She's 70, and she isn't satisfied with lending her dusty
village a banyan canopy. The lone ranger's next
dream: a hospital.
IF the economics of
the situation is a yardstick, this frail, old woman deserves a decent home and
more. A place where she could delight in the unequalled assets realised
conscientiously over more than four decades. Sadly, at 70, Thimmakka's cup of
woes almost runneth over. Living in a shanty with no one to call her own, with
eyesight failing, she has no immediate means of communication and the nearest
point of civilisation, Kudur, is four km away. Her village, Hulikal, about 70
km from Bangalore, with its smattering of poor cattle-tending families and a
largely arid landscape, lacks even a primary health centre.
Nothing unusual, one
would say about the travails of Thimmakka and her village, which doesn't even
have the geographical advantage of being located on a national highway. But she
is no ordinary village woman. She has an unsurpassed credit to her name—a row
of 284 sturdy banyan trees, which she has lovingly tended against all odds,
from mere saplings to a sweeping canopy.
The capital thus
wrought by this "Green Icon" is priceless. "The net value of
these trees is about Rs 15 lakh because banyan trees are used either for
packaging or as firewood. But if you factor in the cumulative effect on the
environment in terms of oxygen output, soil conservation, recharging the ground
water, a green canopy giving birds ample space for nests, then they are worth
crores of rupees," says Nagaraj Hampole, deputy conservator of forests,
Bangalore-Rural. The years of toil have yielded a late harvest. In time, as 284
banyan trees grew tall, plaudits began to pour in. A "living monument of
our times" is how the citation of National Citizen's Award, a panel
chaired by former chief justice P.N. Bhagwati, describes Thimmakka. Titles like
Vanamitra, Nisargaratna, Vrikshasri and Vrikshapremi, an award by Karnataka
government, have been conferred on her. In January '99, a $300 award as
Reader's Digest's "Hero for Today" was handed over to this woman.
For one who barely set
out of her village once a year, Thimmakka now finds her way to Delhi and Mumbai
for tree planting ceremonies. Citations now adorn the walls of her one-room
hut. But after her husband expired eight years ago, she barely ekes out a
living from various awards and a monthly pension of Rs 75. But nothing stops
her from dreaming big. She has been seeking the local panchayat's approval for
the construction of a hospital. The asset will be realised with the help of
funds deposited by Canara Bank and other agencies as awards. A trust has been
set up to secure land and for construction of the hospital. "Officials
tell me they can't build a hospital here for there's one in Kudur, and that
these two should be 8 km apart. But I know how two women went into labour here
because they couldn't reach the next town," she says.
And along with
battling the insensitive panchayat and red tapism, Thimmakka is busy spreading
the message of afforestation. She chose the banyan tree for the species was
freely available then. Besides, banyan, or the "bodhi" tree, is
revered in India. When the skies opened up, she built a bund to store water for
visitors to Hulikal's annual fair. She also fed stray cattle. All this in the hope
that she would have a child. But today she says: "I have enough children
(a reference to the 284 trees), now you too must achieve punya."
Saalumarada Thimmakka (the one who planted a row of trees) has never heard of
Sunderlal Bahuguna or any environmentalist. But as she soldiers on with plans
of tending to a dozen more saplings around Hulikal, she unassumingly suggests
that everybody should leave behind some asset for humanity. If you want to
contribute to her crusade, contact Saalumarada Thimmakka, Hulikal-561101,
Kudur, Hubli, Magadi Taluk, Bangalore-Rural dist. - By B.R. SRIKANTH
