Harvest the Potatoes! Alarm

Those were wrap up-wrap up, pack up-pack up days. And as always, I was late! It was harvest time for the potatoes that I had planted three months earlier at Bhakundey, Baglung for my LEE research work. For those who didn’t understand what I just wrote, just know that I had to harvest potatoes anyhow otherwise my college degree would be a suicide note.

We lived at Baglung Bazar and my field site was at Bhakundey, a one and half hour uphill climb in a Jeep. With huffel-puffle, I called a driver dai who introduced me to another driver dai who further contacted another guy and fixed two seats for me and my internmate, Aarati. And FYI, drivers of Baglung are the most versatile people whom you will ever meet. They will know about you in two minutes of small chit-chats. Tell their love story in the next minute, then start flirting with you, if time favours. They can tickle you to death with humor. Answer phone calls with the forever statement - ‘will be there in five minutes’. Hubba-hubba, a fantastic multitasker driving in the bumpy-sliding monsoon pathways and still able to drop you at the exact house of exact location no matter how confused you are with where to stop. Presumably, we were known as ‘Dui jana ghumantey thiti haru’ - ‘two girls who travel a lot’ among the Baglungey drivers, by the end of our intertime.

It was Ashar and the monsoon was at its peak. There were several landslides on the way to Bhakundey, so it wasn’t certain if we could reach there anytime soon. To top it off, there was a lockdown in Baglung because of increasing corona cases. We were supposed to be picked up by 12 PM that day, but the five minutes of ‘will be there in five minutes’ made us wait till 5 PM of the next day!

It was a double cab Mahendra bolero with 7 people seat. Ironically, the driver managed to cram 13 of us in those seats along with 2 people on the roof and kilos of ration in the cargo space. I was in the driver’s cab against the door with a buttock on the seat and another buttock in an existential crisis . The sleepless past nights for assignment submission, the fear that the door would open and I would fall off, the slippery bumpy road, the rhythmic jolts to the sides and the fear of corona, all engulfed me. A dialogue by Hansa in Khicchidi movie ‘jab musibat aati hai toh ek sath aati hai baisab’ was playing in repeat mode around my head. On a normal day, Bhakundey is 1 hr and 30 minutes uphill drive from Baglung Bazar but we were doubtful if it could take us there anytime that day. Many times we had to get out of the jeep so that it could cross puddles and streams. And everytime the jeeps were crossing the puddles, local children would come and gather to see. The driver asked a group of children to put stones in the puddles and earn money from passing drivers - “Timi haru sab le paisa kamauni kam garna paryo, dhunga bokera lyayera yo hilo bato ma halney, ani jo driver yo bato katxa, teslai paisa magney” to the children. The children giggled as a reply.

Another jeep overtook us in the meantime as if it were an ambulance with a dying patient but got stuck in a puddle just a few minutes later. The way was one-way, so we got stuck too. By that time, it was already dark and had started drizzling again. The driver did a biswas ghat- betrayed us and left us to go in another jeep heading in the same direction. The other jeep had 8 local magars who smelled like fermented rice. They said that they were going to meet Jhakri and left us midway. I caught a deep breath after getting out of the jeep as the jeep was full of a mixture of sweat, jaad - alcohol and creepy side looks from the eye corner of each passenger. It was pitch dark outside. Raining cats and dogs. Houses were nowhere in sight and now we couldn’t think on what to do next. Hansa’s dialogue increased its volume now. We lit our mobile light, opened an umbrella (thank god Aarati had brought one) and started walking uphill hopelessly as it was the only option left.

Thank god, one jeep came. It was the same stuck jeep. We waved and it stopped for us. There were already 16 passengers this time. One of the passengers sat on the other and made space for us. Again with the other buttock in existential crisis and the same dilemma of the opening door and me falling out, this time with added responsibility to be a seat to Aarti, I sat there to listen to the driver’s love story for the second time this day. It took us to the Home Stay. Uncle from home stay came to receive us. The surrounding was misty, we couldn't even see 20cm ahead with a torch. We followed uncle. We ate food and went to bed, the bed was full of earwigs running everywhere. We had to stay in the Uncle’s son's room, Vai wasn’t home.

It was a long day for us so we slept in one go. I was worried about tomorrow's plan. We had to complete our work by 8 AM tomorrow to return that day. We had planned to wake up at 5 AM and be in the research field, harvest potatoes, take data and catch an 8 AM jeep. The most irritating thing about Hills is that you have to shape your time according to the transport route. In a day 4 jeep climbs down the hill to Baglung bazar at around 8 AM and returns home by 5 pm with more or less the same passenger.

The next day, we woke up at 6. It was heavily raining and still misty. After changing our plans for like 10 times, we agreed to be in the field by 10 AM, harvest only the sample potato plants, pack them in bags, reserve a jeep and return to Baglung bazar by 4. As per plan, we headed to the field, it was still raining, we convinced some farmer to help us, harvested potatoes wearing a plastic raincoat and packed the sample in bags. It was 2 PM when we completed our work and to annoy us, the rain stopped just after we completed.

We called the driver to pick us from the field.

While returning, it was a calm feeling. Like a peace after a storm. Just two of us were in the jeep as passenger and ‘malai yo jindagi le kaha puryayo’ song in the background. I felt strong but dumb that day, seeing all the choices I made in the trip. I realized that I had to pay Rs. 4500 to the driver for taking us to Baglung Bazar. The irony here is the potatoes that we planted in 1 kattha land 3 months back only cost Rs. 3000 but it took us Rs. 4500 for us to take those potatoes to Baglung Bazar. The fertilizers, irrigation, labor plus the 3 month time yielded us Rs.3000 while the driver was taking away Rs.4500 for dropping us to our room in just 2 hours.

With this, I was forced to realize the power of money. Honestly speaking, if I had reserved a jeep to go to Bhakundey from Baglung a day earlier, and paid extra charges to the farmers, we wouldn’t have had to go to the field either. No rain-work. No convincing. No dilemmas. A happy trip. But with little learning.

While returning, the children were putting stones in puddles. The driver didn’t pay them but we both passed a thumbs up with big smile to all the children.

That day we reached our room by 5 PM, We were all hilo hilo- muddy. Neighbour came to see us as if we had came home winning gold medal in the Olympics ( for us it was a win though). We bathed. Cooked good food. Ate. Graded the potatoes wrt its weight and counted its number in each grade. Noted down the data for my research. It was 11PM when we went to bed. The next day was going to be more busier than today so I slept without even needing a film to fall asleep.