I spent Diwali week in Bastar, travelling across Andhra Pradesh, Chhattisgarh and Odisha, mostly with various Indian tribes. Development is rapidly erasing tribal lifestyles and traditions. So, my sister Sarayu Kamat, who has a knack for ‘curating’ intoxicating holidays, got Vana Safaris to work out an outstanding tribal circuit. It was election time in Chhattisgarh, of which Bastar is a district, with headquarters in Jagdalpur. Our vehicle was checked now and then, but otherwise, we only read of Maoists threatening to chop off locals’ fingers if they voted, from the occasional newspaper bits in which the steamed sweet potatoes came wrapped. Otherwise, this was a real holiday — no newspapers, and very little Wi-Fi, email or WhatsApp — very heavenly.

We met various tribals across the states, including Gonds, Bison-horn Marias (who danced for us wearing their bison-horn headdress), Murias and Dorlas (whose bare torsos were covered with beaded jewellery, rather than clothes). In the weekly haats (bazaars), we met more tribals, including Parajas, Gadabas, Bhumias and Dongria Kondhs. In Bastar, a Bhatra woman offered us, early morning, a welcome drink of mahua, a colourless alcohol distilled from mahua flowers, with the effect of a very angry donkey’s kick. Later, we had dinner at the home of Guruwari, a Muria, under the stars. We were offered sulphi, an alcohol made from the sap of the fish-tail palm (“very good for the tummy,” yes, yes). A simple, delicious meal followed, on sal-leaf plates. Sadly, we were not offered chapra, a chutney made of red ants.