agriculture – The Woke Yogi

Tourists in Tiger Territory

The morning air in Basanti was warm, with smog draped over the pink-orange sunrise like a thick layer of grey chiffon. After a 2-hour drive southeast from my Dadu Ji’s (granddad’s) house in Kolkata, we had reached the far edges of the state of West Bengal and indeed the outer borders of the country of India, but we had not yet escaped the ring of air pollution that surrounds the city center.

The streets of Basanti town were abuzz with shopkeepers preparing their wares, mother cows bellowing to their young, and tropical birds cheerfully singing the tunes for which they were named: papiha (Common Hawk-Cuckoo), kokila (Asian Koel), kowah (Crow). Their songs were underscored by the incessant thrumming of mosquitoes, menacing man and animal alike as they flitted in search of their next victims. Mosquitoes, I believe, were put on this planet to humble humans — after all, their mere presence reduces us from power-hungry predators to paltry prey.

We unloaded our car briskly, swatting the air vigorously all the while, then made our way to the waterside, where a sign welcomed us:

Sundarbans National Park & Tiger Reserve

A boat and its crew awaited us at the dock: the Delta Queen, captained by a majestically mustached man named Mrittunjoy. The Delta Queen was our ticket into the Sundarbans, the world’s largest mangrove forest situated within the world’s largest river delta. Spanning two countries (India and Bangladesh) and nearly 4,000 square miles, this region boasts a wide range of flora and fauna, with over 200 bird species alone. But the jungle, we were told, was full of terrible dangers—ranging from tree roots to tigers to territorial bees – and thus the water was the safest place for us to observe its biodiversity.

Mangrove trees are unique in that they have aerial roots or “breathing roots” that grow up and out of the water-logged soil. This incredible adaptation has enabled mangroves to thrive in extremely harsh, saline environments; however, these breathing roots are also very sharp and hazardous for land-dwellers.

Just as the sun began to peek out from behind its ashen curtain, the Delta Queen embarked on its 3-day journey into the Sundarbans Delta, where the sacred Ganges River empties into the Bay of Bengal. Mrittunjoy had a keen eye for spotting birds, and he promptly began to point out Kingfishers concealed in masses of mangrove roots. He soliloquized about the species of the Sundarbans; about the sea and its stringent saltiness; about the sweets that might be served at snack-time. Within only a few hours, we had seen deer, monitor lizards, birds of prey, and hundreds of mudskippers along the canal shores.

This amazing shot of a Black-Capped Kingfisher was captured by my incredibly talented uncle, Partha Pratim Saha. You can check out more of his photography on his Instagram and website.

Then, in the late afternoon, as our boat wove down a wider waterway, my sister leapt up from her seat and pointed excitedly towards land. I craned my neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of an elusive Bengal tiger. Instead, I saw…

A woman. She balanced a pot on her head as she retreated from the riverbank, the pleats of her sari swaying in time with her gait. I squinted at this sight, struggling to see what had attracted my sister’s attention.

“People live out here?” my sister asked in awe.

Despite the dangers advertised to us, people do in fact live out there: 4.5 million on the Indian side and even more in Bangladesh. Much of the Sundarbans is protected as a nature reserve, but this region is still one of the most densely populated in the world. The fertile floodplains surrounding the delta are ideal for agricultural production, and there are small fishing villages on the islands within the delta. These settlements are simple and extremely rural, sometimes only accessible by boat.

Discomfort settled over me as I realized that we had been observing these villagers with unabashed scrutiny, just as we had been observing the flora and the fauna. They’re not here for my viewing pleasure, I scorned myself. Yet, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. The sight of this woman was jarring, I realized, because her life was so necessarily attuned and inextricably tethered to the patterns of the earth: the comings and goings of the rains, the cycles of the moon, the ebbs and flows of the tide. Every morning, while I stumble to my bathroom and turn on the tap, this woman carries a pot down to the riverside and fetches her water straight from the Sundarbans Delta. Though united by our shared humanity, I couldn’t help but feel species away from her, as distant as I felt from the exotic Kingfishers.

Over the remainder of our jungle cruise, Mrittunjoy pointed out local fishing boats and informed us about the villagers’ practices of collecting honey from wild rock bees. He explained that the locals fish the delta from June to December, then pause all fishing activities and collect honey between March and May to ensure sustainable harvesting practices. As he continued to intersperse facts about the local people’s customs with his commentary on cobras and crocodiles, my unease grew. I became acutely aware of the separation between us and them; between our tour boat and the Sundarbans – their home.

