Idukki native Manu Joseph never expected his flight from Bahrain to Kerala to be the last one he would take for a while. He says he still can’t believe the way the pandemic has changed his life and pushed him towards a new beginning. Today, he makes a living by selling petrol engines, which help farmers carry heavy loads while working on fields.

“I worked as a technician in Bahrain’s Telecommunication Department for around 15 years. Every year, I’d come home during my annual leave. But this time turned out to be a permanent goodbye to Bahrain,” Manu tells The Better India.

Manu, who also has a diploma in automobile engineering, says that he decided to put his engineering skills to use during the lockdown. These, in turn, helped out farmers as well.

“During the lockdown, I started noticing farmers who were struggling in the cardamom fields. Many of my family members and villagers cultivate cardamom, as our district’s climate is suitable for it. From tilling the soil to carrying the crop from the fields to the roadside, the entire process is difficult for a farmer to carry out alone. For this, I decided to make a machine that can reduce the efforts they have to take,” he says.

Manu started by sketching a rough design of the machine, and listed what material would be needed to make it. This included steel, an engine, and other smaller tools.

“Even though I had a basic idea of how I would make the machine, I didn’t have money to buy the material. My family helped me out with the finances, and I opened a workshop in May,” he says. He named the workshop Edwin Agrocart.

The making of

“Since I was child, I have been the sort of person who never loses faith. While working on the machine, there were many times I had to start from scratch, due to engine-related issues. I kept pushing myself, and it took over seven months for the work to be completed. All my family members, including my three kids, helped me make the petrol engine. I still remember my kids coming up to me with tiny screws and tools, eager to know if they could help me,” he recalls.

The first Edwin Agrocart petrol engine was given to farmers for a test run. Manu says they loved the idea, and told him it helped reduce the time it took to carry the load, like manure. He also gave the machine to his family so they could review it.

“Testing the machine was easy, as most of my friends and relatives are cardamom cultivators. I modified the machine based on their suggestions — they asked for a better tyre, as most of the land was not smooth. For this, I imported tyres from Gujarat. The rest of the material was taken from local markets across various districts in Kerala,” he says.

Manu says the machine helps farmers till the soil, carry the load, and apply fertilizers and pesticides on the crops. If one litre of petrol is filled in the tank, it works for more than two hours.

He adds, “The machine can also be used for construction, as it can carry heavy loads and be taken on any kind of road.”

Quality first

All the material used to make the machine has the ISI mark. “Even the nuts and bolts I used are of good quality. I was very particular about this, because I wanted my customers to have machines of the best quality. I provide a one-year warranty for my product. Even after a year, the machine can run smoothly. I only expect engine-related issues to come up, but that is easily fixable if one just replaces the engine,” Manu says. One machine costs Rs 75,000.

Many farmers across Kerala have visited Manu’s workshop to buy the machine. “Till date, I have received over 20 orders, and eight farmers from my village itself have also purchased it. I also let them take it for test runs,” he says.

When asked if Manu wishes to fly back to Bahrain again, he says, “My company will be happy to see me there, but I wish to spend the future with my family. So no, I won’t be travelling there again. I hope my machine will be able to support my family financially.”

Manu says he is ready to take orders across India. To place an order, or for more information, one can contact him on 75580 05267.

(Edited by Divya Sethu)

Environmentalists have long been protesting against the leather industry that is not only cruel towards animals but also leaves a huge ecological impact. Its tanning processes emit thick black smoke into the atmosphere and toxic wastewater is released into freshwater bodies.

But a Kerala startup has come up with a vegan, eco-friendly alternative that looks and feels like leather but is made using coconut water. Malai Biomaterials was co-founded by Susmith C Suseelan and Slovakia’s Zuzana Gombosava in 2018.

“I was motivated by the idea to develop a material that is circular in nature, doesn’t harm the environment, and can be used in the realm of fashion and product design,” says Zuzana, adding that it takes only 150 days for the material to decompose.

How does it work?

There are primarily two processes involved. First is the fermentation where coconut water is fed to a particular type of bacteria. Once this ferments, the sugar extract is converted into cellulose and can be used to make sheets or any three-dimensional shape.

This PETA-approved organisation is currently working alongside the Indian Institute of Technology (IIT)-Hyderabad to improve their material and make it affordable as well.

Watch the story of Malai here:

(Edited by Divya Sethu)

Tender coconut not only quenches your thirst but also has numerous health benefits, including an increase in blood circulation and prevention of kidney stones, among others. Tracing this delicious fruit back to its origin in the South, however, some coconuts are found to lose their taste while others come with less water. But two friends from Kozhikode, Kerala, have found a solution to these problems by tending to tender coconuts at its source.

It all started last year when Abdul Shameer bought a tender coconut from a shop for his relative who was hospitalised at the time. He found that due to being overexposed to the sun, the coconut had lost its taste and most of its water. An upset Shameer then complained to the shop owner. “The owner told me it is difficult to identify which fruit is fresh, or which will have more water, as he didn’t know when it may have been harvested. Besides, coconuts available at stores here are mostly imported from Tamil Nadu,” he tells The Better India.

This incident soon sparked an idea which Shameer discussed with his friend, Sadakkathulla. Together, they started Royal Karikku, which translates to royal ‘tender coconut’ in Malayalam, to source coconuts from across Kerala to sell it to the shops themselves.

The coconut experiment

The shelf life of a tender coconut is approximately 30 days, after storing it in a cool and dry place. But, if they are stored in direct sunlight, it must be consumed within one week. “Initially, when we collected the tender coconuts from the farmers, we made sure it reached the market the same day itself so that the customers got fresher produce. We realised that if we took more time to distribute the coconuts, then they lost their natural, fresh flavour,” Shameer says.

As the first step, the duo sourced tender coconuts from farmers across different villages and districts of Kerala and sold them to different shops. With their venture, they also decided to aid the plight of coconut farmers who often find it hard to sell their produce in shops due to shipping constraints.

Shameer says, “Due to shipping difficulties, most of the farmers sell their produce to different agents who then distribute the fruit to the shops. From this, the agents stand to make a profit by selling it for Rs 24 in shops while the farmers earn just Rs 16. Our Royal Karikku ensures that the coconut farmers are the ones who reap the benefits of their produce and not the agents.”

To better understand the plight of these coconut farmers, we spoke to Ahammed Kutty, a farmer in Kozhikode, who says, “I have been selling tender coconuts for almost a decade now. As I didn’t have the transportation facilities or the good health to travel to different shops, I used to rely on agents to distribute the coconuts. I got Rs 15 per coconut from the agent. It was a smaller amount than what I would receive from a paying customer but I had no other choice.”

But after tying-up with Royal Karikku, the farmer says that things have changed.
“Shameer and Sadakkathulla contacted me for tender coconuts some months ago. They were different from the agents I have met. Usually, agents come to collect the fruit, pay the money and leave within five minutes. But the Royal Karikku owners considered me like family. They made me understand about their venture and how it is going to help farmers like me in the state,” says Ahammed, adding, “They give me Rs 22 for each coconut.”

Currently, the Royal Karikku is collecting coconuts from over 20 farmers in Kerala and are looking to get connected with a few more in the state.

But, while the duo admits their initial plan of sourcing coconuts from the farmers to sell didn’t take off as expected, as shopkeepers were forced to spend more money to get rid of the husk on them, the friends soon began working on another idea to state the date of expiry on their coconuts.

As fresh as it gets

“If a customer is consuming the fruit after its expiry, it won’t taste good or have sufficient water in it. To solve this problem, we decided to add a ‘date of collection’ and ‘expiry’ tag on the tender coconuts so that customers can take an informed decision. The fruit would then have to be stored in the freezer,” Shameer says, adding that the shopkeepers initially found it a task to store these large fruits.

With more research, the duo introduced the new and improved Royal Karikku. This time, they sold a more refined set of tender coconuts which had their husk peeled off, making them smaller in size which also made them easier to open and store. They also contained the price tag, date of collection of the fruit and the expiry date.

“The price of the drink depends on the size of the coconut, which varies between Rs 49 and Rs 59,” says Shameer, adding, “We have figured out a way to make our Royal Karikku coconuts stay fresh for a few more days than regular tender coconut. After plucking the fruit, we store it in our shop at room temperature for almost three days. We then distribute it to different stores. These coconuts can stay in the refrigerator for up to 14 days without impacting its taste, whereas ordinary ones last only for less than a week.”

Due to the restrictions posed by the COVID-19 pandemic and the lockdown, Shameer and Sadakkathulla couldn’t find enough sales. However, the duo kicked off their venture from 1 January 2021 and have already sold 1,900 coconuts in Kerala. They tell me that they aim to cater to anyone in India who wants fresh tender coconuts.

“We have also received orders from Kuwait and Qatar to deliver 2,000 tender coconuts weekly to both places,” Sadakkathulla says, adding that a trial pack of the Royal Karikku coconuts was shipped to these places in the first week of January.

To order from Royal Karikku you can contact them on 90486 32523.

(Edited by Yoshita Rao)

In 2011, Elavarasi Jayakanth, a native of Tamil Nadu’s Usilampatti, saw her life completely change. She became the victim of a robbery at her own supermarket, which resulted in her losing all her money. The trauma from the experience left her shell-shocked, and she remained admitted in the hospital for months, unable to overcome the dejection at having lost her dream venture.

Elavarasi’s family had moved to Thrissur district in Kerala, more than 45 years ago. She grew up watching her parents and grandparents make sweets and snacks to earn their livelihood, and from a young age, helped them sell these products across different homes in her village.

After she was married, she continued down the same path as her family, and began making sweets and snacks at home, which she would then distribute to nearby stores and other homes. She says the aroma and quality of her products impressed the customers, and she saw a gradual increase in orders.

