When is any path in life ever straight?

Ringal: the last generation to know its craft.

The craft of Ringal weaving has been a part of Namik village’s ancestral legacy for centuries. This is the story of  Dev Ram’s reunion with Ringal years after he first learned this craft at the age of 13. The baskets, mats, and other items made from Ringal embody the village’s cultural heritage and tell a story of dedication and craftsmanship. Although this craft generates low income, it has helped preserve the traditional identity of the village while easily providing essential items for rural life within the village itself.

Read this story in Hindi

Just a few days ago my father was cutting Ringal and he entrusted me with the task of handling the cut pieces. I had no interest whatsoever to join in, but without arguing, I got to work. 

Seeing me work in such a lackluster way, my father said, “Oh son, so much laziness at such a young age! I was thirteen years old when I started doing this work, and back then, I found joy in it.”

Smiling, I replied, “Father, that was your time back then.”

It was a sunny morning in 1972, when my thirteen-year-old father, Dev Ram first made his first encounter with Ringal,the Himalayan bamboo. He had set out towards the Thala bugyal (alpine meadow) located at the height of about 3000 meters above his village Namik, with his herd of cows and buffaloes. His large black Bhotiya dog ran ahead, clearing the path, the uphill climb barely affecting his speed. Roaming in such high-altitude mountain regions was nothing less than an adventure for Dev Ram, even though he took the same route every day. With his lean frame and agile gait and a bright smile across his face, he strode up the mountainside. 

Dev Ram was then an anwal (shepherd) in Namik village, situated across the eastern Ramganga valley, in the Pithoragarh district of Uttarakhand. Namik that is located in Munsiari Block remains largely untouched by modernity; there is no phone network, no motorable road and no hospital in the village. Yet, its natural beauty is unparalleled, with bakhalies (traditional houses made in the vernacular architectural style by this name) studded amidst lush green terraced fields and alpine meadows (bugyals) covered with velvety grass. Towards the north-west, the village overlooks the snow-capped peaks and the glaciers of the Namik, Hiramani, Pyanthang and the Kalagudi, that gleam brightly under the sun. To the east of the village lies the Namik Van Panchayat, sprawling over 186 hectares, stretching farther than the eye can see. To the west is the Nandakot mountain, with its snow covered peak resting within the clouds, as if conversing with the sky.  

When Dev Ram would reach the bugyal (alpine meadows), the cold, fresh air would gently caress his hair, and with every breath, he would lose himself in the vastness of it all. However, the most exciting moment came when some villagers would come to the forest to cut Ringal. He would watch them very closely, trying to understand their every move— how they held the darati (a metal tool used for cutting wood, grass, and Ringal) and how they swung it. He would scrunch his eyes and without blinking and follow the movement of their hands. He would follow those villagers for hours as if wanting to understand every secret hidden in what seemed like a simple craft. For him, it was a priceless opportunity to learn, which he took on with complete dedication.

A Chance Encounter 

Ringal is a kind of bamboo species found in the forests of Uttarakhand. It is known as the Himalayan Montane Bamboo, and its scientific name is Chimonobamusa falcatum. Ringal is somewhat smaller in size than bamboo. While bamboo grows to a height of 25-30 meters, Ringal grows to a height of 5-8 meters. For this reason, Ringal is also known as “Dwarf Bamboo.” There are around 5 subspecies of Ringal that are found at altitudes ranging between 300 to 2,000meters above sea level and are mostly found in moist gullies and mountain slopes. Bamboo, on the other hand, is found in lower-altitude areas. Ringal is effective in preventing landslides because its roots are strong and help stabilize land. In Namik, it falls under our protected 186 hectare Van Panchayat which was established in 1974 and covers almost the entire Ramganga Valley.

Ringal trade is an age-old tradition in Namik, an occupation that has been rooted in the community for approximately 200-300 years, spanning 6-7 generations. Ringal is used to make daliya (big baskets for storing goods and food), moshta (floor mats), supa (winnowing basket) for cleaning grains like lentils and rice, making brooms, and dokkas (a type of basket carried on the back for carrying grass and dung). Such items have always held an important place in the daily lives of villagers. Even today, its traditional uses remain the same, but with modernity, its demand for its ornamental value has grown. People use various Ringal products for decorating their homes and have them crafted in innovative designs.

