I don’t know why I’m writing about this topic. Till I slept on yesterday night, I had another topic in my mind. But since today morning this topics is haunting me as if to get free out of mind. The thought of paddy fields from my childhood!
I had my childhood at the ancestral home in a small village named Meladoor in Kerala. The land surrounding our home comprised a small pond, mango trees, countless coconut trees, jack fruit trees, banana trees, 2-3nutmeg plants and many cultivated vegetables. However more than any of these what interested me the most was the Paddy fields at the border of this one acre land.
During our Christmas vacation, I watch with anticipation for the water in the paddy fields to slowly recede. During that time I didn’t know that the constant humming of a motor in the night was actually pulling out the water from the fields and pouring it into a constructed water body.
By January, there would be ploughing and farming in its full bloom. We would wait for the mud bridges to become hard so that we can take the short cut to the main road to catch our bus. The route through the paddy fields would take us to the bus stop within five minutes. Otherwise we had to take the proper road, where we had to walk of twenty minutes to reach the bus stop.
The walk through the paddy fields in the morning and evening used to impart a positive energy into me though I couldn’t name the feeling on those days. There is always a beauty in being with the nature.
There were some Harijan families that lived on the other end of the paddy fields. Their children used to hoot and call at us as they saw us pass. Though they lived in mud thatched huts with coconut leaves strewn roofs and they always seemed to be happy. During our way back from school I sometimes stood behind to watch the children play merrily.
By the end of March, the ripened stems of the paddy field would start to turn golden in colour. My hands always itched to pluck them to feel their crispy feeling in my hand. But, Amma never allowed us to pluck them. She used to tell,
They have planted these with so much of hard work. You should not unnecessarily rob them of their reward. It’s a crime.
By the same time I would be getting impatient for the beginning of school holidays. Summer vacation was not only filled with complete freedom from studies, reckless games with the neighbourhood kids, visit from my aunt and cousins, the favourite festival of Vishu but also with our exploration into these paddy fields.
During the beginning of April, when the paddy fields would be heavy with the golden bunches of ripe rice stalks. I and my sister sometimes inured to take a walk in this paddy fields. The winding mud bridges would take us towards many sides of that 20 acre paddy field. Mostly, we took the paths that were not familiar to us just for having new sights. We sometimes imagined ourselves like adventurers who got lost in wilderness and who have to fight our way out of demons in this jungle. However apart from the hiding snails, not even a frog came on our way...
There would always be a stretch of water reserved for the irrigation work in the paddy fields. I still don’t know what all creatures had lived in that water. Once I was walking alongside the mud bridge of this water body and splashed the water with a stick that was in my hands. All of a sudden something long as the stick splashed into the air with a hissing sound and went down with the stick in my hand. My sister screamed. It was a King Cobra! I still don’t remember seeing the snake but have a feel that something pulled away the stick from my hand.
Even after this incident the elders were not scared us to send unattended to the paddy fields. They just scared us that there is a pond at the southern end of the water body where a woman got drowned herself. Her spirit might come and take you to the water if you touch the water body again. Naturally, this story was more than enough to keep us safe away from the dangerous area.
By the end of the April, the harvest would begin. We usually avoided the paddy fields during that time except for the evening strolls. At this time, as I had passed some houses in the village, I could see their courtyards made up with cow dung, people busy with segregating the rice grains from its stalks and boiling the grains in big vessels to segregate further the rice. The boiling smell of rice grains always brought a mouth watering experience for me. There were many people needed for this work. I remember a woman called Chakki was so much in demand at this time, owing to her expertise in this field.
Then, with an unspoken message, we would realize when the harvest would over and the field was free for us. As we visit the barren fields, the dry roots of rice would prick our feet. Even then we and our friends in the neighbourhood would shift our playground to the field. It was then we used to take out the clay from the field and tried our skills at the art of sculpture. We also used to play difficult games like sit in silence or paint the nature or write poems etc. We all were so convinced that we can become an artist only if we watch nature.
By the middle of May, the rains will start. First, the erratic raindrops would wet the clay, making the field slippery and inoperative for our playground. Then, the heavy rains would fill the fields making the whole area look like a river. By the beginning of June, the fields would be overflowing with water and our schools would start at the same time. On my way to or back from school, I sometimes peered through the window curtains of the bus to have a look at the drowned paddy fields. As raindrops splashed in full force over the water, I used to wonder where all traces of my playground had lost!
Afterword: After many years I and my sister visited the place together in December 2010. The paddy fields were filled with water as usual. There were many migratory birds in the water that had not been there in our childhood. The houses at the other end of the fields were not there. I don’t know where they all went. I didn’t ask my Aphan who still live there about the changes that would come to the paddy fields in the coming months. I like to think that it would be just as same as in my childhood.
