Barru-Kaat Bhopali: From Folklore to Forgotten Grasslands

 

Barru-Kaat Bhopali: 

From Folklore to Forgotten Grasslands

Tracing Bhopal’s identity through a humble weed

Who's Looking for a Grass?

Why keep the reader in suspense? This blogger readily pleads guilty: he's searching for Johnson's Grass, aka Sorghum halepense—Barru for older Bhopalis who may look like fossils to the generations that crawl social media day and night, hold digital confabulations, and launch nation-wide agitations.

But why search for a wild, invasive weed hated by farmers? Is he a saboteur scheming to ruin MP's agricultural prosperity? No, he simply wishes to spot a tall and robust Barru and cut it to lay irrefutable claim to the precious title—Barru-Kaat Bhopali.

Having lived in Bhopal for more than two decades, yet not able to brag of being a BKB rankles; but what could he do since the Housing Board allotted him a small plot on a bald hillock with no Barru or any other grass on it, only stubborn boulders.

Barru-Kaat Bhopali

If you've watched Sholay, the Bollywood blockbuster, you might recall Jagdeep's buffoonery as Soorma Bhopali, a timber merchant and patia-baaz—the teller of tall tales. But beyond cinema buffoonery, the phrase “Barru-Kaat Bhopali” carries layered meanings in local lore.

Three hundred years ago, when Dost Mohammed Khan, the Afghan adventurer, obtained a lease from Rani Kamlapati, the Gond ruler, and established Fatehgarh Fort (now Gandhi Medical College), the adjoining hills and vales were sprawling forests with rich grasslands skirted by a large wetland. Barru (Sorghum halepense), cousin of edible Sorghum bicolor but one of the world’s invasive wild weeds, grew abundantly in this terrain.

Barru (Sorghum halepense)

Invited by the Afghan Chief, his clan and followers settled near the Fort, clearing the Barru forests and building modest houses. Barru, a sturdy grass, also provided cheap and durable roofing.

When someone proudly declares, “I’m a Barru-Kaat Bhopali,” he’s vindicating his status as an original settler; when someone says, “Oh, he’s just a Barru-Kaat Bhopali,” it’s a slander for someone rude, rustic, poor, and unsophisticated.

The grass also made Barru-Kalam, a reed-pen—an essential instrument for intellectual pursuits before the advent of fountain pens.

When animals supplied food and mechanical power to man, the grass beeds were valuable resources. Fodder from the expansive beed from Shyamla Hills to Bairagarh fed the horses and elephants of the royal stables. The grassland from Roshanpura Naka to Arera Hills was named Naulakha Beed—not because it yielded nine lakh bundles of grass, but because it fetched substantial revenue from annual auction.

The workers and estate managers estimated the yield in local measure—phula (bundle), gadheiya (50–100 bundles), and ganji (large stack).

“Does gadheiya mean a load carried by a donkey?” I asked Mr. Rashid. He smiled, “I don’t think so.” Yet the word instantly recalls a popular Bhopali proverb, often used by braggarts:

“तालों में ताल भोपाल ताल, बाकी सब तलैया;

रानी में रानी कमलापति, बाकी सब गधैया।”

Here, gadheiya means a she-donkey; to embellish by contrast the eminence of Rani Kamlapati, the Gond Queen who ruled from Ginnorgarh Fort, now in ruins inside Ratapani Tiger Reserve.

Grasslands of Central India

But why such lengthy discussion on Barru? Ah, thereby hangs a tale!

Recently, the Saturday Club, Bhopal hosted a Talk on India’s Savannas: Forgotten Grasslands of Central India by Mr Fazal Rashid, an Ecology Restoration Practitioner. He mentioned Barru, and I got to learn a little more about this grass and the rich ecosystem of grasslands.

Which grasses are critical to human existence? He counted the major ones—wheat, paddy, maize, millets, sugarcane, bamboo, and others.

India’s grasslands are tropical savannas; designating huge tracts of the country as wasteland or degraded forest is a serious case of misclassification. These grasslands constitute ONEs (Open Natural Ecosystems), and are critical to a wide variety of plant and animal life, argued Mr Rashid.

After that Talk, during my morning walks at Eco Park, Laharpur, I’m a little more mindful about the many varieties of grasses, creepers, plants, and trees in this sprawling grassland. Google Lens helps in identifying the varieties, though sometimes it goofs up. Can’t blame it, for its responses carry a disclaimer—AI can make mistakes!

An Old Man

Every morning, the old man comes to Eco Park, walking in slow, unhurried steps, dressed in a dhoti draped in rustic dehati style, a loose long white shirt, a big light-green turban on his head, and a self-made walking stick in hand even though he walks erect and doesn’t need it. He fills the sakore - earthen bowls hung on trees for birds - every day except on rainy days.

When I first saw him cleaning the sakore of moss and filling it with water carried from home, I thanked him for his thoughtfulness.

“Do you live in Amrawat Khurd?” I asked. That village on the hilltop skirts the Park. He nodded. “What’s your name, please?” “Name doesn’t matter, does it?” he asked.

Every day, I greet this kind old man who is reluctant to share his name, and my heart is filled with gratitude.

Today, I asked, “Is there Barru grass in this area?” “No.” He’s a minimalist! “Is it found in khet?” “Sometimes.” “Do cattle eat this grass?” I pointed at a patch with mixed grasses and amorphous plants. “That, yes; but not that!” (American Mint, Google Lens identified for me).

Grass Is No Mere Weed

The search for one grass revealed a whole world of them. Grass is no mere weed beneath our feet. Grasslands sustain insects, butterflies, snails, reptiles, birds, and burrowing animals—and, ultimately, the larger food web. What looks like vacant land to us may be a living ecosystem to countless other creatures.

Perhaps the search for Barru is less about grass itself, and more about discovering Bhopal’s layered identity—where even a weed becomes folklore, a badge of belonging, and a whisper from the city’s past.

Someday, I’ll go to Van Vihar, or the swampy backwaters of Bhoj wetland to continue my search. Till then, I remain a Bhopali, but alas, not yet a BKB!

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