The First Chapter in Dr. Mukund Naware’s Three-Part Blog Series

To set the stage, let’s kick things off with that letter to Dr. Naware.

Dear Dr. Naware,

Greetings!

I hope this email finds you in good health.I would like to know your thoughts on the English translation of your evocative memoir article “Stories from Yesteryears and Now ,” published in the Marathi magazine Maitri. The English translation is provided below.

In my view, this is another important, informative, and engaging piece of writing from you, which vividly captures a small yet lively portrait of rural Maharashtra from our—and your—youthful days.

After reading your article, I found myself reflecting on how, in these fifty-five years, time has changed, while we have transformed so profoundly: from young enthusiasts to seasoned retirees bound by duty, and now living abroad, far from the country. And these two letters, “AI,” have evolved just as dramatically.

Time has played a clever game with AI.

Two letters: AI. In 1970, we knew it as Artificial Insemination. The result of human scientific ingenuity, the AI of 1970 was a revolutionary veterinary procedure in India through which young veterinary doctors like you began impregnating cows using frozen semen and meticulously crafted instruments—sparking a quiet revolution in dairy farming, one animal at a time. It was hands-on science: liquid nitrogen containers and the promise of hybrid breeds that proved remarkably effective in boosting farmers’ milk production. Our country not only achieved self-reliance in milk but also became the world’s largest producer.

By 2025, the same two letters “AI” have come to mean Artificial Intelligence—a digital marvel fueled by algorithms and vast datasets. Here I am, an 80-year-old retiree, harnessing this man-made intelligence (no cows involved!) to translate your evocative Marathi prose into English or Hindi in mere seconds. What once required teams of experts and international collaborations in the ’70s now unfolds in moments, courtesy of cloud servers and neural networks.

It’s a strange yet humbling contrast: from artificially impregnating cows and buffaloes to generating language in the ether. One sows the seeds of progress for soil-bound farmers’ livelihoods; the other harvests words across languages.

And if we think ahead to 2050?

If the world is still turning as we know it, who knows what wonders these two letters “AI” will conjure next—perhaps translating not just stories and blogs, but entire histories into dreams? We can only speculate… and smile at how far we’ve come.

Best wishes,

Shailendra

P.S. It was nice talking to you on the phone a short while ago. Once I have your comments on the edited English translation of this blog I will upload the same. I have already started work on the remaining two blogs. 

A Story from the Day Before Yesterday

एक कहानी परसों की

This is an incident from June-July 1970.

“Sahib, Anna has called for you,” Baban told me right from the doorway and then left. Baban was office peon at the Nature Cure Ashram in Uruli Kanchan, and Anna meant Dattoba Kanchan, whose message he had brought. Dattoba Kanchan was  overseeing the ashram’s agricultural farms and goshala (cowshed) department. He had asked me to come immediately.

I had finished the morning’s work at the goshala and returned to my room, where I was reading the newspaper after bathing. So, the thought crossed my mind: why had Dattoba called me? I quickly got ready and headed to his office. He was sitting inside, leaning back on a high bench. “Come in, Doctor,” he said, welcoming me. I greeted him with a namaskar. “Meet him,” Dattoba said. A young man was sitting in front of him. I too was just a 23-year-old youth. But even though the visitor was from a rural area, he was wearing white pajamas below and a well pressed long-sleeved shirt on top. He looked neat and clean. “This is Mohite-Patil…” Anna introduced him. “He’s come from Akluj,” he added.

By then MLA Mohite-Patil was a prominent name in the cooperative sector at that time. This young man seemed to be from the same family. “Doctor, a cow at his place has come into heat; go with him and perform insemination on her.” Dattoba instructed. “I’ve brought the car…” the young man said, addressing me. “We’ll drop you back later too.” That explanation was sufficient. I immediately agreed and got to preparing for the trip.

Insemination, meaning Artificial Insemination, came naturally. It was called AI, and it had been confirmed that through this artificial insemination, crossbred cows would be produced in the country, increasing their milk yield. At least back then, no one in our country knew any other meaning for the term AI. Anyway. In fifteen minutes, I was ready to leave. I took along a medium-sized liquid nitrogen container in which frozen semen—meaning frozen semen straws—were hung and stored. With the other equipment as well, I was set to depart. Around half-past nine, our journey began in the Ambassador car toward Akluj. It was about a 90 mile trip, and our conversation revolved around crossbred cows and AI.

At that time, artificial insemination centers were running through the Animal Husbandry Department, but there wasn’t much response from farmers. Secondly, in that program, the processed liquid semen doses were supplied using ice in thermoses. Against this backdrop, at the Nature Cure Ashram in Uruli Kanchan, the semen doses available from abroad were in frozen form and stored in liquid nitrogen at minus 196 degrees Celsius.

How this came about is also noteworthy. In fact, twenty years had passed since establishing a herd of purebred Gir cows at the Uruli Kanchan ashram, and during this period, some cows there had won awards in all-India competitions for daily milk production. Additionally, the ashram had received the “Gopalratna” honor. In such a situation, the question arose: why was frozen semen—and that too of foreign breeds—available for artificial insemination at that ashram? The answer was that while milk production had improved in the Gir cows there, challenges in finding suitable bulls for breeding led to some degree of inbreeding, causing reproductive issues like delayed conception, which increased the average calving interval and put the overall economics of the goshala at risk. Similarly, heifers reaching puberty late was another flaw. To address all these issues, ultimately, as an expedient measure, a pure scientific decision was made to introduce quality genes from foreign cow breeds into the Gir herd.

