Songlines of Chambal

How do the residents of Sheikhpur Gudha, Phoolan Devi's village in Uttar Pradesh, remember her: as a survivor, a rebel, a leader?

- Tanul Thakur

SHEIKHPUR Gudha looks like a place where the sun has forgotten to rise. Even by the standards of a standard Indian hamlet, it feels gloomy. Buffaloes and goats—hobbling and sauntering from all directions—make the narrow lanes narrower. Neglect marks the battered roads, except buffaloes showering them with shit. Situated on a riverbank, though, the village faces the stirring Noon River, which meets the Yamuna up north, where boats lounge on the shore. A right turn leads you to a house that, over the last four decades, has brought reporters, filmmakers, and authors from all around the world. The villagers are so accustomed to—and yet so fascinated by— the media that a journalist and a camera still animate them. They become tourist guides, make small talk, and tail you. They know why you’re here, and they’ll show you the house.

The most striking thing about it is not the house itself but an elevated room attached to a veranda through two flights of stairs. It’s a mandir, technically, where the visitors take off their shoes before entering. A marble statue of a woman, folding hands, greets them. She is the beti—almost a deity—of this village, who is alive even in death. “The world’s fourth revolutionary woman and an ex-Member of Parliament [MP],” reads a plaque on the wall, “Veerangana Phoolan Devi-ji’s statue was installed on August 10, 2020.”