Originally published as part of Khabar Lahariya’s long-form series “Sound Fury & 4G“ ♦
On Ram Navami, it rains flowers in Banda, in the hilly Bundelkhand region of southern Uttar Pradesh. A helicopter disburses showers of petals onto the town’s streets, which are packed with a long parade of people floating on a sea of saffron flags, chariots, noise and music. After all, the neighbouring jungles of Chitrakoot are where Rama and company are said to have spent part of their time in exile.
This year, however, with people banished from the streets and sequestered in their homes, the district headquarters was deserted on April 2, the day of the festival. At the Maheshwari Devi Mandir, one of the Banda’s largest temples, a priest performed a simple, quiet puja.
Ambedkar Jayanti, on April 14, is typically another cause for town-wide celebrations, with floats, lights and dancing in the streets. But this year, people just lit candles at home in front of their portraits of Ambedkar. Those who could, made special festive foods for their kids.
And yet, life carries on as the country enters its fifth week of a national lockdown, with all signs pointing towards added extensions beyond May 3. For the most part, the reporters of Khabar Lahariya have been busy chasing stories about delayed rations, unreachable disbursements, hunger in the hinterlands, and how farmers are dealing with the crisis (sign up here for The Last Mile, our newsletter with all the local Covid-19 news). While Banda district had only two positive cases as of the last official update, in rural and small-town India, the challenge of lockdown is largely one of access, or lack thereof, to basic goods and services. When people gather outside now, it is in endless, spread-apart lines, for food, rations, money, medicine, and healthcare (tuberculosis remains a prevalent issue, for example).
This fortnight, however, we’re taking a peek into people’s homes and –– that lifeline (with strings attached) to the larger world –– their phones. Just as in India’s bigger urban agglomerations, while some people engage creatively with Covid-19, others deal by throwing themselves into more escapist art, entertainment and cookery. And while people are spending more time playing PUBG and Ludo across the country, the rural Hindi belt has a few more traditional and practical pastimes to offer.
SPREADING AWARENESS
Corona creativity spread faster than the virus itself to the district of Varanasi (which has 14 positive cases as of the last update), along with Modi’s announcement of a Janata Curfew on March 22. Local folk artist Deepak Singh, famous for singing birha, a genre of Bhojpuri songs about separated lovers, was inspired by the message to try a different kind of tune. We met him after he appeared on Doordarshan, performing his awareness song about isolating.
“As a singer, I respond to whatever is going on in the world,” Deepak told us. “Right now that’s corona. I’m trying to raise public awareness.”
In Naraini, a town about 40km south of Banda sheher, folksinger Munna Rahi had a similar message, albeit without so much bald praise for the PM. We met him at home, composing line after line in his copybook. “I write songs about anything topical,” he said. “And the purpose of my songs is to inform people, to ensure brotherhood and oneness. So when something like a pandemic happens, we are prepared to fight it together.”
While the two singers represent regional folk traditions, other people are busy raising awareness and disseminating information in more tech-savvy ways. Chhaya and Chhavi Sharma, two nerdy school-going sisters in the Kulpahar area of the town of Mahoba (this district has no Covid-19 cases yet), started a YouTube channel to disseminate information about the pandemic.
“We began making videos because people were not obeying the lockdown and leaving the house,” said Chhaya, who is in 10th Class. The two read newspapers and reputable websites to glean as much information as they can, then package it into short, themed videos. The girls wear an assortment of striking message shirts (“No to Corona” in gold Hindi lettering, for example).
They’ve made over 24 videos including on time management tips, DIY mask instructions, ayurvedic and home remedies for alleviating symptoms, interviews with doctors about how the virus works, and discussions on the importance of PPE. They’ve even released a video on parenting tips!
Their father, Mukesh Kumar, couldn’t be more proud. “This is a good form of service,” he said. “And the lockdown is a good opportunity for them to do this, since these days we’re all eating together, chatting together, studying together. Even we don’t understand half this stuff. They read up and then tell us about it.”
VIRAL CONTENT
Many content creators though are more firmly in the business of entertaining rather than informing. Baba Sehgal was a bit ahead of the curve with the release of his “Namaste” video about a month ago, but there’s a deluge of regional language music on the internet now featuring corona as muse and mortal enemy. (Don’t ask us how they’ve been recorded –– although in the case of this tune from Mathura, the composer just sang it himself.)
One of the most viral hits is the Bhojpuri number “Corona Ke Mausi Zindabad”, a highly unoriginal spin-off of a Holi hit song “‘Bhatijwa Ke Mausi Zindabad’ With Salman Khan lending his cringingly auto-tuned voice to another recent entry into the race to the aesthetic bottom, some attempts feel like blatant attempts to cash in on a craze. Though one can’t really blame performers who are facing cancelled shows and projects on hiatus. One viral TikTok video from user Rupesh Bihari pokes fun at the ethical ambiguity of corona content:
In a video that crossed 9.5 million views, Rupesh plays the virus personified with a devil filter, on the phone with his mother, who wants to know where corona beta is. “India is very dangerous!” she warns him. “Yes mother,” he agrees, “the Biharis rub chuna and tobacco together, the people in UP kill you with alcohol, and the Banaras-wallas spit you out with paan!” Another video finds black humour in hunger, police violence and the questions of journalists; while this one is a satirical paean to Modi Chacha.