“I had always wanted to be a businesswoman,” she tells The Better India, and adds, “I discussed the idea of opening a supermarket here in Thrissur with my husband and children, wherein different snacks and chips would be sold. We combined our savings, and took a loan of Rs 50 lakh from banks and neighbouring loan sharks to open the mart in 2010.”

The 40-year-old says the life she was living was beyond what she had envisioned in her dreams. “Day by day, I saw our sales and the number of happy customers increase. I had also provided employment to around 50 people. According to customer requirements, I introduced a variety of products,” she recalls. These included halwa, chips, and cakes made of fruits and vegetables including mangoes, oranges, gooseberries, chinese potatoes, averrhoa bilimbi, jackfruits, and cucumbers.

But her smooth-sailing life was stalled abruptly after her robbery. “When my dream venture collapsed, I was both mentally and physically disturbed (she suffers from low blood pressure-related problems). But even so, I was not ready to give up. My faith in myself helped me restart my own business, and today, I own four stores which make as many as 60 products, including sweets, snacks, cakes, and pickles,” she says.

Picking herself back up

“The shock and trauma of the robbery resulted in me being in the hospital for months, and no medicines were effective. Over time, I came to the slow realisation that I couldn’t afford to carry on living with fear. This was not just for the sake of my own family, but also for those who were dependent on me and my venture. I’d borrowed money from people, who would also be at a loss if I did nothing to pull myself out of this situation,” she says.

Elavarasi says bank authorities would hound her every day, demanding that she repay the loan. Neighbouring loan sharks would continually harass her and her family as well. Here, she decided to begin a new venture, with the hope that if she showed her lenders that she was working towards getting the money she owed, they would be willing to wait for it.

In 2012, she opened a hot chips stall, Aswathi Hot Chips, near Thrissur railway station. “My family’s talents for delicious snacks had passed on to me, so I decided to give my food venture another try. It was difficult to invest money in a new business, so I began my new venture with less than Rs 100,” she says.

On why she chose the railway station as her location, she says, “I felt that train travellers also need pocket-friendly and quick snacks to keep them company on their journeys.”

Within days, her hot chips, and eventually, vadas, became the hot new trend among train travellers. Over time, people from different parts of the state began visiting the stall just to try the snacks Elavarasi was making, and form long queues in the mornings and evenings.

As Elavarasi’s income increased, she slowly began repaying her debts and loans. With the profit she made at the stall, she eventually opened four more stores across Thrissur the same year. These shops now sell a variety of snacks, which includes chips, cakes, pickles, and other such items.

On how her products are different from the others, she says, “I do not add any preservatives or colours to my products, so they’re safe for all ages to consume. Besides, the aroma, quality, and taste bring the customers to my place.”

‘Best entrepreneur’

“I have learned several lessons from my setbacks. One should understand that whoever is trying to bring you down, is already below you. Who you are, and how you live your life, must be decided by only you, and not anyone else. I wanted to grow, so I motivated myself, and worked hard. Today, I earn more than Rs 5 lakh per month from selling my products,” she says. Elavarasi won the International Peace Council UAE Award in 2019 for being the ‘Best Entrepreneur’.

She adds that when she was going through a rough time, no one came forward to guide her. However, today she is helping other entrepreneurs who have lost their businesses or are facing career setbacks, by providing them with advice and motivation to lead a better life. “In a few instances, people have come to me and said they read my story and feel motivated to restart their own businesses, and I feel proud that I was able to make a difference in someone else’s life,” she says.

To order Elavarasi’s snacks, you can contact her on 98955 38168.

(Edited by Divya Sethu)

Sreehari Rajesh, 15, a resident of Cochin has a rather unique distinction – he has directed and produced over five small feature films and is currently busy wrapping up the shoot for his first full length feature film. Working on issues related to the environment and society, Sreehari is a passionate filmmaker who over the last few years has continued to improve his skill.

His interest in filmmaking dates back to when he was 9 and first started experimenting with a camera.

He says, “Those were not really worthy of being spoken about. I was just a kid fooling around with a camera I found. It was around the time I turned 13 that I took the craft seriously and made my first short film, Puga, which had a run time of 33 minutes.” The theme for his first short film, he adds, was drug and substance abuse in youngsters.

Sreehari’s father, Rajesh Ramakrishnan, who is with the Kerala police department has been privy to many cases of drug and substance abuse, and Sreehari says, “I have seen how this has wrecked the lives of so many youngsters. I see him counsel them and he often speaks about the ill effects that it has. This was the motivation behind wanting to pick drug abuse as the theme for my first short film.”

Sreehari has an interesting way of scripting his films, he says, “I do not have a hardbound script in place, what I work on is the broad theme and even cast my own friends. In my first short film, I had more than 20 cast members.” When asked how he managed to get funded for the film, he says, “My first film was a zero-budget movie, wherein the places I shot and all those who were part of the film did it for free, and even the travel was kept to a bare minimum.”

Drawing inspiration from the greats

Monochromatic, poignant, short films, which often last no more than 4 minutes, is this teenager’s speciality, who believes in focusing on hard hitting topics like depression and even the pandemic. “You will be amazed at how much inspiration one can draw from everyday life,” he says. For example, the two-minute film titled Charles, was about a man with the same name who has been feeding stray dogs for almost two decades in Fort Cochin. “I felt that it was a story that needed to be told,” says Sreehari.

The camera Sreehari uses, which is a Cannon 1500, was a gift his parents bought him on his 13th birthday, and he says that it has served him very well.

His second film was a documentary on climate change and thereafter Sreehari went on to film another four short films.

Currently, he is busy with the final filming of his full-length feature film, and speaking about it, he says, “Sthaayi, which means ‘that which cannot be changed’, will have a run time of 60 minutes. Based on caste and religious politics, this film has a cast of 15 members and has a budget of less than Rs 25,000.”

He is now busy looking up various film festivals where he says he wants to send Sthaayi. A big fan of directors like Chistropher Nolan and Lijo Jose Pellissery, Sreehari says that one of the movies that impacted him and pushed him to experiment with film making was Nolan’s Following, which was released in 1998. “What inspires me is not just the movies that these stalwarts have made but even their life stories. At 30, Nolan made Following with a rather small budget and I drew inspiration from that,” he says.

If you would like to view some of Sreehari’s work, you can check his YouTube page here.

(Edited by Yoshita Rao)

When it comes to going the extra mile for their child’s health, one couple from Kerala has it easy — they just have to make a trip to their terrace. Close to their son’s birth, in 2014, Remya and Shijith, based in Kannur district, decided to cultivate crops on their 2,000 square foot terrace to push for a healthier lifestyle for the entire family.

“After six years of marriage, we had our first child,” Remya tells The Better India, and adds, “We wanted to be more conscious about our child’s health. For this, my husband and I decided to grow vegetables and fruits on our terrace. We consume pesticide-free products, and lead a healthy lifestyle.”

The two started by making a list of vegetables that can be cultivated on a terrace easily, as Remya was pregnant at the time. This list included common vegetables such as chilli, pepper, tomato, onion, beetroot and spinach. Shijith, who owns a sawmill in Panoor city, initially invested around Rs 500 to collect seeds, pots and manure.

They relied on good soil and patience to grow plants at home, Shijith says, and used organic manure such as cow dung and bone meal powder, as well as groundnut cake, to get the best results.

A growing garden

“During her pregnancy, Remya often craved certain vegetables, such as capsicum, cauliflower, radish, sapodilla and passion fruit,” Shijith recalls, and says that’s how they began growing these vegetables in their home and on the terrace.

In 2015, Remya gave birth to a baby boy. Initially, the couple found it difficult to find time for gardening while taking care of the baby. While Remya took on the latter, Shijith began spending more time cultivating crops, and his wife joined him a few months later.

As their son, Daivik, began consuming solid food, the couple’s garden diversified. Among the child’s favourite were tomatoes and carrots, which the two ensured were plentily available in their repository.

“It’s not easy to always have access to farm-fresh vegetables that you can trust have not been sprayed with harmful pesticides. So, we collected plant seed and manure from trustworthy organisations, and the oldest generation of farmers near our home,” Remya says.

A host of products

As a homemaker, Remya had enough time to spend with and nurture her plants. However, once the number of crops started increasing, she ran out of space on the terrace as well as her home. “Some of my customers, including friends and relatives, suggested I open a nursery at home, which would allow me to have enough space for my plants. So in 2019, we opened the nursery in our home,” the 37-year-old says.

The nursery sells organic manure, seeds, saplings, fruits and vegetables. It also sells cow dung powder, bone meal powder, organic compost and groundnut cake. The seeds are hybrid seeds, produced by cross-pollinating plants.

Apart from seeds, Remya and Shijith also sell saplings of vegetables and fruits, including pepper, coconut, mango, passion fruit, and the garden has a collection of ornamental flowers. The couple earns Rs 25,000 every month from the nursery, and has customers coming in from districts across Kerala.

The entrepreneur says, “There’s a misconception that a homemaker should only remain in the kitchen. But they can earn for themselves even while staying at home. With confidence, any woman can try her hands at running a business, and I believe dedication will help her succeed as a successful entrepreneur.”

(Edited by Divya Sethu)

Owning a brick and mortar house was always a distant dream for 63-year-old Ashokan Padapelly. However, depending on the mercy of the ocean for a better catch and struggling to make ends meet did not provide an opportunity for this Thrissur-based fisherman and painter to own his own home.

On a good day, Ashokan earned anywhere between Rs 2,000 and Rs 4,000. But on many occasions, he returned empty-handed from the coasts of Kerala. In 2016, on one of his strolls of the neighbourhood, he was captivated by the view of a bright red coloured brick house he spotted.

“It was a newly constructed house in the neighbourhood, which was similar to the type of structure I had in mind for my own home,” the Edamuttam village native says and adds that was what pushed him to building his own permanent residence. “Without further delays, I decided to go try all the means I could to own the house of my dreams,” he says.

