Life Lessons From Land – Reflections by Ecological Designer Minna Bansal

Seasonal rock pools host a diversity of flora and fauna at the Hyderabad Collective

When I first started exploring regenerative and ecological design, my decision to do so came from a place of the deep joy and gratitude I feel for the earth and all her beings when I am in the midst of nature. I wanted to translate my love and also increasing concern for Gaia into tangible actions. I continued to question and learn and find my place in the action for the climate emergency through working with permaculture design and landscapes of various sizes. Little did I know that in my continued interactions in shaping the land, the land would start to shape me in ways that I had never anticipated.

During my first few visits to the vast and mighty landscape of the Hyderabad Collective, its enormous bouldered terrain invoked in me an awe and wonder at just how beautiful nature’s creations can be. Right from the large rocks teetering seemingly precariously on each other, to the million tiny insects that buzz around the busy grassland, there is beauty everywhere to be seen. But along with the beauty, the landscape is also prickly – not just in the thorny scrub forest that is native to the region, but also in the unforgiving summer heat, that stings and parches. What lessons can such a landscape have for us?


Prickly plants of the Euphorbia sp. grow wild at the Hyderabad Collective

Seeing With New Eyes

One of the first lessons from the land, is surely that of gratitude. In these nascent years of the dry landscape, biomass material (green and brown leaves, twigs and branches) and water have been two of our most precious resources. These are two elements that we cannot do without, but are quite hard to currently find on our land. As we work tirelessly to find the most efficient and creative use of them, we value and are thankful for every little leaf that sheds onto the ground and every drop of rain we receive. 

Cultivating the practice of wonder, curiosity and joy in the small moments has been another. Every seed that sprouted and flower that turned gracefully into fruit has been a genuine source of wonder at the miracle of life. I continue to be amazed at the diversity of life that the landscape supports – throngs of bees, butterflies, birds and insects that seem to be growing in number every passing season. During my many walks at the collective, I have found kinship in their presence, a shared appreciation for the land that supports all of us. 

Cycles of Life

Frog eggs spotted in a rock pool up on the rocky ridges of the collective

As we finish a season’s harvest, we prune plants, gather leaves and all remains go into our compost piles. The following season, this rich compost thriving with the past life of our veg supports the next set of crops, completing the circle of life. Working with crops and plants, one encounters death on a regular basis, and contemplations on the cyclical nature of life come naturally. You also realise that in nature, there really is no concept of waste, just a form of energy changing from one to another.

Nature has an interesting way of making us slowly part ways with our egoistic self. How much ever one ‘designs’, without the attitude of openness to what the landscape needs, we are bound to encounter failure and continued stress. Deep observation and attuning oneself to the land’s needs through all our senses, is a skill I am still learning to get better at. 

Gaia’s Wisdom

Perennial flowers and edible shrubs host a number of bees, butterflies and birds in our FPZ gardens

There have been so many more teachings, from this landscape and those before – every failed out-of-season crop that we attempted to grow was a reminder that there is no point in forcing nature, and that there is a right time for every seed or plant to flourish. When the conditions are right, life thrives seamlessly. What a beautiful thought to carry with us in our daily lives. Every seemingly dead or uncared-for plant that unexpectedly bounced back after a light rain, is a lesson in nature’s forgiveness and resilience. 

Embracing surprises, coping with loss, making peace with complexity, learning to adapt and react to new crises, finding beauty in the small things, observing with new eyes, learning from failure and picking ourselves back again – almost every skill that one needs to practice for the ‘outside world’, can be encountered in a permaculture garden. A flourishing landscape is a living reminder of the saying ‘good things take time’, plenty of effort and perseverance. The delicious harvests of sweet fruit and fragrances help make the journey more beautiful and blessed. All the experiences of the past years have also deepened my empathy, respect, appreciation and gratitude for each land worker who toils away to feed the soil and our stomachs. 

Flowers of the Dichrostachys cinerea tree growing near the staff residence. Also known as Durangi Babool because of its dual coloured pink and yellow flowers.

As this new year begins, I encourage readers to start a small garden for themselves, however small. Allow yourself to open up to the life lessons and be nurtured, just by tending a few plants in your balcony. 

As you do so, try to ask yourself, are you taking care of your garden, or is your garden taking care of you?