Awakened soil

MIRA MADHAV is an inspired writer from Austin, Texas. Here, she writes about Kanha Shanti Vanam from a very different perspective, bringing new understanding to our relationship with the Earth. 

For longer than I can remember, not many souls stood on me nor visited me. I can’t blame them. Would you want to stand or visit a dusty, shadeless, hard-baked, barren land? A few neem trees did keep me company through countless sunrises and sunsets.

Some days, vague memories floated over me, hinting of cooling water running in channels, of people working the land to grow their vegetables. Constant droughts drove them away, and I was left alone with the Neem trees.

The sun for eons just baked me dry. I cracked up and just tolerated the heat each day, and enjoyed the coolness and the star-cladded sky each night. Each day passed with patience and dreams. Dreams of one day having cobras caress my surface, bearing plenty of trees for birds to chirp from, and of hearing the sound of water droplets hitting the leaves and dripping on to me. Ahh, just these thoughts perked me up.

Located in the second driest region in Central India, I am a piece of the Deccan plateau. Three hundred acres of it. According to the human source Brittanica, we are supposed to be the oldest, most geologically stable region, standing between 300 to 750 meters above sea level. To the west of us, lush green chains of mountains and hills run along the coastal plains of the Arabian Sea. This area from the North to the southern tip of India is known as the Western Ghats. Rain falls generously over this region, and it is graced with the sources of several major rivers: Krishna, Godavari, and Kaveri. These rivers run from the West to the East, meandering across us. The greenness must be so soothing for the eyes, and the songs of the birds, the sounds from water roaring and gurgling down the mountains and over hills, so uplifting for the ears.

Some of these rivers have been used to irrigate parts of the Deccan Plateau. There are still some productive farms not too far away from me. So I know I too can be productive, if people are willing to invest in me.

My area slopes down from the Western Ghats boundary to the East, where low ranges of hills run from the Northeast to the Southwest, following the Bay of Bengal coastline. The rivers Krishna and Godavari run through these hills, known as the Eastern Ghats, into the Bay of Bengal.

My past might be full of feuds. From the 4th Century B.C.E. to 1947 A.D., the Deccan Plateau saw dynasty upon dynasty and several empires fight to rule over us for our mineral wealth. Could these feuds have left me barren? I don’t know. A year after India gained independence from the British Empire, I became part of the Hyderabad State. That year was 1948, and a few years later, in 1956, my state decided to merge with Andra Pradesh. Nothing really changed for me; however, the city of Hyderabad, about 48 kilometers north-east from me, flourished. Already a thriving city under the various rules, the city now grew to become a hub for Information Technology and pharmaceutical companies. The growth in wealth saw high-rise buildings and an international airport take over the land. Being so far away, I am not aware of much else that goes on there.

Feuding just seems to be part of this area. It turns out that the Telugu-speaking people did not get along with the rest of Andra Pradesh, and so in 2014 the area where Telugu was the primary language became Telangana, the 29th state of India. Now I am a part of Telangana, which borders Maharashtra and Chhattisgarh in the North, Andra Pradesh in the South and the East, and Karnataka in the West.

This year also marked the beginning of my major metamorphosis, the pupa stage, so that I can emerge as Kanha Shanti Vanam, “The Forest of Peace” and the world headquarters of the Heartfulness Institute.

I don’t recall how they arrived. However, one day a few humans walked on me. Vague memories of feuds traversed over me, and I controlled my shuddering. As far as I know, I don’t house any diamonds or precious gems, so I let the fear subside.

Wearing long-sleeved light cotton shirts and trousers, they walked around, lost in their own thoughts. Their eyes and their quietness lulled me. Soothing-ness filled me up.

A round faced man spoke up. His voice had kindness in it: “Dr. Ramakantha, I want a rainforest here.”

A rainforest! Did he say rainforest? I was not sure I felt the correct sound vibrations. Those words awakened the sounds from my dream—leaves rustling with the breeze, pitter-patter of the raindrops, and the bird songs. I began to see the tree canopy, the vines hanging from them, the orchids growing on the branches, and monkeys swinging from them. I felt the wetness, the coolness, and I felt alive.

“Sir, rainforest species don’t survive in Hyderabad. They die.”

As they walked away, my hopes slightly dashed. However, the trust remained. I trusted that the calm, round-faced man would sprout a rainforest on me. That night while enjoying the delightful star studded sky these words kept flowing.

Rainforest, rainforest, rainforest a reigning. 
Trees, orchids, birds, and gently raining.
Green, moist, cool, and blue, all soothing. 
Rainforest, rainforest, rainforest a reigning.
A few days later, they were back.