Now 65 years old, Dev Ram, my father, carries nearly four decades of dedication to the craft of Ringal workmanship. Since my childhood, I have watched him at work as his dexterous hands weave the intricate bamboo strands with a calm concentration as he hums a soft familiar tune. My father is not just an artisan; he is a master of his craft who brings precision and beauty to every piece he creates. This trade was not part of our ancestral heritage. He did not inherit it through family tradition as our traditional craft was blacksmithy. Instead he took to it as a boy, captivated by the sight of others weaving. Watching and observing, he taught himself and turned curiosity into a mastery that now defines his identity – that of a skilled Ringal craftsman. 

It often strikes me that I don’t even know how to hold a darati. No matter how much I try to cut anything, I can’t even swing it properly, and it is a fact that I’ve never shown any interest in this work. But as soon as I saw the sparkle in my father’s eyes from those old days, a deep curiosity awakened in my mind and I began to talk to him about his craft.

Is the Path of life ever straight? 

He paused for a moment and took a deep breath, reminiscing the past. Then, slowly, he began to turn the pages of his life’s story before me.

“Son, life began to test my strength quite early. I hadn’t even been born when my father passed away. I never got to see his face. When I was twelve, my mother also left me. As long as she was alive, my life was colourful; I enjoyed school and I had a carefree childhood,” he said with a heaviness in his voice, his eyes lost in a distant past.

My father had 5 elders brothers and including their wives and children, they were a family of 17. They also owned 16 cows and 7 buffaloes. Since my father was the youngest, he was always called on for any household chores. With no parents around, it was as if all sorts of responsibilities had suddenly fallen on his shoulders. Every monsoon, his brothers would send him to Thala bugyal with their cows and buffaloes for about 6 months. 

“Son, life will always open up a new path when you feel lost, for this is how I first encountered Ringal craftsmen,” he said with a knowing smile. 

His older brothers worked as blacksmiths, but my father could not learn this ancestral craft. He spent most of his time in the bugyals with their herd of cows and buffaloes. And just like that, his childhood slipped away with animals and Ringal. When he was around fourteen or fifteen years old, his brothers arranged his marriage. At that time, child marriage was common, and that is how he ended up taking on the responsibilities of a household at such a young age. 

He paused once again and looked towards the sky, as if searching for an account of his past years.

Gradually, his brothers began to look after their own families and properties, and their joint family fell apart. He now had to handle his own land and his own family. The Ringal work that had once been a central part of his life was now left behind. He began to think of ways he could earn a living for his family, because the products he made from Ringal were mostly for personal use and did not bring in an earning. Also his skill in making baskets, supas, and dokkas had not yet developed sufficiently.

Over the next few years, he managed to build a herd 10 sheep and goats and started the work of shepherd. Roaming the mountain slopes around his village, taking care and grazing his herd every day, that became his routine. In the next few years, the number of his sheep and goats grew from 10 to 80. He dedicated those eight to nine years to shepherding. He did what he had to do, but the thought of Ringal and its craft did not leave his mind. 

“But when is any the path in life ever straight?” my father asked.

One day, a new challenge knocked on his door. TB, the most dreaded disease of that time, which had spread terror throughout the region, reached his home. 

“Remember how COVID-19 had spread a few years ago, TB had spread just like that at that time,” he said gravely. 

In the 1980s, my mother fell victim to this disease. Her condition was deteriorating rapidly and getting treatment was absolutely necessary. But the problem was that my father had no money. He had his herd, but he had no money at all.

At that time there was no one in the village to borrow money from, nor was there any other way to arrange for funds. In such a situation he made a heavy-hearted decision – to sell his hard-earned property – the herd of 80 sheep and goat he had reared with love, time and effort. Some people from the Dhanpur area of Bageshwar district bought the herd. 

“The price? Only 6000 rupees,” he exclaimed!

 As soon as he got the money, he admitted my mother to the Pithoragarh District Hospital. She received treatment and soon recovered. But in this process, all his hard work, that source of income, which he had been using to support his family, was all gone.

“This was the worst time of my life,” he said harshly, as if engulfed by a storm of memories.

At that time there seemed to be no other source of income. Then he thought, maybe life was pulling him back to Ringal. That same craft, which he had learned while playing in his youth. That is how Ringal once again entered his life, only this time, it was to stay. 

“It felt as though I was embracing an old friend,” he said, suddenly breaking into a smile. 

