Date: 3rd September 2011
Place: Ranebennur, Karnataka, India
With Kannada song ‘Banigondu Yelle Yellide?’ (Is there a
limit to the Sky?) being played aloud amidst creaking wiper sound, I was
driving my car in the Ranebennur streets along with my Father and younger sister
Suma. Both my companions were silent either enjoying the song or feeling filthy
of the muddy roads aftermath the previous day’s heavy downpour. Just as the long rough weather had cleared,
farmers had flooded to agri-intensive town of Ranebennur either to buy or sell
something. By the time I had spent time negotiating road pot-holes, cyclists
and pedestrians, the car had reached town outskirts. Yes, we were just beside
our farm, my father’s brainchild which he is raising to cut down his boredom post
retirement.
About 3
months ago when I was here with helping hands to my parents, we had hand-sowed
some vegetable and cereal seeds. Then, I had seen many farmers busy in
field-works and my gaze could go several miles beyond our field to stop at
hills. But today, my vision was limited to several meters, utmost to few
neighboring fields because of massive vegetative growth. We moved our lunch
baggage to a tree shade while the rain played hide and seek game with us.
Crossing
the barricade of beans plants, we stepped into a creeper lawn which was filled
with ridge-gourds and pumpkins. Suma was excited to locate her first gourd
while my father revealed us many, which he had concealed them from poachers (the
cattle, birds, insects and humans). My father explained: To the right were
toor-dal which were expected in next few months and to the left were remnants
left after green-dal harvesting. Further up in the farm were urad-dal to the
right and til-dal to the left ready for harvesting but for sunny days. Then came
our Safal fresh organic garden with lady’s finger (LF), garlic, tomatoes,
coriander and other leafy plants. I was dumb-struck by the change made-over in
3 months! A single Ayurvedic-tablet
sized LF seed had blown up to my height and was falling to ground unable to
hold its own fruits. My calculative mind was seeing about Rs 50 clinging to
each plant (about 1-1.5 kilos) and they were all around me. My maths was going
all wrong suddenly. A small 10 paisa worth seed was yielding about Rs 80 in
3-4months before it dies with a whopping 2400% p.a return! And why the heck was
I investing in taxable FDs for meager 8% pa? All these calculations were making
no sense to me. Last time I was in this state of mind was when I was
rupee-converting all dollar quotes during my first US trip. I was pulled back
from my calculator mode of operation to real-life when the air filled with
coriander aroma. Our father was teaching Suma on how to choose and pluck right
coriander stalks. I ran to them not to miss any lessons deciding agriculture
should be my additional source of income.
Well, both were sitting around a plethora of some bubbling life. A
hundred centipedes were emerging from soil, frightening my sister to fall back.
We left the scene after our father explained these were part of food chain
inviting many birds and pest-killer insects.
Next in
the field were jowar and maize. The height of maize plants made me realize why
‘Finding Way in Maize Field’ game existed. I thought I would better not apply
my maths on the maize’s height versus time. When we emerged out of maize forest
and stepped into cotton shrubs, a pack of deer stood inviting us few feets
away! We crawled our ways to get a closer view of the black-buck deer family
but ended up startling them. They leaped in air beautifully, mocking our
attempts. Meanwhile my toiled hands & elbow had hit something fascinating.
‘The Black Soil’ underneath me resembled the ‘Black Forest Cake’. I could
hardly resist myself scooping a fist-full sample of it before my sister
complained it as a childish act before my father. All brothers having younger
sisters would agree to me that their sister’s complaints never go empty when
parents are around. I shrugged my shoulders to clear few mud-particles and more
of my sister’s complaints.
Back in
the tree-shade, we ate like monsters, the fresh vegetables along with Amma’s
chapathi’s and rice-sambar. Rool after
roll slipped down the throat which matched the exquisite taste of Brigade Rex
Theatre rolls. But the natural ambience was far better than the ‘The Leela
Palace’ ones where I had got my wallet burrowed deep last year on auspicious
wedding anniversary day.
I
drove back home analyzing how people fill essence to their lives. Just as I was
making my living amidst the high-rises in computer maize crossing daily traffic
hurdles, my father was finding solace in his high-rise plants networked with
various interdependent living-beings and crossing several ant and beetle
traffic routes. While my office’s aroma comes from air-freshener’s nozzles, my
father’s farm gets it from flower stigmas.
At work, I see beautiful wallpapers and scenic computer screen-savers
while my father sees them in his guests the butterflies, peacocks, deers,
beetles and the cattle. What an amazing
life. Being an optimist, I thought I was lucky witnessing both these worlds.
