Biharo ka Ped: A Remembrance of Resistance and Resilience on the International Day for the Remembrance of the Slave Trade and its Abolition
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Today, on the International Day for the Remembrance of the Slave Trade and its Abolition, we reflect on the resilience of those who endured oppression and fought for dignity. The story of Nazni, a woman from Jharkhand whose life is immortalized in Biharo ka Ped—a mango tree in Haryana—mirrors this struggle. Sold into a deceptive marriage, subjected to dehumanizing labor, and labeled with contempt, Nazni’s journey echoes the experiences of enslaved individuals who resisted systemic injustice. Her tree stands as a symbol of empowerment for women facing discrimination, much like the legacy of the 1791 Haitian Revolution. Let’s honor their strength and continue advocating for equality.
The Tree of Biharo: A Symbol of Feminine Pride
By Anjum Bano
As we step into the shade of a mango orchard nestled among sprawling wheat fields, the villagers warn us not to eat the fruit from a particular tree. Yet, curiously, we see some people quietly taking its branches and bark. Upon inquiry, we learn they are collecting these to make amulets to protect their livestock from illness. It’s astonishing—one moment, the villagers caution against eating the tree’s fruit, and the next, they rely on its parts to cure their animals!
We are in Baniyawala, a village in Haryana’s Yamunanagar district, where the wheat harvest is in full swing. Tired farmers come to rest under the cool shade of this mango orchard. On this sweltering afternoon, we hear the tale of a tree that stands tall in Haryana but is known thousands of kilometers away in the name of a woman from Jharkhand. The locals call it “Biharo ka Ped” (The Tree of Biharo), a name that carries a profound story. This tree has become a living symbol of struggle, identity, dignity, and women’s empowerment for women brought to Haryana through marriage from states like Jharkhand, Bihar, West Bengal, and Himachal Pradesh.
The term “Biharo” is used in Haryana, often with contempt, to refer to women married into the region from other states. Whether she hails from Bihar, West Bengal, or Assam, any woman not native to Haryana is labeled “Biharo” and often faces discrimination and disdain. In this prejudiced environment, “Biharo ka Ped” has emerged as a beacon of pride for these women from other states. To uncover the story behind this tree, we speak with local women, and their words unravel a saga of unparalleled struggle and resilience.
The year was 1994, in a small village called Manihari Kurma in Jharkhand’s Godda district, where Nazni lived with her family. She lost her father in childhood, leaving her mother to raise four sisters single-handedly. Poverty gripped their lives—there was barely enough food to eat or decent clothes to wear. One day, Nazni’s uncle arrived with strangers from Haryana, claiming they were from a good family and wished to marry Nazni. “They’ll take good care of her,” he assured, “and they’ll support your family and her sisters too.” Seeing their dire circumstances, Nazni’s mother agreed, and Nazni was married off to a man from Haryana. She left for Ladwa village in Haryana, far from home, stepping into an unknown life.
Nazni had hoped marriage would paint her life in new colors, offering a home where she could nurture her dreams. But the moment she crossed the threshold of her in-laws’ house, those dreams began to crumble. The first betrayal came when she discovered that the family she had married into was not Muslim, as she had been led to believe. Her marriage was built on a foundation of lies and deception.
The villagers and her in-laws refused to accept her as an equal. They taunted her with the word “Biharo,” using it to belittle her. When she confronted her husband and in-laws about the humiliation, she learned a devastating truth: her own uncle had sold her into this marriage for money, betraying her trust.
Unable to return to her maternal home in Jharkhand—knowing neither the way nor having money for the journey—Nazni was trapped. Life grew harsher. Her in-laws treated her not as a human but as a beast of burden, forcing her into backbreaking labor like a bonded worker. Often, she went hungry, and when she dared to complain to her husband, she faced beatings and further humiliation. Each day became a new kind of torment.
Years of suffering passed, and Nazni became the mother of a little girl. But when her daughter was just two, the cruelty extended to her as well. To keep Nazni working, her in-laws separated her from her child, starving the little girl as they did her mother. This was beyond Nazni’s endurance. While she had silently borne the abuse inflicted on her, a mother’s love gave her the courage to fight for her daughter. When she raised her voice, her in-laws threw her and her child out of the house.
With nowhere to go, no money, and no knowledge of the way back to Jharkhand, Nazni, clutching her daughter, reached the railway station. Unsure of where to turn, she began living there, surviving on the meager alms she received. But this existence was unbearable to her.
Summoning her courage, Nazni returned to her husband’s village, Baniyawala, and approached the village headman, sharing her story and pleading for work. Moved by her plight, the headman gave her and her daughter food and employed her to tend his orchard. The orchard and her daughter became Nazni’s world. She built a small hut there and dedicated herself to caring for the trees.
Life began to improve. For two or three years, Nazni tended the orchard and raised her daughter. During this time, a man named Nazar Gurjar from the same village learned of her story and expressed his desire to marry her. Initially, Nazni refused, but the headman persuaded her, citing the future of her daughter and a chance at a better life. Nazni agreed, and she and Nazar were married.
Nazar worked as a cattle herder, but their financial situation was poor. Nazni continued tending the orchard while helping with household chores and taking on additional work caring for livestock in nearby homes. Over time, she became a mother to five more children three daughters and two sons—bringing her total to six. Life seemed to settle into a rhythm, but storms often arrive unannounced. A new crisis loomed over Nazni’s hard-earned peace.
As Nazni toiled to build a better life, Nazar began an affair with another woman from the village. Influenced by her, he started abusing Nazni, resorting to violence. The daily conflicts and domestic abuse pushed Nazni to a breaking point. She fell gravely ill, and during this time, the other woman came to their home, accused Nazni of faking her illness, hurled insults, and slapped her in front of Nazar. This was the final straw for Nazni, a woman who had endured a lifetime of hardship with resilience. Unable to bear her husband’s indifference and the humiliation, she went to the orchard and, in the summer of 2012, took her life by hanging herself from the very mango tree she had tended.
Years have passed since Nazni left this world. Nazar succumbed to cancer shortly after her death. Her children remain in the village her daughters are married, and her sons are leading their own lives. Yet, “Biharo ka Ped” stands as a testament to Nazni’s struggle, courage, and pride. She never asked for anything from anyone; she earned her keep through her own labor. Life battered her, but even in death, she continues to give. For women from other states, “Biharo ka Ped” is a symbol of self-respect—a tree that teaches them to stay rooted in their identity and to stand tall for their dignity despite adversity. For the locals, it is a source of healing and blessings.
Video - Biharo ka ped (Tree of Biharo)
The story of Nazni and “Biharo ka Ped” captures the unyielding spirit of a woman who faced betrayal, discrimination, and unimaginable hardship yet left behind a legacy of resilience and empowerment. If any clarification is needed regarding specific cultural nuances or details, feel free to let me know!