And within four years, the fisherman built a house with a Rs 10 lakh-budget, while also incorporating eco-friendly elements in its construction. He tells The Better India how he did it.

The house that the fisherman built

Ashokan started making inquiries for experts to help him build an affordable house. Simultaneously, he also began gathering funds for its construction. In his quest to build a home, he learned about Costford (Centre of Science and Technology For Rural Development) architects, a non-profit organisation, who helped build cost-effective residences for people from lower economic strata of society. “They presented me with an estimate of Rs 10 lakhs to build a 2BHK (Bedroom, Hall, Kitchen) house spread across 850 sq ft,” he says.

Finalising a plan and the cost estimates for construction, Ashokan approached the fisheries department, who sanctioned a loan of Rs 2 lakh. He was able to scrounge up another couple of lakhs from his niece and other relatives, friends and his life’s savings.

Santhilal, an architect with Costford, says that Ashokan could not afford to build his own home. Speaking of the delays in construction due to shortage of funds, he says, “It took four years to build his house that could have been constructed within a year.”

The house, Ahokan says, was constructed using the techniques of the famous British-Indian architect, William Lorry Baker, a proponent of cost-saving, energy-efficient designs. The techniques involved carving a cavity within the bricks between alternate layers in the walls of the house.

Santhilal explains, “Semi-mechanised bricks were used for the entire construction of the house. The walls have a hollow space between alternate layers, which is known as the rat trap method. They’re filled with air and act as an insulator against hot and cold weather conditions. As a result, the house remains 6 to 8 degrees Celsius cooler than the temperatures outside in the summers, while in the winters, the warm temperature inside the house is retained due to the insulation provided by this method.”

The architect adds that with the bricks arranged in this fashion it reduces the requirement for the same by 25 per cent. “The roof of the house also has weatherproof features. Instead of creating an entire roof with dead concrete, 2.5 inches of concrete slab was poured over Mangalore tiles that were 1.5 inches thick. The tiles made from mud act as an insulating agent, keeping the house comparatively cooler during peak summers,” Santhilal tells The Better India.

He adds that with these weather-proof and insulation tactics, Ashokan’s house will not require an air-conditioner during summers. “Just a fan will suffice, if needed,” he says.

To reduce costs further, no paint was applied to the walls. “The bricks are allowed to breathe freely, without any layer of paint. The floor is made by leveling and plastering concrete to smoothen it. Such arrangements drastically reduced the construction cost of the house,” Santhilal says.

Using these techniques, Ashokan could build a house complete with two bedrooms, a living room, a library space, a dining space and kitchen all within his budget of Rs 10 lakh. “The house is still undergoing some finishing touches on the roof and its exteriors. Ashokan should be able to move inside his house within the next few weeks,” Santhilal says.

Ashokan says that he is overwhelmed to finally have a strong roof over his head. “I am happy that I could build the house of my dreams. I am eagerly waiting to start living in it, and feel safe and secure with my sense of ownership,” he proudly adds.

(Edited by Yoshita Rao)

Even at the age of 93, Chidambaram Nair is firmly planted on his feet. The nonagenarian has been practicing agriculture since his childhood, and credits his health and fitness to it.

“Agriculture is the foundation of everything in this world,” he tells The Better India, adding, “The day we forget this fact, our failures begin.” Nair, a native of Kerala’s Kozhikode, says the scent of the soil is his motivation.

Nair’s love for the profession stems from the small vegetable garden he had at home as a child. His gardening hobby eventually transformed into full-fledged cultivation of a barren land that his parents owned. Then there was no looking back.

“I worked as a primary school teacher in a school nearby for almost 27 years. During that time, I would cultivate my land before heading to school, till about 9 in the morning. After school, children would rush to get home, and I would rush to get back to my farm,” he recalls.

Nair has planted over 350 coconut trees on his 7-acre land. He cultivates vegetables and fruits including banana, tomato, tapioca, elephant yam, pepper and paddy. He keeps some produce for his home, and sells the rest in the market nearby. He follows organic farming, which he says is more difficult than the regular, because one has to prepare the soil and make natural fertilisers and pesticides.

Regardless, Nair says the practice ensures his health remains at its prime. “The use of organic waste keeps the soil alive and in good health. It reduces pollution, helps conserve water, prevents soil erosion, and increases fertility. I don’t use any synthetic pesticides, and use cow dung powder, organic compost, and groundnut cakes as manure,” he says.

A simple lifestyle

On the routine he follows every day, Nair says, “I go to sleep by 8.30 pm and wake up by 6 in the morning. After bathing, I head to my farm, and only return home to eat and sleep. I dedicate the rest of my time to agriculture.”

Nair follows a strictly vegetarian diet, which he says is the reason for his energy, even at this age. He refrains from eating oily and junk food. He helps his wife prepare traditional dishes in the kitchen.

Nair’s son, Radhakrishnan, says, “My personal favourites are rice pudding and avial (a thick mixture of over 10 vegetables). He makes sure he doesn’t add too much sugar to the pudding. When we eat the avial, he makes sure we eat all the vegetables in it. We don’t mind, because it tastes delicious.”

He adds, “I’ve been seeing my father on the field ever since I was little. Our family doesn’t purchase too many items from the market, maybe except salt. We haven’t used oil in our cooking in many years. New products in the market were never exciting to us, because whatever produce our father brought from his farm was enough. Even when it comes to clothes, my father usually makes them at home using the spinning wheel we have here.”

‘My first love’

While most of his family remains busy with their professional lives, they help him out on the farm whenever they get the time. Nair and his wife, Karthyayani, have four children — K Mohandas, K Radhakrishnan, Komalavally and Usha. Mohandas is a retired agricultural officer and Radhakrishnan is a retired teacher. Both daughters are homemakers.

As Nair does not have any house help to aid him in the farming, his children frequently ask him not to go to the land without them, owing to his age. They also often chide him for not eating on time, because he spends so much time on his farm But he remains adamant.

“My children often ask me to not go alone, as they worry I may fall sick if I work too much at this age. But I always say that agriculture is an alternative exercise that has kept me healthy and thriving so far, and I haven’t had to be hospitalised,” he says. He has no health issues apart from a minor hearing problem.

Calling it his first love, Nair says he is willing to dedicate the rest of his days to farming and cultivation.

(Edited by Divya Sethu)

The caste system in Kerala differed from that in the rest of India. The latter was the four-fold division of society — Brahmins, Kshatriyas, Vaishyas and Shudras. But in Kerala, which, prior to independence, comprised Malabar district, Travancore and Cochin, the Namboodiri Brahmins formed the priestly class, and anyone else was classified as a Shudra, who existed outside the caste system entirely.

Until the Kerala Land Reforms in 1957, Namboodiri (or ‘Nambudiri’ and ‘Namboothiri’) Brahmins, who were traditional feudal landlords, owned a large portion of land in the Malabar region. They dominated all matters of Kerala — religion, politics, society, economics and culture. They were also advisors to the king of Kochi, and held much power and influence over him.

While the Namboodiri women struggled to find any sense of justice or equality, the men enjoyed abundant financial security because of the amount of land they owned. The women were branded as antharjanams, which meant ‘indoor persons’. It made their social position abundantly clear. With the advent of colonialism, many areas of the country saw several toxic religious practices dissipate, but Namboodiri women continued to remain under a veil, and were denied rights to own property, or even pursue education.

‘Destined to bring calamity’

To keep the property within the family, only the eldest brother in a home could marry an antharjanam. The younger men in the family were to dedicate their lives to worship and scriptural studies. At the same time, it was acceptable for the oldest brother to have as many wives as he desired. This courtesy was not extended to women, of course, who were to remain monogamous and inside their homes most times, and only step out when they were accompanied by a servant or their husbands. As the age of consent was 10 years around the time, little girls would be widowed early when their much older husbands would die, and resign their fates to remaining an antharjanam for the rest of their lives.

Among these women was Kuriyedathu Thathri, also referred to as Dhathri or Savitri in varying accounts. Thathri was born in Ezhumangadu village into the Kalpakasseri Illam, a prominent Namboodiri clan. It is said that an astrologer told her father that her birth was “destined to bring calamity and destroy the family’s honour”. Thathri did just that, but in a way that was monumental in the liberation of many Malayali women.

Despite being barred from pursuing education, Thathri showed keen interest in literature and performing arts. She was extremely intelligent, and often, tactical and mischievous.

At the age of 11, she was married to 60-year-old Chemmanthatta Kuriyedathu Raman Namboothiri. Raman had multiple wives, and regularly hired prostitutes. While the accounts of the exact reason Raman and Thathri split differ, the most popular ones say that he abandoned her after she protested against him bringing other women into their home. When Raman left, Thathri took up sex work.

It is said that Thathri was extremely beautiful, and that many men flocked to her. These men came from across different castes and some were extremely powerful and influential. They didn’t know she was an antharjanam for a number of reasons. She arranged these visits through her thozhi (servant or companion), who would communicate with the men and set up the visits on her behalf. Namboodiri women were not allowed to be seen by any man other than the father before marriage, and husband after marriage, so hiding her identity was not difficult for Thathri.

Things changed with the visit of a particular old man. Satisfied with their union, the man asked Thathri, whose face had been hidden behind a veil the entire time, to let him have her permanently. He lifted her veil, and her identity was revealed. The man, who was none other than Raman himself, was enraged that his young wife had chosen a career like this for herself.

Left to be tortured by rats and snakes

A woman’s honour has been tied to her sexuality since time immemorial, and Thathri’s case was no different. On 13 July 1905, she was put to trial for her infidelity and promiscuity. A part of the Namboodiri tradition was the ritual of Smarthavicharam, which means ‘inquiry into conduct’.

