Even the hens and pigeons do not eat the new grains. ‘How can we trust it, when the birds don’t?’
This question reverberates in Anumeha Yadav’s book, Our Rice Tastes of Spring—a beautiful and critical addition to the collection of children and Young Adult literature from this year.
The story takes us into the world of young Jinid from a fictional village in Jharkhand’s Chhota Nagpur region whose family has been growing several traditional varieties of rice. In their memories and conversations, they keep alive this treasure trove of knowledge passed down from their ancestors. The diversity of paddy grains is intimately linked with the cultural, nutritional, and ecological biodiversity of the region and people’s lives. Through the conversations of Jinid’s grandparents, we can savour the melodious names of the rice varieties—Kalamaliphool, Ranikajal, Jeeraphool, Noichi-Dhaan, Garib-Sal… We learn which rice will grow best in the wetlands, which seeds will survive scattered showers, which grains will tolerate cyclone and flood-like situations, which rice maand is naturally sweet, what varieties are medicinal, how do these rice varieties preserve the soil and nurture all the other species dependent on them and so much more—this knowledge, built on generations of Adivasi cultivators’ careful observations and seed preservation efforts, highlights the rich food diversity that has been passed down and sustained. As Jinid’s grandmother reminds us at one point, rice is much more than the nutrients it may provide: it is the very source of life.
What happens then when this source of life and dignity is threatened by a man in dark clothes and shoes? Promising higher yields, quicker selling, and uniform-looking white rice which will cure all sickness, a hybrid variety of rice is introduced en masse. The diktat of this ‘revolution’ rice comes along with synthetic ‘PPP’ petrochemical-based supplements to prepare the soil. The book follows the story of the changing landscapes of Jinid’s village as the community members respond to this ‘invention’ imposed upon their village.
Although told in fictionalized terms, this narrative speaks to very real conversations and circumstances around the erosion of food diversity and sovereignty. For one, it’s alluding to the reality of large-scale chemical fortification of rice supplied through the Public Distribution System in States like Jharkhand. Foisted upon rural, poor people at a large scale who have been given no choice in the matter, these new grains are referred to as ‘plastic rice’ by many rice-growing farming communities. Born out of Anumeha Yadav’s work as a researcher and journalist in Jharkhand on India’s public sector food programmes, this visual narrative holds in it the potential to sit with the questions and complexities of food-politics in India, rather than succumbing to easy techno-solutionism. It also allows us to envision alternative ways of life for the future, remembering our older resilient and diverse food cultures.
In the story, Jinid’s village community comes together to respond to the crisis quickly and a neat story arc emerges—perhaps a bit too neat. The everyday life of people’s resistance in the face of assimilationist policies is slow and arduous; it is lived in various small and big struggles, and victories are few and far between. More than a picture book with a linear narrative, this book’s strength is as a visual archive and testimony to people’s solidarities in the face of extractionist policies and food monocultures. Using mixed-media design which bring rich illustrations and photography together, the team at Spitting Image breathes life into this story of Jinid’s village, which is also the story of many communities across India. At the core of this simply written and visually captivating narrative is a plea to preserve these resilient seeds, forests and rivers which nurture us, so that we can keep alive the taste of spring.