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Babu Farari

The polyvocal narrative of a village bandit in Central India [online narrative]
Tommaso Sbriccoli


Cet article, qui s’appuie sur des recherches menées dans le village de Jamgod (Inde, État de Madhya Pradesh), présente l’histoire de Babu Farari, un hors-la-loi qui vivait et opérait dans la région dans les années 1950. Rencontré pour la première fois au cours du travail de terrain comme une légende sur un bandit social local, le personnage de Babu a acquis une complexité plus profonde et tridimensionnelle. Son histoire a été reconstituée ici à partir de fragments d’ethnographie, d’entretiens et de conversations, ainsi que d’informations contenues dans les notes de terrain de Mayer, un anthropologue qui a effectué des recherches dans le même village lorsque Babu Farari était vivant. Ce récit polyvocal montre une « légende en train de se faire » et donne un aperçu de la manière dont les histoires sont intégrées dans des cadres sociaux et politiques plus larges et dont l’histoire locale n'acquiert de sens que par rapport aux événements sociaux et politiques contemporains. Les multiples Babu Farari qui m’ont été narrés sont autant de versions des économies morales actuelles et des éthiques populaires sur l’État, le pouvoir et la construction du soi.

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  • 1 Bhils are designated as a Scheduled Tribe in Madhya Pradesh, and Kanjars as a Scheduled Caste. Sch (...)
  • 2 Mayer’s most important work on Jamgod is Caste and Kinship in Central India, Berkeley & Los Angele (...)

1Sometime in the early 1960s, in the village of Jamgod, Madhya Pradesh, a man named Babu was shot in the chest and killed behind the temple of Durga Mata, along what is now State Highway 18. Babu Bhil, better known locally as Babu Farari (“Babu the fugitive”), was a brigand. Supposedly he had joined a gang of six or eight other Bhils from Jamgod and Kanjars from a nearby hamlet.1 This is the story of Babu Farari, as I reconstructed it during my fieldwork through interviews and conversations. In doing so, as no documents could be retrieved from police or other official archives, I had to rely almost exclusively on memories and stories recalled by villagers. I say “almost,” because Babu is also mentioned in the fieldnotes of Adrian C. Mayer, a British anthropologist who intensively studied Jamgod in 1954–1956 and returned to conduct further research in the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s.2 I myself conducted research in Jamgod in 2012–2014 for a restudy project based at SOAS, which allowed me access to Mayer’s material. This is the only historical written material on which some of the information here presented draws.

Fig. 1. Temple of Durga, Jamgod, 2013

Fig. 1. Temple of Durga, Jamgod, 2013

The Durga Temple in Jamgod, along SH18, behind which Babu Farari was supposedly killed.

Photo : Daniela Neri

2I became interested in Babu’s story after his name and reputation came up accidentally during one of the many informal conversations an anthropologist carries out daily in the field. Since then, I have devoted part of my research effort to reconstruct the events of his life, by interviewing all the people I could find who had the chance to meet him or those who were related to him in one way or another. When I realized that Babu had become a legendary figure in the village, I also started to enquire about him with villagers who neither were linked to him nor had personally known him, in order to better grasp the extent to which he was renowned and to collect the existing versions of his story.

  • 3 Eric J. Hobsbawm, Primitive Rebels: Studies in Archaic Forms of Social Movement in the 19th and 20 (...)

3Therefore, the interest of the narrative offered here mostly lies in providing multiple perspectives on the life and deeds of a one-time bandit from a series of interviewees, whose views change according to age, position within local hierarchies of power and caste, and proximity to the events. First encountered during fieldwork as a legend about a local social bandit, the figure of Babu Bhil grew to acquire a deeper, three-dimensional complexity. In this sense, this polyvocal narrative tells us something about the relation between, on the one hand, actual behavior and “real” events in outlaws’ careers and, on the other, the subsequent representation of their lives in folk culture – a subject of much debate since the publication of Hobsbawm’s works on rebels and bandits.3 In fact, it shows a “legend in the making” and provides insight into the way in which stories are embedded within wider social and political frameworks and how local history acquires meaning only in relation to contemporary social and political events. Indeed, details in the various narratives about Babu Farari’s life give rise to features of present-day local moral economies and folk ethics about state, power and the self.

