that she screamed loudly and
sprang back as far as her tether would allow. After this trick had
been played upon her several times in succession, she protected
herself from further annoyance by beating the glowing tinder with her
hand till the spark was extinguished, and then eating up the powder.
In another case she conjured up fear and horror for herself. Like all
monkeys without exception, she regarded creeping things, and
above all snakes, with a boundless horror which was most amusing.
We often teased her by putting a snake, live, dead, or stuffed, into a
broad tin box, which was handed to her closed. After a time she
knew the box and its contents perfectly, but her curiosity always
mastered her, and she opened it every time, to run away screaming
directly afterwards.
Not content with recognizing causes really present, this monkey,
when she suffered any annoyance, sought for probable ones.
Something or someone must bear the blame of her discomfort. Thus
her anger was directed against the first person who came in sight. If
she was chastised, she was not angry with her master and keeper,
but with anyone else who was present during her punishment; such
a one must have been the cause of the harsh treatment she received
from her usually kind master. She had thus exactly the same
suspicions as small-minded human beings are apt to have in like
circumstances.
Notwithstanding her own extreme sensitiveness to any punishment,
even if only threatened, and also to quizzing and teasing, the baboon
in question could never refrain from tormenting, annoying, and even
ill-treating other animals. Our crabbed old badger-dog was lying
comfortably in the sun enjoying his mid-day nap. The baboon saw
this, slipped quietly up to him, looked with a sly twinkle of her little
eyes into the dog’s face to make sure that he was really asleep, then
suddenly seized the sleeper’s tail and brought him back with a
violent pull from dreamland to reality. The dog angrily rushed at the
disturber of his peace to avenge the insult. But the monkey escaped
the threatened punishment with a single leap over the advancing
dog, and in the next instant she had seized the tail and repeated the
outrage, obviously enjoying the powerlessness of her furious
opponent, until the latter, almost beside himself with anger and
excitement, unable even to bark, but gasping and foaming, tucked
his tail between his legs and fled, leaving the enemy in possession of
the field. If the baboon could have laughed, the parallel between her
behaviour and that of a mischievous boy would have been complete.
As it was, the scorn and ridicule with which the vanquished dog was
overwhelmed were intelligible enough. The baboon herself took
teasing very ill, would even become furious if laughed at by an
unprivileged person, and never omitted to take her revenge on the
first opportunity, even if that should not occur for weeks. But then
she was a monkey, and felt herself such, therefore regarded a dog
as a creature of a lower order, her insolence towards which was as
pardonable as that of every other creature towards herself was
reprehensible and worthy of punishment.
Of this self-esteem, or rather over-esteem, the dog-like monkeys
give daily proofs to every careful observer. The baboon in question,
like all monkeys, was exceedingly fond of pets, and in particular of a
long-tailed monkey which shared her cage, and could be trusted
even out of the cage with it, because it was always by the baboon’s
side as if under a charm. It slept in her arms, and obeyed her
slavishly. The baboon expected such obedience and took it as a
matter of course; but she demanded the most absolute subjection at
meal-times. While the good-natured and obedient long-tailed
monkey unresistingly allowed its foster-mother to pick out all the
titbits, the latter only left for the little one what was absolutely
necessary, and if it did succeed in storing something in its pouches,
simply opened these again and appropriated the contents to her own
use.
Unbounded as is the arrogance and self-esteem of the dog-like
monkeys, they are thoroughly well aware when they have done
wrong, that is, have done something deserving of punishment.
Schomburgk gives a most instructive example of this. In the
Zoological division of the Botanic Gardens at Adelaide an old sacred
macaque lived in a cage with two younger members of the same
species, over whom, as a matter of course, he ruled despotically.
One day, irritated by something or other, he attacked his keeper and
wounded him dangerously by biting through an artery on the wrist.
For this Schomburgk condemned him to death, and commissioned
another keeper to carry out the sentence by shooting him. The
monkeys were quite accustomed to fire-arms, which were often used
in the gardens for killing injurious animals, and though they knew
their effect they were not disquieted in the least when these were
brought into their immediate neighbourhood. The day after the
misconduct of the old tyrant the two young monkeys remained
quietly at the food-trough on the appearance of the keeper intrusted
with the execution of their comrade, but the criminal himself fled with
the utmost haste into his sleeping cage, and no amount of coaxing
could entice him out of it. An attempt was made to lure him forth by
setting down food; but he did what he had never done before, saw
his two subjects eat up the dainty fare and did not venture to take
part in the meal. Not till the suspected keeper had retired did he
