Although pongamia is a hardy tree it is best to back your chances of good yields, with some care. If the soil were rich, there need hardly be any preparation. But in a sandy geography like Nainar Kuppam's, one must provision the pits to serve the young saplings.
We planned to dig pits of 1.5'x1.5'x1.5'. The first pit was dug significantly by Anu Bakshi on July 15, during her visit to Chennai.[- significant, because, her funds-strapped school for poor children, Project Why had raised Rs.70,000 to donate a boat as tsunami relief.] Sabita an active suporter of gniF, lent a helping hand as well.
In order to retain moisture we were advised by Professor Ismail, to spread a layer of coconut husk at the bottom. [Read a light-hearted report on how we got them at the end of this post]. Turns out the husk is not free for picking up. There is value for every resource in India: coconut husk powers a vast coir rope industry and its by-product, the dust, is composted.
Over the layer of husks, go a mixture of red earth, farm yard manure [mostly rotted cow dung] and some powdery local soil. Being a fishing village we also found a lot of fish meal and sea food laden kitchen waste lying in heaps. This was mixed in too.
Professor Shrinivasa had insisted that we add 2kg of pongamia oil cake per pit. This had to be procured from Gudiyatham, about 200 km away. There is an established pongamia oil industry there based on naturally existing trees. The cake doesn't come cheap: Rs.6.50 per kg. That is a good indication of the money that will accrue to the village when it has its own cake to sell.
The Professor explained the logic quite simply: "The root length of a plant is about one third its height. So one must vigorously encourage root system development so that they go out and gather moisture and food. Till then they must be provisioned with food and water. The pongamia's produce -oil seed- is not water-laden and so it does not require too much water. But it does require organic matter that can be converted into oil seed."
Since Nainar Kuppam, a sandy fishing hamlet, must succeed in order to inspire other fishing communities, gniF has cared for every detail before planting begins.
Following is the free-wheeling report made by D V Sridharan of his adventures with two senior fishermen, in search of a lorry load of coconut husks:
prof Ismail on june26, mentioned in his address, that it'd be a good idea to put a layer of coconut husks at the bottom of the pit, when we plant pongamia on the open sea front. it soaks up water like a sponge and slowly releases and degrades over the years, laying down its frame having served, to be assimilated by the soil.
the list of inputs per plant was growing. profShrinivasa had suggested 2kg per pit, of pongamia oil cake and we had the assurance of the villagers that each household will give a basket each of fish and kitchen waste. then we need red earth and manure in great quantity. that's big list to gather before the august deadline when its ripe for planting.
the first target is 2000 trees, see! that's just in the public places. then about 500 around homesteads. so we needed close to a truck load of husks. and where does one get it!
"koovathur", chorused everyone. mano in my village and doraikannu ['darling lord', in tamil, 'dk' in short] of nainar kuppam [nk] was the loudest. i have known dk on and off over the last 15 years. he's a sturdy, short, cheerful guy of 64 with the gait of a seamen on a rolling ship. gunasekaran ['pinnacle of virtues'] is about 10 years younger and dk's loyal mate. a tall, puppy dog of a man; a doer with gray moustache and thatch.
today was the day assigned to fetch a truck load. of the three villages i have been interacting with - kkk, rk and nk- nk has the nearly eerie habit of being punctual most of the time. i am constantly amazed.
anyhow this morning they displayed it again! dk and guna arrive at 10,05! dk was sporting his shiny new metal framed spects - quite stylish like an aviator's- that he wears on special occasions. guna wore a dhoti with a discreet brocade edge. off we went in my car, on the silky ecr to koovathur. hey, slogging can be jolly.
on a sudden run along the highway's edge, we espy pongamias in a row. i stopped. guna said he had seen many but none of them had pods. it is true,often. the highways dept plants them for their evergreen shade. they don't handpick yielders. the first tree we saw was clearly 6 or 7 years old- not a single pod! guna held his tongue and dk, once certainly a cherubim, froze his emerging smile. i kept muttering without conviction, in the belief i owed the world an explanation. we keep moving and examining. the third had one tiny pod, which i gleefully pointed. and then suddenly darling dk had folded his dhoti above his knee and raced to the fourth! it was so loaded with pods that we could barely see the leaves. guna was born again and dk was whopeeing, it was my cue to lecture on picking the saplings right, and i droned on, to admiring nods acknowledging my erudition.
the mission for husks gained an edge. dk sat at the edge of seat like snoopy in his camel-sopwith. i stepped on gas.
kovathur! not a soul about. dk steps out and scans the desolate landscape! comes back and says we can get just 200 husks in the place. he's brave but clearly forlorn. i don't care. i am enjoying the empty spaces. who says india is over-populated? where are the people? i am slipping into a time shift.
we come to a coconut water stand. two young men point to a hillock of green carcasses we can take away for free. guna shakes his head. wont do. we need dry ones, hungry for water. press on they said, to panaiyur kuppam, another 5k. there we are told to find kali, the husk king. his shop is locked, just a few husks on the ground in front. he had cleared his stocks to a coir factory in marakkanam.
we were chasing red herrings. dk's spirit is taking a knocking. guna the wise, is discreet. even i am on good behaviour. it must be the placid, silent, peaceful spaces. then along comes a wiry guy and dk button-holes him. the guy points to a most seductive lane lined by massive cashew trees.