4The first person who told me about Babu Farari was Rameshan Rathore, a man in his 60s belonging to the Teli (formerly oil pressers, the Teli enjoy an intermediary status in the local hierarchy). Rathore was a child at the time of the events. We were discussing how the Maharaja of Dewas used to visit Jamgod to hunt. The Maharaja stayed in the same bangla (cottage) where Mayer lived while conducting his fieldwork in the 1950s, during which time the Maharaja would select villagers to help in the hunt. Those selected received a financial reward. Rathore recalled one occasion when a patel (head of village) insulted the Maharaja for not shooting properly at a huge tiger that, though wounded but not killed, was spreading panic in the village. To resolve the situation, the patel took the carbine from the Maharaja’s hands and shot the animal. At this point in our conversation, Rameshan seemed to detect a connection with the story he had just recounted and started to tell me about a village “ākū” (bandit), a Bhil.

“One day the police arrived in the village and caught some people. They made them stand, handcuffed, in a row in front of the kacaharī (local court). Babu, who was from the same lineage of Tufan, our stableman, broke the handcuffs and ran away before the police could even realize what was happening. He ran on the Kankun road, where at that time there was a thick jungle, and disappeared. He was part of a gang, I think, and I seem to remember that Amar Singh Bhil was one of the members. Babu was huge! They don’t make men like him anymore. He could easily lift 200 kg. One day, while he was relaxing as usual at Durga Temple, he saw a bell cart on which four men had placed a barrel. He started to laugh, making fun of the weakness of those people. When they started to protest, he approached the chart and with only one hand set the barrel down and immediately raised it up again, putting it back on the cart. He was a bandit and mostly stole from houses and travelers, but he was a great man. And he never stole anything in the village. He protected the village from foreign thieves”.

Fig. 2. Kacahari, Jamgod, 2013

Fig. 2. Kacahari, Jamgod, 2013

Men sitting in front of Jamgod’s Kacahari (local court), which was recently demolished. Here in the 50s, according to one version of the story, Babu Farari managed to escape from the police after being arrested.

5Babu is presented as a man of extraordinary size and strength, a sort of gentleman thief. He is a bandit, and wanted by the police, but still he maintains relations with villagers. Though Rameshan was just a boy at the time, he told me he actually met Babu in person:

“One day, I was 12 or 13, I was bringing some sweets to my father in the fields. I put them in a basket on my head. At some point, I felt something was pulling the basket. I turned back and saw a huge man in front of me, who had laid the basket on his shoulder. He asked me the name of my father and, when I replied, he said: “Very well, my son.” He then took only two sweets from the basket, gave it back to me, and said: “Go on now.” That man was Babu Farari”.

6Once again, Rathore highlights Babu’s size, gentleness and familiarity with local people and families. A similar depiction of Babu’s character is given by Balu, a man belonging to a low caste, the Chamars, whom I interviewed because he, too, was a small boy in the 1950s and could have had a direct encounter with Babu or, at least, offer a “perspective from the margins.”

“Babu Farari was about 15 when he started banditry. He was not in a gang, he was alone. His body was huge and he was so strong! He weighed 180 kg! This is because he used to eat very well. While most of the people were almost starving, he ate a lot of ghee and milk. He stole them from houses. He was not a goonda (a criminal). He only made small thefts, but never in the village”.

7A poor man from a community of low status, Balu had memories that focus on hunger during that period. Babu Bhil also came from a poor farming family, yet somehow he had managed to find a way to overcome hardship and deprivation. Furthermore, in Balu’s telling, Babu becomes a solitary bandit, evading the police and committing his thefts in places far from Jamgod. A man of the same generation as Rameshan and Balu, Banne Singh was one of the patels of Jamgod during my fieldwork. Rajput by caste, he served as sarpanch (head of the village-level assembly) for two mandates between the 1970s and the 1980s, and he was a member of the upper echelons of the village power hierarchy. During fieldwork, I often used to spend some time with Banne Singh, then already retired from public life, on his house’s veranda, discussing the golden past and contemporary moral dissolution. I imagined that for him Babu Farari’s story could be a much-appreciated topic to dwell on.