This practice existed specifically to put Namboodiri women and their fellow adulterers on trial if they were accused of illegitimate sexual relations. If found guilty, the woman was excommunicated and branded as sadhanam, which literally meant ‘inanimate object’. Her family would conduct irrike pindam, which are the last rites of a living person. The general practice at the time was that the male adulterers would pay a sum of money to the women to keep their names out of the trial. So, the woman single-handedly bore the consequences, while the man got away scot-free.

In the trial, the accused woman would be subjected to severe mental and physical torture. She was often isolated in a cell, where the smarthans (judges) would send in rats, mice and snakes. A popular practice at the time was to pack the woman up in a mat, like you would a dead body, and then roll her down from the housetop. If, after all the physical torture, the woman maintained her innocence, she would be accepted back into the community and invited for a “celebratory meal” with the smarthans. If she admitted to her guilt, she would be disowned and stripped of her Brahmin privileges.

Thathri, already aware of her fate, immediately accepted the accusations. But she made it clear that it wasn’t a crime she had committed alone, and insisted that the men bear equal consequences of their actions.

The trial went on for six months, and by the time it was done, Thathri had named a total of 64 men from across castes and professions. These included Namboodiri Bhrahmins, Tamil Iyer Brahmins, Ambalavasis (assistants to Brahmin priests) and Nairs. Many of these men were prominent artists, scholars, and religious leaders, and two of them were the brothers of the head smarthan of the trial. These men were considered pillars of the local community. The trial was shut abruptly when she was about to reveal the 65th name — the king himself.

Many men she named denied being involved, but she confirmed their identities by recalling moles and birthmarks on their bodies, and even remembered the exact date, time and place of their visits. These men lost all credibility in their community. What’s more is that because of the power these men held, the community suffered a severe economic loss due to their ostracisation.

The downfall of an oppressive system

Little is known of what happened to Thathri after her trial. Her father reportedly died by suicide, the 64 men she called out were all excommunicated. Other members of Kalpakessari Illam also fled the village in shame. Some accounts report that she married a Eurasian railway worker and settled in present-day Tamil Nadu, while some say she assumed a new identity and married into a Nasrani Catholic family. Believers of this theory often say that popular Malayalam actress Sheela is a descendant of Thathri, though she denies this. Some accounts claim Thathri converted to Islam and changed her name to Sainu Beevi.

Regardless, Thathri’s defiance of a grossly casteist and patriarchal society made a lasting impact on the Namboodiri community and Malayali society in general. After her trial, many came forward to question casteist values that dictated what was considered pure and what was not. Thathri’s was one of the last few cases of Smarthavicharam, and the practice eventually died out. The formation of the Namboothiri Yuvajana Sangam 1920 was the final nail in the ritual’s coffin, and the Namboodiri community saw many social reforms. Slowly, the women in the community gained a stronger foothold, and were allowed to venture out and carve niches for themselves.

Matampu Kunukuttan’s novel Brushte (Outcaste), published in 1969, is based on Thathri’s story. Matampu is the grandchild of the chief priest who conducted the trial. In the book, he says, “The extraordinary nature of the case prompted the Raja of Kochi to allow a purushavicharam in which the accused men were allowed to cross-examine Thathri. No one escaped. All 64 along with Thathri lost caste.” The story has since gained notoriety for telling the tale of revenge, and the downfall of an oppressive system.

The case is almost 116 years old, but even today, sex workers continue to be viewed from a lens of stigma and shame. Caste barriers and prevalent misogyny continue to define “purity”, but Thathri’s courage was instrumental in letting women know that it doesn’t always have to be that way. Using her own oppression as an instrument of change, she dismantled the very idea of what a Brahmin man was at the time — no longer a God-like figure that lived above everyone else, but someone who was prone to far more degeneracy than society could fathom at the time.

Edited by Yoshita Rao

Before the advent of the COVID-19 pandemic, Ayyappa Das, a native of Kerala’s Ernakulam district, was a busy carpenter. But when the lockdown began, he was one of the millions of people who were forced to stay at home without any income.

But today, Ayyappa’s story reads differently — he’s a successful ornamental fish seller.

“During the lockdown, I browsed through various web portals and noticed many new businesses that people had launched from home. Some were into pickle sales and some into lotus cultivation, among many more. Because I already had a small collection of guppy fish at home, I decided to try my hands at starting a business of selling them,” he tells The Better India.

Guppies, also known as million fish, rainbow fish and poecilia reticulata (latin), are one of the world’s most widely distributed tropical fish, and one of the most popular freshwater aquarium fish species. They are differentiated by sizes, colours, patterns and tail shapes.

Ayyappa began by posting pictures of young guppies from his collection on his Facebook page, which led to his friends and relatives placing orders. This, in turn, helped him understand how in demand the fish usually is, and he purchased two new fish tanks, as well as two pairs of guppies for Rs 250, from a shop nearby. These were two months old, and both male and female. He placed them in two different bowls for almost two months.

“Guppies can breed when they turn four months old. So once that time period was over, I transferred them into a single bowl so they could breed. Within three months, they began giving birth to babies,” he says.

“In the first instance, there were 10-25 babies, but in the second, the fish gave birth to around 80. They can birth at least five times, but babies born after that won’t be healthy enough,” the 39-year-old explains.

Ayyappa sells the two-month-old babies to customers, as they’re more healthy than the mother guppies. He says that the mother may eat some of the babies after delivery, so one must keep the tank well-fed and with lots of hiding spots. If not, the mother should be moved from the tank immediately after delivery.

“If you want a variety of guppies in your tank, keep two to three female ones for each male one. The male has a tendency to stress the females out by chasing them around the tank,” he adds. He also says that as the guppies are an average of 2 inches long, three can be kept in a 5-gallon tank. But in the long run, a tank of 10-20 gallons would be better.

Ayyappa has over 1,500 guppies in his house, of 18 varieties including platinum red, chilly red, albino red, and red dragon. He earns over Rs 25,000 a month from selling these fish, and till date, has sold over 5,000. His family, which includes a wife, three kids, and his parents, help Ayyappa’s venture by feeding the fish and cleaning the tank. “Taking care of guppies is easy, and if I’m not available at home, my kids take care of them,” he says.

He adds that one can care for guppies even if they have a full-time job. The fish only require to be fed, and their tank is to be cleaned on a daily basis. Ayyappa often conducts lessons that impart similar tips on how to care for the fish.

He tells The Better India a few things to remember before you start breeding guppies at home:

Check the ratio of fresh water: He recommends that the tank should be cleaned every week. The ratio of fresh water to old water should be 60:40. Otherwise, the fish may die, because they cannot tolerate 100% fresh water.

Observe: If you find a fish floating at the bottom of the tank for a long period, this may indicate unhealthy or poor water conditions. The water should be changed immediately.

Fresh air: If the fish naturally has access to fresh air, a filter is not required. If not, one should try to arrange for a sponge filter, as any other would harm the tiny fish.

Food: Ayyappa feeds his fish twice a day. In the morning, he gives them feeding flakes, which are powdered so the fish can consume them easily. In the evening, he provides live food, Moina. He also breeds a Moina culture in his home. He says an interesting fact about guppies is that they can survive without food for a week.

Dead fish: If you see a dead fish, take it out from the tank immediately to avoid infection. You will be able to spot them easily, as they float on top.

(Edited by Divya Sethu)

When Manju Hari’s husband lost his job at the sawmill due to the COVID-19 pandemic, the family’s chances of survival became slim. But a beacon of hope came in the form of her tiny home garden where she grows a collection of moss roses. By selling these roses, the homemaker has been able to earn enough to take care of her family amid the pandemic.

“In a way, I’m grateful for the lockdown, because it showed me the right path to earning an income while staying at home,” Manju, who is from Pathanamthitta, tells The Better India.

In her nursery, the 38-year-old has over a 100 varieties of moss rose, including Cinderella, Jumbo, and Table Rose.

Before the lockdown, Manju had collected moss rose seeds from a friend in Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala. Within 10 days, the rose germinated and bloomed. Over time, she began growing new seeds using artificial pollination of different varieties of plants in her garden. “There are different methods to grow moss roses, including growing the seeds and by cutting stems. I use the latter, as it’s easier,” she says.

Ten o’ clock flower

Manju usually cuts around 10 cm off the top of the plant’s stem. She then puts it in a jar with enough water to cover the bottom of the stem. Within days, the roots sprout, and the stem can then be moved to a growing tray. Moss roses, also known as portulaca, come in an array of colours like orange, yellow, cream white, and red.

The vibrant colours of Manju’s moss rose garden attracted neighbours and relatives alike, and they began buying the plant from her. “I sell the stems for Rs 5 each, and have been doing so since the beginning. I’ve never felt the need to increase the price – whatever I receive now is more than I expected. In a year, I’ve sold moss rose stems worth over Rs 1 lakh. I earn an average of Rs 10,000 a month,” she says.

Manju says she receives orders from all over India, including Mumbai, Bengaluru and Delhi.

In Malayalam, moss ross is known as pathumani poovu (which means ten o’ clock flower), as the plant blooms at 10 am. The plant can be grown in a small flower pot, in bowls, and even in open areas. It doesn’t require too much space, and only grows up to 8 inches and spreads across 2 feet.

Things to remember

Manju says the only thing to keep in mind before planting moss roses is to make sure the growing tray is ready. Garden soil, cow dung powder and coconut husk should be added to the tray. She waters the plants twice a day. “These moss roses only require a small amount of water. Some days, I water them only once,” she says.

Like other plants, moss roses can also be infected by fungal diseases. Once fungus is seen in the soil, the plant should be removed immediately, else the fungus will spread to other plants. It can be treated by applying organic pesticides like green wood neem oil and neem leaves.