The one who had thought about this idea was Manibhai Desai. He had established the ashram-goshala himself. He had put in tremendous effort on the Gir breed. His idea came from experience and wasn’t superficial. Even more important was that he thought his efforts shouldn’t stop at Uruli Kanchan but should involve extensive initiatives to infuse milk production qualities along with superior reproductive traits into thousands of cows across India—this conviction of his had been solidified through study. He had founded the ‘Bharatiya Agro Industries Foundation’ and obtained frozen semen from Holstein and Jersey—these two foreign breeds—as donations from abroad, and services had begun extending beyond Uruli Kanchan.

Our journey continued, and so did our discussion. “Doctor, what is a proven bull ?” the young Mohite-Patil asked me curiously. “We call progeny-tested bull as ‘proven bull’ I replied.

This was another unique thing. By then, information about Manibhai Desai and his Bharatiya Agro Industries Foundation having brought frozen semen of proven bulls had spread far and wide, sparking tremendous curiosity about proven bulls. What Manibhai did was truly commendable. No one had heard of it before. Even I, in my veterinary science degree exam, had only written answers on such topics. Just a year later, here I was carrying doses of progeny-tested frozen semen in liquid nitrogen containers to perform artificial insemination—this was a great happening.“But still, what exactly does ‘proven’ mean?” he asked me. Then I gave a detailed explanation: traditionally, while selecting a bull, the method was to consider only how much milk its mother gave, but instead, when the quality of the bull is determined by measuring the milk from the daughters it sires, it’s called a “progeny-tested” bull.

To put it simply, basically, young bulls born from good lineages have their semen doses prepared and used in multiple places so that at least twenty to twenty-five or as many as possible daughters are born from each. They reach puberty by fourteen months, conceive, and by two years, start giving milk. Their first lactation yield is measured: how many days in one lactation, total milk given, peak yield, total kilos of fat, kilos of protein obtained—all this is known. Similarly, data from the second lactation comes in. Then, considering consistency in milk production, the daughters’ physical conformation, strong hooves and legs, and such factors, the daughters of which bull prove best determines that bull’s proven status. It takes four to five years for this proven status, but once proven, that bull’s semen is used to impregnate thousands of cows. By properly using statistics to produce superior cows, the economics of the dairy business changes; development happens generation after generation, so using proven bulls becomes crucial—I provided this information.

Amid such discussions, our journey ended, and we reached Akluj and went to his bungalow. After tea to freshen up, we immediately headed to the cowshed at the back, where quite a few animals were kept. There were farmhands, and a travis for restraining animals during treatment. Then, the cow in heat was shown to me. I asked them to bring her into the travis, examined her first, and then prepared for artificial insemination. I had all the equipment. I just needed some lukewarm water, which they provided. In no more than ten minutes, I finished the job and was free. There was no more work left. Still, they insisted I stay for lunch, so I did. After some time, lunch was had, and I even got a bit of rest afterward. About an hour and a half later, I set off to return. They arranged my ride back in the same Ambassador car I’d come in. The young person even asked, “Shall I come to see you off?” It was courtesy but that wasn’t necessary at all. I traveled the 90 miles distance back to Uruli Kanchan. For one Artificial Insemination on a cow, an Ambassador car ran 360 miles that day—this imprinted on my mind forever. But the importance of using foreign frozen semen to get crossbred offspring from native cows had dawned, that too on Mohite-Patil’s farm was to be underlined. Although, this service through the Foundation hadn’t yet started in his area, because due to limited resources, Akluj was to be included in the second phase.

Through Manibhai Desai’s efforts, many prominent figures were associated with his Foundation. Among them were leaders like Yashwantrao Chavan, Annasaheb P. Shinde, Vasantrao Naik, and industrialists like Yogendra Mafatlal. There was support from the central Agriculture Minister C. Subramaniam. State ministers like P.K. Sawant and Madhukarrao Chaudhary were like-minded. As a result, Manibhai could obtain all kinds of clearances and help from abroad as donations for this venture. Organizations like the Milk Marketing Board (England), American Breeders Association, Tasmania Breeders Association (Australia), DANIDA (Denmark), and Scottish Church Mission provided thousands of frozen semen doses, all  those from proven bulls and along with sets of necessary equipment and liquid nitrogen containers required to establish centers at least at ten to twelve places. The required liquid nitrogen was agreed to be supplied at discounted rates by Mumbai-based NOCIL and Indian Oxygen companies. To run these centers, the Foundation had initially appointed and trained twelve Veterinary Officers and I was one of them.

In this way, Manibhai Desai succeeded in creating a comprehensive system. Yet, to implement the said scheme, some mediums were necessary. The first among these were other goshalas like the one at Uruli Kanchan. Among them, institutions like Adarsh Dugdhalaya Malad, Mumbai Gosanrakshak Kandivli, Panchvati, Nashik, and Ahmednagar Panjrapol demanded the establishment of centers to follow Uruli Kanchan’s path. But more importantly, if there was some ready-made arrangement to take this scheme to the doorsteps of thousands of farmers, it would prove ideal. From that perspective, talks were held with cooperative sugar factories. It was possible for their thousands of members to raise crossbred cows and take up dairy as a side business. Instead of providing them with milch animals, getting crossbred offspring from their native cows was an easier way. The second advantage was that even if they had to wait months for payment for the sugarcane supplied to the factory, the money from milk sales would come regularly in hand within fixed periods, enabling the creation of a parallel economy in their area—this idea was convincing. Accordingly, many cooperative sugar factories agreed to establish centers to provide artificial insemination services right at farmers’ doorsteps to increase milk production. Among them, the sugar factories at Pravara Nagar, Shrirampur, and Kopargaon took the lead, and once centers started there, farmers’ response kept growing steadily. In this manner, through AI in native cows, the initiative to increase milk production on a large scale in Maharashtra began.

The Year was 1970.

---

Search

Search