Umesh Kumar Ray

Dipanjali Singh

Editor

Shreya Katyayini

Video Editor

large_01-PXL_043509326-UKR.jpg

medium_01-PXL_043509326-UKR.jpg

small_01-PXL_043509326-UKR.jpg

thumbnail_01-PXL_043509326-UKR.jpg

01-PXL_043509326-UKR.jpg

A
striped lungi tucked between his knees, Ajay Mahato can shoot halfway up a 40
feet palm tree in just 30 seconds. 



He
does this everyday – climbs dizzying heights to the top of palm
trees and collects sap from their buds near the fronds. 



The 27-year-old toddy tapper is preparing to climb on a sunny May morning in Bihar’s Samastipur district. “Aab ta taad ke per jaisaan sakkat ho
gelaihan. Kanta bhi naya bhokaitai [These have now become as hard as a palm
tree. Even a thorn can’t pierce them anymore],” Ajay says, pointing to the
calluses on both his hands.  
 “While
climbing, the grip on the tree has to be strong. The trunk has to be clutched
with both hands and feet,” Ajay says, demonstrating how the fingers have to be
intertwined and wrapped around the trunk. This arduous work of climbing the
thin and rugged trunks of palm trees has left dark marks on his chest, hands
and ankles.



“15 saal ke rahiya tahiye se start ka deliyai
ra [I started climbing palm trees when I was 15 years old],” says the toddy tapper, who
has been doing this for 12 years now. 



A resident of Rasulpur village, Ajay belongs to
the Pasi community who have traditionally worked as toddy tappers – including
at least three generations of Ajay’s family.

“Initially,
I used to climb halfway up the tree and get down,” he recounts, adding that his
father would encourage him to learn the skill when he was young. “When I would
look down from the top of the palm tree then, I felt my heart would fail.” 
 “The
first time I climbed a palm tree, my chest, hands and feet started to bleed.
The skin in these parts gradually hardened,” says Ajay, explaining the wounds
on his muscled limbs which chafe against the trunk as he journeys up and down. 



Ajay
averages five palm trees in the morning and five in the evening, with a break
around midday to avoid the afternoon heat. He has leased 10 trees in Rasulpur
and pays the landowner Rs. 500 a year for each tree or an equivalent amount of
palm sap. 
 “Baisakh (April-June) mein ego taad se 10
bottle tadi niklaichhai. Okra baad kam hoi lagai chhai. [During Baisakh, a single
tree yields 10 bottles of sap. After this peak season, the yield starts to
decrease],” says the toddy tapper. 



The foamy sap is either processed into jaggery
or a fermented drink called taadi (toddy).
“We sell the sap to a paikar
[wholesaler] at the rate of around Rs. 10 a bottle,” Ajay says. Each bottle
contains around 750 ml of sap. During the months of Baisakh, Ajay can
earn up to Rs. 1,000 a day, but his earnings drop substantially during the next
nine months – by almost 60 to 70 per cent.

During
the off-season, Ajay manages to sell the sap to his local customers directly
from home at the rate of Rs. 20 a bottle. His wife and three children rely on the income he earns
from this work. 



Samastipur is one of the leading districts in
India that contribute to male inter-state out-migration. Preferring to stay on in Samastipur and practise toddy-tapping, Ajay goes against the trend around
him.

Before
he climbs, Ajay fixes a darbas (nylon
belt) tightly around his waist. An iron akura
(hook) hangs from the darbas,
along with a plastic jar and a hansua (sickle).
“The darbas has to be tied so
securely that even with 10 litres of sap it won’t budge,” Ajay explains. 
 He
climbs the palm tree, at least 40 feet high and as he reaches the slippery top
half of the trunk, I see him strengthen his grip with a pakasi – a leather or rexine strap which he stretches between his
feet. The previous evening, Ajay had already carved an
incision and fixed an empty labani
(earthen pot) at the bud of the tree. Twelve hours later, Ajay climbs the tree
again to transfer roughly five litres of sap collected in the labani. The lower end of this container,
he tells me later, has to be laced with insecticide to keep bees, ants and
hornets away.

Perched
precariously among the topmost fronds, Ajay makes a fresh cut on the palm bud
with a sickle. Placing the emptied labani
there, he descends. The entire exercise is carried out in 10 minutes.   
 The
sap will thicken and turn sour with time, so Ajay advises me, “taad ke taadi ko ped ke pass hi pee jana
chahiye, tab hi fayda hota hai [Toddy is best consumed near the palm tree
it is extracted from. Only then is it beneficial].” 
 Toddy
tapping is a livelihood fraught with risks – a slight imbalance and the fall
can be fatal, or cause permanent debilitation. 
 
 Ajay
was injured in March, “my hand slipped from the trunk of a palm and I fell. My
wrist was damaged”. He had to stop climbing for nearly a month after that.
Earlier this year, Ajay’s cousin, also a toddy tapper, broke bones in his waist
and legs after falling from a palm tree. 



Ajay
scales up another palm and throws down some fruits of the tree – ice apples. He
peels the tough outer skin of the fruit with a sickle and offers me a piece of
the fleshy inside. 



“Lijiye,
taza-taza phal khaiye. Shahar mein to
15 rupaye mein ek ankh milta hoga [Here, eat some fresh fruits. In cities,
this one part is sold for 15 rupees],” he says, smiling.

