In the abode of lovely nature

There is a gentle breeze that blows ever so often from the Kunda Betta and the old trees sway gently, as if in sheer delight

I retired from police service six months ago, after serving for nearly 38 years. With the happy realisation of having become my own master after half a lifetime, I decided to get into farming in Kodagu. Right now, I am planting coffee, pepper, areca nut, banana, avocado, forest trees and so on with an almost maniacal frenzy. I am even in the process of acquiring rhododendron saplings from the Himalayas to be planted around an irrigation pond.

In the process, my respect for the Indian farmer has gone up many notches. The adversities he has to battle are profound. He has to cope with the vagaries of the weather, pest infestation, labour shortage, high input costs, market fluctuations, crop-raiding animals and so much more. But there is something to working the land: it is primordial, perhaps a throwback to our evolutionary imprint and hence, deeply satisfying. Also nature seems to conspire in mysterious ways to reward your good intentions.

My main worry are two herds of crop-raiding elephants. Their depredations are regular and they destroy more than what they eat. I am perhaps the most persistent caller for the services of the local Elephant Task Force. There is a certain edge to the voice of the ETF commander when I call him nowadays, but he sends his team nevertheless, and its staff gallantly chase away the herds. But the elephants promptly return in a couple of days.

Marauding elephants have become a serious threat to life and property in my part of the world. There seems to be no durable solutions in sight. So, I asked the young man in charge of the ETF, “Why don’t you tranquillise the matriarch and a few herd members and tie big brass bells on their necks with steel chains? That way, people will be forewarned of their presence and can take precautionary measures.” To my surprise, he did not dismiss my idea as too outlandish, and said he would take up the matter with the government.

But having worked in the government for long years, with a lazy eye, I could clearly visualise that such a proposal is unlikely to go through.

When not running the gauntlet of recalcitrant elephants or crop infestation, I keep a keen eye on the happenings in the village. It is a lovely place in the heart of Western Ghats, the northern boundary marked by a hillock, Kunda Betta, and the southern by a perennial river, Kuthnad Pole. The latter is taken to mood swings and right now, she is foaming and frothing. As I wake up every morning, I am greeted by birdsong. Then there is a gentle breeze that blows ever so often from the Kunda Betta and the old trees sway gently, as if in delight. Sometimes, the breeze carries the scent of wild flowers and the heartstrings ache, bemoaning the loss of youth.

The houses in the village are few and far in between and people live harmoniously. This affords the privacy of a city and the affection of a village, which is pleasing. But there are some dark clouds too; extreme weather events for one.

Retirement affords one the luxury of limitless time to dream; during the day as well as at night! My frequent dream is about all my saplings flouting the laws of nature by growing overnight and giving bountiful yields. I also dream often about the elephants; they now enter the property gently, raise their trunks as if in salute when they see me and quietly melt away when I say ‘dismissed’! We have entered into a secret “no destruction” pact! Then, I also dream about the yet to arrive rhododendron saplings! New species in alien environment perish quickly or sometimes become invasive. My dream is about Rhododendron turning invasive! I imagine myself, years from now, awaiting my final days in a sea of rhododendron with gorgeous blooms in multiple hues! How gloriously morbid!

(The writer is a former Director-General of the NSG)

pavana17@yahoo.co.in

Published - October 13, 2024 02:58 am IST