A mini forest of one's own: How a Kerala man grew 400 trees in 3 cents of land

 MR Hari had tried many other methods before finally using the Miyawaki method to raise a forest of 400 plants in 18 months, in a plot in Puliyarakonam, Thiruvananthapuram.

MR Hari hops into the little restaurant just outside his plot in Puliyarakonam, a wee bit off the city of Thiruvananthapuram. He is obviously at home here, asking the ‘chechi’ running the restaurant for a breakfast of dosa and kadala (gram) curry, and telling her to allow him to be a complete vegetarian, without pampering him with an early morning offering of her chicken curry.

The plot next to it is two acres in all, part of it now converted into a forest, using the Miyawaki method. Miyawaki is a technique pioneered by Japanese botanist Akira Miyawaki, that involves growing self-sustaining mini forests in urban areas. The method helps the plants grow 10 times faster and 30 times denser than in normal conditions.

“Nothing was working. I had bought this land 12 years ago, after selling off my property in Kottayam, where I am from. But every year when the summer came, all the plants I planted would just die,” Hari says, as he climbs up the plot, which is divided into several layers. He expertly identifies every little plant on the way, suggesting the medicinal remedies that the leaves or fruits of some could give.

“The padathali is good for getting rid of grey hair, the thamravalli with the copper-coloured leaves is used by tribal people to treat cancer without causing wounds, the kareelanchi was once used to treat itching in children, the kayyonni for hair growth and a way to rebuild your failed lungs, the naaku with the green leaves is used by tribal people for tonsillitis and the changalamparanda is often powdered into chutney for the bones,” he says, often using pronouns for the plants, addressing them like children.

Hari runs a company called Invis Multimedia in Thiruvananthapuram with three partners, but his real interest has always been farming, he says. “I am a farmer, I want to be a farmer,” he says sitting on top of a rock, fondly looking at the forest he has raised in three cents of land.

“I grew up among trees, in a small town in Kottayam. I loved to plant them. When I grew up, I sold off my property in Kottayam and bought this dry land which had a pond. But it dried up when I got it cleaned – turns out all the water was because of the mud that was stuck in the holes. When we cleaned it, the water drained out through the holes.” 

He tried to raise a forest every year, planting 500 trees. Fifty of those would bloom but die with no groundwater. He did his best not to drill a borewell, since that would harm the environment. But when everything else failed, he tried that as well. That too, didn’t work.

Disheartened, Hari waited for another way out. “That’s when I heard of the Japanese Miyawaki method. I got help from a scientist friend of mine, Dr Mathew Dan. I took one-and-a-half years to research and experiment. Eighteen months ago, I planted these 400 trees on three cents, and they have shot up in search of sunlight so very soon,” he says, pointing at his mini forest of trees, shrubs, creepers and so on.

Hari elaborates about the plants he has raised – 70 species of natural vegetation and 200 more added. Among the natural ones he names are Ada pathiyan (Holostemma Ada-Kodien), Uzhinja (Cardiospermum helicacabum), Kayyonni (Eclipta prostrata), Nilappana (Curculigo orchioides), etc. And among those planted are Ashokam (Saraca asoca), Arayaal (Ficus relegiosa), Karingali (Acacia catechu), Thanni (Terminalia bellirica) and so on.

“There would be one type of insects feeding on a specific plant. Normally what happens is, people raise just one kind of plant over a plot of land and this particular insect that feeds on it will attack it. Whereas in a forest, different species of plants will be attacked by different types of insects. And some of these insects will prey on the others, and that way the plants are protected. It is always ideal to grow multiple species of plants.”

Hari describes his method. On top of the soil, you make a bed with tender coconut shell, and put a coating mixture over it using lime shell. The coating mixture includes rice hull, coir pith and cowdung. Hari rattles off the use of each component: to hold water, to make the plants strong, to prepare the soil. “The plants are so close to each other that they need to grow fast to get the sunlight, competing with each other,” he speaks fondly of them. Hari gets upset when he spots some slaked lime sprinkled around a few plants. He calls up a worker on the phone and asks why. “It appears some agriculture officer had suggested it. But their methods are different,” Hari says after the call.

