The domestic yak is believed to have originated from its wild ancestor, the wild yak, as early as two million years ago on the Tibetan plateau. The word yak comes from the Tibetan word gyag, which refers to the male yak. Yak-rearing regions in India include Ladakh, Sikkim, Arunachal Pradesh and Himachal Pradesh, with a few numbers reported in West Bengal. Yaks in India are mostly reared traditionally under the transhumance system by the nomadic tribes who are mostly Buddhists in their religious orientation. Like in Ladakh, where it is reared by the Changpa, a semi-nomadic tribe, in Sikkim, it is reared by the Aho, Bho and Bhutia tribes, who are predominantly Buddhists. In Himachal Pradesh, the Buddhist tribes in Spiti are engaged in yak rearing, whereas in Kinnaur and Chamba districts, Hindus too are involved in rearing this bovine. Monpa, a Mongoloid Buddhist tribe, are involved in rearing Yak in Arunachal Pradesh. They have close relations with animals, like other tribes, but have a special bond with the yaks. As per the 20th Livestock Census 2019, Ladakh has the highest yak population (26,221), followed by Arunachal Pradesh (24,075), Sikkim (5,219), Himachal Pradesh (1,940) and West Bengal (61). Internationally, apart from India, yaks are found in China, Tibet, Bhutan, Mongolia and Nepal.

In this chapter, we examine the relations of yaks with the people who rear them, that is, the Brokpa, to understand the role this bovine plays in the lives of the herders of this tribe – socially, economically and culturally. The word brokpa combines two Monpa words, brok meaning pastoral land and pa meaning people living on the pasture.

Growing urbanisation in India has resulted in people getting inevitably exposed to new and different cultural experiences. Eventually, it makes people, who until then regarded themselves as natives of a place, loosen their grip on their local cultural identity and embrace a global civic identity. It has become routine for Tamil youth from the hinterland to migrate to the urban centre of Chennai, seemingly aspiring to participate not only in its growth story but also in embracing the lifestyle changes that come with it. Kwame Anthony Appiah has illustrated how in urban environments people encounter commercial artefacts and establishments that bring other cultures into close proximity to their own. Such a shift happens mainly through a rapid process of urbanisation that includes migration, lifestyle changes and advancement in communication technologies. A cosmopolitan, according to Appiah, is someone who has learnt to live with their roots in a wider world, with mutual respect for other traditions. He suggested a co-existence of modernist values with respect for tradition among people in a globalized world. Moving forward, the intermingling of diverse cultures is also about the differences that emerge among them. As a result, natives often emphasise the uniqueness of their own culture against universalist values. This process is identified as ‘tribalism’ in anthropological terms or ‘localisation’ in sociological terms. Further, the pursuit of universalist values in a modern world has come to imply moving from the anthropocentric, that is, where human lives are deemed more important, to an ecocentric worldview, where all lives are deemed equal.

Introduction

Estimates reveal that South Asia has the world's largest nomadic population. India has roughly 10 per cent of the population classified under Nomadic and De-notified Tribes, comprising 150 De-notified Tribes and 500 Nomadic Tribes. While the De-notified Tribes have gradually become sedentary in various states of India, the Nomadic communities remain largely mobile in following their needs. Of the nomadic tribes, the Dhangar are a semi-nomadic (nomads with fixed habitations to which they return after completion of the annual cycle of migration) pastoral community in Maharashtra. One of the defining features of semi-nomads is the presence of animals, mainly livestock, in their midst. The Dhangar begin migrating after the monsoon harvest and return to their respective villages just before the onset of rains. For eight to nine months, when they are out of their settlements, moving with their animals in search of pasture, their houses either remain locked or the men leave behind women, children and the elderly to look after their homes, but also to sow winter crops, if any.

The report released by the non-profit League for Pastoral Peoples and Endogenous Livestock Development (LPP) on 30 September 2020 stated: ‘There is no official data on the number of pastoralists in India; although a figure of 35 million is often quoted, but without a source.