venture to creep forth, seize a few crumbs, and retire in fear and
trembling to his hiding-place again. At length he was persuaded to
come out a second time, and the door of his retreat was closed.
When he saw the keeper with his weapon approaching, he knew that
he was lost. Frantically he threw himself on the door of his sleeping
cage to open it if possible, and not succeeding he rushed through
the whole cage examining every corner and space in the hope of
finding a means of escape; at last, seeing that there was no
possibility of flight, he threw himself despairingly on the ground and
surrendered himself, his whole body trembling and shuddering, to
the fate which overtook him a moment later.
Fig. 46.—Macaque or Bonnet-monkey (Macacus sinicus) and Snake.
It must be admitted that no mammal of any other order, not even the
dog, who has associated with us, and been educated, and, strictly
speaking, formed by us for thousands of years, acts in the manner
described, or exhibits such a high degree of intelligence. And yet a
wide gulf lies between the dog-like monkeys and the anthropoid
apes, of which I have said that they rise even above the average of
monkeyhood.
By the anthropoid apes we understand those which in their structure
most resemble man, but are externally distinguished from him by the
very prominent canine teeth, the relatively long arms and short legs,
the structure of the hand, the ischial callosities present in some
species, and the hairy covering of the body. They inhabit the tropical
countries of Asia and Africa (the former being richer in species), and
they are divided into three families, of which one is confined to
Africa. Each of these families embraces only a few species, but
probably we do not know nearly all of them as yet.
The structure of the anthropoid apes points to an arboreal life; they
are most excellent climbers, though by no means slaves to the tree
any more than the langurs, long-tailed monkeys, and macaques.
Their movements, however, both among the branches and on the
ground, are quite different from those of all other monkeys. In
climbing up a tree, particularly a smooth trunk without branches, they
take the same position as a man would do, but, thanks to their long
arms and short legs, they make much more rapid progress than the
most expert human climber; and when they have reached the
branches they put every gymnast to shame by the variety and
security of their movements. With outstretched arms they seize one
branch, with the feet they clasp a parallel one, about half their height
lower down, and, using the upper branch as a rail, they walk along
the lower one so quickly, though without the least sign of effort, that
a man walking underneath must exert himself vigorously to keep
pace with them. On reaching the end of the branch, they seize any
available bough or twig of the next tree and proceed on their way in
the same manner, with undiminished speed, yet without hurry. In
ascending they seize hold of any branch strong enough to bear their
weight, and swing themselves upwards with equal ease whether
they are holding the branch with both hands or only with one; in
descending, they let themselves hang with both arms and search
about for a new foothold. Sometimes they amuse themselves by
swinging freely for some minutes; sometimes, clasping a branch with
arms and feet, they walk, for a change, on its lower surface; in short,
they assume every imaginable position, and execute every possible
movement. Quite unrivalled masters of climbing are the long-armed
apes or gibbons, anthropoid apes with arms so disproportionately
long that, when outstretched, they measure thrice as much as their
upright bodies. With incomparable speed and security they climb up
a tree or bamboo-stem, set it, or a suitable branch swinging, and on
its rebound spring over spaces of from eight to twelve yards, so
lightly and swiftly, that they seem to fly like a shot arrow or an
alighting bird. They are also able to alter the direction of a leap while
actually springing, or to cut it suddenly short by seizing a branch and
clinging to it—swinging, rocking, and finally climbing up by it, either
to rest for a little, or to begin the old game anew. Sometimes they
spring through the air in this manner three, four, or five times in
succession, so that one almost forgets that they are subject to the
law of gravity. Their walking is as awkward as their climbing is
excellent. Other anthropoid apes are able to traverse a considerable
distance in an upright position—that is, on their feet alone, without
special difficulty, though when in haste they always fall on all-fours,
resting on the inturned knuckles of the fingers and the outer edges of
the feet, and throwing the body laboriously and clumsily forward
between the extended arms. But the long-armed apes move in an
upright position only in cases of extreme necessity, and then they
hop rather than walk. When the distance to be covered is a short one
they raise themselves to their full height, and preserving their
balance by extending their arms, now more, now less, spread out the
great toes as far as possible, and patter pitiably along with short,
quick steps. Their power of movement must therefore be
characterized as one-sided, for their superiority over the other
anthropoid apes in climbing does not counterbalance their
helplessness on the ground.
Fig. 47.—The Hoolock (Hylobates leuciscus), one of the Gibbons.
The voice-power of the anthropoid apes is very noteworthy. We find

