In Borpada village in Madhya Pradesh’s Jhabua district, residents revived the Bhil tradition of Halma to clean and restore a public well.
After repeated appeals to the panchayat failed, villagers came together on May 6, 2026, to remove silt, stones and debris from the well.
Halma is a traditional form of collective labour, where people work together without wages, based on mutual support and community responsibility.
The initiative shows how tribal knowledge and community action can support local development, especially when public services fall short.
In Petlawad tehsil of Madhya Pradesh’s Jhabua district, within Moicharani Panchayat, lies the small tribal village of Borpada. It may appear as no more than a dot on a government map, but its daily life is shaped by challenges as serious as those faced in any large city. The difference is that the hardships of a city often make headlines, while those of a village are more quietly endured.
The water crisis in Borpada had not arrived suddenly. It had deepened year by year. There was a public well at the centre of the village, but the protective parapet around its mouth had never been completed. Every monsoon, soil, stones and debris slipped into the well. Over three years, it has filled with silt and contaminated mud.
Villagers approached the panchayat repeatedly. Each time, they were given assurances. Each time, they returned disappointed. After three years, hope should have waned, but instead strengthened into resolve.
A meeting of the Gram Swaraj Samuh, formed by Vaagdhara, was held in Borpada. When the condition of the well came up for discussion, someone said that waiting for the government might cost them another three years. It was then that the villagers remembered an old practice passed down by their ancestors: halma.
At that meeting, they decided that Borpada would hold its halma on May 6, 2026.
On the morning of May 6, 2026 traditional musical instruments sounded through the village and halma songs were sung. These songs carry more than melody. They are a call to work together and a reminder of shared responsibility.
The procession moved through the village. People stepped out of their homes. Women lifted tageris, or flat baskets, on to their heads. Men carried spades and pickaxes on their shoulders.
When the villagers gathered around the well and looked inside, they saw what three years of neglect had left behind: layers of stones, silt and mud. But they did not turn away.
Some climbed down into the well, while others stood above. Stones were lifted out, mud was cleared, and baskets were filled and emptied in a steady rhythm. Halma is an old collective tradition of the Bhil tribal community. Its meaning is simple: to work together without wages or contract, sustained by mutual obligation and belonging. There is no formal leader and no grand announcement. There is only work, done side by side.
The roots of this tradition go back to a time when these communities had neither large resources nor government support. What they had was one another.
During the farming season, when work was heavy and hands were few, the village would gather in one person’s field. If a house had to be built, a well dug or a small dam constructed, Halma was called. No wages were demanded and none were given. In return, there was trust: when my turn comes, the village will stand with me.
Vishnu Ninama, who led the halma that day, says the village had waited long enough. “We had been making rounds to the panchayat for three years. Every time we were given assurances, never action. When we decided to do it ourselves, a lightness came over us, as though a burden had been lifted.”
Dhulsingh Vasuniya describes halma as something deeper than collective labour. “Halma is something our ancestors gave us. It is not just work — it is our way of saying: we are one. When the village stands together, no task feels too great.”
Ramchandra Vasuniya points to another important part of the day: the halma was not a task for men alone. Women from the village took part equally, filling baskets, carrying debris and helping clean the well. It reflected a long-standing practice in the Bhil community, where collective work does not draw a line between men and women.
The Vaagdhara Gram Swaraj Samuh also played an important role in this halma. It did not offer ready-made answers. Instead, it created a space where villagers could discuss the problem and arrive at their own decision.
In the language of development, this is often called community participation. But in practice, it means something more direct: trusting people’s wisdom, traditions and relationships. Mukesh Porwal, a community facilitator at Vaagdhara, says the halma carries a message beyond Borpada. “We want this to be more than a single day’s effort. What this village has done shows a path to other villages too — trust in your own strength.”
When tribal societies are viewed through an urban lens, one thing is often missed: many of these communities have preserved, over centuries, the art of living and working together.
A tradition such as halma is older and deeper than modern ideas of teamwork or community development. There is no salary, no desire for recognition and no public stage. There is only the understanding that when a neighbour is in difficulty, others will help.
At a time when individualism is spreading into village life too, traditions such as halma remain important. Its true value will be recognised when halma is treated not as a substitute for development, but as a partner in it.