In a span of 40 years, Ratanlal Maloo put a Rajasthan village on the world heritage map as a winter habitat for demoiselle cranes

The hand that fed the cranes

In a span of 40 years, Ratanlal Maloo put a Rajasthan village on the world heritage map as a winter habitat for demoiselle cranes. Gangadharan Menon recollects his meeting with the birdman of Kheechan, who passed away two months ago

Ratanlal Maloo, the birdman

It was from Dr Asad Rahmani, director of the Bombay Natural History Society, that I first heard about Ratanlal Maloo. He had almost single-handedly taken care the demoiselle cranes that come to the village of Kheechan in Rajasthan in the winter. And for his tireless efforts spanning four decades, he was conferred the Salim Ali Nature Conservation Award by BNHS.

My pilgrimage to meet this soul took me to his 200-year-old house in Kheechan in January this year. There, sitting in the shade of a khejri tree outside his house, this septuagenarian told me about his amazing journey.
It began over 40 years ago when his uncle requested him to return home from Orissa, where he was working. Little did Ratanlal know that it was a decision that would change his life, and the lives of tens of thousands of demoiselle cranes over the years.

Since at first Ratanlal had little to do in the half-asleep village, his uncle gave him the job of feeding pigeons. Ratanlal and his wife Sundarbai liked this idea as they were devout Jains who believed it was their duty to feed the birds.
Come September
Young Ratanlal used to carry sackfuls of grains to the feeding place and his wife would help him spread it on the ground. Initially, the usual suspects came to feed: squirrels, sparrows, pigeons, and the occasional peacock. But then, in the month of September, he found a dozen large black and white birds he had never seen before, feeding with the regulars. The villagers told him these migratory birds had been frequenting the farmlands of Kheechan of late. They were demoiselle cranes (or kurja in Rajasthani).
It was love at first sight. Ratanlal fed nearly a hundred birds that first winter. But in February, they disappeared overnight. He had to wait till winter for them to come back. And this time around, there were 150 of them. Word must have spread in Mongolia and Eurasia that there was an annual feast awaiting them in Kheechan, served by this gentle soul. Their number kept on increasing year after year, until it reached a staggering 15,000 last year.
Once the demoiselle cranes started growing in numbers, however, problems arose. The local dogs found the three-footer birds easy prey. So Ratanlal got the panchayat to allot him some land on the outskirts of the village, and coaxed the better-off villagers to help him build a granary and a fence around the Chugga Ghar (feeding home). Grains poured in from Jain traders who were supportive of the cause.
To make me understand the scale of this simple act of feeding, Ratanlal explained to me how the requirement for grains grew from a few innocuous kilos to a humungous 1.5 lakh kilos annually. A kilo of grains will feed about 10 cranes in a day. That works out to 1,500 kilos a day for the 15,000 cranes that spent around three months last winter in Kheechan, or 1.5 lakh kilos for the season.
Kheechan today is a World Heritage Site, attracting tourists from around the world who come to see the demoiselle cranes feeding right in the middle of a human settlement. It was on the terrace of a house overlooking the Chugga Ghar that I met Torbjorn Eriksen, an ornithologist from Denmark. He said he had seen many congregations of different species of birds across the world, but never one so dramatic.
Torbjorn explained to me the ecological significance of Ratanlal's act. Because the cranes get the food they need in the Chugga Ghar, they don't ravage the farmlands of Kheechan and surrounding villages, thereby averting a potential conflict with humans.
15,000 children
When I reminded Ratanlal that his guests come all the way from Mongolia and Eurasia, he smiled and said, "To me it doesn't matter where they are coming from, and where they are going. What matters to me is that they have entered my life." As we sat near the granary where a tractor-load of grains was being unloaded, a farmer came with an injured crane, attacked by a village dog. As Ratanlal washed its wounds with care, I remembered his reply to my query whether he had any children: "I have about 15,000 of them!"
Ratanlal shared with me what he had observed in these birds over the years. They gather on the sand dunes overlooking the Chugga Ghar just before daybreak. First a flock of about 30 circles overhead, making sure it's safe to land. Once the leader of the group lands, the entire entourage follows in wave after wave. About 500 of them can feed at a time in the enclosure, and the rest wait patiently on the sand dunes for their turn. As one group has its fill and flies away, another group takes its place.
Ratanlal told me that for the last 11 years, the leader has been a crane known locally as 'langda', because it has a limp. He is instantly recognizable one of his legs dangles in the air as he hovers over the Chugga Ghar, and then he lands on one leg!
After their meal, the cranes fly off to two lakes nearby, Vijaysagar and Raatdi Naadi. Here they sip the clear water and also gobble up pebbles on the shore. Ratanlal explained that the pebbles act as grinding stones to make it easier for the cranes to digest the whole grains they consume at the Chugga Ghar. Then they have a dip in the lake, and the more romantic among them indulge in ballet-like mating dances. Just before sundown, they call it a day and fly off to a salty field nearby called Malhar Rinn where they spend the night standing on one leg. The next morning they are back at the Chugga Ghar. This routine continues till March, when one day, without any warning, they fly off to the land of their birth in the dead of night.
Two months ago, on July 7, Ratanlal too flew away from this world in the middle of the night. And now, this month, the demoiselle cranes will start landing again in Kheechan. Perhaps some of them will miss the hand that fed them for so many years.

 


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