that the most active and agile species have the loudest voices, while
those of the more widely developed, though less nimble, anthropoid
apes are capable of greater variety of expression. I do not say too
much when I assert that I have never heard the voice of any
mammal—man, of course, always excepted—which was more full-
toned and sonorous than that of a long-armed ape which I observed
in captivity. I was first astonished, then delighted, with these deep
notes, uttered with full strength, and by no means disagreeable,
because perfectly clear and well-rounded. In one species the ringing
call, which I should describe as a song rather than a cry, begins on
the key-note E, ascends and descends in semitones through the
chromatic scale for a full octave, sometimes ending with a shrill cry,
which seems to be uttered with the animal’s whole strength. The
key-note remains audible throughout, and serves as a grace-note to
each of the succeeding ones, which, in ascending the scale, follow
each other more and more slowly, in descending more and more
quickly, at last with extreme rapidity, but always with perfect
regularity. The notes of some species of the group are said to be
less clear, but all are so loud that, in the open air, one can hear them
distinctly at a distance of an English mile. The same correlation
between agility of motion and voice-power can be observed in other
anthropoid apes. The slow-moving, awkward-looking orang-utan
utters, as far as I know, only a strong, deep throat sound; the lively,
active, sprightly chimpanzee, with only a few notes, understands so
well how to give them variety of emphasis and intelligible expression
that one is tempted to concede to him the power of speech. He does
not indeed speak with words, but with sounds, and even syllables, of
the constancy of whose meaning the observer who has much
acquaintance with the chimpanzee can have no doubt. Other
anthropoid apes of the same family are probably not far behind him
in this respect.
Anyone who wishes to learn to what a height the mental qualities of
a monkey may reach must select the chimpanzee or one of his
nearest relatives for observation, and must associate closely with it
for a lengthened period, as I have done. He will then discover with
wonder and amazement, perhaps with slight horror, how much the
gulf between man and beast can be diminished. The other
anthropoid apes, too, are highly gifted creatures; they, too, surpass
all other monkeys in this respect; but the talents of the long-armed
gibbons or the orang-utans do not attain to the same universally
intelligible expression—I may say, the same impressiveness, as
those of the chimpanzees and their relatives. They—the pongos, the
gorilla, the tschiego, and the chimpanzee—cannot be treated as
animals, but must be associated with as men, if their mental powers
are to be known and appreciated. Their intelligence is not far behind
that of a rude, undisciplined, uneducated human being. They are,
and remain animals, but they behave so humanly that one can
almost lose sight of the beast.
For years in succession I have kept chimpanzees, have observed
them closely and, as far as possible, without prejudice, have
associated intimately with them, taken them into my family, brought
them up as playmates for my children, let them eat at my table,
taught and trained them, waited upon them in sickness, and not
forsaken them in the hour of death. I have therefore a right to believe
that I know them as well as anyone, and that I am justified in
pronouncing an authoritative opinion. For these reasons I select the
chimpanzee, in order to show to what height the mental power of an
animal may rise.
The chimpanzee is not only one of the cleverest of all creatures, he
is a being capable of deliberation and judgment. Everything he does
is done consciously and deliberately. He imitates, but he does so
with intelligence and on due consideration; he allows himself to be
taught, and learns. He knows himself and his surroundings, and he
can appreciate his position. In association with man he yields
submission to superior intelligence; in his relations with animals he
exhibits a self-conceit similar to our own. What is merely hinted at
among other apes is quite pronounced in him. He regards himself as
better, as standing higher than other animals, even other monkeys;
he rates even human beings exactly according to their standing; thus
he treats children quite differently from grown-up people; the latter
he respects, the former he looks upon as comrades and equals. He
shows an interest in animals with which he can form no friendship or
other tie, and also in objects which have no connection with his
natural wants; for he is not merely inquisitive, he is greedy of
knowledge; an object which has attracted his attention increases in
value in his eyes when he has found out its use. He can draw
conclusions, can reason from one to another, and apply the results
of experience to new circumstances, is cunning, even wily, has
flashes of wit, and indulges in practical jokes, exhibits humours and
moods, is entertained in one company and bored in another, enters
into the spirit of some jokes and scorns others, is self-willed but not
stubborn, good-natured but not wanting in independence. He
expresses his emotions like a human being. When in a gay mood he
smirks with satisfaction, when depressed his face is drawn into
wrinkles which speak for themselves, and he gives utterance to his
grief by plaintive sounds. In sickness he behaves like one in despair,
distorts his face, screams, throws himself on his back, beats with his
hands and feet, and tears his hair. To a friendly voice he responds
with sounds expressive of pleasure, to chiding with cries of distress.
He is active and busy from morning till late in the evening, seeks
constant occupation, and when he comes to an end of his usual
employments he invents new ones, even if it should only be slapping
his feet with his hands, or knocking against hollow boards, and thus
producing sounds which give him evident pleasure. In a room he
occupies himself with carefully examining everything that attracts his
attention, opens drawers and rummages among their contents,
opens the stove door to look at the fire and shuts it again, holds a
key properly, stands before the mirror and amuses himself with the
reflection of his own gestures and grimaces, uses brush and duster
as he has been taught, puts on blankets and clothing, and so on.
Fig. 48.—Chimpanzee (Troglodytes niger).
His acuteness of observation is strikingly proved by his almost

