What Floats And Slithers

On a morning last week, when I got to the farm, Arul took me to the underground sump tank and invited me to look inside. As I peered through square opening of the tank I could see a slim snake in the water with its head sticking above water. It seemed to have been there all night and dining on the little frogs in the tank.  It obviously couldn’t climb out of the tank since the water level was too low.

Arul is a friend who sometimes stays on our neighbour’s farm. Knowing Abhi’s interest in snakes, he insisted that I call Abhi to come and take a look at the floating creature. When I came home and broke the news, both Abhi and Aparna couldn’t wait to get to the farm. They shoved the last bits of breakfast into their mouths and packed a snake hook (made by Abhi, a simple blunt hook attached to the end of a three foot bamboo stick) and a camera.

We rushed back to the farm and got to business right away. Abhi said, “It is one of the Big Fours, one of the most venomous snakes in India – the common Krait”. He later added, “It has white bands on its black body and the head doesn’t have bands. It can swim, so it is safe here. It seems to like the place since it is cool and provides food. It is nocturnal and so wouldn’t want to leave this place now.” Aparna nodded approvingly.

We had rice transplanting happening at the farm that day. There were labourers at work. We decided not to talk about the snake since they would immediately want to kill it. We decided to leave the snake undisturbed in the water since it was not posing an immediate threat to us. We also agreed on attending to it once the workers left. A couple of times during the day I spotted the kids visiting the tank to take to look at the Krait. I was staying alert all the while to make sure they knew their limits.

After the workers left and as the day started cooling down a bit, Arul, Abhi and Dev decided to do the rescue. (Aparna meanwhile was talking with Dev to ensure that Abhi wasn’t going to be allowed to take any serious risks.) Their initial ideas of using a sack with long sticks and of using a bucket got ruled out for safety reasons. Both the sack and the bucket at hand were not deep enough to contain the snake. But perhaps a water barrel might do the trick. So while Aparna and I stood watching, the three got to work.

Using a rope Arul lowered a 200 litre plastic barrel into the water. He got it to float horizontally with its open mouth approaching the snake. Just at this moment Arul decided that it would help to fill the barrel with a little water. As he was letting some water into the barrel, he asked Abhi to goad the snake into the barrel. The Krait was comfortably coiled around a ledge when Abhi nudged it with the snake-hook. Meanwhile a lot of water was entering the barrel and while Arul was trying to empty it, the barrel started to spin slowly and it got difficult to manage. I suddenly heard Abhi cry out, “IT IS CLIMBING!”

The next thing I saw was the Krait lying on the ground, about two meters from us. The frozen snake  took several seconds to find its bearing before slithering into a nearby Calotropis bush. I later came to know what had actually happened.

Because Abhi thought the snake was attempting to climb the snake-hook, he panicked and instead of letting go of the stick, he drew it out of the tank. So the snake-hook, with the snake attached, was flung up and to the side, while Abhi ran in the opposite direction. Thankfully, the arc of the serpent’s flight managed to avoid Arul who was right alongside ministering the barrel. 

On retrospection we realized that it was a bad idea to try to fill the barrel and to have had too short a pole attached to the snake-hook. 

-- Hema

The Road To Our Farm

After looking for land for several months, we ended up buying five acres in Athimanjeri, TN in 2013. This land didn’t have an easy access and we were not particularly bothered by it. The neighbour on the North had introduced us to this place and we were to go through their farm to get to ours. Soon after the purchase, we rented a house in the nearby village and started bicycling to our land through this neighbouring land. This was quite a fun ride for the children too. But then, in a few months, this neighbour instructed us to not enter their premises. We were quite puzzled and felt stranded in this new place.

