The story of Basanti's fish pond

The beginning

The pond at Basanti's place (first of the 5 homes I stayed in, in Munsiyari) was already half dug up when Ola and I came in to the picture. We started digging bit by bit and soon Basanti’s sons joined in and the pond grew to a decent size of approximately 6m by 4m.

To put plastic or not?

The soil at the base of the pond is very permeable and there was no chance of water being let in before making it suitable for a pond. I was totally against putting plastic and wanted to try other alternatives such as creating a thick layer of compacted soil, gleying using dung and other organic matter or using a layer of natural clay such as Sodium Bentonite. After a quick breakfast discussion with a soil expert who was in Munsiyari by chance, it was decided to go ahead with layering the pond with plastic as we did not want to run the risk of the fish dying. The soil expert gave a few practical tips and suggested that the plastic needs be fully protected from direct sunlight to avoid UV rays from decomposing the plastic. 


15^th May 2012 - One lovely day and a dozen strong women

My assessment of the work of layering with organic matter and plastic was about 2 to 3 days of dedicated hard-work and there was little chance that I could take out so much time in all the other things that I had to finish. Malika told me that there was no way I could return home unless the pond was done!! She suggested a shramdaan from Maati women and there we were, about a dozen strong women from ages 12 to 50 shoveling mud, carrying cow dung and even cutting stones. Lunch break coincided with a bout of rain and we got a chance to catch up over a hearty lunch that included Rajma and Aloo Mutter from Basanti's garden.

Though ideas came from everyone, Rajda (Basanti’s husband) took the lead and sweated it out even though he was quite weak from fever. By 6 pm, the pond was done and I had seen a live example of the community happily participating in a project that did not have anything to do with them directly. Later in the day, Rajda created a water inlet and the pond was full by the next morning. On the 20^th, the kids dived into the pond at Malika’s place to get fish for their own pond.

Within a few days of the pond getting completed, the place came alive with the pond attracting damsel flies and dragon flies, apart from tourists. There is something about water and fish that attracts people - I remember my friend and I standing by the pool at the Infosys campus and spending many quiet minutes leisurely watching the fish.
The last time I called to check, Basanti had added more fish into her pond, this time from the Gori Ganga river in the valley.

Now for all the boring details:

Specifications

Final size of pond (approx): 6m * 4m,  2 ½ feet deep

Plastic sheet (used to build temporary roofs): 2 thick sheets of 6m by 7m, total cost Rs. 1500.

Steps we followed

1      Dig dig dig
2.     Create a slope for layering the plastic
3.     Clear stones and smoothing the surface by tapping with hands and legs
4.     Layer the pond floor with organic matter (leaves, cow-dung, hay)
5.     Cover with plastic with a good 2 feet of plastic sheet coming over the bank of the pond and a large overlap between the 2 sheets
6.     Secure the sheet by placing heavy stones on the edge
7.     Cover sheet with soil, leaves, hay, dung – a thick enough layer to support an ecosystem.
8.     Place few big stones and wood to create spaces for fish to build their homes and play
9.     Beautify the edge by planting local plants
10.   Put in the fish

Small is beautiful indeed

A few months ago, a friend recommended the book 'Small is Beautiful' by E.F. Schumacher. This book lives up to its name as it is a small book of 250 pages and it suited me fine as I am generally a lazy and slow reader.


Though the book was written more than 30 years ago, the ideas are still relevant. I would say they are more relevant now than ever. It links human behaviour and economics and puts people at the forefront of development. Though progress and development are meant for people, most of the huge development programs that we generally know of somehow miss the human aspect. A classic example is the surge of many unnecessary flyovers in Bangalore, most of which have no provision for people to cross the road. Also, I haven't come across anyone who is happy to be working in such projects either.

