It's a lone, green island of tamarind trees floating in a vast, brown landscape dotted with shrubs. How this metamorphosis happened is an interesting story.
Four generations ago, a farmer discovered that a pair of peafowl had descended from the nearby hills and had decided to spend the rest of their lives in this idyllic village. As he had grown to be fond of this romantic pair, he used to follow their movements. He found out two things: During early mornings and late evenings they used to graze in the open farmlands nibbling at wheat, green gram, jawar and spring onions. And more importantly, at noontime they used to climb up into the dense branches of the lone tamarind tree in the village to cool their heels in the sweltering heat.
The farmer, a devout follower of Lord Khandoba who's known for his love for peacocks, knew that these special guests were a godsend. And he called like-minded farmers (and they were all like-minded folks in this simple village) and had a long meeting with them in the shade of the solitary tamarind tree. They took three important decisions. One, plant tamarind trees so that when the peafowl breed their entire flock will have enough foliage to climb up to in the oppressive heat of the afternoons. Two, make sure the streams don't dry up because of over¬use; and in case the summer is really bad, dig small waterholes all around the village and keep filling them up with water so that the peacocks will never go thirsty. Three, in a farm that can cultivate five kilos of grain, start growing eight kilos. And keep the surplus three kilos aside for the peacocks, come rain or drought.
These three tenets were followed to the 'T' by four generations of farmers. And today, this village has a population of over 2,000 people and over 2,000 peacocks. One peacock for every villager. And there are a few hundred tamarind trees in the village now offering dense canopies for the peacocks to rest in the afternoons.
The village is called 'Morachi Chincholi', which translates as 'Tamarind trees for peacocks'. This name is as old as the hills around, and today nobody remembers what the earlier name of the village was.
We had heard about this green wonderland, and one fine morning we decided to drive down from Mumbai to Morachi Chincholi, off the Pune-Ahmednagar highway. When we reached the village in the afternoon, we expected to see peacocks loitering about every house there, like domesticated ducks. That's when we were told by a local resident Sanjay Navale that these were wild peacocks roaming free in the village and its environs. Since it was noon, he said, they will be resting high on the tamarind trees and will now come down only in the evening. And true to his word, just when the sun lost its bite, peacocks after peacocks descended from the green heavens and walked nonchalantly into the farmlands to graze and nibble at what was set aside for them. We saw them grazing at an arm's length from the farmers working in the field. And it dawned on me that man and animal can peacefully coexist; if only man wants to.
Now an organization called Jai Malhar Krishi Paryatan Kendra has made it easy for nature lovers to partake of this amazing act of conservation. They have built a beautiful complex on 25 acres of land that promotes agro-tourism. Replete with small rustic cottages, the complex gives urban folk a taste of rustic living, rustic games and rustic transport.
That this group, headed by Maharashtra Krishibhooshan Award Winner Advocate Gorde, is serious about responsible tourism is underlined by the fact that the place is strictly vegetarian, and strictly prevents consumption of alcohol; thereby keeping mindless picnickers at bay.
The timing of the appearance of this most beautiful and royal of all Indian birds is a wonder in itself. The sight of them descending in large numbers when the sun is at an inclination, and when the light is diffused, is a photographer's delight. In these magic hours, the sunlight brushes the palette of colours on their long, trailing feathers, adding a fluid shimmer that's truly spectacular.
The diligence with which the villagers guard these natural assets is a lesson in wildlife protection. We had a willing bunch of two girls and a boy who offered to take us into the wilderness. And as I got carried away by the sight of a peacock perched on a tamarind tree and started approaching it, the smaller girl, who was all of eight, admonished me: 'Don't get too close, you will frighten them!' I nodded sheepishly, and chided myself for forgetting that I don't have to go too close to get a good close-up: my tele-lens will bring them close enough.
Poachers who kill peacocks for selling their feathers as Lord Krishna's souvenirs to unsuspecting devotees are nowhere to be found in Morachi Chincholi. The elaborate network of local sleuths keep a watch on every outsider, and any attempt to harm even a feather is thwarted aggressively by every villager.
As I left this man-made heaven, I remembered an incident that had happened in my life a long time ago. Disturbed by the fact that so many caged birds are being sold in Mumbai, my wife and I decided to buy a caged bird and set it free on our son Akash's birthday, every year. When I told this proudly to my friend and well-known naturalist Sunjoy Monga, he quietly but firmly told me a terrifying truth. He said, 'Ganga, just remember, when you buy a caged bird and release it, another one will get caught and get caged to replenish the stock. So in fact you are encouraging poachers by releasing caged birds!'
Similarly, every time someone innocently buys a peacock feather, another peacock is shot and killed for its feathers. Definitely not in Morachi Chincholi, but in another less aware, less militant village in Maharashtra. Or Gujarat. Or Rajasthan. Or Madhya Pradesh. Slowly but surely bringing down the numbers of our gorgeous National Bird.