“Babu Farari was a farmer. Then he had some problems, don’t know what, and started doing some small thefts. Nothing serious. But the police caught him and beat him up. Somehow he managed to escape and for 15 years he has been a fugitive. They tried hard but could not catch him! [laughs]. He was a good man. If one is starving, what is one supposed to do? In this case, some forms of theft are legitimate. He never stole in Jamgod, only in other villages. I was a small boy and I don’t remember whether he was alone or in a gang. But I remember him often coming to some festivals (mēlā) and buying sweets for us children. And then he told us: “I am giving you these sweets, but if you see the police you must inform me, OK?””.

8The moral justification for a brigand’s actions becomes explicit here, whereas in the other accounts such justifications were only implied. Hunger is seen as a just reason to steal, as long as you don’t steal from your neighbors. Hence the men in power in the village at the time, the patels, seem to have ignored, if not protected, Babu Farari. Banne Singh in fact continues:

  • 4 Dule Singh, along with Banne Singh, was one of the two village patels when I did research in Jamgo (...)

Patels like my father or the father of Dule Singh4 took no actions against Babu. That was not their job! Back then, if someone was causing problems in the village, the patels would assemble 10 men and they would all go out and set the person straight. But Babu was only absconding, and did nothing bad in the village; on the contrary, he protected Jamgod from outside thieves! Nowadays nobody takes any action against local badamāś (rogues), everybody minds his own business. Sometimes people call the police, but on average everybody does what he wants”.

  • 5 Anton Blok, “The Peasant and the Brigand: Social Banditry Reconsidered,” Comparative Studies in So (...)

9Evidently, Babu must have had some connections with powerful locals to be able to escape from the police for so many years. A man of humble origin, and as such revered by people like Balu and Rameshan, he nonetheless was linked to local elites, in a socio-political configuration that often characterizes “social” networks of bandits.5 In this regard, the daughter of Babu Bhil, Kamla Bai, provides us with interesting memories. A woman in her late 50s, Kamla was just a few years old when her father died. She remembers he came back home very rarely, but also that he had important contacts with local “big men.”

“I remember that sometimes my father came back home with very important men (bae ādmī) of the village. They respected him. He did not steal in the village, only far from here. And in Jamgod he helped children, he was always nice to them.”

10Kamla describes her father in the same terms used by my previous interlocutors, as an extraordinary man:

“When he had meat, he could eat one kilo all by himself! And he ate a lot of gu (jaggery) and ghee. He was a very big man, and he was so strong. When he was killed, they took out his heart and it weighted 5 kilos! And the blood! His blood spread from the spot where he died all the way to Dewas [the administrative capital of the district, 11 km from Jamgod]. He had so much blood in his body!”

11Similar accounts about Babu’s strength and size become increasingly legendary the more I talked to younger men, those born after Babu’s death. Munna is a Brahman in his late 40s. When I asked him about Babu Farari, he said:

“He was a huge man! Men like him no longer exist and will never exist again in the future. He could lift 350 kilos, just putting them under his armpit. He did not steal in the village, but only outside. And mostly he stole food, usually ghee. He protected the village. If someone from outside managed to steal from some houses here, in a short time Babu would find the culprit and bring back everything to the owner.”

12In a similar fashion, Rajesh, a farmer in his 40s belonging to the now locally dominant Khati community, provided me with his own knowledge of Babu and added an important element.

“Babu Farari was huge! His body was twice that of a normal man. And he ate a lot. Mostly he ate ghee. When he robbed houses, the first thing he took was the bowl of ghee that in the past people always kept close to the fire so that it would remain liquid. After the hit, when he came back to Jamgod, he distributed the booty to villagers. He was a good man. He was killed by the police, shot in the chest. But he managed to evade them for over 10 years.”

13Rajesh was not yet born when Babu died and he thus had only a second-hand knowledge of his story, which is why I interviewed him. In Rajesh’s account, the figure of Babu acquires most of the typical features of a social bandit: a strong, brave, just man who would redistribute wealth to poor local villagers. So far we have heard from those who were either children in Babu’s time or had yet to be born. If we shift our attention to testimonies of older people – those in their teens or older when Babu was alive – his story becomes more detailed and precise, and their moral assessments of his character grow less enthusiastic.