The author talks about the use of simple 'Intermediate technology' which is not only less expensive, but also easy to train and control. I could see this in action as I saw a few people make a stone path in Sarmoli village in Munsiyari. The people cut stones that are locally available and laid them out using their hands and simple tools. They seemed satisfied with their work and happily posed for photographs. The other important thing is the ease of taking in feedback and suggestions from locals, on the go. In this case, the local who was accompanying me told them that the stone path is better than the cement one since the stone path provides a better grip especially when there is snow. Whether the suggestion will be implemented or not is secondary, but the ease of providing feedback is nothing compared to the complexity and bureaucracy involved in the massive projects in cities.

I had the same feeling when I visited a couple of micro hydro power projects and water mills which are built almost entirely from locally available materials. Unfortunately, some of these have begun to shutdown as huge hydro power projects are making their way into these serene places and their impact is already visible through many landslides in the area.

Which brings me to the concept of Buddhist Economics which has simplicity and non-violence as its base. The author makes a reference to 'The Middle way' by saying "It is not wealth that stands in the way of liberation but the attachment to wealth; not the enjoyment of pleasurable things but the craving for them." Which translates to achievement of maximum well-being with the minimum of consumption, i.e., small means leading to extraordinarily satisfactory results. A demonstration of this principle could be seen in the little village of Paton (Munsiyari, Pithoragarh, Uttarakhand) which I was fortunate enough to visit (thanks to Malika for forcing me to go on the trip and Ram for guiding us). The village is off-grid, yet, as Ram noted and I couldn't agree more, people have light, can charge their mobiles and watch their favourite TV serials - all powered by solar energy!

Knowing where your food comes from

Two weeks ago, I had to move to another home since I had to vacate my better furnished and more beautiful room to accomodate a German couple. My hostess was pretty upset that I was leaving but I did not mind much because the new home was less than 100 meters away and I could drop by my old home almost everyday (and I still do). What I did not realize was the home-grown food that I was going to miss. And the tasty natural milk from the cows. And a chance to sit in front of the fire and wait for the milk to slowly come to a boil as I knit my scarf. A farmer's home is a lot more different as it is generally more active with a lot of work to be done, come rain or shine. There is cowdung to be cleared and taken to the fields, there is grass to be cut for the cows, goats to be taken care of, weeds to be cleared, seeds to be planted and plants to be watered.

The knowledge of where our food comes from does make a difference and can add to the satisfaction of a good meal. The closer it comes from, the less is the distance between us and our food (especially our daily meals). As my friend and roomie noted, when you eat with your hand instead of a spoon, it feels much better since you have nothing between you and your food. She being a European hadn't been exposed to eating with hands. I was impressed by her observation and the clarity with which she put her thought across. More so because English is not her native language. Coming back to food, my current hostess does grow some potatoes and greens, but nothing like having a larger land where you grow green peas, rajma, beans, methi, radish, onion, garlic, etc.. Additionally, the green house accomodates some exotic stuff like raspberries and brinjal (I call brinjal exotic because I do not remember seeing one in the last one month!).

The other advantage of having fields/gardens is that the cycle gets completed for kitchen waste. No food gets wasted, more so when there are cows. Even in my current home, food waste is given to neighbours who have cows, but the whole feeling is different. It is similar to living in urban areas where we live in small isolated islands, not knowing where food comes from and where the waste goes.
Though groups like DailyDump and MySunnyBalcony are doing a very job of closing this loop in individual homes with their composting solutions and urban gardens, there is still a long way to go. What worries me however, is that these beautiful villages are making the same mistake as their urban counterparts as families are either becoming smaller or are moving to towns and cities making fields and cows difficult to maintain. But, I also see hope as a few committed individuals like the people in the women's collective I am interning with have kept up their struggle to maintain what they have realized is important to them - their connnection with their land and everything that it produces.

Language and lifeskills paying off (literally)

When I considered spending a few months in Munsiyari, I asked Malika about learning/working opportunities with Maati(the local women's collective)/Himal Prakriti (a local trust to preserve local bio-diversity). Though she welcomed me, she could not promise anything on the earning front. How could she? I do not have any specialist skills that could help me earn anything worthwhile here.. or so I thought and hence came here without any expectations.

