India won freedom 60 years ago, but the Indian kisan has now become a slave in his own country.” Harsh words. They were spoken by Nagi Reddy, a sugarcane grower from Mumbojipalli in Medak district in Andhra Pradesh. “Every other producer of a commodity determines its selling price. The only unfortunate exception is the farmer; the price of his produce is decided not by him but by the buyer.” Scores of hands clapped in assent.
Both the place and the occasion for expressing this grievance were significant. Some 50-odd farmers from Telangana in Andhra Pradesh had gathered under a tree near Gandhiji’s Samadhi at Rajghat on October 2. They had come marching from Jantar Mantar, where they had been sitting on a dharna, both to pay homage to the Mahatma and to highlight that his dream of ‘Gram Swaraj’ has turned into a cruel joke for India’s grameen janata.
“More and more farmers in Telangana, especially those with small landholdings, are committing suicide, unable to bear the burden of debt as well as the heavier burden of humiliation and injustice at every step,” said D. Vasant Kumar, a young man in his early twenties who was leading the agitation. “People in Delhi do not know the gravity of the crisis facing the farmers.”
Vasant, indeed, was the reason for my frequent visits to Jantar Mantar last week. He and his three young colleagues were on an indefinite hunger-strike, which had entered the fifth day on Gandhi Jayanti. They had embarked on this protest action soon after concluding their ‘Kisan Azadi Pad Yatra’, all the way from Medak to Delhi, covering a distance of 1,840 kms on foot in 54 days. I was humbled when they came to see me first on reaching Delhi.
I had known Vasant in a different avatar ? as a student at the MIT School of Government in Pune, a prestigious institute that trains young men and women to take up leadership roles in politics and administration. I was invited by Rahul Karad, the school’s young founder, to give a lecture there about two years ago. Vasant could have chosen more alluring career options after graduating from Pune, but he decided, instead, to mobilise the farmers of his district.
India needs such young leaders, who are not tempted by fat five-figure salaries to live a “good life”, but are fired by a desire to do something to change the blighted lives of millions of fellow-Indians.
My interactions with the farmers from Telangana reinforced a belief that catastrophic developments are taking place in Indian agriculture, about which our ruling economic and political elite neither knows nor cares. Small and medium farmers, especially in rain-fed areas like Telangana, are getting debt-ridden? and, as a consequence of which, are being dispossessed of their meagre landholdings ? at an alarming rate. With agriculture becoming less and less remunerative, even big farmers in these areas are no longer in a position to remain wealthy solely on the basis of farm income. No wonder, many are turning to the real-estate business.
Here are some of the grievances I heard from the Telangana farmers, which, with some variations, are common to their counterparts elsewhere in the country:
• With the water-table going down, farmers are forced to dig their bore wells deeper, incurring higher costs
• Power supply is woefully inadequate and erratic
• Spurious seeds are flooding the market and selling at astronomical prices
• Bank credit is untimely, insufficient and troublesome, compelling kisans to turn to private money-lenders
The next grievance is something that demands the attention of Rahul Gandhi, who was recently credited with the UPA government’s decision to extend the coverage of the National Rural Employment Guarantee Programme to the entire country. Small and medium kisans face severe labour shortage at critical times of farm operations, a problem made worse by NREGA.
“It’s sweet-poison for agriculture since NREGA has distorted the organic relationship between the farmer and farm-labourer,” says Vasant. “Why can’t they modify NREGA’s guidelines so that khet mazdoors can work on small and medium kisans’ farms when required and earn higher wages?”
Those unfamiliar with farming cannot imagine how joyless it has become. For example, the mere task of sending the sugarcane to the factory becomes an extremely distressing experience. Small farmers face enormous uncertainty about when, and whether, the factory will lift their cane. When they finally get the crushing order, the gang leader who brings migrant labourers to cut the cane demands hefty baksheesh, over and above the wages. If it is not paid, the cane remains uncut on the field. The truck-driver demands his own pound of flesh. Sometimes, the farmer ends up paying 50-60 per cent of what he receives from the factory only on cane-cutting and transportation. To make matters worse, the factory, which decides the cane price, never makes the full payment after purchasing it. The farmer receives his dues in agonising installments.
