Bonphool: Chapter 3 - Soshan, the Business Advisor

In the mangrove forests of the Sundarbans, nature creates one of its sweetest gifts—Sundarban honey. Harvested amidst crocodiles, tigers, and challenging conditions, every drop tells a story of courage and tradition. Yet, the story of our honey initiative began not in the forest, but with an unlikely guide whose practical wisdom shaped our journey.

The idea of promoting honey-based livelihoods in the Sundarbans came from Pranab Mondal. Inspired by his vision, I started conducting meetings with my departmental staff and villagers to explore the possibilities. WWF-India, along with Shri Prabir Garain of Ramkrishna Nimpith Krishi Vigyan Kendra, had earlier experimented with sustainable apiary practices in the Sundarbans. Their experience offered a valuable starting point.

To begin with, we organized a meeting with honey gatherers in Jharkhali. Prabir Garain, an excellent scientist with extensive knowledge of apiary, patiently explained the benefits of scientific beekeeping. Avoiding scientific jargon, he described how improved practices could make beekeeping safer, more productive, and more profitable. A few villagers raised doubts, and Prabir answered them convincingly. Watching the discussion, I felt confident that we had succeeded in convincing the villagers and that the initiative would move forward smoothly.

Figure 3.1: The meeting where I first encountered Soshan’s wisdom

Just when I thought the meeting was over, a voice from the last bench began asking a series of difficult questions. Prabir, with his vast field experience and knowledge of apiary, suddenly found himself challenged. For every answer he offered, there came a counterargument. The questions were practical, rooted in years of experience rather than textbooks. We were all surprised by how much this villager knew. The discussion continued for nearly twenty minutes. Prabir responded with the best of his knowledge, and eventually the arguments subsided. No one could fault the scientific principles he had explained.

Yet, something important became clear. While the villagers accepted the logic of scientific beekeeping, they were not ready to abandon practices that had been passed down through generations. Change would require more than technical knowledge; it would require trust. To build that trust, we needed people like Soshan.

At the end of the meeting, I called the lone dissenting voice and spoke to him.

"Saar, I am Soshan," he said. "I have been doing beekeeping for the last twenty-five years. Whatever was said in the meeting is all fine, but doing it in the field is not easy."

He had quietly challenged every argument in the meeting, and now I understood why.

Soshan was a dark-skinned man whose face bore the marks of years of hard work under the sun. He was almost always dressed in a tight T-shirt, a checked lungi, and a red gamcha draped around his neck. The gamcha seemed to be a constant companion—used alternately as a towel, a scarf, and protection from the heat. Despite the hardships of life, he was rarely seen without a smile. His weathered appearance reflected decades of experience in the fields and villages of the Sundarbans. At first glance, he looked like any ordinary villager, but once he began speaking about bees and honey, it became clear that he possessed a wealth of practical knowledge that few could match.

At that moment, I realized how little I knew about the practical aspects of beekeeping. If this initiative had to succeed, I would need people like Soshan. Scientific expertise was important, but understanding local realities was equally critical. Soshan assured me that he would share all his knowledge and extend every possible help to the initiative.

From that day on, I tried to meet Soshan whenever I visited Jharkhali.

My favourite Range Officer, Biplab, would invariably say, "Sir, he is not in a condition to meet you."

When I asked why, Biplab would smile and reply, "Soshan is in a divine state, inebriated with Somras. Sir, he will meet you next time."

The next time I visited, the answer remained the same.

After four unsuccessful attempts, Biplab finally said, "Sir, aapnake kasht korte hobe na (you don't have to take the trouble). I will bring him to your Kolkata office."

Ultimately, one fine day, Biplab managed to catch Soshan before he entered his divine state and brought him to my Kolkata office early in the morning.

That meeting turned out to be one of the most important discussions of the entire initiative.

Soshan explained the honey business in remarkable detail. He spoke about the challenges faced by beekeepers, the costs involved, seasonal variations, market realities, and the risks that outsiders often failed to understand. He discussed not only production but also marketing and profitability. It was practical business advice gathered from years of experience in the field, not from books or reports.

Finally, he looked at me and said, "Saar, bees don't read government orders. They work according to nature. If we do this with conviction, we can make a lot of profit. Honey is like sona (gold)."

That simple statement carried more conviction than any report I had read.

After receiving this advice from Soshan, my hesitation disappeared. I became convinced that if we worked sincerely and addressed the concerns of local communities, the initiative would succeed. More importantly, I felt reassured that we would not be venturing into unknown territory without guidance. Soshan had given me the confidence I needed to move forward.

Figure 3.2: Soshan training fellow beekeeper

Thereafter, I consulted him at every important stage of implementing beekeeping in the field. His practical suggestions helped us navigate challenges that no manual or training programme could have anticipated. He remained associated with the initiative until its launch and played a crucial role in building confidence among local communities.

As the initiative expanded, gained momentum, and eventually earned national recognition, new leaders emerged to take it forward. Soshan gradually stepped away from the spotlight. Many people who later became associated with the programme may never have known how important his contribution had been.

The man who had first spoken from the last bench of a village meeting went on to become one of the strongest pillars of the initiative.

Figure 3.3: Soshan, the poster boy of Bonphool

If Pranab Mondal gave us the idea, Soshan gave us the confidence to implement it.

Yet, I have always considered Soshan one of the true architects of the Sundarban honey initiative. Though he faded from view as the programme grew, he remained, in many ways, the face of the initiative.

Soshan taught me an important lesson. Knowledge is not always found in offices, universities, or books. Sometimes, it sits quietly on the last bench of a village meeting, waiting to be heard.

(To be continued...)