Dongria Kondh of Niyamgiri: Where forests, food and faith shape everyday life
The shopkeeper tips a handful of dried mango slices onto the tarpaulin and examines them carefully. Around him, the scales start moving, motorbikes weave through the crowd, and voices rise and fall in a dozen simultaneous negotiations. The Monday santha (weekly market) is underway in Kalyansingpur, a small town at the foot of the Niyamgiri range in Odisha.
Women of the Dongria Kondh tribe buy dried fish at a Monday shandy in Kalyan Singpur, a small town in the foothills of the Niyamgiri range in Odisha. Photo: KR Deepak | Photo credit: KR DEEPAK
By 10:00 a.m., bags of dried mangoes are piling up in the market. Dongria Kondh families from the villages on the other side of the hills wait patiently to sell produce harvested from the forests and grown on the distant slopes.
A traditional dagger secured in a hair bun of a woman of the Dongria Kondh tribe in the Niyamgiri range of Odisha. The distinctive practice forms part of the tribe’s cultural identity, with the dagger serving both practical and protective purposes in their daily lives amidst the rugged mountain terrain. | Photo credit: KR Deepak
Women are easy to spot in a crowd. Strands of colored beads cover their necks and chests, several small metal earrings frame their faces, and a small dagger rests discreetly in a tightly curled hair bun. Many also wear hand-embroidered stoles, the geometric motifs of which reflect the long tradition of craftsmanship in the hills.
Some travel from dawn to reach the market. For the next few hours, the market will determine the value of seasonal work.
Wild mango, native tur dal, ragi and black gram change hands in quick succession. Conversations range between crop yields, rainfall and prices. Just beyond the market, the forested slopes of Niyamgiri rise into the distance. For the Dongria Kondh, one of India’s Particularly Vulnerable Tribal Groups (PVTG), these hills are both home and livelihood.
A Dongria Kondh woman buys dried fish at a Monday shandy in Kalyan Singpur, a small town at the foothills of Orissa’s Niyamgiri range. | Photo credit: KR Deepak
Our journey to this region starts from Rayagada, about 40 kilometers from Kalyansingpur. As the road climbs towards Niyamgiri, the terrain changes almost imperceptibly. The fields give way to dense vegetation and the horizon fills with rolling ridges.
Villages occasionally appear on the slopes. Rows of modest concrete houses stand amid fruit trees and cultivated fields. Solar panels twinkle from rooftops. Cell phones have found their way into the hills; however, daily life remains firmly rooted in agriculture, forest production and community ties.
Dongria Kondh tribals head to Monday’s weekly shandy in Kalyansingpur, at the foothills of Odisha’s Niyamgiri range, where the market remains an important center of trade and community interaction. | Photo credit: KR Deepak
The Dongria Kondh inhabit the Niyamgiri hills across the Rayagada and Kalahandi districts of southwestern Odisha. Known for their horticultural traditions and millet cultivation, they share a spiritual bond with Niyam Raja, a deity they believe resides in the hills.
A landmark judgment
Their bond with the deity drew national attention more than a decade ago during the long-running battle against proposed bauxite mining in Niyamgiri. For years, the community opposed the Vedanta-linked plans, arguing that mining would threaten forests, water resources and sacred sites.
Tribals from the primitive tribal group – Dongria Kondh emerging from their homes in traditional attire for a village festival near the Niyamgiri hills in Odisha. | Photo credit: KR Deepak
In 2013, the Supreme Court issued a landmark judgment ordering that gram sabhas decide whether mining can continue in areas considered sacred by tribal communities. The decision was hailed as a milestone for tribal rights under the Forest Rights Act. Gram sabhas unanimously rejected the proposal, a verdict that continues to resonate across Niyamgiri.
More than a decade later, the issue remains part of everyday conversation.
A dish of indigenous varieties of dal and plantain served on a plate made of stitched leaves at Phakeri village in Niyamgiri, Odisha. | Photo credit: KR DEEPAK
“Our fields, streams and forests give us everything we need. We make money from what we grow and sell. Why would we trade it for something that could damage the hills?” asks Babul of Phakeri village. “Niyamgiri is much more than our home. It is what sustains us.”
Mango season
If the hills provide it, the Monday Santa is where their bounty finds a market.
At this time of year, dried wild mangoes dominate the trade. The fruit comes from villages like Phakeri in Parsali Panchayat after being cut and dried in the sun. Traders carefully check the products before weighing them.
“This year the crop has been good and there is more produce in the market,” says J Bhaskar, a wholesaler. “Last year, dried mango was sold at around ₹85 per kilo. This season, it is closer to ₹45.”
Women of the primitive Dongria Kondh tribal group in the forest at their village festival near the Niyamgiri Hills of Odisha. | Photo credit: KR Deepak
Consignments travel far beyond Niyamgiri and find buyers in Raipur, Andhra Pradesh and Mumbai. The window is short. June is the only month when these wild varieties are available in significant quantities.
At the village table
A dish of native varieties of dal and plantain, ragi, mango, pineapple and berries served on a leaf plate made of stitched leaves at Phakeri village in Niyamgiri, Odisha. | Photo credit: KR DEEPAK
By early afternoon, the shops in the santhov were largely closed. Bags of dried mangoes have found buyers and many families have already started their journey home. We follow one such road into the hills, leaving behind the hustle and bustle of Kalyansingpur.
Dongria Kondh tribal women making bowls and plates by stitching leaves in Phakeri village in Niyamgiri, Odisha. | Photo credit: KR Deepak
Houses appear among jackfruit, mango and tamarind trees, with cultivated sites spread across the hillsides. In one Dongria Kondh village, preparations are underway for lunch.
Food is served on leaf plates with bowls made from stapled leaves. There are native varieties of dal mixed and cooked with vegetables such as brinjal, accompanied by plantain stir fry, mango and pineapple slices, kala jamun and a handful of native black berries and a bowl of ragi porridge.
Almost every ingredient comes from the surrounding fields, orchards or forests. What is served for lunch is in many ways a reflection of what the mountains provide.
An ordinary afternoon
As the afternoon light softens, the village settles into a leisurely rhythm.
Children of the Dongria Kondh tribe play cricket under a big tree in Phakeri village in Niyamgiri, Odisha. | Photo credit: KR Deepak
Near a cluster of houses, Munna peels a jackfruit tree with remarkable ease before depositing the ripe fruit on the ground. Baskets of fruit rest in front of several houses, slices of mango dry in the sun, and conversations drift from shaded backyards. A short distance away, children gather under a large tree to play cricket.
As we leave the hills, the bags of dried mangoes sold earlier in the day are already beginning their journey to distant towns.