AT dawn, a curtain of cool, blue mist hangs gently over Bashir Mohammed’s expansive fields. In the middle of his 60 bigha land in the heart of Madevi village, three hours from Chandigarh, quilted patches of cauliflower and brinjal grow side by side, lined by rows of guava trees in the distance. In a Pathani suit, his hair slicked back, 27-year-old Bashir is among the largest vegetable farmers in the erstwhile princely state of Malerkotla, one of the few towns that went unscathed by Partition. Malerkotla is actually an island of vegetables in a vast carpet of wheat and rice fields. In the mid ’60s, while the rest of the state turned to wheat and, later, paddy, this village stuck to its ancient tradition—growing organic vegetables. According to local lore, in the 18th century, a few soldiers from the Afghan invader Ahmad Shah Abdali’s army stayed back in the area, gave up arms and ploughed the land for a living. ‘‘As far as I can remember, our family has always grown vegetables,’’ says Bashir, as he plucks brinjals with rapid efficiency and stuffs them into a sack. By 8.30 am, Bashir and his team of 10 have plucked a quintal of taut brinjals. It’s nearing 9 am when Bashir’s father, Mohammed Babu, a swarthy old man with a warm smile, and his mother, Halima Bibi, arrive on a red motorbike. “We’re observing roza,’’ says Halima, as an excuse for being late, before joining Bashir in the work. The vegetables are dunked into a cement tub to wash away the grainy sand before being fished out and readied for the auction ground at the local mandi 5 km away.
