A-LA INSPIRATION

Working in Surendranagar district was always a challenge for us in AKRSP, especially in the mid to late eighties when, as an organization, we were still in the process of establishing ourselves and our credibility. Most of the staff were new and most in their early to mid twenties. There were some on secondment from the Gujarat state government. As expected, work ethics and work culture was drastically different between these two groups. These were the early days of ‘participation’ when Robert Chambers ( widely considered to be the guru of participatory approaches) had stared propounding the ‘rapid rural appraisal’ (or the popularly known RRA) techniques, but this did not resonate much with our government colleagues.

There were several other challenges. A deeply entrenched feudal culture dominated by the powerful Darbar community meant that initiating social mobilization processes was quite a challenge in itself. Tensions between the Koli Patels (a so-called backward caste / class group generally agriculturists and labourers) and the Rabari (also backward caste/class and traditional cattleherds) communities, especially over cattle grazing and the use of public lands was a contentious issue. Surendranagar was also one of the most drought prone districts of India. While I was with AKPSP, I witnessed one of the worst droughts the district had seen, the drought of 1987, which has followed two previous years of droughts, consecutively.

It was in this backdrop that we had made our first forays into Thoriyali, a village near the Sayala, the block headquarters. Though I can’t recollect the exact reasons why we went there, I vaguely recall that it had to do with the rather creditable performance of the village milk co-operative, something that one of my colleagues who came from the land of Amul (or the Anand Milk Union Limited, a district level federation of village milk co-operatives, which, through its successful processing and production facilities, became well known as the AMUL brand for milk and milk products and considered a success story globally in co-operative organisation of village level producers) and had a background of working with the National Dairy Development Board (NDDB), took a fancy for. My own background of having studied rural management in the neighbouring IRMA campus too attracted me to look at the milk co-operative. Those days, the District Rural Development Agency (popularly known as the DRDA) had a scheme of providing financial assistance to milk co-operatives to develop a portion of public lands as a fodder farm, if the local panchayat (local level governance unit) was willing and depending upon its feasibility such as quality of land, availability of water etc. For a drought prone district, with a large population of the cattleherd communities or Maldharis as they were locally known (consisting of two sub-communities, i.e. the Rabaris and the Bharvads) and hence, a heavy dependence on livestock as a primary or secondary source of livelihood, combined with deep-rooted traditional beliefs of caring for cattle (and especially the cows), developing a fodder farm that would enable the local families access green fodder throughout the year at reasonable rates was an attractive proposition. Thoriyali was recommended as one of the villages where a good fodder farm could develop as it had the essential pre-requisites – good land, potential water sources and a functioning milk co-operative. AKRSP agreed to put in supplementary support in form of bridge financing and technical support and help the co-operative society manage the farm in the initial stages.

Our initial interactions were, as expected, with the village leaders. As a Rabari dominated village, the elders were from this community. Among the Rabaris too, one particular family was influential. They owned the biggest house, had the most number of cattle, had leased in a stone crushing unit, owned a jeep and a couple of motorcycles and more importantly, wielded political clout. Respected (and possibly feared) by the rest in the village, this family controlled the affairs of the village. But as our visits increased and our contacts grew, the ‘second line’ became more visible.

This second line was very different from the elders. Aged between 14-24, many of them had at least a few years of schooling, which was significant considering that none of the elders had ever been to school. They had a slightly more 'modern' or 'cosmopolitan' outlook, spoke a smattering of Hindi, understood a few words of English, wore trousers and shirts (instead of the traditional dress worn by their elders, except on special occasions like weddings and other festivals). Moreover, they seemed to be a little more comfortable with us than the elders were, probably because as youngsters ourselves, we were closer in age to these youth and probably also because in us, they saw a generational representation. They often had lot of questions about our educational and professional background, about what we did to qualify with whatever degrees or diplomas we had and how we were picked up by AKRSP. They also wanted to know what they should be doing to get a government job (a big thing those days with assurance of a reasonably good pay packet and job security for life, as was the case then).