Our land has creeks on three sides. These creeks are now dried up for the most part of the year; they flow after heavy rains. So, the other option was to walk in the creek for twenty minutes and reach our land. I wanted to explore this route. But just as soon as I stepped into the creek, the buzz of flies and a waft of unpleasant odour greeted me into the pooping zone, which happened to be the first hundred meters or so. Open defecation is not a problem by itself; but leaving the excreta exposed definitely is. I felt like throwing up. Disappointment, sadness, betrayal and anguish were raging inside me. 

Due to this upheaval, I went through several emotional phases during the following months. Being in denial, I just couldn’t come to terms with the reality. But then, I really wanted to get to the farm and work there every day. What was I to do? 

I started thinking deeply about human waste and the problems it poses. My readings on this subject helped me understand the history of the flush toilets as we know them today. So, clearly these local people do not pollute the oceans; they do not spend exorbitant amount energy that is needed by the sewage treatment plants; they do not waste water. Of course, they have increased their exposure to pathogens by leaving the poop open. To quote Joseph Jenkins from “The humanure handbook”:

“The world is divided into two categories of people: those who shit in their drinking water supplies and those who don’t. “

In the mornings, with this new found understanding, I equipped myself mentally before the arduous walk. I remember restraining my vision strictly to the next step and reminding myself to not look on the sides or anywhere else. This got me across on some days. On other days I sang loudly just so I didn’t catch anyone in action and also attempted to be cheerful. Sometimes I reminded myself that this was not so bad as I was perceiving it to be and that it was a mind game after all. This worked too.

Once I crossed this initial stretch, the place was clean and beautiful  – a creek with big boulders, tall trees lining the banks, lots of birds chirping, sunlight getting filtered though the canopy. “How can humans pollute this beautiful place? How did this level of disconnect come into existence? Do I have to go through this every day?” As these thoughts crept in, I used to burst into tears. Thankfully, the farm work healed me once I got there. But, the way back was again an ordeal. I was almost always irritable after getting home and Dev was usually my target. He began to see a pattern behind this and once asked me, “Hema, was there too much poop on the way today?” Somehow, poop didn’t bother him. The kids’ attitude was mostly a reflection of mine. Thus it was quite imperative that I mended my ways. I started meditating on this. Slowly I could walk the pooping zone without much agitation, but wanted to avoid it if I could.

About the same time, I started collecting data as to how we can obtain access and learned to study the field measurement maps. The maps showed us that our neighbour on the South had encroached into the Government land that could potentially be our access point. To understand this better, I decided to bicycle this alternate route along the hillside. Since this neighbour had blocked this access point, I had to ride up further and make a circuitous entry into our land. This was about three km bicycle ride one way, partly on a dirt road going uphill. At this point, we didn’t own a motorised vehicle. We were experimenting life without one for more than three years.

I preferred the strenuous bicycle ride to walking through the pooping zone. I was looking forward to mornings. The road passed through a small village. The rangolis infront of the houses, kids playing outside, cows, chicken, goats and everything I saw on the way lifted my spirit.

In our battle to gain access, we decided against bribes and using contacts/influences. So my next one year went in meeting various Government Officers, waiting long in lines, seeing our petition move from one table to another without much happen at the ground level, maintaining a paper trail of all the meeting minutes and sending those to all the Officers involved, writing thank you letters for any little progress that was made, responding to a false law suit filed by the encroaching neighbour and facing the threats of this neighbour.

I gained insight into Governmental operations. I learned that speaking and writing in English earned their respect. I also learned that the Officers had no real incentive to offer a viable solution to any petitioner. The Officers didn’t want to create a precedent, so they would rather not act.

Around this time, Dev suffered a tendon injury in his heel which lasted several months. There was an overwhelming amount of work that needed my time and attention. So we decided to simplify things for me and bought a moped.

It was almost a year of chasing the Government machinery. Since things simply didn’t work, we decided to make use of our friends’ connections. We were put in touch with one of the topmost, state level Officers. He saw the legal bearing that our access petition had and made sure that our case was resolved. It was like magic.

