Village for sale
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COMMENTS 
The village of Dorli in Vidarbha, Maharashtra, has put itself up for sale -- land, homes, livestock, everything. Is it only a form of collective protest? Or, as agricultural yields drop, input costs rise, and loans pile up, their only hope for a life of dignity? A special report from the village
To the bureaucracy, it is at best a tactic for making a point and at worst a stunt to gain attention. To social activists, it is a form of collective protest, a positive move in the right direction, but what finally comes of it remains to be seen. To the urban layperson, it is one more 'political' spectacle.
But for the residents of Dorli, a tiny village comprising 40 agricultural families and a population of 270, in the Wardha district of Maharashtra, putting their village up for sale is the only practical, feasible alternative to suicide -- the only hope of a life of dignity and a meaningful future for their children.
Dorli is like any other village in Vidarbha -- tidy homesteads with mangalore-tile roofs, swept courtyards and brush fences. Chicken and children running about, and men and women relaxing on cots in the lazy winter afternoon sunshine. All this surrounded by fields of scraggy cotton plants sporting one, or at the most two, bolls each.
The only difference is the cloth banner at the entrance of the village and the notices painted on every wall - 'This village is for sale'. Land, homes, animals, are all for sale."Do you think we are trying to send a message or make a point?" Asks Dharampal Jarunde. "I tell you we are not. We can't afford to sit here making points and hoping someone will notice. We really want to sell the village. Because we can't commit suicide."
Talking about how they arrived at their unique decision, villagers say that on December 8, the entire village had sat glued to the radio, with the hope that the support price of cotton would be raised in Chief Minister Vilasrao Deshmukh's much-publicised 'package' for the farmers of Vidarbha.
"But there was nothing of that sort in the package," says Mohan Halule, one of the informal leaders in the village. "The election manifesto had promised free electricity, loan waiver and Rs 2,700 per quintal support price for cotton, but all that the package had, in real terms, was upto Rs 25,000 waiver on loan interest."
On December 11, all the adults in the village, men and women, gathered together. "We considered our situation and realised that it was impossible for us to survive as farmers," says Sujata, the only panchayat member from the village, "And we decided that the only thing to do was to sell the village, go to the city and take up some small trade." The formal announcement of the village being for sale came on December 12.
The woes of the village are not very different from those of other villages in Vidarbha. The economic downslide began in 1998, with a hailstorm that ruined the cotton crop. In the drought years that followed, the yields fell steadily, while the cost of production rose with the rising prices of inputs. Loans piled up, and even the occasional good crop did not fetch a price proportionate with the cost of production.
"This year the cost of cotton cultivation has gone up to Rs 4,000-6,000 per acre in some cases," says Pandit Shankar Mohite, "But the yield came down to barely 1 quintal per acre due to heavy rain and consequent outbreaks of disease."
The three farmers who planted BT cotton this year are also disillusioned. "We had to shell out Rs 1,750 per acre for seed right at the beginning. Add to that electricity, fertiliser and insecticide (even the BT crop had to be sprayed this year). Where do we stand with the government offering a measly Rs 1,800 per quintal?" says Halule, one of the BT planters.
The last straw is the huge burden of bank loans under which the fragile economies of these families are struggling. And the way the interest is piling up, say the villagers, makes the government's favourite whipping boy, the moneylender, look like an angel. "Twenty years ago my father-in-law borrowed Rs 10,000," says Anita Chambhare, "Till date we have paid Rs 35,000, but the bank says we still owe Rs 25,000." Mohile had borrowed Rs 1,800 10 years ago, and has till date paid Rs 7,200. Still, some amount is pending against him. Bhimrao Halule borrowed Rs 15,000 in 1985. After paying Rs 10,000 till date, the bank says he still has Rs 25,000 to pay. Mohan Halule had borrowed Rs 27,000 for a well, out of which Rs 9,000 was government subsidy. Till date he has paid Rs 60,000, but still has Rs 24,000 outstanding against him.
The villagers have taken loans from three banks - the Bhoovikas Bank, the Cooperative Society Bank and the Bank of Baroda, but owe nothing to moneylenders.
Interestingly, when this correspondent approached District Collector S Chokalingam for a comment on the loan situation, the latter said that in his investigations in coordination with the lead bank officer of the district, he had found that the bank loan records are in perfect order. "My findings do not coincide with the villagers' complaints," he said.
