For us, the 3Rs were set by default

“Reduce, reuse and recycle.” I heard my little granddaughter repeatedly muttering the slogan. Perhaps, it was her school’s attempt at inculcating environmental awareness among children. The three Rs brought back memories of my village, Sojat Road, in Rajasthan in the early 60’s, enlivening me. The 3R’s were not something to talk about back then because everyone in our village, by default, was living by it. Mahatma Gandhi’s words, ‘Live simply so that others may simply live’ perfectly defined the lifestyle in our village, as un many other villages of India.

The entire economy of our village revolved around agriculture. Bullock carts were the predominant mode of transport. Farmers, exceptionally naïve and unassuming, were grounded in nature and wore attires of plain khadi. An oversized wrap-around safa, a turban, that all men wore shielded their heads from the harsh sun. The safa also doubled as a pillow during their afternoon naps.

Many homes raised and reared hundreds of Desi cows, and the milk was more than enough to meet the local needs. Dried cow-dung cakes, and scrapped saw-mill and coal dust were used at homes to fire the kitchen chulhas and angitthis.

The lush Neem trees dotting the entire landscape of the village were revered and we enjoyed their distinct air-purifying aroma; their raw twigs served as our toothbrush, all natural and a hundred percent bio-degradable. Allopathic medicines, referred to as angrezi, were considered an elite indulgence. As for us, we swore by a popular adage, ‘breathing in the pure breeze at dawn keeps hundreds of medicines down’. At the first symptom of an ailment, people instinctively reached for a home remedy.

Plastic articles were rare if not absent. Carrying our own cloth-bags every time we went out shopping was the norm. The oil for cooking, free of chemicals, was produced locally in a ghaani, a bullock-driven oil extractor. Housewives would often take turns helping one another in making many a ‘processed food’, delicacies and consumables that could be stored to be enjoyed year-round. Everyday, fresh flour, atta, was made at homes with a manual stone grinder called ghatti. Every home stored water in earthen matkas to keep it naturally cool and refreshing. Everything was available fresh and locally.

The plain-vanilla postcard connected us to the outside world. Clothes were rarely discarded as worn-out ones were used and reused in different ways. All empty pages from children’s used notebooks were religiously pulled out at the end of the academic year to make new ones for use next year.

People generally were very careful and judicious in whatever they used or consumed, especially scarce resources like water and power. Mindful of how the scourge of runaway materialism and consumerism is exacerbating the climate catastrophe, our own software czar Narayan Murthy once said, “That heart is great which shows moderation in times
of plenty.”

In a way, the Indian lifestyle was naturally tuned to minimalism and reverence to nature. Conserving nature came naturally to crores of people like those in my village. Thanks to them, we were probably able to procrastinate the climate disaster. A big salute!