Indeed, from the safety of our tour boat, it was all too easy to view these villagers as another species altogether; to assume that they are somehow less susceptible to the forecasted dangers of the Sundarbans simply by virtue of surviving there everyday. This is not the case. The villagers enter the jungle at their own peril, for tiger attacks are common. Yet, they have no choice; aquaculture and beekeeping are the only ways for them to make a living. In this way, the villagers are equal contributors to the Sundarbans ecosystem; they survive on the offerings of the jungle, at any time prone to becoming offerings themselves – whether to tigers or to mosquitoes. Sometimes predators, sometimes prey, these villagers remind us that humans are but one species acting within complex, multi-species ecosystems. They challenge the illusion that humans are always, unequivocally, at the top of the food chain.

Some more breathtaking captures of the Sundarbans food chain by my uncle, Partha Pratim Saha.

But then, if the villagers are prey, what is it that seeks to predate them? Is it really the tigers, prowling innocently in search of their next meal? Or is it the tour companies that ferry paying foreigners out by the dozens, predatory in their promise of ‘exotic experiences’ at the expense of ecological peace? These tour companies are required to hold permits, and they are (in theory) regulated by strict legislation. But the laws prohibiting pollution are not enforced – I personally witnessed a great deal of waste during our three days onboard the Delta Queen. Though I remained firmly on the boat, I was drawn into this larger socio-political ecosystem of the Sundarbans, animated not by waters and winds but by neoliberal greed and corruption. We may have been safe from the jungle, but the jungle was not safe from us.

In climate change discourse, humans are usually positioned against nature — and for good reason! Humans have too often exploited nature’s balance to our gain. However, I reject the notion that humans are always and can only ever be antagonistic forces on nature. As we see in the Sundarbans, humans can be protectors and stewards of their lands; they, too, can contribute to ecological balance. We need only to remember that we are – despite our daily differences – the same species as the villagers of the Sundarbans. We are products of our environments, not just polluters of them.

Though protected as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the fragile brackish ecosystem of the Sundarbans is extremely vulnerable to climate change, and many of its inhabitant species are endangered—including humans!! Rising salinity levels, coastline erosion, cyclones, and floods threaten to disrupt the precarious natural balance of the Sundarbans and displace the millions of people who live there, triggering an environmental refugee crisis. We cannot allow this to happen!

Climate change is NOT inevitable OR irreversible.

We are ALL a part of this global ecosystem, and we all stand to benefit by saving it.

If you are interested in learning more about the Sundarbans, or if you’d like to donate in support of its inhabitants, please visit the links below:

Read about/ see maps of the Sundarbans UNESCO World Heritage Site

Read Misreading the Bengal Delta by Camelia Dewan

Donate to the Sundarban Foundation to support tiger victims and other humans in the Sundarbans through medical aid, employment, and education.

Donate to The Canopy Project Sundarbans to support environmental conservation and restoration.

Donate to AID India to support natural disaster relief and climate resilience infrastructure.

Photo by Partha Pratim Saha

The Truth About Birthright Israel – Part One

I inherited Jewishness from my mother, so I have had the bittersweet experience of visiting Israel for free. Yes, for FREE. The Israeli government runs a program called “Taglit (Discovery)-Birthright Israel,” otherwise known as “Birthright Israel” or simply, “Birthright.” This program sponsors ten-day trips to Israel for all Jews between the ages of 18 and 26, and it covers ALL expenses, including airfare, accommodations, meals, transportation, and cultural experiences. The eligibility requirements are straightforward: you must have at least one parent of Jewish descent or have converted to Judaism through a recognized Jewish movement. As the name implies, the program is founded on the assumption that all Jews have a birthright to discover the Jewish homeland and connect with their Jewish identity. Readers, perhaps you see where this is headed, but dear readers…I did not.

Here, I must pause to make a disclaimer: not all Jews are Zionist. I do not believe that any religion or perceived birthright is justification for violence, oppression, and apartheid. Make no mistake — Israel is an apartheid state. For this reason, I will continue to refer to my Taglit trip as “birthright,” because I do not feel that Jews have any more birthright over that land than the people who have resided there for centuries. Furthermore, I use the terms “Israel” and “occupied Palestine” to refer to the same region; “Israel” occasionally in the context of the Jewish state, “occupied Palestine” everywhere else.