The craft of Ringal weaving

Watching my father talk about Ringal, I realised that each Ringal stick holds a story within it. Whenever he starts weaving a basket or a mat, I keep watching the movements of his fingers. In every movement the effort and craftsmanship of generations are visible. He is not just making things, but preserving a heritage. As a tokri (basket) takes shape or as soon as a supa is ready, it becomes a priceless legacy for our family and the generations to come. I started thinking that I have not yet learned this craft, nor have I ever shown any interest towards it. But listening to my father’s story, I was eager to know more. Seeing my inquisitiveness, my father excitedly began explaining the process of this craft to me.

First, the Ringal has to be cut from the forest of our Van Panchayat using a darati. Immediately after, it is skilfully and precisely cut into strips called putra (the thin outer layer of the Ringal). These are then dried in the sun and prepared to make various products like moshta, baskets, supa, dokkas, and other household products. My father has done most business with supas because it is always in demand in villages. Farmers use it to separate chaff, dirt, dust and other particles from their harvest of grain. The work of decorating a supa is extremely labour-intensive and time-consuming. For this, first, the bark of the sauda tree, a species of the Uttis (Alder) tree, is burned, and the Ringal is blackened with its smoke. The Ringal is then split into two parts to make wide strips. After that, the thin peel of the Ringal, which is very important for decoration, is arranged with a long, thin piece of wood, like jewellery.

The path ahead- an opportunity or a burdensome legacy?

Gradually, the conversation started to turn towards me. 

My father said, “son, I have big hopes from you. I don’t know when you will start earning, so that I can rest. I’ve become old now.” 

Even today, with his experience, he seems to easily do the hardest of tasks. It was through his hard work that he managed to educate me up to a Master’s degree. My parents expect me to get a government job, which is why they sent me outside the village to Munsiari (our nearest town) for my education. Now my goal is to prepare for a government job. I am currently preparing for the Uttarakhand government exams. I have already appeared for 3 state-level exams. But because of increasing competition and corruption seeping into the admissions process- where continuous cases of entrance exam paper leaks have been reported- I do not see any success in sight. 

My father has always encouraged me to learn the craft he has mastered over the years. 

“Son! Learn this work too, it will be useful someday. What will you do if in the future you don’t have any skill or stable employment? I have seen the condition of the country during the lockdown. Even the salaries of those with jobs were stopped. Don’t rely on jobs. If you get one, that’s great, but what if you don’t? Then, this learned skill will be something you can fall back on!”

What my father said was true, but I could never find interest in the work of Ringal craftmanship because I have seen the hard work involved and the struggles of this business since my childhood. Whether there is a snowstorm or the monsoon floods, work needs to go on. I used to think that I would get a government job, and if I did, great, but if not, I would go to the city and work in a big company. It seemed like there was no shortage of jobs in today’s time! But when I went to Dehradun city in May this year to find a job, within two days, I realized that life in the city was not for me. 

On one hand the scorching heat and on the other, private companies squeezing us dry with 12 to 14-hour work shifts— only then did I realize how I was truly leaving behind my legacy. I couldn’t even stay in Dehradun for a week and came back home, deciding that whatever work I do, I’ll do it staying in my own home. The hardships I faced in the city made me understand that there is no shortage of resources in the mountains; what’s needed is the right kind of work, just like my father’s Ringal business.

The other reason is that we belong to the Shilpkar community (Scheduled Caste), and casteism is still a major problem in our society. Communities from one caste consider their own lineage superior and look at people from other castes as inferior. The craft and trade of the Shilpkar community is often seen as lowly work by society. However, every item made by a Shilpkar is used by people in their daily lives. Despite this, whenever we go out from the village to sell our products, we are not allowed to eat with the village families, we have to stay separately, and even drink water separately.

When people ask for our full names, they immediately assess our caste and place us in the caste hierarchy. We have to bear the brunt of their ignorance and orthodox mindsets. I have heard about my father’s bitter experiences with casteism. Reacting to our plight because of these societal evils, we, the younger generation, are slowly distancing ourselves from traditional work that is caste based and dream of doing something different to maintain our dignity in society. However, listening to my father’s story, I started thinking about how his dreams were connected to those very meadows and forests of his childhood. That day, I not only heard my father’s story, but the fresh woody fragrance of Ringal and the cool breeze of the bugyals became part of my consciousness and I finally started seeing dignity in this work. 

Inspired by my father’s story, I also want to learn my ancestral crafts— both blacksmithing and Ringal work— so that I can at least make things for my own use, if not to sell as they were the very means by which I was raised. 

It is through courage 

That one earns success 

It is not easy 

To make a name in this world