A member of the Banjara tribe (a nomadic group that traditionally worked as traders of goods and cattle), Paras grew up with the gnawing sense of an ‘us’ and ‘them’ divide. He saw the struggles faced by his people — discrimination, marginalisation, lack of access to basic rights, and most significantly, a lack of identity in a society.
His family, like many others from the Banjara community, lived a life on the move, travelling and trading goods. His parents lived a nomadic existence, while Paras’s eight older siblings never even attended school due to the family’s constant travel.
“My father and grandfather would sell salt, that used to be our trade. They also used to sell cattle to farmers who needed them for agriculture. At cattle fairs organised by the Government, they would buy and take the cattle to different parts of the state, mainly to the southern regions. There, tribal farmers rely on cattle for farming instead of using machinery,” Paras tells The Better India. “But then transportation methods improved and small markets began setting up, this line of business became obsolete,” he says.
His family then had to look for other ways of earning. With few options available, they shifted to labour work and formed a small community of labourers where everyone would work together. It was during this time they decided that they needed to settle.
Paras was 12 years old. Soon he would be introduced to a school, an experience he found to be vastly different from the open, unbound life he had known. “Some kids in the village that we had settled outside of, would go to school, and I’d accompany them. There were a few teachers who were really dedicated; if they saw a child in the village who wasn’t attending school, they would come to their home and take us with them,” he recalls. “I really did not like it, it was a big cultural shock for me,” he adds. “My mother used to wait outside all day, just to make sure that I was at ease, and I could concentrate.”
However, for a young boy who had hardly interacted with people outside of his community, Paras had to constantly fight a feeling of loneliness and isolation. “I would go to school, but because I couldn’t speak to anyone as I didn’t know the language, and because the children also refused to speak to me because of my background, it was overwhelming. I ended up skipping school for many days out of fear,” he says.
From poverty to purpose
By the time Paras graduated high school, his early experiences had shaped his understanding of social inequality and injustice. Whether it was watching his parents struggle to make ends meet due to a lack of financial resources, being unable to appeal to the authorities about their issues, or being at the epicenter of the problems his community faced as a whole, education became a crucial tool for change.
“I’ve seen lack, I’ve seen poverty. My parents spent whatever they could to help me finish my education. When you grow up like this, by the time you finish studying, your one and only goal is to get a job that gives you security and a place in society,” Paras admits. But right after school, he found out about Mazdoor Kisan Shakti Sangathan (MKSS), a prominent organisation that demands the right to information and fair wages for workers, and while the need for a well- positioned job was ever present, Paras decided to commit to what he believed in, no matter the hardships that might follow.
In this organisation, he earned a meagre Rs 2,190 per month, the same as everyone else. Given the needs of the time, his family was skeptical about how this would work out practically.
“It was quite difficult to convince my family, especially after spending so much money on my education, that I was settling for just that much a month. But I was adamant. I had made up my mind that I couldn’t just work for myself, I had to do more than that. And I never regretted that decision because that organisation was God-sent for me. There, I learnt what equality meant,” he says.
Establishing identity
“The issue of identity is one of the most pressing concerns for our people,” Paras shares, noting that many nomadic communities lack basic identity documents like ration cards, voter IDs, and birth certificates. Without these documents, they are excluded from government schemes, unable to access education, and often denied their rightful place in society.
“We are not very visible in mainstream social discourse. And because of the physical distance between the tribes and settled communities, there is a social and cultural distance, too,” he says. Added to the social stigma is political ignorance. “Due to our relatively small and scattered populations, political parties also overlook nomadic communities in their campaigns,” he adds.
After working with MKSS for years and studying social work, Paras learnt how to identify pressing issues and mobilise people to voice their concerns. He focused on creating small, tight-knit communities within larger communities, where those who could, would support others and work together to address challenges.
One of the most common concerns that emerged was how to secure these documents for nomadic people.
“We struggled a lot in the beginning with how to make these issues visible, understandable, and addressable to all stakeholders,” Paras shares. Something as simple as getting a caste certificate proved to be a difficult and confusing process for many, including the lower-level government officials in offices.
While in some places, the lower bureaucracy was a bit more proactive and willing to help, others found themselves stuck in the process due to a lack of understanding of the social structure and caste system within the nomadic communities, Paras points out. “Helping people navigate these bureaucratic hurdles — whether it’s obtaining a caste certificate, meeting with the tehsildar or collector, or working with the principal secretary — helped clear the obstacles that hold them back from accessing crucial opportunities and resources.”