Despite my staunch opposition to modern political Zionism, I do not wish to downplay the beauty of Judaism in my attempt to expose the lesser-known truths about Taglit-Birthright. It was an enormous privilege to visit this region and experience its history. This article covers Jewish history and Israeli culture; please visit Part Two to read about the parts of my trip that left a sour taste in my mouth: the discrimination, the propaganda, and the shocking geo-political realities of the Zionist state.

THE TRIP

My “Birthright Israel” journey took place in summer of 2018, shortly after I trained to become a yoga teacher. By that time, I had connected profoundly with my Indian heritage, and I yearned to do the same with my Jewish roots. I thought, an all-expenses-paid opportunity to learn about Jewish history and culture? Sign me up! Ultimately, I did learn about Jewish history and culture, but I was not entirely pleased by my findings.

Our itinerary was jampacked, and we didn’t even have time to recover from the jetlag before we were piled onto a coach bus with the words “Taglit-Birthright” emblazoned on the side. In ten short days, we were shuttled from border to border to take in all the sights and sounds of occupied Palestine. We never stayed in one hotel for more than two nights; we never ate at the same place twice; we truly experienced a lot of the country through the eyes of Israeli settlers. Here are some of the highlights from my trip:

West Asian Agriculture

In the Shomron region in northern occupied Palestine, we visited Kibbutz Ein-Shemer. A Kibbutz is an intentional community traditionally based on agriculture, so we explored Ein-Shemer’s greenhouses and fruit orchards to learn about the community’s history, as well as the role of agriculture in Israel’s economy. Several Kibbutz members joined us to discuss their lifestyles and daily activities on the Kibbutz, and they even invited us to enjoy some fresh fruits and veggies from the greenhouses!

At the end of our Kibbutz tour, each of us were given a dove to release. To this day, I have no idea why we did this. Perhaps they were attempting a symbolic gesture of peace? Let me know what you think in the comments.

Graffiti Tour in Tel Aviv

Tel Aviv, a vibrant urban center, plays host to a wide range of artists, many of whose mediums are the streets. As we wandered the city, our tour guide pointed out various works on building facades, mailboxes, fences, and sidewalks. He highlighted motifs in each piece and provided context on well-known graffiti artists, along with the socio-political messages that they attempt to convey through their work. We also visited some indoor galleries that showcased Tel Aviv’s more orthodox artisanship.

Yad Vashem Holocaust Memorial

Perhaps the most chilling and solemn moment of my trip was our visit to Yad Vashem, the World Holocaust Remembrance Center. Located on a hill overlooking Jerusalem, the museum is a long, narrow, dimly lit building with exhibitions designed to be viewed in a linear fashion. Our tour guide explained that the building’s structure invokes the Jews’ experience of the Holocaust, such that the visitor enters a long, dark tunnel with no end in sight. We spent more than three hours inside the museum, observing photos of concentration camps, simulations of gas chambers, and glass cases full of abandoned shoes. In seeing those snippets of Jewish life during the Holocaust, the gravity of their genocide fell upon me. The final exhibit is a dome-shaped room with floor-to-ceiling projections that flash rotating photos of Holocaust victims. In a poignant moment of collective grief, I wept alongside my Jewish peers for the loss of our ancestors.

When our tour concluded, we emerged from the dark building into daylight, where we paused before the vast landscape of the Holy Land. The gaping exit of Yad Vashem, our tour guide told us, symbolizes the liberation of the Jews from concentration camps and the ultimate creation of the new Jewish state, where Jews could finally be freed from generations of violence. Yad Vashem served as a profound reminder that the Holocaust continues to shape contemporary Judaism and its people.

No pictures included of the Holocaust memorial, for obvious reasons. This is the view of Jerusalem at the end of the museum.

Hezekiah's Tunnels under Jerusalem

As the Hebrew Bible foretold, the City of David (the ancient core of Jerusalem), rests upon a series of underground tunnels that were once used to transport fresh water from the Gihon Spring to the Siloam Pool—a life-giving source for the ancient peoples of Jerusalem. Largely regarded as an extraordinary and baffling feat of engineering, these tunnels are attributed to Hezekiah, the reigning King of Judah circa late 8^thcentury to 687 BCE. Biblical scholars believe that Hezekiah constructed these tunnels so that he could fortify against Assyrian invasion without compromising the city’s water source.

