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P. Devarajan

LATA alerted us to the two-week seeding job in Borivili National Park and the request from Avinash S. Kubal for help from Mumbaikars. The e-mail from Kubal requested volunteers to gather at the park in the morning by 7.30 a.m. and collect seeds and implements.

On a Saturday morning, Lata, Lyla, Ruki and myself met at the park and waited quite a while for a crowd to collect. The entry point to the park is unappetising with nothing to suggest a forest deep inside. One could see groups of early morning walkers talking loudly and spitting liberally. By about 9, the offices opened and a few officials brought out seeds packed in 500 g plastic bags along with pick-axes.

Jadhav, an official from the Maharashtra Nature Park Society, threw open the inevitable Government ledger on a table, for the volunteers to enter their names and addresses. At the final count, there were 20 of us with males and females in about equal proportion. It was getting hot and a few suggested to Jadhav a quick start; but for Jadhav, high noon temperatures were an irrelevance. At about 9.30, we got into a van along with seed packets and pickaxes for a bumpy six km ride to the core area of the park spreading towards Kandivili suburbs. Every animal and bird went into hiding as the noisy van made its way along the dust tracks.

The vehicle halted atop a barren slope running down towards a wire fence that kept out shanty dwellers from entering the park. Jadhav helped us form teams of two with a male and a female making a team and handed over the heavy pickaxes to the males. Then came the guidance note: the pickaxe has to be wielded to pick a hole some two inches deep with care taken that none stands behind or in front of the user of the axe; the partner carrying the seeds will have to drop three seeds into the hole and cover it. The seeding has to be done in a straight line with a three feet distance maintained between two seeding spots.

Seemingly, the slope identified for greening had been cleared of shanties in 1995 and one saw their remains along with plastic waste. This writer had as partner a middle-aged Gujarati lady and one started rather bringing down the axe with some effort. The sky was clear of sun and clouds; the heat was scalding and all of us were wet as we moved along placing under the earth seeds of the bor, tamarind and other hardy plants with the fond hope they would one day, many years hence, become trees to house birds and animals. ``There is little danger of the seeds drying up as the monsoon is expected in another 10 days,'' said Kubal.

My heavy partner wanted to handle the axe but gave up though one was surprised by the number of Gujarati women keen on the job. ``At home we are bored and for us this is a picnic,'' said my partner. That probably explained their continuous chatter, a habit, picked up from husbands who spend 24 hours chasing forex, equity and commodity quotes on mobiles.

After the first round of about 45 minutes, one gave up on the advice of Lata and flopped down under a young silk cotton tree while the others carried on. It was the first time one had used a pickaxe to drill holes when probably a small spade could have been handier. My partner joined hands with another team. One was alone on the head of the slope looking at a blazing blankness. A soft wind came up the rocky surface, tangled with the leaves of the silk cotton tree which swayed like Buddhist prayer flags, to sound a sleepy jingle and one nodded off. One dreamt of the easy anonymity of the nature essay with no by-lines when a young Syed Hyder broke in with a query, ``How long will it take for the seeds to turn a forest?'' My answer was an uncertain 20 years, if left alone. Syed Hyder, a 20-year-old engineer, has been regularly coming from Vikhroli to help plant seeds and yearns to go back to his village in Tehri Garhwal to build a forest and observe wild goats. ``I love the gorals (wild goats),'' he said.

By around 12 noon, the others finished the task of covering some 5 acres of land with seeds and dropped out of the van in an exhausted heap at the entrance of the park. At least four of us told Jadhav that we won't be back the next day.

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