The Hindu Business Line : What’s growing for lunch, ma?

With the growing burden of debt and the pressure to earn money, farmers all over Vidarbha have been forced to choose cash crops over local food — local legumes, vegetables, oilseeds and even spices such as chillies, fennel and coriander. As a consequence, the range of crops has become limited. In the suicide-ridden Yavatmal district, for instance, the range of crops is restricted to cotton, tur — a commercially important pulse, and jowar — the local cereal staple.

This loss in crop variety has caused a steep drop in the consumption of such commodities among farming families, as cash-strapped farmers are unable to buy expensive food items from the market. But in seven small villages located in three tehsils of the district, women are bringing a slow, but sure, change. In the past year, the women of these villages have resurrected the nearly extinct agricultural tradition of irwa — a local practice of intercropping — to enhance their families’ food security and have, in the process, started collecting and saving local varieties of seeds and distributing them through traditional channels.

Anjanabai Renge, who is in her late 40s, of village Vaizula in Babhulgaon tehsil explains irwa. “After the main crops start growing, women keep a lookout for spaces left out, or spaces where seeds have not germinated, known as phuli baad spaces, in which they plant small quantities of seeds. Women also look after these crops, harvest them and save the seeds — called irwa seeds — for the next season.”

The most important surviving irwa practice in Vidarbha today is the practice of planting tur between cotton rows. The near-extinction of the irwa practice was first noticed by Dr Avinash Shirke, principal, Savitri Jyoti College of Social Work, Yavatmal. During a field study of agricultural practices in Vidarbha, Shirke noticed that the participation of women in farming had declined steeply from what it used to be a decade or two ago. “Women’s contribution to agriculture today,” he says, “is just labour. There is no deep involvement or intellectual effort on their part.”

“On talking to women, I found out that the commercialisation of seed and fertiliser —inputs which were the women’s lookout — were the main reason. Another important reason was the prevalence of cash crops. Today, there are no vegetables, beans or fruits in the farms for women to bring back home for the next meal.”

Talking to Shirke, women expressed eagerness to start irwa cultivation again, but said that they had no seed to start with. In April last year, with the help of local organic farmers Subhash Sharma and Ram Kalaspurkar Shirke arranged to have small quantities of seeds of 12 popular irwa varieties — all indigenous — distributed to 10 women each in seven villages. These include legumes like moong and urad; bajra; local beans such as popat, gawar, barbati, vaal and nakuli; and vegetables such as brinjal, tomato and bhindi.

The condition attached was simple — each woman must return double the quantity of seed received. This collected seed was meant for further distribution. However, at the end of the crop season, Shirke found that the women were willing to return four times the quantity of seed and had already distributed a similar quantity of seed among other women. “Seeing that the women were already doing a better job than we could ever do, we just told them to keep it up and never collected the seed at all,” he says.

The women are eager to talk about the benefits they have derived from the first year’s irwa cultivation. “This time after many years, we had vegetables to eat throughout the year,” says Satyabhama Bhurshe of village Pandhurna Khurd in Ghatanji tehsil. “Earlier we would have only daal most of the time, as vegetables were so expensive.”

The barbati crop in the village was especially successful. A total of 500 grams of seed had been planted. Out of the produce, fresh beans supplied the villagers’ platters for two months; Rs 1,000 worth of beans were sold; and 25 kg of the dried seeds —apart from what has been saved or distributed as seed — is stored for consumption in the summer months. In Vaizula, in addition to the irwa seeds, village women had demanded and received seven kg of local jowar seeds last year.

“We had lost our jowar seed 20 years back when the entire crop in the village was struck by a disease,” says Subhadra Randale. “And once we bought expensive hybrids, we were caught in the vicious circle for ever.” Since the advent of hybrid seeds — which are believed to give better yields — in the 1970s, farmers across India have given up stocking seeds of local varieties, preferring to go for hybrids sold by seed dealers. But the problem with hybrid seeds is that the new seed produced from these does not give good yields, and so farmers have to willy-nilly buy fresh seeds every year.

They also need a lot more input in terms of water, fertiliser and pesticides before they deliver the promised bumper crop. So, the cost of cultivation goes up and the farmers find it difficult to make a decent profit. Also, the excessive use of chemical inputs also depletes the land. After around 30 years in this vicious circle, many farmers are now searching for a way out, but are unable to because local varieties of seeds are hard to come by.

Today, the village has a stock of 80 kg of indigenous jowar seed and this year, the village’s entire jowar crop will come from this seed. “We will also give away seed to friends in other villages,” says Shyamrao Khadse, “For seed to survive, it is necessary to spread it.” The new seeds have also brought in new awareness. In Vaizula, since receiving seeds from Shirke, women have added to the collection from their own kitties — chickpea, papaya, fennel, black popat, even deshi tur. Lost systems of seed preservation —like storing seeds in the ear or pod, or storing husked seed in ash — are also being resurrected.

In Padhurna Khurd, women realised that lack of water and the high cost of fertiliser were some of the reasons for the dying out of the irwa practice. Eight women in the village have since started vermi-composting endeavours, and their families are saving Rs 2,500 per acre on fertiliser on average each year. Women have also undertaken tree plantation to conserve groundwater. Several kitchen gardens have also come up.

“Why do we do this?” asks elderly Chabubai Dhobale of Pandhurna Khurd, “We do it for joy — the joy of feeding our families good food, and the joy of being in touch with our lands.”

Women’s Feature Service