Form, Macht, Differenz - GWDG

182 William S. Sax
of the challenges it poses to our conventional ideas of embodiment. But beyond that,
it is interesting to see what happens to the practice of “possession” in regions of social
space where it is no longer acceptable.
The research on which this essay is based was undertaken in the north Indian state
of Uttarakhand, which lies at the junction of India, Tibet, and Northwest Nepal and
is culturally very diverse. Its numerous ethnic groups speak languages from three different
language families; the population includes Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims, Sikhs,
Animists, and Christians; most people in the state are farmers, some are transhumant,
others are nomads, a few live in cities, and a very few are hunters and gatherers; and
of course there are the various castes. Although Muslims make up slightly more than
10% of the population, the overwhelming majority of them are concentrated in the
North Indian plains and in some of the larger towns in the hills, however they are nearly
absent from the rural mountain areas that make up the majority of the state. The exception
for these rural areas are many widely scattered, small hamlets consisting exclusively
of Muslims. Virtually no research has been done on them. In Chamoli District these
Muslims are of very low caste, at approximately the same level of the social hierarchy as
the Harijans or Dalits, some of whom were formerly known as “Untouchables.” Rural
Muslims sometimes, but with decreasing frequency, marry persons from these low
castes. Traditionally, their primary occupation was making and selling glass bangles,
which is why they used to be called culyor or “banglers.” Some people claim they are
descended from soldiers of the Mughal Emperors who settled in the hills, but I have
found no evidence of this.
In the 1980s and 90s the Muslims in Firozpur, a small hamlet near Rudraprayag
that I regularly visited over a long period, did not emphasize their separate identity.
The language and dress of both men and women were almost indistinguishable from
their Hindu neighbours, and they participated in many of the Hindu festivals. As one
Muslim woman from Firozpur said to me, “We are just like them, only we celebrate two
sets of festivals instead of one.” One senior male said,
when there is a wedding, or a funeral ritual for someone’s parent, they (the Hindus) call me.
I think that’s good, and I eat their food. But how can I reciprocate? 1 So I’ve made my own
system, sitting here in my home: I call some Sarola Brahmans 2 to cook the food. It costs
me a bit of money, but so what? […] Of course the Hindus say they won’t eat our food […]
but I always tell them they can eat at my home if they wish. And when on some occasions
we cook meat, they are glad to eat it! In our major festivals I order a big goat, with at least
25–30 kilos of meat on it, but it’s still never enough for us, because so many of them come
to eat meat […].
Of greater significance for my argument here is the fact that until recently at least, rural
Muslims throughout the region were deeply involved in Hindu religious practices,
including the worship of local devtas (gods and spirits). An elderly Muslim told me the
following story: