Komera Anka Rao will never have a scarecrow on his one-acre farm at Karempudi village in Palnadu, Andhra Pradesh. The sole reason he grows crops on his only piece of farm land is to feed birds. Jaji, as he is locally known, grows pearl millet and sorghum as they require less water and labour. The farm hosts a variety of birds, including Indian parrots, baya weavers, pigeons, mynas and the Indian Pitta.
Though he loses Rs25,000 a year on the farm, Jaji does not mind. He cares for the birds and the Nallamala forest too much. His land is on the periphery of the vast forest, an important green cover in the Eastern Ghats in Telangana and Andhra Pradesh. It has the largest tiger reserve in the country and is spread over 9,000sqkm.
For Jaji, Nallamala is a retreat and an obsession. His daily schedule is harmoniously linked to the forest. At 5am, he sets off on his gearless bike with empty sacks tucked into the storage space. After going deep into the thick forest, sometimes as deep as 30km, Jaji starts his hours-long hunting expedition. His prey is not animals, but things left behind by revellers and tourists—plastic glasses, paper plates, beer bottles, polythene covers and any other trash that does not belong in a forest. He stuffs all he gets into the sacks and takes it to a dumping ground far from the forest. He says he has cleared three truckloads worth of garbage so far.
“Several community events are held in the forests where families have lunch in the open,” says Jaji. “There are also youth who want to experience the thrill of a forest picnic. There is a constant flow of tourists who eat or drink and dump the waste. Who will clear this waste that affects animals and plants? I feel responsible for this forest. It gives us oxygen and keeps us alive.”
The 40-year-old has been on this mission for more than two decades. His tryst with the forest began when he was barely 15. A sickly child with little money at home, he had dropped out of school after class 10. One day, the curious boy ventured into the forest a few kilometres from his Karempudi home. His trips became more frequent and, over time, Jaji struck an unusual friendship with the birds in the jungle and began bringing them food from home. They reciprocated with sounds and movements, he says.
On one such trip, he saw something that broke his heart. “A sparrow lay dead. It was not shot at, so that ruled out hunting. Some distance away, I saw broken beer bottles with a mix of alcohol and water in them. The leftover food looked contaminated. I was sure the bird died after eating the food. I had seen birds feeding on the waste, but I never knew it could kill them.”
At that moment, Jaji vowed that he would clear all the trash that could hurt his feathered friends. Now, whenever he bumps into tourists dumping waste, he tells them the importance of forests and how their irresponsible act could lead to an imbalance in nature. “I have only come across people who appreciated me and promised to not repeat the act,” he says. “Nobody reacted aggressively.”
Jaji is a strong believer in the power of nature—he feels that the forest has healed and protected him on numerous occasions. The doctors had told his parents that their child was unhealthy and that he was unlikely to lead a normal life. When he was in school, his face and body would swell up with little physical strain. As a middle-aged man, Jaji feels stronger than ever and credits the forest for completely curing him.
“Once, I heard birds making frantic noises as if to warn me,” he says. “I turned around to see a venomous snake heading towards me. I jumped from its path and that saved my life. In another instance, I felt uneasy while walking in the forest. My legs gave up and my stomach was hurting. I could not take it any longer and came back home. Within hours, the weather in the forest had turned rough. There was heavy rain. I have been going to the forest for so many years and not once was I harmed. I believe that if we take care of nature, it will take care of us.”
For Jaji, the forest is a confidant. He has broken down under the shade of a thick tree or on a hillock several times. With a wife, two children and parents to take care of, Jaji is torn between his ideals and his responsibilities. His work is voluntary and hardly fetches any stable income. The only money he gets is from some villagers who come to him for medical advice and the occasional ayurvedic company that consults him on rare plants.
“I stopped going to village fairs during festivals as my shirts are old or torn,” he says. “Once I did not have 010 in my pocket to go to another town to take an award for my work. If my children fall sick, I do not think I can find enough money for their treatment. I might be an inspiration for many people in this world, but my parents shed tears when they talk about me. They feel I ruined my life. They are right in their own way, but I love nature and cannot afford to deviate from my path.”
Jaji’s duty does not stop with just picking up garbage. For years now, he has been planting seeds in the forest. He used to have a YouTube channel, on which he talked about the plants and medicinal herbs he found. It has almost a lakh subscribers.
He visits schools, with a programme called ‘Prakriti’, and teaches students about the forest, how to identify important plants, and how animals contribute to the forest’s well-being. He claims to have visited 5,000 private and government schools in the past 20 years.
Jaji wants to grow his tribe so that his work can be continued. He is confident that he can start a chain movement that will safeguard the forest to which he has dedicated his life. “When in the forest, I am happier than any crorepati,” he says. “What is life without nature?”