Meet the man who has devoted his life
to saving some of those now-famous native cattle breeds in his farm in the
heart of Tamil Nadu.
A
dappled calf saunters up. I offer it my hand. It nuzzles and then proceeds to
lick it. Another joins it, and yet another. I am enjoying the attention — until
a sudden tug distracts me. A tiny mouth has just begun nibbling the tassels of
my cotton dupatta. I beat a hasty retreat, almost landing ankle-deep in a mound
of steaming dung.
Ganesan
laughs and pats the head of the calf that has just tried to eat up my dupatta.
“This calf belongs to the Gir breed,” he says, drawing my attention to the
convex forehead and pendulous ears distinctive to the breed whose origins lie,
as the name suggests, in the Gir forest region of Gujarat.
C.
Ganesan is a slender, bespectacled man, wearing a dhoti, blue shirt and ready
smile. He runs what he calls an “experimental farm” in P. Chellandipalayam in
Karur district of Tamil Nadu, the state that exploded with the jallikattu
protests some weeks ago. Among the arguments extended by the fans of this
rather cruel bull race was that native breeds of cattle could be protected through
the sport. Experts spoke of how Indian cattle had vanished and of the higher
nutrient content in the milk of these cows.
Despite
the argument, the truth is that most cattle raised for dairy farming in India
is imported from abroad. Since these breeds are reported to yield much higher
quantities of milk, they are found more suitable for commercial use.
There
is merit in wanting to protect the hardier native breeds from extinction, but
clearly the solution lies in efforts that are far more effective, committed and
enduring than jallikattu. The 69-year-old Ganesan is among a handful of cattle
breeders in India making that effort.
The
road that leads to Ganesan’s farm is a kaccha, vertigo-inducing path flanked by
arid, patchy coconut groves, rust-coloured rocks, and acres of barren paddy
fields. Thorny scrub give way to worn fences but they offer scant protection
from the marauding peacocks, complains Ganesan, “I really need to fence these
fields properly,” he says with a shrug.
Ganesan
set up his farm some 13 years ago to prove that Indian breeds can give high
yields of milk, more than 15 litres a day: “My cows produce copious quantities
of milk and like all other local breeds have excellent immunity.” His farm has
only indigenous breeds. Besides Gir, there is Sahiwal and Tharparkar (named
after the Pakistani towns of their origin), a few buffaloes, the local Kangayam
breed, and a few head of Thalacherry goat.
Ganesan’s
family also owns a textile business but farming is in their blood. “Agriculture
is our ancestral occupation and we have been keeping cattle for a long time,”
he says. Earlier, the genial farmer’s animals were Jersey cross-breeds. “The
government recommends a mix of 65% Jersey with 35% native breed of cattle, but
this is hard for farmers to maintain,” he explains. “Proper breeding management
doesn’t happen in India.”
Then,
in 2003, he lost five Jersey cross-bred cows very suddenly, “They have poor
immunity and one had to keep replacing them,” he says. That’s when he began to
convert exotic cross-breeds into desi. “I purchased a few desi animals — around
10 Tharparkar cows. Also, I began inseminating my Jersey cross-bred cows with
semen samples taken from pure Indian breeds.”
There
are over 50 heads of pure Indian cattle on his farm now — of various colours,
shapes and sizes. A newly born calf totters up as we approach while its mother
fixes us with a steely gaze and lowers her horns. Pitch-black buffaloes swill
down water and bellow; red and white cows stick their heads into feeding
troughs; gambolling calves behind wire-netting peer curiously at us.
“The
easiest way to identify a desi breed is by the hump,” says Ganesan. And yes,
all humped cattle produce milk rich in the much-touted A2 milk protein. A2 milk
is excellent for children, he says, adding that it helps brain function and
promotes growth. The fodder, culled from the fields around him, does not have
pesticide and unlike commercial establishments he does not inject his cows with
oxytocin injections to induce lactation, “My grandchildren refuse to drink any
other milk or curd,” he laughs, as he leads me into his sparse office where a
hot cup of tea made with freshly-drawn milk awaits.
Milk,
however, is only a by-product of Ganesan’s experiment, “This is not a
commercial farm — it is only a model one,” he says, explaining that he sells
his milk at the ridiculously low rate of ₹30 per litre, “It must be the lowest
rate in Tamil Nadu,” he grins. But the milk reaches his customers within two
hours of milking.
What
Ganesan really wants to prove is that native Indian breeds are more than
capable of producing milk on a commercial scale. “The government doesn’t work
at improving their milk capacity. Even breeds like Kangayam, which are not
traditionally bred for milk, can produce up to six litres a day if the breeding
is done properly.”
According
to him, the best sort of cattle comes from artificial insemination done right.
Getting high quality semen samples can be challenging. Ganesan currently gets
his frozen samples from the National Dairy Development Board. “Once we get good
animals, the milk is automatically better.”
And
what role can jallikattu play in preserving desi breeds, I ask. “Those bulls
are not really used for breeding — they are trained to be ferocious,” he says,
and adds, “Anyway, jallikattu is not about preserving local breeds, it is about
men proving themselves.”
Source: The Hindu
