Rats swarm in India as bamboo blossoms

 Rats swarm in India as bamboo        tightening its grip on the
blossoms There is a type of bamboo    village. As I recorded them with a
in the north-eastern state of         microphone looking a bit like a
Mizoram which flowers only every      satellite dish, which homes in on
48 years and, as Neil McCarthy        faraway sounds, the thick cloud
reports, the blossoms spell           crept up from below, infused with
disaster for the local people.        silver moonlight, enveloping me
There is a nocturnal sound Mizoram    and the hillside. Suddenly hungry
farmers dread. Some describe a        rats sounded very close indeed,
wind, some a powerful engine          very loud in my headphones. Was
moving through the insect-buzzing     that a long tail which just slid
night. Others speak of a cutting,     past my foot? I had strayed from
tearing sound made by armies of       the hut, but dashed back as
small scythes. When day breaks        quickly as I could, suppressing a
their eyes take in the sight:         large shudder. Difficult enemy As
entire fields of crops, that took     dawn breaks J Rokuma meets an
months of hard work to prepare        assembly of Ratu farmers. They
after slashing and burning the        want rat poison. It is fairly
jungle, all laid waste. 'Swallowed    ineffective and dangerous, but
up' It is a sound they were told      they are desperate. It is so much
about by their grandparents and       easier fighting a human enemy
which returns, like clockwork,        Village leader The village leader,
every 48 years. It is the sound of    a retired soldier still wearing
Rattus Rattus, the black rat, that    his beret, talks about the
feasts and swarms, bringing ruin      difficulty of waging war on the
and revolution to this faraway        unpredictable rats. It is so much
corner of India. Amid the lush        easier fighting a human enemy, he
vegetation clinging to the            tells me. J. Rokuma chips in that
uncountable hills of Mizoram -        they are on the warpath now.
land of the hill people, the Mizos    Whether 'they' meant the rats, or
- are clumps of brown poles,          the humans, I wasn't sure. The
decaying and being swallowed up by    military connection is
the hungry jungle. They are           significant. During the last
actually a species of bamboo which    bamboo flowering, in 1959, rats
fruits, flowers and dies every        also swarmed, but the Indian
half-century. It happens to be the    central government ignored all
favourite food of the rat and when    warnings of plague and famine,
its flowers rain down on the          dismissing the Mizos as a
forest floor, the rat population      superstitious lot. People's
explodes. Instead of the usual one    suffering fuelled a nationalist
in a litter of 12 pups surviving,     insurgency and 20 years of
in this time of plenty all 12 will    guerrilla warfare until Mizoram
survive and will all be breeding      achieved statehood. Those same
themselves within a few months. Up    jungle warriors are now in top
in the hills, along endless twists    political office in Mizoram,
and turns, with road signs asking     mindful of the unfolding famine
drivers to "be gentle with my         and its far-reaching consequences.
curves" I was taken to the            Biblical connection But Pu Rem, a
conveniently named village of         farmer out on the Ratu hillside,
Ratu, sadly blighted by the rats.     is hungry and weary. He has
J Rokuma, a broad-smiled              already lost one of his two fields
agricultural officer, was dashing     to the rats and they have started
out there with rat poison for         attacking his other one. He has
farmers under siege. Having           been losing sleep, worrying about
finished the bamboo flower, the       whether the rats will come each
rats have moved onto the crops. We    night. His faith is not placed in
trekked across moonlit hillsides      the government, but in God. For
and could make out strange lines      some in this Christian state the
in the fields where the rice had      biblical aspects of the plague and
stood tall but was now gone, the      famine come to mind. Others see it
rats working as if in military        as a magical event: tens of
formation. Alive with sazu Lying      thousands of rats suddenly
in a bamboo hut on my first night     appearing, ransacking and
I was woken by the sound. For me      disappearing at night, as if they
it was like giant rain drops. I       had flown in, unseen. Either way,
clambered out at about four in the    most Mizo villagers are resigned
morning to see tall stems of rice     to the fact that this is a
quiver in the moonlight and then      destructive natural phenomenon
drop to the ground, followed by       they will just have to ride out.
furious munching and squealing.       48 years from now, those old
The rats - or sazu as they call       enough will remind the next
them here - were passing through      generation that the sudden
the field. Beyond it, serpents of     mysterious flowering of the bamboo
silver cloud slide through the        heralds the return of Mizoram's
valley below and the fields,          most unwelcome visitor: Sazu, the
carefully carved out of the           rat. And nothing is likely to get
jungle, lie still on the              in its way. From Our Own
hillsides. It is hard not to be       Correspondent was broadcast on
swept away with the notion of an      Saturday, 25 October, 2008 at 1130
agrarian paradise. But those          BST on BBC Radio 4. Please check
sleeping fields are alive with        the programme schedules for World
unseen rats and famine is             Service transmission times.