Farmer and seed-saver Sunil Bhoye tells Oishika Roy about how seeds can be preserved by storing them in earthen pots and bamboo stems, and passing his knowledge of wild foods on to his daughter through the Wild Food Festival.
On a warm day in Mumbai’s monsoonal September, several people are trying to summon Sunil Bhoye at the same time. In a couple of hours, the Wild Food Festival, 2024 is about to begin, and preparations are in full swing. At the Rizvi College of Hotel Management, the kitchens are brimming with activity. Members of the Kokni, Warli, Mahadeo Koli, Matkari, and Bhil tribes are cooking away along with the students to prepare three different menus featuring more than 50 wild foods, which will feed over 400 attendees.
Amidst this frenzy, Sunil embodies a quiet calm—it is his sixth time organising the festival, and he knows that things eventually fall into place. It helps that his team is acutely familiar with the wild vegetables they are cooking, which includes keni bhaaji (Commelina benghalensis L.), fatangdi bhaaji (Embelia tsjeriam-cottam), the increasingly beloved vaaste (bamboo) bhaaji, and many more.
Sunil Bhoye has been a farmer and seed-saver with OOO Farms for the last eight years. Living in the densely forested Jawhar taluka in Palghar district, he saves a variety of indigenous rice and millets, while continuing to forage for wild greens. On his farm, he grows grains from some of the seeds he saves for his family and him to consume.
He also trains farmers across Maharashtra in matters of seed preservation. In the words of agrobiodiversity expert and researcher Sanjay Patil—who works with multiple distinguished organisations focused on conservation, and has taught Sunil much of what he now knows about seed preservation—Sunil Bhoye is “an innovator”. Today, Sunil ends up sharing with Sanjay a lot of what he learns.
Read an excerpt from our interview with Sunil here:
In preparation for the Wild Food Festival, you—along with the members of your community—have had to spend a lot of time foraging the wild foods and greens featured here, to bring to Mumbai.
Yes, we forage for at least two days, and at night as well, to maintain the freshness of the raan bhaaji (wild vegetables). The festival demands so much wild food that it takes at least two days.
How do you keep it fresh?
For the journey, we put all of the raan bhaaji in plastic packets. We make tiny holes in each of the packets; as time passes, the condensation forming inside the packets escapes through these holes and with it, the heat accumulating inside the packets escapes as well. This keeps the vegetables cool, and prevents wilting.
Back in our village, this isn’t required. Once foraged, we keep the freshly cut vegetables outside, not inside our homes. Throughout the day, steady winds keep blowing through our village. The breeze at night is extremely chilly—like ice—freshening the cut vegetables further. From early evening to late morning it is cold, and that’s enough to keep the vegetables fresh. We only have four to five hours of sunlight everyday, which means the vegetables rarely spoil. On hotter days, we place a wet cloth over the harvested vegetables; that’s all one needs to keep them from spoiling.
What are some wild foods that are in season towards the end of the monsoon?
During Ganesh Chaturthi, new wild vegetables mature. Not many, since the arrival of wild vegetables slows down once monsoons begin to recede. Some of the wild greens that appear during this time are kavali patta (Chlorophytum borivilianum Santapau), kartoli (Momordica dioica), and ambad (Hibiscus cannabinus L.), all of which have almost never been seen in Mumbai and its markets before. They taste a bit different (than the greens one is used to eating). Ambad, for example, is eaten with fish or cooked with potato. And these wild vegetables have unique properties that are beneficial for the body. We say that by eating ambad, the body is able to produce the oil it needs. Just how one changes the oil in a car—that’s what eating ambad does to the body.
Along with harvesting wild vegetables, you also preserve seeds and work on your household farm. How did you find yourself involved in the area of cultivation?
I have been working with Sanjay Patil, who is an expert in agrobiodiversity and conservation of diverse genetic food material [and is associated with BAIF Development Research Foundation], over the last 20 years. He has been researching on and actively participating in matters of preserving seeds, building and maintaining seed banks, and prioritising saving indigenous varieties of seeds in four states in India [Maharashtra, Gujarat, Odisha, Uttarakhand]. From him, I learnt how to store seeds, what kind of materials different types of seeds need to be stored in, and how to grow those seeds again to ensure optimum preservation.
All of us indigenous farmers have everything we need to farm ably. For me, what was missing was the knowledge of preserving the seeds well. That knowledge was somehow lost over time. Working with Sanjay Patil and Shailesh [from OOO Farms], I have learned many techniques, including how certain seeds need to be stored inside mud pots, which offer an environment similar to soil, and are suitable for seeds to safely remain dormant. Now, I think I can say that I have more technical know-how than he does (laughs).
What are some of the seeds you preserve and some of the foods you grow on your farm?
We grow nachni (finger millet), varai (little millet), around 50 varieties of rice—all of which are Indian, desi varieties, no hybrid varieties at all. By cultivating these grains and interacting with them, I also save them and their seeds so they can be used again the next year and the year after too.
We have to store the seeds well—in earthen pots or sometimes in bamboo stems. We keep them inside our homes itself, to protect them from insects or pests. Every two months, we check whether the seeds are keeping well. Nothing is to be bought from the shops; we must keep everything at home, and do everything at home.
We grow nachni (finger millet), varai (little millet), around 50 varieties of rice—all of which are Indian, desi varieties, no hybrid varieties at all.
Have you ever had to preserve wild food seeds, by growing them on your farm?
We don’t grow any wild vegetables on the farm. If we grow them among the usually cultivated foods—such as grains—these cultivated foods are unable to grow properly since they are then competing for resources. In a way, wild foods and greens could be grouped together as “grass”, so when they grow, the grains are affected, and vice versa. On my farm, we remove the wild vegetables sprouting, and maintain the grains instead.
We have never saved or stored wild vegetables’ seeds, since they disperse on their own, “ripen” on their own, and with the rain, “come out” on their own too. So there is no system as such for saving wild vegetables’ seeds.
Recently, people from places such as Mumbai have asked for wild vegetables’ seeds. We then have to go into the jungle, remove the seeds from the earth, and store them. Even then, we don’t procure and store a lot of seeds—just about a handful. And that’s sufficient.
How is the knowledge of wild foods passed on?
For as long as our generation is alive, we will save seeds. When all of us are gone, who knows what our children will do, whether they will save seeds or not. To remember these important methods of saving seeds, we store them carefully, we remind our children that you need to eat these wild vegetables, you need to remember how to pick them. This time, for the Wild Food Festival, I’ve brought my daughter along with me so that she learns how to cook these wild greens, how to preserve them, and interact with them. And she’s in the kitchen right now, learning.
For as long as our generation is alive, we will save seeds.
Traditionally, the knowledge of wild foods has been passed on from one generation to the next through songs, folk tales, and stories. But I don’t remember any of these. In fact, I don’t think most people in my generation will be able to tell you these stories. Many wouldn’t have even heard of them.
Wild foods, by themselves, will not deplete or disappear. But if we forget how to traverse the jungle terrain, how to properly harvest wild foods, and which ones to harvest when, the wild foods will be at risk. [In the absence of our stories], we have new ways of passing on this knowledge. Like now—I’ve brought my daughter to Mumbai, to this festival, to teach her. She will learn by observing. This time, we’re making many new dishes with foods we are familiar with, such as bhaaji out of ambadi ke patte (leaves of Hibiscus cannabinus L.), or cake out of mahua (Madhuca longifolia). This knowledge is now being passed on through new forms and new dishes, and that’s how it will continue.
Would you say eating habits in your village have changed quite a bit as well?
During my childhood, we barely had access to rice and wheat; almost no access at all. So, we would eat raan bhaaji as complete meals: khurasani leaves (Guizotia abyssinica (L.f.) Cass.), urad leaves (Vigna radiata (L.) R.Wilczek), and so on. We would bring these home, and boil them in a large vessel without any strong spices—just a bit of salt. If someone was hungry at any time of the day, they would simply eat some of the prepared vegetables, which made them feel satiated. Some of these vegetables also kept blood sugar levels and diabetes in control (unlike most of the major grains eaten today). Earlier, following such a diet, people were able to survive for 80-90 years. Now, it’s hard for us to survive for 50-60 years.
