A New Beginning on New Year’s Day: Our Beekeeping Journey

A New Beginning on New Year’s Day: Our Beekeeping Journey

Sometimes, meaningful journeys begin with simple conversations.

On 31 December 2025, one of our neighbour’s visited our home in the village. During our discussion, the topic of beekeeping came up—how it can generate income for rural families and also help improve crop pollination. He mentioned that he himself had two bee boxes placed in his backyard. As we spoke, he told us about a trained beekeeper in Yellapur, and that there were places there where bee boxes and colonies could be purchased.

This was not the first time we had discussed beekeeping with him. So when he asked when we planned to visit, we decided almost instantly. Since it was already the evening of the 31st, we told him to inform the family that we would come the next day—1 January 2026.

While most people were preparing to celebrate the New Year, we decided to begin the year differently—by taking the first step toward building something meaningful for our organization.

Setting Out on New Year’s Morning a new beginning

a new beginning On 1 January 2026, after finishing breakfast, we began preparing for our journey and were ready to leave by around 10:00 a.m. At that time, we were staying in Haliyal, and Yellapur, our destination, was approximately an hour’s drive away. One more member who shared a keen interest in beekeeping decided to join us, and soon our small group came together—six of us travelling in one car, including my daughter.

We finally set out at 10:15 a.m. towards a New Beginning as we moved away from the village, the surroundings gradually transformed. The road took us past open fields, gentle streams, and stretches of dense forest. The landscape was lush and green, offering a sense of calm that contrasted beautifully with the busy New Year celebrations happening elsewhere. During the drive, we spoke about the realities faced by farmers living near forest boundaries, especially the frequent damage to crops caused by wild animals such as elephants. These conversations reminded us of the challenges rural communities face every day and strengthened our resolve to explore sustainable livelihood options like beekeeping.

By around 11:00 a.m., we reached Yellapur. It was only then that we realized some members travelling with us had skipped breakfast in the morning. Wanting to continue the journey comfortably, we decided to stop at a small roadside eatery along the Yellapur–Sirsi road. The stall was modest but noticeably clean and well maintained. We paused there briefly—while I enjoyed a cup of hot tea, the others had a simple breakfast. This short break allowed us to relax, refresh ourselves, and continue the journey with renewed energy and enthusiasm.

Memories Along the of A New Beginning

As we continued along the Yellapur–Sirsi road, I mentioned to my husband that I was travelling on this stretch after nearly twenty-five years. The moment I said it aloud, memories from my childhood began to surface. When I was a student at a boarding school in Honnavar, this was one of the routes my parents and I would take during holidays and school visits. Back then, the journey felt long, the roads narrower, and every turn seemed like an adventure.

As the car moved forward, familiar yet distant images from the past flashed through my mind—sitting quietly in the vehicle, watching the changing landscape through the window, listening to my parents’ conversations, and feeling the comfort of travelling together as a family. Those moments, long tucked away in memory, returned unexpectedly, bringing with them a deep sense of nostalgia. For a brief while, I found myself missing my parents intensely, touched by how certain roads have the power to reconnect us with people and times that shaped our lives.

Lost in this conversation and these memories, we crossed a bridge over the Bedti River. At that moment, I did not notice that there were actually two bridges standing side by side—one older and one newer. It was only after we had crossed that I realised this, and a sense of regret followed for not having stopped to observe it closely or take photographs. I imagined the stories the older bridge might hold and the countless journeys it must have witnessed over the years. I quietly told myself that if time and daylight allowed, we would stop on our return journey to truly take in the view and capture the moment.

Journey into the Forest: Reaching Bilki

We reached Manchikere, a small but important junction located on the main road, and from there turned onto a narrow diversion road leading towards a village called Bilki. This was no regular road—it was a kaccha road, uneven and winding, bordered closely by trees and forest growth on both sides. The condition of the road demanded patience, and we slowed down, carefully navigating each stretch as the surroundings gradually grew quieter and more remote.

This road, however, stirred deep memories within me. When I was a child, this path did not exist as a motorable road at all. It was merely a narrow footpath cutting through dense forest. Villagers would walk eight to ten kilometres along this very route to reach Manchikere, from where they could catch transport to Yellapur or Sirsi. I faintly remembered walking this path with my parents, surrounded by thick jungle, tall trees, and the sounds of nature. Though the details were hazy, the feeling of that long walk—of effort, simplicity, and quiet resilience—still remained vivid in my heart. never thought this road would be a start of a new beginning in my life.