Ponnivalavan's bellowing voice belies his modest stature as it reverberates throughout the vehicle he guides across Thiruvallur's rugged countryside. Educated till the eighth standard, Ponni is the gregarious personal assistant to VCK General Secretary D. Ravikumar during his 2014 parliamentary bid. While the candidate campaigns in an open-air jeep flanked by DMK district leaders and a bevy of coalition allies, Ponni tails them as closely as possible. He juggles three cell phones throughout the day while frequently running between vehicles at intermittent stops to ferry water, information, and campaign supplies to the party brass. Initially cheerful, Ponni becomes increasingly riled as the campaign progresses. Despite being Ravikumar's personal assistant, his car is frequently pressed to the tail end of the convoy. He chastises the cavalier demeanor of DMK bigwigs, whose new polished Toyota SUVs blaze past the candidate's aged Mahindra Scorpio, mimicking their penchant for waxing poetic about Ravikumar. One day, Ponni turns to me with a smug grin and states: “Michael, you should ask them: You are always introducing Ravikumar as the ‘DMK coalition candidate’ and declaring publicly: ‘He is [DMK Chairman] Kalaignar's candidate! He is [DMK Treasurer] Stalin's candidate!’ If he really is your candidate, why have you only given [figure redacted] rupees? You should give more [money]!” Visibly entertained by this proposition, Ponni cackles aloud and repeats the joke for emphasis.

When the campaign vehicle's PA system dies just before noon, the convoy stops at a nearby hotel for an early lunch, allowing time for technicians to acquire parts and resolve the glitch. While party workers eat rice meals in the attached restaurant, Ponni leads me to an air-conditioned room where DMK district leaders, eager to make up for lost time, discuss changes to the day's itinerary. Once the logistics were settled, they turned to me to inquire about my impressions of the campaign and underscore the generosity of their party executive for giving two seats to a “small, Dalit party.” Abruptly, an elbow begins to needle my ribs and Ponni mutters under his breath: “Ask them, Michael!” When I fail to act on his cue, Ponni broaches the subject himself.

For a Sunday morning drive sometime in May 2023, the busy Outer Ring Road in Bengaluru seemed much more congested than usual. Vehicles were coming from everywhere and spilling into and out of this main road, and what was surreal was that this congestion was without the usual levels of nudging, shoving, shouting, and scraping on the road. For one, the road was crawling with traffic police, being, I should add, ably assisted by burly Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) party workers. For another, it was one among Narendra Modi's several visits to the state as part of his campaigning for the assembly elections, and so it looked like everyone knew the reason behind the congestion and everyone seemed resigned to it, happily or otherwise. Modi was going to go through one of the perpendicular roads as part of his Bengaluru road show.

And as is typical of most Bengaluru drivers, I also took the chance of exiting the main road, into the narrow alleyways, hoping that I could get to another road that I presumed would be out of the vicinity of the road show. At the end of this alleyway maze, I suddenly found myself in the middle of a much wider road, again overflowing with cops and BJP party workers. With no traffic around, strangely, they casually gave me a glance as if my car was intruding upon something. Clearly it looked like I was.

I found myself on the road that Modi's procession had just crossed barely a few minutes ago, and those public officials were possibly breathing a sigh of relief when my car came in as an unwelcome pull back to reality. It was very quiet, with absolutely no traffic on the road.

In the early evening of April 14, 1990, the Dalit Panthers convened a public ceremony in K. Pudur, a large Dalit colony in northeast Madurai, to unveil their new movement flag. Photographs of the event depict activists seated on metal folding chairs behind a wooden table. A portrait of Ambedkar adorns the thatched hut behind them. Beneath the portrait, a hand-drawn banner reads: “Liberation is attained through war. New horizons are borne through blood.” As was typical of DPI events, this was a family affair. Children milled about the speakers’ table as activists explained the design features of their flag. Its background, composed of broad red and blue stripes, symbolized their commitment to revolutionary politics and Ambedkarite principles, while the five-pointed star at its center signified their primary objectives, namely to annihilate caste, dismantle the class structure, attain women's rights, foster Tamil nationalism, and vehemently resist imperialism. To achieve these goals, they pledged to upend “the parliamentary democratic system,” which they insisted had hitherto failed to emancipate Dalits and, instead, reduced their community to “listless puppets that raise their hands and nod their heads” at the time of elections. DPI leaders reaffirmed their commitment to boycott elections and pledged to follow an extra-electoral path to promote Dalit development and realize their democratic rights. As exemplified by the snarling cat at the center of the white star, they vowed to pursue these objectives with “the fury of a panther.”

From the early 1990s, DPI leaders embraced bellicose rhetoric and cultivated a militant public disposition. They saw a revolutionary potential in Dalit politics and sought to transform Dalit into a radical political subjectivity.