As Migration Empties Uttarakhand’s Villages, a Harvest Ritual Fades with the Herds

By Samiksha Bhateja and Vagmi Joshi

Almora, Uttarakhand: Fuladi village in Almora once came alive each mid-September evening with a village bonfire and the shouts of children dragging heaps of fodder, nettle and wild grass to the square. They stacked them against a pole, set them alight, and called out, “Nikal Khatarua bahar!”—“Khatarua, come out” or “Drive Khatarua away.”

The chant, said to ward off the evil eye and sickness during the seasonal turn, sent sparks into the sky as neighbours marked the change of season together.

“That was about two decades ago,” said Vimla Bhatt, 50, who once tended her family’s fields in Fuladi and now lives in Almora town. “On the day we would feed so much grass to our cows and buffaloes that they couldn’t finish it.” 

She also remembered that lightly burnt twigs were used to bless the animals. “In the villages they still do it,” she said. “After we moved out, we stopped.”

In Aso village of Bageshwar, the memories are much the same. “The whole year we waited for it,” said Kalyan Mankoti, 50, a schoolteacher in Almora district, recalling his childhood. “The smell of paddy was in the fields and we sang from house to house: ‘Bhallo ji bhallo khatarva, gaay ki jeet, khatarwe ki haar.’”

“Be generous, Khatarua; victory to the cow, defeat to Khatarua.”

Bulls were washed, new bells tied and sweets cooked at home. “The whole village celebrated like one family,” he said. “Now, families have gone away, fields are empty, and there is little cattle. Every time I see the Khatarua fire, I remember my boyhood, my friends, that happiness. It is not just a festival, it is a memory of our roots.”

Caring for cattle and community

Khatarua falls on the first day of Ashwin, around mid-September, when the monsoon recedes and the first chill reaches the hills. Cultural researcher Chandrashekhar Tiwari described it as part of a simple hill calendar: “In July, Harela brings green strength. A month later, Ghee Tyaar is about milk and nutrition. Then comes Khatarua: quilts are sunned, fodder stored, livestock readied for winter. It shows the love mountain people have for their cattle…they are like family.”

“In older houses the cattle are on the ground floor,” he added. “The warmth rises into the rooms above. That is why Khatarua is both care and belief.”

“Since Uttarakhand’s formation, people argue if it is a Kumaon or Garhwal festival,” Tiwari said. “That misses the point. It is about cattle, the environment and people taking part. If families can keep animals with dignity, the festival will remain strong.”

In most villages, one bonfire was lit in the central ground. Children gathered dry grass through the day and circled the flames at dusk, singing, “Gaay ki jeet, khatarwe ki haar, bhaag khatarua dhaar-e-dhaar.” Cucumbers were offered to the fire: some eaten there, some taken home. Ash was smeared on foreheads and cowsheds. People carried torches from the main fire to their cowsheds to drive out damp and ward off the evil eye.

But the setting around the fire has changed. “People left for work in the plains,” said Bhatt. “Young people are not interested in farming. Our community is smaller now, and with it the customs are fading.”

She remembered Khatarua being celebrated in full through the early 2000s, villagers gathering together, herds filling the fields. But, as families began to migrate and livestock numbers fell, the gatherings thinned out. “Earlier, we knew when to cut grass, which herbs to use, how the smoke and songs told us the season had turned,” she said. “Now, the celebration still happens in some places, but the meaning is going.”

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Migration and its pull

Residents link the decline of the festival to changes in land and commons. “Grazing and forest access used to be simple,” said Bhatt. “Now there is more paperwork. People say, ‘We’ll just buy fodder.’ Then keeping cattle becomes costly, so they stop.”

“Earlier every courtyard had a heap of grass,” said Mankoti. “Now many homes are locked.”  

“When youth leave, there is no one to do daily cattle work,” said Pankaj Pathak from Sanghar village, Pithoragarh, who recently shifted to the city for work. “So herds reduce.”

“And villages have also emptied out. People move because life decisions compel them to. Families want stable jobs, a house in Haldwani or a government job. For marriage, many expect the boy not to live in the hills. Youth take loans to buy land in Haldwani or Delhi,” Pathak added. 

“The lack of services also has pushed people out. Schools and hospitals exist, but services are poor. Roads are not good. Retired people buy houses in the plains and stop looking after the village. In the end, young people leave. With villagers migrating to towns and cities, the festival also became smaller,” said Tiwari. “Earlier the whole village gathered around one bonfire; now smaller groups light fires near their homes, and fewer animals are brought.”

Even so, Khatarua survives in pockets each September. “This year too, effigies were lit, cucumbers roasted, and torches carried back,” he added. “Children are still taught the chant. Small acts keep it alive.”

“When I visit the village and hear ‘Nikal Khatarua bahar!’ it feels the same for a moment,” said Bhatt. “We are together again.”

This article was originally published in 101 Reporters under Creative Common license. Read the original article.

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