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By Richard Mahapatra The people of Orissa have given a clear verdict: from the number of seasons to the mating habits of birds, they say everything has changed as a result of climate change
Every time I jog my memory I come up with a distorted picture of my home state Orissa. When I try to compare my childhood memories with the present climate patterns in Orissa, I realise that things have changed completely. And most Oriyas will agree with me. Till about 15 years ago, the winters here would make a precise entry on Dussehra day, which usually falls in the second week of October. Around a week before Dussehra, my mother would take the warm clothes out of an old trunk. “Now it is late-November that we get a bit of the cold. Only a few days in December are cold enough to wear warm clothes,” says my mother. My mother is 78 years old. Her memories of Orissa’s climate are alien to the generation I belong to. For her, that Orissa has already died; for me, my childhood Orissa is dying. The state now has a new and strange climate that nobody can understand or predict. People like my mother remember six distinct seasons -- grishma (summer), barsa (rains), sarata (autumn), hemanta (dew), sisira (winter) and basanta (spring). She has precise dates for the arrival of the six seasons in our hometown Sonepur. And she taught me how to look for signs of each of the six seasons. If our peepal tree started flowering, summer had already set in; when the bats began coming to the peepal tree at night, winter was at its peak; when damselflies flew around our house it was time for the monsoon. As for me, I recall only four seasons: summer, autumn, winter and spring. Nowhere today will you find mention of six seasons in Orissa, except maybe in school textbooks. “While teaching children about the seasons, the textbook description of six seasons reads like something from the long-forgotten past,” says Ramesh Mishra, a secondary school teacher in Dhama, a small town in Sambalpur district. When I return home now, my mother mourns the death of the seasons. She explains that growing up without any source of entertainment, like television or cinema, festivals related to the specific seasons were times to rejoice. And so she began noticing small things in the world around her that indicated the arrival of each season. Today, there are no such signs. Orissa has only two seasons: the rains and summer, with winter being a mild transition between the two. Orissa’s climate has changed so dramatically and quickly over the years that many people believe the state is under a supernatural curse. In February, the state government goes into ‘emergency mode’ to fight the heat conditions. All schools and colleges switch to early morning shifts. Food-for-work programmes run during early mornings and late evenings. Hospitals across the state stock huge sheets of ice. Public transport operates during early mornings and late nights. People avoid the auspicious March-May period for getting married -- it’s simply too hot. During the hot summer months, people’s desperation for the monsoon begins to build. But the monsoon plays hide and seek with the state. It doesn’t rain much when required. It rains during September and October, causing crop losses and floods. Over the last decade, most of the big floods occurred during September and October. “The total rainfall may be around the average figure, but the monsoon has become erratic,” says Biswamber Naik, an agriculture extension officer in Bolangir district. Scanty rainfall during the crucial months of June and July has triggered massive conflicts: for the past five years various police stations across the state have recorded close to 34,000 cases pertaining to conflicts over water. Of these, 50% occur between June and August. A public perception study done by the Sambalpur-based Manav Adhikar Sewa Sanstha (MASS), an NGO working with local communities in the field of drought-mitigation, shows clearly how much Orissa’s climate has changed. The study found that three seasons out of the traditional six have already vanished. While the monsoon and summer are still distinct seasons, the average number of hot days is unprecedented. People say summer-like conditions now prevail for close to eight months in a year. Seasons cut short Previous status | Present status | Season | Number of
months | Number of days
(approximately) | Grishma(summer) | 2 months | 250 | Barsha(rainy) | 2 months | 30 | Sarata(autumn) | 2 months | 5-10 | Hemanta(dew) | 2 months | 5-10 | Sisira(winter) | 2 months | 30 | Basanta(spring) | 2 months | 5-10 | |
Dark clouds hover over Orissa but vanish almost immediately. For farmers who use traditional weather forecasting (panjika) methods, the change in climate is perceptible. Haldar Nag, a nature poet who has written extensively on the various seasons, says: “The peacock dances in anticipation of rain, but soon, to its surprise, the clouds fade away. And the beautiful creature feels ashamed.” For ages, farmers have monitored the peacock’s rain dance to begin ploughing. “I think nature is finally paying us for our sins,” says Nag. Tikeswar Tripathy of Satibhata village in Sambalpur district is worried. According to him, the Oriya Panjika (a traditional weather book) used to be more accurate than the government’s weather predictions. “The Panjika never failed us. But God knows what has happened -- for more than a decade the Panjika has been unable to predict the weather perfectly.” The people of Orissa have always relied on ancient knowledge systems to predict the weather and plan their agriculture and other activities. Traditional weather forecasting methods have been preserved in strong oral proverbs, which, for generations, farmers considered essential knowledge for their farming. Below is an example of a proverb from western Orissa: Shrabana masara adya chouthi.
Chari digu jebe megha na uthi.
Dakhina digaru bahile baa.
Chasi bhai hala nangala dhari bidesh ja. (At the dawn of the rainy season, if clouds do not form from each of the four directions, and if the wind is from the south then the farmers must pack up and migrate in search of bread and butter.) Likewise, there are several indicators to predict the rains: Dahuk gagale barsa hesi.