14Anokhi, an old man belonging to the barber caste, was a teenager at the time of the events. He recounts what he knows of Babu’s story:

“Babu was in a gang composed of eight people, four Bhils from Jamgod and four Kanjars from the hamlet nearby. The ones from Jamgod were Babu, Poonam Sikari [śikārī, literally “the hunter”], Mulchand and his son, Amar Singh. One day 24 policemen came to the village. They split up into four groups and started to search the area. They were dressed as hunters and pretended to be hunting. They found a group of four persons sitting at Nag Maharaj Temple, on the Pipliya road. They were Kanjars. As soon as the Kanjars realized what was happening, they ran away. But one of them remained behind and was shot in the leg. They arrested him, and he gave the names of all the gang’s members. After that, the police went looking for them all the time. I know this because I was in charge of preparing meals for the policemen during this sting.”

15In Anokhi’s testimony, the contours of events begin to become more clearly defined. The gang was composed of members from the Bhil and Kanjar communities. The Kanjar are famous for being labeled a “criminal tribe” during colonial times, although their fame as thieves is also quite widespread among locals. The Bhil members were Babu, Mulchand, Mulchand’s son, Amar Singh, and Poonam. Babu was not a lone bandit, although he likely became a lone fugitive later on. Anokhi’s story continues:

“Once, Babu was caught by an old policeman. Although he was handcuffed, he kicked the policeman, who fell on the ground, and released himself. From that moment on, he kept saying that the police would never catch him alive and they would have to content themselves with arresting his corpse. And so it was! People say he was killed by the police, at the Durga Temple, where he often went. But at the time there were rumors that he was actually killed by the family of a girl belonging to the Naita Muslim community whom he had kidnapped and sold. But nobody in the village betrayed him. Partly because people feared him, but also because he was one of us, and in the village he never did anything wrong. People considered him a good man, although of course everybody knew he was a thief.”

16Something similar to Anokhi’s last sentiment was expressed by a group of old men passing the time playing cards in front of the Shiva Temple, in the centre of the village, when I asked them about Babu:

“We knew him! He lifted a box weighting 200 kilos under his armpit. Nobody here ever gave information about him to the police. Why should we? We did not know what he was actually doing outside Jamgod, although we knew he was a thief, but here in the village he never did anything wrong, he was a good man. He was one of us.”

17Although both accounts present a picture of Babu as a good man, as “one of us,” he is nonetheless depicted for the first time as a thief (cōr), a word which has neither a positive nor a romantic aura. In previous accounts, he was a fugitive (farār) or an outlaw (ākū), and his gentleness, strength, and braveness were highlighted. We can start to identify the trajectory that has transformed Babu from a local thief with ties to other villagers – and powerful ones too, which allowed him to avoid arrest for years – into a locally romanticized figure, a social bandit, a villager to be proud of and whose deeds and merits ought to be recounted.

18Amar Singh, the son of Mulchand Bhil and a member of Babu’s gang (whose boss, according to some villagers, was a Kanjar named Rugha), provided an extremely incomplete account of those times in an interview. He said:

“Babu was my uncle, and he remained a fugitive for seven years. Finally, the police killed him behind Durga Temple. He was alone and not in a gang. Sometimes he worked together with Poonam Sikari, but mostly he was alone. He was very strong. He could lift a 150 kg sack (bōrī). He never stole in the village, only outside. But you should ask your guru [A.C. Mayer], he was here in that period, he will know better than me.”

19Let’s follow Amar Singh’s advice and have a look at Mayer’s fieldnotes.

20In a note dated August 10, 1954, Ram Singh, a village patel, tells Mayer that:

“Kooka Bhil’s son [Babu] is fugitive from justice for last 2 years. He, Poonam and Moolchand used to go stealing with Kanjars in nearby villages. They were caught – latter two put in jail and then case dismissed and they returned.”

21So there had been an arrest, probably in 1952, and while Babu ran away, two of his gang’s members were caught. However, the case was dismissed. In fact, in the two-year period covered by Mayer’s fieldnotes (1954–1956), we find the same persons going into and coming out of jail.

22In a note dated November 12, 1954, we find the following account:

“Police came last night and arrested Punam Chand, Pratap, his brother, Antar S. Bhil, Bonda son of Ramzan, Mulchand’s son. Presumed wanted for dacoity in other villages. Not know if any property has been found, but police must know something to arrest them.”

23Interestingly, one of the people arrested was Amar Singh, Mulchand’s son and nephew of Babu, who did not tell me anything about his past life as a “ḍākū” (which is confirmed by three other people I interviewed in the field).

