Laxman Gaikwad, "Bandookya" (translated from Marathi & Hindi)
Source: https://hindikahani.hindi-kavita.com/Bandookya-Lakshman-Gaikwad.php
Key words: Land rights; inter-caste disputes; agriculture; criminalization of Adivasi communities
The following translation was assisted by ChatGPT.
In the Maharashtra region, atrocities against the Pardhi Adivasis are commonplace. They are often branded as born thieves, and either the police or dominant members of society beat them and even burn their homes.
Against this backdrop, a strange incident occurred one day in the town of Paranda in Osmanabad. A man named Bandookya Pardhi lived with his wife and children in a hut outside the village. His wife and son, Kadatusha, tended goats, while Bandookya made a living by doing small-scale hunting.
One morning, the landlord Mangal Patil came to Bandookya’s house and said,
“You Pardhis are a thieving caste. Though you live near our village, you are not one of us. If you want, I can let you stay in my village and give you work.”
With no other means of livelihood left, Bandookya found the proposal appealing. He replied,
“Yes sir, we’re ready. What work would we have to do?”
Mangal Patil replied,
“I run a small sugar mill and have plenty of sugarcane in my fields. You and your son can help cut the cane. I’ll pay you wages and even give you an advance.”
Bandookya agreed, thinking this might also help build ties with the village landlord, and perhaps the villagers would stop calling them thieves and abusing them.
One day, Mangal Patil gave Bandookya a thousand rupees. Seeing ten ₹100 notes, Bandookya was overjoyed. The next day, he rented a bullock cart and went to the landlord’s field with his wife and son. Everywhere he looked, he saw lush green sugarcane fields—so vibrant it reminded him of a bride in a green veil. He even thought he might get to hunt a rabbit or two here.
They would load the sugarcane from Patil's fields onto the bullock cart, take it to the mill at Dhokhi to be weighed, and then return to load more. While Bandookya transported the cane, his wife and son would continue cutting. Days passed like this. One day, pleased with the work, Mangal Patil said to Bandookya:
“You’re doing great work. You’ve delivered the most sugarcane. I’ll give you another 150 rupees for your effort—but I need your help with something else.”
To this, Bandookya replied,
“Landlord sir, if not yours, whose help would I offer?”
One day, while Bandookya and his family were cooking and eating a pigeon they had hunted from the field, Mangal Patil came over and said,
“My younger brother is sick. He’s alone at the hospital. I want you to go stay with him. I’ll pay you for it.”
Bandookya was a simple man. He thought, “If one doesn’t help others in their time of need, what’s the point?” So he agreed and went with Patil in his car to the hospital in Osmanabad. There, Patil’s brother was admitted. Soon, the doctors took him for surgery while Bandookya waited outside, rubbing tobacco into his palm.
Then Mangal Patil came out and said,
“My brother urgently needs a bottle of blood.”
He requested Bandookya to donate.
Bandookya immediately agreed:
“If a bottle of my blood can save your brother, I’m ready.”
Back in the field, Bandookya’s wife was worried day and night over his absence. The next day, the blood report came. Bandookya was lying on a cot, and in the adjacent room, a doctor was telling Mangal Patil that if they could take one of Bandookya’s kidneys and transplant it into his brother, his life could be saved.
Bandookya overheard this conversation. It suddenly became clear why Patil had been so generous and sweet to him—it wasn’t just about blood; they wanted his kidney too. He trembled at the thought.
Using the excuse of going to the bathroom, Bandookya slipped away. He ran quickly and caught a bus straight back to the fields where his wife and son were. He told his family everything.
The landlord was furious that a Pardhi tribal had defied him and run away without informing anyone.
Meanwhile, Bandookya had returned to his village with his wife and children. His wife kept thinking, “Landlords are such selfish brutes! He wanted to sacrifice my husband to save his own brother.” One day, the angry landlord came to the Pardhi settlement, reached Bandookya’s house, and demanded,
“Why did you run away from the hospital?”
Bandookya replied bluntly,
“Landlord sir, we may be poor and uneducated, but I know you tried to take my kidney under the pretense of needing blood for your brother. That’s not going to happen.”
The landlord said,
“I was going to pay you even more. A man doesn’t die from donating one kidney.”
Bandookya shot back,
“Then why don’t you donate yours?”
This reply infuriated the landlord. He shouted angrily to the men who had come with him,
“From today, this scoundrel is not allowed near our village! Burn down his house and beat the bastards—they're nothing but thieves and crooks!”
Twenty to twenty-five men set the entire settlement on fire. Children were beaten with sticks. All the Pardhis fled into the forest to save their lives. Their homes and belongings, including their goats, burned to ashes.
Bandookya, gathering his courage, went and reported the incident to the District Magistrate. A case was finally registered under tribal protection laws. The landlord and a few of his accomplices were jailed—but quickly released on bail. The village leaders supported the landlord, but the case eventually reached court.
Adivasi organizations arranged a good lawyer to support Bandookya. He wanted justice against those who burned their homes and beat them. Now living in a new hut, Bandookya attended every court hearing, determined to see the landlord punished.
One day, the landlord’s lawyer warned him,
“If the Pardhi testifies in court about the arson and assault, you could be sentenced to six years in prison.”
This deeply worried the landlord. He had just become a bank chairman, was the vice president of a sugar mill, and was planning to run in the upcoming elections. If convicted, all of that would be ruined. Returning to the village, he began thinking about how to escape the case.
Then an idea struck him:
If these Pardhis were framed in a theft case, their voices would be silenced. They already have a reputation as a thieving caste.
To execute this plan, the landlord, with help from his thugs, orchestrated a robbery at the home of a poor farmer, who was a distant relative of Mangal Patil. They looted jewelry and money and murdered the farmer. A rumor was spread that robbers had broken into the farmer's house and killed him.
When the farmer’s body was brought to the hospital for post-mortem, Mangal Patil made a dramatic show, shouting,
“The one who committed this murder in the name of robbery will not be spared!”
This incident was timed carefully—the very next day was the final court hearing in Bandookya’s case.
That morning, Bandookya’s entire family boarded the only daily bus from the village to Osmanabad for the court hearing. They had no idea about the farmer’s murder. As they sat in the bus, ready to go to court, Mangal Patil, who had been lying in wait, pointed to the bus and incited the villagers,
“Look! These are the thief Pardhis running away after murdering the farmer during a robbery!”
The enraged mob lost all restraint. They surrounded the bus, shouting,
“Which of you Pardhis are on this bus? Come out!”
The mob of furious villagers and the landlord’s goons began beating the Pardhis like wild animals. The police stood by, doing nothing. The powerful people of the village all sided with the landlord.
Three Pardhis were killed on the spot, and one child died on the way to the hospital. The remaining survivors were unable to make it to court to testify.
Due to lack of testimony, Mangal Patil was acquitted.
Even today, Mangal Patil walks free.