Kadwanchi village, which is about an 80 km drive from Aurangabad in the parched Marathwada region of Maharashtra, is an oasis. The village has 650 farm ponds, and the groundwater sources such as wells and borewells have adequate water all year round.

A 54-year-old Chandrakant Kshirsagar, ex-sarpanch and the village head, says the village has a record 1,500 acres of grape vineyards with several acres of pomegranate and other crops that enable the farmers to lead a comfortable life.

Though the village, with a population of over 1,000, is now living a prosperous life, the situation 35 years ago was quite different.

Chandrakant says, “The village land was barren. I could barely water 0.75 acres of my vineyard in 5-acre farmland. The village’s river had dried up and the groundwater resources depleted due to overexploitation. Even as the streams started flowing during the monsoon, the surface water flowed away without percolating in the ground.”

However, since the mid-1990s, the villagers stepped up and took drastic efforts to transform their lives. They constructed farm ponds and carried watershed management work that reap benefits even after 20 years.

Thanks to the effort by Vijay Anna Borade of Marathwada Sheti Sahitya Mandal (MSSM), engineers from the Krishi Vigyan Kendra—an extended agricultural sector of the Central Government’s Indian Council of Agriculture Research—along with the villagers, the village is now drought-free.

In an earlier article by The Better India, we spoke of the dire state of the Kadwanchi village. Four years on, the villagers have prospered with droughts being a thing of the past.

A Life-Altering Transformation

Chandrakant says, “The Marathwada region is plagued with long spells of drought, leading to heavy crop loss and one of the reasons for farmer suicides. The case was no different with Kadwanchi in 1995. Women walked long distances in the scorching sun to fetch a pot of water and the villagers depended heavily on tankers and migrated to work as sugarcane labourers in other parts of the state.”

As the villagers braced for another drought year, he adds that one Vijay Anna Borade from Patoda and associated with MSSM visited the village and shared an example of watershed work in Jodgaon village of the neighbouring Beed district. “He suggested we carry out watershed management along with water conservation works to implement and improve the water scarcity of the village,” he says.

Tired of living in despair, Chandrakant adds that the villagers were willing to give it a try. “The residents agreed to contribute for the labour works and other requirements to build barrages, Continuous Contour Trenches (CCT) and other structures to arrest the rainwater and percolate it in the ground,” he adds.

Moreover, the villagers built farm ponds to store water for peak summer months.

Chandrakant says that many drought-prone villages take such measures but Kadwanchi earned massive success. “Usually, the efforts usually die down, and the work does not deliver expected results. But our success can also be attributed to the change in our farming methods. The farmers switched to drip and sprinkle irrigation and gave up on water-intensive crops like sugarcane and wheat. Instead, they cultivated grapes, pomegranate, sweet lime, lemon, soybean and red gram,” he adds.

By early 2000, their conditions started improving, and farmers expanded their agricultural land.

Citing an example of their success, he says, “In 2012, the district registered only 198 mm of rainfall. Even then, no farmer lost their grape vineyards as there was enough water available for the plants to survive.”

Over the years, Chandrakant increased his agricultural land to 30 acres and grew grapes over 12 acres. “The farmers are now collectively planning to export the grapes from the coming season,” he says, adding the cumulative yearly income of the village increased from Rs 74 lakh in 2000 to Rs 70 crore in 2019.

Now 75-years-old, Vijay says, “The locals were convinced and agreed to take the effort because they saw economic benefits in it. They hoped that if the model worked, their financial issues would be solved too.”

Vitthal Anna, a villager owning 18 acres of agricultural land, says that the water availability has made him prosperous. “Earlier, the village could not manage even 10 acres of sugarcane for cultivation but now we grow hundreds of acres of grapes. My income of Rs 3.5 lakh in 2010 has now increased to Rs 40 lakh by growing grapes in 10 acres of land. I have 3.5 acres of farm ponds and the remaining land is used to grow Kharif and Rabi crops,” he says.

Moreover, Vijay adds that the aspect of sustainability was equally responsible in problem-solving. “The residents were prepared to become self-sustained and were guided in that direction. They chose to follow the directions by maintaining the implemented water conservation works and carried them forward to their benefit. Such determination determines whether a particular project will fail or succeed,” he says.

‘How The Tables Have Turned’

Speaking about the challenges, Vijay shares that there were always people who opposed new ideas and initiatives. “People and community participation are fancy terms but it’s difficult to implement on ground. At times, the residents felt demotivated to carry out the shramdaan (voluntary labour work). On such occasions, some engineers and I picked up the tools and equipment ourselves to show our support and motivate the villagers,” he explains.

Pandit Wasre, an engineer at the KVK who managed the execution of the project, says, “In 1995, the Jalna office received Rs 1.15 crore under the Indo-German Watershed Development Programme (IGWDP) to execute water conservation across 100 villages in the district and Kadwanchi was among them.”

“A forest of 200 acres on private lands was created with trees like bamboo, teak, banyan and Sheesham. The forest area serves as a safe habitat for birds and other biodiversity elements in the vicinity,” he says.

Pandit adds that impressed with their success, neighbouring villages such as Mangur, Shahi and Ghetuli replicated their water conservation model.

However, Eshwer Kale, a senior researcher at Watershed Organisation Trust (WOTR), in his observations, warns that farmers in the semi-arid region may be exploiting the farm pond usage. In the paper titled ‘Problematic Uses and Practices of Farm Ponds in Maharashtra’, he states, “Farmers extract a huge amount of groundwater to store in large-sized farm ponds.”

Eshwer also points out the loss due to evaporation of the surface water in the ponds and the use of plastic to prevent it from percolating in the ground may prove to be unsustainable practices in the long run. He suggests measures and the need to regulate farm pond practices.
To limit the numbers and size of the farm ponds, he suggests a ban on using groundwater for farm ponds, bringing alternatives to plastic, constructing common farm ponds and implementing measures to reduce evaporations.

But for now, the villagers are revelling in the fruits of their efforts. “There was a time when villagers used to migrate for work but today about 500 migrants from different states of India come to the village for labour work and earn an income. That’s how the tables have turned,” he says.

Edited by Yoshita Rao

In the villages surrounding Nashik, it is common to see children playing with slingshots. They use these to hurl stones at innocent birds that fly or chirp around them. It is not because they want to hurt or hunt the bird but because it is considered to be a game among the kids.

To address this problem, Indian Forest Service officer Anand Reddy, took to Twitter and raised a simple question — Will you punish the kid for doing so?

Here’s a dilemma..

You see a cute bird. And you see a cute kid. Then you see the kid kill the bird with this slingshot. Will you punish the kid?

This is very common in many villages in Nashik. It leads to empty forests – no birds, no chirping, no singing.
Only silence! pic.twitter.com/XDg85fcbz2

— Anand Reddy, IFS (@AnandReddyYellu) July 5, 2021

Though this can lead to empty and silent forests, punishing the child is not the solution. It is easy for children to make these slingshots and within one day they will have a new one.
So this is what the IFS Officer suggests instead:

Talk to the child
Explain how painful this is for the bird.
Make them promise not to hurt a bird again.
Finally, request them to voluntarily surrender their slingshot.

So how to make these innocent kids stop using galor (slingshot)?

By talking to each child.
By telling each kid how painful it is.
By making them promise never to use again.
By nudging them to “voluntarily #surrender Galor”

In short, by winning their hearts! ❤️ pic.twitter.com/ktxTIzjrM3

— Anand Reddy, IFS (@AnandReddyYellu) July 5, 2021

A month ago on World Environment Day, he started the initiative — ‘Galor Samarpan Abhiyan’, to encourage kids to voluntarily surrender their slingshots. Upon hearing the purpose of the initiative, green warriors assigned to villages worked day and night, even during the rains, to reach out to children.

“The strongest weapon a soldier takes to war is the reason WHY”

Once our green warriors found the purpose, they worked relentlessly – nights, weekends & in rains to reach out to every kid.

It was great to see true #Teameffort ! pic.twitter.com/oE6HjOvIid

— Anand Reddy, IFS (@AnandReddyYellu) July 5, 2021

Today, it has turned into a movement with more than 590 slingshots surrendered by children across 68 villages.

What started as a small initiative of ‘Galor Samarpan Abhiyan’ on this #environmentday, last 30 days were hugely heartening for me –

• 590 Galors were voluntarily surrendered until
• Kids from 68 villages took #pledge
• Some kids even reached out to staff to surrender! pic.twitter.com/BRwtVheYcj

— Anand Reddy, IFS (@AnandReddyYellu) July 5, 2021

Now, children themselves are taking this movement ahead to spread awareness among others in their village.

Anand writes, “Change a child, you’ll change a generation.”

Change a child, you’ll change a generation 🌱 pic.twitter.com/RXRHP46tRN

— Anand Reddy, IFS (@AnandReddyYellu) July 5, 2021

Anand concludes by saying, “Do not seize it [the slingshot] but try to win his heart through positive reinforcements. Give him a colouring book, a pen, or chocolates and ask him to do away with the practice. He might not do it today, but eventually he will (sic).”

Edited by Yoshita Rao

In July 2020, two villagers from a nomadic tribe in remote Mangaon from the Pune district of Maharashtra were diagnosed with COVID-19. A few days after recovery, they moved away from their location.

The incident became concerning for Suman Dhebe, an Accredited Social Health Activist (ASHA) health worker of Zilla Parishad, who had to find them for contact tracing.

As a part of the State Government’s door-to-door screening campaign, Maajhe Kutumb Maajhi Javabdari (My family, my responsibility) aimed to trace and identify potential carriers of COVID-19 and prevent the infection from spreading.

She learned about the new location of the infected from other villagers and climbed two mountains to find them.

Her dedication and sincerity were noticed by the senior Zilla Parishad officials, who applauded her efforts. Her devotion towards her work ensured that all the five villages, with a collective population of around 1,000, remained COVID free throughout the second wave.

But for the 42-year-old, she says accomplishing this feat is just “a part” of her job.

‘Climbing Mountains is Better Than COVID Scare’

For the past year, the resident of Pole village, starts her day at 8 am and treks 12-13 km to reach one of the other four villages assigned to her — Mangaon, Shirkoli, Thangaon and Ghodshet.

Her only companion is a bamboo stick to support her on complicated terrains. An occasional breeze blowing between mountains offers her a quick respite. “It is my job and I have accepted it as my responsibility to fulfil it with complete dedication,” she tells The Better India.

The health worker has been working since 2012 and is among 48 others in the Velhe taluka, caring for pregnant women, newborns and new mothers, mapping their health and ensuring their deliveries in government facilities.

Ayush Prasad, Chief Executive Officer (CEO) at Zilla Parishad, Pune, says, “There is one ASHA worker assigned for a population of 1,000. There are only population limits but no geographic lines defined while assigning the work.”

He adds that Suman’s taluka falls in the Western Ghats near the famous Rajgad and Torna fort. “Though most of the villages are motorable, there are settlements and habitations that require hours of trekking. And Suman has ensured reaching all of the remote places without cutting corners,” he explains.

Finding people and contact tracing, Ayush adds, becomes difficult when the population is spread widely between mountains.

But Suman says that her physically demanding job of climbing mountains is preferable to the COVID-19 scare. “I have always walked for 10 hours a day, reaching out to people in need. But when the pandemic hit, I felt scared. I left my house without worry. I feared for my family after returning home, and used to wonder what would happen if I contracted the disease today?” she adds.

Suman says she does not wear any protective gear and occasionally carries a sanitiser bottle while on the job. “I cannot wear a PPE kit and trek for hours. It would be unfeasible during the rains and poor weather conditions. I had to fight all the odds and ensure that every house was screened for COVID symptoms and conducted monthly health check-ups,” she adds.

Asked about her motivation and willingness to undertake a treacherous journey every day, she says, “I am the only person who can reach out to the villagers and help in case they contract COVID-19. They are a part of my community. I cannot be careless about their health and abandon them. Moreover, with less medical infrastructure, timely help will only save us in case of infection.”

Suman says that sometimes she feels lucky that there were no COVID-19 cases reported in the five villages. “I used to explain to people about following COVID-19 protocols, wearing a mask and washing their hands regularly. But once I left for the day, there was no one to monitor them. I only hoped that the villagers would listen to my instructions,” he adds.

A Social Commitment

Ayush credits the success of the COVID-free villages to Suman’s hard work. “During the second wave, the majority of the fines for violating the norms such as not wearing a mask or violating social distancing rules were collected from rural areas. Many migrants had returned home. Moreover, there are farmhouses and other settlements in far-off areas making the villagers vulnerable to infection from outsiders,” he shares.