unfailingly correct judgment of persons. Not only does he recognize
and distinguish his friends from other people, but well-meaning from
evil-intentioned persons so thoroughly that the keeper of a
chimpanzee was convinced that anyone with whom his protégé
refused to make friends was really a good-for-nothing or a scoundrel.
A thorough but accomplished hypocrite who deceived me and others
was all along a horror to our chimpanzee, just as if he had seen
through the red-headed rascal from the first. Every chimpanzee who
has been much in human society likes best to be a member of a
family circle. There he behaves as though he felt himself among
equals. He carefully observes the manners and customs of the
house, notices immediately whether he is being watched or not, and
does in the former case what he ought to, in the latter what pleases
him. In contrast to other monkeys, he learns very easily and with real
eagerness whatever is taught to him, as, for instance, to sit upright at
table, to eat with knife, fork, and spoon, to drink from a glass or cup,
to stir the sugar in his tea, to touch glasses with his neighbour, to use
his napkin, and so on; with equal case he becomes accustomed to
clothing, beds, and blankets; without great difficulty he gains after a
time an understanding of human speech which far surpasses that of
a well-trained dog, for he follows not merely the emphasis but the
meaning of words, and executes commissions or obeys commands
with equal correctness. Exceedingly appreciative of every caress
and flattery, and even of praise, he is equally sensitive to unfriendly
treatment or blame; he is also capable of deep gratitude, and he
expresses it by shaking hands or kissing without being asked to do
so. He evinces a special fondness for children. Being neither spiteful
nor vicious, he treats children with great friendliness as long as they
do not tease him, and behaves to helpless infants with really
touching tenderness, though towards others of his own species,
monkeys of a different species, and animals generally, he is often
rough and harsh. I lay special stress on this characteristic, which I
have observed in every chimpanzee I have brought up, because it
seems to prove that the chimpanzee recognizes and respects the
human even in the youngest child.
The behaviour of a sick and suffering anthropoid ape is most
touching. Begging piteously, almost humanly, he looks into his
keeper’s face, receives every attempt to help him with warm thanks,
and soon looks upon the physician as a benefactor, holds out his
arm to him, or stretches out his tongue as soon as he is told, and
even does so of his own accord after a few visits from the physician.
He swallows medicine readily, submits even to a surgical operation,
and, in a word, behaves very like a human patient in similar
circumstances. As his end approaches he becomes more gentle, the
animal in him is lost sight of, and the nobler traits of his character
stand out prominently.
The chimpanzee which I kept longest, and with the help of an
intelligent, animal-loving keeper educated most carefully, was taken
ill with inflammation of the lungs, accompanied by suppuration of the
lymphatic glands of the neck. Surgical treatment of the glands was
found necessary. Two surgeons, friends of mine who were on good
terms with the chimpanzee, undertook to open the tumour on the
neck, the more readily that the monkey believed that to be the cause
of his suffering, and continually guided the surgeon’s hand towards
it. But how was the necessary operation in such a dangerous spot to
be performed without imperilling the monkey’s life? Anæsthetics
were out of the question because of the lung disease, and the
attempt to have the chimpanzee held down by several strong men
had to be abandoned because of his intense excitement, and the
strenuous resistance he offered. But where force failed persuasion
succeeded. When the monkey was quieted and reassured by the
coaxing and endearments of his keeper, he allowed a further
examination of the swelling, and even submitted, without twitching
an eyelid or uttering a complaint, to the use of the knife, and other
painful treatment, including the emptying of the opened tumour.
When this was done the distressingly laboured breathing became
instantly less oppressive, an unmistakable expression of relief
passed over the sufferer’s face, and he gratefully held out his hand
to both physicians, and embraced his keeper, without having been
asked to do either.
Unfortunately, the removal of the one trouble did not succeed in
saving the animal’s life. The neck wound healed, but the
inflammation of the lungs increased and killed him. He died fully
conscious, gently and peacefully, not as an animal, but as a man
dies.
These are features of the character and conduct of anthropoid apes
which can neither be misunderstood nor cavilled at. When one