Dhamna gachke chadhle barsa hesi.
Chanti anda buhile barsa hesi. (When the bronze-winged jacana bird calls (a short harsh grunt), when the hybrid cobra or local snake climbs a tree, and when red ants start transporting eggs, rain comes.) People used the behaviour of animals and birds to get a sense of what the weather would be like for three to five months. “But most of these birds have changed character. This has made weather forecasting difficult,” says Nag. In many villages of western Orissa, birds like the cattle egret, little egret, openbilled stork and others are referred to as ‘wisdom birds’ or ‘knowledge birds’. These birds helped people forecast the weather. Now, says Nag, these ‘symbols of knowledge’ are themselves confused. Many popular and common birds and animals, like the parrot (rose-ringed parakeet), black drongo, Indian mynah, Indian house crow, red-wattled lapwing, ring dove and bats have changed their mating and seasonal behaviour. People believe these changes are due to changes in the seasons; the birds have begun to adapt to the new climate conditions. Damselflies used to be the most dependable indicators of the monsoon. Just before the rains lashed the countryside, the sky would be covered with damselflies. When the farmers saw them arrive, they would get their agricultural implements ready for ploughing. Now there are no such swarms to indicate rain. Instead, sometimes, you see swarms of damselflies in the sky during late-October, early-November. “Bio-indicators are the first symptoms of climate change. There are scientific reasons for these changes. Increases in temperature will definitely change a creature’s behaviour,” says G K Pujari, a scientist with Orissa’s environment department. Observed changes in bird behaviour due to climate change Name of Bird | Normal Behaviour | Changed behaviour | Reasons/ explanations attributed by people for the change | Haladi basanta (black- headed oriole) | Should be seen near human habitation just before spring. It calls to welcome spring and then flies away into the nearby forests | People hear the bird calling even during the rains | Spring is no longer a distinct season | Kuili(koel) | Should be silent during winter. Its mating call should be heard till late evening. People say that with the advent of the rains, when the frogs start croaking, the koel flies away into the forest | Now, its call can be heard in winter too. It is heard up to midnight. In the rainy season, it can be seen around human habitation | Winters have become shorter. The temperature around midnight now is the same as the temperature used to be around late evening, in the early years. There are fewer rainy days | Ghulikank (openbilled stork) | It must come to a village and alight either on a tamarind tree or some other dense tree on Akshya Trutiya(in May) to nest. People say if you forget the date of Akshya Trutiya (when agricultural activities start), this bird reminds you as it never fails to arrive exactly on that date | Now, the arrival of this bird is no longer definite. The timing of its mating and nesting behaviour has also changed | With changes in the bird’s behaviour, one can no longer accurately predict the climate/weather | Dahuk (bronze-winged jacana) | It should lay its eggs during the monsoon, and its mating call signals the arrival of the rains | This has changed; the bird’s nesting behaviour has completely altered | Excessive heat, even during the rainy season, and unpredictable cloud cover, have confused the bird. It can no longer predict the seasons | Bhartia (Indian small skylark) | If it lays its eggs in an agricultural field, people predict a drought that year. If it nests on infertile land (aant or guda), good rainfall is predicted. If it lays its eggs on fertile land (bahal), the rains will be late | This behaviour has altered completely. Therefore, no specific predictions are now possible from the bird | Same reasons as above | “Everything was fine until 1985-86,” says Krushna Chandra Pati of Ghanapali, a village on the outskirts of Sambalpur. “What has happened since then I cannot say exactly, but the temperature is increasing year after year.” An Oriya farmer believes there should be at least 120 rainy days in a year. A popular proverb says: Aatha dumukani sohala asara.
Batisa jhipi jhipi chousathi kundajhara.
Tebe jaai chasi bhai peta hue pura. (Eight heavy falls and 16 continuous downpours, 32 visible drizzles and 64 light drizzles, help the farmer feed with satisfaction.) It’s obvious this number has dropped drastically. “Traditional knowledge about the weather is an indication of past weather patterns. If you compare the current situation with this knowledge, you can surely point to a deviation in the weather pattern,” says A B Mishra, a former life sciences professor with Sambalpur University who has studied traditional weather forecasting. Going by people’s perceptions, it rains for close on 50 days, in varying degrees, during the monsoon season. In many places in western Orissa, sugarcane used to be cultivated as it was a lucrative crop and a major source of income for farmers. Now, due to inadequate rainfall, sugarcane farming has not been taken up for at least 12 years. Although there’s still an ongoing debate as to whether Orissa’s climate has really changed all that much, the people’s perception that their climate is indeed changing should not be ignored. “I give high credibility to people’s perceptions, because these are the first signs of the impact of climate change,” says Kalipada Chatterjee, advisor on climate change at Winrock International, Delhi. (Richard Mahapatra has been awarded this year’s CCDS-InfoChangeIndia Research Fellowship for reportage on issues related to sustainable development and social justice. His research is on the impact of climate change in Orissa. Mahapatra has been reporting on environment and development issues for several years. He has written extensively for journals such as Down to Earth.) InfoChange News & Features, April 2006
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