'go find razak saibu. he has a pile' so down that paradise and right again to an even greater one. even allah could not have conjured it. r-s is a caricature of a pious muslim- clearly a dalit reborn a muslim in this heaven of allah; he looked the part. the lungi tied askew, a fez on his head and a mountain goat's beard. we stood in his grove. nearly dark at noon.
he has piles of husks exceeding skulls collected by the khmer rouge. dk, guna and i restrain our elation. we need to be casual so that r-s doesn't drive the price up. he quotes rs.1,500 for 10,000 nuts' worth. i can't believe it. we buyers stare at each other. i want to protest and want to offer rs.2000. but i hold my tongue.
'go get a truck and men to load it, ' says discreetly trying catch up with the tamil serial playing on tv and softly ending the conversation.
so back to the real world on the ecr. we are directed to kadambadi, 5k away. it's small town believing it's a metro. a couple of dudes with fancy glasses and ear-rings leaning against bikes. one guy in a dhoti with defiance in his cigarette. a smarty listens to our needs and without a word presses his cell phone. he leaves the built in speaker on to let us hear it's ringing and keeps staring into the distance. soon, another number. a serious conversation ensues. this could be war and he a general! he switches off: "sorry, i don't know when my lorry will return. it's in ranipet," with some primness.
"ah, you are a one-lorry town with fancy airs," i want to scream!
dk is quite brusque. let's go to marakkanam, he says firmly. guna murmurs agreement. they get in wait impatiently for me to start so we can leave this pathetic town behind.
marakkanam is midpoint to pondy, a garrison town in the colonial times. full of boatyards and slick businessmen. the bazaar crawls with deal makers. and yes, there are lorries here! but alas also sharpies in the 'lorry service' office where they have sized us up as guys who won't back off from any thing they can throw. it's all so malgudi. they are all talking slow, off hand and we three are hanging in there.
rs.2700 for the lorry and rs.1000 for men to load. i want to leave. guna agrees. dk wants to bargain. guna agrees. no one wants to let go but find the middle ground. and find we do after presenting our respective cases. price of diesel, cost of spares, lack of lorries etc on their part. the tsunami, coastal shield, non-profit mode, on our part. everything is heard with respect. we know we need each other.
we have a deal! rs.2500 for the lorry and rs.600 for the gang. i am aghast but have worked out it's under rs.2 per tree.
we agree that everyone must have lunch and meet gain. we are friends now. we ask for restaurant recommendations.
'om shakti hotel' in the bazaar is slightly daunting with vigorous men slurping away in a small narrow space. i buy 'tokens' for three meals, rs.54 in all with curd. guna protests that curds are unnecessary. dk is thrilled.
and what a 'meals' it was! i have rarely eaten such variety and subtly cooked stuff on a banana leaf. half way through i regret having parted with half my rice quota to dk. too late, now. he's wolfing into it now.
we stagger into the street after the lunch and the motley loading crew waits for us in eagerness. they know they have screwed us in the deal making and are oozing charm!
back 15km to razak bhai's paradise. on the way at kadambadi dk throws a contemptuous sneer at a town with one truck and much airs.
at the razak paradise he finds two woven mats and spreads himself to process the lunch. the driver seats himself under the trees to cook the trip reports with a calculator. saibu looks out, nods and returns to the tv serial.
the gang of 5 works with fury. i see indian energy at work. in a while with sweat glistening on their wiry frames in that cool grove, i suddenly know rs.120 each is not a great wage for their labours.
they work steadily for two hours. it's all done neatly. the cleaner come along and spreads a tarp and ties it down neatly. i throw in an extra rs.30 for tea for the boys and they are slightly startled at the bonus and thank me cheerfully.
the lorry rolls out. razak bhai is thrilled at the social work i was doing. he had saved that compliment for until after the cash had been paid. but never mind. he assures me i was buying the best husk there is.
we are heading home with the loot! dk in the back seat has slumped with elan and is humming a tune, softly , happily. guna, in a rare lapse of propriety is humming too.
at kalpakkam we have tea. a few km later we espy the loaded truck. dk and guna exchange dark suspicions: "is the driver drinking?" they leap out and return, not certain. all that guna will say was that the driver had lit up a cigarette! i was to decide for myself based on that evidence, whether any drinking was underway.
at 6.30 we enter nainar kuppam, which is a bit of ruritania really! a small throng had followed our adventures through the day courtesy, the mobile marvel. but the truck had not arrived. we hang around. theories are building up but everyone is holding back with tight smiles.
it's 6.50. hey, there's the loaded truck. it looks far too large and monstrous for that simple hamlet. the driver is viewed with awe reserved usually for a trans-ocean boatman. he enjoys it and indulges everyone wanting to give reversing, manoeuvring instruction. the tarp is removed and a score of young men leap on it with paddles to shove the pile down. children stand around excited. a couple of rare fishwives put in a walk-through.
one guy comes along, his face split into two by rows of flashing teeth: "you move fast, saar!"
that's my trophy.
i manage the moment in silence.i could have ruined it; i nearly wanted to say, '"you ain't seen nothin' yet"