The story of an anonymous farmer

He was carrying nothing with him but I felt he had lot of burden in his heart. He seemed so tired but there was a sharp intensity in his gleaming eyes. He was sitting beside me in the bus. It was a long journey and I started to chat with him to kill the time. I never knew this chat would turn my life to the whole.

“I hated to live in exile. Just want to show everyone in my village that I am alive, though they have abandoned me. But have left my happiness in the verandah of my village, before I left them. Sending a person in exile is an unjust justice. I want to tell them my story that happened after I was thrown out.” He said. There was a smile of content in his eyes and a line of pain in his throat.

“So, were you successful in leading your life after thrown out of your habitat? How did you manage things? I can understand how painful it would have been to be driven out of the place you were born.” I patted him on his shoulder with empathy. He seemed to be a bit relieved.

“The fire which broke inside, in rage for my punishment gave me a temporary strength to flee away very far from the village, into grand city buzzes. But once I reached there, it was a chain of incidents that happened and my travel from one city to another in search of livelihood tore me to parts.”

“Oh! So sad! But don’t you see that people do migrate to cities in search of livelihood and many times they settle down there? You too might have done the same.” I was curious to know if he too adjusted to the city life like all other migratory.

He sighed in distress. “No! I could find no light of hope to gain a livelihood. I felt like losing my breathe.”

“It was as if the sky closed on me and I was dumped into darkness. It was as if all the planets and constellations were angry with me and cursed me. I didn’t want to go anywhere. True! I have done something wrong. But this was unjust! I thought.” He leaned back on the seat and raised his hands to unite them to break the knuckles of the fingers. They sounded as if he was breaking his deep emotions.

“I was hit by an array of sparkles before my eyes suddenly when a flock of robbers attacked me on a mid night, when I was sleeping on railway platform. They beat me to bruises and robbed my money, the gold I had on me and the bags I carried. I lay on the platform without any one’s care for the whole day.”

I was sad again. “Oh! This is so grime. Were you much hurt? “I asked with same sympathy. He shifted in the seat in a bit of discomfort.

“People never bothered to take me to hospital. They might have thought I was drunk. It took me 3 days to regain energy to stand and walk. I had nothing in my hand after that incident. A job was what I needed urgently to feed myself from stomach wrenching hunger. I was a literate but not enough educated to gain a job in the city. So, I started searching for a work as a laborer.”

Destiny of a farmer’s son who gave food to the world…..alas!!! What a tragedy! The bus was going. We entered a bus complex of some place after few minutes. It was mid afternoon by now and the driver asked the passengers to have lunch in the canteen of the bus station.

“Shall we have lunch?” I asked him. He nodded his head. While having lunch, I could see him observe the people and their deeds. Suddenly he pointed towards an old beggar sitting at the door of the canteen having left over food of a traveler in a cover so passionately as if he was hungry for years. “I starved for food the same way.” He said. He went to the beggar and gave his food too, came back and ordered for lassi.

“City was a hub of rush and hush! I was an absolute fool and a nothing amidst all those educated brats. I went in pitching for a laborer job but was denied in many places. Finally got it in a factory as a day wage laborer. I came to know in no time that all the laborers are stolen of their rights and maximum exploited. There were hidden agenda’s of the management which lured them for bonus but the labor leaders were too diplomatic than the management to rob both laborers and the management.” He continued….till I stopped him for a while.

“I know all this but what can anyone do against this circumstance? Few of our farmers shifted to city factories as workers when the village left us hit rock bottom by a famine or flood. They had no other alternative to survive and get their families fed a meal a day. Circumstances never give you chance to stand staunch on your confidence to win a livelihood in now a day village atmosphere. Do you know about the land lords and their tactics to snatch your hard earned piece of land through give something and snatch much of their thing malice? There are no sufficient rains, no water resources, not enough power too….the pesticides cost you much. Though we strive hard to raise a crop, the government or the market never pays the right price. Lot of troubles mounted up as dark clouds on the cultivation. Hard days…hard lives…”

“You are right. But there should be a way out for these problems. Think for a while….if every farmer shows his back to cultivation, runs into the wilderness of cities, who will grow crops? Who will feed the nation? Factories and labour work can’t feed the citizens. We need food to live. “

I was thrown into thinking. He was showing the world without agriculture and farmers. He was showing a dead end of the world where only rupee notes and chemical energies floating above the human life. I was deadened. I was cold as ice when such a world screened on my imagination.

“You are right. Tell me…how you got on with the days after the job.” I insisted. Now I wanted to know more about his life and what he did.

