The Call of the Soil: A Scent of Rice
by Venkat Iyer
Rapid Learn 2-Minute Revision
Perfect for last-minute revision
In this extract from 'Moong over Microchips', Venkat Iyer describes leaving a seventeen-year IT career (with IBM) to become an organic farmer in Peth village, Dahanu. In April 2004 he raises his first moong (green gram) crop on the advice of the broker Moru Dada, firmly refusing to use any chemicals or pesticides, and is thrilled to harvest a respectable 300 kilograms, a major morale booster. The second part, 'The Scent of Rice', traces his determined search for Kasbai, a traditional long-grained aromatic rice that had 'disappeared' after farmers switched to chemical-hungry hybrids. Agricultural officers are unhelpful, but the old ex-sarpanch Devu Handa fondly recalls Kasbai's alluring aroma and strength. After months of searching, Venkat finally finds the seeds with a wrinkled old Adivasi woman in the remote hamlet of Boripada, the 'real people of India' who still guard the land's rich biodiversity.
Detailed Summary
Detailed Summary Video
Video coming soon
'The Call of the Soil: A Scent of Rice' is an extract from Venkat Iyer's book 'Moong over Microchips'. It records his shift from a project manager at IBM to a committed organic farmer in Peth village, and celebrates traditional, chemical-free farming and India's vanishing agricultural biodiversity.
The first crop, organic moong
In April 2004 Venkat stands barefoot at sunrise in his lush green field of moong, exhilarated to be looking at his first crop as a farmer. Though he wanted time to learn farming from books, the broker Moru Dada insists the season is right and gets him to sow moong at once, using seeds bought from Surat in Gujarat.
When tiny green leaves appear, Venkat is thrilled. Moru Dada then wants to spray pesticide for a higher yield, but Venkat firmly refuses all chemicals, which the villagers find almost unthinkable. Yet nature 'needed no bribes to get the work done': he harvests a respectable 300 kilograms of moong, proving the land is fertile and that crops can grow without chemicals, a major morale booster.
The search for Kasbai rice
The next year Venkat decides to grow a traditional variety of rice, which needs fewer fertilizers and resists pests. He learns of Kasbai, a long-grained, mildly aromatic, long-duration rice that the older villagers remember but which has 'disappeared'. The younger farmers, who have all switched to hybrids ('desi' seemed crazy to them), cannot help, and the agricultural officer has never even heard of Kasbai, offering hybrids instead.
At Dhanivari, the old ex-sarpanch Devu Handa reminisces dreamily about Kasbai, how its alluring aroma once filled the whole village and how it stood firm even in the flash floods of the sixties. He explains that irrigation, the lure of a second crop, community pressure (unfenced fields and grazing cattle), and the hybrids' 'insatiable appetite for chemicals' had driven Kasbai out. He directs Venkat to the Adivasis of Asarvari.
The real people of India
Guided by Jeevan, Venkat treks half an hour through thick vegetation, streams and rocks to the sleepy hamlet of Boripada. There, a wrinkled old Adivasi woman turns out to have the elusive Kasbai. Having no weighing scale, she gives the seeds only by the basket; a 100-rupee note finally brings a smile to her face.
Walking back against the fading sunset, Venkat reflects that these remote Adivasis, untouched by 'progress', hybrids, fertilizers or pesticides, are 'the real people of India' who still hold on to the rich biodiversity of the land, and for once he is grateful that the old lady's world remains unspoilt.