Note 21 — C

From a note on the Chenchus of the Nallamalai hills, I gather that “a striking contrast is afforded between those who inhabit the belt of forest stretching from Venkatapuram to Bairnuti, and those who dwell in the jungle on the skirts of the great trunk road, which formed the chief means of communication between the principal towns until the Southern Mahratta railway diverted traffic into another channel. In the former we behold the Chenchu semi-civilised and clothed. He possesses flocks and herds, smiling fields and even gardens, and evinces an aptitude for barter. The superiority of the Bairnuti Chenchu has been brought about by the influence, example, labours, and generosity of a single Englishman, who built a substantial stone dwelling in the depths of the great Bairnuti forest. There also he erected indigo vats, and planted indigo, and a grove of choice mango grafts, orange and lime trees. He bought buffaloes, and by careful selection and breeding evolved a magnificent type. These buffaloes have now become almost entirely fruit-eaters, and are engaged in seeking for and devouring the forest fruits, which—particularly the mowhra and forest fig—litter the ground in vast quantities. This habit of fruit-eating imparts to their milk a peculiarly rich nutty flavour, and the cream is of abnormally rich quality. The Chenchus manufacture this into ghee (clarified butter), which they turn to profitable account. The brethren of the Bairnuti Chenchus dwelling in the forest of Pacherla present very different conditions of life. They accentuate their nakedness by a narrow bark thread bound round the waist, into which are thrust their arrows and knife. This is their full dress. The hair, they aver, is the great and natural covering of mankind. Why, therefore, violate the ordinary laws of nature by inventing supererogatory clothing? A missionary sportsman was fairly non-plussed by these arguments, particularly when his interlocutors pointed to a celebrated pass or gorge, through which the amorous Kristna is averred to have pursued and captured a fascinating Chenchu damsel. ‘You see,’ said the Chenchu logician, ‘the beauty of her form was so manifest in its rude simplicity that even the god could not resist it.’ En passant it may be noted that, when a Chenchu wishes to express superlative admiration of a belle, he compares her to a monkey. In his eyes, the supremest beauty of femininity is agility. The girl who can shin up a lofty tree, and bring him down fruit to eat is the acme of feminine perfection. ‘Ah, my sweet monkey girl,’ said a demoralised Chenchu, who was too idle to climb up a tree himself, ‘she has been climbing trees all day, and throwing me fruit. There is not a man in the forest who can climb like my monkey girl.’ The Chenchus are wisely employed by the authorities as road-police or Taliāris, to prevent highway dacoities. This is an astute piece of diplomacy. The Chenchus themselves are the only dacoits thereabouts, and the salary paid them as road-police is virtually blackmail to induce them to guarantee the freedom of the forest highways. The Chenchu barters the produce of the forests in which he lives, namely, honey and wax, deer horns and hides, tamarinds, wood apples (Feronia elephantum), and mowhra (Bassia latifolia) fruit and flowers, and realises a very considerable income from these sources. He reaps annually a rich harvest of hides and horns. The sāmbur (Cervus unicolor) and spotted deer (Cervus axis) shed their horns at certain seasons. These horns are hidden in the rank luxuriant grass. But, when the heat of the dry weather has withered it, the Chenchu applies fire to it by rubbing two dried sticks together, and, walking in the wake of the flames, picks up the horns disclosed to view by the reduction of the vegetation to ashes. He supplements this method with his bow and rifle, and by the latter means alone obtains his hides. The Chenchu is every bit as bad a shot as the average aboriginal. He rarely stalks, but, when he does, he makes up by his skill in woodcraft for his inexpertness with his gun. He understands the importance of not giving the deer a slant of his wind, and, if they catch a glimpse of him, he will stand motionless and black as the tree trunks around. The ambush by the salt-lick or water-hole, however, is his favourite method of sport. Here, fortified with a supply of the pungent-smelling liquor which he illicitly distils from the mowhra flower he will lie night and day ruthlessly murdering sāmbur, spotted deer, nilgai (Boselaphus tràgocamelus); four-horned antelope (Tetracerus quadricornis). Tigers often stalk down, and drink and roll in the pool, but the Chenchu dares not draw a bead on him. Perhaps the indifference of his shooting, of which he is conscious, deters him.” When in danger from tigers or leopards, the Chenchus climb a tree, and shout. The Chenchus recognise two distinct varieties of leopards called chirra puli and chirta puli, concerning which Blanford writes as follows.21 “Most of the sportsmen who have hunted in Central India, and many native shikāris (sportsmen) distinguish two forms, and in parts of the country there is some appearance of two races—a larger form that inhabits the hills and forests, and a smaller form commonly occurring in patches of grass and bushes amongst cultivated fields and gardens. The larger form is said to have a shorter tail, a longer head with an occipital crest, and clearly defined spots on a paler ground-colour. The smaller form has a comparatively longer tail, a rounder head, less clearly defined spots, and rougher fur. I cannot help suspecting that the difference is very often due to age.”