Modern Jerusalem has since implemented newer methods of irrigation, so Hezekiah’s tunnels have become a tourist attraction, allowing visitors to wade through stagnant water for a portion of the tunnels’ 533-meter length. Inevitably, this tour is a staple of “Birthright” trips, and we geared up with water shoes and shorts to descend underground. The tunnels are approximately two feet wide and pitch-black, with water levels ranging from ankle-deep to thigh-deep depending on the location (and your height, of course). Needless to say, I don’t recommend Hezekiah’s tunnels for anyone prone to claustrophobia, aquaphobia, or nyctophobia. However, this tour was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I was fascinated by the remarkable ancient infrastructure.

To my dismay, my “Birthright” peers did not take this tour as seriously. Rather than listening to our tour guide’s historical talk, they opted to vape, blast obscene music from their portable speakers, and chatter incessantly. As you might imagine, noises ricochet quite loudly in narrow, water-filled corridors. I often wonder whether my tour may have been more educational and less fear-inducing had I traveled with a more respectful group.

Camping with Bedouins in the Negev Desert

The Bedouin are nomadic Arab tribes that have herded animals such as sheep, goats, and camels throughout the deserts of Northern Africa and the Middle East since 6000 BCE. Some Bedouins have adopted urban, sedentary lifestyles in the last two centuries, while many others live semi-sedentary lifestyles. Large groups of the latter now inhabit tent settlements in the Negev desert in occupied Palestine. Despite their exposure to Israeli culture and politics, the Bedouins have retained their traditional customs and language (Arabic), which include “Bedouin Hospitality.” Thus, the Bedouins welcomed my “Birthright” group with open arms.

During our stay, we slept in a Bedouin tent for a night, partially exposed to the hot and sandy elements. The desert was so quiet—that night was my best sleep the whole trip. We shared a meal with our host tribe, comprised of lamb, rice, and a highly anticipated cup of Bedouin coffee: a dark, bitter roast with a unique blend of spices. We ate with our hands (just like in India!) while seated on cushions on the floor. A Bedouin man gave us a talk on their traditional art forms, which range from loom-woven textiles to clay pottery to animal-hoof utensils. The Bedouins also took us for a camel ride through the desert, which was somewhat of a roller coaster—the camels would kneel on their front legs to allow us to mount, then stand suddenly, one leg at a time, requiring us to hold on to the reigns for dear life.

The Dead Sea

The Dead Sea lies at the lowest land-based elevation on earth, bordered by Jordan to the East and occupied Palestine to the West. This body of water is not actually a sea at all, but rather a salt lake with such high levels of salinity that swimming in it is more like floating. Being one of the world’s saltiest bodies of water, the Dead Sea is a harsh environment for plants and animals, hence its name.

This historic landmark, mentioned throughout Jewish and Biblical literature, is one of the most anticipated destinations on the “Birthright” itinerary, but after wading into the waters, I began to wonder why. Within moments of my effortless float, inordinate amounts of salt began to seep into my skin and burn my nose, ears, nailbeds, and other unmentionable parts of my body. The experience of being lifted to the water’s surface was uncanny, but I didn’t linger to relish it. Nonetheless, I enjoyed the white sands and sunny sights of this natural marvel, grateful for the opportunity to visit.

Perhaps more famous than the Dead Sea itself is its mud: silt from the lake’s shores that has absorbed the water’s salinity. Many health and wellness companies have profited by packaging this mud into commercial mud masks, which are now sold globally. These entrepreneurial claims are not mere pseudoscience—medical researchers have established that high concentrations of salt and magnesium, among other minerals in the mud, can effectively treat a wide range of conditions, including psoriasis, arthritis, acne, and chronic pain. However, I was surprised to discover that Dead Sea tourists cannot simply dig up this miraculous mud. Instead, you must visit nearby spa shops that sell mud products for 70 to 350 Shekels. My group leaders graciously purchased several masks for us all to share, so I slathered myself in the magic elixir of yore. Maybe it cured me of all my ailments? Only time will tell.

Hiking Masada

Hebrew for “fortress;” Masada is a UNESCO World Heritage Site for two palaces built by Herod the Great. Masada was fortified during the 1^st century BCE to protect the palaces against Roman Siege. Situated atop an isolated plateau in southern occupied Palestine, Masada is only accessible by foot and by cable car. There are two trails that lead to the top of the plateau, both of which are perilously narrow and steep. My “Birthright” group traversed the Roman Ramp trail in the darkness of early morning, hoping to reach the summit in time to see the sun rising over the Dead Sea. Not much remains of the palace structures at the top, but the scenery was certainly stunning.

