Sheep Sustained Their Tribe. But The Next Gen Has No Time For Herding

This feature is part of a series on four Indian films that have turned a though-provoking gaze on the environment and the indigenous people who strive to safeguard it. Read the detailed editor's note explaining what this series is about, and how it ties in with the recently concluded COP 28.

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DHARMA is the inherent nature of one’s reality. It’s eternal and a way for one to understand their duty, purpose and true calling in life. For the kurubas, a community in the Deccan region, dharma is shepherding. Since prehistoric times, they’ve been herding sheep, guided by a story that’s part of their oral culture. The legend, narrated in director Ankit Pogula’s 2023 documentary Herd Walk, goes like this: Muddigonda Muddavva had six sons, five of whom were farmers. The sixth, Padamgonda, wasn’t very productive, until his brothers told him to do something with his life. He started ploughing the fields, and hit upon an anthill, from which several sheep sprung out, whom he was unknowingly killing. At that moment, the clouds parted and a voice spoke from the sky: ‘Don’t hurt them. Protect the sheep and they in turn will take care of you.’ After that, Padamgonda started walking the sheep.

This tradition of herding the sheep continues till today. Shepherds walk over hills and rocky terrain, in rain and sun, herding thousands of sheep over almost 400 kilometres every year. Until a few years ago, the entire community was nomadic. The family travelled together, setting up a tent to rest wherever they could find space, with knowledge being passed on organically from one generation to the next. But over time, rules were put in place that required all children to attend school and no mobile schools were set up for these kids. This meant the women and children now stay back. The children receive an education that introduces them to mainstream society and often, they become uninterested in shepherding. “Shepherding is profitable, it's ecologically sustainable, but not aspirational. So people will prefer doing other work,” explains Pogula. 

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From daily wage earners to drivers and other service jobs, the kurubas prefer doing anything that doesn’t include herding sheep, and the elders of the community watch this transition from the sidelines. For instance, there’s Neelkanth Kurbar, fondly referred to as Neelkanth mama, who walked his family’s sheep for seven decades. But he was forced to give away his herd because his sons refused to walk the sheep. Instead, one of his sons has chosen to become a security personnel in an apartment complex. Similarly, Vajir Demannawer, who had a herd of about 125 sheep, had to sell half of them off to build a respectable house for his family, and lives with the knowledge that they’re a shepherd family only as long as he’s alive, since his son has clearly expressed a lack of interest in taking care of the herd after he’s gone. “For the youth, there’s a massive issue of identity. People want to look a certain way. They’re trying to see how they can fit into what are acceptable projections of society,” explains Pogula about why the younger generation is distancing itself from shepherding. “The other thing they’re not up for is the sheer physical rigour required.”

So for many such shepherds like Mama and Vajir, it’s a time of change. A lifestyle, a perspective, a way of life, a culture, a dharma - slowly but irrevocably disappearing. (However) simply yearning for a lack of change among the shepherding community while one goes about the business of figuring out their own purpose and identity isn’t the most empathetic response. As Pogula points out, “you cannot talk about the environment without talking about human aspiration.”

The shepherds understand this, doing what they can to provide the best for their families. But as they navigate this new and changing India, they have only the sheep to help them. They’re nomads and traditionally own no land, instead sharing a symbiotic relationship with the farmers they encounter on their route. Their sheep graze on a variety of medicinal plants and the farmers invite the herders to park the sheep on their land since the sheep’s dung is full of this medicinal strength which then goes into the soil and yields a stronger and higher quality crop. But now they compete with chemical fertilisers that kill all the nutrients of the plants, causing newfangled diseases among humans. Also, because they were allowed to stay on farms, historically, the shepherds felt no need to own land. Now, they must compete with sheep farms and sell their sheep for milk and meat, with consumers not recognising the superior quality of sheep that have been in the wild. “They [the shepherds] believe they are the last connect between the civil and the wild,” says Pogula. 

But even as they give in to it, the elders aren’t submissive to this change. While honouring and fulfilling their children’s wishes, they also recognise that they must come together to protect their dharma. At spaces like Bengaluru’s UnBox Festival, Mama talks about his life and shepherding, and drives home the importance of preserving this culture. Old and frail, he still walks energetically with the other shepherds, advising and counselling them where required. “When I met him, I was blown away by his sheer humility and his deep love for the animal and for nature,” says Pogula about Mama. “And a lot of anxiety about where the world is heading, in terms of the environment,” he adds. Mama also speaks passionately in Herd Walk, explaining why shepherding must be preserved. But finally, he’s accepting of the changes as they come his way.

And Pogula, in making the film, isn’t suggesting one go back to shepherding if that’s not of interest. But much like development in India shouldn’t be a blind mimicry of the west and should instead be a series of well thought out decisions leading to sustainable development, this yearning for aspiration shouldn’t simply copy others. “Everyone should have their own chance to explore. The only thing we want to talk about is, are we just doing copy paste or are we actually thinking through what we want to do?” questions Pogula. As a community that’s historically found stability in motion is now a community in transition, the thing that matters above all else is to be thoughtful and introspective when figuring out the way forward.

Instead of simply reprimanding the younger generation, treat this film like a part of the larger discourse around reimagining the future. Given what the documentary has taught us, what does a sustainable and respectful future now look like?

Images courtesy Ankit Pogula