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By Vikas Yadav
The residents of Sohangarh, in dry Rajasthan, are unperturbed by recurrent drought in their state. Thanks to the restoration and regeneration of common pasturelands they enjoy healthy agricultural yields and even have money to spare for the all-round development of their village
 Sohangarh in Deogarh block, Rajsamand district, Rajasthan, defies all stereotypes of a desert village. It’s in a state that’s facing its seventh consecutive drought. But the residents here are not leaving the village, the farms are all green and women do not have to venture far for water. “The productivity of my farms is continuously increasing,” says 70-year-old Vaen Singh. “I am getting used to a non-desert life.” Most of Sohangarh’s 838 residents agree with Vaen.
Events in Sohangarh took a magical turn a little over a decade ago. Before this the village was just another barren stretch of land abandoned by its owners.
The key to the village’s economic turnaround was the revival of 25 hectares of common pastureland. Chronic drought had ravaged farmlands in the area, drastically reducing agricultural yields and forcing residents to rear livestock and migrate seasonally in order to earn a livelihood. The villagers’ single source of fodder and fuelwood -- the common pasturelands -- was out of bounds. “At that point of time, the pastureland was the only hope of survival,” says Lal Singh, a resident who would later lead the village’s drive towards ecological regeneration.
The common lands, however, were in the absolute control of Hari Singh, a local landlord, who had illegally occupied a major portion of the property. Hari Singh would penalise residents who ‘trespassed’ and grazed cattle on ‘his’ land -- a watershed area for the entire village. Despite this restricted use, the land became substantially denuded, triggering an ecological disaster and affecting the single agricultural crop of the villagers.
In 1987, Sohangarh faced its worst drought in a century. That was when, for the first time, its residents demanded community control over common lands. They marked out 25 hectares and asked the district administration for ownership to regenerate it. Bhanwar Singh and Lal Singh took the lead. It was like waging a war against a feudal lord. “Fear of attack was always in my head,” says Lal Singh. Soon all the villagers joined in, demanding control over the land.
Submitting to the rising demand the government set up a committee to look into the matter. But the move was strongly opposed by the forest department which believed the people would not be able to regenerate the land as they had no experience in forest management. “We lost hope as few of our residents also opposed our campaign. But then the collector supported the village’s demand,” says Shankar Singh of the Mazdoor Kisan Shakti Sangathan (MKSS), a local voluntary organisation supporting Sohangarh’s plea. In 1989, formal ownership was transferred to the Shramik Mahila Van Vikas Samiti (SMVVS), a women’s group formed to manage the land.
One person from each of the 80 families volunteered their labour to erect a boundary wall around the pastureland. “Cautious of cost we took steps to keep it minimal. Stones used in the wall were quarried from nearby rocks,” says Mohni Devi, chairperson of the SMVVS. The villagers did all the work without any help from an external agency, except some technical advice from the voluntary organisation Social Works and Research Council.
In 1992, the Wasteland Development Board extended a sum of Rs 1.73 lakh to the SMVVS. The money was used to pay daily wages, as 1992 was a severe drought year. Still, the villagers decided to collect a cess on each day’s wage, to put a village conservation fund in place. “The SMVVS collected a surcharge of Rs 2 on each day of labour, totalling Rs 21,000, which was deposited in a bank. This money is used for different activities now,” says Mohni.
 In just over a decade the pastureland has completely regenerated and looks like a small dense forest. A democratically elected chairperson, coordinator, secretary and treasurer manage forest conservation and other related activities of the 100-member-strong SMVVS. To ensure the equal distribution of forest produce among members, entry is allowed on specified dates only. A membership fee to the SMVVS, of Rs 10, is charged for entry into the forest. Anyone found violating the rules -- unauthorised grass cutting or logging -- is fined a hefty Rs 500. Members of the SMVVS keep a constant watch for violations and unauthorised entry.
Vaen Singh insists that the regeneration of pastureland has completely changed the ecology of the village. With increasing water-holding capacity, his once-arid two hectares of land now give him a minimum of two crops a year. “It is unbelievable,” he says. He also gets his share of 32 tonnes of grass and 20 tonnes of wood from the forests every year.
Lal Singh, who could barely manage food and clothing for his family of five, even after toiling in the hot sun on his two-hectare infertile plot, now produces 15 to 16 bags of maize a year on the very same land. He doesn’t need to cycle long distances carrying heavy milk cans to supplement his income anymore. Despite the unfavourable climatic conditions of the desert, crop production in Sohangarh has gone up three to five times.
Last year, the Rajasthan government put crop losses due to drought in the district at around 80-85%. But the farmers of Sohangarh had enough water and fodder even for their cattle. “We have enough fodder to feed our cattle. We do not have to harvest grass from the pastureland,” claims Bhanwar Singh.
 From the money collected from residents for entry into the small forest, the villagers have a healthy bank balance of Rs 87,000. The SMVVS extends non-interest loans to other committees established for the development of the village, like health and sanitation and lift irrigation projects. “After lending Rs 38,000 to the Jal and Swasthya Committee we have a balance of Rs 87,000,” says a confident Mohni. The Jal and Swasthya Samiti overlook water supply, sanitation and other civic facilities in the village. It charges Rs 35 per connection for the maintenance and upkeep of water tanks and pipes. More than half the buildings in the village have roof rainwater harvesting facilities. The villagers claim they have not had to touch their wells for almost a year and are storing natural water in them for future use.
Not content with the ecological regeneration and its economic fallout, the village carries out an annual economic survey to track village spending and to advise people on how to spend their hard-earned money.
The first survey during March-April 2004 proved an eye-opener: while the village’s per capita income per month was Rs 600, expenses totalled Rs 613. What was shocking was that each resident was spending close to Rs 77 on alcohol and tobacco every month, while expenditure on education stood at around Rs 18. For the village it is now time to introspect; the residents have decided to start a campaign for prohibition and a tobacco-free village.
(Vikas Yadav is a freelance journalist based in Delhi . He worked earlier with the environment and development fortnightly Down to Earth)
InfoChange News & Features, January 2005
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