The villagers hotly contend this statement. "This is happening to us," says Jarunde, "We have asked the banks on what basis they were charging such exorbitant amounts from us. But they don't give us clear replies, nor do they show us records."
The banks, particularly the Bhoovikas Bank, have resorted to intimidation techniques for recovery, allege the villagers. Arbitrary seizing of goods and levying of fines is common. "They take away anything," says Anita, "Whether it is a utility item like a TV or fan, or even a sack of grain or cotton. They use threatening language, and when the men are not available in the house, they intimidate the women too."
"Nearly all of us have had to pay fines to recover goods taken away by the banks," says Jarunde, "And we have found that there is no record of the money taken as fine. Also, the banks pile up many arbitrary charges, like surcharge, traveling and documentation. There are no proper records for these charges."
Notices for confiscation of land have also been issued against most of the villagers by the banks. Till date no one has had land actually seized by a bank, but many have been forced to sell land to pay off portions of their loans. Murlidhar Chambhare, for instance, has had to sell 3 acres of land recently.
One problem that distinguishes this village from others is its total dependence on agriculture for livelihood. Out of the 40 families, 39 own between 4 and 10 acres of land. The single landless family depends on agricultural work in the village for livelihood.
"This year, all our women have lost their livelihoods," says Durga Jarunde. "There is no cotton-picking work, no other agricultural work for us."
The women of the village have also had to disband the two self-help groups that they had organised after the banks refused them loans because their husbands were defaulters. Says Sujata, "Why should we women be punished for our husbands' loans? Our agriculture is already destroyed. Without loans we can't even start any other business. So what use are our SHGs?"
The district administration has reacted to the village's predicament with typical apathy. Till December 22, when this correspondent contacted the district authorities, the district agriculture officer had not yet visited the village. The discourse in official circles is little better than a blame game. The Collector, Chokalingam, told this correspondent that the people of Dorli had not shown any willingness to take advantage of the work offered by the government under the Employment Guarantee Scheme (EGS) and Swarna Jayanti Graamin Rozgar schemes because they find the wage of Rs 25 and 5 kg of grain "too little".
"Why don't the officials speak the truth?" demands Vijay Jawandhia of the Shetkari Sanghatana. "Work under these schemes is given at long distances from the village. Also, most of the wage is in grain, which the farmer cannot sell in the market for a good price. So what use is such a wage?"
"It is not just about food," says Durga. "We can go on surviving somehow even without EGS. But what about our children's education? What about employment for our young? We don't need just food. We need good wages. We need a life of dignity. No one seems to understand that."
Since December 13, when the media first broke the story, the villagers have received several offers. Politicians Dutta Meghe and Raj Thackeray offered jobs to the youth. Others came with offers of Jatropha cultivation and cultivation of ayurvedic herbs. "But no one is willing to do anything now," says Jarunde, "And no one will give anything in writing."
Asked what they see their protest as achieving for their village, the villagers sounded singularly despondent. "Who will listen to us?" says Anita, "Every year there are farmers' agitations, who listens? The prices of trade goods rise every year, and the prices of agricultural produce fall. The price of inputs goes on rising. No, just find us a good, big corporate buyer who is willing to buy up the whole village at one go and gives us a good price."
"In the city, even a rickshaw puller or a vegetable seller can educate his children," says Halule, "But a farmer can't hope to survive with dignity any more."
Talking about the unique decision taken by the people of Dorli, Jaideep Hardikar, a journalist who has done extensive work on the agrarian crisis in Vidarbha, says, "What the people of Dorli have done is a positive step, a saner and more organised protest as compared to individual suicides (there have been a spate of farmer suicides in recent years in India following the agricultural crisis). It is a first step towards more organised, effective protest, even if it is a small one. In the long run, it might start a thinking process among the farming community, which might throw up solutions. In the short run, perhaps the village will succeed in wresting some aid from the government."
But the villagers pooh-pooh the idea of relief. "We don't need relief," says Halule, "All our problems will be solved if the government does just one thing - gives us a fair support price for our goods. All other problems will take care of themselves automatically. But will they ever do that?"
(Aparna Pallavi is a freelance journalist based in Nagpur, Maharashtra. She reports on development and rights issues.)
InfoChange News & Features, December 2005