I asked myself this question once.
Back then, I wasn’t part of a movement. I wasn’t
dreaming of communities or revolutions. I was a man with a thought—simple,
quiet, persistent.
"I didn’t
start out thinking of Agathiee as a community," I shared one day.
“It began as a simple desire to do something
meaningful—social and political activities that mattered.”
It wasn’t a grand vision. It was just... right.
And then, I met someone with the same fire—Bharati
Kannan. One became two. Two became many.
“More people
with the same thoughts joined us. We found a space to do seed ball-making and
other natural farming activities.”
That space turned sacred. A patch of earth where hands
dug soil and hearts sowed hope.
And then came a name.
“We named it
‘Agathiee’ because it's the first plant in an organic garden. It gives nitrogen
to the soil, and it was attractive to us.”
Agathiee. A name as grounded as the soil it stood for. Growth. Nourishment. A beginning.
But what’s a community without its moments of struggle
?
“The most memorable moment was when we all came
together and protested against GMO seeds.”
That wasn’t just a protest. It was a heartbeat.
People from different worlds—organic farmers and
political voices—stood shoulder to shoulder.
“What I liked
the most was that in this one community, both organic farming and political
activism happened together. Usually, people interested in farming aren’t into
politics—but here, it worked.”
Agathiee blurred those boundaries. It didn’t just grow
plants—it grew people.
And I was one of them.
“Before this, I
was a banker in Kotak Mahindra. Now I run a farm.”
“I understood that money is just a criteria—not the
most important thing. If we keep chasing it, we lose our life.”
I didn’t just leave a job. I left behind a definition
of success.
In Agathiee, I found a mirror and a compass.
And what about role models? Funny thing, really.
“Everyone has good and bad qualities. I take the good
from each person—there’s no single role model.”
That’s the thing about communities. They don’t raise
leaders—they raise each other.
One day, we did something unforgettable.
“We regenerated
the Puthangal Lake. That was a beautiful moment for all of us.”
It flowed like our spirit—once hidden, now alive.
But Agathiee wasn’t my first seed of service.
“In 2009, I
started the Aran Foundation to help students after 12th to join college and
study well.”
Long before rivers, before soil, before slogans—there
was a desire to help.
And if I could tell something to the next seed—the
next person waiting to sprout—it would be this:
“We are
privileged to have education and comfort. So we must help those who don’t. That
is what gives life true meaning.”
“Even if others do bad to us, doing good to them makes
life complete.”
That’s the answer.
To the question I once asked.
What begins as a seed and becomes a forest of purpose?
Agathiee.
And perhaps... you.

Comments
Post a Comment