24Again from Mayer, we read that on November 30, 1954:

“The police today unearthed a lot from Kooka’s, and so Babu’s, house. Jewelry, bangles, some gold and many clothes. General opinion: how foolish to hide it in a house.”

25Here is a note dated July 9, 1956:

“Amar Singh jailed for four months, the rest acquitted. He had gun, they said [it was] stolen. It was not, but he had no license.”

26In another note, dated February 12, 1955, it is reported:

“Mulchand returns today. Case not over yet. Has had rps 1000 bail, given by Hari Chand Ahir. The other have not been released yet. (No bail given? Mulchand’s son is amongst them.)”

27Apart from the ongoing investigations into Babu, and the attainment of new evidence against him, it is interesting to note that the other supposed members of his gang enjoyed a special relationship with the police at the time, going into and coming out of jail, paying bail (with money given or lent, as the last note shows, also by men of other communities supposedly not involved in the gang’s activities), and probably continuing to commit heists between one arrest and the other.

  • 6 Tommaso Sbriccoli, “Between the Archive and the Village: The Lives of Photographs in Time and Spac (...)
  • 7 Stewart N. Gordon, “Scarf and Sword: Thugs, Marauders, and State-formation in 18th-Century Malwa,” (...)

28This is what one would actually expect in a context like that of rural Malwa, the region where Jamgod lies. Local power relations, embedded in networks of patronage and corruption involving village and urban elites, police and state officials, often leave ample wiggle room to negotiate a person’s status in the eyes of the law. Sharing loot with patrons, “physically” supporting elites in local power struggles, and bribing officials are all ways by which one could easily establish a life at the intersection of legality and illegality, as long as one was ready to spend some time in jail (a part of the negotiation process). After all, many Bhils were the allies of the dominant Rajputs in Jamgod until at least the 1980s,6 performing violence and acts of intimidation in exchange for protection and material benefits. This way of using local “criminals” as political and economic assets is, after all, not that dissimilar to models of local dacoity in the region during the 18th and 19th centuries, as described, for instance, by Gordon and Wagner.7 And this is most likely the kind of relationship and life that Mulchand, Amar Singh and Poonam Sikari chose to enter into. Babu decided to become Farari instead.

29It is unclear whether there was a particular event which led Babu to abandon the “negotiation” style of dacoity that his “colleagues” practiced and become a real outlaw. I can only hypothesize about what happened after.

30Around 1952, probably after a series of thefts in the area of which people from Jamgod were suspected, the police came from Dewas for a big sting. They caught one Kanjar who eventually gave the names of the other members of the gang. Police thus came back to Jamgod to arrest them. While Mulchand and Poonam were caught, or let themselves be arrested, Babu decided to abscond. We can suppose he had already been caught once in the past by the police and badly beaten (as recounted by Banne Singh), and eventually developed a hatred for state institutions that led him to make this choice. After that, he spent years as a fugitive, hiding out in the area and often coming back home to sleep and have meetings with local big men. He probably had his “headquarters” along the main road, at the Durga Temple. From there, he could manage his business, check the road, maybe rob a few passersby, and run into the jungle when in danger. Besides stealing, Babu could have committed himself to more serious illegal activities, including the crime that, according to Anokhi, he was actually killed for: kidnapping and selling young girls. His death most likely occurred at the beginning of the 1960s, when his son was a few months old and his daughter, Kamla Bai, six or seven.

  • 8 Jhunjhars are heroic warriors who died decapitated on the battlefield while protecting the local c (...)

31While Mulchand, Amar Singh, Poonam and the Kanjars’ deeds have been almost forgotten in the village, or are remembered only as the actions of a gang of thieves, Babu Bhil’s story has taken on the proportions of (albeit small) local myth: the legend of Babu Farari. The reasons for his killing, hardly honorable if Anokhi is to be believed, have given way to a much more exciting story about a standoff with police. No longer a mere thief, Babu is now depicted as a god-like man. His strength, height, size and appetite resemble those of Bhim, the giant hero of the Mahabarata. His deeds in protecting the village from predatory outsiders resonate with those of North India’s beloved type of hero-god, the jhunjhar.8 His insatiable hunger mirrors that of poor farmers. His feasts of ghee, milk and jaggery offer people an old dreamlike image of possible social emancipation and physical satisfaction. His sharing of loot with villagers inspires hope for a redistributive and fair local economy. His resistance to police and his fugitive life project an ideal of freedom from the power relations that constrain people’s choices and possibilities, even if that freedom is embedded within local relational networks.