Within a few days of seeing my enthusiasm and my work (!!), I was being considered for the next funded project in the pipeline. Even as we discussed the timelines for one of these projects, I found myself working as a research assistant on a German research project on student migration in the valley. I am not new to surveys and data collection, but the reason I got included in the project makes me laugh! Since I am the only intern who knows both Hindi and English and is available to work on this project right now, I am part of it along with a local and together we are collecting migration related data in the neighboring villages.

What amuses me is that I barely manage to communicate in Hindi (though I can understand quite well and enjoy watching movies) and the less said about my grammar, the better. Hindi is a language that I learnt on my own (with some help from dad) when I was 9 years old and when I think of it now, it makes me feel proud. When I changed my school in my 4th standard, the new school had Hindi since 1st standard so I had to catch up with them. I still remember the day I cried as I wrote the Hindi alphabet as an answer to all the Hindi questions asked in the entrance exam. Since I was good at the other subjects, I did get admitted into the new school. I spent the whole of my 3rd standard holidays learning Hindi from "Learn Hindi in 30 days" and also by watching TV. Even with all this, my Hindi is still pretty bad though I put on a fake confidence when I have to manage in Hindi speaking areas. This same Hindi now helps me earn a few hundred rupees per day and it covers a major portion of my living expenses here for a few weeks. Thank life for the small mercies!

Another skill that is paying off is my driving. Though I have an interest in learning new stuff, I must admit that I am a pretty slow learner. Almost a decade ago, I went for driving classes and then I went again after a couple of years. Since we did not have a car then, I lost touch. I took lessons again, this time with my brother in our Bolero. I remember he waking me up at 5 am and there I was, a little girl in a big car, half asleep and half scared trying to learn the dreaded half-clutch. My friends threatened to not accompany me unless I drove at a speed of more than 20 km/hr. But, I did not give up and finally reached the stage of getting compliments for my driving. Today, I am 'world-famous' in Munsiyari as probably the only female taxi driver in Munsiyari because I happened to drive a couple of tourists around since the regular driver wasn't available. It was my first driving experience in the hill side, and except for a small glitch (the half-clutch again!), I think I did a decent job at my new part-time job. I received a payment of Rs. 300 for a couple of hrs of driving (plus free entry to the local museum, some compliments and many raised eyebrows). On the way back, I offered a lift to a local till my village. She refused because I had already gone past my village - I hadn't noticed it as I couldn't properly gauge the distance by car and all houses looked the same for the first few days :)

A typical day in Munsiyari

I thought a good way to start writing about my experiences at Munsiyari would be to describe a typical day here. But, the fact is, there seems to be no such thing as a typical day.

When I came here more than a week ago, I was down with fever and hadn't eaten in 2 days. I do not know how I survived the 11-hour journey by road taking us from the lower Himalayas into the higher Himalayas, a journey that I almost missed because I forgot to get down at Haldwani and finally got down at Kathgodam - the last train station in this part of Uttarakhand. When I arrived, my 'family' (the homestay where I am put up) was waiting for me and all I remember from that day is that I had 1 hot roti and slept under 4 layers of blankets.

The next day, there was a meeting regarding forest rights hosted by a organization called Kalpavriksh from Pune and a local women's collective called Maati. And I finally met Malika Virdi - she is the reason I am here. I saw this video while I was in Toronto and was inspired by the holistic development with a strong connection with the land. So, here I am, to learn first hand.

Among the many things that I have found myself getting into, I am supposed to work with an engineering student from Poland who is here through Engineers Without Borders to work on mapping and improving the water supply system at the village we are staying in. So, one day, we go and map all the houses and the water connections in our village. The next day, we are looking for the right kind of soil to make model of the village so that it is easier for the locals to understand the topography and the gradients. Another day, we restart work on a half-done pond as the kids can't wait to put the fish in. The kids have joined in and there has been very good progress so far. As we work together on these activities, the student and I have struck a strong bond built through conversations on life, travel, culture, war, beliefs (and non-beliefs), water-filters, cheese, dogs, etc..