Of the lot, Alabhai stood out. A young, energetic guy in his mid-twenties, Alabhai was the friendliest of the lot. He stood out partly because of his confidence. A guy of an average build and height, he flaunted a stylish (step) hair cut. His ear studs, which he wore occasionally and his tattooed forearm with Lord Krishna’s motif and his own name provided the symbols of tradition to his otherwise ‘modern’ personality. His smile was bright and revealed a set of perfect teeth and his thick eyebrows knit in concentration while contemplating on what could be done in his village.

Alabhai was a force in his village. At his age, he was the Chairman of the village milk co-operative, which meant that he dealt regularly with the district level dairy officials. His position also brought him in contact with the local block level officials. He often met the local MLA to press for various schemes for his village. More importantly, he seemed to be a role model for the other youth in his village, who looked up to him, took instructions and extended their co-operation to whatever he initiated as a community activity. With equal ease, he related to the village elders, trying to convince them to bury their individual differences or differences between communities for a common cause. His father though was not often happy about his community level work as it meant that much less time for the family business, their farming and managing their cattle. But Alabhai had no qualms. He was confident that his brothers and cousins could help out his father, while he engaged more in community development initiatives.

When the work on the fodder farm started, Alabhai naturally took the lead, as it was under the auspices of the milk co-operative. Initially, there were several meetings. People had to be convinced about allowing a portion of the village commons to be fenced off for a fodder farm. The panchayat had to pass the necessary resolutions, which then needed the District Collector’s sanction. After this, the DRDA had to provide a technical sanction and an administrative sanction to ensure that funds under the relevant government programme was released. All this meant that with AKRSP, Alabhai had a lot of follow up to do at both the block level (who had to recommend the necessary approvals for their district level officials) and at the district level. It was always an asset to have Alabhai with us. In addition to providing the necessary information, Alabhai had his own way of dealing with the government officials in a firm, assertive manner, but with an enviable degree of diplomacy. He lent a certain credibility to our follow-up as he was a representative from the village and the Chairman of a successful milk co-operative.

Starting the fodder farm provided lot of challenges and opportunities to Alabhai. His administrative skills were put to good use as detailed accounts of money spent and all the supporting documentation had to be systematically maintained. His conflict resolution skills came to the fore as he often took the initiative to resolve several internal conflicts (including some with the neighbouring villages). He also performed an ambassador’s role. He often accompanied AKRSP staff to other villages where we were not known, addressing community meeting and exhorting them to plan for their village development. His youthfulness and energy infected those in the newer villages who often sought his advice on development opportunities in their respective villages.

At the height of the 1987 drought, with AKRSP’s support, he led in organizing a cattle camp to take care of the village cattle. This meant that in addition to running around for various approvals from the government, he travelled to south Gujarat hunting for good fodder sources. There are quite a few things that I recall about Alabhai and I was always amazed about how much he managed to do, in spite of his youth and the dominance of the elders in the village affairs. But one thing that he did was indeed spectacular, I thought.

This was a village meeting that we were having. He suggested that we could have it in the courtyard of his house that was quite spacious and could accommodate several people. It was a cold, wintry night. People filed in, covering themselves with blankets and trying to sit as close to the fire that was lit in the middle of the courtyard as possible. Since there was no electricity that day, faces were barely visible. In the dim light there, as people made themselves comfortable, I saw a group of people huddled near the entrance of the courtyard. They were not quite inside, but it was clear that they were not uninterested witnesses. They were here to participate in this meeting. A little while later, as Alabhai noticed them, he said, “Come inside and make yourselves comfortable. If you stand there, you won’t be able to participate.” A perfectly hospitable gesture, I thought, except that there were some murmurs from a section of the crowd. Not quite able to fathom the reluctance of those waiting outside, and the rather disconcerted response from a group within, I asked Alabhai what the matter was. “They are Harijans (dalits or untouchables)”, he said plainly, “and as per the general practice in the rural areas, they are not normally allowed inside our homes”. I could now understand what the issue was. Alabhai was, in his own way, trying to change the rules of the game. “But I want to change this all. How does it matter that they are Harijans ? They are people of this village. There is no problem when they supply milk to the milk co-operative. Why? Because it helps us show better collection figures, and hence, better bonus and profits. So why should anyone mind them coming and participating in a meeting”, he asked. Well, perfect logic. But then, a lot of what happens are not generally informed by logic and reason !

