Indian graziers recently had a confrontation with Chinese soldiers in eastern Ladakh and the patriotic fervour of these venturous gypsies came alive. During my stint along the Line of Control in Jammu and Kashmir, we had developed a good rapport with the locals, including the nomadic graziers — Gujjars and Bakerwals. It proved to be beneficial for both sides.
Uncertainty prevails on the frontline. Though the environment is serene and calm, it gets frequently shattered by the intermittent trans-LoC firing of small arms. Occasionally, the fragile peace is smashed with the exploding of mortar and artillery shells.
One misty cold morning, as hazy dark clouds engulfed our forward posts and blurred the observation of sentries, the familiar sound of wood being cut was heard from the adjoining hill slope. It raised our suspicion.
The patrol operating in the vicinity was promptly rushed to the area. As it skirted a hamlet, it were again the omnipresent graziers who greeted them and reconfirmed the location of the transgression.https://d09d15ffbf0999993fa91526acfee584.safeframe.googlesyndication.com/safeframe/1-0-40/html/container.html
Descending the slope, the patrol personnel hurriedly took cover behind the boulders. “Hands up,” roared the patrol leader on confronting the miscreants. Two blokes emerged from the shadows and tried to flee. To avoid collateral damage, they were not fired upon, but surrounded and nabbed. The plucky graziers’ timely assistance had eased much of our consternation.
Living inadequate lives, these graziers remain indifferent to the dangers of being exposed to unabated firing. It is a sight to behold when the meadows are dotted with goats and sheep grazing calmly, oblivious of the dangers that lurk from our adversary’s aggressive interruptions. The nomadic processions of these spirited graziers also provide an inherent surveillance backup.
I often stumbled upon these graziers while they trekked on, winding their way, managing their sheep, goats, cattle and baggage-laden horses. Following them would be their sprightly dogs, and women and children in tow, some astride their horses.
During a long-range patrol in the interior, thickly-forested mountainous regions of J&K, one of our surefooted soldiers was suddenly noticed limping badly and lagging behind. He was unable to keep pace with the rest of us while trudging on the steep bridle path. The medical officer examined him and frantically announced that symptoms of frostbite were affecting his swollen toes and he needed prompt warmth.
The amiable graziers rearing their sheep at some distance readily took us to their ‘dhok’ and provided all the assistance.
On its part, the Indian Army, too, graciously provides them with medical aid and any assistance as these graziers, stoically and courageously, bear the brunt and occasionally suffer loss of life and limbs when their cattle and hutments are targeted in hostile firing.
Whistling loudly is the forte of these graziers. Sharp, squeaking whistles intended to rein in their flocks announce the presence of these nomads moving in hordes. Shrill, piercing whistles let out with twisted lips while moving on their uphill trek is a sure signal of the onset of summers. And when they commence descending, it is a clear announcement of the arrival of winter.
Primitive in thought and frozen in time, but happy-go-lucky in their attitude — singing, whistling, swaying with their livestock, trying to whip in their herds — they claim their right of way as they dot the roads and tracks while they move to their traditional pastures.
The incessant winter this year has laden the mountain glens and meadows with heavy snow. Consequently, the uphill trek of the nomadic graziers to their time-honoured pastures is also delayed.
They are the unheralded guardians of our frontiers, the gypsies for whom constant movement defines life.