He says that the rural population also suffer from comorbidities like blood pressure and diabetes. “Timely administration of medicine to control health parameters becomes important in such cases and cannot be achieved without regular visits. ASHA workers earn Rs 56,000 to Rs 60,000 per year. So, money is not the motivation here but pure social commitment. By guaranteeing 100% COVID-free villages, Suman has served as the best example on following COVID-19 appropriate behaviour,” he adds.

Ayush says to ease her physical challenges, the administration is putting efforts to provide her with a two-wheeler at affordable loans. “We are trying to use Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) funds to subsidise vehicular costs and provide some funds to her,” he adds.

But Suman says she is committed to performing her duty regardless of any help or support. “I signed up for the duty and agreed to perform all the responsibilities irrespective of the work conditions and risks. I have no complaints and will continue to perform until my age and health supports me,” she says.

Edited by Yoshita Rao

In Bihar’s Samastipur, farmers grow lychees and sell them in Pune, Maharashtra, located around 2,000 km away. Achieving this feat would require transporting the fruits via flight, with freight charges soaring upto Rs 25-30 per kilo, which makes it an expensive affair for the buyer.

However, farmers like Sudhanshu Kumar have been able to do so at the rate of Rs 12-15 per kilo. This is possible because he stores the harvest in cold storage and transports it via road, thereby reducing the cost by 30-40%, he says.

“The premium quality fruit remains fresh and ready to be consumed. Without cold storage, it’s not possible to reach a wide market, as fruits have a short shelf life, and will spoil,” he tells The Better India.

Like Sudhanshu, there are thousands of farmers across seven Indian states in India who are benefitting from cold storage facilities launched by a Pune-based startup, Ecozen Solutions. The startup ensures last-mile delivery to customers by retaining the nutrition and freshness of farm produce.

Ecozen Solutions was conceived in 2010 by IIT- Kharagpur alumni Devendra Gupta, Prateek Singhal and Vivek Pandey to offer solar-powered solutions. Initially, the company sold solar solutions such as lanterns, solar rooftops, and residential and LED street lighting, and later moved to offer innovative solar-powered agriculture products such as water pumping solutions.

‘Farmers get control over the market’

Devendra, CEO and co-founder, says the idea of this cold storage was born while he was working with farmers to provide them with irrigation solutions.

“Working closely with marginal farmers with small landholdings helped us realise that while they were benefiting by increasing productivity through innovative irrigation methods, they were unable to improve income,” he says, adding that the yield increased up to 2.5 times. But the per kilo price of sales remained the same.

He says that while trying to identify the reasons for this, the founders realised that the quality of farm produce deteriorated by the time it could reach the market. “The perishability of food became an issue, and we needed a one-point solution to maintain the quality of farm produce,” he adds.

Hence, by 2013-14, they built an Artificial Intelligence (AI) equipped, portable solar-powered standalone cold room – Ecofrost. The facility enables farm level pre-cooling of fruits, vegetables and flowers, allowing farmers to buy time to retain the quality of their produce and get the best possible rates from the market.

“We also started offering cold storage solutions for transporting produce to the market through IoT linkages,” Devendra explains.

Explaining the functionality of Ecozen, Devendra explains that the cold storage facility harnesses solar energy to make ice. The chamber keeps the produce fresh by controlling the humidity, moisture and other parameters, thereby increasing shelf life.

“We use the proprietary temperature heat exchanger mechanism to ensure that the desired temperatures are maintained at all times. When the sunlight is weak or the cooling is not under process, the device can retain optimal environment for up to 30 hours with battery-less backup,” he adds.

The facility can be monitored and controlled via an app.

Devendra says that India wastes about 16% of its food due to a weak supply chain. “These wastages are mainly due to lack of cold storage facilities where farmers fail to store their farm produce. They either sell it at a low price or let it go. We are targeting that segment and trying to reduce the damage and financial losses incurred by the farmers and subsequently Indian economy,” he says.

So far, the startup has set up 250 cold storage facilities, which have helped close to 72,000 farmers, including 40 farmer producer companies in states such as Maharashtra, Telangana, Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, Jharkhand, Chhattisgarh and Karnataka.

“The effort has helped to reduce losses of over 14,000 metric tonnes of agriculture produce, saved 225 million litres of diesel and abated 6,74,000 tons of Co2,” Devendra claims.

An increase in overall earnings

Manish More, a farmer from Maharashtra, says that using the cold storage facility has benefitted his income immensely. “The pre-cooling facility used in the cold storage helps remove the field heat from the farm produce. On the farm, vegetables, fruits, and flowers absorb heat and start deteriorating. Hence, controlling the field heat within four hours of the harvest becomes important,” he says, adding that this increases the produce’s shelf-life up to 1.5 times.

The farmer adds, “Prices for flowers usually remain at Rs 3-4 per piece, but on occasions such as Valentine’s Day or other festivals, these costs can suddenly shoot up to as high as Rs 20 per piece. Farmers can harvest and store the flowers for a week or more and sell the surplus in the market to increase their income. Such control over the sales is achievable only due to the facility.”

Manish says his total income has improved by 30%.

Farmers either buy the facility, which costs between Rs 5 lakh and Rs 15 lakh, depending on the size, or they lease it. “They buy the facility in groups or clusters by pooling in the money. The usage cost for farmers comes to Rs 1-2 per kilo of farm produce,” Devendra shares.

Speaking about the challenges, Devendra says that when they began, Ecozen was the only company offering this product in the market, so they found it hard to encash the gap. “The market was new, and not many were willing to invest. To overcome this, we decided to focus on the needs of the farmers by helping them market farm produce,” he adds.

Devendra says the company wants to scale up and achieve up to 600 metric tonnes of market linkages to reduce farm losses.

Edited by Divya Sethu

It was a face-off that Santoshi Survase from Maharashtra’s Latur district had to win at any cost. Her opponent was her husband, and the stakes were high. The end result was going to decide if her 10-year farming experience, self-confidence and knowledge were, in fact, a farce. 

Santoshi sowed different varieties of seeds on one acre of land and used the new organic farming technique she had learned. Meanwhile, her husband sowed seeds on the remaining four acres, used high-quality chemical fertilisers and enough water to possibly win the challenge. 

The challenge was to see whose farming technique gave more yield. If Santoshi lost, she would have to pay back the price of the seeds to her husband. But more importantly, she would have to part with her pride. 

Santoshi prepared quality vermicompost, sowed the seeds as per calculations, and irrigated them regularly. 

A year later, Santoshi’s land gave jowar, tomatoes, moong and brinjals, despite the drought-like situation. Meanwhile, the soybean that her husband had sown dried. He could barely salvage a small quantity. The following year, Santoshi implemented the technique on all five acres. 

Now, three years later, Santoshi is in charge of all farming-related decisions, and the financial situation of her family – husband and two children – have improved considerably. The Survases are earning Rs 3,00,000 annually, which is a 72% jump from what they were earning in 2018. 

Inspired by Santoshi, close to 20 women in her village, Mamdapur, have adopted this organic method, known as the ‘One Acre Model’. The model was developed by Swayam Shikshan Prayog (SSP). It is a Pune-based non-profit that promotes sustainable community development through empowerment of women in entrepreneurship and leadership roles.

Like Mamdapur, several villages across the Marathwada region, which happens to be the worst drought-affected area in India, have seen one-acre models thrive in the last decade. 

Marathwada reports nearly 400 suicides in the first six months of the year, as a majority of farmers here heavily depend on rain-fed agriculture. SSP’s model was developed keeping in mind the issues that farmers in this region face the most, including droughts, depleting water tables, pest attacks and rising temperatures. 

“Our focus was to empower women farmers by helping them shift to grain, pulses and vegetable farming,” says Tabassum Momin, Program Manager, SSP. “We wanted to make women self-sufficient to meet their food needs. We chose one acre as either these farmers have small holdings, or their families don’t trust them with the land, as was Santoshi’s case. With help of experts, we formulated a multi-cropping pattern that uses less water, more seed, is completely organic and comes with zero investment. The model is a success in the Marathwada region and incomes have doubled.” 

So what exactly is a one-acre model, and how does it work?

A multi-cropping system

Since most farmers in the Marathwada region practice a single-cropping system of cash crops such as cotton and soybean, drought or heavy rainfall can destroy the entire field, leaving the farmer with no livelihood. While a multi-cropping system requires more effort, it gives earnings even if some crop is damaged. 

“As per the Rabi and Kharif season, we divided the grains, vegetables, pulses and millets and calculated how many crops can be planted on the land. The combination of seeds is selected in a way that they aid each other’s growth. For instance, there are crops that keep pests at bay such as onions, garlic, radish, eggplant and tomatoes. The height of the plants vary as well to provide shade to one another, as well as allow the sunlight to percolate,” says Tabassum. 

She adds that raising multiple crops in close proximity will reduce the dependence on chemical fertilisers and soil fertility will improve.

SSP tested the seeds before distributing them to farmers to ensure quality, and calculated the quantity of compost to be used as per the germination rate. The kit that farmers are given to carry out this technique also includes Govan, a powder that can be sprinkled on the seeds to prevent pest attacks. 

In terms of cost, this would be zero budget farming from the second cycle, Tabassum says. The crops grown can be used for self-consumption which can save approximately Rs 46,000 on groceries and Rs 11,500 on chemical inputs yearly. The farmers save nutrient-rich seeds and sow them again for the next cycle, thus eliminating the need to buy more in future.

Meanwhile, the women are taught to prepare vermicompost at home and are even encouraged to sell it. Santoshi’s compost is widely preferred in her village so she has an extra revenue source. 

The experiments began with three groups each comprising 20 women. At present, close to 1,38,000 women farmers are reaping the benefits. 

A tool of empowerment  

The Better India speaks to Santoshi and Kalavati Pawar, who is from Yedola in Osmanabad, to know how their lives have changed. The duo has also inspired fellow villagers to adopt the model. 

“I am not educated but SSP gave me a chance to learn something that would improve my life. We were tired of taking loans and not being able to provide for our children. We struggled for water during scanty rainfalls,” Santoshi says. 

Explaining how she uses the technique, she adds, “I made a vermicompost bed from a recycled tarpaulin and installed sprinkles for better irrigation. The compost absorbs and retains water for a longer period, thus keeping the crops moist. So even if there is a drought, we just sprinkle some water, which will sustain. I grow brinjal, tomatoes, dals, leafy vegetables, pumpkin and more on a rotational basis. We get a one-kilo harvest per acre, and two kilos if it’s dal.” 

With the increased income, Santoshi has invested in her children’s education and purchased machines to make papads and generate more income. She even helps beginners set up composting beds and gives seeds and compost for free. More than the money she is earning, she is happy about spreading her knowledge. 

Meanwhile, for Kalavati, who is in her late thirties, it is a matter of honour, given that she wasn’t allowed to even step outside her home due to old customs. Her journey is all about finding her own identity and changing her family’s perception. 

“I joined SSP in 2016 and received training on cost-effective farming. Earlier, I was shy to talk to people, but now I teach them. I even learnt how to operate the internet and downloaded agriculture-related apps to boost my yield. Initially, my husband didn’t like all this but when he saw the yield outcome, he was a changed man. From just an acre I earn up to Rs 50,000 per cycle which is a lot compared to chemical farming. My daughter wants to study engineering or get into the police force. Now, at least I know I can afford the cost of her studies,” she adds. 

For women like Kalavati and Santoshi, who have been toiling hard under the sun for years only to get a meagre income, this one-acre model has not only improved their finances but even strengthened their role in the community. Farming may just be a profession for many, but for women in Marathwada, it is a tool of empowerment. 

Edited by Divya Sethu 

In May 2020, Nitin Ghule, a farmer from Nashik, Maharashtra, was preparing his agricultural land to cultivate monsoon crops. He planned to grow tomatoes, chillies and marigold, but realised that he had no access to labour to tend to his seven-acre land.

So he decided to spread mulching paper instead. This is a thin sheet made from polyethylene that is used to cover the soil and helps retain moisture, as well as maintain temperatures at the root level for improved microbial activity.

“But the process requires around a dozen labourers and rolls of mulching paper. It will also take 1.5 days to cover one acre of land. The COVID-19 lockdown meant that I could not source labour and taking a risk with a small number of workers was not recommended,” Nitin tells The Better India.

“If the land is not ready on time, it affects sowing and further leads to a late harvest. This, in turn, delays the farm produce before it reaches the market. It also decreases the income, as the demand has reduced by this time,” he explains.

To overcome this problem, the 28-year-old built a mulching paper spreader from scrap material, which does the job at one-third labour and requires half the time.