Today, diets in our villages too are quite different. We eat wild vegetables two or three times a month. We pick wild foods with some of the children from the community. They observe the process, learn how to prepare the wild foods, and eat them. We have nachni roti with vegetables such as brinjal and tomatoes more often. But access to these vegetables is uncertain.
Are there any principles or rituals that are still followed today?
Safed musli (Chlorophytum borivilianum) is now cultivated across India, but is indigenous to tribal hilly areas [particularly in the Western Ghats, and the foothills of central and north India], and grows wild. It is the first wild vegetable we will eat in the monsoon season. It is only after it matures, and we harvest and eat safed musli, that we will touch, let alone harvest and eat, any other wild vegetable.
Upon harvesting safed musli, the entire village celebrates a festival where certain ceremonies are carried out, and every household prepares this vegetable. The following day, the process of harvesting other vegetables and eating them begins.
There is a logic to this: safed musli is known to safeguard one’s immunity. So, it becomes important to begin a season of eating with it, to ensure optimum health throughout the season.
The importance and value of wild foods in our diets is slowly gaining recognition. In cities like Mumbai, which previously may not have known about or consumed wild foods, there is an increasing desire and demand for wild foods. Is there a risk to this growing demand?
No, there isn’t any risk as such. If somebody wants more wild vegetables, they can be foraged. It’s not that if people in cities eat more wild vegetables, all of us living in the hilly regions won’t be able to eat any—there’s no such thing. There’s enough wild vegetables. However, if there is less demand, wild foods will simply go uneaten. A lack of demand hurts the wild food ecosystem.
What is important is that we need people to be able to harvest wild vegetables as and when they mature. The jungle is very dense and incredibly scary to manoeuvre. If we go in large groups, we can forage together, and have a better system against (potential) danger. But if we venture by ourselves or in pairs, one is restricted to the peripheries of the jungle. The act of foraging is meant to be a collective process.
It’s not that if people in cities eat more wild vegetables, all of us living in the hilly regions won’t be able to eat any—there’s no such thing. There’s enough wild vegetables.
If the demand for wild foods is high, our effort towards harvesting them would need to be stronger. Many villages then have to come together. I have a finite amount of knowledge. Using this knowledge—and keeping in mind the principles of picking wild vegetables—I can form larger groups, with people from other villages, and together, we can harvest wild foods to send to Mumbai.
According to me, this is a good thing. We don’t have a lot of work or too many employment opportunities, so this can be a form of employment for us. In Mumbai, people have so much money. Through this, we will be able to earn a little bit. By forming a larger collective of people who can harvest wild foods, everybody can earn a little bit.
This year, we have invited two women from neighbouring hamlets in our village to cook for the festival with us. They get to see Mumbai, yes, but they are also able to earn some money—the same amount that all the other women [who have worked at the festival’s past editions] are earning, and that’s important.
We’ve spoken so much about wild foods, but we haven’t yet learned what you like to eat! Are there any dishes that you really enjoy eating during the monsoon?
Yes, I do have my favourite monsoon dishes! I love to eat nachni roti, and with rice, I like to eat keni bhaaji, which is often used to make tempering for dal. I also really enjoy waghati bhaaji (Capparis zeylanica L.). For the menu at the Wild Food Festival this time, we’ve made keni bhaaji and mahua gulab jamun. Earlier, mahua would only be used to make alcohol. But now, see. We’re using it so creatively to make food as well.
Purchase your copy of the limited-edition Wild Food Zine here.
Thank you to Shikha Kansagara and Shailesh Awate of OOO Farms for their time and knowledge, without which this interview would not have been possible.
Oishika Roy is an assistant editor at The Locavore. In her free time, she likes to update her reading challenge on Goodreads and listen to show tunes.
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