To the outside eye, the city-dweller, or passer-by, the Rishi Valley may seem like a fabulous weekend retreat – a breath of fresh air from the toils of urbanization and industrialization. One can bask in the beauty of the hills, be immersed in the sounds of children laughing, rest in peaceful solitude beneath the wisdom of the banyan trees….and then peace out before their inbox is flooded or they’ve had enough of the “RESTRICTED MOBILE PHONE USE” policy.
To those of us who are here on a more permanent basis, I’ve come to learn that the Rishi Valley isn’t so much a place, but a way of thought. There is a certain kind of individual who consciously and voluntarily moves out of urban India to the middle of nowhere – far away from the globalized epicenter of “India 2010”. These individuals come to this place as much to teach as they do to learn. They bring with them their education, new ideas, and respect for traditional knowledge. They have a shared love for humanity, for nature, for their country. They are proud of their heritage, firmly grasp the realities of the present, and instill hope for the future. And they walk….a lot.
Walking has become a part of my life here. Fresh out of grad school and an American pace far away from the Rishi Valley lifestyle, I’ve personally challenged myself to learn to love the silence, the solitude, and the resulting thoughts that flow in and out of my head. We’ll call it a work in progress…but progress, none the less.
This morning I went on a walk with a legend named Mr. Naidu. Mr. Naidu has been a part of the Rishi Valley School since 1960. He began as a Phys Ed teacher and ended as a nationally recognized ecologist. Much of the environmental restoration of the Rishi Valley from the past half-century can be attributed to his work. An old man now, he invited me to “take a walk” with him up into the hills as he recalled the last 50 years of his life.
Watching Mr. Naidu slowly make his way up the dirt path behind the school – passing rock walls he built around the land he worked to protect, taking careful steps on the stones he’s walked thousands of times, and naming every tree in sight along with the dates his students planted the seeds – was beyond inspiring. Here was this man from the nearby town of Madanapalle who simply wanted to save the valley and community that he was a part of. The solutions he created didn’t come from text books or conferences, they came from simply watching what was happening around him.
As we walked up the hill, we came to a densely, forested area that he called “the air-conditioned room”. Perpendicular to the path and downward slope of the land, were long, carved-out trenches – one after the other. He began a story about watching the water during a heavy rain rush down the hill one day on a walk. He decided to build ditches – on top of which his students planted native trees – to divert the water from the main flow and act as a storage container for the plant life. Totally fascinating.
The morning went on like this – story after story of the systems he created to conserve the scarce water supply of the valley. When we finally reached a clearing near the top, we looked out over the Rishi Valley and his life’s work was visibly apparent: a line of green stretched clear into the distance and then abruptly stopped at the edge of the Valley. Beyond lay the barren, rocky hills of draught, over-grazing, and stripped land.
Mr. Naidu instructed me to read chapter 24 out of the book “The Ends of the Earth” (R. Kaplan) prior to our walk. The author had made a visit to Rishi Valley some years ago, taken a similar walk with Mr. Naidu, and written about his experience more eloquently than I ever could:
“Rishi Valley shows that there is hope, that we as a species will not necessarily destroy ourselves. But it also taught me that if these hopes are to be realized, then solutions must emerge locally. Hope and solutions cannot be imported by big government or from international bureaucracies thousands of miles away” (p355).
Sit on that one, folks.
In other news, this small-town girl will be venturing off to the big city of Chennai in the morning to get in some Fellow love. As excited as I am to see friends and soak up the city for a few weeks while all the kiddos are on holiday, I’m a bit sad to leave this place as well. I’ve gotten into a routine here and things have begun to feel familiar and comfortable. But then I remind myself, “Ummm…you’re in INDIA!” So alas, India, here I come.
I thought I’d close with a few of my most recent monkey stories…seeing as how they’re such a big hit with Grandma and the rest of the fam.
Monkey Story #1: It was snack time one afternoon and I was having my E.T.T. (evening tea and tiffin) with an eight-year-old friend of mine. Suddenly, the thunderous sound of monkeys scrambling across the tin-roof of the Dining Hall made us both jump in our seats. “Monkeys,” I mumbled under my breath. “I hate monkeys.” My small friend stared at me aghast. He was outraged.
“What??! You don’t like monkeys? But they’re Gods!!”
It was as though I had just sat on his pet puppy. I felt horrible for demonizing his beloved monkeys. I was about to retract my previous statement when the conversation abruptly shifted (mid-samosa bite) to whether or not Tarzan was, in fact, a true superhero.
Monkey Story #2: Saturday evening I had just returned from a walk and stopped to chat with my roof-top neighbors through their screen door. Their 2-year old daughter suddenly pointed at me and made the Indian sound of a dog (English translation: woof woof), which I soon realized in 2-year old speak actually meant “monkey”. I turned around and there was a giant mama monkey sitting comfortably on the ledge less than a foot behind me. I screamed, the 2-year old laughed, the monkey stared awkwardly at me for a minute and then walked away.
The end.
I loved the monkey stories, Lindsey. We think of you all the time and so enjoy the blog.
Your enrtries make me feel that I am with you there. I wish I were young enough to come and see for myself, but I’ll have to be content to enjoy your experiences vicariously.
I will send your blog site to a friend, Dave Phelps, who loves India from his travel there and hiking in the Himalayas. He too is confined by age and other obligations and has been unable to come himself recently.
Aunty Phyl
hey!…i got access to your blog through facebook!…i passed out of rv in 2009….i think your walk with mr.naidu is written beautifully…i feel sad though that not many students from recent years know anything about him or his work or of so many other people who work all their life to enrich the beautiful valley…really appreciate the fact that you chose to mention him..and oh ya by the way even i know of him because of my dad who was naidu sir’s student as a kid in rv! : )
Hey thanks for the comment – it meant a lot to hear from an RV alum! All the best to you in your future!
I thoroughly enjoyed reading your blog. You have written beautifully about your long trek with Naidu sir and meeting with the estate manager. My son is currently studying at RV and I am really proud of my association with the school. I am rather addicted to reading RV blogs and news. Please continue to write and update us with your fascinating experiences.
Hi Lindsey,
I was searching for WordPress blogs on my old alma mater on a lazy Friday afternoon, and was delighted to read your stories from Rishi Valley. I studied in RV early to mid 90s, and its more than just a school for a lot of us. Its a way of life, a place we called home for most of the year, and some sort of Xanadu whose memories you hold for life.
I briefly glanced through multiple blog posts and photos, and can see you are making a huge lifestyle change working with the rural health center / development programs in RV.
On my last visit there a few years back, the valley was as lovely as ever. But I heard the old water scarcity problem is rearing its ugly head from time to time, and it’s nice to see many people working hard to address this over time.
Nice to hear Naidu sir is still active. He is such an inspiration to so many generations of RVites.
Hope you find the experience rewarding, and I look forward to reading more.
Cheers!
Vasu
Vasu,
Thanks so much for the kind words – I look forward to getting to know this place even more in the months to come!
All the best,
Lindsey