Nurungukal…2…contd…

        In the late 1980s the idea to quit my job in Central Warehousing Corporation started building up in me. The farmer in me was forcing me to take the reign of management of the small coffee estate which my wife had inherited from her ancestral property. More over agriculture was in my blood ever since childhood. My father maintained a homestead farm. Entire family used to get involved in activities such as transplantation, harvesting even in pounding of rice in the back veranda along with over servant girls. There was a native cow whom my mother lovingly called Chinnu, which hardly produced 5 glass of milk. Now I maintain one yielding twenty litres !!. But the quality of milk differ very much . My cow is only a milk producing machine were as chinnu was another member of our family, so dear and pampered. It was a sight to watch her grazing in our compound as her calf struggling from behind to suck the tits and dodging to avoid her mother’s kicks.

       We children had no foot wear. In fact I bought one for the first time when I was reading for my bachelor degree!!. Perhaps that gave us an opportunity to be in touch with mother earth and a feeling of love towards nature. Similarly we children roamed in batches from field to field to collect flowers for decorating the courtyard during Onam celebrations. It gave us ample chance to get in dialogue with nature. Butterflies, birds and even snakes befriended us. Many of us took pleasure in imitating the call of different birds, especially that of kuyil.

        I thought when I settle down in Wayanad I may get back  at least a part of my old days. Yes in 1990 Wayanad was a heaven to live. The small house was surrounded with a stretch of paddy field contoured with coffee gardens. Come monsoon the Tigrina frogs used to crock loudly behind my house and during dusk the chorus of a pack of fox reminded me the child hood days. A swarm of glow worms illuminated the Tamarind tree. The flight of large colonies of wasps migrating from one place to another, making a sound  similar to that of propeller of a plane  was very common then. Now after 45 years, I yearn to experience them one again  and keep my eyes and ears sharp but in vain. Instead the sounds of speeding tillers and JCBs from a nearby quarry disturbs me.The marshy lands, paddy fields and even hillocks have disappeared which reminds me a line…” old order changeth yielding place to new….” This year  the mercury has touched unexpected heights scorching, blistering the earth and our hearts. We have seen a few birds here which used to frequent only desert areas leaving us to sit finger crossed hopping for a sustainable development concept. Let our curriculum be more nature friendly, because only the next generation can retrieve the earth………