A small innovation becomes a big hit

Nitin says he tried to use a tractor and other equipment to spread the mulching paper. But the experiment failed and caused the paper to tear in the process.

He then found some spares in his backyard and approached a friend, who owned a workshop, with a prototype design.

“I bought some wheels and joints from a hardware shop and welded the pieces together according to my understanding. Within 15 days, the first design became ready for trials. But it did not work efficiently and needed improvements,” Nitin adds.

Nitin says that he made a device that needed two persons to operate. “I fit blades in the front and rear that spread the soil as the device moved. The blades in the front would spread the soil. The mulching paper would roll out simultaneously over the soil with its forward movement. The blades at the rear would cover the soil and set the paper underneath,” he explains. However, the rear blades did not perform well and needed reworking.

“I had used moulded scrap pieces and realised I needed a new design altogether. After a few iterations, I got it right,” Nitin says.

The device cost him Rs 7,000 to build. “I did all the welding work to save on labour, and incurred some expenditure in purchasing other parts,” he says.

Nitin says his final innovation was cost-effective and became a hit among other farmers.

“Usually, to spread the mulching paper on one acre of land requires 12 labourers, whose wages cost Rs 600 each. With their food expenses, final wages can amount up to Rs 8,000. However, I am offering the device at Rs 10,000, which is a one-time investment and requires only two labourers. The device can be folded and stored in a shed and has no costs apart from maintaining the tyre pressure. Moreover, spreading mulching paper with the device over one acre requires about eight hours, as against 1.5 days required otherwise. It is a win-win situation in all aspects,” he says.

Nitin adds that the machine eliminates the increased dependence on labourers. “If a farmer lives in a joint family or with members who can help him operate the machine, he would not require any external help to handle the machine,” he adds.

Nitin says he created a video and uploaded it on social media platforms, which made his device an instant hit. “Enquiries started pouring in, and I have close to 100 orders for now,” he adds.

He aims to come up with more innovative ideas to make working easier for farmers. “I am glad that I could solve my problems and now can help others in the process too,” he adds.

Edited by Divya Sethu

Recently, 28-year-old Raju Jijabai Aatmaram Kendre made headlines for winning the UK’s Chevening Scholarship in June this year. This is one of the most prestigious scholarships offered to international students and young changemakers looking to pursue higher studies in the country.

Raju, who received a scholarship worth Rs 45 lakh to cover all his expenses, arguably became one of the few, if not the first, students coming from a Marathi-medium school and a nomadic tribe in the heart of Maharashtra to receive this scholarship. Today, he runs the Eklavya Movement, an organisation that aims to bring mainstream education to the grassroots through the right guidance. In the last four years since its inception, Eklavya has helped over 125 underprivileged students pursue higher education and prestigious fellowships. Some have gone on to start their own enterprises.

Raju’s organisation is the result of the hardships he saw throughout his life. Hailing from a village named Pimpri Khandare in Vidarbha’s Buldhana district in Maharashtra, his parents, belonging to the Warkari community, are farmers who studied till Class 4. They were forced to drop out of school due to financial constraints.

“In our tribe, child marriage is quite commonplace. My mother wanted to study but couldn’t due to those traditions. But my parents ensured that my brother and I had access to education. After my brother was married, they even helped my sister-in-law complete her graduation. My brother and I are the first-generation graduates in our family,” Raju tells The Better India.

A burning desire to drive change

Growing up, Raju pursued his education with an aim to do something that would help him serve society. First, he thought about pursuing medicine, but later changed his mind to integrate himself into civic administration. “There are millions in India like my parents. I wanted to do something for them,” he notes.

After he completed Class 12, Raju went to Pune to prepare for competitive exams. However, a lack of awareness, mentorship and financial support led to him to fail. So he took admission in an open university and left Pune. While he had been preparing for the competitive exams, he had visited the Melghat region in Amravati, where he saw how an NGO named Maitri organise an event called ‘Dhadak Mohim’ every year during the monsoon, which aims to reduce child mortality and malnutrition in the region. Raju joined the movement as a volunteer and formed a network of thousands of volunteers across Maharashtra.

His experience with this NGO, alongside the struggles he faced to pursue his own education, left Raju with a burning desire to engage in social work. He tried briefly to find a stable source of income, including a job at a call centre, but says his heart was never into it. He left it behind and spent two years working with various organisations to work towards grassroot changes. As he met more volunteers from all over the country, he was told about the Tata Institute of Social Sciences (TISS).

Raju pursued his post graduation in Social Work & Rural Development at TISS Tuljapur, where he worked for the education of children across various villages. “My experience with TISS and working in Melghat left me with a better understanding of how much untapped potential there is in tribal communities. Whether it’s sports or education, there’s a lot to unfurl at the grassroots, but the people belonging to these communities don’t have the right platform,” he explains.

“The memories of my brother having to cycle for 12 kilometres just to get to school, my parents struggling to make ends meet, and the experiences I encountered during my years of social work led me to start Eklavya Movement,” Raju says.

Eklavya provides mentorship, training and guidance to first-generation learners from underprivileged communities with non-English medium backgrounds to pursue higher education. Raju notes, “An understanding of rural development will come from lived experiences. Living in urban cities will give you limited knowledge on that front. So our idea is to shape leaders at the grassroots who are trying to bring change. Higher education needs diversity,” he says.

Mentoring grassroot leadership

In Yavatmal’s Galwah village, Gopal Gofane completed his primary education in his native village and relocated to Amravati to pursue his junior college. However, since he came from a Marathi-medium school, he faced a massive language barrier. “I was mentally stressed and my academic performance was affected. My parents insisted I leave my education and join a local hardware store to earn money,” he says.

At 18, Gopal was travelling 15 kilometres a day between his home and the store. On his way, he would spot young kids holding bags and books heading to and from college. He wanted to be one of them. In search of guidance, he met Eklavya’s team. He participated in a few scholarships and overcame his fears surrounding communication. Today, Gopal has gained admission in the Gandhi Research Foundation for a one-year course.

Raju says, “We just want to provide them with the right support and direction so that they can realise their own dreams. Traditional universities lack a critical approach. Kids are not encouraged to even ask questions. In fact, sometimes they don’t even know what questions to ask. So we want to cover these gaps.”

“When you look at big organisations that have a worldwide reach working for marginalised sections, who are leading these? These organisations deserve leaders that come from the communities they’re working for. Farmer suicides are rampant in Vidarbha, while people are writing a report about it in Delhi. You need a farmer’s kid on your committee who can help you grasp the real picture, right?” he explains. “And it’s not just the development sector. Law, media, arts or culture — all sectors require grassroots leadership.”

Speaking about the challenges Raju faces while running Eklavya, he says, “Financial support is the biggest challenge. One Raju Kendre by himself won’t be able to bring enough change. We run a small centre that has influenced 100-200 kids, but we need to expand. I think we need to start at least four-five centres in the next five years or so, but we need financial support for that. People often call me to start these centres across various parts of Maharashtra, but unless I have the funds, that will be hard for me to do. We need a permanent centre where students can come and stay and have adequate time and resources at their disposal. We also need adequate human resources and infrastructure.”

Another problem is convincing the students to pursue higher education in the first place. “There’s a lot of hesitation in these children because of cultural or language barriers and financial constraints. They don’t think they can move outside their villages or districts to go to bigger cities. There’s a sense of inferiority because they find it hard to articulate their thoughts,” Raju explains. “We just tell them, ‘You study hard and leave the rest to us. We will take care of you’.”

Raju says that he too finds himself in such precarious spots sometimes. “I find it hard to articulate my own thoughts in English. I gave an interview for a university around three years ago and I cried when I came out, because I was unable to speak to the panel,” he notes.

Speaking about his scholarship, Raju says it took him a long time to get here. “I approached many organisations, trusts and universities for help. But the amount they offered was not enough to cover my expenditure for going abroad. My father once even considered selling our farm but we knew even that wouldn’t be enough. I have cried and felt disheartened several times,” he recalls. “Many big platforms and schemes across India rejected me because my degree was in a vernacular language from an open university.”

He adds, “Our system lacks the awareness that scholarships such as Chevening need to reach students in the remotest corners of the country.”

Raju says this scholarship will also be the base on which he builds his dream of empowering several first-generation students like him. Meanwhile, Eklavya is working on building a more robust team so that by 2030, they have covered all parts of Maharashtra through their centres. “We want to work with 1,000 children across the region. Till now, we have focussed on post graduation but now we will work with undergraduates as well,” he says.

“This scholarship is not for me alone — I am dedicating it to millions of first-generation learners,” Raju says.

You can reach out to Raju or Eklavya through LinkedIn, Facebook, Instagram or Twitter. You can also learn more about them via YouTube or their website. 

Edited by Yoshita Rao

Yog Panjarale from Maharashtra’s Nandurbar has always seen his father wake up at odd hours to farm. In a region where electricity supply is erratic and often only available at night, this has now become part of his father’s routine.

Farming is a 24×7 job and crops need irrigation. Sleep would have to wait.

The 15-year-old boy from Talode village was pained to see his father Dr Suryakant wake up at night three times a week and ride 6 km away to his farm, only to switch on the motor and enable irrigation.

An opportunity to ease Dr Suryakant’s situation arrived in 2020, when Yog started taking online coding lessons during the COVID-19 lockdown. “I had free time and decided to develop additional skills. After finishing the course, I felt I could use what I had learned to help my father,” he says.

Yog developed a device and an app that would allow his father to operate a water motor remotely, without having to step out of the house. The device is designed to operate on a mobile app that uses a cellular network to communicate and obey commands at one’s fingertips.

Saving lakhs of litres of water

“My father was making a half an hour round trip to press only one switch. Moreover, the family members worried until he returned from the farm as there were chances of snakes or other animals attacking during the night,” Yog tells The Better India.

Yog says that he spent Rs 4,000 to buy raw material and electronics and build a device. Then, he connected the device with the switch of the motor. To operate the same, he coded an app – Farmer Helper.

The app enables the user to switch on or shut the motor, schedule timings, and operate lights in the motor room.

This move has not only given Dr Suryakant peaceful nights, but also helps save water and electricity.

Dr Suryakant says, “I used to switch on the motor at 9 pm or later when electricity was available and did not return to switch off until morning. The crops need water only for two to three hours, but the water kept running overnight.”

He adds that the 8 hp water pump releases 1,20,000 litres of water an hour. “But with low groundwater level, it lifts 40,000 litres. This way, the motor ran for hours, wasting lakhs of litres of water in a month. Moreover, it costs electricity to run the motor overnight. But now, both electricity and water are being saved,” Dr Suryakant explains. “I can also spend more time with my family and not have to keep worrying about crops,” he adds.

Yog’s innovation also became known among friends and relatives, who asked him to make it for them. “Yog has bagged six orders for the device, and it makes me proud that besides me, he will be able to help the farming community at large,” Dr Suryakant says.

However, Yog says there are more aspects he needs to work on. “I want to include more features which will allow measuring soil moisture and temperature. The next step will be to automate it, so that the sensors trigger irrigation when the parameters go below the prescribed limits and maintain optimum conditions for the crops,” he says, adding that then he will be able to market and commercialise it.

Yog says that the Internet of Things (IoT) technology is easing operations in various sectors, and it is time farmers reap benefits from it. “I hope to develop more apps that will help the farmers and benefit the environment,” he adds.

Edited by Divya Sethu

Nestled in the Sahyadri mountain ranges is an eco-friendly homestay, where one can find themselves surrounded by a 360-degree view of green landscapes while sipping on a cup of joe. Fluffy clouds glide past every now and then, and the whistling of birds and insects occasionally punctures the air.

There’s no cell phone network or WiFi to disturb the tranquillity. The homestay, Banyan Bliss, sounds like it might be in the middle of nowhere, but is in fact only a two-hour drive from Mumbai and Pune to Vasunde village.

The homestay offers a glimpse of a life of sustainability. The rooms are located right under the expanding branches of a 100-year-old banyan tree that sits on the edge of a hill in Khopoli.

While the place has seen thousands of guests since 2009, owners Viinod Nair and Beena say they never intended to enter the hospitality industry in the first place.

‘The ideal spot for a digital detox’

Viinod says he bought the land in 2007 to build a weekend home for his family. “The 1.25-acre land was barren with just one banyan tree and we were still contemplating on how to go about developing it.”

But while thinking of how to shape their family home, in 2009, Viinod suffered a heart attack. When he recovered, he decided to retire and make the land their permanent home.

Viinod says that the incident was an eye-opener for him. “I was in the field of advertising in Mumbai and spent 18 hours a day at work. Life was stressful and this affected my health. I felt like leaving the urban life for good and living far away from city life. So I chose to spend the rest of my life here,” adds the 67-year-old.

