The Example of `Prehistory’

Many archaeologists are content, even proud, to call themselves prehistorians. In Europe the term creates links to the great tradition of writers such as Montelius and Childe and to all the knowledge that has been amassed of European prehistory. The term is a good description of the interests of many European archaeologists. But there are now difficulties in using the term. In a global context the term, taken for granted so long in Europe, becomes politically incorrect. For example when used in Australia the term implies that aboriginal groups had no history (see Wolf 1982). This is because `history' in the word `prehistory’ means written history. But, of course, non-western and non-literate peoples did have a vibrant history, even without written records of it. There is no such thing as a time before history unless we privilege the written over the unwritten, the western over the non-western which is clearly unacceptable. (Hodder, I. 1999. Crises in Global Archaeology. P.8. The Archaeological Process. Blackwell Publishers, London).

Friends,

There is such a wealth of tribal folklore in India that has been collected assiduously by both colonial and postcolonial ethnologists and anthropologists that this collection of myths, folkloke and fables would easily fill the largest library in the world. If these are impossible to collect and publish in one place then perhaps we may be able to data-mine some aspects of the cosmology present in such folklore and give it some representation nevertheless. One way to do this it to think that our tribal folks in their stories, fables and folklore imagined a universe that was significantly different from ours. What was the nature of this universe? I have read some of these, and since the original stories are to a great extent published and already available for reading, my attempt here is to build on that reading and create a tribal science fiction.

Ajay, 2009.

An Exploratory Story

There was once a man named Bhikhu. Bhikhu lived in a forested village and thus had plenty of space in which to roam, play his flute, graze and tend his goats, or to lie idle on the wet grass, gazing at a setting sun, followed by the rising moon, and then the stars. This he did for some twenty-five years of his life. And then one day, as he was lazing on his wet grassy-bed, gazing at a distant star, he was reminded of a story his old grandmother had told him long long ago about one of the constellations that was very visible to him right now. She had said that all good men of his tribe who have died had become stars of that constellation. That leads, Bhikhu thought, to the simple conclusion, that other groups of stars were then also ancestros and friends who had of other tribes, who had either died separately or together. She had said further that on some nights of the year, these star-men descended to the earth to ask after their respective clans welfare and brought for them gifts. However, she did add that these star men looked a little different from their tribe. And that depended on which clans they belonged to when they were alive. If their totem was the kusum flower, or the palm tree, or the tiger, or the leopard, or the lion, or the jackal, or the deer, or the mahua flower, or the jamun tree, then their bodies were altered suitably after their death and before they became stars. However, dead or alive, they remained kinsmen and attached to their respective clans and therefore posed no threat at all to the people they met on their infrequent visits.

Bhikhu's mind then turned again to looking at the stars. he suddenly saw a very bright shooting star, and what is that he wondered as he heard a heavy object thud, with a loud splash, in a nearby pond that he knew so well. on this moonlit night the water of the pond looked very inviting for a quick dip and a bath,however, Bhikhu, naturally, had other questions on his mind,as he did hear that thud and splash, such sounds as he had,never before,in twenty-five years of his living memory, he had ever heard. so he proceeded a little closer to the pond to investigate the source of that sound. the waters of the pond had a slight ripple, but no more was indicated, as to what might have fallen in it all so suddenly. then he gradually leant forward and took some of the pond-water and drank it out of impulse, perhaps a sudden thirst generated by this sudden event. gradually as his eyes focussed enough to be able to see the pond water more clearly in the bright moonlight he saw an amazing thing. he saw a number of very strange fish swimming in the pond water as it was visible to him at that point in the night. so without further thought and out of plain curiosity and without remembering anything of his grandmother's tale Bhikhu reached forward and literally took one of these fish in his hand. it came easily and without any struggle whatsoever and neither was it huffing and puffing like fish usually do if they leave water. The first curious thing Bhikhu noted was that the fish had a very fishy whiskers. Next that it lacked gills. what sort of a fish is this, thought Bhikhu. and I wonder if I can eat this one. he continued looking at it for some further spell of time. no fishy stench emanated from it, like it does from any other fish. and the fish as he soon noticed was not quite dead either. Next he looked more closely at the pond water in the bright moonlight. There were approximately three types of fish, according to colour - the pink ones, the blue ones and the red ones. A thought suddenly came to his mind that the pink ones were good fish, the blue ones, he would have to be careful with, and, the red ones, as their colour suggested, were best left far and well alone. Presently he had a pink fish in his hand and he continued to look at its visage in the moon light. it was certainly very large, as fishes go, and must weigh at least a few kilograms. aside of its whiskers it sported two feelers, like those of snails, at the very front of its head. its eyes, Bhikhu thought, were by far, the most interesting part. They were glowing a little greenish, in the dark, and seemed to look right into his and through his eyes right into his mind. And then, again, was Bhikhu reminded of his grandmother's story about clan ancestors descending from the stars. Was this fish one of them? the thought arose. If so, thought Bhikhu, what am I now supposed to do. Grandmother had died a long time ago. Could it be her, right here, looking into his eyes? How am I to deal with this ancestor? Shall I take it back to the village? All these question flooded his mind so that Bhikhu stepped back from the pond and looked to his restive goats, the satrs above, and then began a mid-night trek back to his village, with this strange fish in-hand.

