45. The Hockey Stick can’t control our lives

It was unnaturally hot for November but the rains had been bad this year. The Baigas were worried as monsoon soon faded. We were worried too. The Sal Forest was showing strange signs of drying up, leaves were dropping off faster than usual. The soon to be harvested rice was standing on hard ground, already cracked in places. Many villages had harvested earlier than usual and the worry in the nearby grain markets was of the falling incomes this year.

The Baigas and Gonds had taken to planting rice aggressively. They traditionally grew rice but in limited quantities. Coarse millet was the preferred crop but the demands from local traders promising a minimum support price for the crop had turned the table on traditional practices. A number of small-time subsistence farmers were experimenting with rice for a few years and were unable to judge the vagaries of this ever-changing weather.

There was another reason why this rice from the Maikal uplands were so much in demand. One of the many research projects, run fanatically by dedicated scientists had concluded that the Baiga rice as it was known as, was fetching high rates in the international market. It appears that the rice had magnesium, potassium, and a host of other minerals, making it the latest super food to adorn the shelves of supermarkets.

This year seems to be a challenge. The ground water has all but vanished and wells are too sparse to cover all the valleys. I mentioned this to Saanvi and she nodded in agreement.

Yes, all in vain. Rice grown to feed this guzzling economy cannot be afforded by the farmer himself. Considerably on the back foot, Baigas who were traditionally hunter gatherers had taken to farming in the recent years. The productivity from these fertile lands was unexpectedly less and another team of researchers found out that most Baiga farmers did not know to raise rice. They were inefficient farmers.

In a bad year, he was forced to sell all his produce and was left with no backup for the rest of the year. This year, it looks dire. An area as large as Goa is withering under harsh winters and yesterday’s clouds notwithstanding, things look positively gloomy now.

I nodded, Serving the global beast that is the GDP, what say. Yes, I agree, it is another version of feeding the beast. The beast who shall not rest. He grows bigger and bigger each year and tears ever increasing scars on the land.

They have suffered since the beginning. First, it was the British who took over much of the highlands for their timber needs, then it the denial of rights of access, then the traders moved in, setting shop n remote villages. Their knowledge of the forests disregarded, their medicinal plants not accessible any longer, they are left to these small parcels where they eke out an existence. Most people see the Baigas and Gonds living in the fertile valleys growing rice. But virtually every Baiga I know farms in the highlands and there, it is nothing but millets. This year, millets also failed.

The Baiga says that it is nature’s reaction to all this scrapping, cutting, restitching and exploiting her. 300 years of continuous digging has left the earth existentially unstable. He says that we have committed our greatest crime, worse than any genocide perpetuated on a global scale. This stripping away of nature has been the hallmark of almost all countries and now, it is payback time.

I was listening quietly as two Baigas walked past our car in a busy Raipur market, their elegant pouches now hopelessly out of fashion, their hair completely wild and unkempt and their half jackets definitely frayed at the edges.

She got down, spoke to them for a few minutes and pointed out a building across the road. We will pick them on our way back, lets hurry, she muttered jumping in.

Our purchase over and the two Baigas safely seated, I got down in the Raipur railway station. Watching Saanvi fade in the distance, with barely a bye, I could see her looking at the forests in the distance, beyond the dim-witted red ball that the sun had turned into this city scape.

And the Hockey stick, you know. The Hockey stick. Yes, the hockey stick. We should all be taught about it in school. This hockey stick will be the end of us.