CHENNAI: In the periphery of Chennai, where the lines blur between city and small town and remnants of a long-lived village, where palm trees show up just as much as coconut trees, Oor Vaasam has put down roots. On land leased for the season in Kundrathur, Vishwa Vedha and team are working round the clock to bring to reality what sounds like a solid business plan on paper — a thriving ecosystem around palm and all its bounty that not just offers sustenance but security too. While it certainly helps to be the only one of its kind in the city, the ragtag team of palm-philes are scripting a new way of life with every step of the season.
The palm purpose
And so, the 300 palm trees lining the perimeter of Kanniah Farms (a property that houses two tiny scale factories and a small storage unit as well) have been put to work, with three panaiyeris (palm workers) scaling them in turns. The trees have been yielding on average 100 litres of pathaneer a week. Come May, there will be plenty more nungu to be had. When that season winds down, the palm fruit could possibly offer alternative work; Vishwa is still not sure if pazha (palm fruit juice) would be commercially viable. Beyond the fruit, there would be the panankizhangu to fall back on. By then, it would be time for the next season, says Vishwa, laying out the plan in place for the farm. “The idea is to create a marketplace for all palm-related products,” declares Vishwa, a financial consultant whose alter ego is that of an organic farmer.
The entire place smells of pathaneer, which in itself is somewhere between the sweetness of nungu and the earthiness of palm husk. Beyond a small heap of nungu and freezer full of pathaneer, a large aluminium pot with a brown, molten goop of pathneer-on-the-way-to-panavellam cools on veragu adupu (firewood stove). Lavanya Chitranesan, who manages everything from inventory to sales and delivery schedule, takes calls and sets up purchases. Vishwa, between work calls, reports that pathaneer sales has just about reached their break-even point.
“On average, we sell an average of 20 litres a day. On weekends, it could reach as high as 100 litres. Most of it is farm sales. People come here from even the farthest parts of the city to buy pathaneer and nungu. We supply to a few organic shops in the city too; they procure nearly 70 litres a week. Besides this, we take retail orders over the phone,” he says. Rajadurai is their sole delivery executive, venturing out into the city (for reasonable distances) on his trusted moped to fulfil orders.
“So far, we have tapped into just about 100 trees here. With more palm workers to tap from more trees, we would have more pathaneer to deliver. But, then we would need more delivery people or at least a vehicle big enough to take more stock,” he points out. While pathaneer and nungu are pretty commonly available in the rest of the city, all of it is procured from outside Chennai — from places like Villupuram, Nagapattinam and Kanniyakumari.
This allows more room for adulteration too, points out Vishwa. “You see people selling pathaneer on the roadside in such hot conditions. Real pathaneer would go bad if left out for a few hours; we put it in the freezer box soon after it is tapped. Imagine what would happen when it is left to sit in a hot can all day? It is no wonder we get it for such a cheap price out there,” he explains.
Plans aplenty
While it has taken four months of work to get to this place, expansion plans are always in the back of his mind, says Vishwa. “Now, Mark Williams (one of his workers and long time collaborators) has a licence; we are working with that. For the next season, we would have to get the Collector’s permission. Then, we will focus on processing. Right now, there is a lot of wastage and we use some of it to make panavellam but the next course of action would be to mainstream this step. That would require more investment and some machinery,” he explains. But with a couple of years of success at this spot, Vishwa dreams of setting up similar ventures in other parts of Chennai’s outskirts. That way, no place in the city would be too far to reach.
The other end of this bargain is customer interest. In a world that has largely forgotten the goodness of this versatile tree, there is need for reminding, figured Vishwa and towards that end, he started a series of training sessions earlier this year. Though his plans were bent askew by unexpected lockdowns and restrictions, the idea was to train people in three areas of palm work — palm scaling, palm-related food and palm crafts. He’s had one successful run of the courses but there is much more left to be accomplished. Having procured this place for Oor Vaasam would make these activities far more enriching, offering an insight into real-time work, he reasons.
The people we trust
It’s around 3.30 pm when Mark Williams sits down to sharpen his billhook. It is a while before Karuppusamy and Veeramani join him, having just had a cup of tea after their afternoon nap. From within the koorai of the lone hut on the property, they pull out their own tools and get to work. Among the three of them, they pick the trees they want to scale and set up for the evening extraction. This happens twice a day, says Karuppusamy. “We would start climbing around 5 am and it will go on till 9-10 am, from setting up for the collection and bringing it down.
We would climb again for two hours in the evening. I usually cover 20 trees in each run,” he narrates. The 22-year-old, despite his young years, is no novice. He had been scaling the trees in his family property back home in Rajapalayam for five years now. But, it had not been without challenges; the southern districts have more trouble with the toddy ban and so Karuppusamy found himself carted off to the police station twice over it. To avoid any more hardship, he packed off to the city to keep up the same work here. And Vishwa had just the thing to make it happen.
Karuppusamy’s story is no exception. Everyone who made it Oor Vasam has a homecoming story of their own. While Mark Williams made his way to Vishwa’s farm from Villupuram’s Narasinganoor, Veeramani, with decades of palm-climbing experience under his belt, also hails from Rajapalayam. Both had left behind limited prospects to purpose this dream with Vishwa. Rajadurai, their resident delivery man, made his way here after an accident and job insecurity made him quit Swiggy. Lavanya too was an errant entree, recuperating from a surgery that limits her job prospects; she had been working as a staff nurse before then.
For Vishwa himself, the palm farm had been an escape from the cold confines of the finance world. “Though not entirely. I’m holding on to this job till they kick me out. Loan kedaikaathu nga (We won’t get a loan). Who will give me a loan to set up a pathaneer business? It is my pay slip that brings in the money,” he admits. His dalliance with jallikattu protests, his acquaintance with pioneers of the organic food world and his eventual interest in palm and its history, all led him to do his part in changing things for the better. Do what he can in his corner of the world, even if it is for a handful of palm workers.
Oor Vasam Farm’s products can be purchased via a call: 7904234279
Taking the commercial route
On average, 20 litres of pathaneer is sold per day. On weekends, it could be as high as 100 litres. Oor Vasam also supplies approximately 70 litres to organic shops in Chennai. They also accept retail orders over the phone.