Finally after more than two years, we can now reach our land easily. It was sad for me to see this neighbour yield to power and not respect or humanity that we showed him earlier. He recently invited us home for lunch, withdrew the law suit and claimed to be our friend!

-- Hema

Benign Customs Or Outrageous Violence

I was invited to the coming-of-age ceremony of a thirteen year old girl in the neighbourhood. These ceremonies have made me queasy while growing up. But as it is mostly obligatory in the village to show up at such social occasions, I decided to go. I didn’t know what exactly this occasion would entail since each community and caste has different customs.

This was an old ancestral house. The old-style houses are wall-to-wall, narrow and long with pitched and tiled roofs. The weavers’ lifestyle and machines have determined the layout of these houses. Each house has a sheltered sitting area facing the street. Behind the sitting area are rooms on either side of a corridor that opens into a courtyard. Beyond the courtyard are the kitchen and a large space for the looms. 

When I entered the house I noticed that this was a married-women-only party. After a short while, at the auspicious hour, the girl was asked to sit in the centre of the courtyard. There was a worried, nervous look on her face. Just as she was about to sit down a few women asked her to get rid of her clothes. The girl clearly didn’t like this and tried hard to negotiate her way out. She finally gave up and sat down unhappily in her underwear. She had thick, long hair that she used to cover her front.

A barrel containing warm water infused with jasmine flowers and turmeric was kept ready. The grandma of the girl dipped a mug into the barrel and poured it on her head and inaugurated the ceremony. Opinion was divided among the women if girls these days were as obedient as they once were. Some women obviously didn’t like the fact that she wasn’t in the nude. Slowly the rest of women started lining up to pour more water on her.

Suddenly a young lady, authoritative and aggressive, started undressing the girl further. She protested, crying and begging but to no avail. Her protestations were regarded mostly with much hilarity and the undressing took place without further ado. Now desperately trying to hide her modesty, the girl changed her position to a squat. As if to intensify the effect, another woman jumped into the scene and tied up the girl’s hair, exposing her further. The ritual bathing continued and they applied turmeric powder on her. By this time I had had enough and decided to step away into the kitchen to help out with serving food to the guests.

I asked a lady why the girl had to be naked. She said that that was how they had always done it. A few minutes later when I took a peek into the courtyard, the girl was all clad in a beautiful pink silk saree. Her relatives were helping her with gold jewellery. I served tea and snacks and left as soon as I could with a heavy heart.

-- Hema

Unacknowledged Privileges

It was a very hot afternoon (34 deg C) and it was not even Summer yet. One of our labourers’ daughter, Kausalya (20), was going to see an OBGYN doctor. She was expecting her second baby any day and a junior doctor had got her worried in the morning by saying that there was “too much water in the sac”. When I came to know about the absurdity of this remark, I decided to go with her to see the OBGYN.

The nearby Government Hospital was situated in a brand new building. The waiting room had over thirty people when we got there. There were two ceiling fans spinning at full speed. The moment I stepped into that area, I felt hotter than when I was outside. That was bizarre. I looked around to find four glass windows, spanning 5’, all tightly shut. I rushed there, struggled a bit (since they were not the usual kind) and opened all the windows. There was a sudden perceptible drop in the temperature inside and I noticed people turning their heads toward the windows. I just couldn’t believe that it didn’t occur to even one of those waiting women to open the windows earlier.

Later when I came home and shared this with Dev, he surprised me with his insight: “Hema! You are not acknowledging your privileges that have enabled you to open those windows.” That got me thinking. 

Going back to the waiting room:

As I was waiting, I couldn’t help but watch a young girl who seemed to be ready to deliver any minute. She certainly was very poor, malnourished and nervous about being there. I was getting curious to know more about her and so approached her:

I: “My name is Hema. What’s your name?”

She: “Kanniamma” (means ‘virgin lady’)

I: “How old are you?”

She: “15”

I: “You are very young! What’s your due date?”

She: “April 4^th”

I: “When did you get married?”