He then shows a Facebook post – a photo of mushrooms sprouting around his plants. “I was going to post this photo of mushrooms on October 27, when Facebook brought me a reminder from a year ago. It seems the same day last year, mushrooms had sprouted in the forest. That means the organic nature of the soil is just perfect. It means I am doing something right,” he says cheerfully, and adds, “In my opinion, this is the only way, we as humans, can do something to put an end to climate change and global warming.”

Hari gets up from the rock and walks into his forest with a long stick. “I will stay here for a while,” he says, his voice drowning in the sounds of the forest already.

(Source: TNM)

This Kerala tribal woman can prepare 500 medicines from memory

Hundreds trek to the forests in Thiruvananthapuram district to get treated by Lakshmikutty.

She lives in a small hut with a palm leaves roof in a tribal settlement, deep in the forest of Kallar in Thiruvananthapuram district.

Lakshmikutty, a 75-year-old tribal woman is a poet, poison healer and teacher at Kerala Folklore Academy.

With medicinal herbs and plants surrounding her small hut, hundreds trek to the forests to visit Lakshmikutty, who offers herbal treatment for poisoning. But it’s not only medicine that she has to offer but she also helps calm those affected with her gentle words, which can last for hours. 

All her knowledge on herbal treatment, she says, was passed on from her mother, who worked as a midwife. And with neither Lakshmikutty nor her mother making a written record of the medicinal plants and their uses, the Kerala Forest Department has decided to compile a book based on her expertise.

“I can prepare about 500 medicinal treatments from memory. Till now I have not forgotten them. But people come here for poison treatment mainly snake or insect bites,” she says.

Her dream, she says, is to convert her hut into a small hospital, where patients requiring long-term treatment can continue to stay.

Many fondly refer to her as ‘Vanamuthassi’ (Grandmother of the jungle in Malayalam) but she is more than just that. Lakshmikutty also gives lectures on natural medicine at various institutions across the southern states.

“I have visited many places outside the forest. Met many people, but I belong here. My heredity exists here,” she notes.

It was in 1995 that Lakshmikutti got noticed by those outside her forest when she received the ‘Naattu Vaidya Rathna’ award (award for naturopathy) from the Kerala government.

“Till then people used to come here after hearing me from those I have already cured. Before 1995 people visited me from far off places but the number increased after I won the award,” she recalls. She has won numerous awards since then, with the latest coming from the Indian Biodiversity Congress in 2016.

Her persistence made her the only tribal girl from her area to attend school in the 1950s. “I still wonder how I went to school. I was persistent that I go to school and my father finally had to agree,” she laughs.  Together with two other boys from her settlement, Lakshmikutty walked 10 kilometres every day to get to school. She, however, studied only until class 8 as her school did not have higher education.

One of the boys she walked to school with, was her cousin Mathan Kaani, who she developed a deep friendship with, that eventually progressed to marriage. “He was with me in all my decisions and achievements. He used to tell me that I can achieve my goals even without him because I was a strong woman. He was the perfect partner from the day I got married at the age of 16 until he died last year,” she recounts.

Not wanting their children to face the same challenges they had undergone as tribals living in the forest, Lakshmikutty and her husband provided their children with a good education.

“I was adamant that my children should study. Nobody in our settlement gets an education, I consider it valuable,” she says.

But tragedy struck Lakshmikutty’s family.

“The most painful incident I have gone through is my elder son’s death. He was killed by a wild elephant,” she recalls. Her younger son also died in an accident. Another son is working as chief ticket examiner for the railways.

But beyond the world of natural medicine, Lakshmikutty is also known for her satirical poems and writings. She has written numerous articles ranging from tribal culture to the forests, which have been published by DC Books.

Her poems, she observes, can be recited on a rhythm. “These are simple words anybody can recite, it’s not in tribal language as you expect,” she smiles.

And despite all that she’s achieved, the 75-year-old woman insists, “The outer world has given me a lot, awards, honour, published books and so on. But I want to stay here. To live in the forest, you need courage.”

(Source: TNM)

Kerala HC upholds Thiruvananthapuram school’s decision to suspend two students for hugging

Justice Shaji P Chaly quashed the State Commission for Protection of Child Rights’ order asking St Thomas Central School to revoke the suspension.