Shabbat (The Old City & The White City)

Also known as the day of rest, Shabbat is an ancient Jewish tradition wherein Jews refrain from work activities and take rest. Every week, Shabbat begins at sundown on Friday and continues through sundown on Saturday evening. Each Jewish family has unique Shabbat practices, but traditionally, Shabbat consists of three required meals: Friday night dinner, Saturday lunch, and Saturday dinner, with the first of these three being the most commonly observed. Religious Jews attend synagogue on Saturday morning to read the Torah and perform special Shabbat prayers. Other traditions include indulging in meat and other fancy foods, wearing nice clothes, lighting candles, and greeting others with the traditional greeting, “Shabbat Shalom!” Any form of work is strictly prohibited on Shabbat, so Jews perform housework on Friday to prepare, then spend Saturday socializing, eating, worshipping, and relaxing.

My “Birthright” trip spanned Friday to Sunday, so I celebrated two Shabbats in occupied Palestine. The first was spent in Jerusalem, the Old City, where we visited the Western (Wailing) Wall and learned about religious Shabbat customs. Then we lit candles, shared sentiments of blessings and gratitude with the group, and enjoyed a meal together.

Our second Shabbat took place in Tel Aviv, the White City. Not everyone who lives in occupied Palestine is Jewish, but many are—as a result, most businesses close at sundown on Friday and do not reopen until sundown the following day. It was fascinating to walk the deserted streets of this normally bustling city, knowing that everyone was at home, enjoying restorative communion with their friends and families.

The Western Wall

At the center of the Old City of Jerusalem is the Temple Mount, the holiest site in Judaism. The Temple Mount is thought to be the location of the Holy of Holies, a term used in the Hebrew Bible to denote a spiritual junction between Heaven and Earth; an inner sanctum where God’s presence appears. As such, two temples have been built in this spot to house this sacred sanctuary and its precious treasure: the Ark of the Covenant. The first temple was commissioned by King Solomon circa 10^th century BCE and stood until its destruction by the Neo-Babylonian Empire in 587 BCE. A second temple was constructed nearly a century later and served as a site of worship until its destruction by the Romans in 70 CE. A Third Temple has not yet been built, as the Temple Mount is currently occupied by the Dome of the Rock and Al-Aqsa Mosque, a site of religious significance in Islam.

Even still, this site retains historical importance and divine presence for Jews. The Temple Mount rests on a hill surrounded by retaining walls, one of which is the Western Wall. Entry to the Temple Mount is restricted, so Jews gather at the Western Wall to pray in proximity to the Holy of Holies, which is believed to lie just behind the wall.

Of all the things we did on my “Birthright” trip, our visit to the Western Wall was by far the most powerful and profound. The women were asked to cover our hair with scarves, and we were separated by sex; the men were directed to the left side, the women to the right. When we got close, we were permitted to touch the wall and pray for as long as we felt compelled. I must admit, I don’t have much of a relationship with the Jewish God (assuming He/ She is different from the divine forces I believe in), but I couldn’t help but be overcome by the tangible spirituality surrounding me as I approached the wall. On all sides, women pressed their faces and palms against the worn stone—some muttered prayers in hushed tones, while others loudly expressed their devotion; many more simply wept. A deep sense of loving faith hung in the air, like a warm blanket embracing all of us at once. I saw then and there why the Western Wall has been nicknamed the “Wailing Wall,” for even I was brought to tears.

To understate the great history and spiritual power that I experienced on my trip would be an immense disservice to occupied Palestine, as well as the people of all cultures and faiths that comprise its population. This small swath of land is a globally significant site for archeologists, biblical scholars, followers of Abrahamic religion, and world travelers alike; I consider myself lucky to have been able to explore even a fraction of it, let alone in the capacity Taglit enabled me to.

However, I cannot in good faith discuss the good parts of my “Birthright” trip without giving equal attention to the ethically concerning parts. I know now that my luxurious experience came at the expense of Palestinian lives. Please visit The Truth About Birthright Israel – Part Two to read about the not-so-subtle agenda of Taglit-Birthright Israel.

Tag: agriculture