Must Progress Always Cost Us Our Roots?

by Jayavanthi Gayathri Ravindran

The Festival of Pongal feels like cruel echoes of the past. Until 2030, it was a celebration of life. Farmers and labourers gathered every year, sharing food, singing, and celebrating the harvest we worked so hard to bring in. Now, those memories seem distant, overshadowed by something we didn’t understand: AI.

Back in 2025, the government launched Uzhavar GPT through the AI4AI initiative in Tamil Nadu, offering precision farming for all. The tool provided weather predictions, crop advice, pest control, and fertiliser recommendations. My landlord was one among the first to use it, teaching me how.

With the voice-call feature, I didn’t need to read or write Tamil. Yields improved, profits grew, and for a while, it felt like a blessing. For the first time, I could send my kids to school, have a decent meal and dream of something better.

But soon, the cracks appeared. Uzhavar GPT promoted high-yield crops, disregarding the health and nature of the soil. I warned my landlord the earth was growing tired, but he wouldn’t listen; profits mattered more. Other generational farmers shared my frustration. Our traditional knowledge was ignored by the younger generation, who trusted machines over our generational wisdom.

Now, in 2040, the soil is barren, harvests are failing, and biodiversity is nearly gone. Pongal is no longer a celebration; it’s a painful reminder of everything we’ve lost. The tools meant to uplift us have left us behind, and agricultural labourers like me have become irrelevant in a machine-driven world.

This isn’t the first time humanity has made such a choice. History repeats itself. But this time, I fear, If we’ve taught machines to carry our blind spots forward.