Cheruvayal Raman, ‘father of rice’ who kept indigenous varieties alive, dies at 76

Cheruvayal Raman was a Kurichiya tribal farmer from Wayanad who dedicated his life to conserving indigenous rice. He began working in paddy fields at 10 and studied only through Class 5. His practical knowledge became valuable to scientists, farmers and researchers. The nickname ‘Nella achaan’ means ‘father of rice’ and reflects his role as a guardian of traditional seeds.

His conservation journey began around 2000, when he started collecting local varieties from fields across Wayanad. He expanded his collection from four or five varieties to 55. By 2016, he grew all 55 each year across small plots on his three acres. He stored seeds in bamboo baskets and shared them with farmers.

Raman continued this work despite criticism, low returns and family concerns. He received the National Plant Genome Saviour Award and the Padma Shri in 2023. He died at 76 while undergoing treatment at Kozhikode Medical College and Hospital, leaving behind a widely recognised model of seed conservation.

Indigenous rice varieties are traditional seeds associated with a particular region and its farming practices. They are maintained by farmers over generations. The article describes Raman collecting such varieties from paddy fields across Wayanad. It does not provide a technical definition of hybrids, but contrasts indigenous varieties with high-yielding hybrid seeds promoted by agricultural scientists and governments.

The clearest difference in the article is the farming choice. Raman’s traditional varieties generally produced lower yields and caused financial losses. He still cultivated them because he believed many had nearly vanished. Hybrid or high-yielding varieties were associated with efforts to increase production, while indigenous varieties represented local knowledge, culture and seed diversity.

The article shows that the two approaches can have different goals. High-yielding seeds focus on output, while Raman’s collection focused on conserving traditional varieties. It does not compare their precise genetics, taste, nutrition or climate performance. His work kept an alternative seed heritage available to farmers and researchers.

Raman’s rice bank contained 55 varieties by 2016. This was a major increase from the four or five varieties he cultivated when he began conserving seeds around 2000. The collection included varieties he believed had nearly disappeared as farmers abandoned traditional paddy cultivation.

He grew all 55 varieties every year on his three acres of paddy land. To make this possible, he divided the fields into small plots. Each plot accommodated a different variety, allowing Raman to maintain a living collection rather than storing seeds alone. He also kept harvested seeds in bamboo baskets inside his ancestral mud house.

This scale made his work both unusual and demanding. He searched Wayanad’s paddy fields between harvests and continued looking for new varieties until the end of his life. His collection functioned as a community resource because he shared seeds with farmers, asking them to return part of their harvest as seed.

Raman preserved traditional rice because he saw their disappearance as a serious loss. Farmers were abandoning paddy cultivation, and traditional farming was becoming unattractive and unprofitable. He believed some local seeds would have become history without his initiative. His decision therefore focused on protecting knowledge and varieties, not maximising immediate income.

The article describes a direct trade-off. Agricultural scientists and governments were promoting high-yielding hybrid seeds, while Raman continued growing traditional varieties that generally produced less. He divided his three acres into plots for 55 varieties and kept searching for more. Critics, including some relatives, called the work an unprofitable pursuit and said he had become obsessed with rice.

Raman persisted because he valued Wayanad’s heritage and indigenous farming knowledge. Recognition eventually followed, including the National Plant Genome Saviour Award and the Padma Shri in 2023. His choice showed how conservation can require farmers to protect resources whose benefits may be cultural and long-term rather than immediately financial.

Raman’s seed-sharing system helped varieties survive beyond his own fields. He gave seeds to farmers rather than selling them. In return, each farmer had to provide a portion of the harvest as seeds. This kept the varieties circulating and replenished Raman’s stock for future planting.

The mechanism was simple but powerful. A farmer received seed, cultivated the crop, harvested it and returned some grain for the next season. Raman could then share those seeds again. The system linked his three-acre collection with other farms and reduced dependence on a single conservation site. It also gave farmers a way to participate in preserving local varieties.

The article does not state how many farmers joined or how many varieties survived through this system. It does show why the arrangement mattered: Raman said farmers were abandoning paddy cultivation and that some seeds would have become history without his initiative. Returning seeds made conservation an ongoing practice rather than a one-time donation.

When indigenous rice varieties disappear, farmers lose seeds connected to local knowledge and traditional cultivation. The article links their decline to farmers abandoning paddy farming. It also describes Raman’s collection as preserving Wayanad’s culture and generations of Adivasi knowledge. Losing the seeds could therefore weaken both farming heritage and community identity.

A practical consequence is reduced choice. Raman’s 55 varieties offered alternatives to the high-yielding hybrid seeds promoted by scientists and governments. The article does not measure their nutrition, disease resistance or climate tolerance, so those effects should not be assumed from the text. It does establish that many varieties were nearly gone and required active conservation.

For food security, fewer varieties can mean a narrower seed base. World agricultural knowledge commonly treats diversity as a buffer against farming risks, but the article does not detail specific risks. Raman’s sharing system offered one response: keep seeds in cultivation, return part of each harvest, and pass them between farmers before they disappear.

Genetic diversity means maintaining many forms of the same crop rather than relying on one uniform type. This matters because different varieties can respond differently to pests, diseases, heat, drought or changing growing conditions. The article does not list specific traits in Raman’s rice, but it shows why preserving many varieties can protect future agricultural options.

Raman maintained 55 varieties by growing them in separate plots on three acres. He collected seeds across Wayanad and stored them in bamboo baskets. Farmers also returned part of their harvest as seed after receiving varieties from him. These steps kept genetic material in cultivation and conservation, rather than allowing it to vanish as traditional farming declined.

A diverse seed base can help farmers and researchers look for useful traits when conditions change. This is a well-established agricultural principle, not a specific claim measured in the article. Raman’s work therefore had importance beyond one farm: it preserved local choices and knowledge that may support future crop resilience, even though the article does not identify particular pest, disease or climate benefits.