DILEEP CHINCHALKER

Who knows it better thanthrushes and shrews thatstrong hedges have a direct

bearing on one’s relations with neigh-bours? With bungalows, open lands andhedges giving way to high-rise apart-ments, one can find more neighbourson the same piece of land than ever, butsocial contact missing. Disappearance ofhedges in cities and their replacement byconcrete walls could be an indication ofgrowth but it also shows growing aloof-ness. It is a matter of serious concern,may be not for humans, surely for thelikes of warblers, moles and a wholerange of lesser creatures. Urbanites mayhave only noticed the absence of com-mon house sparrows from their envi-rons, but it is the whole mini eco-systemof flora and fauna that is at stake.

Remember the simple joy of holdinga glow-worm, or picking k a r o n d aberries. Or collecting odd shaped leavesfor herbarium or a hibiscus for floraldissection without having to go too far.Hedges that were essential part ofhuman environment provided nestingsites for smaller birds, shelter for certainreptiles, rodents—mice banished fromhouses—and breeding places for insects.They helped propagate many shrubsand carried over seasonal climbers fromone monsoon to another. They support-ed a healthy human habitat—a fact notmany would appreciate today.

India is not the only country that haslost its hedges. After World War II,hedgerows began to disappear from theEnglish countryside. After the war, peo-ple began to encroach upon hedgerowsto increase farming acreage. By 1985, asmuch as 155,000 km of hedgerows,enough to encircle the earth nearly fourtimes, vanished. Next six years saw a net

H I S T O R Y

A century old hedge in the botanicalgarden of Edinburgh (Scotland) UK,which is 23 feet tall

Taxman’s hedgeRunning from Torbela near Rawalpindi to Calcutta, the 19thcentury hedge curbed salt smuggling

PHOTOGRAPHS: DILEEP CHINCHALKER

January 16-31, 2009 • Down To Earth 4 9

decline of more than 85,000 km.In the early 1990s, the president of

the County Landowners’ Association,Lord De’Ramsey, saw hedgerows as“nothing more than an attractive luxu-ry. “Essentially it was a traditional land-scape feature trying to survive in 21stcentury environment,” he said. Still on3,000 hectares of his family farmDe’Ramsey had 22.5 km of hedgerowand it cost him 4,000 pounds a year tokeep them trimmed and healthy.

Besides their literary romance, thereis another fascinating aspect ofhedgerows: their antiquity. Hedgerowshave been referred in church recordsand were a regular find in archaeologicalexcavations, which date them back tosecond century AD—the Bronze Age. Ahistorian described them as “among theworld’s oldest artefacts still in use”.De’Ramsey’s farm at Monk’s Woodboasts of a hedge that was planted by aniece of William the Conqueror, some-time in the second half of 11th century.It even has a name—Judith’s Hedge. Ithas witnessed 40 monarchs and has seenthe times of Chaucer and Shakespeare.

In the 1970s, Max Hooper, a pas-sionate defender of hedgerows, devel-oped a formula for determining the

approximate age of a hedgerow.According to the botanist, the age of thehedgerow is equal to the number ofwoody species in 100 feet hedgerowmultiplied by 100. Despite its simplicity,the formula has proved to be fairly accu-rate.

Customs’ barrierEngland has begun reviving this distinc-tive feature of its countryside. Now it islegally forbidden to remove hedgerowsin Britain and the government offerssubsidy to those maintaining them.

I had an opportunity to see thisancient feature of the English country-side in 2007. They are found mostly insouthern England but I tracked arespectable one not far from London,on the MacCreedy farm near Heybridge,Chelmsford in Essex. One morning, Iwas discussing the prospect of visitinganother with an agricultural expertGautam Mohan Sirur in Scotland.Swept by my enthusiasm my host Karlproduced a paperback for me to thumbthrough. It was entitled The Great Hedgeof India by one Roy Moxham.

I was not impressed initially. But as Iread on, I found hedgerows to be a curi-ous but important chapter of BritishIndia’s history that most textbooks havemissed. It was associated with a crueland manipulative levy of the East IndiaCompany: the salt tax. It cost poorlypaid labourers two months’ wages forthe price of a year’s modest supply. TheEast India Company’s restrictions led toshort supply and trafficking.

To clamp a tight control the compa-ny planted a hedge across whole of Indiain the 19th century. Beginning fromTorbela near Rawalpindi, it passedthrough Leia-Multan-Fajilka now intoday’s Pakistan; Hissar-Delhi-Mathura-Agra in north India; Etawah-Palighar-Erich-Chambal ravines-Jhansi-Khailar-Babina further down;Sagar-Khandwa-Burhanpur-Itarsi inCentral Provinces and finally turnedeastwards from Chandrapur,Maharashtra in the direction ofCalcutta. The hedge ran for more than3,700 km. It turned out to be the largestmanned government department in the

Raj and served as a brutal yet effectivebarrier to curb smuggling of salt.

In search of the hedgeMoxham was originally a tea planterwho spent the early years of his career inAfrica. Browsing through a second-hand bookshop, Quinto, in London hecame across a passing reference to thegreat hedge in Rambles and Recollectionsof an Indian Official by Major-GeneralSir W H Sleeman. That was a chancefind. But it launched a quest for thehedge.