My other task is to get a decent solar cooker working. Some families here do have a box solar cooker given by the government of Uttarakhand and the kids do an amazing job of baking cakes in them. However, there is a need to be able to build one locally so that every family can have access to it. In the little free time that we get, I get to help my family with some gardening both outside and inside a green-house. I am impressed by the fact that science and technology has reached these remote corners.
In all these activities, the goat belonging to my family gives birth to 2 young ones and all the focus shifts to these as the mother refuses to feed its young ones. So, off I go with my new-found friend on a 2 km uphill trek to the nearest market to get a feeding bottle to feed the kids. Even with all the care, only one of them has survived so far.

There are other minor things that I get to do like fixing a phone, layering the kitchen floor with a mixture of mud and cow-dung, fixing additional shelves in the kitchen, renewing my tailoring and knitting skills, translating a water quality testing manual from Hindi to English (!!) so that my Polish friend could understand.. just to name a few.

In my broken Hindi, I ask the lady who runs the family I stay with, about what she feels about letting some stranger into their home. She said she was initially scared but then, in the 8 years that she has been running this program, she has had only good people coming in, and only a handful of them were like me who treat her family as theirs too! I realized I had passed the first test with good marks :). For me, the reason I feel the home-stay program is amazing is that when they let us into their homes, they let us into their hearts too!

Madness at Mylara Jaatre

I had heard a lot about the Mylara jaatre (village fair) from my aunts and grandmom. For a long time, I had thought Mylara was a fictitious place since it appears in the Kannada proverb "Konkana sutti Mylarakke hogodu" which roughly translates to "beating around the bush to make a point".

This time around, I happened to make it to the jaatre and could see another proverb in action - "jana marulo jaatre marulo" meaning "What/who is crazy? The people or the crowd".

My brother had tried visiting last year but did a U-turn after looking at the lakhs of people gathered for what is called Karanika (prophecy). He warned me about the crowds, but I saw an opportunity to take some colorful pictures. What I did not anticipate was the need for a long-range lens to capture the rustic innocence of the village folk.

I do not want to sound like an NRI or a foreigner visiting India, but I was truly stunned by the reactions of the people to a woman 'press reporter' - that was what I was promoted to as I stood on a water tank with a SLR camera in hand and a "photographer's cap" on my head. My dad watched in disbelief as he could not prevent me from climbing onto the water tank. People always want to say 'you cannot climb this', 'you should not do that' because they are limited by their own capabilities and thinking - whether it is a 10 ft water tank or a 10,000 ft mountain. I decided enough is enough, and with help from a bunch of guys, happily perched myself on top of the water tank from where I could get a panoramic view of the curious event that was to follow.

Every year, lakhs of devotees of Mylaralingeshwara (one of Lord Shiva various forms) visit this place called Mylara

(in Bellary district of Karnataka) on an annual piligrimage. People from north and central Karnataka come in tractors, bullock carts, buses and various other vehicles that are artistically decorated. It is amazing to see so many people united in one wholistic and simple belief. It is believed that whatever is pronounced by a lead Gorappa (a clan in North Karnataka)

during the Karnika turns out to be true.

The person who pronounces the prophecy fasts for 9 days and then on the day of the Karnika (which falls on Bharatha Poornima in Maagha month), climbs a 15 ft oil-smeared pole as if he is climbing a coconut tree and then says whatever God wishes to say through him. This time it was said "Muttina raashi, Kashta pattu, sukha pattitale parakh" which translates to "Heap of pearls (refering to the people), work hard and reap the benefit, thus is the prophecy". Once this is said, he falls off the pole. Just before the prophecy is pronounced, the Gorappa orders for silence and the huge gathering obediently follows his order. After the event, junior Gorappas are available for detailed interpretation of the prophecy.