“I always make sure I tell my consumers all the details they should know before purchasing moss roses. I also advise them to not panic if they see fungus in their plants, because it’s natural,” she says. Once she receives orders, the plants are packed and couriered immediately.

Manju says watching her plants bloom every morning not only brings a smile to her face, but also eases her stress and brings her peace of mind. To share and spread this feeling, she’s encouraging other plant lovers to buy moss roses as well.

If you’re interested in ordering a moss rose plant, you can contact Manju at 9562003503.

Edited by Divya Sethu

Five years ago, when the United Nations General Assembly declared 2016 as the International Year of Pulses, journalist Narayanan Kannalayam began his research into the pulses cultivated in his home state, Kerala.

“My research took me to Wayanad’s M S Swaminathan Research Foundation’s Community Agrobiodiversity Centre. There, I found out that 97 varieties of beans are grown in Kerala, and of them, three are wild varieties which are not edible. I took 23 varieties from the institute back home,” 51-year-old Narayanan, who belongs to Kasaragod, tells The Better India.

He began cultivating the seeds the same year on his 7-acre land. He also collected over 80 varieties of beans from traditional farmers all over India, including areas like Rajasthan and Assam.

“I was aware of organic cultivation from a young age, because I come from an agricultural family. I grow beans to conserve them, rather than to make a profit. I grow around 30 varieties at a time, because growing them all together is hard and increases the risk of cross-pollination,” he says. With this thought in mind, he says he’s rather a conservator than a farmer.

“Years ago, many farmers were conservators as well, but now they focus more on hybrid varieties and their distribution. A farmer should never forget that only if old varieties survive can new ones be made,” he says.

Mr Bean

Narayanan’s mother P Shantha and wife Sreeja help him at the farm. Their routine entails reaching fields to water the plants around 5 am, and by 7:30, Narayanan heads for office. His mother and wife look into other requirements on the land, such as planting new saplings and harvesting vegetables. Narayanan returns home by 4 in the evening, and joins his mother and wife on the plot, where they hand over the remaining work to him. After finishing off work around 10 pm, he hits the sack, as he has to be up early the next day.

Narayanan grows 87 varieties of beans on his farm, including puli payar, kappa payar, piriyan, chatura payar and valli payar. Apart from beans, he also grows cauliflower, ginger, radish, carrot, ridge gourd, snake gourd, bitter gourd, okra, dragon fruit, mango, spinach, brinjal, cucumber, cassava, yam, taro, turmeric, sweet potato, sugarcane, rubber, among others. He also has 12 varieties of plantain and seven varieties of lemon. He uses cow dung powder for manure.

The produce is sold at Kolathur Farmers’ Society at Perladukkam in Bedadka panchayat, from which he earns around Rs 25,000 a month. He sells the seeds to nearby farmers in his village. “I want other farmers to cultivate vegetables as well, and to motivate them, I give out these seeds for free. More than 25 farmers collect seeds from me on a monthly basis,” he says,

Narayanan also sells value-added products like bitter gourd crisps and curd chilli, which are now popular products in her village.

Inspiring many others like him

Students from different schools and colleges also visit Narayanan’s land to learn about cultivation. “Most students know about the different varieties of vegetables and fruits, but haven’t seen them all in real life. After taking guidance from me, many have started their own kitchen garden,” Narayanan says.

Around 80 women have started growing their own kitchen gardens as well. Nalini M, former gram panchayat member and Narayanan’s neighbour, says, “I visited Narayanan’s organic garden several times, and was inspired to grow my own vegetables. Now, I grow beans, tomato, banana and chilli. Many homemakers like me have their own kitchen garden at home as well in Bedadka.”

Edited by Divya Sethu

“I have always wanted to travel. New surroundings keep me going in the search to soak up more of what there is to experience in life. So, I made up my mind to follow my heart’s desire and travel to Kashmir in 2021,” Nidhin M R tells The Better India.

Nidhin is on a 100-day mission from his hometown in Kerala’s Thrissur to Jammu and Kashmir on his bicycle. The 23-year-old tea maker is covering his expenses by selling tea along the way.

He further adds, “It was during the lockdown that I took this decision to embark on the journey. Travelling teaches me about the way societies function in different regions and what they offer in terms of culture.”

Where there is a will to cycle, there is a way

Before commencing his over 3,300 km journey, Nidhin made a plan. The first and most important was the need for a vehicle. As he didn’t have enough money to rent a bike for the journey, he ended up in repairing his younger brother’s bicycle.

“As the trend of taking cycles to schools vanished, my brother, who is in Class 12, stopped using his bicycle years ago. So I thought — why not give it a makeover and make it my travel buddy to Kashmir,” he says.

In order to repair the cycle, the tea vendor used the money he got from selling his favourite camera Sony DSC-H300, which he had bought with his savings. He got Rs 13,000 from its sale and repaired the cycle chain and the cycle brakes within one week.

“I travelled to Kozhikode to sell my camera. While heading back home, I was tired and slept on the bus. When I woke up, I realised how tiring the journey was. I was concerned about how I would manage travelling to Kashmir on a cycle if I couldn’t even handle a shorter round trip on a bus. But, I had made up my mind for the trip,” he says.

Apart from repairing the cycle, he bought a portable fuel stove, which he carries on his bicycle. “As I worked as a tea maker for almost two years, I was confident enough that I will get customers for my tea,” he says.

On 1 January 2021, Nidhin began his journey with just Rs 170 in his pocket. In just 30 days, he has reached Rajasthan.

Guided by Google Maps and the locals

With a laminated poster on a plain white sheet of paper that reads ‘Kerala to Kashmir’ attached to his cycle, Nidhin stops to pose along the way to bookmark his journey.

Everyday, at around 5.30 am, Nidhin begins his journey. He cycles till around 4pm, making his way north with the help of Google Maps and then finds a comfy location to prepare and sell tea. “I usually end the journey in the evening near a shop where water and milk is available. This helps me prepare the tea easily. The other ingredients such as sugar and tea powder are stocked in my bag. I also have a tea vessel and a flask which can carry 35 cups of tea,” he says.

By selling the 35 cups of tea, Nidhin makes around Rs 350 a day. With this money, he buys food and other essentials for the journey. He also adds that there are many people who give him money even without buying his tea.

After selling tea, he moves to the nearest petrol station. From there, he prepares his tent for the night.

But when Google Maps fails to show him the right path, it’s the locals that come to his rescue and help him find the right direction to his next destination.

“During the beginning of my journey, I didn’t have a good helmet or gloves to wear. But learning about my travels and my final destination, many have helped by buying me these necessary items for my safety,” he says.

On some days, Nidhin says his legs get swollen from all the pedalling, but even still, this young lad is not willing to give up until he sees the mountainous terrain of Kashmir.

Edited by Yoshita Rao

While many lost their jobs during the pandemic, two MBA graduates quit their jobs to start a venture, employing mothers and homemakers. Today, their brand, Athey Nallatha — which means ‘That’s good’, empowers middle-aged mothers to prepare pickles on a small scale.

Launched in July 2020, today Athey Nallatha employs over 30 mothers to ensure the hygienic and nutritional value of the product is kept intact. The brand claims to avoid “harmful preservatives” and uses only high-quality ingredients.

The founder of Athey Nallatha, Hafez Rahman, says, “While speaking to my mother about the pandemic one day, she asked me to start something new that would generate income for others during the lockdown. So I discussed the matter with my friend, Akshay Raveendran, and we decided to start something which provides employment to mothers.”

Before Athey Nallatha was conceptualised, Hafez worked as an HR professional and Akshay worked in the marketing department of a sports brand. But deciding on what to sell was the easiest decision for the duo thus far.

Hafez, 28, says that they got the idea to sell homemade pickles as it is a must-have in most Kerala homes. The duo went to the market to find out how ordinary pickles are made for cheap prices. “During our research, we understood that the local brands pick up low-quality food items to make the product. There was a need for good quality pickles in the market,” the Kochi native says.

Asked why he thought of employing homemakers, and Hafez says, “I believe that the taste of pickles improves when prepared by mothers. No chef will be able to replicate that taste.”

Hafez’s mother, Alisa Ashraf, says, “During the initial days of the lockdown, I saw many in my neighbourhood losing their jobs. To help them I suggested that Hafez start a venture of his own. Today, I am the happiest and very proud that my son employed over 30 women, myself included, in his venture.”

A fusion of pickles

The company makes five pickle varieties that have a unique mix of ingredients. Co-founder Akshay, 25, says, “We have a variety of fusion pickles such as — A Chemeen Connection which is a mix of prawn and papaya pickle; Munthirivalliyum thenmavum, a Grape and mango pickle; Indo-Arab Connection pickle that has lime and dates; Le meilleur Beef which is a mix of beef and carrot and Jalpushp 2.O which is a fish and mango pickle.”

The price of a 250 gram pickle jar starts from Rs 179 and goes up to Rs 249. All these fusion pickle variants are prepared after consulting a nutritionist. The team is also planning to launch other fusion pickles, including chicken and prawns and brinjal and scarlet gourds.

The 25-year-old adds that all the pickles have health benefits which are listed on the pickle bottles too. While one improves bone health, another helps with digestion and others still improve blood quotient and boosts energy. Akshay says, “Our journey began with 13 mothers and now we have around 34 mothers on our team. We wish to expand our venture by adding more mothers into our group from different parts of Kerala.”

A venture that started by the duo’s own mothers selling homemade pickles has now turned into a platform for mothers from different parts of the Ernakulam district.

Jijji Nandakumar, who is one among the many mothers at Athey Nallatha says, “I started to work with the team six months ago. My son is Hafez’s friend, which is how I came to know about the venture. As I love to cook, my son asked me whether I would be interested in joining the team. At the age of 54 I am happy to say that I earn Rs 18,000 monthly from making pickles.”

