DREAM BOY

This story is dedicated to… Rajesh Gaidhani, Akshay Kalpa, G.N.S.Reddy, Santosh Singh & Brothers, Sabita Rajendran and Salius Rego, Sankalp Sharma, Mysore Ananad, Arumugam, Gaura Nikhi Choudhary…. And many more who quit their lucrative corporate jobs and took to farming just to feel the pinch and pain of farmers. These new comers are all now, not mere farmers, but, established themselves as successful farmers. Hence each one is a real proud agriculturist and a role model for his community and his village.

Now the story of a ‘Dream Boy’ for you ---

Shivaprasad was very much disturbed by the news from India-- ‘One more farmer committed suicide’. His father, Shivanarayan advised him to come home on sabbatical and try his bit in India than keep cribbing there at USA. He reminded his son about the childhood story of a small boy throwing back the fish into the sea and saying, though he could not save all fish, his action mattered a lot for that particular fish. Mother was very happy to know that her son would be with her for a longer period. She wanted to make the best use of his presence in India and look for a suitable bride for him.

In his casual talk with his son, Shivanarayan mentioned about late Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastry, who considered two categories of people as most important- those at war field and those at farm field- “Jai Jawan Jai Kisan”. Had he been alive, certainly he would have done something substantial for the farmers. “Seeking his blessings let us start” said his father and they decided to first visit their native place, Shivgiri, to pay obeisance to local deity and meet local heads like Sarpanch or Schoolmaster and also get to know the pulse of rural India. For generations, they had not visited their native place. But, their visit could not be undertaken as planned. Suddenly some urgent task came up and father had to go outstation immediately. He advised Shivaprasad to go on his own. He gave some tips and loaded him with too many ‘do-s and don’ts, first being ‘No suit-boot, no taxi’. He advised his son to meet the local headman first and then through him, approach others in the village. Being an outsider, he necessarily had to be very humble, polite and courteous to all people in the village. He added, “Do not mention you are a foreign-returned, do not show your money power, do not show off your knowledge and certainly do not mention you have come to uplift the farmers. Let things happen naturally and for that to happen first, they need to accept you. Remember. You are an outsider, consider yourself as an social outcast and be ready to do anything to fit in.’ The obedient son took his father’s words as gospel.

Considering each and every day as auspicious as any other, same day, he set out on his mission. He requested the bus conductor to inform him, as soon the nearest stopping to his village was reached. Upon alighting, he enquired at the only petty shop available there, about route to his village. “New to the village? Want to purchase land there? You may have to walk roughly three kilometres, that too on a rugged narrow strip. ‘Very difficult for you to reach your goal’.” Even if pun was not intended, he was determined to go. He said to himself, ‘After all, dream doesn’t come true automatically. It demands firm determination hard work and commitment.’ Finally, he reached the village and met the Sarpanch, Shri Shivashambhu. Sarpanch was really surprised to see a young man coming to his native place with no ulterior motive. He told him to contact his daughter, Rathipriya, for more information about the village, who was acting on his behalf, by maintaining land records and sorting out minor issues of the village.       

When he went in search of her, she was busy with two women, in settling their disputes. Later she gave her judgement in stiff and stern bossy tone. Then she turned to him and said in the same bossy tone.  ‘Hello! Man, if you have come here with any idea of purchasing the land of the drunkard, Shiva- though we call him Shani, just forget that. I will not allow that to happen. If it is anything else, yes! You are welcome.’ He remembered his father’s advice- ‘Be humble, polite’… He just smiled and kept quiet. By then her father came there to tell her that he was their guest and would be staying with them for few days. His grandfather’s grandfather had migrated from the village and this young man of fifth generation, tracing his family roots, took interest to visit his native place. Shivaprasad collected some information about the village. Basically, it was a primitive agrarian village with no infrastructure, no waterbodies, the local temple also not in good shape, some cases of suicides due to heavy debts, year after year people migrating to bigger cities abandoning their land and homes—in a nutshell, anything less spoken was much better. Certainly, very painful. He desperately wanted to do something for his village folks. He straight away asked Shivashambhu—what little he could do to improve the sordid condition of the village. First and the foremost requirement he knew was the approach road that is connectivity. Rathipriya wanted something to be done for Shani’s wife and daughter. He suggested fodder-green grass cultivation, beekeeping and mushroom cultivation were best option for the villagers as these activities required very less capital and were less labour intensive. The famous ‘Bijli-Sadak-paani’ the triple factor, was a major issue with many Indian villages, and it was prevalent in this village also.