32From a thief protected by his connections to local power elites and by his being “one of us,” Babu has, over time, grown to become, firstly, a gentleman brigand who shares the more romantic features of Hobsbawm’s social bandits, and, secondly, a god-like hero-fied fugitive who embodies specific relations to authority (resistance), other people (solidarity) and the self (freedom from social constraints), all of which reflects the ethos, imagery and expectations of contemporary locals, who turn to the past to project hope for future (im)possible emancipation.


33The research for this article was part of the project “Rural Change and Anthropological Knowledge in Post-Colonial India: A Comparative ‘Restudy’ of F.G. Bailey, Adrian C. Mayer and David F. Pocock” (ESRC, ES/I02123X/1).

34I thank Adrian Mayer, Lucia Michelutti, David Picherit and the peer reviewers, who commented generously on an earlier draft, and Will Schutt for proofreading the final version of the piece.

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1 Bhils are designated as a Scheduled Tribe in Madhya Pradesh, and Kanjars as a Scheduled Caste. Scheduled Castes and Tribes are groups of people designated because of their historical social conditions of marginality, exclusion and discrimination. These categories are recognized in the Constitution of India, where general principles of positive discrimination for them are laid down. In Malwa, the region of this study, Bhils occupy an intermediary status in villages and participate in village social life, while Kanjars, considered as a Criminal Tribe during British colonial rule and denotified as such only in 1952, are living at the margins of social life, often inhabit autonomous hamlets, and still carry considerable social stigma.

2 Mayer’s most important work on Jamgod is Caste and Kinship in Central India, Berkeley & Los Angeles, University of California Press, 1960.

3 Eric J. Hobsbawm, Primitive Rebels: Studies in Archaic Forms of Social Movement in the 19th and 20th centuries, Manchester, Manchester University Press, 1959; id., Bandits, London, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1969.

4 Dule Singh, along with Banne Singh, was one of the two village patels when I did research in Jamgod. Since the position is hereditary, their fathers were both patels in the 1950s during Mayer’s fieldwork.

5 Anton Blok, “The Peasant and the Brigand: Social Banditry Reconsidered,” Comparative Studies in Society and History no. 14/4 (1972), pp. 494–503; id., Honour and Violence, Cambridge, Polity Press, 2001; Kim A. Wagner, “Thuggee and Social Banditry Reconsidered,” The Historical Journal no. 50/2 (2007), pp. 353–376.

6 Tommaso Sbriccoli, “Between the Archive and the Village: The Lives of Photographs in Time and Space,” Visual Studies no. 31/4 (2016), pp. 295–309.

7 Stewart N. Gordon, “Scarf and Sword: Thugs, Marauders, and State-formation in 18th-Century Malwa,” Indian Economic Social History Review no. 6/4 (1969), pp. 403–429; Wagner, “Thuggee and Social Banditry Reconsidered.” op. cit. Dacoity, coming from the Hindi word ḍākū (robber, outlaw), was defined under British law in India as a criminal offense and was seen to be a threat to civil society and the state. “Dacoits” were considered to mostly belong to criminal tribes and communities as defined by colonial rule.

8 Jhunjhars are heroic warriors who died decapitated on the battlefield while protecting the local community, often from thefts of village cattle (see Lindsey Harlan, Religion and Rajput Women: The Ethics of Protection in Contemporary Narratives, New Delhi, Mushiram Manohar Publishers, 1994).

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Table des illustrations

Titre Fig. 1. Temple of Durga, Jamgod, 2013
Légende The Durga Temple in Jamgod, along SH18, behind which Babu Farari was supposedly killed.
Crédits Photo : Daniela Neri
Fichier image/jpeg, 763k
Titre Fig. 2. Kacahari, Jamgod, 2013
Légende Men sitting in front of Jamgod’s Kacahari (local court), which was recently demolished. Here in the 50s, according to one version of the story, Babu Farari managed to escape from the police after being arrested.
Fichier image/jpeg, 510k
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Tommaso Sbriccoli, « Babu Farari »Terrain [En ligne], 74 | 2021, mis en ligne le 02 avril 2021, consulté le 19 avril 2024. URL : ; DOI :

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Tommaso Sbriccoli

University of Siena

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