The Kerala High Court on Saturday upheld the decision of a school in Thiruvananthapuram to suspend two Class 12 students – a boy and a girl – for hugging publicly during an arts festival, The Indian Express reported. Justice Shaji P Chaly quashed the Kerala State Commission for Protection of Child Rights’ order asking St Thomas Central School to revoke the suspension.

The school management, Mar Thoma Church, had appealed to the high court against the state commission’s order. In its verdict, the court said the commission only has the power to recommend the government provide relief to a child victim.

The court said the commission cannot interfere in a school principal’s decision to take action necessary to maintain discipline and morality in the school.

The boy had hugged the girl in front of other students during an arts festival held on August 21. The two students later apologised to the vice-principal. However, some time later, the photographs appeared on Instagram. The school then suspended the two students.

In Saturday’s order, Justice Chaly said, “I find that various photographs were posted on Instagram in various compromising positions, and if it had the effect of publicity, the issue hampers the reputation of the school.”

The court also dismissed the boy’s contention that his Instagram account was private and that the school authorities had hacked into it, which was illegal.

(Source: Scroll)

A tribal student is bullied and shunted out of govt engineering college in Kerala

“I will fail if I die. I want to win by living my life. And, I know how difficult it is here. I feel like laughing when I repeatedly told that this country is a democratic one; Is this the same country where Dalit research scholar Rohit Vemula had to end his life writing “my birth is my fatal accident”? But, I am not ready to take his route, because I want to live, because I will fail if I die.”

There are anguish, resistance and an uncompromising willpower in these words of an Adivasi engineering student from Kerala who was left to wage a war on her own. This was told by Athira, a student of the College of Engineering, Thiruvananthapuram (CET) who was targeted by the college authorities for raising questions against discriminating students from backward communities inside the campus.

And it is exact replica of several untold words of other hundreds of Dalit, Scheduled Caste (SC) and Scheduled Tribe ( ST) students inside CET and outisde, who were compelled to keep calm thinking about their poor parents struggling to make both ends meet, and dreaming of a bright future which they believe to be erasing all their miseries.

Athira, a resident of vanchivayal, Vandiperiyar of Idukki district who belongs to Oorali tribe was humiliated, bullied, harassed, branded as a mental patient, expelled from the hostel and class room and denied permission to attend exams.

Now she is out of the campus, knocking all the doors to make her reentry to the campus possible and waiting for a day justice will be delivered to her.

What made life of this Adivasi girl, who scored 89 percent marks in plus two, this hard? Athira shares her story with SouthLive.

“I was born in a poor Adivasi colony in Vanchivayal, Vandiperiyar. Both my father Thankappan and mother Ramani are day labourers under MGNREGA project. Though they were uneducated, they were determined to give the best of education to me. I started schooling in Valadi, a neighbouring village, as there was no school in my homeland. I completed by tenth in Modern Residential School (MRC) in Idukki and passed out from Thiruvananthapuram Ambedkar school in plus-two with 89 percent marks.

After plus two, I got admission in College of Engineering, Thiruvananthapuram (CET) through ST quota for engineering. I was very happy as I got a seat in CET, a leading engineering college in the state.

But reality inside the campus was bitter. During initial days of classes, I occupied the first row of class room to get a better attention of teachers. However, after a couple of days, I was advised by one of the teachers to not sit in the first row since it was 'reserved' for brilliant students. What teacher told me was this:

“If you sit with them ( students with top ranks in the entrance exam) you will develop an ego towards them which will ultimately affect your concentration on studies. So, better to sit in the middle or back row of the class room.”

This “advice” was also given to an another Dalit student in my class. After that, we both started sitting in the back row.

This was followed by frequent 'free advices' by Staff Adviser and other teachers. It was mainly this:
“Since you got admission through reservation, the competition would be high. So, always focus on your studies and not intervene in other things.”

Suggestions on that lines were given to me and other Dalit students both in public and personal talks. This branding discouraged me and I started losing confidence.

In the first semester examination, I had seven supplementary exams since Staff Advisior reduced my internal marks without any explanation while my colleagues got good marks. I applied for revaluation in three subjects and passed in it and attended supplementary examinations for the rest winning two among them.

After failing in few subjects just because the Staff Adviser reduced my internal marks, I got tensed and had a feeling that I failed because of some outer interventions. This led me to take to Facebook to express my anguish.

