The Seed Mother of Seranagla , How Kankudevi Is Sowing Hope Back into the Fields

She also says something that goes straight to the debate on rights. In her view, a seed succeeds only when it is used continuously in the fields, season after season. This means the real way to preserve a seed is to keep sowing it. India’s Protection of Plant Varieties and Farmers’ Rights Act, 2001, recognises this very spirit, that a farmer is not merely a consumer of seed but also its custodian and breeder. Countless women like Kankudevi may not be familiar with this legal language, but they live it every day in the fields.

The most beautiful aspect of Seranagla is the way seeds are exchanged. If a farmer wants a particular native seed, Kankudevi and her companions give it free. The only condition is that in return he shares one of his own varieties. Someone who has no other variety, or who has lost their own, is encouraged to return double the quantity of seed they were given. It is a mutual exchange built on trust, in which each side gives something and receives something. Kankudevi says she has revived this traditional practice of the tribal community.

Kankudevi knew that seeds would survive only if growing them stopped being a losing proposition for farmers. She says millets were long regarded as food for tribals or the poor, and fetched low prices in the market. So she explained to the people around her the cultural and spiritual bond with traditional seeds, and how beneficial they are for health. People now understand that crops like bajra and ragi are nutritious and can also fetch good prices.

The change is beginning to show in the numbers. Kankudevi says that farmers in the area recently sold ragi at 3,700 rupees per quintal, while for maize they get only 2,000 rupees per quintal. This difference shows that returning to millets and leaving maize is now a sensible choice economically, not just emotionally.

At the government level, too, millets are now getting more importance. For the Kharif marketing year 2025-26, the central government raised the minimum support price of ragi by 596 rupees per quintal. This was counted among the biggest increases of that season, and according to experts, ragi saw the highest jump in percentage terms. Adding this increase to last year’s price of 4,290 rupees brings the price to roughly 4,886 rupees per quintal. In other words, the ragi that Seranagla’s farmers sold at 3,700 rupees now has a much higher level of government protection. What remains to be seen is how many small farmers this benefit reaches, and how easily.

The national picture of millet production is also encouraging. According to government documents, the country produced roughly 180 lakh tonnes of millets in 2024-25, with Rajasthan first in production, followed by Maharashtra and Karnataka. It is also worth noting that Rajasthan’s top position rests largely on bajra. Ragi accounts for only around half a percent of the country’s total cropped area and is grown mainly in Karnataka, Tamil Nadu and Maharashtra. Seen this way, the revival of ragi in tribal areas like Banswara carries special meaning, because it is an attempt to root a crop in a new place that has so far remained on the margins. Schemes such as the Nutri-Cereals Sub-Mission also provide support for seed production, demonstration and training, but their real benefit comes only when such support reaches farmers like Kankudevi.

For Kankudevi, the significance of this whole journey goes beyond money. She says that as a woman, this progress means more to her than financial gain. She is restoring the pride of her traditional crops, and these crops are her identity. A great lesson is hidden here. In our country, development is often measured in income, output and statistics, but for communities, farming is not just a livelihood. It holds songs, festivals, deities, relationships and memories. When a seed is lost, an entire cultural vocabulary disappears with it, such as which grain should be sown when, and which dish is made for which festival. When Kankudevi says that these crops are our identity,

Meanwhile, she also admits that this campaign cannot go on alone. She says Vaagdhara’s various trainings inspired her, and that the organisation has supported her in promoting millets in farming. But she also expects something from the government. She says that protecting their seeds with government support will take a long time, and she requests the government’s help in conserving native varieties for the future. This appeal is an invitation to partnership.

At the end of the whole conversation, Kankudevi remembers her father, who gave her the most important lesson about seeds. She still remembers his words clearly: “Seeds are living beings. They are our ancient roots. We need to nurture and protect our traditional seeds, because they keep our customs alive.” And Kankudevi adds simply, “And that is what I am doing.”

In this age of climate change, Kankudevi’s work becomes even more relevant. Amid erratic rains, droughts and rising temperatures, only those crops will endure that can grow with little water and in harsh conditions. Native seeds carry centuries of adaptation, which no laboratory can produce in a day. That is why, at India’s initiative, the United Nations declared 2023 the International Year of Millets. But the real honour will come when policy announcements reach the matka kits of villages like Seranagla.

Kankudevi reminds us that tradition and modernity are not enemies of each other. The market too can give value to traditional crops, provided someone takes the initiative to recognise their worth. The “Seed Mother” of Seranagla has taken that initiative. When the ragi ears sway on the hills of Seranagla after the next rains, they will show both Kankudevi and the labour behind her matka seed kit. Seeds will keep surviving, because someone will keep sowing, sharing and saving them.