Rainfall is scarce and has been since the turn of the millennium. Fifteen years ago, the farmer could expect 500 mm of rain annually, arriving like clockwork in July and continuing up to September. Now, rainfall is sparse, erratic and scattered. On this organic farm, climate change is real. The farmer adjusts to the new reality by going back to the old ways: the traditional Indian system of agriculture, known to the world as organic farming.

By the standards of his village, Laporiya, Laxman Singh is a big farmer. He and his two younger brothers own almost 10 hectares of agricultural land, in a village where two hectares is the norm. They also own an old haveli, a once-beautiful double-storeyed structure retaining, in its colourful tiles, heavy wooden doors and stone-carvings, vestiges of its former glory. It is their ancestral home.

The first thing the farmer hears on rising is the sound of cow-bells. The cattle are on their way to pasture, ambling along well-worn trails without waiting for a gwala (cowherd) to guide them. From the sound of piping voices, it's obvious the children have decided to go along. Pastures are dwindling throughout the country, brought under the plough or buried under toll roads and townships. Not so in Laxman Singh's village, where they are fiercely guarded against encroachment.

In Laporiya, even after eight years of drought, none of the cattle go thirsty or hungry. For this, the carefully nurtured pasture is responsible. The cattle stroll unhurriedly down the three-mile long pasture, drinking from man-made watering holes and nibbling a variety of grasses. Copious droppings mark their route. In the evening, they will turn homewards of their own accord, lowing if they need to be milked.

Image: Laxman Singh (centre and inset) discusses water harvesting with villages.
Text and Photographs: Bhavdeep Kang

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