As we continued, the forest seemed to close in around us. We soon came upon a clear water stream, gently flowing across our path, with a small, simple bridge laid over it. The water was fresh and transparent, reflecting the greenery around it. Crossing the stream felt symbolic, as though we were leaving the familiar behind and stepping deeper into a different world.

The road beyond was rough and bumpy, but the beauty of the forest made up for the discomfort. After navigating these final stretches, we finally reached our destination—deep within the forest, far removed from the noise of towns and highways. Standing there, surrounded by greenery and silence, it felt as though time itself had slowed down, welcoming us into a space where life moved at a very different pace.

The area where we arrived was striking in its isolation. There were only two houses in sight, surrounded by dense forest—one belonging to Ravi and the other to his uncle. As our vehicle came to a stop near Ravi’s home, two young children came running towards us, their faces lighting up with excitement. We had met them earlier at a wedding on 27 December, and they recognised us instantly. Their familiarity and enthusiasm made us feel welcome even before we stepped out of the car.

Ravi’s house was nestled deep within the forest, enclosed by a simple wooden compound carefully constructed to keep cattle from wandering inside. Though modest, the arrangement reflected thoughtfulness and practicality. As we walked downhill towards the house, the surroundings were quiet, broken only by natural sounds. Near the entrance, we noticed a small place of worship—a simple, house-like structure that stood quietly, symbolizing faith and tradition woven into daily life.

Ravi and his mother welcomed us with genuine warmth and humility. The house itself was simple—there were no proper walls, and the floor was finished with cow dung, a traditional practice that keeps the space cool and clean. Despite its simplicity, the house radiated peace and a deep sense of belonging. It was a place shaped not by material comforts, but by care, resilience, and harmony with nature.

Ravi’s mother immediately offered us juice, her hospitality effortless and sincere. Meanwhile, my daughter quickly joined the children outside, and soon their laughter echoed around the house as they began to play together. Watching them, it felt as though barriers of language, place, and circumstance simply disappeared, leaving behind a shared sense of joy and connection in a new beginning.

A Stream in the Backyard

As we sat and spoke, curiosity led us to ask how they managed their daily essentials, given that there were no shops or facilities nearby. Ravi’s mother explained calmly that they had a shortcut path behind the house, which they used regularly on foot to reach Manchikere. She then mentioned, almost casually, that the stream we had crossed earlier on the road was actually right behind their backyard.

Her words surprised us. Unable to hide our curiosity, we asked if we could see it. My daughter’s eyes lit up immediately, and she excitedly asked if she could swim there. Smiling at her enthusiasm, Ravi’s mother agreed, and we all walked behind the house together.

What we discovered felt almost magical. The stream was barely five hundred metres away, quietly flowing through the forest as if it were a natural extension of their home. The water was clear, shallow, and fresh, and Ravi’s mother told us that it flows throughout the year, even in the hotter months. The children wasted no time—they stepped into the water, splashing, laughing, and playing freely, completely at ease in their surroundings.

Standing there, watching the children enjoy the stream, it was impossible not to admire the simplicity of life they lived—close to nature, yet rich in experiences that money cannot buy. The gentle sound of flowing water and the surrounding greenery created a sense of calm A New Beginning that stayed with us.

Before we returned to the house, Ravi’s mother warmly invited us to stay with them for a few days sometime in the future. She promised to take us to even more beautiful and lesser-known places in the area during the summer vacation. Touched by her kindness and openness, we gladly agreed, already looking forward to returning.

We then walked to the area where Ravi had placed his four bee boxes, carefully arranged near the edge of the forest. All the boxes were active, with bees moving in and out, a quiet but constant sign of life and productivity. Ravi opened the boxes one by one and patiently showed us the colonies inside, explaining how the bees were organised and how the activity in each box indicated the health of the colony. He also proudly showed us his beekeeping training certificate, which he had earned through formal training—clear evidence of his knowledge and willingness to learn.

