The Warlis are among the more than 90 million "adivasis," meaning original inhabitants, who make up nearly 10 percent of India's billion-plus population but are quickly falling by the wayside of the country's newfound prosperity.

Displaced from forests by big dam projects and power plants, but inadequately compensated, India's once self-sufficient tribal communities now struggle to eke out an existence on the fringes of one of the world's fastest-growing economies.

"We don't have houses. We have no electricity, no water and no money," said Janardhan Walvi, Chari's former sarpanch, or local council head. "The forests are being cut. We have remained backward because we have no resources."

On almost every indicator of well-being, India's tribal communities fall below the national average, according to government estimates.

Only a third can read or write, compared to half nationwide, and most live in poverty. They suffer malnutrition and illnesses such as sickle cell anemia at a far higher rate than average.

Tribal people have also shouldered a disproportionate share of the burden of development, accounting for half of those displaced from their traditional homes since India's independence in 1947.

UNABLE TO COMPETE

Bombay billboards exhort consumers to take out loans for cars, homes and washing machines. But just 75 miles away in Chari, Pandu Nimla can't raise the funds to drill a well.

Unwilling to approach rapacious moneylenders, he has tried for months to get money from a government scheme without success.

"Those who really need the money don't get it, and those who don't do," he said, with a hint of anger in his voice.

This is just one of many examples of the tribal people's inability to negotiate the economic system, said Pradip Prabhu, founder of the Kashtakari Sanghatna, an organization that has worked for 25 years among the Warlis and other tribal people in the region.

"Living with nature is based on co-existence and high levels of respect, especially of the strong for the weak," he said. "This gives rise to a non-competitive, non-appropriative culture. They do not have the aggression required to negotiate in the labor market."

Out of the forests, the Warlis, who number around half a million, move into mainstream cultivation, often without secure property titles. Without enough land for all of them, many are then forced into unskilled labor, working for daily wages on construction sites or nearby factories.

A shortage of teachers means the schools suffer too.

"The biggest problem facing our community is the lack of education," said Chintaman Wanaga, a Warli and the region's member of parliament. "The second is a severe dearth of water."

Of the deforestation, locals say criminal cartels that profit from illegal felling have only made it worse in the past decade.

"The forests are finished," Wanaga said.

LOSS OF IDENTITY

In paintings that have gained critical recognition in and outside India, Warlis mourn their eviction from the forests as the loss of both a centuries-old home and a cohesive culture.

A painting that shows a circular dance, for example, may also depict a moneylender, says art historian Yashodhara Dalmia.

"Through their paintings, the Warlis reveal their own stories by dexterously weaving them into ritual patterns of song and dance," said Dalmia.

Prabhu argues that the cultural vacuum gives rise to social problems such as alcoholism and suicide, particularly in villages where the material conditions of life have improved.

"The availability of money and the breakdown of a culture that provided for community leisure has resulted in the rise of these ills," said Prabhu. "They also simply don't know how to convert their surplus into savings."