She adds, “I believe experience is the biggest key to success. And with all my cooking experience at home, this job is worry-free. During the lockdown days, I used to work from home and now I go to the main facility in Thrippunithura, Kochi, to work. But the brand allows me the flexibility to work from home whenever I want.”

The art of homemade pickling

As the first step, the sales team collects the pesticide/fertiliser-free, community grown raw materials from Kerala’s organic farmers. They then distribute it to homemakers and scattered units in different parts of Kerala where the mothers work.

The homemakers are assigned jobs, such as cutting, peeling and frying the vegetables and meats, based on their preferences. Once the pickles are ready for packing, a team at Athey Nallatha come to the homemakers’ doorstep for its collection.

Ensuring all measures related to coronavirus are met, the team brings the homemade components to the main facility in Thrippunithura for the final step which is conducted by Alisa Ashraf herself. From there, Alisa prepares and packs the pickles in bottles with the help of other team members.

The duo tell me Athey Nallatha receives the most number of orders from South Indian states, including Kerala and Tamil Nadu. “People residing in Gulf countries — Bahrain, Kuwait, Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, have also shown interest in the pickle and we are working on our supply chain for the same,” Akshay signs off.

To order from Athey Nallatha, one can do so on their website or contact them on 95671 35217.

(Edited by Yoshita Rao)

When P Siva Kumar, a native of Palakkad in Kerala, lost his job 16 years ago, his family’s survival hit a massive roadblock. “I lost my job at BPL when my office closed down. I was under a lot of pressure,” he tells The Better India.

“Seeing how depressed I was, my better half, Sandhya, suggested I start a venture that would need minimal investment and where she could offer equal support,” he recalls. For the couple, frying up rice kondattam (fryums or crisp fries) seemed the most ideal, with Siva Kumar having spent his childhood relishing the snack his mother used to make. His wife is an expert cook too, he says, and seeking inspiration from both the women’s culinary skills, he began frying the snacks himself.

Made with love

“My wife and I made the first batch and shared it with friends and relatives. The response was great,” he says. This was the final push for them to start Amritha Foods in 2005, which they began with minimal investment, and by simply using whatever ingredients were available at home. They now sell over 10 kinds of kondattam, including spinach and tomato flavours.

“I approached shop owners with my product, but initially, they weren’t too interested in buying it from me. I told them the kondattam was homemade, and it took a while to convince them, but they eventually agreed. Now local stores and supermarkets across Palakkad sell our products,” he says.

All recipes of Amritha Foods belong to Siva Kumar’s mother. Siva Kumar says she taught the recipes to Sandhya, who now supervises his cooking.

“Kondanttam is easy to make at home, but people might not find time amid their busy schedules. Our aim is to provide these people with fresh homemade snacks,” he says.

Only a few simple steps

Sandhya says the fryums are made by first grinding the rice with salt and a masala powder made using a secret recipe, and then filling the mixture into a chakli press. “The mixture is then pressed against and laid out on a cotton cloth or plate, and kept under the hot sun to remove all moisture. Once one side is dry, the same is done with the other, and the dish is then fried in hot oil,” she says.

Sandhya and Siva Kumar started off by selling 10 kilos of the product a day. Today, the production is almost at 100 kg per day. The kondattam is sold the same day as it is prepared, ensuring that the snacks customers get are fresh. One kilo of kondattam is sold at Rs 180, and the prices go up to Rs 500, with the cost sometimes varying with the price of the vegetable.

Siva Kumar says customers loved the way the snacks tasted, and would come back inquiring about vegetable flavours. The couple then began selling various flavours such as tomato, tomato, garlic, bitter gourd, onion, spinach and banana shoot.

Biju Krishna, a resident of Palakkad, has been buying kondattam from Amritha Foods since his college days. Before that, it was a snack his mother made for him at home. “It’s been almost five years since I became a regular customer. The flavours keep me coming back for more,” he tells The Better India.

With the profit they made, the couple bought a dryer machine, pulveriser, and roaster machine, among others, totally worth Rs 10 lakh. “As subsidy from the Kerala government, we got back 30% of this money,” Siva Kumar says.

The couple now makes around Rs 50,000 from selling kondattam. Amritha Foods is registered under the Food Safety and Standards Authority of India (FSSAI), and also sells products in Pollachi and Coimbatore in Tamil Nadu.

For orders, one can contact Amritha Foods on their WhatsApp number, 90371 89775.

(Edited by Divya Sethu)

While many may want to spend retired life in luxury, only a few may opt to toil away in the soil. Working as a bank manager all his life, K Rajmohan decided to devote his retirement to agriculture.

“Even though I didn’t have any prior experience in farming, with patience and practice, cultivating fruits became easier for me,” Rajmohan says, adding, “I have changed the conception that grapes grow only in hilly areas by cultivating them on my terrace in Kerala’s Thiruvananthapuram district using grow bags.”

In 2015, Rajmohan began his journey with 20 grow bags. Today, he has fruits and vegetables growing in 200 grow bags on his 1,250-square-foot terrace.

During the initial days, he cultivated vegetables such as tomato, cucumber, pumpkin, which gave him a good yield.

Today, Rajmohan’s garden includes snake gourd, coriander, chilli, cabbage, cauliflower, bitter gourd, ginger, turmeric, wild turmeric, bush pepper, groundnut, brinjal, spinach, beans, ivy gourd, ber apple, grapes, passion fruit, lime, papaya, banana, grapes, mulberry, strawberry, yam and corn.

The retired bank manager invested Rs 2 lakh for his rooftop cultivation. “Rooftop garden is an expensive affair but a one-time investment. Though the produce you reap will always be organic and fresh,” Rajmohan says.

Getting started as a roof-top cultivator

Talking about the preparations, he says that he bought plastic sheets and spread them on the terrace. Above this, metal stands and bricks were arranged to place the grow bags.

Apart from the grow bags, flowerpots and sacks were also placed on top of them to avoid water logging on the terrace. To keep the crops away from direct sunlight, Rajmohan covered his entire terrace with a shade net.

The 55-year-old tells me he collects the seeds or saplings from a nearby agro bazaar as they are “reliable sources”.

“Many neighbours and friends have asked me if all kinds of fruits and vegetables can be grown on a terrace farm. To clear their doubts, I started cultivating different plants on my terrace,” he says.

One query that cropped up was ‘how to grow grapes on your terrace’. And so, Rajmohad began cultivating grapes and also got a good yield from his first harvest of up to 5 kilos. Here’s how he did it.

Through the grapevine

After a little research, he says, “I collected two one-month-old grape seedlings from the agro bazaar and simultaneously prepared the grow bags for the plants.”

Soil preparation also plays an important role in the plant’s growth. Rajmohan let the soil sit in the sunlight for 10 days to destroy the microbes in it. Then, he added a dash of lime to the soil and kept it covered with a cloth for two weeks.

After this, he added equal parts of cow dung powder, coconut husk and vermicompost to the soil. Later, three-fourth of the grow bag was filled with this mixture.

“I then planted the two grape seedlings from the nursery bags into my grow bags. They were placed in a sunny and warm area of my terrace. When the grape vines grew, I kept only two healthy vines and removed the others, as my friends suggested. This, they said, would help with the growth of the plants,” he says.

Rajmohan then trimmed the leafy branches of the vines and built a trellis of bamboo to support the vines. Within nine months, the plants were ready for harvest. He now cuts the smaller branches of the plants when the vines fail to bear fruit. He adds that grapes bear fruit thrice in a year.

The grape vines need to be watered one to three times a day, depending on the weather. To get rid of insects, Rajmohan uses organic pesticides such as a solution of bird’s eye chilli and garlic or rice water and ash. The bugs on the leaves are destroyed by using a neem oil emulsion.

He says, “I use animal bone powder, neem cake, bio compost and groundnut cake as manure for the plants. Every two weeks, the manure is added into the grow bags.”

He usually distributes the produce he cultivates to his neighbours and friends. He also shares the seeds of his plants with those who wish to cultivate. Till date, many neighbours have also sought classes from Rajmohan about cultivating fruits and vegetables on a rooftop and he is more than willing to oblige.

Edited by Yoshita Rao

When Sageer Upahara’s pandal work was hit during the pandemic, like many others, he sought help from social media to hunt for a new job. “I was browsing for work from home options when I came across the concept of fish farming on terraces,” the 37-year-old native of Thrissur, Kerala tells The Better India.

He began breeding fish on a trial basis. “I was a little worried because I had no experience in breeding fish. YouTube videos helped me understand the process in detail,” he says.

First, Sageer did research on how to construct a fish tank on his terrace. He made it using frames, cement and a tarpaulin. Then, he contacted a fish nursery in Thrissur and bought 1,000 fingerlings of tilapia fish. The pandal worker also brought a motor to purify the water in the pond, aerators, nets, and fish feed, which cost him about Rs 37,000. This money came from his savings as a pandal worker.

Around 20 fish died, unable to adjust to their new surroundings, but the remaining grew well in the 10,000-litre tank. They were fed growel fish feed twice a day. “Maintaining a feeding routine helps the fish lead a stable life. My children feed the fish in my absence, or my wife or parents do it,” he says.

Along with breeding tilapia, Sageer also grows vegetables using aquaponics. Nutrients from the fish waste pose as food for the produce. “I have been cultivating spinach, tomato, and lady’s finger using this method. This technique helps in good growth of the plants, and also helps purify the water,” he says.

After about six months, in December 2020, he harvested around 200 kilos of fish. Each fish weighed around 500 grams. Some premature fish were retained in the tank to be harvested for the next season.

A host of health benefits

“Tilapia fish can be eaten, and has mild and white fillets that are appropriate for making at home as well as by restaurants,” he says. Sageer’s tilapias were mainly sold to villagers in his area, at Rs 230 per kilo, earning around Rs 46,000. The villagers, who were mostly unfamiliar with fish farming at home, were more than interested to buy from him.