“What is your opinion about reservation for students in CET?” I asked this in a secret Facebook group for CET. Though my intention was to commence a fruitful discussion on isolation of backward students in the campus, it was seen by authorities, staffs and students from the general category as an act of revolt and a coup attempt from my part.

I was bullied, harassed and warned for this one question.

“How dare you ask such a question in public?” that was the concern of teachers.

“Since we are here as your seniors, you don't have any right to outsmart us by such cheap attempts to become popular on the campus?” thus said, seniors.

The real reward for the question came afterwards; that was an allegation that I am a mental patient. Hostel warden, by the direction of Staff Adviser and some other teachers, informed my parents that I am mentally-challenged and I should be taken to any mental hospital very soon.

My parents took me to several hospitals and I was compelled to take a lot of medicines for mental illness. During this period, I missed several classes which forced me to produce my medical certificate which claimed that I underwent treatments for mental health in the college to attend third-semester examination.

Then I understood that it was a trap from the part of authorities to fasten their move against me, to get a medical certificate submitted by myself claiming that I am a mental patient.

Before the results of the third semester came in, the Staff Adviser informed my parents that my grades would not be impressive and there is no point in letting me study in the campus. Following this, my desperate parents decided to take me back to my house and to discontinue my studies in the CET mid way.

As I came back to my home and started applying for admissions in other colleges, one of our teachers called me back and told me that I can continue my studies in CET itself.

However, the college welcomed me with hundreds of technical problems and asked me to start my course from first semester itself or get a transfer to any college.

Now, I am staying in a private hostel at Thiruvananthapuram waiting for my transfer order to come. But, I still don't know why I can't continue my studies in CET and who wanted me to be out of the campus and for what?”

According to Athira's friends at CET, the discrimination against backward students in the campus is not a new thing. They said several Dalit students have stopped their education midway due to pressure and humiliation from the faculties.

A Muslim student at CET, who prefers to be not named “as he feared of a witch hunt from the authorities”, told SouthLive that the mood of the CET itself is casteist.

"The reason behind it is simple. Most of the students who get admission in the campus from general category would be from the upper caste, well off family. As they are products of leading private institutes they will be able to pick up things easily and thus excel in academics while students from poor families lag behind them, even after many rounds of home works.This is apparent. But, teachers, who are meant to bring backward students to the mainstream, instead of performing their duties, would discourage them and create a feeling in them that they are not in the right place." - An engineering student at CET

He also added that the students' union on the campus in the leadership of Students Federation of India (SFI) was reluctant to address the issue. “When we approached them asking to hold a strike demanding justice for Athira, the SFI leaders said that they will not conduct it and, instead, will take part in it if it was held by some other student's group,” he said.

Another friend of Athira, Gopi Kannan, former M.Phil student at University of Kerala, Kariavattom campus is also of the same opinion. He told SouthLive that there are many 'losers' with the same fate of Athira from backward communities in these colleges who gave up after they got humiliated.

"Athira got willpower and that is why she is resisting. Bu the ground reality is really alarming as most of the drop outs are from backward communities. Unfortunately, teachers have a huge role in it." -- Gopi Kannan, former MPhil student at University of Kerala

A teacher at CET, who also prefers to be quoted anonymous as “the months of transfer and promotion nearing” told SouthLive that she has done all that possible to bring Athira back to college.

She said that she first noticed her while clearing internal marks of students for two reasons. One, for her continuous absence and, second, for her tribe “Oorali”.

"Since I noticed no other student from her community ever before, I got a special interest in her case and called her parents asking the reason for her absence." -- A teacher at CET

She also said that she was the one who called her back to the college assuming that her reentry would not be as complicated as it happened. “I did all I can do for her reentry first and transfer later, and I approached all officials from the state education minister to the lower level employees to consider her matter,” she added.

Athira says this particular teacher also insisted her to get a transfer to any other college and to end her battle to get back to CET.

“Why should I leave CET as the college is obliged to allow me to continue my studies there. The teacher also urges me to compromise and live peacefully. This might be out of regard for me. But I am not ready to give it up. My fight is against injustice, and that is not only about me, but for thousands from my community, to prove that our lives are also matter,” Athira concludes.

