The Crows of Karnataka

// The Crows of Karnataka //

PC: J. Rodriguez, M. Greene

I’ve seen an empire

Taste the tempest of a gathering strong

   But I found love at the end of the world

                                                          
--John Mark McMillan

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    The birds don’t sing in Karnataka. There are no songs. Empty of melody, the air is full of chirps and coos, wails and shrill sirens—the birds speaking over the city. Conversations had in the treetops. Stories weaved through generations. Rumors spreading in the air. Secrets shared with the wind.

     Most distinct of the birds are the crows. Incredibly numerous, the crows track the movements of the people—their villages, their cities, their state. They constantly watch, constantly collect knowledge, until they find themselves waiting on the other side of every decision and motion. They group themselves closely with no fear of walking the ground, always just out of reach of the annoyed drunkard or curious child. 

     

     The crows remember the mighty reign of the Moghuls and the brutish hand of the British. The Mysore kingdom and the fall of Tipo Sultan. Gandhi’s glory and the pain of Partition. They discuss Modi and the legislature, the Congressional Party and the future of democracy. And into cities and villages they swoop, learning and telling the days’ events:  a young woman in Ramanagara accepted to a UK college; a new construction project for power lines in Makali Hoshalli; the flat tire in the back of an old man’s rickshaw in Goa; the breakthrough investor for a tech startup in Bangalore. There is no surprising the crow. Always watching, always tracking the motions of men, often to their last breaths. Hence they become symbols of death by their knowledge. And in recent years, the crows of Karnataka frequently find themselves waiting in the fields of farmers.  

PC: V. Reyes

    An epidemic of farmer suicides has erupted since the 2015-2016 season, turning the heads of the government and media. Some blame unfaithful monsoon rains regularly breaking the committed hearts of farmers. Others blame the unpredictable prices of crops, noting rises in suicides even when rains are metrically “sufficient”. But the crows know, whether it’s the rain or the crop prices, there is only so much frustration, so much shame a farmer can face, season after season, before he loses hope.Year after year the crops fail. Year after year the sweat and toil are shamed as pointless by nature’s cruel hand.

     

     The suicides of farmers raise greater questions than what to do about erratic weather patterns. A recession calls attention to economy and a bankruptcy calls attention to finance. A famine calls attention to agriculture and a drought calls attention to water management. But a suicide ought to call everything to a halt. Hundreds of suicides ought to usher us into silence. Into an air empty of songs and melodies, where we force ourselves to consider things in deeper places than we are usually willing to dwell...

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There is a question in International Development old as the field itself: 

What does Development mean? 

Or, in other words:

What is our goal?

Where are we going? 

PC: V. Reyes

     Scholars, politicians, economists and philosophers alike have tried their hand to define the aim of nations, the goal of efforts and billions spent on water, health, education, government institutions and the like across the globe. Answers were once wealth-centric: GDP, level of industrialization, currency value. Through the decades pushback has drawn out more nuanced understandings of what civilizations’ aims: democratic forms of governance, independence, or expansion of capabilities. But standing on the edge of a ragi field in Ramanagara, with the brooding figure a crow flying overhead, speaking with the sullen figure of a farmer facing his third season of zero crop yield, the shadow flying over taunts and reminds us the crux of what really matters: hope.

     Hope is defined in several ways. Contemporarily, hope is to look forward with positive expectation. Archaically, hope is a present trust. Biblically, hope is a necessary component of faith.

     International Development, in all its forms, institutions and metrics, is a grand industry to preserve hope. As globalization increases, as income gaps widen locally and globally, as the world gets smaller and more crowded, as brick and mortar replace green fields and forests, and our very environment seems unable to accommodate humanity’s ambition, life for the individual gets chaotic and complicated. Maintaining a sense of identity, of self-worth and purpose become increasingly daunting tasks. Yet if we cannot achieve these, not only can we not achieve any else, nothing else is worth accomplishment. International Development ought to revive the humanity of a globalizing world. Reach back to those who are falling behind, tug on the backs of those running ahead, and keep us truly together. Because we are better together.

     Whether it’s funding a school system, training medical professionals, or supporting new methods of water retention for village farmers, the success of a project always entails something greater than good-looking numbers. There are smiles, laughter, excitement, and assurance. They require trust, commitment, and determination. These projects remind beneficiaries and Development professionals alike of life’s possibilities, wonder, and, most importantly, hope.

     So often the Development industry is criticized for failing to see the bigger picture. Establishing an institution but failing to see a larger need. Running an awareness campaign but speaking past a different culture. Implementing a great project but forgetting to find available resources to sustain it. And more recently the great hoopla has been raised over meeting metrics and proving success with the right numbers. Yet none of these things will lead us to understanding the whole of the situations we enter into. And none of them will can guarantee to accurately measure success. But by asking questions to point us in the right direction, we can safeguard our efforts and those we make them for.

Are we inspiring hope?

Are we serving others by fighting with them to see beauty in life?

Are we hopeful ourselves?

These are the questions we ought to ask.

These are the questions we need to answer.

PC: J. Rodriguez

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