As we observed the boxes, we asked Ravi why he had not been able to develop beekeeping into a full-time livelihood. With honesty and simplicity, he explained the challenges he faced. He told us that during his training, he had been provided with two bee boxes, and the remaining two were obtained from someone who had stopped beekeeping and no longer wanted to use them. While this allowed him to start small, it was not enough to grow the activity into a sustainable source of income.

He further explained that financial constraints prevented him from purchasing additional boxes or equipment. Even basic requirements like honey extractors had to be rented, which increased costs and reduced profits. Bottling and storage posed another challenge, and selling the honey was difficult because he had to depend on middlemen, leaving him with little control over pricing and earnings.

As he spoke, it became clear that his limitations were not due to lack of interest or effort, but due to lack of resources and access. When we asked him if he would be willing to continue and expand beekeeping if we supported him with basic equipment and additional boxes, his expression changed instantly. His face lit up with hope, and without a moment’s hesitation, he said yes.

He went on to share the larger reality of their lives—how employment opportunities in the area were scarce and how the family depended mainly on daily wage work and seasonal labour in fields. Beekeeping, he felt, could offer them stability, dignity, and a way to remain connected to their land and forest and a new beginning

Standing there, listening to him, we felt certain that with the right support, this small beginning had the potential to grow into something meaningful—not just for Ravi’s family, but as a model for others in similar circumstances.

Hospitality from the Heart

Ravi’s mother lovingly prepared lunch for all of us, and throughout the meal she kept apologising gently, saying that if she had known about our visit in advance, she would have cooked something more special. Her words reflected not a lack of care, but a deep sense of hospitality and warmth that comes naturally to her. We reassured her repeatedly, telling her that the food she had prepared—especially the chicken dish—was already very special to us and more than we could have asked for.

The meal was simple, home-cooked, and full of flavour, made with the kind of care that can only come from cooking for guests in one’s own home. Sitting together and sharing food in such a peaceful, forest-surrounded setting made the experience feel even more meaningful. It was not just lunch, but a moment of connection and shared humanity.

After finishing our meal, we spent some time chatting casually, speaking about family, daily life, and the forest surroundings. Laughter and conversation flowed easily. Before leaving, we took a group photograph with the family, capturing a memory of the day and the bond that had quietly formed between us. With warm goodbyes and a sense of gratitude, we then began preparing to continue our journey, carrying with us not just photographs, but a deep sense of respect and affection for the family we were leaving behind.

Meeting Shankar Bhat at Ummachigi

Our next destination was Ummachigi, where we were scheduled to meet Shankar Bhat, a well-known resource person in the region who actively supports beekeeping by providing equipment, technical guidance, and ongoing mentorship to local farmers and aspiring beekeepers and help us in a new beginning

Ravi and the member who had introduced us to him decided to travel ahead on a motorbike, while we continued by car, taking a different route that would reconnect us to the main road. The road was rough in places, narrow, and uneven, but it was surrounded by natural beauty. The forest stretched endlessly on either side, and the journey felt peaceful despite the challenging terrain.

Along the way, Ravi pointed out a cinnamon tree in full bloom, growing naturally within the forest. Although cinnamon is recognised as one of the Non-Timber Forest Produce (NTFP), I had only ever seen it grown in cultivated backyards or managed plantations. Seeing it growing wild in its natural forest habitat was a first for me, and it felt both rare and exciting.

We stopped briefly to admire the tree, taking in its distinctive leaves and fragrance. We took a few photographs and carefully collected a few leaves, wanting to preserve the moment without disturbing the tree. This unexpected encounter became yet another memorable part of our journey, reminding us of the richness, resilience, and diversity of the forest ecosystem, and how much there still is to learn from nature when we take the time to observe it closely.

When we reached Umachigi, Shankar Bhat welcomed us warmly, making us feel immediately at ease. His home and compound reflected his deep involvement with beekeeping—everything around us revolved around bees, honey, and plants. Bee boxes were neatly arranged, flowering plants were grown thoughtfully to support pollination, and the space itself felt like a living classroom.

Shankar Bhat patiently walked us through the structure and functioning of bee boxes, explaining how colonies develop and how to assess their health. He demonstrated the process of colony division, describing the right time, method, and care required to ensure the bees thrive. He explained that this was an ideal season for colony division and encouraged us to bring empty boxes, assuring us that he could help provide healthy colonies.

