Karuna John traces the journey of a 40 paise tomato sapling from the fields of Kolar to the mandis of Bangalore.
The 75km drive into Bangalore from the town of Kolar winds through a pretty, leafy route, even as traffic teems along unabated on Old Madras Road. Not many vehicles are heading to old Madras, but there are trucks loaded to tipping point with fresh farm produce – in this case, tomatoes packed tight in wooden crates – making their way to the restaurants and home kitchens in the city of Bangalore.
The journey had begun in one of several small nurseries on the outskirts of Kolar, where saplings of Solanum Lycopersicum (technically, that’s what you call tomatoes) are nurtured like they were pearl-laden oysters. The saplings are grown in soil plugs (clutches of soil) for about a month, before they’re sold off to farmers. Babu Reddy, the owner of one such tomato nursery, said that each sapling sells at a price of about 40 paise, and that they’re sold in trays of 96 saplings. “Farmers buy them from us in tray loads,” said Reddy.
The saplings then get transplanted into fields, and grow alongside crops of cabbage, cauliflower, and potatoes. S Hussain, a farmer who buys these saplings, explained that the process saves him a month’s delay. “When we sow the seeds, the plants take four months to reach full maturity. Saplings bear fruits in three months, and are ready for harvest for August-September, which is the peak season, fetching the highest price,” said Hussain, who takes his harvest on every third day to the auctions hosted by the Agriculture Produce Marketing Committee (APMC).
Back on the farms, added hands get hired on harvest days, and much time is spent feeling one’s way through the gangly waist-high plants. Each stalk is tied to a wooden frame to keep it off the ground and to prevent rot, explained Hussain, and the hunt for the red globes peeping through clusters of the green ones lasts all day. The wooden crates get filled up in a slow, but steady stream.
Another farmer, K Srinivas, who grows the fruit in a one-acre section of his farm, said he picked the fruit one day away from ripening, as they get sent to the auction the next day. He packs around 140 crates per harvest, with around 15kgs of tomatoes in each crate, he said.
At the APMC yard, the mood changes significantly, as the crates get stacked and yellow slips of paper with the farmers’ names are the only way to tell the mountains of red oversized marbles apart. This is also the roughest the tomatoes get handled, as crates are upturned at the government-appointed auctioneer’s command, and the fruits get tossed around like cricket balls. The farmers bring the produce to the market by 6am and await their turn, while the process of bidding begins at 10am, with a call of a base price (Rs 40 a crate, from March). “The price varies every day, and the highest was Rs 400 (per crate) in August,” recalled M Munnegowda, a farmer from Devanahalli, who travels to the Kolar auction just for the better price. At this auction, Munnegowda brought along 900 crates, and sold his Abhinava variety of tomatoes at Rs 40 a crate.
While “tomato season” ends in July, the tomatoes continue to grow in various stages of ripening on the branch for about a month after, said the farmer. Organised chaos ensues at the auction, as the bids fly, led by discreet signals from vegetable commission agents scattered in the yard. The APMC gets one per cent of each successful bid.
Two hour’s drive from the fields of Kolar, a good 10 degrees Centigrade warmer from the outskirts’ climes, Hussain’s tomatoes finally make their way to the buzz of the city’s Krishna Raja Market, and land at stall number B-365, owned by Mohamed Anwar. What was a 40 paise sapling will now fetch Rs 4 for a kilo, “but you have to buy three kilos, at least”, cautions Anwar, who buys the lot from his agent every day.
Anwar’s preferred tomato is what he calls the “pani puri” version, and he throws in a “top tomato tip”: “The red ripe fleshy ones go into fancy salads, the humble masala puri and sandwiches,” he said. The tomatoes also make great garnishes (as in, tomato flowers resting beside your Chinese dish), as they’re fleshy and plump. “Abhinava and nati varieties, may not be pretty to look at but they are full of flavour and juice, and best for making gravies and curries,” added Anwar. What about the rotten ones? “They go into the industrially produced ketchup and sauces.”
Source : Time Out Bengaluru ISSUE 1 Friday, July 23, 2010
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