Jewellery with hidden strings

In the picturesque Madhya Pradesh village Ghatgara in Dhar district, I came across an older woman wearing the most gorgeous silver jewellery. Even in rural MP, where women customarily wear bangles, rings, earrings and necklaces, her distinctive demeanour stopped me in my tracks. A large gold nose ring adorned her wrinkled face while multiple strands of silver necklaces glistened on her chest. Her arms were equally bejeweled and tattooed to boot, but it was her feet that had me riveted. Gorgeous toe rings tinkled gently as she walked, while solid, hand-crafted silver anklets encased her ankles. “Are you dressed this way for a wedding,” I asked. She cackled, showing off her missing teeth. “What wedding?” she said. “This is what I wear everyday to do my household chores.” 

Her name was Jada Bai and she belonged to the Bhil community, a fiercely independent tribe spread across Western India. “I’ve been wearing these ornaments since the day I got married,” she told me. “They are now a part of me.” Her mother-in-law had given them to her. She pointed to her shy young daughter-in-law standing nearby and said, “Soon I’ll pass it on to her.” The tribe, she said, has strenuously preserved their old ways to safeguard their tradition. Till date, Bhil youths mostly marry within their community, which also ensures that the family silver stays intact. 

“We as a community don’t like putting whatever little money we have in banks, so we wear whatever we possess,” she laughed when I asked her whether wearing so much jewellery everyday was uncomfortable. “One gets used to it — I’d feel quite naked without it all.” Bhil families displayed their social status and wealth this way, she told me. Even their men wore earrings, pendants and bracelets. 

In the past, and even to some extent today, silver jewellery used to be an accurate indicator of a family’s creditworthiness. “Since we as a community rarely own land or other assets, families would use silver as collateral when taking loans from moneylenders,” she said. Perhaps that was why they preferred designs that were simply hammered out of pure silver. “Embellishments often reduce the purity of the metal,” she said showing me her anklets that were solid silver bands. “Our designs are such that they can be sold for the price of pure silver.” 

Jada Bai kindly allowed me to inspect all her jewellery, assuring me that I couldn’t afford to buy most of it. “Do you know, these anklets are one and half kilograms of pure silver each,” she asked. They had been twisted round her ankle with pliers and couldn’t be taken off.  “They say that women’s gaits develop a seductive sway when they wear these anklets, but that’s only because they are so heavy,” she said recalling how hard it was to initially get used to carrying around such extra weight. “Luckily, tradition forbids us from going outside the house freely and wearing these anklets ensured we were physically unable to go very far,” she said cackling mirthlessly. “We don’t call them bedis, shackles, for nothing!” 

And just like that, my lust for the Bhil anklets that I couldn’t afford anyway, evaporated. I did buy a short chain though, just to remind myself that a taste for jewellery comes with many hidden strings attached.