The guys who gave me space on the water tank filled me with interesting tit-bits about the event and ensured that I did not miss capturing any interesting incident. They also gave me some complimentary buttermilk. In return, I need to send them their pictures that I took, by snail mail. I had assumed that everyone who went to college had access to the internet - I believe most of them do have, on their phones. Anyway, I finally get an opportunity to return a stranger's favor of sending pictures of our family outing long ago when we couldn't afford a camera.

Many more people waved, smiled and requested that their photographs be taken - I gladly obliged all of them with a big smile on my face too. Then, it was time to get down from my position and I almost did a Gorappa act by trying to jump off the tank as I have always had this problem since childhood, of climbing onto rooftops but too scared to get down. Finally, my uncle and dad helped me get down the conventional way.

We camped overnight in some beneficiary's farm and had yummy dinner that included chilli bajjis. The local farmers consider it a privilege to be able to give up part of their farms for the event. A good night's rest under coconut trees and a full moon and we were ready to start the second leg of the tour. The next morning, I watched as everyone (including oxen and tractors) took a dip in the Tunga Bhadra river before heading out to the village of Mylara where the main temple is situated. While my family went to say Hi to God, I opted to take more pictures of the people at the fair.

I couldn't believe as some people followed me and called out to me to have their pictures taken!

My day was made as this T-shirt aptly captures what I felt for being given an opportunity to experience this madness!

That was not all. On the way back, my aunt and grandmom entertained us with interesting stories about Lord Mylaralingeshwara. One story goes like this. Lord Mylaralingeshwara lends money to Lord Venkateshwara of Tirupathi for his marriage, but Lord V fails to return on time. When Lord M asks for the money to be returned, Lord V says that he will return it when the tamarind tree bears fruit. And believe it or not, all the tamarind trees near the temple of Lord M apparently do not bear fruit!! I would like to believe that there is some scientific reason behind this, but the story is very cleverly formed. Lord V surely maintains his reputation of being cunning!

Another story is a sweet one. Supposedly, Lord M accompanies all the people who comes to visit him till Harihara (on the way to Davanagere) to say bye to them. People thank Him for accompanying them till there, visit the temple at Harihara and then head back to their homes.

It is interesting to note that people not only give a human form to God but human character as well!

The way I saw the entire event with all the associated beliefs and stories is that it gives the people something to hold onto through the thick and thin of life, something to have fun and something to give back to society.

Granny's wisdom over a cup of (sugarless) coffee

I was visiting my aunt in a nearby village after a long time. My aunt's 75-year old mother-in-law looked at me and I was expecting the 'when are u getting married' question when she surprised me by asking if I would like to join her for coffee. The effects of urbanization had reached this village too and her sons had split and the younger son and his wife worked the whole day in a nearby factory. So, she had no company for her evening coffee. I gladly accepted the offer especially when she offered sugarless coffee. She needed my help with the kerosene stove and soon coffee was ready. I offered to teach her how to light the LPG stove but she was scared to try something new. Our talk moved onto dinner and granny expressed her disapproval of her daughter-in-law's lack of dedication while cooking because of the TV. I watched her patiently as she waited for all the mustard seeds to splutter and then added the masala which was ground using the grinding stone. I had just got some lessons on slow food. I offered to teach her to light the LPG stove again, but she refused. Another lesson - do not try to teach until the student is ready. I watched in awe as she made perfect ragi balls for the entire family. At the end of the cooking, the kitchen was tidy. Needless to say, the sambhar she prepared was yummy and mom keeps asking me for that recipe. What I realized at the end of the day was that all the granny needed was someone to talk to and someone to share her wisdom so that she feels valued for her contribution to the society however minute it is.

I experienced a similar situation yesterday, with our elderly neighbor aunty.
Mom and I were bragging about the sandige (a south Indian fried snack) that we had prepared.

Aunty got excited and offered to teach us aralu sandige - a version of sandige made with puffed rice. It was the same need for sharing what she knew and passing it on to the next generation. I realized at a micro level why some institutions are focusing on grandmothers' wisdom for our own sustainability. For now, I am off to my grandmom's place to finish my lesson on rangoli that I had started a few months back.