After a long debate and discussion, it was decided that the road would be widened at least to the extent of a scooter or a cycle to ply to and fro. All able-bodied men and women joined hands and came up with axes and shovels. They were thrilled and excited when Shivaprasad also stood with them with a shovel and contributed his mite in laying the road. Once this was done, he along with Sarpanch went to the nearest bank to find out availability of loan and various bankable schemes for farmers. The branch officer was least interested and he openly admitted that people were of a strong opinion that any loan availed from bank was a one-way transaction. Both Sarpanch and Shivaprasad argued, discussed, pleaded and finally got him convinced- that too, only after Shivaprasad’s agreeing to stand as guarantor. Rathipriya had already identified five ladies for beekeeping, including the two who quarrelled. Sarpanch, Shivashambhu, had identified ten young men for mushroom cultivation. Responsibility of raising fodder was left to the wife-daughter duo on Shani’s land. Once the basic work was accomplished, Shivaprasad had to do lot of run around…. Like, meet the Khadi and Village Industries Board official for bee boxes and a person for imparting skill. Similar was the case for mushroom activity… meet the concerned officials and put up with their lethargy, fulfil their needs including the paper work… All these were new experiences for him. It was just killing his enthusiasm at every step. He thought “Dreams are perceived easily; but they burst out as bubbles just because of these wanton obstacles.’ So, what! He was determined to stand firm. With renewed vigour, he set out. His dreams and visionaries for the development of his native village included many schemes both with and without loan components…. Some he expressly told the Sarpanch and some to the villagers. Both Shivshambhu and the villagers had seen him as a man of action with assured results. So, they readily accepted his dreams as his commands and put in their efforts. He asked the people to dig a pit in their homes under their domestic drainage wherefrom wash water from their houses flowed, then place an earthen pot and use that particular grey water for their own backyard gardens and surplus water for those cultivating fodder and forest trees. He explained to them about Japanese system- Milwaukee method, by which a dense forest could be created in a small piece of land. He asked Sarpanch to identify a vacant land for one more purpose... community pond. Before onset of monsoon season, he wanted a pond to be dug and kept ready to harvest whatever little rains poured on their village. In his dream, he envisioned the peripherals of the pond were to be covered with sloping roofs such that the rainwater falling on the roof would rush straight into the pond. A pond, filled to the brim would certainly increase the ground water level.

For practical reasons, he advised the farmers to skip water intensive crops like rice, sugarcane and cotton. Instead, he advised them to switch over to coarse grains like millets. He took an oath from everyone that they would not burn the stubble, - residual biomass left on the field after every harvest. It was actually raw material for making briquettes and pellets. Even if nobody came forward for the venture of making such products, at least it could best be used as fodder for cattle or worst come worst it could be used as direct manure for next crop in the same field. Vermiculture was another option he had in mind.

Though people at large were very happy about him and listening to his flowery talks but they were not ready for action. Many of his experiments and some of his attempts did not bear fruit. For instance, Shani objected to his land being used for fodder cultivation, just because water from drainages from all and sundry people in the village was used. When he created ruckus, he was forcibly taken and admitted in a rehabilitation centre. In another case, either the land was not worthy, or the grey water was not suitable, farmer’s entire efforts on raising the crop had failed. In yet another one, in spite of his telling them to avoid chemical fertilizers and insecticides, the farmer’s produce was rejected due to profuse use of banned items.

The dream boy had to learn a lot before he would suggest any measure to the innocent peasants. For getting his dreams fulfilled, he had to perform SWOT analysis…. assess strength, weakness, opportunities and thrusts of his ideas and then only proceed further. Of course, there were also umpteen cases of success and smiles. When tree plantation picked up, people rejoiced. When the blades of grass stood tall and green, people rejoiced. When the bees started humming and multiplied themselves, people rejoiced. When mushrooms sprouted from the seams of their bags, people rejoiced. When it rained, people rejoiced. When the pond was getting filled, people rejoiced. When fingerlings were brought and fisheries was set up, people rejoiced. When a small unit of goats was started, people rejoiced.  

