Searching for a Grass
Tracing Bhopal’s identity through a humble weed
Who's Looking for a Grass?
Who's looking for a grass, and why?
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.
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.
The old man of Amrawat Khurd: Photo by the blogger.
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!
***
Postscript
Bhopal Taal & Chittorgarh
A senior colleague tells me that the original proverb was:
तालों में ताल भोपाल ताल, बाकी सब तलैया;
गढ़ों में गढ़ चित्तौड़गढ़, बाकी सब गढ़ैया।
Barru Kalam