Ajay
has had a brief stint with city life – an unfulfilling one, he says. He had
migrated to Delhi and Surat a few years ago to work as a labourer on
construction sites. He would earn Rs. 200-250 a day, but, he says, “I didn&#39;t
feel like working there. Earnings were also less.” 
 He
is content with what he earns from tapping toddy. 
 This,
despite the fact that working with toddy involves the risk of police raids. The
<a href="https://www.indiacode.nic.in/bitstream/123456789/4694/1/8-2018.pdf">Bihar Prohibition and
Excise Act, 2016</a>, allows no one to “manufacture, bottle, distribute,
transport, collect, store, possess, purchase, sell or consume” liquor and
intoxicants – including fermented toddy. The Bihar police have not raided
Rasulpur yet, but Ajay says, “Just because the police have not come here yet
does not mean that they never will.” 



His
fear stems from the false cases many allege the police have implicated them in.
The police, he says, “might come anytime.” 



Ajay
is ready to take these risks. “Here in Rasulpur, I get to live with my family,”
he says, rubbing khaini (tobacco) on
his palm. Putting soil on the fattha (bamboo stick), Ajay sharpens his sickle on it. Readying his
tools, he makes his way towards another palm tree. This story is supported by a fellowship in memory of a trade unionist from Bihar who championed the struggles of marginalised people in the state.

All the way to the top of the toddy tree

تاڑ کے درخت پر چڑھنے والے بہار کے پاسی

జీవనం కోసం తాటిచెట్టు పైపైకి

பனை மர உச்சியில் ஏறி, கள் இறக்கும் வாழ்க்கை

ਭੁੱਖ ਹੀ ਖਿੱਚ ਲੈ ਜਾਂਦੀ ਹੈ ਖਜ਼ੂਰ ਦੀ ਟੀਸੀ ਤੱਕ

ଜୀବନର ସବୁ ରାସ୍ତା ଲମ୍ବିଯାଏ ତାଡ଼ି ଗଛ ଉପରକୁ

പനയുടെ തുഞ്ചത്തേക്ക്

ತಾಳೆ ಮರದ ತಲೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ದಿನದ ಅನ್ನಕ್ಕಾಗಿ ಹುಡುಕಾಟ

ઠેઠ તાડની ટોચ લગી

पेट सेती ताड़ रुख के चघई

समस्तीपुर के एगो पासी आउर ताड़ी संगे एक दिन

পেটের তাড়নায় তালগাছের টঙে

তালগছৰ আগত জীৱিকাৰ বাট

आजीविका की आस में ताड़ पर चढ़ते पासी

Samastipur

At present, we can only accept donations in Indian rupees by Indian citizens. All donations made to the CounterMedia Trust are eligible for exemption under Section 80G of the Income Tax Act, 1961. Here is a copy of our exemption certificate.


India is bigger than New Delhi. And people need to know more about the rest of this vast nation.


Younger, media-saturated generations are growing up knowing little about their country, but a lot about the elites of a few metros and towns. For a narrowly-owned, commercially-driven media, the dumbing down of a nation is part of standard operating procedure. The last available data of the Centre for Media Studies (CMS, Delhi) show us that reports from New Delhi account for 66 per cent of news on the front pages of major dailies. The CMS data also found that just about 0.24 per cent of front page news came out of rural India. The TV channels are not much better.PARI exists to change that.We are a non-profit organisation. We publish under creative commons, and do not charge readers a subscription fee or put-up advertisements. Nothing is behind a paywall and we are completely free-to-access by anyone. We guard our independence and receive no direct grants from governments and corporations, nor any funding that could dictate our content. So, we are dependent on volunteer labour, donations from individuals, foundations and institutions that see value in independent and free media.PARI is changing the way Indian journalism reports and documents the rural.India is more than the elite of a few metros and towns. We report on rural lives and livelihoods, languages, communities, migrants and more. We need your help to pull off this most ambitious of Indian journalistic endeavours. The scale of this effort costs money. Donate generously - and spread the word about PARI.&nbsp;

Donate FAQs


Let’s get you acquainted

Welcome to PARI

All our content is, and will forever be free to consume. If you enjoy our work, you can support us by becoming a volunteer or by donating to help fund our work.

Want to republish this article? Please write to <a href="mailto:zahra@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">zahra@ruralindiaonline.org</a> with a cc to <a href="mailto:namita@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">namita@ruralindiaonline.org</a>

IN TELUGU - Want to republish this article? Please write to <a href="mailto:zahra@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">zahra@ruralindiaonline.org</a> with a cc to <a href="mailto:namita@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">namita@ruralindiaonline.org</a>

All the way to the top of the toddy tree

In Bihar’s Samastipur district, a region with substantial out-migration, Ajay Mahato prefers to stay back. He climbs palm trees for a living – a livelihood fraught with risks

Related stories

A rain-scented walk in Sivagangai

Living on ravaged land

Biswas and the bamboos on his bike

Recycling energy, Godda style

Bhadels of Goa

Pookadai: still throbbing with morning life

Koli Kadlas

Malnourishment high among children of migrants: study

Wheels of the rural Indian West

Living Under a Red Cloud in Bellary

Vedla – earrings of the Maher community

Dreaming of water, drowning in debt

Kali: the dancer and his dreams

Farmer's diet worse than a convict's

In Yavatmal, life goes on

Suicides are about the living, not the dead

Death of a carpenter

Hoisa Shigmo!

Women farmers: weaving a life in Anantapur

Defiant in Dhinkia

Spice and all that's nice

Kerala's Green Army

The ‘jugaad’ not-a-mobile

Health as someone else's wealth

Calibrating in a Kudumbashree assembly unit