it was now nearly midnight and bhikhu was greeted only by the raucous barking of the dogs of his village. Hedi,Hedi! he said to quieten the dogs, and then slowly found his way around the narrow footpaths, herded his goats into the goats enclosure in his compound, and then rattled the latch on his door to wake up his wife. his wife, also a village-woman called Dhenki, woke-up, and opened the door complaning at once of his late coming and as to what was the potential reason. Bhikhu said nothing at all and lowered his head, fish in hand, and entered the very large hut. inside the dying embers of the cooking-hearth illuminated his forty square foot hut. his wife said that his dinner was ready. he laid down his wooden staff and his hatchet, flute and some fruits and roots he had collected during the day, on a mud-shelf by the fireside and then turned to speak with Dhenki. but before that he accepted a glass of very sweet and cold water which his wife had proferred him, seeing him sweating and panting from his daylong exertions. She did not, even as Bhikhu began drinking that glass, notice what he held in his hand, owing to the fact that the dying embers of the hearth did not generate enough luminosity for the purpose.

After Bhikhu had drunk his fill, he started talking.

"It is strange what happened today."

"What indeed, did happen".

Bhikhu extendd his hand and proferred the very large pink fish he had picked up and carried from the pond to his wife.

"Why, that's just a fish. Do you want me to cut it and cook it up?"

"Oh, No! Not, at all!"

"Why, on earth?"

"Precisely", said Bhikhu, "This fish is not from the earth at all"

"I see! Then, where, kindly, can it possibly be from?"

"Well, you see. It is a long story..."

"As it usually is", said Dhenki, released a yawn, and started putting together the dinner, warming it, squatting near the hearth, lighting a kerosene lamp, and waiting for Bhikhu's latest story, to roll on. "You see dear Dhenki", continued Bhikhu, "as usual I was lying next to the ponf where we graze our goats everyday. And then sudenly there was a loud noise like something fallinf into the pond. and then when i went to the pond to investigate what it was that fell into it, i saw a number of differently coloured fish swimming in it. you know very well that our mountain fish do not grow to this size", here he pasued to let his story thus far sink in.

"So what if they usually don't. Maybe the gods are kind to us this year?"

"Gods? Kind? This Year?"

"Yes. I mean this strange looking fish could have grown to this size and colour purely from natural reasons. Remember what huge mushrooms we had for dinner a few years ago. Our mountain mushrooms, usually, do not grow to that size".

"Yes dear, I see your point. But for the life of me, I cannot help imagining that this fish is something else. Here, take it in your hand and see."

Presently, Dhenki, takes the fish in her hands and examines it by the dying embers of the hearth and beside the kerosene lamp.

"Yes, this pink colour is a little funny...and why has it got the feelers of a snail? I would, most certainly, refuse to eat anything like this, cooked or uncooked."

Patiently, Bhikhu, added, "No, dear...nobody is suggesting, at all, that you eat it...indeed it is one of our ancestors, in the sky, come back."

"You are not here referring to your Grandmother's tale???"

"Yes, indeed, I am."

"But that is what your Grandmother said, not mine."

"Yes, but that does not discredit what my Grandmother also said!"

"Fine, then..let me have your theory in a more comprehensible form."

"It is like this, Dhenki Dear. My grandmother believed very firmly that our totemic ancestors come to visit us once in awhile and bring gifts for us. however, they donot look like us. Now study this fish. It has no gills, it has feelers, it is hours since i took it out of the water and yet it is alive and breathing in someway that we donot know. also, i shall here mention, that, and using my grandmothers parameters, if this is a totemic ancestor of our, that is my tribe, then it would communicate only with me. now, when, i first held this fish in my hand a great serenity descended upon me. not a trace of any fear at all remained, which I felt, at once, as I heard a loud splash of something falling into the pond, that even you know of by now. Then I stepped closer to the pool of water, and by the even, insufficient, moonlight, I could see these luminous fish swimming in the water. They were this pink, red and blue in clour. I left the blue and red ones alone and took this pink one in my hand. At once the universe swirled in my mind. I was reminded