Patna-based comedian Akhilesh has also had several of his Bhojpuri corona-centric TikTok videos go viral. In a little rhyme about paranoia he sings saltily, “If you cough, it’s a cough, if I cough it’s corona.”
In another, he shares a message from the Indian police:
Is it possible we’ll emerge from lockdown with more satire on TikTok and fewer mindless toilet-seat-licking and celebrity acid attack challenges?
TRADITIONAL PURSUITS
Not everyone wants to think about Covid-19 all day and night, however. In Naraini, we asked rising star singer Vijeta Anuragi whether she’d penned any lyrics about the virus or the lockdown. “No,” she replied awkwardly. “Such songs are fine to spread awareness for uneducated people…” The classically trained singer added, “I also haven’t written anything because I’m quite tense. One needs freedom to be creative, not to be boxed in by walls.”
Vijeta used to go to nearby Atarra daily to learn from her guru. “I’m feeling a bit caged now,” she said. “I came first place in a competition and was preparing for the next stage at the state’s Sangeet Natak Akademi in Lucknow. That’s been postponed, or who knows, maybe cancelled.”
Vijeta practices at home as much as she can. She sang the thumri she was preparing for us, the classic “Babul More Naihar Chhooto Jaye”, written by Wajid Ali Shah, the last nawabh of Awadh, to express his feelings of being exiled from Lucknow.
Vijeta also performs light classical and more filmy music at local events, where her floppy hair and suits channel young Shammi Kapoor. With all the shows cancelled, Vijeta and her sisters practice dance moves at home, enjoying the rare family time.
For others, family time means reviving traditions in the kitchen, and passing them on to children. Nazni Rizwi, a Khabar Lahariya reporter, took advantage of a lull between stories to teach her daughter how to make gud chawal (jaggery rice), which she says was once a very popular dish. “People are drinking jaggery tea because it’s believed that jaggery is good for your lungs,” she pointed out. “So I thought, why not make a traditional dish?”
In the village of Bhawai, not too far from Naraini, cooking is a mostly utilitarian affair, and the people don’t feel much like singing. When we visited on April 1, with no work to do, people were sitting in front of their homes and making rope the traditional way, using natural fibres. “Everyone is worried,” said Shyamlal, “the children want to go out, but we can’t take them anywhere.” Weaving and treating the rope, which will be used to restring charpais, is a useful distraction.
SEXIST HUMOUR
In Bhawai, a few weeks after we met people making rope, a young man there told us there wasn’t much to do but loll about on those freshly restrung charpais and play PUBG. But when we asked the women of the village whether their workload had reduced, the answer was an emphatic “no”. A few men claimed to be helping out around the house, but the women were the ones able to rattle off their daily routines: constant dish-scrubbing, cleaning, and feeding and taking care of animals, children, and husbands.
KL’s reporters were further dismayed to see that many of the forwards men now had (too much) time to share on Facebook and Whatsapp were garden variety sexist jokes.
“It’s taking her hours to find a mask that matches her sari…”
Seeing people they knew or had interviewed sharing this sort of thing made their feminist hackles rise. Reporters confronted some of the men on Facebook, and, in at least one case, on camera and in person. KL’s bureau chief Meera Devi actually paid a visit to a locally prominent BJP member after coming across one patni joke too many. His excuse was sheepish, but not not exactly apologetic. “You see,” he mansplained, “the world’s greatest comedian, Charlie Chaplin, said that ‘Laughing on yourself is the best comedy.’ [We believe the actual quote is ““It takes courage to make a fool of yourself.”] So in a way, when I make a joke about my wife, I’m also laughing at myself.”
Wife: “Hey you, better wash the dishes and peel the peas otherwise there will be a lockdown in the kitchen.” Husband: “Modi Ji, how do I save myself from the dangerous virus inside the house?
Some men argue that this sort of thing is not meant to hurt feelings, but with no visible decrease of crimes against women despite the lockdown, the reporters at KL haven’t exactly been in the mood to take their teasing with a pinch of salt.
KEEP ON KEEPING ON
In the areas where KL reports, for the most part, people who have access to the essentials are staying patient about the lockdown situation. Even some local authorities have gone beyond food distribution and ventured into finding creative solutions for their areas. Narendra Mishra, a municipal councilor in Chitrakoot Dham/Karwi, saw images of sanitisation tunnels abroad, and created his own jugaad version using disinfectants, an air cooler and tenting materials. He was planning to install them at major intersections, and in front of more frequented places, like banks.
The authorities aren’t always in sync with the letter of the law though. For example, we witnessed a somewhat questionable case of a lockdown marriage on April 22, arranged by two pradhans in Khaptiha Kalan village, Banda.
The ceremony took place outside a locked Kali Devi temple, and the guests –– eight to ten of them –– were made to wash their hands and wear masks beforehand. “We’ve followed social distancing,” all the participants insisted.
If the lockdown is extended further, it’s clear that more people will start bending or breaking the rules, unless they see the virus actually spread into their areas. No amount of awareness-spreading folk songs or instructional YouTube videos can prevent that. As the longer term fallout of Covid-19 becomes clearer –– in terms of access to healthcare, farmers’ lives, and labour patterns –– stay tuned for more in-depth reporting from the hinterland.