The sun goes down and the skilfully sculpted figures of Shiva shimmer in the soft evening light. Soon the last motor launch will leave Elephanta Island for mainland Mumbai. Karuna Shinde picks up her basket of fruit and begins her long trek home to Morabunder.By the time she reaches the hamlet, the inky blue of the night sky reflects in the swirling waters of the sea. Inside her hut, she fetches the petromax lamp, takes stock of her day's collection, breaks bhakri (local bread) and prepares for the long night ahead.Elsewhere on the island, little oil lamps fight the darkness. Slowly, they fade out. A thousand souls sleep in a civilisation caught in a strange paradox. Morabunder and two other villages - Rajbunder and Shetbunder - lie west of Mumbai, an hour's boat ride away. They are typical Indian villages, yet different; they are three details appliqued on a historically unique island with traces of the Mauryan and Chalukyan civilisations. The people here identify with the legends associated with the seventh century Shaivite sculptures there. But they must also live with the ruthless pressures of contemporary commerce from the mainland.History and commerce make for good tourism; together they impact in untold ways on the lives of the Gharapuris, the original settlers of the island. For one, nobody calls them Gharapuris anymore..preferred-source-banner{ margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom:10px;} Elephanta is revered as an archaeological wonder; that a thousand people live amidst the stones is incidental. "You mean people have lived here for generations?" asks Rita Terence, an American tourist, in surprise. About 3,000 tourists visit the caves every day, oblivious to the steady rhythm of rural life.To live in Elephanta is to live with contradictions. It means to exist when your presence is ignored by the state, to live like a rustic in the face of urban attractions. Electricity is only a two-year-old phenomenon and phones are non-existent. The only newspapers are those carried by the tourists, and burning political issues of the country hardly matter here. Yet, the villagers pulled off a miracle in the recent panchayat elections. Seven women were voted to power, making the panchayat an all-women forum. Says sarpanch Girijabai with a sense of purpose: "Our first priority is to get water in our homes." At present, the villagers walk miles to fetch water. There's just one school but this hasn't stopped villagers from schooling themselves. Selling fruits and trinkets, many of them speak 'englees'.They still collect wood to light fires and go to Mumbai to get wheat pounded. "People buy food off the shelves there," says Venubhai Bhoir, in awe, hoping the panchayat will set up a flour mill.It is on such simple hopes that survival in these villages hinges. There may be just one school - Marathi medium - in the area, but this hasn't stopped the villagers from schooling themselves. Contradictions often call for a fine balancing act, which can be amusing at times. "I stand here like this, you take my photo," urges a young voice. "Only hundred rupees." It's Jayashree Mhatre, "VII standard pass in Marathi", in her traditional fisherwoman attire, trying to do a modelling act before a French tourist couple. After much haggling, the fee is halved and the couple get their stock picture of an ethnic Indian girl. Mhatre earns enough for a day. "We learned 'Englees' like this only, talking to all people from world," informs her uncle Vishnu, a fruit vendor, who has a stall on the 120th step to the caves. Makeshift stalls of fruits and trinkets line both sides of the imposing stairway. There are three tin-shed restaurants and an occasional stall that sells "minaral" water. Kursiwallahs ferry you up and down for "Rs 250 plus tips only". It's the local economy, of which most villagers are a part of.Says Vilas Patil, who sells trinkets: "Heritage doesn't fill stomachs, we need jobs." Between the offices of the Forest Department and the Maharashtra Tourist Development Corporation, there are just 30 jobs going. Agriculture is non-existent and industry unthinkable on a World Heritage Site. Survival, obviously, has a new meaning in Elephanta. Here only the sculptures are on the conservationists' agenda with those living amid them getting a footnote, if at all.Published By: AtMigration Published On: Feb 2, 1998--- ENDS ---
