DEEP in the heart of Nasik district, nestled beyond the Bafalon hills and kissing the borders of Gujarat are strings of adivasi hamlets—Umbarthon, Dodhipada, Mhaiskadak, Boricha Gavta, Patali, Toran Dongri, Darapada, Amdabare, Kukudne Guhicha, Mangadha.... Untouched by tar and unmarked by criss-crossing electricity lines, power has suddenly become a problem—over 110 families have decided to take some into their own hands. These adivasis, who sport the name of AC Bharat, want to sever all ties with the Indian Union, and don't understand why such a to-do is being made over their decision. Apparently they have succeeded in working local politicos and the CBI into a cold sweat.
Masterminding the operation is Baba Kunver Keshrisinghji, all of 109 years, armed with a pre-Independence BA degree and a post-Independence criminal record and who has declared himself the owner of India. He operates from the interiors of Gujarat and his influence extends to the simple adivasi folk of the border areas of Mah-arashtra. Here Kunver Keshrisinghji's writ runs supreme—and, of late, amuck too.
Information about this tiny parallel government made a startling appearance about two years ago in the Gondulmal village. When former collector Thomas Benjamin, as per T.N. Seshan's diktat, persuaded these tribals to make their election identity cards, they were violently enraged. The cards were never made and the government officials feared to return. "We are the owners of the country. Identity cards are meant for outsiders, not for us," say the tribals.
More recently, when taken to task for not paying taxes, the AC adivasis submitted a India non-judicial stamped paper declaring that since they belonged to AC Bharat, the laws were inapplicable to them. "The case was dismissed," boasts their colour-fully-scarved spokesperson AC Gopinath Matushri Rangi Pitashri Ramji. They now flash AC Bharat 'passports' that sport a photograph of the 'owner of India'.
The AC tribals cling to the comforting belief that except for one and two rupee notes, all else is valueless. However, the revenue stamp is revered—"Our houses, our land, everything depends on the revenue stamp," says AC Shaviram Matushri Janu Pitashri Devji of Dodipada village.
This movement for self-determination has grown from 100 to over 2,000 members in four years. "We do not follow any religion or accept any caste and creed. We are not against the Indian government. We do not want to quarrel with anybody. We have our beliefs and we want to be left alone," says AC Gopinath. This demand has translated itself into a refusal to pay revenue taxes, source governmental aid or participate in democratic processes.
Subversive by simplicity, these adivasis painstakingly show reams of photocopies to establish the veracity of their claims—and by default, those of their uncrowned king's. Notes in English, pamphlets on RBI coin specifications, gibberish trickle out of tin trunks. Certificates declaring 'Owner of India' and Kunver Keshrisinghji's sanction—"I promise by order of Fatherhood in any dif-ficulties and Happyness (sic) to pay the account/sum and ruling of Body"—adorn the mud-caked walls. Even lifestyles have been altered—
aartis penned by the ruler are performed with the curled fists associated with birth and death. Names are prefixed with AC, followed by the name of their mother and then that of the father.
Replies oscillate from the wise to the whacky and are delivered in curious dialectic combinations of Dangi, Konkani, Gujarati, Marathi and a smattering of English. These people with the weather-beaten and gaunt faces are obsessed with currency, the constitution and the crown. They speak animatedly of a Commonwealth conference held in London in the '60s during which 162 delegates from 64 nations acknowledged the sovereignty of AC Bharat, and auth-orised Keshrisinghji's rule. "Bharat
sarkar is actually Bharat naukar . They are supposed to work for us and we are the real rulers. If nature does not give us food, will the government do so? If Britain has a ruler, shouldn't we also?" demands AC Nanu Matushri Maina Pitashri Gangal of Rasha village.
"For years, funds allocated for tribal development have been misappropriated. For every Rs 3 lakh allocated to pave their access roads, two lakh mysteriously disappears. When they haven't benefited from the government, how can one expect them to respect it?" asks Gautam Surana, a schoolteacher from a neighbouring village in Surgana Taluka. Pravin Jagtap, assistant officer, Kalwan Tribal Development Project, notes that since these people live on the border of Maharashtra and Gujarat, neglect is inevitable. "Since there is nobody to motivate them to ask for facilities, these situations arise."
Meanwhile, locally fostered conspiracy theories abound. "Gujarat is trying to grab Maharashtra's districts," says one. "This will erupt into a Belgaum-like situation," warns another. A third offers an even more ingenuous statement: "This is Britain at work. How else would they know of the Commonwealth and Buckingham Palace?"
With the sudden escalation of interest in their situation coming to their notice, the AC adivasis now feel that the system they rejected is out to get them. "Yes, we know that the military will also come here soon," prophesies a stoic AC Bharatwala. The mood is upbeat, almost bordering on patriotism. Force—armed or otherwise—will do little to detract them from their dream of an Alternative Nation.