“I couldn’t adjust to the atmosphere and left. Then the second job was a helper in a rice mill in another city. I was astonished on how the rice and other pulses were being adulterated. The food which gives life was adulterated…..there was no exception for any material…everything got a matter equivalent to the material to be adulterated. I remembered the rice we had from our field and the pulses we enjoyed so pure and healthy. The fruits we ate sitting on the branches of the trees and the tubers we enjoyed dug from the earth’s loving womb.”

“You said our farmers do migrate to cities in search of livelihood and settle there for many reasons. But do you know that they compromise with the living situations there and find their souls buried in their villages? I always had this feeling.”

The bus driver started sounding horn to call all the passengers back in the bus. I washed my face. I felt something was digging me from inside. He completed his lassi. I could see that he had a discipline in everything he did. The serene looks and the way he folded his hands while talking attracted my sight.

“I got into severe lung infection due to all types of pollution. My ears stopped working. I could realize that every person in a busy area shouted while he spoke and it turned out to be a habit to everyone.” He continued his story after a while when the bus started running.

Sometime ago even I planned to migrate to city. My old parents deeply opposed my decision. My wife was then suffering from severe anemia being seven months pregnant. We had nothing but empty stomachs. Those days were so bad and grim.

“What are you thinking?” I regained my composure when he started nudging me. I said “nothing. Just went back into the days of my despair. You please continue.” I said giving out a deep sigh.

“There was a political system in existence….there were many departments to take care of the society but they ceased to work it seems. The municipality was sleeping and the dumped garbage created deteriorated living in the streets. Social activists are always busy fighting with the politicians and the ruined system but nothing happened in real scene. May be, I had such feelings for a city life just because I was much disappointed regarding the living style and the governance persisting there.”

“ hmmm… yes, this might be the reason you were much depressed. I supported his view now.

“I was out of money and patience when I left the rice mill job too. I was too much depressed. The memories of my village haunted me every night. The school I attended, my friends, my family, the places which I loved the most like the river side, the panchayat building’s big tamarind tree, the bus stand and the large area beside the post office, where we spoilt brats played and made all sort of nonsense.”

“I slept on the railway platform every night and could see how much of corruption exists which was pinching the lives of travelers.”

“I listen to such stories of corruption through my friends who visit the city often. Even villages are not an exception for corruption now. We see the village officers and some leaders indulging in corruption.” I added in disgust remembering the village secretary and the president asking for bribe to allot old age pension to my mother.

I remembered the electricity department employees who ruthlessly took away my meter in the farm for not paying the bill. There was no crop. No money. What could have I done. I was left with no food or commodities. My wife dies during the delivery. Child too died at the same time. I was cursing myself for being a farmer. Here, this man says, to be a farmer is good. Frustration started mounting up again in my mind. He was not aware of my thoughts, he continued….

“I helped people to carry luggage outside the station and fed on the money they gave. Life was becoming miserable. One day I helped a person carry his luggage. His bags had a logo like thing written as people’s society. I was curious. When I enquired, he smiled and said, he had a voluntary organization which works for the people.”

“I remembered a middle aged man who came to live in our village and ditched the whole village in the name of an NGO by collecting money. I breached myself out of the compartment after taking the money he handed over to me. “

“After few days, I saw him lying on the road and basking for breath under the summer sun. I remembered how I was left on the platform when I was beaten by robbers.”

“I took him to hospital and there he survived a massive heart attack. Doctors praised my timely action and he thanked me for the life saving help. Other day, I went to visit him to ask about his well being. He asked me to come and serve his voluntary organization and he will provide me an occupation so that I can settle in my life. Though I was reluctant, I had no option other than this because I was fed up with my present day life anyway. So, I agreed to work with him.”

“From day one, I experienced a difference in the atmosphere. There was serenity. He fought for the youth and their identity in the society. There were many courses you could join. Mechanics, pottery, crafts, computer applications etc., I was not interested in any of the courses. Hesitantly I joined mechanics where they thought me how to repair cycles and automobiles. I hated those tools.”

“Looking at my despair, he asked me one day if I was interested in going to a village on an agricultural project. I jumped with joy and nodded my head. There was a team of 10 members who were given 3 acres of land and asked to cultivate whatever they wish and show a good productive crop. The hidden agenda was to motivate the village farmers to use modern tools in cultivating crops, to take the advantage of the government’s demonstrative officer and the schemes introduced from time to time.”

I stopped him now. “How can you say that a demonstrative officer can help the farmers? Or there are new methods of cultivation we can involve? This is not so easy! I have seen this in my village. Everyone is a scrap. You can’t rely on anyone.” I was biting my lower lip in anger, trying to control myself. The scenes of irresponsibility and heights of arrogance I’ve seen in government authorities and land lords during my dog days covered my eyes for a minute.