He and his wife Beena decided to build a family house under the banyan tree. It would also accommodate their two sons and daughter.

By 2014, the couple built four rooms using vernacular architecture made from rammed earth, clay tiles and a thatched roof. The doors and windows were carved from recycled wood and the rooms have rustic wood furniture, sans air-conditioners or televisions. However, there are books to keep one occupied.

The place has an organic garden and vermicompost pit. It also features a rainwater conservation system along with an indigenous drip irrigation layout to water the vegetation.

Guests are to bring their own towels and toiletries. “We do not allow single-use plastic water bottles, and visitors are expected to use their own bottles and refill them at the common water filter near the kitchen,” Viinod says.

“While it was built for the family, one day, our children asked us to put up the property as a homestay on Facebook. But we had no such thought in mind. Moreover, we also lacked experience in this area. So we both refused the idea, but our kids had already made the post live, with pictures and contact details. Within days, we received a request from guests, and then we did not know what to do,” Beena tells The Better India.

She adds that the couple scrambled to procure supplies and prepare the place to welcome the guests in time. Beena was assisted by the family’s help, Sanjay, to cook meals and fulfil kitchen requirements. “The guests appreciated their stay at our home, and referred it to others,” says the 65-year-old.

This was their first tryst with tourists looking to escape bustling lives temporarily, and since then, there has been no looking back.

The number and frequency of guests increased over time and the couple had to move out of their designated rooms and build a separate cottage on the premises. So far, Beena and Viinod have served over 6,000 guests.

“The number of referrals increased, and continue to do so till date. More than 50% of our guests come back. The remaining mainly comprise the younger generation, who wish to indulge in a detox from city life and technology,” Viinod says, adding that he is not listed on any tourism portals and has only social media pages apart from the website.

“The guests come from referrals or learn about us on social media posts put up by their friends. We have 15-20 guests waiting at any given time,” he says.

Mumbai-based Ajay Takalkar, a frequent visitor of Banyan Bliss, says, “I have visited the homestay at least 25 times in the last seven years. The place is bliss during monsoons, and the staff is polite and friendly.”

Ajay says the reason that his family keeps returning to the homestay is the quiet environment and disconnect from the city life. “No cell phones are ringing to bother you during the vacation. Any follow-up message or an email ruins the essence. The place is ideal for creative thinking and detoxing. A couple of waterfalls, a short trek in the village Behri with a rock temple and the Amba river, along with Viinod’s two dogs keep my daughter entertained and connected with nature,” he adds.

He says that like any child, his daughter is also fond of cell phones and gadgets, but visiting the homestay does not make her feel deprived of technology. “There are many homestays that we have tried over the years, but Banyan Bliss delivers the experience in a true sense. The staff cook fresh food that is homely and does feel like hotel food,” he adds.

Ajay adds that he ensures he takes multiple weekend trips every year, or takes time out of his hectic professional life for short vacations at the homestay whenever possible.

To cater to the increasing number of guests, Viinod and Beena have experimented with a cob house made from earth materials and put it in their recent additions. The accidental initiative has brought them much success and satisfaction in their venture. But Viinod says that building the place was a challenging task.

Co-existing with nature

“Initially, friends and family doubted how an ageing couple that had always led a city life would manage in a rural area with no basic facilities or medical care,” Viinod recalls.

He says that earning acceptance from locals and the tribal community also took time and convincing. “The land was barren and rocky. We planted native trees with the knowledge we learned from the locals. We used organic methods to improve soil fertility and increase the survival rate of the plants. There was no water in the area, so for the first three years, we sourced it from the river by driving down the hill,” he adds.

Viinod says architects refused to work on building an eco-friendly set-up for them. “The profits are less, as the costs of amenities are cut down, and the time required to establish such structures is more. They agreed to build a concrete house but disagreed on using sustainable and traditional practices. But we were adamant about what we wanted in terms of sustainability, and eventually, a few volunteered to help us to build a home without harming the environment,” he adds.

Beena says that she has learned a lot about the environment. “Earlier, we used to run behind insects or lizards to kill them, because that is what we learn in the city. But the locals made us realise to let go and casually shoo them off instead. Now lizards are natural pests and insect controllers for us. We have become humble towards nature,” she adds.

She adds that she experimented with creating a Miyawaki forest on 1,000 square feet of land and has achieved success. “I planted 300 native trees, but 250 survived. The plants have grown almost 20 feet in height over the last two-and-a-half years. We are working towards creating a greener environment,” she says, adding that she knows more about plants and species now than she did during her life in Mumbai.

“Living amidst nature requires you to be a sponge. There is so much to absorb and learn from it. We are both reverse ageing here,” she says.

The couple is working to create an eco-community with like-minded people. “Many of the guests from the younger generation wish to work towards sustainability and adopt environmentally friendly practices. We are joining hands to create an eco-village to inspire others and show that it is possible to live sustainably,” she adds.

Beena says that bringing city-dwellers closer to nature gives her satisfaction. “For some, we are uncle and aunty. For kids, we become grandma and grandad. I think that is the reason guests keep visiting us because they feel like it is a home away from the city or an experience they expect while visiting their ancestral village,” she adds.

To contact Banyan Bliss for booking a stay, click here. 

Edited by Divya Sethu

Extreme weather conditions such as hailstorms, heavy rains, floods and droughts are impacting Indian agriculture heavily, and have cost the industry losses worth millions of rupees. .

While nature’s fury is beyond humanity’s control, farmers can benefit by reducing losses if they are given warning signs to brace for rough weather accordingly.

A former scientist from Maharashtra, working at NASA (National Aeronautics and Space Administration) is taking concerted efforts for the cause precisely.

In 2003, Dr Parag Narvekar (43), a native of Nashik, completed his post-graduation, specialising in image processing technology, from IIT Bombay. He joined NASA to develop new Earth observing satellite technology and data processing solutions.

Dr Parag tells The Better India, “Data collected by using satellites via sensors needs decoding. Beyond its primary data gathering, it can present ancillary information such as topography, soil type, vegetation, moisture and other parameters.”

Dr Parag says that this data has immense potential to benefit agriculture. Hence, in 2016, he decided to return to his roots and help farmers. “Farmers are the foundation of any economy, and if the community can be supported and made resilient, it will help the country prosper,” he adds.

He used his skills, knowledge and network to collaborate with a team of scientists at NASA, IIT-Bombay, Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO), Indian Institute of Science (IISc, Bengaluru), the European Space Agency and the Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency (JAXA). He constructed a low-cost weather station that offers crucial information to farmers.

Making satellite data accessible to farmers

In 2017, Dr Parag launched his company, Sensartics Pvt Ltd, to offer three models of a weather station that will assist farmers in various aspects of agriculture. He collaborated with Sahyadri Farms, a Farmer Producer Company working with farmers on the ground.

Parag explains that the sensors in these devices help monitor soil, canopy, humidity, and leaf moisture, as well as diagnose early stages of diseases. The farmer receives an alert to intervene and take necessary action.

“The weather station provides advanced information on aspects such as water management, cold wave, nutrient management, wind direction, photosynthesis and plant transpiration. The advanced version can cover a radius of 5 km and can be used by a group of farmers together,” he says, adding that the information can be accessed and monitored on a smartphone via an app.

The company offers three models in weather stations, namely, Scalar station, Tracer station and Master station. They cost between Rs 10,000 and Rs 60,000.

“The other weather stations in the market range from Rs 25,000 to Rs 2.5 lakh. However, ours are more efficient and cost far less, making it affordable to marginal farmers,” Dr Parag says.

Ganesh Kadam, a farmer from the Mohadi area near Nashik, says, “I have been using the weather station since 2018, and it has helped me save water and track soil moisture levels. It also gives timely warnings about diseases such as downy, powdery mildew, taxa and thrips.”

He adds, “During extreme rain in February 2020, the weather station predicted that my grape vineyard would see less losses than what had been anticipated. During the night, the fruits would become cold, and the morning sunlight would then cause them to crack due to the extreme heat difference. This would lead to the fruits getting spoiled. Usually, I’d spray chemicals on them as a precautionary measure. But the app told me that the temperature would not rise the next day.”

Ganesh says this prediction was accurate, and that it prevented him from spraying massive amounts of chemicals on his grapes unnecessarily. “I saved cost and time, as well as the immense quantity of chemicals that would have gone on the crops,” he adds.

Dr Parag says that over 40 farmers are already benefiting from the weather stations, and an additional 250 have booked their orders.

“India has rich weather and biodiversity. The climatic conditions are favourable. If the farmers have access to the appropriate technical support for precision farming, it can bring revolution in the agriculture sector,” Dr Parag notes.

Edited by Divya Sethu

When I was studying in the United Kingdom in 2016, I was perplexed by my friend’s request. She was uncomfortable using the pens from the shops on our university campus and insisted on buying an Indian brand, but could not find any.

“Usi se mera handwriting acha ayega [That’s the only pen brand that will enable me to write well]” — she was talking about the Cello gripper.

She was so adamant that we ended up couriering the pens from India. It was then that I realised the power of a brand.

In another instance, Pune-based Soumitra Khanwelkar, who has a vivid memory of the Cello water bottle, tells The Better India, “I remember my parents carrying a water bottle with the cap that had a slim steel chain attached to its body that prevented it from falling off. The water bottle accompanied us during all our long train journeys and road trips.”

Today, Cello Group enjoys a significant market share but not many might know it had a humble beginning with a Polyvinyl Carbonate (PVC) footwear and bangle manufacturing unit in Goregaon, Mumbai, in 1967. Back then, it had seven machines and 60 workers.

Over the years, the company has diversified into a range of 1,700 products in various categories, making it one of the biggest brands in India. Currently, the company with a 50,000 retail network has 6,000 employees and clocks a revenue of Rs 1,500 crore per annum.

Leaving Its Mark Across Generations

Speaking with The Better India, Gaurav Rathod, the third generation entrepreneur in the family-run business, says that his late grandfather Ghisulal Rathod ventured into the plastic business. “Plastic products were gaining popularity in every household. The steel, brass and other items were heavy and unreliable, depending on their quality and cost. On the other hand, the plastic products were lighter, cheaper and more durable,” he says.

Gaurav says that along with footwear and bangles, it produced plastic items for other companies. However, it was only in the 1980s that the business scaled up and started diversifying its product range.

“My grandfather was working with different partners and the business was unorganised. Moreover, considering the huge market demand, he felt the need for expansion. He thought that instead of manufacturing products for other companies, he should create an individual brand. So, he bought a small plastic company in the city and coined the term ‘Cello’,” the 33-year-old adds.

Cello became popular for its flagship products of casserole dishes. “My grandfather learned about them during his trip to the USA. He saw how Americans stored food in small round-shaped plastic containers that remained warm for hours. He realised that the product suited Indian lifestyle and launched it in India in the late 1980s,” he says, adding that it was probably the first plastic product to enter the Indian kitchen.

In the 90s, the company diversified into plastic moulded furniture and later evolved into different segments such as steelware, glassware, kitchen appliances, melamine and cleaning products.

Gaurav explains the reason for diversification is that the company originated by adapting to the demands of the customers and is constantly evolving even today.

“It was my uncle who realised that pens made from 90 per cent plastic could be explored as a product for better opportunities in the market. Deeming it as a lucrative business, he launched products that found its place in the stationery kits of the students,” he proudly says, adding that the products such as Cello gripper, Cello fine grip, Cello maxwriter, and Cello butterflow became names to reckon with for students. In 2009, the company sold its wing to Bic.

In the early 2000s, the company sensed the customer behaviour inching towards steel. It then blended steel and plastic to sell steel flasks and bottles. “Suddenly, steel was back in trend, and so we created a ‘cross product’ with new designs and looks. The customers widely accepted products like bottles, jars, casseroles, lunch packs, which had steel within and were insulated with an outer layer of plastic,” he says.

Eventually, the company created its space in non-stick cookware, pans, grills, toasters, coffee makers, grinders, blenders, kettles and more. “The 60-year-old group has become one of the most recognised brands in the country, as every Indian household has probably at least one Cello product in their home. We have touched across all demographics and generations,” he adds.

Cello entered into newer segments such as glassware in 2014 and opal ware during 2017. It also exports 15 per cent of its products to countries in the Middle East, Europe and South America.

‘Diversification Helps a Brand Sustain’

“The continuous evolving of the brand also helps it survive through challenges,” he says. Citing an example, Gaurav says that during the COVID-19 pandemic, the sale of cleaning equipment such as mops increased by 100 per cent. “It is because we existed in the category the company could benefit from the sales. Such diversification has helped the company sustain even today,” he says.