If I could cry, tears of joy would have torrented out. My core was filling up with inexplicable warmth and love. Love from where? From these humans? The tones in their voice, their eyes, and their footsteps all had a deep sense of kindness, of caring. They seemed to be connected to their hearts.

The round faced man spoke again. “Dr, Ramakantha, I want an Amazon forest here.”

He wanted an Amazon forest here! This man was serious, very serious, and I was right in trusting that he would sprout a rainforest on me. My whole being was puffing up.

Scratching his head, a man wearing a gray-brimmed cloth hat, and a dark waist coat replied, “Sir, Amazon forest can’t come here.”

I began to deflate, however I held on to my trust.

He continued, “However, I can procure some endangered tree species from our Western Ghats.”

I could not believe the ears I don’t have. They would bring trees from the lush green Western Ghats! An urge to cartwheel, somersault, and jump arose, and I had to dampen it down. I couldn’t have them think I am prone to earthquakes.

Finally, I would be hosting trees. However, my soil is so dry, porous, and not very fertile. With hardly any rain here how will they survive?

It turns out the man whose heart was set on creating a rainforest and known as Daaji to the group of people who have been surveying me, is a scientist. The gentleman Daaji calls Dr. Ramakantha, a retired Chief Conservator of Forest from the Indian Forest Services.

Knowing this, I knew a great transformation was going to take place, and when the volunteers arrived in large numbers with spades and truck loads of dark material, I was not afraid. They worked with all their hearts, reverentially digging an array of equally distanced round holes.

Daaji had found the solution to my infertile, porous soil. Black cotton soil. It retains moisture, so he suggested filling the holes with it. His other big suggestion was to use bio-char, which was produced on-site by burning twigs and branches in mud pits. Bio-char, while very light, black and crumbly, is excellent in soaking up and retaining nutrient-rich fluids, and slowly releasing them into the soil. I guess the release rate is that at which the roots take up the moisture. The holes were now ready for the trees.

And the trees started to arrive in truck loads, from the neighboring state of Kerala, and Karnataka. All were saplings in containers. They were so young and so flexible that it was hard to trust that they would survive. When these trees arrived, so did many volunteers. They arrived from around the world—lots of them, too numerous to count. They also brought bottled water with them to aid with the water requirements of the trees.

Water was going to be heavily required, and the water table was about 183 meters below my surface. So these humans were also busy designing ways to collect the rainwater, by directing the flow into reservoirs. The first reservoir they dug was to hold approximately one million liters of water from the monsoon rain. They had forgotten how porous, or should I say how thirsty I was, and so the very first collection of water simply vanished to fill up the water table. Daaji’s team was quick to realize they needed to line this reservoir, and today it retains the collected water. They made use of the many waterways that already existed on me but were covered by silt over several decades. During the designing of the water collection paths, they even found a stepped well buried in silt, which they repaired.

While some team members were working on harvesting the water, other volunteers, led by Dr. Ramakantha and guided by Daaji, were planting trees. Each sapling was lovingly offered a place to spread their roots into me with a prayer for its heathy growth.

Joyfully, they rooted the trees. 
Singing, chatting, laughing
they sent harmonious vibration 
traversing over me.

They planted:

Canarium strictum, an endangered tree due to the illegal harvesting for its medicinal properties;

Sacraca asoca, locally known as the Sita-Ashoka tree and a vulnerable plant;

Artocarpus hirsutus, commonly known as the wild jackfruit, also an endangered species due to the illegal harvesting for its wood;

Madhuca bourdilloni, yet another endangered species;

Syzygium travancoricum, known to the lay person as Kerala jamun. Only about 25 trees exist in the wild.

In between these trees, they planted Vites trifolia, which provided coolness for the forest area.

Cleverly, they also planted Sesbania grandiflora, commonly known as the Agathi tree. These trees grow rapidly from seed, and so provide great shade and nitrogen to the endangered species, thus enabling them to thrive.

And they are thriving; not only that, they are now bearing fruits. While some saplings did not grow up, all the species planted have survived.

As for the watering of the forest area, the people were creative and adapted the means to water the forest as needed. They started with sand-filled PVC pipes near the roots. Sand also holds water and releases it as demanded by the roots. As the forest canopy grew they used rain guns, a mechanism that shoots water jets over the canopy.

The rain guns were so cooling; the sound of water gushing out made me think of waterfalls. Often, the spray reached my surface, and I felt cleansed.

Using carefully calculated nutrient mixtures, the trees were fed regularly on demand. This was to ensure that no water or nutrients were lost through porous me. Hardworking, yet cheerful volunteers willingly took on this tedious task.