She: “Two days ago”

I: “Really? Just two days ago??”

She: “No! Two years ago”

I realized at this point that I had got her nervous. So to ease her into further conversation, I started telling her about myself – my age, my family, my kids, my natural childbirth experience etc. I could see that she was getting a wee bit comfortable talking to me. I decided to grab the opportunity and asked her, “Kanniamma! Can you ask the doctor how you can postpone having your second baby?”

Her perplexed look told me that there were so many things fundamentally wrong with my question. May be, babies were Godsend in her village! And even if they were not, how can SHE, an illiterate poor kid, pose a question to the DOCTOR!!

Most of the women waiting there for their second deliveries had a 12-18 month older toddler. During the half hour wait, I saw that these little toddlers were constantly getting yelled at, spanked and mistreated by the exhausted pregnant moms. So I didn’t want to give up. I wanted to try again and talk to Kanniamma about why she should not have another baby right away. I went very slow and kept it interactive. Once I thought that she had got it, I tried role play. I asked her to consider me as the doctor and requested her to ask me that question (about the second pregnancy). She just froze there and couldn’t say a word.

I didn’t have enough time to pursue this conversation because I had to accompany the girl I came with. I know that she would not have asked the doctor that important question and also that she is very likely to visit the same office soon for her second one.

-- Hema

Organized team work or just fun?

The recent cyclonic rains brought a lot of sand into local creeks from the surrounding hills. As soon as the rains stop, local people line up to “steal” this sand to use for their own construction purposes or sell it, illegally of course. Our landlord jumped into the fray and had a load of sand hauled last week, and got it piled up in front of the house. He had brought a sieve too. A day later his daughter L got interested in the sieve and started scooping the sand and sifting it, all on her own. She worked, with tremendous focus, for several hours.  Mind you this is heavy work.

She is 13, a rich village girl, who goes to an English medium private school.  Usually most of her time is spent at school or tuition classes. Thus I have never seen her “doing” anything in the last two years that we have been here.  

Thanks to the rains, the schools have been closed for a month now.  While L was at work, the other kids at first just hung around and then slowly started joining her one by one until all six were busy. They have been working together for a day now. As I was observing this from my upstairs balcony, these were the words that came to my mind – harmonious, productive, efficient, self-organizing, co-operative and seamless.

Their assembly-line operation had the following steps:

• Spread the wet sand on the road because dry sand can be sifted more efficiently. Make sure there is a constant supply of dry sand for pick up.
• Scoop the dried sand with a hoe and dump it into a receptacle
• Dump the contents of the receptacle onto the sieve. Maximize the sieving efficiency by constantly bringing the non-sieved portion to the top of the inclined sieve with a curved broken tile 
• Collect the sieved sand and dump into separate pile

I got to hear some snippets of their conversations:

•  “It will be difficult for them to work without us. We need to get back soon” (during their lunch break)
• “We can’t afford to take long breaks. We have a lot of work to do.”
• “It is 2 p.m. now. Can we stop at 6? What do you think?”
• “Hey, you take up my job now. I will do yours for some time”

They were working independently and also as a team, rotating their jobs, maximizing efficiency, minimizing wastage, planning the next stage, getting good exercise and most important of all having fun. 

Now to contrast this with what I have typically seen here, when the schools are in session:

School lasts for approximately 7 hours, mostly six days a week. Most of the kids have a one hour before-school tuition and one hour after-school tuition class. Evenings are devoted to homework and a bit of TV. Sometimes, on Sundays, the six kids in our street get together to play. Mostly their games would end abruptly, in an unpleasant manner. The reasons being  -- lying, bickering, cheating and hitting.  It was as if they needed more time and continuity to be able to even play amicably.

Had I not seen what happened today, I would have never believed that this set of kids could work together. If our society can offer children the luxury of time, won’t there be more opportunities for them to do meaningful work, participate in and contribute to what is happening around them?

-- Hema