In February 2019, author Harmony Siganporia walked from Dandi to Ahmedabad (along the Dandi Path – approximately 400 km in 25 days), stopping everywhere Gandhi and his marchers had; covering the distances they had, on any given day. She inquired of those who live along this route today whether they had inherited any memories of the Salt March, to see what remains of the event in Gujarat’s cultural memory. In addition, she also sought to investigate precisely what it is that the people of Gujarat talk about when they talk about ‘vikas’. The following is a portion of her accounts of day 9 on the road, excerpted from Walking from Dandi: In Search of Vikas, published by Oxford University Press.§Date: 11/2/2019Route: Umracchi – Rayma – MangrolDistrict crossing: Surat to BharuchDistance: 20 kmsI realise we have…a bit of a problem on our hands. I thought this day would see us walking for 3 to 4 hours (15 kms), but because of the Kim (the river this time, not the town named for it) being polluted and uncrossable by foot (despite the fact that there is no more than a couple of inches of “water” in it) and the bridge the villagers had made for Gandhi and the Marchers having long collapsed, the detour we would have to take meant that it was another 15 kms, along roads the Marchers never walked on, to get just to our day halt, the village of Rayma. I decide this is futile, so we walk to the river bank, to the spot where we were told that Gandhi’s crossing had taken place, then back to the Yatri Nivas (State rest-house facilities developed along the Dandi Path), where we get into a car and drive to the other side of the river. We walk down to the precise spot we would have reached, near the GSPC (gas/petronet) building, had we been able to cross the river on foot, and set off for Rayma from there.Route map of the Dandi March. Photo: Gandhi Heritage Portal.As we stand on the banks of what was once a river, and what today is mostly chemical waste, I recount on camera all that the sarpanch of Umracchi, a querulous farmer (“what did the Congress do here for 65 years?” he practically barked at us, from out of nowhere, and a propos precisely nothing) who happened to be around, and Narpadsinh had told me that morning. The exact location of the crossing: the old make-shift bridge constructed by the villagers of Umrachhi for Gandhi, built almost overnight, was somewhere between Obha and Asharma – no one today knows precisely where. Vijendra (the sarpanch) is a lawyer. He tells me that big industries he’s been fighting cases against have long been dumping their waste into the Kim. Narpadsinh and others say despite there being such little water in the river, we can’t walk across it because coming in contact with its ‘water’ makes people break out in hives; skin peels off the legs of cattle who wander into it, and crops wilt if this water is used upon them. This is clearly a travesty, but it is also a marker of things to come: Gujarat’s rivers are overwhelmingly dry; our land is turning arid; our air is barely breathable, but more on that in due course… Also read: Gandhi and His Elusive Conquest of ViolenceWe finally get to little Rayma, and find the house Gandhi rested in, after asking around a little bit. It is easy enough: clearly, enough have asked before us, and I hope more will in the future…Jyotiben and Jatinbhai Bhatt are descendants of Nathubhai Kashiram, who sounds like quite the man.We introduce ourselves, and they gesture us in, looking unenthused; more, I think, unsurprised. They’ve clearly been called on before (including by an Indian-origin “RAF pilot” called Max, who claims to have ferried the Queen around, Jatinbhai tells me). They show us articles/cuttings about their ancestor and home. Everyone who comes by, leaves them a note in a scrap-book: I do too. The actual house Gandhi rested in is the broken shell we’d noticed abutting this building earlier: it is disputed territory, we learn. They say they have had to buy back their own lands (something about their ancestors having given it away, carried away as they were by the egalitarian spirit which animated sections and moments of the Nationalist movement).‘Walking from Dandi: In Search of Vikas’, Harmony Siganporia, Oxford University Press, 2022.I sense a change in temperature and mood when I say no one talks about swaraj anymore; only vikas. Jatinbhai says it is best to stay apolitical. I say no change comes that way. He wants to walk us out until the main road. I say how lovely it is to see a masjid next to a temple, when we pass these structures in quick succession on our walk out of the village. He is quiet. We leave in the searing heat, and make our way to Mangrol, where we’re met by T, who tells me the village has 80% “occupancy”: 10% Brahmin and 70% Adivasi. This might explain why vikas hasn’t bothered descending upon it. This is one of the visibly poorest villages we’ve seen en route. He brings his “muh boli” (bespoke) sister, another ‘sister’, his “wife” (‘we’re not married though,’ he insists, somewhat confusingly), three kids, and a soon-to-be-married young woman to meet me. I tell them why we’re here. They’re shy – they smile, but are very quiet…I ask what their plans for this evening are: a man behind us exclaims, “eh?” as if he doesn’t understand what I’ve just said. T tells me everyone is in bed by 8:15 pm here. They leave. Are the women quiet because of the men? The girls in particular: so quiet. Why?…We have to mission to another place, nearby Hansot, for dinner: Chirag and Vipin eat at Hotel Iqra, while Sushmit and I get shawarmas from a roadside cart. At Iqra, Chirag meets Gulabbhai and his father. The older man says Hansot has become polarised over the years. This Muslim family runs a pure vegetarian establishment: something I must admit struck me as out of the ordinary then, but proved more commonplace as days wore on. There were communal riots in Hansot in 2015, and the old man said things have never been the same since. He said relations between Hindus and Muslims used to be better, but all they can do now is get by in an uneasy sort of peace which does not feel particularly stable. Gulabbhai, who loves cricket, ended his formal education after Class X, and now helps run his father’s restaurant. He asks Chirag about his education, where he’s from – this interests him more than why we are in Hansot, or what we’re doing. He offers to send us breakfast from his own home the next morning, when he hears we are to start walking fairly early in the day. The warmth shines through, despite the slightly guarded nature of most interactions: this is clearly the result of a vitiated environment brought on by active and longstanding efforts to polarise the Gujarati population, but just as certain is the fact that it can be mitigated if enough people just…walked…and talked. Then walked some more.Harmony Siganporia is an Associate Professor of Culture and Communication at MICA, India.