Mother Nature was pleased with their selfless efforts and rewarded them with rain. Before all this work, I received about 600 to 550 mm of rain. Now, during the monsoon season, I get drenched by about 2,300 mm of rain! They had to dig out two smaller reservoirs to harvest the water runoff from these rains. The water table below me is a lot higher now, so these reservoirs did not have to be lined for water retention.

While all this work was being done on about five to six acres of my surface, over my other areas, people were re-planting huge trees. Trees marked to be felled to make way for highways, or to build residential areas, were uprooted from their locations and transported on massive trucks to me. Using heavy lifting equipment, volunteers lowered these trees into holes, alongside roadways built to facilitate easy access to all my other areas. This initiative has saved about 1000 trees, fifteen of which have been Banyan trees, some as old as 150 years. They saved 20 Peepal trees, which were 20 to 30 years old, and about 60 coconut trees.

I am looking greener and greener every day.

Over seven years, I have been transformed into a living, lush green landscape, a home to trees as well as buildings.

The heart of all of the buildings is the meditation center.

Occupying 30 of my acres, it is magnificent. It is comprised of a big central hall, with smaller halls circumambulating around it. These meditation halls have domed ceilings about 24 meters high, and their floors are cooled by running water underneath them. They are open-sided allowing air to flow through them. These domes remain at a comfortable temperature regardless of the heat outside. Some of these smaller halls serve as auditoriums and conference centers. Together, they can seat 100,000 people!

All these people need to be fed. Some of my acres are used for organic farming, growing local fruits and vegetables. To ensure year-round yield of produce, seven hydroponics farms have also been established.

People need a place to stay, and I now house several options for the visitors to choose from—a hotel, dormitories, and apartments.

Visitors will generate waste, and grey and black water. The motto for Kanha Shanti Vanam is “Green Kanha.” And green they thrive to be. They have constructed wetlands to purify the grey and black water, and I am not sure how it all works. However, these treated waters are used to water the green parts of me.

To keep my soil fertile, they compost all the food waste created by the visitors.

I have to confess, with all the elegant, sophisticated, and sustainable buildings, and all the thoughtful green methods that have been implemented on me, my pride of place is still the rainforest.

With all the underground water pipes, storm drainage pipes, and the underground electrical grid, I still find the underground supportive root network among the trees more healing. I guess because it is a very alive, life-giving network, constantly extending its tentacles downward, and outwards. The tickles they cause remind me I too am a life sustaining place now.

This group of humans continues to promote the growth of trees. On my acres they have created a Heartfulness Tree Conservation Center. Here they use plant tissues from endangered species to grow saplings, a process which is far faster than grown from seed. These saplings, are planted at different location throughout India, by Forest by Heartfulness, another center of Kanha Shanti Vanam.

A question keeps coming to my mind. Why did Daaji insist on planting a rainforest? Why do trees matter so much to him?

Dr. Ramakantha, too, was puzzled about the desire for the rainforest, and this is what he explained: “Rainforest means species rich—the most species rich terrestrial ecosystem. A whole lot of them are dying out, and when you create a rainforest, this becomes Noah’s Ark.”

About why trees matter so much to Daaji, he has this to say: “Trees are essential for our life on this planet. Their role and usefulness are beyond measure, and often beyond our understanding. Apart from the obvious gifts—life-giving oxygen, food, shelter and medicines—trees also retain spiritual charge better than most human beings, thus preserving a beautiful atmosphere in the environment and helping us to maintain balance at a subtle inner level. Trees are good for our overall well-being and it is our duty to protect existing trees from being destroyed whenever possible. One tree saved is equivalent to hundreds of trees being planted.”

Now the question arises, who is Daaji? He has such great respect for the environment, as well as all forms of life. His always speaks with patience and kindness.

From what I can sense, Daaji is a guide to those who have helped transform me, and to many more throughout the world. His guidance seems to help them be more contented, and harmonious within them- selves, and hence with the world in which they live.

Daaji fulfilled my desire to be useful, host life, be caressed by cobras, have monkeys jump upon me, and hear bird songs. My soil has been awakened, and I am a small Noah’s Ark.

Sources of information:

Conversation with Santosh Khanjee, a key consultant in the project.
Conversation with Ragini Khanjee, a member of Heartfulness Institute.

https://www.britannica.com/place/India/The-Deccan
https://www.britannica.com/place/Deccan
https://www.britannica.com/place/Hyderabad-India 
https://www.telangana.gov.in/about/state-profile/ 
https://www.heartfulness.org/kanha 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_03SIa0Rpk
https://www.iamrenew.com/green-transportation/translocation-successstory-kanha-shanti-vanam/ 
https://www.daaji.org/about