Gaurav notes that, say, out of the 10 products manufactured by the company, only three might take off, but those products are enough to support the enterprise. “For example, our recent Cello Puro water bottle became a hit as the size, price, and design suited our customers perfectly. Steel insulation became the preferred choice with the ‘plastic-free’ conscientiousness. It kept the beverage warm and cold as desired. People bought it on impulse as it served their purpose,” he adds.

“Changing customer needs is another recurring challenge and part of any business’ journey. Our job is to anticipate the changing perceptions and be ahead of the curve. Over the years, our product designs have changed and the loud colours have mellowed to neutral or subtle pastel colours,” he says.

Gaurav says that the company plans to continue diversifying and bring the production costs lower. “We aim to enhance and build consumer connections across different segments and strengthen our market presence. We will keep evolving with changing times and bring in more professionals and experts while steering away from a ‘family-run’ business model. This will ensure that our brand lives on, whether we are a part of it or not,” Gaurav says.

(Edited by Yoshita Rao)

In 2010, Bhaktaraj Garje, a native of Ahmednagar in Maharashtra, moved to Kulalwadi in Sangli district to take up a job as a primary school teacher. But his enthusiasm for his first job and motive to groom the future generations soon waned out.

There were two dilapidated classrooms and 97 students with a decreasing interest in academics, as they hardly attended school. “They remained absent for 6-8 months in a year, and it became difficult to follow up with the lessons and complete the syllabus on time,” he tells The Better India.

Despite his efforts to urge the students with innovative teaching methods, their attendance remained low.

Little did he know that the answer to his problem lay in planting trees and harvesting water.

Reconnecting with nature

When he dived deeper into his quest, Bhaktaraj realised that it was the water scarcity and migrant worker parents of students that hampered the education of his students.

However, over the past decade, he has taken concerted efforts to unshackle the villagers from the bonds of drought by conserving crores of litres of water every year and boost agriculture production to bring prosperity to the village.

“The region falls in the rain shadow region and receives about 300 mm of annual rainfall. The water shortage compelled the villagers to migrate with children and work as farm labourers in other parts of the state for their survival,” the 33-year-old says.

With only eight trees on the school premises in 2011, Bhaktaraj started planting saplings on the campus. He also taught his students the importance of trees in the environment and encouraged them to follow the practice at school and home.

“We planted 1,000 trees until 2016. A major boost came when the Paani Foundation, an initiative of Bollywood actor Aamir Khan, announced the ‘water cup competition’ to encourage water conservation in the village. I then urged the villagers to participate in the same. The members of the foundation explained the guidelines and conducted workshops,” he says.

Bhaktaraj says that some villagers became convinced and decided to support him. “Villagers started contributing money and slowly started volunteering by digging trenches, building boulders, small check dams and other water conservation structures to arrest rainwater,” he adds.

The villagers completed work to store 2.3 lakh cubic meters equivalent to 23 crore litres of water. “One bout of rain could save and percolate crores of litres of water. We also planted an additional 3,500 trees in barren land around the village,” he says.

Bhaktaraj says the villagers spent the next three years protecting the plants, ensuring their survival. “The land is rocky, and to ensure that water seeps in, we put sand in the pipe along with the roots and allow efficient watering of the plants. Agriculture techniques like the use of dry leaves and agriculture waste were laid as mulching and prevented water evaporation,” he explains.

The villagers also used organic fertilisers like the jeevamrut, a mixture made from gram flour, cow dung, cow urine, jaggery and water that helps increase the microbial activity and nutritional value in the soil.

Bhaktaraj says as the news about his conservation efforts spread to international waters, and some donors from the USA and the UK donated Rs 3 lakh for the cause. “The villagers contributed from Rs 200 to Rs 1,000, and the total amount came close to Rs 10 lakh. In 2018 and 2019, the village won Rs 8 lakh in terms of awards from the Paani Foundation. The residents invested the prize money to carry out the water conservation works that have now transformed the village,” he says.

Looking at their success, the forest department also planted one lakh saplings around 190 hectares. An additional 20,000 saplings of fruit-bearing trees were planted in the common land of 22 hectares by the social forestry department. A local NGO Youth for Jath also extended support to build farm ponds for the village.

Bhaktaraj says the overall conservation efforts for tree plantation and water harvesting has brought greenery to the once dry and barren village. “There was a time when the villagers couldn’t practice agriculture. Today, the village has 25,000 fruit-bearing trees in 500 orchards,” he adds.

The migration of the villagers for work has reduced by 20 per cent, and the number of students attending school has increased to 245. “The two classrooms started falling short of space, and now we have eight more with other infrastructure facilities like a playground. The number of teachers has increased from two to nine,” he says.

Mohan Guldagad, a farmer with a 5-acre land, says, “Bhaktaraj came as a blessing to the village. The residents didn’t know the importance of plants or water conservation. On the contrary, the locals grazed their cattle on the saplings, vegetation or uprooted them. The teacher took immense efforts to educate the villagers.” He adds that the farmers undertake the harvesting of two crops a year now and practice horticulture too.

He adds that the mindset of the villagers have changed to the extent that they take additional efforts to protect and water the new plantations. “The locals have developed a connection towards the environment,” he says.

He further adds that the groundwater levels that were once depleted up to 400 feet have increased to 40 feet. “The villagers were tired of irregular supply of water and to rely on tankers. They entered into conflicts for water. However, the wells are filled up to the brim this season. The surplus water availability has put an end to all our woes and benefited every village,” Mohan says.

Budgeting Water

Speaking of the challenges of his feat, Bhaktaraj says, “The residents are mainly uneducated, and explaining to them the benefits of the environment and its role for human survival was a challenge. Hence, I focussed more on students, teaching them through drawings and other interactive content. The workshops helped to give confidence to the villagers.”

The village is now moving towards water budgeting and has now shifted focus to organic farming. “We are drawing up a plan where the villagers will take up crops, depending on the amount of rainfall received in a particular year and the water availability. The water budgeting will help to prevent exploitation of surface and groundwater without affecting the livelihood of people,” he says.

On a parting note, Bhaktaraj says that no village should wait for outside support to overcome its problems. “The villagers united and contributed to help themselves. Water conservation is not rocket science but traditional knowledge executed scientifically. So, it is only through sheer willpower and dedicated efforts that can help any village to overcome the water crisis.”

Edited by Yoshita Rao

One day in 1957, Bollywood legend Shammi Kapoor was walking down the lanes of Pune after the premiere of his film Tumsa Nahi Dekha at Alpana Talkies (then called Shirin), when he noticed several people crowding around one shop.

Curiosity prompted him to see what this was all about. When he went to the spot to inspect, he found that the source of interest was a modest tea shop.

“He ordered a cup of tea and immediately asked for another – he loved it so much. Shammiji then offered to pay, but my father refused,” recalls Chandrashekhar Nartekar, owner and fourth generation entrepreneur of Aadya Amruttulya, a tea shop on the Sonya Maruti Chowk in Budhwar Peth area.

It wasn’t just Shammi Kapoor that fell in love with the wholesome cup of tea served in this tiny store – the who’s who of Bollywood, alongside politicians and freedom fighters have come to love this 97-year-old shop. “Over the years, Mohammed Rafi, Asha Bhosale, Lata Mangeshkar, Johny Lever, Dada Kondake, Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, Sharad Pawar, late Balasaheb Thackeray, and so many more have visited us and enjoyed our tea. Sometimes to refresh their senses after a tiring day, other times to gather for casual discussions,” Chandrashekhar (58) tells The Better India.

He explains that the reason this humble tea shop attracted such glamorous clientele is that it’s located right opposite Melody Makers, a recording studio frequented by celebrities during filmmaking. “They’d visit during breaks or order as per their convenience. But everyone preferred our tea,” he says proudly.

Brewing the ‘nectar of immortality’

Interestingly, the Nartekar family never belonged to Pune and did not always carry this last name. The family instead has their roots about 950 km away, in Rajasthan. They only entered the tea business for survival, but are today the reason why the word ‘Amruttulya’ is synonymous with tea, as well as for its evolution into a renowned brand over the years.

Chandrashekhar says that his great-grandfather Pannalal Nartekar (Thakur) belonged to Narta village of Jalore district, and moved with his family of four children and a wife in the 1880s.

He migrated for better work prospects and saw an opportunity in making thandai. “Pune was then famous for its wrestling training centres, locally called akhadas. The wrestlers here consumed thandai, which is a mixture of dry fruits and a tinge of bhang (cannabis) for energy. It improved their performance,” Chandrashekhar says.

So Pannalal set up shop at Rameshwar Chowk in 1896, where he began serving thandai, and business soared. Simultaneously, he began a tea business because, “Thandai and tea compliment each other,” Chandrashekhar says.

However, in 1924, the British banned the use of cannabis, and Pannalal stopped selling thandai. He instead focussed his business on only tea, and purchased a 300 square feet space for Rs 300 at Sonya Maruti Chowk, where the shop stands today.

On 27 July 1924, on the auspicious day of Ashadi Ekadashi, the business was christened as Aadya Amruttulya. Aadya means ‘first’ or ‘pratham’ in Sanskrit, and the latter indicates ‘equivalent to amrut’ or the ‘nectar of immortality’. “The tea refreshed the minds and souls of people, as if giving them a new life after a tiring day,” Chandrashekhar says. Thus Pune received its first ‘amruttulya’.

He adds that the tea was made from a unique tea powder they sourced from Kerala and Assam, and was prepared in sweetened milk from a local dairy. The mix was then boiled to the desired thickness in a brass vessel.

But it was a special homemade tea masala that added a different taste altogether. “This masala was a mix of cardamom, cinnamon and other spices. It was a homemade powder that the family used every day, and Pannalal brought it into the business. Instead of a conventional tea filter, he used a white cotton cloth to filter the tea. The people loved it,” he adds.

Pannalal brewed tea in front of the customers – he would sit on a mattress with the cash counter, a handwritten menu, and a small temple within a hand’s reach. He put up an aluminium frame structure to guard the set-up, while the customers drank their tea on benches cramped together. The tea was made fresh in batches throughout the day, and this practice continues to date.

Chandrashekhar says the shop continues to use the 97-year-old recipe and the skills have been handed down the generations. “We make the tea masala at home in weekly batches for its freshness. The taste has remained the same over the years,” he says.

Only two of Pannalal’s sons, Bhavanishankar and Vishwanath, continued the business while the other two, Hansraj and Durgashankar, followed priesthood.

Eventually, only Vishwanath pursued the tea business. Vishwanath’s son Khubchand followed suit, and at present, Chandrashekhar and his brother Vijay are the only members in the family continuing the legacy.

Aadya Amruttulya serves a variety of teas, namely black, sada, and fakkad tea, made from boiled milk and special tea priced between Rs 15 and 25. The shop also sells coffee, special coffee, black coffee and other snack items.

“We received abundant love and support from the citizens of Pune. The business thrived and in its glory days, had a staff of 22, serving tea to the never-ending crowds. We blended with the locals the way sugar dissolves in milk. My grandfather adopted the last name Nartekar after the name of our village,” Chandrashekhar says.

Encapsulating the allure of the store, Anupam Barve, a resident of Narayan Peth, says, “I remember my father making a quick stop at the tea stop whenever we left home early for travel. He also frequently stopped for a cup after a tiring day at work before coming home.”

Anupam says that he preferred the tea shop because smoking was not allowed here, because this was the ideal place to socialise.

An abundance of love for almost a century

The name became so popular that others in the tea business started adopting it as well. “There were over 700 such ‘amruttulyas’ mushrooming in the city, which has slowly faded to about 50-odd at present. Today, tea chains like Yewale Amruttulya, Saiba Amruttulya and others in the city continue the tradition,” Chandrashekhar says, adding, “We have no competition against anyone, and we have confidence in our quality and service. We need not fear any of them. Instead, we feel proud that the name our family coined has become associated with tea, making it immortal.”

But Chandrashekhar says that running a tea business is not as simple as brewing a mix in a vessel. In 2000, they also opened branches in Timber Market, Rameshwar Chowk, Kasarwadi and Yerwada, but failed due to economic reasons.

Elaborating on other challenges, he says, “We all start around 4.30 am to prepare for the day. The business demands long working hours as it closes at 10 pm. There are no holidays. The COVID-19 pandemic has changed the dynamics now. From 3,000 cups a day, the numbers have dropped to 500,” he notes.

Chandrashekhar also says the love of tea has faded to an extent. “A few customers desire quality tea, while the majority is less bothered with what they are consuming in the name of beverages sold at low price. The increasing number of chai wallahs are reducing the profits, as the market is shared by many. It is a challenge for everyone in the business,” he says.