considers that they can be observed in all anthropoids not yet full-
grown but beyond the stage of childhood, one must undoubtedly
grant those animals a very high place. For the opinion expressed by
some one incapable observer, and thoughtlessly repeated by
hundreds, that the monkey loses mental power with increasing age,
that he retrogrades and becomes stupid, is completely false, and is
disproved by every ape which is observed carefully, and without
prejudice, from youth to age.[73] Even if we knew nothing more about
full-grown anthropoids than that they erect shelters resembling huts
rather than nests, in which to pass a single night, and that they drum
on hollow trees for amusement, it would be enough to lead us to the
same conclusion as we have arrived at by observation of the young
members of this group; that is, that they must be regarded as by far
the most gifted and highly developed of animals, and as our nearest
relatives.
And the ape question? I might say that I have just answered it in
what I have said; but I have no hesitation in expressing a more
definite opinion.
Everyone must admit that man is not the representative of a new
order of being, but is simply a member of the animal kingdom, and
every unprejudiced person will also describe apes as the creatures
most resembling man. If we compare them with one another, and
then with man, the conviction is forced upon us, however we may
strive against it, that there is a greater difference between the
marmosets and the anthropoid apes than between the latter group
and man. Zoologically, therefore, one cannot even relegate the apes
and man to different orders of the highest class of animals. This has
indeed been done, and is still done, man being classed as two-
handed and monkeys as four-handed animals, but this leaves the
most important aid to the classification of a mammal, the dentition,
out of the question. For the dentition of man and monkeys is so
essentially similar that it points imperatively to the necessity of
placing the two types together. Nor is the distinction between two-
handed and four-handed tenable, for although as regards the
structure of hands and feet man and monkeys are certainly different,
the difference does not imply any opposition; and the monkeys are
just as much two-handed as we are. If we keep to the basis of
classification adhered to without exception elsewhere, we are forced
to place both in one order. I have given to it the name Hochtiere.
But though the characteristics which belong to all the higher animals
as members of one order correspond thus accurately, a closer
comparison reveals differences between man and apes which
absolutely forbid a fusion of the two groups such as has been
attempted in modern times. The symmetry of form, the comparative
shortness of the arms, the breadth and mobility of the hands, the
length and strength of the legs, as well as the flatness of the feet, the
naked skin, and the less-developed canine teeth are external marks
of man which must not be under-estimated, for they are important
enough to justify putting him and the apes in different families,
perhaps even different sub-orders. If, in addition, we take man’s
endowments into due consideration, compare his movements, his
articulate speech, his mental capacities with the corresponding gifts
in the ape, the need for insisting on the boundaries between the two
is confirmed.
Blind disciples of the Doctrine of Descent, as Darwin founded it and
others developed it, do indeed cross these boundaries without
hesitation, but they cannot possibly be regarded as giving a carefully
thought-out and authoritative judgment on the actual state of the
case. Satisfactory, not to say probable, as this doctrine is, it has not
yet risen above the level of an ingenious hypothesis; and
incontrovertible evidence for the correctness of this hypothesis has
not yet been produced. Variation within the limits of species and
breed can be proved, can even be brought about; but transformation
of one species into another cannot be established in any case. As
long as this is so we are justified in regarding man and apes as
creatures of different nature, and disputing the descent of one from
the other. No attempt to discover or establish a common ancestor, no
undertaking to draw up a pedigree for man, alters this in the
slightest; for true natural science is not satisfied with interpretative
theories, it demands proofs; it does not want to believe, but to know.
[74]
So we may without scruple give the apes the place in the scale of
being which unprejudiced investigation points out. We may look
upon them as the animals most resembling ourselves, and as our
nearest relatives in the zoological sense; anything more than this we
must deny. Much that is characteristic of man is to be found in the
apes also; but a wide gulf still remains between them and true

