Purusottam Thakur

Sharmila Joshi

Editor

large_01-DSC02982-PT-So_we_are_struggling_here.jpg

medium_01-DSC02982-PT-So_we_are_struggling_here.jpg

small_01-DSC02982-PT-So_we_are_struggling_here.jpg

thumbnail_01-DSC02982-PT-So_we_are_struggling_here.jpg

01-DSC02982-PT-So_we_are_struggling_here.jpg

“I am cooking food for the people
who have brought us here. My husband is helping them in making bricks,” says
Urvashi, who we come across in the brick kilns of Hyderabad. We are surprised to see Degu
Dharua, around 61, and Urvashi Dharua, around 58, at the kilns. The couple is from
Pandrijor village in Belpara
gram
panchayat in western Odisha’s Bolangir
district. This is among the poorest parts of the country. People in western Odisha – from
where I have been reporting extensively for over two decades – have been
migrating for more than 50 years.  The
region was infamous for starvation, hunger-driven deaths and the distress sale
of children – among other outcomes of poverty and policy. In 1966-67, a famine-like situation
drove the migration. In the ’90s, when there was a severe drought in Kalahandi, Nuapada, Bolangir
and other districts, it again pushed up migrations. At that time, we had
noticed that those who could do manual labour went to other states in search of
work, while the elderly stayed back in the villages.

02-PT-So_we_are_struggling_here.png

“They were left behind because of many reasons. Those who left the village had to work hard. The brick kilns [where many migrants find work]  require work day and night, and old people cannot work so hard,” says Bishnu Sharma, an advocate and human rights activist who has closely observed Odisha migrations for decades. He is based in Kantabanji in Bolangir district – Kantabanji  is the main railway station from where people take the train to migrate to various destinations, including the brick kilns of Telengana and Andhra Pradesh.   “So no [kiln] owner would pay advance money [for elderly workers],” Sharma adds. “They also stayed back to look after the home, the kids left behind and to collect the rations. And those old people who had no one, they suffered.”But over the decades, the distress conditions of the 1966-2000 period have improved to some extent, mainly due to social security schemes, including pensions for the elderly and for widows. And for a decade at least there have been no reports of starvation-related deaths. This is largely due to the Rs.2 per kilo subsidised rice scheme launched in Odisha since August 2008 for people living below the poverty line, which was lowered to Re. 1 in 2013 ( for up to 25 kilos per family per month).So what made Urvashi and Degu Dharua come to Hyderabad looking for work at the kilns, when even in the distress decades people their age didn’t migrate to do such hard manual labour?

03-PT-So_we_are_struggling_here.png

“We have two daughters and both are married. Now we are lonely… We are marginal farmers [growing paddy or cotton, and the crop didn&#39;t do well this year].  And no one is there to look after us…” Urvashi says.  “When we were young, we came to this brick kiln twice – a long time ago. And now our situation has forced us to come here again,” Degu says. “In the past, when I came to the kilns to work, we were given an advance of 500-1,000 rupees at most. Now the advance per person can be Rs.20, 000 or more.” Degu says the relatives who brought them to the kiln took Rs. 20,000 from the kiln owner but gave him only Rs. 10,000.The advance is usually against five to six months of work – people from the villages come to the kilns after the harvest (around January-February) and return before the monsoon starts, around June. “After coming here and because of my age and poor health, I changed my mind,” Degu says. “I wanted to refund the advance money to the labour contractor and return to our village since it is very hard work here. But the kiln owner refused to accept our proposal. Instead, I was asked to provide a replacement. From where we will get one? So we are struggling here.”

04-PT-So_we_are_struggling_here.png

While he talks, Degu is helping the younger labourers from his village to dry the bricks, and Urvashi is cooking lunch – rice and a vegetable – for the group on a wood fire, inside makeshift houses the workers have built near the kiln.  The Dharuas tell us about their problems only after a long conversation.We later visited a few more brick kilns in Telengana, but did not come across an elderly couple in any of them.  “They look so weak,” Sharma said about the Dharuas, “and now they are in this trap [having taken an advance]. This is pathetic and the reality of migration.”