The family plans to adopt a franchise model and are in talks to launch 150 branches across Maharashtra. “We are working out a business arrangement where we can reach out to wider customers,” he says.

But for now, Chandrashekhar is content with the achievements and how far the business has come. “We will soon complete 100 years. Running a tea business for decades is not an easy task. For us, it means more than business. It is about continuing the family legacy and keeping the heritage alive,” he adds.

Edited by Divya Sethu

In 2016, Ganesh Kulkarni (41), a librarian and resident of Aurangabad’s Phulambri taluka, decided to take up gardening as a new hobby. He bought a rose plant and started watering it every day, but slowly, the plant’s health deteriorated and it died.

With no experience in gardening or a friend to turn to for help, Ganesh began his research online, where he found many groups on gardening on Facebook. He joined ‘Gacchivaril Baug’ (terrace garden) and started seeking inputs from urban gardeners all over India.

He slowly gained a better understanding of how to care for his plants, and soon had around 400 pots of flowers and a variety of plants on his terrace. After his endeavour became popular among his friends and family, he created a WhatsApp group where residents of the city could exchange plants and discuss topics related to gardening.

Shortly after the COVID-19 lockdown, Ganesh moved to a new home, where he decided to also grow vegetables alongside his existing plants. Today, his 800 sq-ft terrace boasts of all the seasonal vegetables that you might think of.

‘A part of the green revolution’

Ganesh’s collection of plants includes five types of gourds, as well as brinjal, tomato, okra, and pumpkin. Alongside, he has leafy vegetables such as spinach, mint, ginger, coriander, fenugreek, chillies, cabbage, curry leaves, onion, and garlic among 200 types of vegetables, fruits and flowers.

He says that he plants different vegetables every fortnight and that the food he grows is adequate to feed his family of four.

About his experience of learning on Facebook, Ganesh says that his queries were politely addressed and people helped him at each step. “I learned to make organic fertiliser, use cow dung and prepare vermicompost. I have dedicated 300 square feet of space for preparing compost. Moreover, I sought inputs on pest control by sending pictures and seeking remedies,” he says.

But growing all the vegetables would require a huge quantity of soil which could weigh the roof down and thus threaten the structural integrity of his newly built house.

“I took advice from the architect and made structural amendments. Also, instead of grow bags and pots, I built permanent pits along the walls. I use a mix of vermicompost, sand and leaves to avoid use of soil and thereby reduce the overall weight on the roof,” Ganesh says.

Ganesh says that his hobby has turned into an obsession. “I have started growing aloe vera, drumstick and other plants on a 4 acre area of the Sant Savtamali Gramin Mahavidyalaya, an educational institute where I work,” he says. “I have also set up an NGO, Green Trust, which has contributed to plant 1,500 saplings in the college premises with the help of volunteers.”

Ganesh says that today, he has 10 groups of 1,500 WhatsApp members within the city. “We started with eight members and eventually inspired others through word of mouth and references. I understand the potential of social media and it has helped me remain occupied and pursue gardening despite the lockdown. Today, we have become a community who help each other for gardening queries and motivate each other to grow our own food,” he says.

From being an amateur and seeking help on social media, he has become a mentor to newcomers. “I feel proud and glad to be able to guide them. Gardening has given me friends in different parts of India and the confidence to become part of an urban green revolution,” he adds.

In 1952, a newly independent India was holding her first general elections. As the fervour of nationalism ran high across the country, a man in the bylanes of Parel, Mumbai, played his own role in it by launching a homegrown brand of toothpowder. Made from 18 ayurvedic ingredients, the powder came in a small box inside a cotton bag, making the brand Swadeshi in every way. The man behind this powder won the hearts and trust of consumers across the country, and the brand even birthed an unforgettable jingle.

This man was Keshav Pendharkar, and the brand was none other than VICCO.

Regardless of whether you used a VICCO product, you’d remember the classic ‘VICCO Vajradanti’ and ‘VICCO Turmeric Ayurvedic Cream’ ads, which have been a favourite across generations, by heart.

So what inspired Keshav to start VICCO Laboratories and create a historic ad that the brand still relies on to sell the products?

A complete Swadeshi brand

Keshav Pendharkar ran a grocery store in his hometown – Nagpur, Maharashtra. However, he soon decided to shut the business and shift base to Mumbai. Here, he managed a variety of small businesses in Bandra and suburbs. During this stint, he acquired marketing skills, and later moved to Parel and tried his luck with handmade goods.

During those times, he witnessed the penetration of allopathic medicines and cosmetic products such as Ponds, Nivea and Afghan Snow in the market. Considering the commercial dynamics, he decided to launch a natural ayurvedic product with a brand named after his father. VICCO, an abbreviation of Vishnu Industrial Chemicals Company, was formed in 1952, offering chemical-free, medicinal tooth powder.

Sanjeev, a third generation entrepreneur and currently at the helm of the company, tells The Better India, “In the 1950s, toothpastes with fluoride content were triggering health issues such as dental fluorosis. It became a worrying trend among children, as they consumed it unintentionally or otherwise for its sweet taste. Moreover, allopathy began to be perceived as a superior medical science.”

Sanjeev says that to challenge the notion, his grandfather studied ayurvedic scriptures and took help from his brother-in-law, who knew ayurvedic medicines.

“The family had a three-room house. The kitchen became the manufacturing unit, and the other rooms turned into the godown and office. The VICCO Vajradanti tooth powder was our first product and made exclusively from herbs that did the job of cleaning the teeth and strengthening the gums,” he explains.
He adds that VICCO was the first and only Swadeshi product in the toothpaste and vanishing cream category in the Indian market that was competing with cosmetic products.

Sanjeev says that his grandfather mastered the art of marketing by knocking doors to meet potential buyers. He addressed people with polite and convincing words. “‘I am not selling you what you like, but what you need,’ my grandfather used to say to the customers,” he says, adding that later, Keshav’s teenage sons joined the business. The trio would often have to bear the brunt of the harsh heat and unending rains, accompanied by the insults and humiliation from the people they approached.

Sanjeev says that eventually, the product managed to root itself deeply in the market, and the business prospered. Within four years of the company’s establishment, Keshav purchased an industrial shed to manufacture the product in large quantities and reach broader geographic markets in the country.

However, by the late 1950s, rich and upper-middle-class families started accepting toothpaste and toothbrushes. Keshav decided to convert the toothpowder into toothpaste that would continue to serve the benefits of healthy teeth rather than just the claims of making them clean and shiny, as projected by his competitors.

“By then, Gajanan, his son, had graduated in pharmacy, and the task to achieve the feat was entrusted to him. After seven years of R&D and facing issues with tube containers as well as heavy rejections from the market, the product came in place. Keshav maintained patience and never gave up despite failures. The effort paid off, enabling VICCO Vajradanti to keep its foot in the market,” Sanjeev says.

Keshav believed in diversification and expansion of the products. He soon decided to rope the medicinal properties of turmeric for skincare.

“The VICCO Turmeric Ayurvedic cream flaunted the medicinal properties of turmeric. But the product was yellow, as against the conventional bright white creams in the market. As customers were sceptical of buying it, Keshav changed the marketing strategy through advertisements portraying it as a product that promised healthy and glowing skin,” Sanjeev says.

In 1971, Keshav passed away, leaving Gajanan to lead the company. His four younger brothers assisted in the operations. The company rolled out other products such as VICCO sugar-free paste for diabetic patients, VICCO Turmeric Foam Base Multipurpose Cream, VICCO Turmeric Oil Base All Purpose Cream and VICCO Turmeric WSO Cream.

In the years to come, the company also managed to penetrate foreign markets by offering the products to 35 countries, including the USA.

‘Way ahead of its time’

Beyond creating a stronghold in the market against competitors through creative advertising, the company also fought a hard battle to maintain its strict ‘non-cosmetic’ identity. So much so that it put out a loud and clear message to government agencies through its marketing campaigns with the advertisement of the VICCO Turmeric Ayurvedic Cream.

In 1978, the Central Excise Department insisted that the VICCO’s products were not ayurvedic medicines and ordered taxes under the cosmetic category to be levied on the company. The taxes for cosmetic products were higher than the ayurvedic medicines. However, VICCO asserted that their products were strictly ayurvedic and fought decades worth of battles in civil courts, the Bombay High Court and the Supreme Court. The lower courts ruled in the company’s favour, while the Supreme Court dismissed the case in 2003.

However, the issue cropped up again with the implementation of the new Central Excise Tariff Act 1985, which stated that the company’s products came under the ambit of the cosmetics category. However, VICCO stood the test of time and emerged victorious after the debate came to a conclusion and was settled by the Supreme Court in 2007 favouring the company.

During these turbulent years, the VICCO group announced through its jingle, “Vicco Turmeric, nahi cosmetic, Vicco Turmeric Ayurvedic cream” (VICCO is a turmeric ayurvedic cream, and not cosmetic).

“The influence of VICCO’s ads on the minds of its viewers is undeniable. The commercials ruled the sentiments of the people with their catchy jingles. The VICCO Vajradanti Paste and VICCO Turmeric Cream ads also became legendary,” he says.

Keeping up with the times, the company also signed Alia Bhatt in 2019 for its advertisement with a modern twist to the classic jingle to target millennials.

Reminiscing about the times she used VICCO Vajradanti, Shrinika Gadkari, a resident of Mumbai, recalls, “Back then, the customers did not have many alternatives for dental care and visiting a dentist for ailments was uncommon. Almost every household of the generation relied on VICCO Vajradanti for healthy teeth and gums. The same people switched to using the company’s toothpaste.”

The 55-year-old says that other toothpaste brands only became popular about 20 years ago as the “doctors” in the commercials promoted other non-Indian brands. “We can say that the company was way ahead of its time as leading brands today promote ayurvedic elements like salt, meswak, clove, turmeric, charcoal in their products, which VICCO Vajradanti always had. Hence, the product continues to be relevant across generations,” she says.
Moreover, the company also contributed significantly to the entertainment industry by sponsoring comedy serials like Yeh Jo Hai Zindagi (1984), which was telecast on the National Network.

Sanjeev says, “The serial featured the sweet bride Banno in the advertisement of the VICCO Turmeric Cream that accompanied the serial. The company produced and sponsored multiple serials, movies and DD programmes telecast in Hindi, Marathi and Gujarati, showcasing social evils, social disparity, unjust treatment of women, and negligence of the elderly. Thus, it participated in influencing the cultural and social dynamics of society.”

He adds that at the time very few brands had dared to venture into the entertainment industry. “But my father, Gajanan took the bold step in the 1980s and turned the company’s fortune,” he says.

Seven decades on, the Rs 700 million company remains a family-run business with five brothers playing a decisive role in the company’s policy, sales, the launch of new products, export, expansion plans and taking other vital decisions.

With years of experience under the belt, Sanjeev has some tips for aspiring entrepreneurs. “I believe that anyone can pursue business by focussing on the goal. One has to be a lifelong learner and absorb the failures and challenges and overcome them,” he says.

He adds, “A business is like a child and needs accountability, care and love. There are no shortcuts, and one has to put skin in the game and push limits. Staggering and stumbling is a part of the game, but surrendering is not an option in the journey.”

Edited by Divya Sethu

On 2009, Hemant Ogale, a mechanical engineer, photographed a snake he found in the forests of the Western Ghats in Dicholi, Goa. He found the reptile fascinating for the spectrum of orange and dusky brown pattern on its body. He returned home and shared the pictures with his mentor, Dr Varad Giri, a herpetologist, only to realise that the snake species was so far undocumented in any scientific journal.

“In 2012, we described the snake as Castoe’s Coral Snake, or the Calliophis castoe in Zootaxa, an international journal, declaring it as a new species,” Hemant, a native of Amboli in the Konkan region, says. “I had no technical know-how or interest in reptiles or amphibians. But thanks to Dr Varad and his guidance, I am a full-time researcher and environmentalist now.”

Like Hemant, there are at least 200 citizen scientists that have been groomed and nurtured by Dr Varad over the years. Beyond creating an army of citizen researchers for the conservation of wildlife, Dr Varad himself has discovered 56 species of amphibians, reptiles and geckos in the Western Ghats.

An ‘accidental’ herpetologist

Speaking with The Better India, the 50-year-old says the reason he wanted to create such citizen scientists is that he himself had entered the field of zoology without ever really planning to. And over the years, he has realised the crucial role a person without a scientific background can play in wildlife conservation.

Dr Varad says that in 1993, he wanted to pursue post-graduation in chemistry, a field that offered a stable job and income. However, his low score in academics pushed him to pursue zoology from Shivaji University in Kolhapur instead.

