Widow remarriage is permitted among all the divisions of the Porojas, and a younger brother usually marries his elder brother’s widow.
The Jhodia, Pengu, and Kondhi divisions worship Bhūmi Dēvata (the earth goddess), who is also known as Jākar Dēvata, once in three years. Each village offers a cow, goat, pig, and pigeon to her as a sacrifice. She is represented by a stone under a tree outside the village. A casteman acts as pūjāri (priest), and all the villagers, including the Janni and Mūdili, are present at the festival, which winds up with a feast and drink. The Bondas worship Tākurāni in the months of Chaitra and Māgho, and the festival includes the sacrifice of animals. “Their religious ceremonies,” Mr. May writes, “consist in offerings to some nameless deity, or to the memory of deceased relations. At each of the principal villages, the Bhondas congregate once a year in some spot conveniently situated for their orgies, when a chicken, a few eggs, and a pig or goat are offered, after which they retire to their houses, and next day assemble again, when the salop juice is freely imbibed till the intoxicating effects have thoroughly roused their pugnacity. The process of cudgelling one another with the branches of the salop now begins, and they apply them indiscriminately without the smallest regard for each other’s feelings. This, with the attendant drums and shrieks, would give one the impression of a host of maniacs suddenly set at liberty. This amusement is continued till bruises, contusions, and bleeding heads and backs have reduced them to a comparatively sober state, and, I imagine, old scores are paid off, when they return to their several houses.”
The dead are, as a rule, burnt. By some of the Jhodia Porojas, the ashes are subsequently buried in a pit a few feet deep, near the burning-ground, and the grave is marked by a heap of stones. A pole is set up in this heap, and water poured on it for twelve days. On the fourth day, cooked rice and fish are set on the way leading to the spot where the corpse was burned. The celebrants of the death rite then take mango bark, paint it with cow-dung, and sprinkle themselves with it. The ceremony concludes with a bath, feast, and drink. Among the Bonda Porojas, some of the jewelry of the deceased person is burnt with the corpse, and the remainder given to the daughter or daughter-in-law. They observe pollution for three days, during which they do not enter their fields. On the fourth day, they anoint themselves with castor-oil and turmeric, and bathe.
Mr. G. F. Paddison informs me that he once gave medicine to the Porojas during an epidemic of cholera in a village. They all took it eagerly, but, as he was going away, asked whether it would not be quicker cure to put the witch in the next village, who had brought on the cholera, into jail.
A Bonda Poroja dance is said to be very humourous. The young men tie a string of bells round their legs, and do the active part of the dance. The women stand in a cluster, with faces to the middle, clap their hands, and scream at intervals, while the men hop and stamp, and whirl round them on their own axes. The following account of a dance by the Jhōdia Poroja girls of the Koraput and Nandapuram country is given by Mr. W. Francis.[111] “Picturesque in the extreme,” he writes, “is a dancing party of these cheery maidens, dressed all exactly alike in clean white cloths with cerise borders or checks, reaching barely half way to the knee; great rings on their fingers; brass bells on their toes; their substantial but shapely arms and legs tattooed from wrist to shoulder, and from ankle to knee; their left forearms hidden under a score of heavy brass bangles; and their feet loaded with chased brass anklets weighing perhaps a dozen pounds. The orchestra, which consists solely of drums of assorted shapes and sizes, dashes into an overture, and the girls quickly group themselves into a couple of corps de ballet, each under the leadership of a première danseuse, who marks the time with a long baton of peacock’s feathers. Suddenly, the drums drop to a muffled beat, and each group strings out into a long line, headed by the leader with the feathers, each maiden passing her right hand behind the next girl’s back, and grasping the left elbow of the next but one. Thus linked, and in time with the drums (which now break into allegro crescendo), the long chain of girls—dancing in perfect step, following the leader with her swaying baton, marking the time by clinking their anklets (right, left, right, clink; left, clink; right, left, right, clink; and so da capo), chanting the while (quite tunefully) in unison a refrain in a minor key ending on a sustained falling note—weave themselves into sinuous lines, curves, spirals, figures-of-eight, and back into lines again; wind in and out like some brightly-coloured snake; never halting for a moment, now backwards, now forwards, first slowly and decorously, then, as the drums quicken, faster and faster, with more and more abandon, and longer and longer steps, until suddenly some one gets out of step, and the chain snaps amid peals of breathless laughter.”
For the following supplementary note on the Bonda Porojas, I am indebted to Mr. C. A. Henderson.
