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Six years. Six summers, winters and monsoons have passed since I acquired a plot of land ultimately fulfilling my youthood dream of becoming a weekend farmer. Ever since then it has been only expenses–from salaries to my farm hand to seeds, from buying plants to acquiring materials for making my fertiliser and pesticide. As wifey often says of my farm: It’s a white elephant! Its a black hole.
bamboo groveAs I’ve enjoyed the experience of seeing the trees grow and yielding fruits I don’t have any regrets. Because I love farming.
My passion is wonderfully echoed in Wendell Berry’s Bringing it to the Table: Writings on Farming and Food: “Why do farmers farm, given their economic adversities on top of the many frustrations and difficulties normal to farming? And always the answer is: “Love. They must do it for love.” Farmers farm for the love of farming. They love to watch and nurture the growth of plants. They love to live in the presence of animals. They love to work outdoors. They love the weather, maybe even when it is making them miserable.”
Moreover, me, my family and friends have benefited immensely from the organically grown, pesticide free fruits and vegetables grown in my farm. That’s some have called farming as “profession of hope”.
But all along I’ve wanted that I make some money from my produce. A validation that my farm produce can fetch some money. That happened today, when I sold my first kilo of turmeric powder.
As I handed the currency notes gained from the sale, wifey said: “I will treasure these all my life and preserve it as family heirloom.”

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