‘Hey Poongodi.. Where are you rushing to this early in the morning? Have tea with us!’ said a voice.
While catching their breath, the second voice was heard saying , ‘I just had tea. By the way, you went to work on Karunanidhi’s farm yesterday, right? Did you get paid?
‘Not yet. We have one more day’s work. After completing that only I should get the money’ said the first voice.
‘Yes yes. I was asking because I don’t have any place to go today for work.’ the second one said.
Responding happily, the voice of the first person continued, ‘Karunanidhi did ask for three people. You can come and I will arrange for the third person.’
Disturbed by the voices and the rattling noise of the utensils, I also started to smell burning wood. Wondering what time it was, I grabbed my phone to check. It was 5.15 am. Thinking it was all in my head I decided to go back to sleep and that’s when I heard them again. The number of voices increased, only to make me realize I wasn’t dreaming. Despite my peaking curiosity, I chose to stay in bed and listen to the ongoing conversation. Fifteen minutes later, I got up to mute my alarm. As I turned on the light, the noises died down. A couple of minutes later I heard a knock on my door and as I responded, I saw a tiny woman holding a cup of piping hot black tea brewed with palm sugar. Beaming with a wide warm smile, Chellamma paati gave me the tea and left after asking about my cooking plans for the day. Unclear about what just happened, I carried on with my work. Same events took place for the next two days. I thought of going over to the meeting but I was still an outsider.
I had shifted to Malaiyadipatti only a couple days before. I hadn’t even unpacked my bags and the villagers were still not unclear about my purpose and intention. Every time I stepped out to buy something or just take a walk, few people would smile and few others stared. Though I had been visiting the village for the past six months, their attitude towards me was still distant. I was just grateful that they had moved on from asking about my caste, to what was my intention behind choosing their village, to believing that I wasn’t there to acquire their land. This analysis stopped me from walking right into their meetings. I decided to wait for my chance and that’s when my CRP (Community Resource Person) showed up to the meeting.
I stepped out as soon as I heard him say something. Nodding at the farmers, I smiled at my CRP and took my tea, that Chellamma was holding. While I was there drinking the strong black tea, nobody spoke the way they usually did. I could sense some awkwardness and so I returned to my room immediately after finishing my tea. I decided to call my CRP later that day to gather more information.
But things usually don’t work out the way we want it to and it came true when Chellamma came bearing my breakfast, that day. I had not asked for it, nor had she mentioned about making it for me. Still, she was there and I took the opportunity to ask her ‘Do people gather at your house for tea every morning?’. She smiled and said, ‘It has been happening for the last 12 years. Ever since your Ayya decided to stay away from his own family.’ Before I could reply, she continued, ‘Karunanidhi (the CRP) grew up with two mothers and many siblings. He gave birth to two children and as they were growing up, he decided to stay away from his wife and children because of some disputes.’ I decided to not probe about the disputes, and asked her to continue. ‘I am related to Karunanidhi and I have seen him starve rather than asking for food. So, I decided to provide for him whenever I could. That’s how the morning tea became a routine not for him but for anyone passing by my house as I always brew tea in excess.’ Elated by her response, I asked her whether I can also become a regular. She laughed out loud, showing a baby tooth, which made me realize how old she was. I was unable to digest the fact that she lives alone cooking food, carrying out all kinds of household chores and working in the farm field.
I became a regular to the morning discussion after that. Initially I stayed for 5-10 minutes and then gradually increased my time. I used to observe the villagers talking and kept laughing at their jokes irrespective of whether I understood the context or not. A few people who seemed awkward in my presence earlier, started speaking and Chellamma took the liberty of cracking jokes on my questions about agriculture. They weren’t just gossiping but were also planning their day’s activities in the field. ‘Who’s going to who’s field? Which employer hasn’t paid the farm labourers yet? What food are you cooking today?’ were the kind of questions that filled the air every morning. I enjoyed being a part of their routine and that’s when I realized something important. Just like the wall separating me from Chellamma’s house, it was my urban-ness that separated me and the farmers. Showing up every day to the morning meetings mitigated the misunderstanding of the farmers about my “urban-ness” and opened up a new pathway in my project.
As days went by, the muted spectator in me gathered up the courage to throw in suggestions on farm activities and requested to tag along with them to their farms. Whatever I learnt from them about agriculture was more effective than what I had researched over the past six months. I enjoyed being with the farmers in their land. I then asked questions about my project plan to the farmers in the morning meetings. They came up with lots of suggestions and course corrections. I was witnessing the club evolving into my own expert focused group discussion (FGD). I began planning my activities in ways that didn’t disturb the existing plans of the farmers.
Everything was on the track I had designed. And that’s when Karunanidhi, my CRP, had to move away in search of a job to earn money for the upcoming crop cycle. I used to execute my plans through him and now I felt alone. He stopped coming to the 5 am meetings as well and I suffered from the lack of counsel despite the rapport I had built with others. This happened because my ex-CRP Karunanidhi had a knack for making other farmers contribute and now I needed to learn to pick up on the trick.
Without him around, I felt strongly the impact of being dependent on one person from the community. I was fumbled and struggling to figure out the next step. Days passed by and the meetings were not charged with knowledge sharing like it used to be. Feeling stuck, I decided to stroll around the village that day. After walking for a while, I sat under the tree and watched the kids playing badminton. The rule was to give the racket to the next person if the player loses thrice. When one child decided to bend the rule, the other one got angry and left. While others continued playing badminton, the angered child came back with a volleyball. He inspired me to think, though I chose to play with him first.
Next day morning, I woke up at 4.55 am and went to Chellamma’s house. Surprised by my early arrival, she inquired whether everything was okay. I responded with a firm nod as the farmers started showing up. Mustering up all my courage I took the tea pot from Chellamma’s hands and served everyone with hot steaming black tea. As I sat down with my cup of tea, I said, ‘I need your help.’ Farmers were curious to know and that’s when a new story started playing out in my project. My network began to expand and farmers of my village became more receptive of my ideas. Phone numbers were exchanged and Whatsapp groups were created (only a few members to add). I worked with them on field, ate with them in their houses and played with their kids/ grand kids in the evenings. We came up with plans that were not only executable but also involved equal distribution of responsibilities. My project became our project. My activities became their activities. My goal became their goal. We all shared the same vision as we were all pained by the same existing reality. It has been a few months since I had set sail on this journey and I find myself deeply grateful for the knock I heard on my door two months before. Chellamma’s kind gesture to accommodate the outsider, has left me more empowered.
*FGD – Focus Group Discussion
*CRP – Community Resource Person
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