Farmhand R Anandi flicks a brown turmeric tuber into a basket at her feet. She takes less than a second to figure out that it is of superior quality. “It has to look plump and shiny,” she tells us, as her basket nearly overflows. Seated by a hillock of turmeric harvested a few days ago, she works with mechanical precision, separating the good and the not-so-good tubers. P Palanichami, her colleague, lifts the basket and flips its contents into a waiting tractor. The tubers are precious — they are the seeds for next year’s crop. “We need to pick the finest to be sown,” explains farmer N Thamburaj, whose uncle owns the two-and-a-half-acre land in Pulla Gounden Pudur near Thondamuthur taluk in Coimbatore.
A 90s Tamil film song plays on a radio placed under a tree on the fringes of the farm. The afternoon sun burns the brown patch of earth, the people on it, and the over 15 tonnes of turmeric spread out over it. In less than four weeks, they will be polished, and will trundle in a truck to Erode, where they will be stored at a godown before being auctioned at the 70-year-old turmeric market run by the Erode Manjal Vanigargal Matrum Kidangu Urimaiyalargal Sangam.
The distinctive thin turmeric from Erode district, Annur and Thondamuthur taluks of Coimbatore district and Kangayam taluk of Tirupur district, was awarded the Geographical Indication (GI) tag last month. “This recognition helps to better market our turmeric,” says M Sathyamurthi, the secretary of the Sangam. “People will now specifically ask for ‘Erode turmeric’ rather than club it under a common classification. Our variety is traditional, and comparing it with hybrid ones is like comparing broiler and country chicken,” he adds.
Sathyamurthi is thrilled that he is getting enquiries from around the globe for their turmeric. “It’s an encouragement to traditional growers of the crop,” he feels. Farmers from the surrounding districts, such as Coimbatore, Tirupur, Karur, and Salem, bring their crop to be sold at the market that the Sangam runs. “Some bring 10 sacks, while there are those who bring 200; it all depends on the availability.” Sathyamurthi says that turmeric from the region has a mild yellow colour.
- India is the world’s largest producer of turmeric. Eighty per cent of the world’s turmeric comes from our country.
- Turmeric is an annual crop. Harvesting is done in March and sowing is done in June. The crop is labour-intensive — everything, right from sowing to harvesting, boiling, and drying, is done by hand.
- At the Erode Manjal Vanigargal Matrum Kidangu Urimaiyalargal Sangam, auctions take place from 9 am onwards on weekdays. Around 100 farmers from Erode and its surrounding regions bring their crop, that is auctioned through a computerised process.
- The market has four types: Salem, Mini Salem, and Berhampur, apart from the traditional Erode turmeric, that has a mild yellow colour, and is shorter compared to the others.
- The spice, used in powder form, is added in small quantities to most Indian dishes, and is believed to have cancer-fighting properties.
However, back at Thondamuthur, there’s not a speck of sunshine-yellow. “The turmeric, once harvested, will be boiled with water, castor oil, and cow dung,” explains Thamburaj. “The latter ingredients enhance the colour.” He shows us long, rectangular tin containers that will be lowered into a pit dug nearby, that functions as a wood-fired stove. “Once boiled, they will be spread out in the sun and put to dry for 10 to 20 days.”
The dried turmeric will be less than half the width of its fresh version. “The polishing happens right here; we rent a machine to do it,” explains Thamburaj. “Most of us in this region grow the hybrid Salem variety, although we did grow the traditional kind in the past.” Thamburaj says that for every 500 acres in Thondamuthur block, around five grow Erode turmeric. Some 25 years ago, turmeric farmers in the region harvested a whopping 20 tonnes an acre. Today, though, they are happy to get at least five tonnes. The 45-year-old sighs in response to our shock. “Back then, farmers were patient. They sometimes took six months to prepare the land with natural manure like cow dung, tilling it with bullocks. Today though, everything is mechanised. We want instant returns and turned to chemicals to do the bulk of our work. The land suffered and so did we.”
We walk towards the drying tubers, cursing our luck — the polished, yellow ones have all been sent to Erode. They are brown, their skin dry and patchy. Before turning back, I casually pick one and break it. It is soft, and gives way like boiled potato. There, we see it. The yellow colour stands out against the brown background — like sunshine.