Farmers Movement Archive

A road that opened way to good life for remote Shimla district

About a decade back, in one of the remotest regions of district Shimla, barter system was not uncommon. Money was in short supply, so villagers here preferred to offer grains in lieu of cash for any labour. Cut to 2018. A farmer from one of the around 20 villages comprising this region, falling in the catchment area of river Giri and bordering district Sirmour, sold tomatoes worth around Rs 20 lakh! “The man belongs to our family,” says Sewak Ram, a former pradhan of the Satlai panchayat. “There are five to six households of our family in the village. Collectively, we earned roughly around Rs1crore from tomatoes alone,” he said, shuffling in his plastic chair placed right at the edge of a vast expanse of fertile land, surrounded by mountains from all sides. A large portion of the field is covered by about six to eight feet high poles — tomato vines climb up on these poles — while the other half is in use for growing vegetables like cauliflower, cabbage, etc.“On an average, every household earns at least Rs5-10 lakh every year by selling tomatoes alone,” said Sewak Ram, reiterating the stunning economic transformation of the region. This collective poverty to prosperity story is indeed remarkable. That it panned out in a decade or so makes it even more spectacular. So, what triggered this transformation?Well, prosperity rushed in here at a breakneck speed through narrow and winding dirt roads. “The region had no road connectivity until towards the end of the first decade of this century,” informs Sant Ram of Kuthar village. “Road reached Dharech (a small place about 10 to 15 km from various villages of the region) 40 years back, but not an inch was added to it all these years.” Fortunately, in 2006, under the Pradhan Mantri Gram Sadak Yojna, the long-stuck road got a green signal, and it ran down right through the middle of the region. Having waited for decades, the desperate people lost no time in drawing out link roads to their villages, some up the hill, some down. It wasn’t easy though. “After every km or so, the driver of the bulldozer would start throwing tantrums,” recalls Vidya Nand, pradhan of the Satog panchayat.The wait was indeed long, but the change was instant. Their crops changed first, their lives next. People switched to cash crops like tomatoes, capsicum and cauliflower from wheat, maize and potato, once they got access to mandis. Soon, cash started flowing in, old mud and wood houses gave way to more comfortable homes equipped with modern amenities, and vehicles lined up outside. “Even in our wildest dreams, we hadn’t thought that we would live the life we are living today. These link roads have turned around our lives, and that of our children for good,” says Raj Kumar Sharma, a Panchayat auditor, while leaning on his car parked right outside his house. There was a time, not too long back, when he had to leave his house at around 3 am in the morning and walk around 15 km to catch the only bus that left at 7.30 am for Shimla!One lifetime, two lives“In my 45 years on the earth, I have already lived two different lives, one before the road and one after it,” says Sharma. It may sound incredible but he is not exaggerating, not even one bit. Picture this: he spent a considerable part of his childhood without electricity. “Until I was around 10, there was no electricity. We would study in the light of firewood in the evening, mother would cook and elderly would spin wool. Even kerosene was unaffordable, was used only in emergencies,” Sharma recalls. And then, on finishing the primary school in his village, he would walk around 15 km to and from the nearest high school.  And later, in his youth, he would climb a mountain, roughly 15 km, with a sack of chillies or anardana on his back to reach the road, from where the produce would be transported to mandis. “Even after walking for more than three hours up the mountain, with a sack on our back, there was no guarantee our produce would get to the mandi the same day,” Sharma says. “Bus was the only mode of transport to take our produce to the market. There was just one bus on that route, and sometimes the bus driver wouldn’t stop at all. In that case, we would move our sacks slightly away from the road and wait for the bus until next day. Often, people had to bribe the driver to stop.”Now, only a few old mud and wood houses stand as a proof of the deprived life people lived until a decade back. “Almost everyone had small houses with mostly two rooms and a kitchen,” says Sewak Ram. For roofing, people had to rely on thick and random-shaped slates from the river ‘khud’, which allowed water to seep in, unlike the well-chiselled slates used elsewhere. “Every time it rained, one person had to rush on to the roof to try and fix the multiple leaks. In no time, our rooms would get inundated,” recalls Sewak Ram, throwing a glance at the now tinned roof of his house. Not surprisingly, almost every house here has been built anew, or renovated in the past couple of years.People have been quick to adopt mechanised way of agriculture. Several activities like tilling and grass-cutting, which were done manually, are done using machines now. Many are practising even drip irrigation. “We even have a couple of tractors in our village,” says Vidya Nand, with an unmistakable hint of pride.Raj Kumar SharmaEven in our wildest dreams, we hadn’t thought that we would live the life we are living today. These link roads have turned around our lives, and that of our children for good.Women empowermentAmong several gifts these serpentine roads brought to these villages, access to education is probably the most valuable. Because of poverty and absence of schools nearby, only a handful could study beyond Class V or VIII.  Girls, in particular, were adversely affected. “Because of the lack of education, our area suffered a lot. There’s hardly anyone on any big post from here,” rues Sant Ram. Things have, however, changed for the better quite rapidly in the past few years. “Now, most of the girls from here reach college,” says Saroj Thakur, who recently completed her post-graduation. Bimla Verma, a Deputy Ranger in the Forest Department, is delighted to see this change. “I was probably the first girl from this area to do matriculation when girls were either not sent to school at all or were withdrawn from school after Class V,” says Bimla.“My mother, too, wanted me to drop out like most girls after Class V but somehow I just carried on.” Of course, it was far from a walk in the park. Lack of support and encouragement from the family and society aside, meagre financial resources, too, posed quite a challenge. “I would get just one dress and one pair of shoes for the entire year. Fearing the shoes would not last a year if I used these regularly, I would walk barefoot to the school, holding the shoes in my hands,” says Bimla. “And, of course, I had to help out in chores like collecting firewood, grass for cattle and in the fields like all other members of the family.”Overall, people are extremely relieved and happy to see their once ‘backward’ place catching up with the more developed areas. “Not just our place, even the people living here were considered backward,” says Vidya Nand. “People tried their best to dissuade my in-laws from marrying off their daughter into our area? ‘Why would you want to marry your daughter with someone hailing from such a backward area?’ they would tell them.”“By the way, we have four buses driving in and out of our area every day, and connecting us to Shimla and Solan. Incidentally, there’s no bus service yet to the village of my in-laws,” he says, having a hearty laugh. Or, more aptly, the last laugh!

The Tribune

2020-05-17