The sun is setting over Ponnasamudra, a village of open plains and rocky hills in Karnataka's Tumakuru district. It appears unusually close and perfectly rounded. But Eranna isn’t looking.
The 48-year-old farmer instead points to a lone deer moving along the far edge of his neatly lined chilli fields. Deer movement in the area has increased over the past three years, and roughly 30% of his crop would end up as deer dinner. He tried iron and stone fencing, but the animals quickly learnt to leap over them or even knock them down. Patrolling the fields with a torch and imitating predator calls — could he do that all night? But today, he heads home with far less worry, thanks to ‘Parabraksh’, an agritech solution from Bengaluru.
It is deceptively simple and especially relevant in an age of growing human-animal conflict. It keeps both the crop and its wild visitors safe. In contrast, rigged jhatka machines (electric fencing systems) have reportedly killed many animals.
Parabraksh is a predator deterrent light system developed by Katidhan, a startup founded by S R Ayan. The squarish device is fitted with LED lights on all four sides. It switches on automatically in pitch darkness and flashes white light in varying patterns for at least 150 metres. To animals, the light resembles the glowing eyes of a predator on the prowl or the beam of a torch held by a human — “threats" that make them back off from the farm, Ayan explains.
The 35-year-old has no background in wildlife studies or farming. He thrives on challenges and proved it in his first job by building the market for robotic floor cleaners in India. This time, the mechanical engineer with a "product design mindset" decided to iterate on existing models that mimicked predator eyes.
Test and results
A call for help from a friend in Ladakh sparked off his journey in 2017. Farmers were killing snow leopards that attacked their livestock. Both the vulnerable cats and the farmers’ livelihoods needed protection.
The first low-budget prototype of Parabraksh failed: its batteries and solar panels couldn’t withstand the freezing mountain cold. And for the second iteration to show results, they had to wait two full seasons.
“The farmers reported that the footprints of snow leopards were farther from their livestock than before, a sign they were retreating,” Ayan recalls. With proof of concept now in hand, Ayan invested Rs 10 lakh from his savings to “start up”.
Today, around 3,000 units are in use across India, including Karnataka, Maharashtra, Jharkhand, Chhattisgarh and Ladakh. The customers include both individual farmers and Forest Departments. The use cases have also diversified. In and around Bengaluru, the device is keeping wildlife at bay at farmhouses, resorts, and even a senior care home. The venture has since secured a Rs 1.5 crore commitment on Shark Tank India, won Karnataka’s Elevate 2023 grant, and is now part of the Union government’s agriculture subsidy programme.
A nine-month study by the University of Agricultural Sciences, Bangalore, is evidence of its appeal. The university found it to be 75-80% effective against deer and wild boar across different stages of the crop cycle. The test was conducted in ragi, groundnut, and maize fields across five locations in Karnataka. Though elephant deterrence was also part of the study’s goals, Mohan Naik, head of the vertebrate pest management department, says that longer testing is needed to reach definitive conclusions. Meanwhile, Ashok Hainari, from Sesapani village in Assam, has observed a 60% drop in crop loss from elephant raids on his rice and betel nut fields.
Setting the context, Naik notes that in farmland adjacent to forests, wildlife can cause over 50% crop damage. “The yield loss depends on which animals are in the forest, and how much food they find in there,” he adds.
Capital conundrum
Parabraksh works. The business is bootstrapped but profitable. They receive 10-20 enquiries a day and there is export interest from Southeast Asia and Africa. Yet Ayan can't celebrate. His five-member team cannot meet even 1% of demand. They are strapped for capital and staff.
Most of his customers can’t pay the full price — Rs 10,000 a unit. “Small or marginal farmers in northern India, cultivating one or two acres, can only spare Rs 500-Rs 1,000. Farmers in Karnataka are slightly better off and shell out up to Rs 3,000,” he says. Trust is another hurdle. “Indian farmers tend to rely on government-endorsed products, which are heavily subsidised,” he adds.
Even the best ideas hit a wall with investors. He has met 50 investors and emailed 120 more. Only five have shown interest, and even that is conditional. “They will invest only after revenue reaches a certain stage. In India, that benchmark is Rs 5 crore. But how do I get there without capital?” he asks, highlighting the trap that snuffs out most agritech hardware startups.
More than a year after his product shot into the national spotlight, the Shark Tank funds still haven’t arrived. He must bring in another investor to avail of the offer. Yet the reality show also pulled him out of his lowest phase of self-doubt.
“I had let go of jobs with annual packages equal to my startup’s yearly revenue. My parents are still unhappy,” he says. But after the episode aired in March 2024, enquiries poured in well into the wee hours — from farmers keeping vigil over their crops to IT employees from agricultural families, and wildlife and development organisations. “It validated how much there was a need for such a product,” he recalls.
Ayan hasn’t looked back since. To address affordability concerns, his startup is rolling out Parabraksh with a spectrum of price points and different capabilities. They are also in talks with the governments of Karnataka and Kerala to supply camera traps to farmers at subsidised rates to help them claim compensation for wildlife damage.
Saving lives
Ayan draws “motivation” from the farmers’ stories. Hearing ‘itna bachat ho gaya' (we saved this much money) is the highest reward. “We help farmers save Rs 70,000 to Rs 1.3 lakh per hectare each season,” he says. Installing electric fencing would cost Rs 2 lakh per hectare, whereas four units of their device can secure the same land for Rs 40,000.
The team is often stunned by how deeply the device touches lives. A woman farmer from Maharashtra says she and her husband no longer risk their lives guarding crops at night. A wealthy farmer in Karnataka once made a frantic service call: “Sir, you have to fix the device! When it stops, leopards return. They threaten my livestock and cash crops.” At the other extreme is a farmer in Tamil Nadu who refuses to allow his unit to be repaired. His fear: taking it out of 'sight' for even a day would bring the elephants trudging back. The device runs on solar power and a built-in battery, but he has learned to live with a glitchy solar panel. He charges the device with a mobile phone charger instead.
For Eranna and Gopalappa, another of Ayan’s Ponnasamudra clients, crops saved means money earned, which they are now putting toward their children’s education.
Night has fully fallen, and crickets are in full chorus. As I get ready to leave, I see Eranna bargaining hard with Ayan for another unit of Parabraksh.