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Tribals and Dalits in Orissa: Towards a

Social History of Exclusion, c.

Contemporary Discourses in Social Exclusion Aminkeng A.

Lived Nation as the History of Experiences and Emotions

Moments in Indonesian Film History Film and Popular

A New History of Social Work; Values and Practice in

Life history evolution: a biological meta-theory for

A History of the Social Sciences in 101 Books Cyril

Crime, Broadsides And Social Change, 1800-1850 1st

A history of the University of Oxford George C.

© Oxford University Press 2019

The moral rights of the authors have been asserted.

First Edition published in 2019

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in

You must not circulate this work in any other form

ISBN-13 (print edition): 978-0-19-948940-4

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00_Prelims.indd iv 28/09/18 4:10 PM

As Biswamoy Pati’s Tribals and Dalits in Orissa goes posthumously

barely existed in parts of the western interiors of Orissa, Biswamoy

University Grants Commission, New Delhi; an ‘International Visiting

AICC All India Congress Committee

RPEAEC Report of the Partially Excluded Areas Enquiry

Map 1 Orissa: Provinces

Patna Baud An Hindol Cuttack

Map 2 Princely States of Orissa

Invisibility, Social Exclusion,

simultaneously expresses a whole range of possibilities related to

Orissa is often perceived as consisting of two parts: the fertile coastal

or the region.1 This is in sharp contrast to the life of the majority

COLONIAL INTERVENTIONS , TRIBALS , AND UNTOUCHABLES : LAND

The British colonization of Orissa saw major agrarian interventions

princely states of Kalahandi, Mayurbhanj, Nilgiri, Gangpur, Keonjhar, and

revenue settlements that were aimed at tapping agrarian resources.

romanticizing anything, but also direct scholarly attention towards

they collected large amounts of revenue from the people through

DEFINING ‘ TRIBAL ’ IDENTITY IN COLONIAL ORISSA

The initial years of colonial presence were restricted to the coastal

and the Resurgence of the Khurda Rajas as the “Rajas of Puri” ’, in A.

later, the Dharani Bhuyans, the enterprise of acquiring knowledge to

5 Rendho Majhi (head of the Borikiya Kandhas of Kalahandi), Chakra

By the nineteenth century, a ‘tribe’ came to be seen not only as part

UNPACKING COLONIAL STEREOTYPES

Although tribal society meant different things to different people

6 See André Béteille, ‘The Idea of Indigenous People’, Current Anthropology,

‘common sense’ was its location on the fringes of sedentary, peas-

7 For example, both Meena Radhakrishna, Dishonoured by History:

Office of the Superintendent of Government Printing, 1872), and E. Thurston,

A tribe as we find in India is a collection of families or groups of families

and Ancestors: Evolutionary Science and Colonial Ethnography’, in

large sections of the populace like the Koyas, Mundas, Kandhas, or

COLONIAL CONSTRUCTIONS OF THE ‘ CRIMINAL TRIBE ’

It is also necessary to foreground the manner in which ‘tribes’ and

longstanding features of the past, are relative recent ‘inventions’.

15 Bhowmick’s survey revealed that out of the twenty-two Lodhas who

17 R. Clark, ‘Pans of Orissa’ ‘Appendix VIII’, in M. Kennedy, Notes on

Criminal Classes in the Bombay Presidency, with Appendices Regarding Some