How Adivasi Villagers Saved Sahyadri Black Rice

The farmers of Sahyadri, belonging to the Adivasi Mahadev Koli tribe, are not just growing rice for themselves, but are also part of an aspiring conservationist movement that aims to re-establish the cultivation of heirloom grains, many of which have disappeared or are at risk of getting lost.

Across India, thousands of Indigenous rice strains have disappeared since the Green Revolution in the 1970s owing to increasing dependence upon hybrid seeds and the rapid occurrence of climate change. According to one estimate, more than 1,04,000 types of rice strains have been lost permanently and only 6,000 of the older varieties survive.

In Maharashtra too, the effects of climate change have caused the disappearance of hundreds of varieties. The tribes living in the rocky laterite plateau range used to grow a variety of Indigenous rice strains like Kalbhaat, Rani 98, Warangal, Raybhog and Komod, many of which are flood-resistant, pest-resistant and highly nutritious. These varieties almost disappeared as farmers transitioned towards high-yield, hybrid rice seeds.

The Dhindale family of five is back to cultivating their 2.5-acre land with the Rani 98 strain, a native rice variety whose short yellowish grains are rich in iron, and only grow on the Sahyadri hill slopes. “We’ve always eaten only the 98 variety. It is very delicious and tastes different than the rice sold in the shops,” says Yashoda. “Unless we eat our meals with this rice, our bodies don’t feel nourished. We don’t feel our stomach is full,” adds Sanjay sheepishly, pausing in the middle of the sowing season.

Around 2010, the Dhindale family, like other farmers around the region, stopped using native seeds and shifted towards hybrid cultivation because of high yield produce and higher selling rates in the market.

“We got attracted to the sarkari rice strains. There was no market for the deshi varieties which we could sell for Rs 12-Rs 14/kg, whereas sarkari rice rates commanded up to Rs 26/kg,” says Navnath Dhindle, a young farmer whose family exclusively cultivates the Kalbhaat or Sahyadri black. Highly aromatic and known for its nutritious value, Kalbhaat is virtually the king rice of Sahyadris as it is widely cultivated and known for its medicinal properties. Villagers consume its scratch water during fever and stomach ache as it is easy to digest and it is often given to lactating mothers and infants as their first solid meal.

The farmers soon realised the hybrid seeds were not pest-resistant and required heavy pesticides and ground fertilisers. They now had to spend double the money on cultivation than they would on the traditional farming of native varieties. Moreover, their two-time rice meals didn’t taste the same, they said.

Shailesh Awate, the co-founder of OOO farms and an avid trekker of Harishchandragad hill fort, began noticing the difference in the taste of rice served at the make-shift food tents. He had an unforgettable simple meal of matki usal and bhaat (pulses and rice) at the top of the hill in 2012 which made him pursue the origins of rice.

“It was an outstanding variety of rice. The smell and the taste were so different to the rice I had eaten anywhere in India,” he said about the Kalbhat variety. A few years later, when he returned to trek, the meal was not the same. “The villager told me the new rice variety was better as it produced a lot, but I didn’t find anything different in its taste this time,” he said.

Through conversations with local villagers, Awate learned the difference between the two meals was not just induced by food nostalgia but by native and hybrid rice grains. Many old farmers complained that the new seeds were destroying their land and making them bankrupt as it required a high use of fertilisers.

Earlier, they would cultivate native varieties adaptable to the harsh wind and heavy monsoon weather of Sahyadris, using traditional farming methods and organic manure. “They say the soil carries the memory of 1,000 years. Native can do carbon sequestration on their own and the soil knows how to behave with them depending upon the weather and water availability, it did not know how to grow the hybrid seeds without the use of fertilisers,” he said.

The situation prompted Awate to volunteer for a conservation movement and start OOO Farms, a community farming movement aimed at preserving traditional agriculture. He and his team scouted the villages of Sahyaris for native varieties of rice strains and prepared a seed bank by procuring handfuls of different grains. They assured the villagers of buying surplus grain at a higher rate than in the markets.

“The villagers thought we were a bunch of loony urban slackers who were paying them double the market rate for native rice,” Awate recalled. The experiment in 2017 yielded 800 kgs of assorted native varieties which was more than what the farmers would cultivate for their consumption. However, OOO farms struggled to sell the excess rice in the market due to rejection from customers.

“Selling native rice in the market is not easy. People are used to paying high prices for Basmati or other free-flowing rice varieties but are reluctant to spend money on short and broken grains of yellowish-hued rice,” said Shikha Kansagara, co-founder of OOO farms, which now sells over 30 native varieties through online platforms.

The OOO Farms launched an awareness drive about native and organic foods through social media. They also collaborated with villagers and held a rice festival and wild foods festival in Mumbai to make these produce familiar. “Holding this dialogue became important because we wanted to inform people about the wide range of diversity. And to make them aware that the nutrients, they were chasing off the shelf and foreign produce were available in our backyard,” Awate said.

The response from the two festivals was tremendous and piqued the curiosity of young and conscious city dwellers who picked up packets of rice on a trial basis. “People began to see the benefits of native rice, and many called back to place their orders. The majority of our clientele are returning customers,” Kansagara said.

The aromatic Sahyadri black in particular found a loyal customer base. The variety which was once on the brink of disappearance has now commercially become a viable variety. OOO farms annually harvest 25 tonnes of Sahyadri varieties of rice from Sheerepunje and Janawadi villages at Harishchandragad and pull them from the brink of extinction.

Besides the Sahyadri region, they are working across 63 villages in Maharashtra, Gujarat and Odisha where they distribute free samples of native rice varieties and provide training on genetic purity.

Scientist Debal Deb, one of the premier rice conservationists in the country who started the native rice conservation movement in Odisha, 27 years ago, said that genetic purity was the most important aspect of rice conservation and also often an overlooked one. “The native rice varieties have a range of aromatic and medicinal properties. They are adaptable to the weather and can withstand different types of climates, low and infrequent rainfall, long spells of drought, and harsh winds. It is important to maintain their genetic purity so that their original characters are not lost,’’ he added.

While conserving good rice strains and preparing a seed bank was a part of traditional farming methods, Deb said many farmers were not aware of genetic purity and had forgotten the art and science of conservation. He provides training to farmers from 18 rice-producing states and has also trained farmers from Sahyadri on how to prevent cross-pollination and maintain the original strains.

The conservation initiative has revived old varieties in the Sahyadri region and also put the indigenous rice back on the plates of tribals. Villagers have also learned the need for conservation in particular after facing hardships during the COVID-19 lockdown. The Sheerepunje villages, like most others located on the Harishchandragad, have been traditionally self-reliant due to their remote location. The nearest market and shops lie on a hike of 28 km at the base camp in Rajur village. Villagers would therefore consume vegetables and edibles from forests and grow rice, millet and pulses to minimise their dependence on commercial shops. “Being self-reliant is our way of life, we are not dependent on others. Hybrid seeds made us depend on store-bought fertilisers. The soil does not produce grains if we don’t add fertilisers,” said Navnath.

If a Covid-19-like situation arises again, villagers said they would not be affected by the lockdown and closure of shops for their basic needs. For Yashoda, conservation is about preserving for the “future generations.” After the harvest, she will preserve this year’s best grains in a bamboo khalgi for her three children, so they can rely on their family seed bank for the cultivation of their favourite rice.