“During my academic years, I met one Hemant Dhamake, a senior who frequented the forest areas to watch birds, flowers and other biodiversity. I started joining him in these visits with other friends. Over time, discussing the birds and their colours, characteristics, and behaviour became a routine,” he says.

During this time, Dr Varad learned to identify birds, their scientific names, and the species that they belonged to. He also joined another friend and roommate, Anil Shingare, who was a snake rescuer.

After his graduation, he bagged a job at the Bombay Natural History Society (BNHS) by impressing the interview panel with his discovery of the Ceylon Frogmouth species for the first time in Maharashtra. “It was earlier known to be found only in Goa,” he notes.

Dr Varad says that around 2001-02, he kickstarted his career. “The Western Ghats were unexplored, and I decided to look at caecilians, which are tropical amphibians and look like snakes or worms. I also found a new species of caecilians in 2003 and named it Gegeneophis danieli,” he adds.

The same year, Dr Varad realised that more people should be involved in the study of reptiles and amphibians. “There were hardly any researchers working in the field. Hence, I collaborated with BNHS to start conducting training courses to involve people from the non-scientific community. The plan was simple. Get people to sign up, take them to the forest, encourage them to take pictures of species they come across and teach them about the same. And if someone finds a different species, handhold them in publishing a paper,” he explains.

Dr Varad says that he immersed himself in creating such a community. “I had mentors and friends who supported me financially and emotionally. My wife Kshamata sacrificed her career ambitions only to enable me to bring more researchers in the field,” he adds.

“The intention was never to take experts or scientists along, but encourage people with little enthusiasm or interest in the wilderness and ultimately help them have a deeper understanding of the biodiversity,” he notes.

R Chaitanya from Bengaluru was an IT professional and, in 2014, did a course with Dr Varad on amphibians. “Now, he has quit his job to pursue herpetology. He has discovered over 20 species in the past few years and is one of the best in the field. He is better than me, and sometimes I seek his guidance,” Dr Varad says proudly.

Narrating an incident from recent years, he notes that the sight of Hemidactylus house geckos is common in Amboli’s forest. “However, during a trip with a group of children, I informed them of its scientific identity as Hemidactylus brooki, and suggested they take pictures of the animals they find. I also told them to find a specimen and observe its features. Two hours later, they came to me and said that their findings did not match any existing records of the species,” he says, adding, “I was sure the children did not check carefully and asked them to recheck. Eventually, it turned out to be a new species altogether, and they named it Hemidactylus varadgirii.”

Varad says the incident humbled him.

His other students have named one genus of a snail slug Varadia, one snake Dendrelaphis girii, three lizards Cnemaspis girii, Cyrtodactylus varadgirii and Hemidactylus varadgirii after him. So far, he has reached out to around 50,000 students and people through his forest camps.

Looking beyond species discovery

In 2017, Dr Varad started his organisation called Nidus to continue his work.

Ishan Agarwal, an evolutionary biologist, says that Dr Varad has made a significant impact on Indian herpetology. “He loves interacting with everyone and guiding them. His contributions are significant to the field, and it is the same reason that most authors discovering new species name them after Dr Varad. It is an honour given for his immense contribution in the field,” he adds.

Dr Varad emphasises the need for citizen scientists, says, “Trained scientists are skilled in conducting specific research. Now to talk about natural science or research in biodiversity, there are many unanswered questions. To get that information, we need a huge number of scientists, which is a challenging task. How do we bridge this gap? With basic training, anyone interested in understanding nature can collect this information and share that with scientific platforms.”

Dr Varad says that by creating citizen scientists, he wants science to live on. “I will live for another 30-40 years. But the work on Indian herpetology should continue, and that is why I want to create many researchers,” he adds.

He is confident that such an initiative will enhance the human understanding of biodiversity. “Not many urban dwellers know what a house gecko (lizard) eats or where it lives. If we do not know about commonly found amphibians or reptiles, imagine the state of rare or undiscovered species,” he says.

Dr Varad says that beyond discovery, he is working towards the conservation of species. “What do we do after describing a new species? I had this question and recently realised that I am doing nothing for the well-being of these new species. Conservation of species requires vital information such as the habitat, the food they eat and when and how they breed. We do not have such information on them,” he says.

Dr Varad says that since 2018, he has started encouraging more citizens to upload images of various species on citizen science portals. “I hope that the data they are generating through images will be potentially utilised for some conservation measure. The pictures could involve the habitat, geographic location, or inaction when the species are eating or breeding. But it will help us learn more about them,” he adds.

When asked about his interest in species that are not visually appealing to all, he says, “Every species of plant and animal, however small or bad looking, plays an active role in maintaining the crucial balance of the ecosystem.”

“Unfortunately, due to lack of awareness, we hate many species such as reptiles and, to a certain extent, amphibians. The low numbers speak for themselves. I request everyone to understand these species,” he says.

Dr Varad adds, “No lizard is poisonous or venomous in India. The bites of all snakes are not fatal, frogs are good looking, and they are not poisonous. And the moment we realise these facts, our attitude towards the wonderful animal group will change. So try to understand them before making any negative comments.”

Edited by Divya Sethu

Vishram Gangavane, part of the Thakar tribe known for the storytelling art of Chitrakathi (‘Chitra’ means painting and ‘katha’ is a story) in Maharashtra’s Sindhudurg district, was once summoned by Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj in his darbar (court). 

So with a veena in one hand and a hand-made bundle of paper paintings in the other, he marched with other performers for several kilometres through the dense bushes of Sahyadri Hills. Exhausted from walking and performing puppet shows in several villages, a tensed Vishram finally arrived at the king’s court, and stood before the ruler of the mighty Maratha empire. 

Here, the king’s orders entailed that the nomadic tribe perform on all nine days of Navratri, but also double up as spies. 

At the time, musicians and instrumentalists who used voice modulation to narrate epics such as Ramayana and Mahabharata through paintings and puppetry were quite popular. Chhatrapati Shivaji banked on the fact that these Chitrakathi artists would be going from door to door after the performance to play the veena and collect bakshish (like rice, cashew nuts, and kokam), which would allow them to extract political information. The ruler fondly called the group “Butterflies of the Forest”, because they would flit from one part of the forest to the other.

After Chhatrapati Shivaji, Sawant Bhonsales of Sawantwadi continued commissioning the artists as spies and even allotted them land in Pinguli near Kudal village in return for their services. It is believed that information relayed by the artists helped both the rulers prepare for battles more effectively.  

Vishram, who contributed to the historic battles, would have never imagined that 500 years later in 2021, his great-grandson Parshuram would be awarded the Padma Shri, India’s fourth highest civil award, for reviving his legacy. 

“I have heard epic tales from my parents of the bravery and valour of my ancestors, who wholeheartedly entertained audiences with captivating performances while secretly discharging duties for the ruler. However, after independence, Chitrakathi started declining with practically no monetary returns. Many artists switched to government jobs and today only a handful of them practice this,” says Parshuram, who single-handedly revived the craft in the 1980s. He possesses close to 1,000 paintings, some of which are as old as three centuries. 

Parshuram’s sons, Chetan and Eknath, are the latest entrants in the culturally rich legacy of Chitrakathi. Chetan, who has a diploma in engineering, talks about his ancestors, the odds they had to overcome to keep the craft alive, and how they are inculcating contemporary designs to attract the millennial generation’s attention. 

Mesmerising tales 

While there isn’t any concrete evidence to trace back the date of Chitrakathi’s origin, the earliest account mentioning the use of Kalsutri toys as puppets was written by Sant Gyaneshwar in the 15th chapter of sacred Gyaneshwari, a religious text of 1290 CE. 

According to folklore, the forest-dependent tribals in Pinguli drew pictures on leaves with lime and soot from oil lamps. Their creativity was reflected in the carved wooden strings for puppetry and leather base for shadow puppetry. 

“In our community, there were 11 art forms that involved performing and drawing. One of these was Chitrakathi. With minimal resources at their disposal, artists found inspiration in nature. That’s why wood and leather skin from hunted animals became an integral part of the art. The dominant colours across generations have all been primary, as it is easy to extract green from leaves, blue from indigo and red from the Sahyadri soil,” says Chetan. Even today, colours such as red and yellow (from turmeric) are extracted from vegetables. 

Under the painting-led narration, the artist forms a pothi (bundle) of pictures to narrate the folk story, religious texts (like Nandi Pura) or mythologies. The sequence of the paintings is according to the newly composed song, supported by instruments like the ektari veena, huduk (a two-headed small percussion instrument) and tuntuna. The artists sit on the floor and carry out the performance with paintings kept against a charaung (wooden table). 

For the puppet show, the string puppets are made from wood and dressed in vivid colours. Their faces typically resemble mythological heroes, kings, and queens. Meanwhile, the two-dimensional shadow puppetry brings alive the haunting, tragic and brave tales on a screen of thin cloth backlit by a huge oil lamp at night. 

With time, the surface medium first transitioned from leaves to paper and walls, and now includes items like handicrafts, pottery, clothes and more. Gawde Wada, a 100-year-old house near Pinguli, has a six-foot Chitrakathi painting. It also has a small temple that was the hub of ancient Chitrakathi performers. Chetan and Ekanth even attempted street art using calligraphy in the Devanagari script in Chitrakathi style. 

“Back in the day, Chitrakathi was popular as an entertainment source, as it was easy to relate to and provided an enriching experience to its audiences. It evoked all senses including smell, hearing, and sight. It was truly a sight to behold. My grandfather’s voice was so loud that people sitting a kilometre away could hear the tales. But with the influx of television, internet and other sources, the performances decreased and art was further devalued,” says Chetan, who started performing at 12. 

Due to insufficient earnings, the artists, including Parshuram, had to switch careers. He became a farmer and encouraged his children to pursue different fields as well. 

Reviving Chitrakathi

Parshuram never really stopped performing, but would do it only on special occasions and in temples. His main source of income was agriculture. In the 1980s, the Ministry of Textile invited him to Delhi to exhibit his paintings. 

“That trip was life-changing. For the first time, I realised that people outside Maharashtra are also interested in this art form. I sold paintings and puppets during that stint. After that, I grabbed every opportunity to travel around the country to display Chitrakathi. But while I was earning well, I told my children to get degrees,” says Parshuram. 

However, in 2000, a tragic accident broke Parshuram’s left leg, which ended his farming career. He had to be shifted to a Mumbai hospital, where he stayed for nearly two years. The costly medical bills put the family under a severe debt crisis. 

“We struggled a lot financially. There was no money to support even our education. My father opened a tea stall after returning to Pinguli. That’s when it was decided that my brother and I would look for stable jobs, which we did. But our genes couldn’t keep us away from Chitrakathi for long and I am grateful for that,” says Chetan.

In 2005, Chetan left his job and engaged full-time to find ways to revive the art. Meanwhile, Eknath continued his government to support the family. They converted their cowshed into a museum to display the century-old paintings, puppets and also sell merchandise. 

“Students of architecture, design and art would often visit or call my father to know more about the paintings, and he would happily explain. That gave us the idea of a museum. We started with a Rs 5 entry ticket and as the visitors increased, we raised it to Rs 20. Ministers, actors, and several known personalities visited the museum, which helped us spread the word,” says Chetan. 

The geographical location of the museum on NH 66, which connects Goa and Maharashtra, also played a crucial role in attracting tourists. Additionally, the Deccan Odyssey tourist train makes a stop at Pinguli station. So they get several foreigners as well. In 2018, the family also started a homestay for tourists to give them a local taste of food, art and culture. 

“We are trying to promote Chitrakathi through tourism, and before the COVID-19 lockdown, we would get an average of 500 visitors every month. We have modified our narratives and tales as per contemporary times. We have used the paintings and puppetry to spread awareness on HIV, cancer, polio, child abuse, coronavirus, and more. Just before the lockdown, we visited Kohima, Nagaland, where we did a puppet show comprising old and new texts,” says Chetan. 

The family is now using social media platforms to teach the painting and takes workshops. 

“The digital age is going to be a defining era for artisans to reach a wider audience. Our family’s story and art were even featured in Amazon Prime’s series ‘Lakhon Main Ek’. Our ancestors worked very hard to make Chitrakathi engaging in those days and used it to protect the subjects. So many years later, it warms my heart to know that this craft is making a comeback,” adds Parshuram. 

All images are taken from the Gangavane family. Get in touch with them here

Edited by Divya Sethu 

Ever since word spread that Shamkant Thange has successfully revived a once-popular mango variety in his two-acre orchard in Tikhol village in Ahmednagar Maharashtra, he has been receiving a stream of visitors including farmers from far off Sindhudurg.