“Is there any surprise,” asked Vasant, “that more and more sugarcane farmers in Telangana are committing suicide?”
Both the place and the occasion for expressing this grievance were significant. Some 50-odd farmers from Telangana in Andhra Pradesh had gathered under a tree near Gandhiji’s Samadhi at Rajghat on October 2. They had come marching from Jantar Mantar, where they had been sitting on a dharna, both to pay homage to the Mahatma and to highlight that his dream of ‘Gram Swaraj’ has turned into a cruel joke for India’s grameen janata.
“More and more farmers in Telangana, especially those with small landholdings, are committing suicide, unable to bear the burden of debt as well as the heavier burden of humiliation and injustice at every step,” said D. Vasant Kumar, a young man in his early twenties who was leading the agitation. “People in Delhi do not know the gravity of the crisis facing the farmers.”
Vasant, indeed, was the reason for my frequent visits to Jantar Mantar last week. He and his three young colleagues were on an indefinite hunger-strike, which had entered the fifth day on Gandhi Jayanti. They had embarked on this protest action soon after concluding their ‘Kisan Azadi Pad Yatra’, all the way from Medak to Delhi, covering a distance of 1,840 kms on foot in 54 days. I was humbled when they came to see me first on reaching Delhi.
I had known Vasant in a different avatar ? as a student at the MIT School of Government in Pune, a prestigious institute that trains young men and women to take up leadership roles in politics and administration. I was invited by Rahul Karad, the school’s young founder, to give a lecture there about two years ago. Vasant could have chosen more alluring career options after graduating from Pune, but he decided, instead, to mobilise the farmers of his district.
India needs such young leaders, who are not tempted by fat five-figure salaries to live a “good life”, but are fired by a desire to do something to change the blighted lives of millions of fellow-Indians.
My interactions with the farmers from Telangana reinforced a belief that catastrophic developments are taking place in Indian agriculture, about which our ruling economic and political elite neither knows nor cares. Small and medium farmers, especially in rain-fed areas like Telangana, are getting debt-ridden? and, as a consequence of which, are being dispossessed of their meagre landholdings ? at an alarming rate. With agriculture becoming less and less remunerative, even big farmers in these areas are no longer in a position to remain wealthy solely on the basis of farm income. No wonder, many are turning to the real-estate business.
Here are some of the grievances I heard from the Telangana farmers, which, with some variations, are common to their counterparts elsewhere in the country:
• With the water-table going down, farmers are forced to dig their bore wells deeper, incurring higher costs
• Power supply is woefully inadequate and erratic
• Spurious seeds are flooding the market and selling at astronomical prices
• Bank credit is untimely, insufficient and troublesome, compelling kisans to turn to private money-lenders
The next grievance is something that demands the attention of Rahul Gandhi, who was recently credited with the UPA government’s decision to extend the coverage of the National Rural Employment Guarantee Programme to the entire country. Small and medium kisans face severe labour shortage at critical times of farm operations, a problem made worse by NREGA.
“It’s sweet-poison for agriculture since NREGA has distorted the organic relationship between the farmer and farm-labourer,” says Vasant. “Why can’t they modify NREGA’s guidelines so that khet mazdoors can work on small and medium kisans’ farms when required and earn higher wages?”
Those unfamiliar with farming cannot imagine how joyless it has become. For example, the mere task of sending the sugarcane to the factory becomes an extremely distressing experience. Small farmers face enormous uncertainty about when, and whether, the factory will lift their cane. When they finally get the crushing order, the gang leader who brings migrant labourers to cut the cane demands hefty baksheesh, over and above the wages. If it is not paid, the cane remains uncut on the field. The truck-driver demands his own pound of flesh. Sometimes, the farmer ends up paying 50-60 per cent of what he receives from the factory only on cane-cutting and transportation. To make matters worse, the factory, which decides the cane price, never makes the full payment after purchasing it. The farmer receives his dues in agonising installments.
“Is there any surprise,” asked Vasant, “that more and more sugarcane farmers in Telangana are committing suicide?”