While conducting his research on the fish, Sageer realised how many health benefits they carry. Tilapias have omega-3 fatty acids which have been linked to lower risk of heart attacks and strokes. The fish is also good for the brain and offers protection against degenerative mental conditions such as dementia. It is also good for bone health and is a good source of potassium and selenium.

Sageer now breeds pangasius fish as well. He has constructed a new tank of the ground floor, after having run out of space on the terrace. The 16,000-litre tank houses around 400 fingerlings of pangasius. “I bought them from the same nursery at Rs 8 each. Pangasius is similar to tilapia in the sense that it can be harvested within six months. I’ll do that in April this year,” he says.
Pangasius also has numerous health benefits — it is rich in protein, has zero sodium, and is low in saturated fat and cholesterol.

Pandal work has since resumed after the lockdown ended, but Sageer says he is planning to expand his fish farm and breed more varieties in the coming years.

(Edited by Divya Sethu)

How many of you can honestly say that a one-hour conversation changed the entire course of your life?

In May 1983, Balagopal Chandrasekhar visited the Sree Chitra Tirunal Institute for Medical Sciences & Technology in Thiruvananthapuram out of curiosity after reading news reports that its research and development (R&D) wing had indigenously developed blood bags to facilitate blood transfers.

At the time, he was a 30-year-old officer of the Indian Administrative Service (IAS).

There he met Professor AV Ramani, who at the time was heading the institute’s R&D wing. It was a serendipitous meeting, but the conversation that followed inspired Balagopal to quit the IAS a few months later and start his own venture Penpol (Peninsula Polymers) Limited. In 1999, Penpol entered into a joint venture with the Terumo Corporation of Japan. Today, Terumo Penpol Ltd is the biggest manufacturer of blood bags in India and one of the world’s biggest makers of high-tech bio-medical devices.

So, what did Professor Ramani tell Balagopal on that fateful morning of May 1983?

Speaking to The Better India, Balagopal recollects the passionate arguments Ramani made in favour of local industry leveraging the fruits of Indian science.

“Professor Ramani believed that Indian industry was missing out on game-changing research of national institutions like the Sree Chitra Institute because of the false notion that Indian scientific and technological capabilities were of inferior quality. This false notion, he believed, prevented many Indian technologists and industrialists from taking their ideas further. Citing the example of the Sree Chitra Institute, he said that it was making bio-medical devices that very few companies in the world could access. He felt that anyone starting a venture based on the technologies they were developing would be able to get into the ground floor of a vast and expanding market of healthcare products,” recalls Balagopal.

It’s imperative to note that this conversation was happening in the early 1980s, when economic policy was predominantly driven by ideas like import substitution and saving foreign exchange. By having a domestic manufacturer making high quality blood bags, India could enable a quality blood transfusion service without losing too much foreign exchange.

“However, my main motivating factor was not saving foreign exchange, but taking Indian science and technology to the world. I had finally found meaning and purpose in my life,” he recalls. He quit the IAS just six years into the job when the private sector did not offer many employment opportunities. Moreover, Balagopal was venturing into a market he knew little about. But it was other mitigating circumstances that fuelled this decision.

Finding His Way

Born on 2 October 1952 in Kollam, Kerala, Balagopal grew up in relative privilege. Spending most of his childhood in rubber and tea estates across Wayanad and the Nilgiri Hills, where his father was a manager, Balagopal attended boarding school at Lawrence School, Lovedale, before pursuing a Bachelors’ degree in economics from Loyola College, Chennai. He would go on to obtain his Masters’ degree in economics from Madras University before proceeding to a PhD programme at the University of Kerala.

While pursuing a PhD, he fulfilled his parents’ wish of passing the UPSC exam in 1976, and by July 1977 he joined the IAS. Allotted the Manipur cadre, Balagopal was first posted as a trainee in Tamenglong district. This was followed by his first posting as a sub-divisional officer (SD) in Ukhrul district before a similar stint in Imphal West.

But the untimely death of his younger brother, Ram, during a training exercise as a recently commissioned officer of the Indian Army in 1979, put a real spanner in the works. With matters at home in “a real mess”, Balagopal had applied for an indefinite leave. However, his seniors advised against such a move this early in his career. So, by the middle of 1980, they helped him obtain an inter-cadre deputation back to Kerala.

There he would serve as SDO of Kollam, following which he was posted in a public service undertaking under the Government of Kerala. After finishing his tenure in Kerala, he returned to Manipur, but things weren’t quite the same anymore. To make matters worse, his father had fallen very ill, and with a younger brother still in high school, there was no one to look after his aging parents. Besides these mitigating circumstances, however, doubts had begun to creep in about whether serving in the IAS was the life he wanted.

“Like many youngsters of my generation, there was very little clarity on what we wanted to do with our lives. My decision to get into the IAS was driven by my parents’ desire that I join the service. But I enjoyed my time in the IAS too and even wrote three books about it,” he recalls.

The meeting with Prof Ramani changed all that. He now had a sense of purpose. Fortunately, even his parents supported his decision to quit the IAS and start a new venture. In fact, his father even offered his savings to fund this new venture.

Entrepreneur Dreams

Incorporated in 1985, Penpol Limited’s first plant to manufacture blood bags was commissioned in 1987 with the total project cost standing at a little over Rs 1 crore.

Apart from Balagopal, the equity to construct this plant came from the Kerala State Industrial Development Corporation (KSIDC), National Research Development Corporation (NRDC) and the Industrial Development Bank of India’s (IDBI) seed capital scheme. Loans, meanwhile, also came from the KSIDC and the State Bank of Travancore.

In its first phase (1987 to 1992/93), the company faced all kinds of problems related to scaling up the technological knowledge they obtained from the Sree Chitra Institute.

“Though the product looked fairly simple to make, we later understood why there were only six manufacturers of blood bags in the world. It’s a tough product to make. We learnt everything the hard way because the technological know-how was closely guarded by global multinationals dominating the field. There was barely any academic literature and we had no internet available at the time to seek answers. We had to learn by trial and error,” he says.

However, the company had a couple of things going for them.

They had Dr CSB Nair, a scientist and an experienced polymer chemist who had experience in developing intellectual property and patents, who was coaxed out of retirement.

Building a small team around Dr Nair, Balagopal delegated the task of monitoring the transfer of technology from the laboratory to industrial scale manufacturing to Dr Nair’s team. Liaising with the Sree Chitra Institute, Dr Nair asked the right questions and conducted regular experiments to ensure they got the blood bag technology right. Dr Nair was in his 60s when he joined Penpol. He retired from the company at 95, only a couple of months back.

More importantly, the company was willing to take risks, try new ideas and spend money on trials. But none of this would have been possible without the necessary support from financial institutions backing the venture.

“We ran up huge losses in the beginning. It was only the regular infusion of equity that kept our operations going. All the equity infusion came from these financial institutions. When I started out, my equity holding in the company stood at 40%. In five years time, it dropped to 10%. However, these institutions had enough faith in me to keep putting whatever amount was required to cover the losses because I did everything by the book,” he recalls.

Balagopal doesn’t hide the fact that this is an unusual story in Indian entrepreneurship. It took the company five years to develop a product of international quality. By 1993-94, the company entered the export market. For the next five years it developed a culture of continuous improvement, whether in the quality of labeling, packaging, flexibility of tubes, etc. Though the economic liberalisation of 1991 provided another jolt to their business.

With the Indian economy opening itself up, foreign players began entering the domestic market. Many global blood bag manufacturers got the necessary approvals from the government’s Foreign Investment Promotion Board (FIPB) to start their own plants in India. Now, Penpol had to compete with these major international players.

“We had to take a strategic call and I decided that if we can’t beat them, let us join them. So, I started talking to the big boys. This process began in the mid-1990s and by 1999, we signed a joint venture deal with the Terumo Corporation. They became part of the company by buying out all the financial institutions, leaving just Terumo, my brother C. Padmakumar, who was the executive director and I, the managing director. As part of the deal, our (brothers) shareholding grew to 26%. Terumo wanted to ensure that my brother and I had enough skin in the game to remain interested in the company,” recalls Balagopal.

The shareholding deal was attractive to the brothers. All further capacity expansion would be funded out of the preference capital so that the voting share percentage remains the same.

Capital and Culture from Japan, and Technology from India

Typically, any joint venture (JV) arrangement involving a large MNC, particularly a market leader like Terumo, will have three dimensions to it — financial security for capacity expansion, availability of high-grade technology and greater access to markets abroad.

The JV arrangement worked spectacularly in terms of finance. Over the next 10 years, the company underwent at least three rounds of capacity expansion.

“On the question of technology, however, there was a twist. The Japanese not only found that our technology was very good, but also very competitive. Our technology could produce high-quality blood bags at much more competitive prices than their own. It was a unique case of a Japanese company accepting the technological capabilities of their Indian partner. They not only refused to interfere in the manufacturing process, but all capacity expansion was centred on our indigenously developed technology,” he says.

On the question of greater access to international markets, it’s imperative to note that before the JV, Penpol’s blood bags had already passed very strict regulatory processes in different countries.

Terumo was a global market leader in blood bags before the JV. Although their products were of very good quality, they were getting priced out of certain markets because of the high cost of manufacturing. With Penpol’s indigenously developed technology, they could now enter markets that were otherwise closed to them.

However, what the Japanese brought to the table besides finance was a revolutionary working culture based on the principles of Kaizen, which means continuous improvement, and 5S, a series of steps a manager or employee can pursue to organise the workplace. The English translation of the 5S concept stands for sort, straighten, shine, standardise and sustain.

“We gained immensely from the quality and philosophy of their shop floor management system. We were able to learn all these things from the horse’s mouth because we had experienced technical persons from Japan living in Thiruvananthapuram who had taken up apartments in the city and were working full time in our factory,” he notes.

