By Dr. R Sudarshan
An organic farmer's year is divided into three equal parts at the mercy of the prime elixir of the planet - water. For months it pours down from the sky, destroying everything it should otherwise sustain. For months it acts normal and that gives us a moment of ego. And when summer comes, it just disappears into the unreachable depths of soil or to the vast thin air and laughs with a punishing fang.
April now. Water has disappeared. The overworking borewell motors have burnt out and cranes come every other day to hoist the pump to check and repair like you see in the picture. Twice a week we bring water tankers to feed the thirsty roots of vegetables and fruits. And when everything appears fine and the power arrives to pump up the water, it comes stealthily at midnight when the farmhands deep sleep and the world is dark.
At times, it actually looks meaningless producing greens and running regular markets. But then, water has a fourth state too - the happy hope. It strangely runs in the blood of those that want to be farmers and trains them to misinterpret the clouds every day.
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