I happened to visit Thoriyali several years later, 12 years to be precise, in 2001, while I was on my way to Bhuj. I had spent a night on AKRSP’s campus in Sayala from where Thoriyali was just a stone’s throw away. As I made my way through the familiar dusty lanes from the main road into Thoriyali, dotted as they were with the ‘ganda baval’ (the thorny bush tree that grows in abundance in arid areas) shrubs and littered with cow dung, nothing much seemed to have changed. Some houses looked better, some houses were brightly painted, some lanes were laid with stones, there were more concrete structures, but a look at the people indicated that not much had changed.

As I made my way to meet Alabhai, I was led to a house behind the one that I was used to meeting him in – his father’s house. Alabhai had set up his own home in a fairly big house. As I entered, he looked at me, partly in disbelief, and partly rather unsure and hesitant of how he should greet me. Alabhai, I was told, and Thoriyali in general was no longer involved with AKRSP’s programmes after some problems with one of the AKRSP supported programmes in the village. That was disappointing though not entirely unanticipated. This was a common recurrence with many villages in the development process when, as programmes develop, NGOs tend to move on to other villages. The older villagers are either ‘graduated’ or there is a minimal contact with those villages. In some cases, this could also be due to some internal problems, as was the case with Thoriyali.

Alabhai hadn’t changed much. The lines on his forehead were deeper and he seemed leaner. Strands of grey hair were clearly visible. He eventually warmed up to my unannounced visit. It was clear that much of what had been initiated earlier had not really sustained. The milk co-operative, I was told, was functioning quite well, but the fodder farm had folded up. Alabhai himself had got out of his developmental pursuits in favour of his family business of stone crushing and other bits of contracting work. In the intermediate, he had also contested local elections but had not succeeded. All this was a bit disappointing as this was one village on which I had lot of hope. But a couple of years later, I realised that all was not, after all, lost.

I was visiting a DFID (UK Government's Department for International Development, where I worked for some time) supported project in western Madhya Pradesh as part of an annual review process in 2003. I was with the Gram Vikas Trust (GVT), an NGO that worked in some parts of Madhya Pradesh, Gujarat and Rajasthan. Just before one of the sessions was to begin in Ratlam where GVT’s team from the three states had assembled, I was told that someone from the Dahod (Gujarat) team wanted to meet me as he knew me. His name was Devsi, they said. The name, though sounding familiar, did not quite ring a bell. As we moved into the meeting room, I looked around for a face that may be familiar, that may belong to Devsi. None. The meeting started. At lunch break, a young man in his mid-twenties came towards me and greeted me. “Do you remember me”? he asked. I didn’t and was rather embarrassed. “I am Devsi and I am from Thoriyali”, he said. Yes, he now seemed faintly familiar. “I remember the time you used to visit our village very often. I was an adolescent then. I used to listen keenly to all the discussions in the meetings. I used to work alongside Haja (a young chap who used to work as the secretary of the milk co-operative) occasionally”, he continued. After completing his intermediate level schooling, he had pursued a Bachelors in Rural Sciences, a course offered by Lok Bharati, an autonomous institute founded by Gandhians in Bhavnagar district. He had then started working with GVT. “We were inspired by the young staff members who came from AKRSP. We then realised the value of education and that it was important to take academic seriously. We were constantly goaded by Alabhai to pursue our studies seriously as he felt it was important to do well in academics to be successful in life”. Devsi went on. He was excited, narrating all that had happened in his village, that had obviously escaped my notice during my brief visit earlier. And I was delighted to hear all that he had to say. From a time to hardly anyone completing secondary school, Thoriyali could now boast of quite a few graduates and several secondary school pass-outs, many of them girls. Devsi’s sister had completed her degree in law. Many other girls, after completing their intermediate school, had plans to pursue their graduation. This was truly a sign of progress. And Devsi was very clear. “Even if the fodder farm was not successful, I think the fact that we had, through you all, started interacting with the wider world early in our youth, spurred us to look for various options. I am happy to be working here as I can put my knowledge and learning to good use. And moreover, it helps me to work for communities that are not as fortunate as we were in Thoriyali”! he said.