(Source: South Live)

Mixed fortunes for the daughters of Travancore

IN THE 1920s Queen Sethu Lakshmi Bayi of Travancore, a kingdom that would later become part of the south Indian state of Kerala, rewarded women who went to university with an invitation to tea at the palace. The royals were matrilineal—the maharajah’s sister’s sons, rather than his own progeny, inherited the throne. The Nairs, an upper-caste Hindu community, likewise bequeathed the family home to women and believed strongly in female education. “The birth of a girl [was] a cause for celebration,” recalls Gouri Parvathi Bayi, a member of the erstwhile royal family, sitting in her now slightly dilapidated palace in Kerala’s state capital, Thiruvananthapuram.

Modern Kerala is still often upheld as India’s best state for women. It has the country’s highest female literacy rate at 92%, with only four percentage points’ difference between male and female rates. In Rajasthan, a large northern state, only 53% of women are literate: almost 30 percentage points behind their male counterparts. Nationally, only two-thirds of all women can read and write, versus four-fifths of men. Kerala also has India’s lowest rates of maternal mortality as well as a population of 1,084 women per 1,000 men, which makes it the country’s most female state. India’s national population has 940 women per 1,000 men, as couples selectively abort female fetuses or neglect daughters. Haryana, another northern state, has just 877 baby girls per 1,000 boys. Families there have in recent years started sourcing brides from Kerala.

The poor status of women in India has been under the spotlight since the brutal gang-rape of a student in Delhi in December sparked home-grown protests, international criticism, and a revision of the country’s sexual-assault laws. Yet vicious attacks have continued. This month, a seven-year-old girl was allegedly assaulted at a school in the capital, triggering further protests. A Swiss tourist camping with her husband in Madhya Pradesh, a poor and landlocked state, was allegedly gang-raped. Women in the growing urban middle class, in particular, are becoming more independent and educated. Yet a culture of preserving a daughter’s virginity, paying dowries upon her marriage, and then “losing” her and her earning capacity to her husband’s family persists. A lower proportion of India’s women work than do those in any of its seven neighbours bar Pakistan. 

Kerala, a small chili-shaped state filled with palm trees, thus bucks some national trends. The progressive maharajahs, who ruled with the permission of British colonisers until 1947, have given way to elected leaders. Many Nairs, whose matrilineal customs were once copied by the less well-off, including Muslim communities, have sold their ancestral land to property developers. Yet women still benefit. Kerala has see-sawed between two coalition governments—one led by the Communist party, one led by the Congress party, which leads India’s national coalition—in every poll since 1982.

Amid such competition, politicians woo savvy voters with welfare schemes that often support women and children. Kudumbashree, a programme founded in 1998 that works with half of the state’s households, organises women into savings clubs and offers grants to entrepreneurs. J. Devika, of the Centre for Development Studies in Thiruvananthapuram, says the scheme has boosted women’s financial know-how (though the state has taken advantage of low wages when it hires the business that have resulted, such as street-cleaning outfits).

But there’s trouble in paradise. Just over a fifth of Keralite women aged 15-59 are working or job-hunting, which is roughly in line with the national average, according to 2009-10 data. This is partly because they are studying at schools and colleges. But it is also because they regard menial jobs as being beneath them. “A change in mindset is urgently needed,” says a senior state government official, who laments that far more women have their noses to the grindstone in neighbouring Tamil Nadu. Also, many families need only one bread-winner. Communist governments and strong unions have resulted in high wages—a carpenter in rural Kerala earns 538 rupees ($9.96) a day, more than double the national average for such work, according to India’s labour ministry. Many Keralite men migrate to the Gulf for work and send large pay packets home.

Perhaps surprisingly, Kerala also has India’s third-highest official rate of crimes against women, with 34 offences per 100,000 citizens in 2011 (this may be due in part to well-informed Keralites reporting more crimes than their peers). Fewer of Thiruvananthapuram’s women go out alone after dusk than do women in Delhi, according to a recent study. Those who do walk alone at night risk being seen as “loose”. Kalyani Nandakumar, a 19-year-old student who is always home by 7pm, feels hemmed in. “Even being seen with a boy is a problem,” she says. “Boys from good families might see you and think, ‘we don’t want a girl like that in our family’.” Kerala’s pride in its women, it seems, comes with a restrictive emphasis on dignified conduct.

(Source: The Economist)