‘We are lonely now...’

‘ఇప్పుడు మేము ఒంటరివాళ్ళం…’

'ഞങ്ങൾ ഇപ്പോൾ ഒറ്റയ്ക്കാണ്'

'ಈಗ ನಾವು ಒಬ್ಬಂಟಿಗಳಾಗಿದ್ದೇವೆ…'

‘ਅਸੀਂ ਇਕੱਲੇ ਰਹਿ ਗਏ ਹਾਂ...’

‘இப்போது நாங்கள் தனியாக இருக்கிறோம்……’

‘আমরা এখন একদম একা...’

‘ଆମେ ଏବେ ନିଃସଙ୍ଗ ...’

“आमचं आता कुणी नाही...”

‘এতিয়া আমি অকলশৰীয়া...’

‘हम अब अकेले हैं...’

’ہم اب اکیلے ہیں۔۔۔‘

Hyderabad

At present, we can only accept donations in Indian rupees by Indian citizens. All donations made to the CounterMedia Trust are eligible for exemption under Section 80G of the Income Tax Act, 1961. Here is a copy of our exemption certificate.


India is bigger than New Delhi. And people need to know more about the rest of this vast nation.


Younger, media-saturated generations are growing up knowing little about their country, but a lot about the elites of a few metros and towns. For a narrowly-owned, commercially-driven media, the dumbing down of a nation is part of standard operating procedure. The last available data of the Centre for Media Studies (CMS, Delhi) show us that reports from New Delhi account for 66 per cent of news on the front pages of major dailies. The CMS data also found that just about 0.24 per cent of front page news came out of rural India. The TV channels are not much better.PARI exists to change that.We are a non-profit organisation. We publish under creative commons, and do not charge readers a subscription fee or put-up advertisements. Nothing is behind a paywall and we are completely free-to-access by anyone. We guard our independence and receive no direct grants from governments and corporations, nor any funding that could dictate our content. So, we are dependent on volunteer labour, donations from individuals, foundations and institutions that see value in independent and free media.PARI is changing the way Indian journalism reports and documents the rural.India is more than the elite of a few metros and towns. We report on rural lives and livelihoods, languages, communities, migrants and more. We need your help to pull off this most ambitious of Indian journalistic endeavours. The scale of this effort costs money. Donate generously - and spread the word about PARI.&nbsp;

Donate FAQs


আমাদের সম্বন্ধে জানুন

পারি’র দুনিয়ায় স্বাগত

আমাদের যাবতীয় লেখাপত্তর নিখরচায় ব্যবহার করা যায়, আর আগামীদিনেও এই নিয়মই বজায় থাকবে। আমাদের কাজকর্ম ভালো লাগলে আপনি স্বেচ্ছাশ্রম দিয়ে অথবা অর্থ সাহায্য করে এই কাজে সহায়ক হতে পারেন।

Want to republish this article? Please write to <a href="mailto:zahra@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">zahra@ruralindiaonline.org</a> with a cc to <a href="mailto:namita@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">namita@ruralindiaonline.org</a>

‘We are lonely now...’

The Dharuas, elderly marginal farmers from Odisha’s Bolangir district, migrated to work at a kiln in Hyderabad. The strenuous labour made them want to return home, but the kiln owner refused to let them go

Related stories

A rain-scented walk in Sivagangai

Living on ravaged land

Biswas and the bamboos on his bike

Recycling energy, Godda style

Bhadels of Goa

Pookadai: still throbbing with morning life

Koli Kadlas

Malnourishment high among children of migrants: study

Wheels of the rural Indian West

Living Under a Red Cloud in Bellary

Vedla – earrings of the Maher community

Dreaming of water, drowning in debt

Kali: the dancer and his dreams

Farmer's diet worse than a convict's

In Yavatmal, life goes on

Suicides are about the living, not the dead

Death of a carpenter

Hoisa Shigmo!

Women farmers: weaving a life in Anantapur

Defiant in Dhinkia

Spice and all that's nice

Kerala's Green Army

The ‘jugaad’ not-a-mobile

Health as someone else's wealth

Calibrating in a Kudumbashree assembly unit