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Not a fad, but a fruit of the fertile brain: Indian Express
Malerkotla, June 13: Long before organic became fashionable, one little corner of Punjab was doing the right thing. Not because they anticipated the world back-to-basics boom in growing and eating naturally, but simply because they didn`t know any other way.
Malerkotla, June 13: Long before organic became fashionable, one little corner of Punjab was doing the right thing. Not because they anticipated the world back-to-basics boom in growing and eating naturally, but simply because they didn’t know any other way.
‘‘Be it the homely bitter gourd or the exotic musk melon, our produce has its own flavour,’’ says the wizened old Mohammed Babu, who’s been working on his 20 bighas (four acres) for 60 years. ‘‘I don’t recall doing anything else,’’ he flashes a gap-toothed smile.
That is true of the entire community of Kambojs in Malerkotla, a quaint little town that seriously challenges the image of Punjab as a wheat-only state. For more than 100 years now, its 10,000-odd farmers — who trace their roots to the soldiers of Ahmad Shah Abdali — have avoided using chemical fertilisers and insecticides in their fields.
‘‘The practice stemmed from a combination of factors such as small landholdings, poverty and illiteracy,’’ says Allah Rang, head, Department of Plant Breeding at Punjab Agricultural University and one of the first graduates of Malerkotla.
The small pieces of land drove them to grow vegetables, and lack of money kept them away from costly chemicals and insecticides.
Showing off his glistening rows of musk melons, Shamshad, who owns five bighas (one acre) of land, says animal manure is not only pocket-friendly — it comes from the herd of sheep and cows he owns — but also keeps pests at bay. ‘‘It does require daily weeding but that is no problem,’’ he smiles. Labour, in fact, is not an issue, for farming is a family occupation. ‘‘Right from my wife to my sons, daughters-in-law and grandchildren, everyone pitches in,’’ says Fakir Mohammed.
For insecticides, they turn to the ashes of cowdung used in their chulha, and neem leaves. ‘‘A sprinkling of these ashes on vegetables keeps insects away,’’ says Allah Rang. Dr Amrik Singh Sidhu, head, Department of Vegetable Crops at PAU, who visited these horticulturists a while ago, marvels at their enterprise. ‘‘They make an acre yield what four to five acres generally do by growing multiple crops a year.’’
Besides practising inter-cropping, these peasants have pioneered what Allah Rang calls ‘relay farming’. Before one vegetable crop comes to an end, they plant another so that there is no hiatus. ‘‘They are also savvy enough to time their vegetables in such a way that they are available in the off-season,’’ says the professor.
It helps that they sell their produce themselves. ‘‘Come rain or shine, they rise before the sun to pluck their vegetables and take them to the local mandi,’’ says Bhag Singh of the nearby Rurka village.
This hands-on approach is equally true of the biggest Kamboj farmer in the area, three brothers who together own 100 bighas at Madri village. Bashir, the youngest, thinks nothing of joining his labourers in hoisting cucumber sacks onto trucks. ‘‘That’s my job,’’ he grins. The middle brother Munir takes the produce to Chandigarh every morning, while Rafiq, the eldest who has an M.Com degree from Aligarh Muslim University, supervises their own processed food unit. Vegetables, they are quick to tell you, are their mainstay. Like others, they also swear by chemical-free farming. And no, they don’t plan to ever drop veggies.
‘‘The practice stemmed from a combination of factors such as small landholdings, poverty and illiteracy,’’ says Allah Rang, head, Department of Plant Breeding at Punjab Agricultural University and one of the first graduates of Malerkotla.
The small pieces of land drove them to grow vegetables, and lack of money kept them away from costly chemicals and insecticides.
Showing off his glistening rows of musk melons, Shamshad, who owns five bighas (one acre) of land, says animal manure is not only pocket-friendly — it comes from the herd of sheep and cows he owns — but also keeps pests at bay. ‘‘It does require daily weeding but that is no problem,’’ he smiles. Labour, in fact, is not an issue, for farming is a family occupation. ‘‘Right from my wife to my sons, daughters-in-law and grandchildren, everyone pitches in,’’ says Fakir Mohammed.
For insecticides, they turn to the ashes of cowdung used in their chulha, and neem leaves. ‘‘A sprinkling of these ashes on vegetables keeps insects away,’’ says Allah Rang. Dr Amrik Singh Sidhu, head, Department of Vegetable Crops at PAU, who visited these horticulturists a while ago, marvels at their enterprise. ‘‘They make an acre yield what four to five acres generally do by growing multiple crops a year.’’
Besides practising inter-cropping, these peasants have pioneered what Allah Rang calls ‘relay farming’. Before one vegetable crop comes to an end, they plant another so that there is no hiatus. ‘‘They are also savvy enough to time their vegetables in such a way that they are available in the off-season,’’ says the professor.
It helps that they sell their produce themselves. ‘‘Come rain or shine, they rise before the sun to pluck their vegetables and take them to the local mandi,’’ says Bhag Singh of the nearby Rurka village.
This hands-on approach is equally true of the biggest Kamboj farmer in the area, three brothers who together own 100 bighas at Madri village. Bashir, the youngest, thinks nothing of joining his labourers in hoisting cucumber sacks onto trucks. ‘‘That’s my job,’’ he grins. The middle brother Munir takes the produce to Chandigarh every morning, while Rafiq, the eldest who has an M.Com degree from Aligarh Muslim University, supervises their own processed food unit. Vegetables, they are quick to tell you, are their mainstay. Like others, they also swear by chemical-free farming. And no, they don’t plan to ever drop veggies.