Retirement With a Purpose

Balagopal and Padmakumar eventually sold their stake in 2011. While Balagopal retired as Managing Director, his younger brother took on the post until his retirement last March.

When he started Penpol, Balagopal had 50 employees. By his retirement, the company had 1200 employees. Since its inception in 1985, the company has grown over 300 times under Balagopal’s tenure and sold blood bags in over 64 countries across the world. What would take the company a year to make in the 1980s, now takes them just two shifts in one day. That’s progress!

But long before corporate social responsibility (CSR), Balagopal ensured that Penpol would closely engage with village panchayats living in the vicinity of their factory. By the late 1990s, the company adopted four primary and upper primary schools, a primary health centre and a community health centre.

They were also involved in various community development activities in Thiruvananthapuram district from bridge construction to road building or sending their engineers to assist panchayats in drawing up infrastructure building plans.

As the new management’s priorities changed over time, to fulfil the requirements of these village panchayats, Balagopal and his wife Vinita Nambiar started the Anaha Trust. “We put in a substantial amount of money in the trust to state that we would go ahead with our efforts at social development whether the company was engaged in it or not,” he says.

A couple of years later, Balagopal and Vinita shifted base to Kochi. Once they made the move, they started looking at other areas they could impact.

They selected Wayanad and the Nilgiri Hills that are predominantly inhabited by the Adivasi community, where Balagpal spent most of his childhood. The Anaha Trust is supporting a rural hospital in Gudalur and livelihood development projects in Wayanad. But in the last five years, the Trust has significantly stepped up its engagement with various social development projects in Manipur, where Balagopal served as an IAS officer all those years back.

“We support the Sunbird Trust started by Colonel (Retd) Christopher Rego for the building of schools, laboratories, computer centres and hostels in the remote hill villages of Manipur. In addition, we are funding David Gandhi, an agricultural scientist who is helping remote villages adopt eco-friendly farming practices. We are also supporting three local organisations—Recognize, Rise and Empower Association (RREA), an education initiative, MaolKeki Foundation, a livelihoods initiative and the Entrepreneurs Associate,” he says.

In many ways, Balagopal is retracing his steps after a very successful career as an entrepreneur by returning to places that hold meaning. After all, it was his desire to find real meaning in life that first drove his risky decision to quit the IAS nearly 40 years ago.

(Edited by Yoshita Rao)

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In 2005, KC Sijoy, a resident of Kanjani village in Thrissur, Kerala returned from Saudi Arabia after working for a few years as a mould maker in a large industry. He left Kerala after he finished a Tool and Die Making course at the Nettur Technical Training Foundation (NTTF). Once he returned, Sijoy wanted to start a business of his own. Around him, there were several people involved in coconut cultivation, distribution, and selling tender coconut water to consumers.

“I noticed that street vendors who sell tender coconuts on push-carts were spending a lot of manual labour in peeling the coconut, and most of them don’t focus on attractive presentation. I did some research to find out whether there were any mechanical solutions to cut coconuts. While there were some, the machines were only focussed on tender coconuts and were unsuitable for mature ones with hard exteriors,” says Sijoy, adding that when vendors purchase coconuts in bulk, sometimes they receive mature ones.

After spending 10 years researching, Sijoy came up with a mechanical coconut peeling device. Not only does this machine take 40 seconds to peel one coconut, it also slices the semi-hard covering into 1-millimeter pieces so that it can be used as cattle feed.

Innovating the machine

To build the machine, Sijoy rented an old workshop near his home and rented heavy machinery, including welding machines from the local Ministry of Micro, Small, and Medium Enterprises (MSME). He designed the prototype using the experience he gained from the technical course at NTTF and while working in Saudi Arabia.

The machine is powered by a 500-watt motor and has a lever on one end to hold and release the coconut, along with a rotating device on the other end, to revolve the coconut. A sharp knife is placed under the coconut, which is operated by a pulley system that moves left to right. Another lever can bring down two more sharp knives to slice the edges.

“The machine is equipped with 100mm blades that remove the entire outer covering within 40 seconds. After this, the peeled coconut is placed on a cutting board attached to the machine to remove to the top and bottom. The coconut is left in a cylindrical shape, with a flat top and bottom, which makes it safe for transportation and easy for stocking,” says Sijoy, adding that the flesh and water remain unaffected. The consumer would have to break open the top using a sharp knife to remove the contents inside.

In 2015, with one prototype, Sijoy applied for a patent and got the approval for the same in 2017. Under a registered business named Koocos Industries, he partnered with a few supermarkets to sell the peeled coconut at Rs 30 each. The coconuts were supplied from a local distributor.

“It worked smoothly and I was able to peel 40 to 50 coconut in one hour. But, I stopped distribution in a few months to prepare the machine for commercial-level usage,” Sijoy says.

Upgrading the technology

To ensure that the device could accommodate any size of coconut, Sijoy decided to remodel a few portions of the device. He also decided to upgrade to a 750-watt motor so that the machine can peel at least 60 to 80 coconuts in one hour.

“The commercial model is not available in the market yet. But, once I am done making the modifications, I will distribute a few models across Thrissur district. For one year, I will monitor the performance, make changes if necessary, and then sell the final model across India,” says Sijoy.

Being incubated under the Agri-preneurship Orientation Programme of the Kerala Agricultural University, early in February, Koocos Industries was selected as one of the top three startups. Sijoy also received a Central government grant of Rs 25 lakhs for developing his innovation.

K P Sudheer, Head of RAFTAAR Agri-Business Incubator, Department of Agricultural Engineering at Kerala Agricultural University, says, “While there are other mechanical coconut peelers in the market, Sijoy’s machine is hi-tech, and is equipped to break through tough shells.”

(Edited by Divya Sethu)

“Having reached the interview stage of the UPSC civil service examination and losing out by a mere two marks made me feel miserable. Instead of spending too much time in self-pity, I decided to change the lives around me,” begins Jobin S Kottaram (39).

In 2010, after missing out on making it to the selected candidate list of UPSC CSE, Jobin started Absolute IAS Academy, keeping in mind the aspirants who come from Kerala, and might not be very conversant in English. Speaking to The Better India, Jobin says, “One of the biggest reasons why many aspirants from Kerala seem to miss out on is the English language, and I wanted to change that scenario.” Even though UPSC CSE gives students the option of attempting the paper in their mother tongue, not many know about it.

“This option has been available for almost 60 years since 1964. Aspirants can appear for the examination in any one of the 22 different regional languages,” he adds. Unfortunately, while this is true, the lack of resource material in regional language does not make it conducive for aspirants to choose this option. In 2010, Jobin started putting together resource material in Malayalam, and as of 2021, he has written over 40 books for aspirants in the language.

Turning Adversity Into An Opportunity

“I would be lying if I said I was not dejected for not making the list. It was a dream that I had nurtured and worked very hard towards. The next thing best would be to train others and help them crack the examination and it was with that vision that I started the academy,” he says. In 2010 when the academy was established, Jobin was only helping aspirants who took up Malayalam as their optional paper. Eventually, he established it as a full-fledged academy.

So far, 108 students from the academy have managed to crack the UPSC examinations and for Jobin that has been the biggest victory and motivation to do more.

The Chitrasalabham (butterfly) Initiative

Seeing the success of the academy, Jobin started another vertical called Chitrasalabham to assist differently-abled students prepare and appear for the civil service examination. Speaking about this initiative, he says, “We received 150 applications for this programme and following an interview process, we selected 25 students for the programme. I have taken on the role of a mentor and ensure that I spend quality time with each of the students. Not just this, each student selected for this programme also gets a scholarship of Rs 1,10,000/.” Jobin is able to give out these scholarships because of the money that the academy makes, and says that he wishes to continue doing this.

“I have students who are not just hardworking but also immensely dedicated. What holds them back is the language barrier and through the programme, we wish to help them overcome that and be able to communicate well in their mother tongue,” he says. He shares how he was inspired by Anand Kumar, the founder of Super30 in Bihar, and after studying his model, decided on doing something similar.

The Civil Service Academy was established as a venture to support initiatives like Chitrasalabham, he says.

Besides this, Jobin also runs a YouTube channel, which is open to all where he posts various important aspects of cracking the exam. “Everyone understands how important it is for aspirants to stay updated with general studies, and reading the newspaper is an important aspect of that,” he says.

Each day, Jobin spends close to one hour taking aspirants through The Hindu newspaper in Malayalam. Similarly, in the Telegram channel that he runs, he circulates a free current affairs magazine in Malayalam which is open to all. “My idea is to reach as many aspirants as possible,” he says.

Why is this important?

Speaking about one of his students at the Chitrasalabham programme, Jobin says, “She is from a tribe called Cholanaikkans, and all over India, their population is at just 450. The members of this tribe, even today, live in caves. Having one student from this tribe is not just liberating but I feel a deep sense of responsibility towards helping them succeed.” Yet another student, Dr Athira, who met with an accident and was left paralysed, says that she wants to be a part of the civil service to bring about a change in the mindset of people. “I am wheelchair bound but that doesn’t stop me and I want to be an inspiration to others,” says Dr Athira.

Adding to this, Jobin says, “If Franklin Roosevelt could govern the US from a wheelchair, I don’t see why my students cannot occupy positions of power and authority. They are so good in their academics, this is but a natural step for them.” Jobin is certain that this batch of 25 students, in turn, will mentor and coach more students and the cycle that he started will continue.

To all aspirants who wish to prepare and appear for the examination in their mother tongue, Jobin says, “Do remember that one does not need Oxford English or a fancy coaching centres in Delhi. Stay focussed and put in all the hard work. That will see you through.”

To access Jobin’s YouTube channel, click here and to be a part of the Telegram channel, click here.

(Edited by Yoshita Rao)