“Most of us have never been to school, but we want our children to. If our elderly community members suddenly find their pensions have been cut off, we are there to help. So, we want change and the people on ground are working towards that goal,” Bihari Lal Banjara (48) of Bhilwara, Gangapur, who works closely with Paras shares, explaining how a lack of documentation could deny their children the basic right of education.
In 2018, Paras established ‘Olakhaan Trust’ where they work with around 20 villages. Through his work in the field, they have developed a network of people who encourage the nomadic communities to be proactive and help with documentation.
“We have volunteers and workers who assist people while going to offices and helping them through the whole process of documentation. We are essentially a community organisation,” Paras explains.
“When I was working with other organisations, I realised they tackled a wide range of issues. However, I wanted to fully focus on one cause. There aren’t any organisations that specifically work for nomads, and since identity is a crucial part of what I do, it made sense to carve out a distinct identity for this issue, separate from other concerns. I wanted to focus exclusively on this, working in smaller areas and regions to create a more targeted impact,” he shares.
Rajmal Bhil, a 32-year-old fellow at Olakhaan Trust, has assisted over 200 individuals in obtaining their caste certificates. “I often give people rides to the panchayat office and fill their forms. We even managed to convince the local cyber shop owner to stay open during the night, so the community could get their documents ready without losing the day’s wages,” he shares.
By arranging camps and with the support of their community members, Olakhaan has been able to help about 400 individuals from these communities procure caste certificates, and other government IDs.
The Patta Abhiyan
Nomadic tribes make up about 8% of the state’s population, yet one of the core challenges faced by the communities is the absence of land ownership. Historically, nomads have lived in temporary settlements, often without any legal claim to the land they occupy. This has left them vulnerable to eviction by both government authorities and local villagers, who often carry some prejudice against them.
Before the establishment of the Olakhaan Trust, Paras along with MKSS had helped launch the ‘Patta Abhiyan’, a campaign aimed at securing land rights for nomadic families as well. However, implementing this initiative has not been without its hurdles. Local panchayat authorities often resist granting land to nomads due to societal biases, and land allocation has been slow.
In 2012, during the Jaipur Jan Sunwai (Public Hearing), the Chief Secretary listened to the grievances of the nomadic communities. It was decided that these communities, who had been left without jobs or home security, would be classified under the Below Poverty Line (BPL) category. It was also announced that they would receive ‘patta’ for the lands they had been living on.
This official document would serve as proof of land ownership, allowing them to finally have a place they could truly call home. The size of the patta would vary: 450 square feet for those living within or near a city, and 2,700 square feet for those in rural villages. While many promises were made during this time, the implementation was uneven. Some promises were fulfilled, while others were only half-heartedly executed.
The mindset of people in the Panchayat offices was a significant obstacle, as many were reluctant to grant land to nomadic tribes due to prevailing stigma and stereotypes. Additionally, the low literacy rate meant having to help each member understand the process and even take them through it.
“We would start by talking to people, asking if they needed help with their documentation. For those who did, we guided them through the process — telling them which office to visit, who to speak to, and how to write applications. If someone didn’t know how to write them, we would arrange for someone else to help with that,” Paras shares.
In Bhilwara district alone, because of the persistent efforts made by Paras and his team, about 1,000 pattas were successfully allotted, although many across the state still remain without land.
“It was difficult to get ration without an address proof. We lived on the outskirts of the village, and when a road was built in front of our settlement, our land became more valuable, and people started trying to push us out. But thankfully, with the help of Paras and Rajmal, we were able to stay and secure the documents for our 450 square feet of land,” says Pappu Nath (40) is one of the recipients who recently received his land documents.
Over the years, Paras has also focused on engaging directly with political leadership to bring attention to the issues of nomadic communities. He worked with both major political parties, urging them to include these issues in their electoral manifestos. To ensure a thorough understanding, Paras and his team also prepared their own charters and collaborated with the Suchna Evum Rozgar Adhikar Abhiyan (SR. Abhiyan) to draft a manifesto specifically for nomads. “Why should we vote for you if you don’t even recognize our struggles?” Paras emphasises. To hold politicians accountable, they organise Jan Manch events, where they question leaders on their commitment to addressing nomadic issues.
“Our community has a rightful claim to at least 450 square feet of land, and we believe that by actively engaging all touchpoints of the socio-political spectrum, we can bring out real change,” Paras says.
Edited by Arunava Banerjee; Images: Paras Banjara