Suddenly I discovered that I was interrupting his flow. I controlled my agony and anger and asked him to continue. He patted me with his warm palm and gave me a compassionate look.

“I know how you feel like. But life is not all the same every time. There can be a change. Just listen how I turned to be a successful farmer and then decide.” I nodded my head in agreement. He continued….

“We went to the village with overwhelming joy. Initially, the team faced rejection from the villagers but when I plunged into the scene with my native flavor, every thing went well. I became the key role in the operation. My spoil sport nature vanished. I tasted the fruits of hard work to the core. We enjoyed the stay, farming and cultivating the best communication with the villagers. When the operation came to an end, the village changed a lot and the metamorphosis of development in every aspect turned the government on the village’s side to provide funds for further development.”

“But the problem here was the acquisition of land. Many villagers didn’t own even a piece of land. They worked as daily wage laborers for rich farmers. So, we had thought to a plan. We prepared a list of the farmers who don’t own a land and the area of cultivating land in the village. We could manage to convince some rich landlords to give their land on lease to landless farmers. We provided guidance and monitoring help. The result we got was spectacular and the crop yielded gold in the fields.

“Other landlords, who opposed this method, started playing politics to stop the movement and the on going development. We had to strive a lot to stand against all such practical problems and odds. But we were determined to bring about a change. Mean while our project manager consulted the government about this issue. It was all in news papers. Many other NGO organizations came to our help. People started supporting the cause. It was like a cinema story. Fighting against the land lords, spending sleepless nights, executing the plans and schemes, gathering people from all corners to support the cause…….it was all such a movie like thing which brought amazing changes in me.”

“Government agreed to look into the matter beyond all political powers which tried their level best to stamp the cause under their power. The waste lands, government lands, barren lands near forests, lands under endowments department etc., were traced out and leasing out those lands to landless farmers was planned.”

“In spite of lot of hurdles, lot of opposition….we managed to succeed in our motto. The whole world is looking towards us in surprise now! This is a great movement which changed the lives of farmers, increased the chances of increasing the living standards and enhanced the chances of more cultivation for the population.”

“After the project, I had to return to the city office again. I never knew how a period of 3 years went by involving me in the most wonderful project of my life.”

“Oh! Then?” I was more curious. Was this only three years that you lived a life of a farmer?” I asked. He smiled and added….

“Back in the city, I felt I was an alien again. I couldn’t breath and suffocation started mounting up. I was awarded best volunteer for the year in NGO organizations belt. Then I thought of asking what I wanted.”

“I approached the officials and asked for a bit of land in any village. I said I just wanted to work in the field even as a laborer. Can’t fit me into this hush of city life. I was given 2 acres of land on lease in a village about 35 km from the city. I felt I was blessed.”

“The operation we finished before helped me increase the efficiency in farming. I could reap mounted profits in the first year of farming and there was no looking back. I had all the farmers in my team now to improve farming conditions and techniques. Rejections and internal politics though tried to peep in; we fought against the forces towards the march of development.”

“Now, after a period of 10 years of my exile, the panchayat announced for my mistake of setting fire to the neighbor’s crop and product in the rage of caste politics., I am putting my feet again on the land I was born.”

I asked, “Why? Do you want to show the fellow villagers that you have achieved success in life though you were sent in exile?”

“He smiled and said, “No! I want to thank them for the exile. And I want to gather all the youth to motivate them. I want to teach them that migrating to cities in search of jobs and livelihood is a mere waste. I want to teach them new methods in farming and want to show them the profits they can reap in their own villages using new technology of farming. I want to bring reforms in the village system and want to pressurize the government by initiating movements to grant land to every youth in the village at least for lease. All the waste lands in the state should be turned into faming lands. We see farming lands turned dry to divide them into plots to sell for real estate business. I want to stop this and turn every field into golden crop. I want to dedicate my life in enhancing the utility of cultivation lands. I want to show that apt agriculture methods used can give food to the total population of the world. There will not be shortage for foods. This is the dream I have woven for my village.” He smiled.

This was the man I met on a bus journey. I could recognize his face I have seen in newspapers while I was having the chat. Yes, I was a depressed farmer. I wanted to commit suicide due to the burden of loans. I wanted to breathe my last in a far away place, in a lodge by consuming a chemical pesticide. I brought an amount of 5000 rupees borrowed from a landlord in the village which was for me, never to be returned. I just wanted to get drunk to the brim of my neck, watch 3 shows of my favourite hero’s movie, enjoy an ecstatic sex with a prostitute and then die.

Now I realize, death is not an alternative anytime. Life has much in store…once you find the key to confidence and will power!!! I owe my whole future to this co- traveler now!!!