Throughout our interaction, he spoke with clarity and confidence, and more importantly, with a genuine willingness to support our efforts. He assured us that he would be available for guidance whenever we needed it in the future. His encouragement and openness strengthened our belief that with the right knowledge and local support, beekeeping could truly become a a new beginning sustainable livelihood option for families like Ravi’s.

As we began our return journey towards Haliyal, the image of the Bedti River bridge remained fresh in my mind. Remembering my earlier regret at not stopping, I reminded the driver to slow down and stop once we reached the bridge. This time, we made sure to pause.

We got down from the vehicle and spent a few quiet moments taking in the view and capturing photographs. The scene before us was truly breathtaking. The river flowed calmly below, reflecting the surrounding greenery, while the open landscape created a sense of space and stillness that invited us to linger.

The Bedti River was flanked by two bridges, standing side by side—one older and one newer. The older bridge, built with stone masonry, carried a distinctly colonial-era architectural appearance. Its weathered structure stood silently, bearing the marks of time and countless journeys across it. While no specific historical records were referenced, the design and construction style suggested that it may have been built during the colonial period, a time when such stone bridges were commonly constructed to connect remote regions.

It was difficult not to imagine the importance this bridge must have once held—serving as a vital link for people, trade, and daily movement across the river. The newer bridge, in contrast, reflected the present—designed to meet modern requirements and traffic needs. Together, the two bridges seemed to represent different phases of time, with the newer one complementing the older structure rather than replacing it, allowing both to coexist as part of the landscape and its history.

The surroundings were mesmerising—lush greenery stretching into the distance, the gentle sound of flowing water, and the soft movement of the breeze. We spent some time there, absorbing the beauty, clicking photographs, and enjoying the rare luxury of simply being present in the moment.

After that peaceful pause, we continued our journey, driving towards Yellapur. We stopped briefly for tea at the Yellapur–Haliyal cross, sharing a warm cup and reflecting on the day’s experiences. With the evening setting in, we finally headed back home, carrying with us memories of a journey that felt both purposeful and deeply fulfilling the new beginning

As we began our journey back, our conversations naturally shifted toward what could be done next. The day had given us clarity, but more importantly, it had given us direction. While we were discussing possibilities, one of the members travelling with us mentioned that he knew someone nearby who had a few empty bee boxes lying unused. Without wasting any time, he contacted them immediately. To our relief and encouragement, they agreed to lend the boxes.

On 2 January, the empty boxes were collected. As I was scheduled to return to Mumbai that same day, I was unable to receive them personally. However, arrangements were quickly made to ensure the boxes were sent directly to Shankar Bhat, who had already assured us of his support. The boxes were sent to him for colony preparation, and the process has since begun.

Though this may seem like a small step, it carries immense meaning for us. In the coming weeks, once the colonies are ready, we plan to hand them over to families like Ravi’s, enabling them to begin or strengthen their beekeeping journey. The intention is not just to provide resources, but to create sustainable livelihoods, restore dignity through meaningful work, and offer a path toward long-term self-reliance.

This experience has reaffirmed a powerful truth for all of us at AKSSAD (All Karnataka Siddi Social and Aspirational Diversification Association): meaningful change does not always start with grand plans, heavy funding, or perfect roadmaps. Often, a new beginning starts quietly—with one honest conversation, one shared concern, and one small but sincere step forward. What matters most is the willingness to act with integrity, commitment, and belief in the collective strength of a community. For us, this marks not just a project, but a new beginning for the Siddi community—one rooted in dignity, self-reliance, and sustainable livelihoods.

Our beekeeping journey symbolizes this new beginning. It represents learning, collaboration, and the courage to try something new while honoring traditional wisdom. Each hive we set up, each skill we learn, and each person who joins hands with us adds momentum to this new beginning. It is a journey of patience and persistence, where small efforts compound into lasting impact. This new beginning is about creating opportunities, reshaping narratives, and building a future where the community is seen not through the lens of limitations, but through its potential and resilience.

As we move forward, we will continue to share updates through future blogs, documenting not just milestones but also lessons learned along the way. We hope our readers, well-wishers, and supporters walk with us in this new beginning—by encouraging our work, sharing our story, and standing beside us as partners in change. Together, let this new beginning become a movement that builds a stronger, more empowered, and more confident future for the community. Join us in this journey, and be a part of a new beginning that can change life, a new beginning that truly matters.