These people live in the western portion of Malkanagiri tāluk, along the edge of the hills, probably penetrating some distance into them. The elder men are not in any way distinguishable from their neighbours. Young unmarried men, however, tie a strip of palmyra leaf round their heads in the same way as the women of their own tribe, or of the Gadabas. The women are very distinctly dressed. They all shave their heads once a month or so, and fasten a little fillet, made of beads or plaited grass, round them. The neck and chest are covered with a mass of ornaments, by which the breasts are almost concealed. These consist, for the most part, of bead necklaces, but they have also one or more very heavy brass necklaces of various designs, some being merely collections of rings on a connecting circlet, some massive hinged devices tied together at the end with string. They wear also small ear-studs of lead. Apart from these ornaments, they are naked to the waist. Round the loins, a small thick cloth is worn. This is woven from the fibre of the ringa (Oriya sītkodai gotsho). This cloth measures about two feet by eight inches, and is of thick texture like gunny, and variously coloured. Owing to its exiguity, its wearers are compelled, for decency’s sake, to sit on their heels with their knees together, instead of squatting in the ordinary native posture. This little cloth is supported round the waist by a thread, or light chain of tin and beads, but not totally confined thereby. The upper edge of the cloth behind is free from the chain, and bulges out, exposing the upper portion of the buttocks, the thread or chain lying in the small of the back. It is noted by Mr. Sandell that “the cloth at present used is of comparatively recent introduction, and seems to be a slight infringement of the tabu. The original cloth and supporting string were undoubtedly made of jungle fibre, and the modern colouring is brought about with cotton thread. Similarly, the Bonda Poroja necklaces of cheap beads, blue and white, must be modern, and most obviously so the fragments of tin that they work into their chains. The women are said to wear cloths in their houses, but to leave them off when they go outside. It seems that the tabu is directed against appearing in public fully clothed, and not against wearing decent sized cloths, as such. The party I saw were mostly unmarried girls, but one of them had been married for a year. When not posing for the camera, or dancing, she tied a small piece of cloth round her neck, so as to hang over the shoulders. This, as far as I could make out, was not because she was married, but simply because she was more shy than the rest.
“Two houses are kept in the village, for the unmarried girls and young men respectively. Apparently marriages are matters of inclination, the parents having no say in the matter. The young couple having contracted friendship (by word of mouth, and not by deed, as it was explained to me), inform their parents of it. The young man goes to make his demand of the girl’s parents, apparently without at the time making any presents to them, contrary to the custom of the Kondhs and others. Then there seem to be a series of promises on the part of the parents to give the girl. But the witnesses were rather confused on the point. I gather that the sort of final betrothal takes place in Dyali (the month after Dusserah), and the marriage in Magha. At the time of marriage, the girl’s parents are presented with a pair of bulls, a cloth, and a pot of landa (sago-palm toddy). But no return is made for them. The father gives the girl some ornaments. The married woman, whom I saw, had been given a bracelet by her husband, but it was not a conspicuously valuable one, and in no way indicative of her status.” In connection with marriage, Mr. Sandell adds that “a youth of one village does not marry a maiden of the same village, as they are regarded as brother and sister. The marriage pit is still in use, and may last all through the cold weather. A number of small villages will club together, and have one big pit.” In the case observed by Mr. Sandell, three of the local maidens were shut up in the pit at night, and five stranger youths admitted. The pit may be twelve feet across, and is covered with tatties (mats) and earth, a trap-door being left.
“After childbirth, the mother is unclean for some days. The time is, I gather, reckoned by the dropping of the navel-string, and is given as eight to sixteen days. During that period, the woman is not allowed to cook, or even touch her meals.
“These people say that they have no pūja (worship). But at the time of sowing seed, they sacrifice one egg (for the whole village) to Matēra Hundi, the goddess of harvest, who is represented by a branch of the kusi or jāmo (guava) tree planted in the village. The people have no pūjāris, and, in this case, the priest was a Mattia by caste. He plants the branch, and performs the sacrifice. At the time of Nua Khāu (new eating; first fruits) a sacrifice of an animal of some kind is also made to Matēra Hundi. Her aid is, they say, sought against the perils of the jungle, but primarily she is wanted to give them a good crop. The Bonda Porojas are quite ready to tell the old story of Sīta (whom they call Mahā Lakshmi), and her curse upon their women, whereby they shave their heads, and may not wear cloths. It is stated by Mr. May that a Government Agent once insisted on a young woman being properly clothed, and she survived the change only three days. I understand that this case has been somewhat misrepresented. The cloth is believed not to have been forced upon the girl, but offered to, and greatly appreciated by her. Her death shortly afterwards was apparently not the result of violation of the tabu, but accidental, and due, it is believed, to small-pox. The people whom I saw had not heard of this episode, but said that a woman who wore a cloth out of doors would fall sick, not die. But the possibility of any woman of theirs wearing a cloth obviously seemed to them very remote. The Bonda Porojas have a sort of belief in ghosts—not altogether devils apparently, but the spirits of the departed (sayirē). These may appear in dreams, influence life and health, and vaguely exercise a helpful influence over the crops. I did not find out if they were propitiated in any way.