Did anyone hear about a new recipe ‘mushrooms dipped in honey’? It was happening in Shivagiri. Any takers? No. But he did not join them in their rejoicing. He was adamant that until loans were fully repaid, there was no meaning in celebrating any success. If at all, anything that mattered in the village, it was renovation of old dilapidated temple. He told them temples were not mere places of worship. In fact, they were treasure houses of all classical, ethnic and folk arts and a strong force for drawing people to come back to their villages. At least a few people might visit their native place. Hence the need for annual temple festivals was a must and a gathering with lot of fanfares was needed. It was a heritage to be reckoned with pride and honour.

Rathipriya was once praising him for the pains taken for his village. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “It was all nothing, when compared to the contributions of Rajesh Gaidhani or Akshay Kalpa who gave up their urban upscale jobs and came to their villages, only to be identified as peasants and follow their passion.” Shivaprasad did not even complete their story and she said to herself in disbelief.

“Who was telling the story? And whose story was it anyway? 

The words fluttered and flew in the wind.

All that he said, was it not about himself? The names he might have altered. The storyline remained the same. She understood that they --- Rajesh and Akshaya, could be his role models and hence praiseworthy. She, who was stiff and stern with everyone in the village, found herself somewhat tame and tender, while dealing with him. Was it because of his concern for the village? Could it be because her father introduced him as a home-coming-bird? Or, was it because, in a short span of time, he got employment for more than a dozen people? A faint hope still haunted her, “Could he be her ‘Dream Boy’ and that was the reason?” She broke the silence and asked him. ‘You provided employment for many. Why don’t you consider giving me also a job?’ He spontaneously replied, “ Oh! You! You are a big boss… boss of bosses. Only my parents can consider giving one to you.”  

 He left her to her world of dreams, wondering what type of job, would they be offering. As his parents wanted him at home for some domestic help, he took leave from all that he was looking after in the village and left for his house. He told his father all that took place in the village right from the day he landed there till he accomplished upto the previous day. Shivanarayan was very happy that his son’s visit to India was not only purposeful, but also, fruitful. Quoting APJ Abdul Kalaam, he said ‘dreams are not those seen while sleeping, but they are those seen while awake and which drive away your sleep. Keep dreaming such dreams and take positive measures.’

One day, when the doorbell rang, his mother Shivaranjani, went and opened the door. She found an ultramodern girl with pony tail, capri pants, tight T-shirt tucked in, a cowboy belt round the waist and sport shoes. Upon seeing the elderly woman the ultra-modern girl asked. ‘You look so much like Shivaprasad. Are you his mother? He told me, ’you are going to offer me a job.’ Shivaranjani was stunned and before she could say something, Shivanarayan who came there hearing his wife’s having some dialog with a stranger, giggled and called his wife inside. He whispered into her ears, “She is ‘his’ choice. She has come here for brightening the house with her blissful grace--- what you have been wanting and waiting for.” No sooner he said it, she screamed, “What! This scarecrow! For adding grace and bliss in the family, by lighting a blissful holy lamp!” That was enough to spark a row. Rathipriya, in her usual bossy stern and stiff tone replied, “Me! Scarecrow… How you say that to me? Your son a foreign returned fellow, you people are living in ultramodern society and living in urban town! So, I came dressed up in modern outfits which I thought might be befitting your background.” Sensing something amiss, Shivaparasad came down to see what was going on. Looking at Rathipriya in modern, rather western outfit, he too could not contain his mischievous grins. Both father and son had good entertainment while the two ladies were at loggerheads.

The legendary ‘saas-bahu’, mother in law versus daughter in law tug of war had already started even before their relationship was solemnised. Mother-in-law had her set of dreams as to who should be appointed for the post of daughter in law and the village girl, rather would be daughter in law had her set of dreams as to where she needed to be employed. It was not a war of dreamers, only a conflict of dreams. Very soon it would be sorted out.

Dreams are good and let the dreamers behold their dreams… the only condition being that the dreams should be as advised by Kalaam Sir; dreams which do not allow you to sleep.