Beginning in 1996, Moxham visitedIndia regularly the next three years.Equipped with detailed maps, otherfindings made in England and even aGlobal Positioning System he wanderedacross the plains of central India.Braving the harsh tropical climate,inquisitive people and the general apa-thy of Indian babudom he steadfastlypursued what he called a “ridiculousobsession”.

He rode rickety tongas, overloadedtempo three-wheelers and crowdedIndian railways, downed endless cups of

H I S T O R Y

Map of undivided India andPakistan showing the course ofgreen and dry hedge across thecountry

Besides their literary romance,antiquity is also a fascinating aspect of hedgerows

5 0 Down To Earth • January 16-31, 2009

sweet tea concoction and walkedthrough dacoit-infested Chambalravines unprotected.

All he found was ignorance aboutthe East India Company’s customshedge. Moxham’s search was focused onlocating a raised 20-foot wide corridorof land with remnants of perennialthorny bush. Indian plum was the prin-cipal bush used in customs hedge. But itdid not have a long life span, unlessreseeded from the original bush. In fact,none of the trees deployed as anchorswas expected to live more than 60 years.

In the late 1990s, India had madespectacular progress in satellite technol-ogy, yet the price quoted by NationalRemote Sensing Agency of Hyderabadto produce four overlapping pho-tographs of a particular locality was aforbidding US $16,000. So Moxham hadto depend upon his self-annotatedmaps, local residents and a young lad,Santosh, who was his liaison with theHindi speaking populace.

The hedge was initiated in the 1850sand was at its peak till 1879 when it wasabolished because of uniformity in salttax throughout the Indian union. Theirony of this formidable barrier was thatafter independence, the public works

department found it to be most suitableground for building access ways in ruralareas. This knowledge came from anunlikely source, a p u j a r i from aHanuman shrine in Airak near Jhansi inUttar Pradesh.

The parmat lainIn 1999 Moxham had reached a deadend. He had decided to retreat for theseason when he was approached by anold but powerfully built priest withbushy white beard. He knew the oldhedgerow or the parmat lain and guidedMoxham to its vestiges. The pujari was adacoit in his previous inning henceknew the terrain like the back of hishand. A retired college principal P SChavan from nearby Chaknagar alsolived up to his postgraduate degree ingeology and took Moxham to consider-able and probably the last of the stretch-es of the parmat lain.

Moxhom’s Great Hedge of India, anunusual blend of travelogue and detec-tive story appeared quite unbelievable.That was till one balmy afternoon I raninto Quinto, the bookshop on the cor-ner of Charing Cross and NewportStreet in central London described byMoxham in the first two paragraphs ofhis book. The description was remark-able accurate. It might seem a petty dis-covery. But it was exhilarating to be inthe same place as the British writer whohad been foraging literally in my back-yard towns in India. Quinto sparked offanother search—of an author by a reader.

It was easy to trace Moxham to theUniversity of London’s conservationdepartment. But the department was offlimits to casual visitors and Moxhamhad retired some time back. They wouldnot give contact address to a stranger. Icould do nothing more than leave amessage with the hope that it would beforwarded. When I reached my lodgingthat evening a note from Moxham layon the table inviting me to tea the nextafternoon.

Reader meets authorNeal Street branches off at the top endof the Shaftsbury Avenue. A narrowcobbled street interspersed with elms. Acouple of tables were laid under a groupof elms in front of a tavern strategicallyacross The Apple Tree. This tree hap-pened to be a boutique with a bright

pink façade. On the top storey lived RoyMoxham. I settled down under theyoung elms with a pint of Guinnesswaiting for the appointed hour. When Ipressed the doorbell I was allowed pas-sage to the top branch of the tree. A verytidy bachelor’s flat radiated orientalcharm. Walls adorned pictures ofIndian deities and shelves replete withreferences on India. A couple of framesexhibited well-preserved leaves oftamarind tree, which Moxham hadplucked while returning from a finalsighting of the hedge. He had also col-lected seeds of the banyan tree for hisconservationist friends in London.Some of them found their way to pots inRoy’s flat. Banyan and peepal seeds needto go through the digestive system ofbirds before germination, that is a com-mon belief. In London’s cold ambiencethey did surprisingly well when provid-ed a warm spot behind a refrigerator.

Just as I was beginning to feel smugthinking that I must have been the onlyIndian reader to come this far, Roy pro-duced a copy of a Marathi translation ofhis book. The translation was publishedin 2005. Crestfallen I was not, because atthe end of a two-hour entertaining andenlightening chat I walked out with anassignment to translate The Great Hedgeof India to Hindi. Something to claimmy pound of reflected glory. ■

January 16-31, 2009 • Down To Earth 5 1

H I S T O R Y

Quinto bookshop in central London deals in old books. Roy Moxham ‘s search for the hedge began from here

Roy Moxhom’s Great Hedge ofIndia, an unusual blend of travel-ogue and detective story appearedquite unbelievable