Studying an exotic species

There are no real pangolins in Aditi Patil’s book, Patriarchy and the Pangolin. There are metaphoric ones and plenty of blatant patriarchy. The book references a symbolic parallel between the two. The world’s most trafficked non-human mammal, harmless to men, is most threatened by man himself. Just as rigid patriarchy is a menace to society. Ergo, the book’s sardonic tagline: “A field guide to Indian men and other species.” Patil, who has worked on diverse conservation projects with WWF India and Columbia University, wrote the book as “an entertaining account of two female researchers who set off to interview farmers who grew trees alongside their crops”. The book is a rollicking narration of the six month field work project to study agroforestry practices in parts of Gujarat, conducted by a three-member team headed by the writer. One would scarcely associate a book involving the dry act of data collection and research methodology and its findings to make for entertaining reading, but Patil gives it her funny spin.

In August 2017, Patil, along with fellow ecological researchers, Manya Singh and Praful Joshi, travelled across Gujarat, encountering a wide spectrum of experiences with flora and fauna, but the most education came from their encounters with the human race, largely men. Instances of the collective patriarchal psyche abound in the book. For instance, while in Anand, they are offered “help” by the son of the sarpanch in Chikhodra village in Anand who pronounces: “I have the biggest house in Chikhodra and I will ask 10 village men to come to my house. You need not trouble yourself and venture into the village on your own.” Or in Gir, at a meeting with the “Leader of Sasan”, Anand Patel, where only the male member of the team is introduced to him. Patil labels

Patel as the local

Indian politician who is the “gratuitously conspicuous antithesis of womanhood”. Efforts to try and seek an audience with the women working in the fields in most places are met with incomprehension. When given a chance to voice their opinions, the “women seemed to have a more holistic approach to agroforestry, farms, animals and life in general.” Patil repeatedly faces the unsurprising situations of women taking a backseat in the farming process,

Aditi Patil

206pp, ~399, Hachette stringently playing restrictive traditional roles that keep them within home and hearth. Their voicelessness is what irks her the most. Because when they do speak, theirs is a more coherent, meaningful voice, she notes. Rani in Chorwad, who thinks of the first 25 years of her life as the worst ones, not being allowed to study and married off, is happy to take care of her coconut farm after the death of her husband, a drunk “manchild” who yelled at her. That first part is the story of countless women in this country. “Then she told us all about the farm, its area, the number of coconut trees on it, the buyers for her coconuts, their rates. Everything.”

The most searing commentary in the book is reserved for the government du jour and its policies, whether it is acts of hubris like the demonetisation move or the special status accorded to the sacred cow. ”Symbol of Nationalism, Mother of all Indians, Queen of Urine, Depositor of Dung, Her Highness the Holy Ur-Cow which hung around on the street, millions of clones of whom, now that a cow-protection regime was in power, wandered unworshipped on all our streets and in greater numbers than ever before.” Patil’s biggest weapon in her arsenal is humour, and she takes potshots at everyone including herself. The banter swings from the laugh-out-loud variety to sometimes going down a verbal rabbit hole. The portions penned with gentleness are either about the rare women farmers the team interacts with, or about the interesting non-human species whose paths they cross: “petite purple sunbirds”, “dashing Indian rollers”, the shy rusty spotted cat, the beautiful golden oriole amongst others. There is sweet praise for the intelligent baya weaver bird and Dr Salim Ali’s astute observations of it, and interesting trivia on trees.

Patriarchy and the Pangolin is an anecdotally-rich book that maintains a consistently caustic tone. It is a chuckle-inducing critique of men and their ways,

Sonali Mujumdar is an independent

journalist. She lives in Mumbai.