Swamped by hundreds of orders for the saplings of mango, locally known as ‘Tikhliya’, the 52-year-old assures prospective buyers saying, “I will be able to offer it by early next year.”

A small village with 2,000 plus inhabitants, Tikhol sits in a valley circled by the Sahyadri range. Barely 3 km from National Highway 61, the village of farmers is home to an earthen dam, which caters to drinking water and is also used for irrigating crops like bajra, sweet pea, onion, tomato, sugarcane and beans. The village also borders the famed Ralegan Siddhi, considered to be a model of environmental conservation.

According to the villagers, the Tikhliya mango trees have stood on the edge of the village since the British era but stopped yielding fruits in the early ’90s. There are two theories about how it got its name: first, because it belonged to Tikhol village and second, because of its light green dots (tikki in Marathi) on the fruit’s body. In Maharashtra, mango trees which come up beside water bodies, like a river or a pond are known as Raiwal or gavran amba (local mango variety). Tikhliya is also a raiwal variety.

Old timers here tell you that the mango variety has had a special place in the heart of Tikhol and its neighbouring villages. Till about the 1970s, after harvest, bullock carts laden with ripe Tikhliya were taken in a procession with a brass band playing till the village’s border. However, the practice was discontinued in the early ’70s. “We took the mangoes loaded in bullock carts to the Nagar (Ahmednagar is colloquially referred as) mandi, which is 40km away. Six bullock carts carried around six quintals each of the fruit,” reminiscences Sakhare Thange (85). He adds, “It took us close to three hours to reach the mandi and we sold a choudah (a pile of 14) for Rs 40.”

As late as 1984, a Tikhol farmer, Rangnath Ganpat Kabre, was awarded a cash prize of Rs 1,000 by the Ahmednagar Zilla Parishad for growing the Tikhliya variety. Now we know why it acquired the moniker, ‘Nagar Cha Hapus’ (Hapus of Ahmednagar), comparable to Konkan’s Alphonso.

However, by the late ’90s, the tree had stopped yielding fruits, which in horticulture is called becoming ‘senile’. Six years into the new millennium it had withered. Then, some time in 2006, Shamkant, whose family had enjoyed it’s fruits, decided to conserve it. “The tree had withered and become lifeless, barring a couple of branches. I brought home a couple of them and made grafts of them which over the years I planted on three gunthas (3000 sq. ft) of land,” says the man who has devoted 15 long years to revive Tikhliya.

The Thange orchard with 200 mango trees stands on 2 acres of land.

Flowering on this tree begins in the December-January period and a 10-year-old tree annually yields between 3 to 5 tonnes of fruits, according to Shamkant.

From the oldest orchard comprising 50 trees, this year, the Thanges harvested 50 quintals and sold it for Rs 150 a kg.

Of the many who consider Tikhliya to be a hidden gem awaiting to be rediscovered is one Vasant Gharat (60), a Panvel resident who trades in fish spawns. He says, “During a business trip to Tikhol I happened to enjoy the mango and ever since then, my family and I have been asking for more of it. What’s remarkable about this mango variety is it’s aroma stays with you. I was so charmed by it that I acquired a couple of saplings and gifted them to a farmer friend.”

There are scores of farmers in Tikhol who grow mangoes, namely Dasheri, Payeri and Kesar but it’s the Thanges who besides growing other crops have helped revive a local variety and propagate it too.

Dwelling on the identifying characteristics of Tikhliya, Devendra Jadhav, Block Technology Manager, ATMA (Agricultural Technology Management Agency) who has been working in Parner taluka since 2016, says, “Tikhliya arrives after all the mango varieties, like Hapus, Kesar, Payeri, etc, have finished their three-month-long reign. Harvested in mid-June it’s much-sought after among the fruit’s dedicated fans.”

Every year a storm characterised by high-speed winds and heavy rains fells the mango crop in large numbers leading to losses to the grower. Interestingly, Tikhiliya is endowed with a unique feature noticed by the villagers. The thick stem on which fruits hang in a bunch protects it from erratic weather conditions.

ATMA has big plans for Tikhliya. Jadhav says, “We will provide all the assistance to the Thanges to develop a nursery and cater to the huge demand for its saplings. We want to make Tikhliya synonymous to Maharashtra which will benefit growers who want to grow off season mango.”

Weighing around 250-300g, the fruit, once plucked, remains fresh for up to 25 days. Slightly rounder in shape, firm-fleshed, fibre-free and endowed with a pleasing aroma, Tikhliya has delicate skin. When ripe the skin becomes yellow. But it lacks the extreme sweetness of Alphonso.

Taking into consideration its unique features, ATMA has filed for GI (Geographical Index) status with the IPR cell of Mahatma Phule Krishi Vidyapeeth, Rahuri.

The family also aspires to enter the variety in the National Database of Mangoes which is maintained by the Department of Biotechnology, Indian Council of Agriculture Research and Central Institute of Subtropical Horticulture. “If the Thanges achieve the status of becoming a custodian farmer like hundreds of others spread across the country who conserve our horticulture heritage,” says Jadhav.

Having tasted few slices of a freshly-cut Tikhliya I tend to agree with what Avinash (28), a third generation Thange and an agriculture graduate, told me: ‘Whatever you write, it would still be inadequate to express the mango’s uniqueness’.”

(Edited by Yoshita Rao)

Even amidst the devastating second wave of the pandemic, examples of COVID-19-free villages in different corners of the country emerged. The Bhandara district of Maharashtra, comprising 800 villages and a population of 13 lakh, has set a new record of becoming COVID-free on August 6.

The success has been made possible by an IAS officer who overcame the crisis and on-ground challenges during the second wave of the pandemic to become the first district in Maharashtra in achieving the COVID-free status.

Sandeep Kadam took charge as a District Collector in August 2020 during the pandemic and, in April, started observing a spike in cases.

The condition worsened to the extent that the district became one of the worst-hit areas of central India by May 2021.

“On 12 April, the district reported 1,596 new cases, and on 1 May, 35 patients died in a day. The number of patients was so high that the district converted schools, wedding halls, community centres and government institutes into COVID-19 centres,” Sandeep tells The Better India.

However, meticulous planning and strict management enabled the district to free the villagers from the bonds of COVID-19 in three months.

500 micro-containment zones

Micro-containment, relentless testing, tracing and treating of patients was what worked in favour of the district.

Speaking about how he achieved the feat, the 2008-batch IAS officer says, “The first step we took was to visit every village and conduct mass testing drives to check the community spread. Contact tracing does not yield too many results when the infection spreads among the masses. Hence, mass testing became our only solution.”

Sandeep says the second step was to isolate the infected patients immediately. “The testing resulted in exposing all possible threats. At one point, the positive rate spiked up to 52 per cent. All the patients came under immediate isolation for 2-3 weeks. This decision helped us contain the spread of coronavirus,” he adds.

Moreover, contact tracing helped in identifying the source of the infection. “It is difficult in a large number of cases, but we manage to identify if the sources were from within the district or outside,” Sandeep says.

He says that another unique move he took was creating micro-containment zones, even for a single patient. “The government norms mentioned creating micro-containment zones in areas or localities where more than five cases get reported. However, the administration decided to declare such zones even when a single person is found positive. It helped curb the spread of the virus within neighbourhoods,” Sandeep says, adding that at one point there were 500 such zones created in the district.

The IAS officer further says the police and administrative officials were deployed for round the clock implementation and monitoring of the guidelines. “We formed dedicated flying squads to visit micro-containment areas and ensure that residents co-operate,” he says.

Sandeep notes that such steps helped to achieve a steep drop in the new cases. “Additionally, massive vaccination campaigns and tackling vaccine hesitancy among locals, between March and April, must have helped build immunity among the residents, too,” he says.

The multiple steps helped the district administration record less than 100 cases in two months. “Though the cases and positivity rate dipped, we decided not to let our guard down. We observed how once the cases started reducing to 100, several governments relaxed norms. However, that is when we saw the opportunity to become a COVID-free district,” he explains.

Sandeep says that the strict measures continued until the last patient recovered. “We shifted to contact tracing as the case dropped further and continued with the micro-containment zones even for 10-15 patients. The move was to corner the virus and not allow any room for it to escape,” he adds.

“The overall process and never letting our guard down helped the district become COVID-free,” he says.

However, Sandeep adds that the task became difficult to manage as the district has no government medical college. “The college comes with the resources such as doctors, researchers and students. Its absence left the administration with limited assets. Also, there were senior officers across departments and government bodies who became infected overtime causing challenges to contain the spread of COVID-19,” he adds.

He says that despite achieving success and receiving appreciation, his focus is now on the eminent third wave. “We have made all the necessary arrangements of beds and oxygen supply. There are daily meetings to understand the preparations and make the system stronger to fight the disease,” he adds.

“People feel that the threat of COVID-19 has long gone, but they have to realise that it is still lurking in neighbouring districts. We will have to continue wearing masks and observe precautions for several days to come,” he says.

Edited by Yoshita Rao

As a student of dentistry, Dr Minal Kabra, from Jalna, Maharashtra, has been treating children with dental caries on a regular basis. But she says that the proportion of dental illness is high among children in rural areas. “The sticky chocolates do more damage if the teeth remain unclean,” she tells The Better India.

But besides this, another thought pained the 33-year-old. “The mothers accompanying their children often shared their issues of unemployment and limited finances. Along with finding an alternative to sugar-based food for children, I wanted to find a solution to create a livelihood for rural women,” she says.

So, for the past two years, Minal has been feeding two birds with one scone. She launched a vegan sugarless cookie business—Kivu, a fusion word that means ‘channelising your inner energy for greater good’—while also enabling rural women to become financially independent.

Moringa & Flaxseed Cookies

Dr Minal says that Jalna receives a significant amount of sunny days. So, her business runs on solar energy and is entirely eco-friendly, which helps to mitigate 5 grams of CO2 per cookie. “We get sun for over 300 days in a year, so I thought of making cookies in the solar cooker that my family owns,” she says, adding, “I have been aware of the climate crisis and have always tried to live a sustainable lifestyle. So, I decided to use solar energy for my business too.”

Between 2016-17, Minal started experimenting with sun-baked cookies and different food items to explore the various possibilities of using her solar cooker. By 2018-19, using the solar cooker—that has a glass tube, a cooking tray and a parabolic reflector to build high temperatures—she perfected her style of baking cookies.

Dr Minal says that it seemed that all the stars aligned with her goals. “I could integrate all the needs of healthy food, women empowerment and climate consciousness into one business, so I launched the startup in December 2019,” she explains.

The entrepreneur adds that she recruited two women from the nearby village and gave each one of them a solar cooker.

“I didn’t want to employ the women but wanted them to become entrepreneurs on their own terms. So, I provided them with the required equipment to assist them with production. I buy the products and resell them in the retail market,” she says.

The 1.5-year-old entity today manufactures 30 kilos of cookies a day with varieties ranging from rajgira (Amarnath), jowar (Sorghum), coconut, wheat, oats, flaxseed, moringa, ginger lemon and multi-spice cookies. The healthy cookies have jaggery infused in them for the sweetness.

The products are available in 17 cities across 72 stores and have a presence on online platforms as well. So far, the business has earned Rs 33 lakh and prevented “825 kilos of carbon from being emitted into the atmosphere”.

Rajat Barmecha, a Mumbai-based entrepreneur, says he learned about Kivu through a friend and was instantly impressed. “I am not a cookie person, but I tried it for its sustainable practices. All the cookies are equally good,” he says.

Changing Lives For Better

The women working with Minal say that becoming entrepreneurs have changed their lives immensely. Swapna Gavandar, a resident at Ramnagar society in Jalna, says she had never stepped out of her house, but entering into the business has changed her life for the better.

“I learned baking skills using the solar cooker from Minal, and bake and sell the products to her as well. This earns me Rs 450 a day. My husband is a driver, and earlier I had to depend on him for finances. Sometimes he is away for days, and such instances used to result in a shortage of money. But not anymore,” she says.

Today, Swapna has admitted her children to a premium school. “Many women feel inspired by me and wish to engage in a similar business,” the 35-year-old adds.

Dr Minal says that she is already working on a model to involve more women in her business model. “I aim to create 100 clusters across the country in future,” she adds.

Speaking about the challenges, she says that the unavailability of sunlight at times is the main hindrance to steady production. “It becomes more difficult during the monsoons, and we have to plan way ahead,” Minal noted.

But for now, she says, “I am glad to have started this venture that addresses multiple issues and benefits a large set of people and the planet.”

Edited by Yoshita Rao