Aparna Karthikeyan

large_01-IMG_3023-AP-Work_in_Nadumudalaikulam_means_women.jpg

medium_01-IMG_3023-AP-Work_in_Nadumudalaikulam_means_women.jpg

small_01-IMG_3023-AP-Work_in_Nadumudalaikulam_means_women.jpg

thumbnail_01-IMG_3023-AP-Work_in_Nadumudalaikulam_means_women.jpg

01-IMG_3023-AP-Work_in_Nadumudalaikulam_means_women.jpg

The women of Nadumudalaikulam village in Tamil Nadu would scoff if shown the data of Census 2011. The figures there peg the workforce participation rate for rural women at 30.02 per cent. Men fare better at 53.03 per cent. On the ground, the reality is altogether different. Almost every woman in this village in Madurai district toils at home and in the fields. The housework is unpaid. The wage for women agricultural labourers is about half of what men get. To skew things further, the ‘weaker sex’ get the tougher work on the farm. Men prepare the field. It’s a job that has traditionally paid well. And is now increasingly mechanised. But 80% of the transplanting and weeding – both generate enormous strain on the back, legs and hands – is done by women.

02-IMG_3095-AP-Work_in_Nadumudalaikulam_means_women.jpg

Podhumani, who cultivates 3.5 acres with her husband C. Jeyabal (a farmer and swimming instructor) also works as a labourer in the fields of others. That second role brings in some extra money. The going rate is Rs.100 for four hours (8 a.m. to 12 p.m). Podhumani’s mornings are frenetic. Up at 5 a.m. she cooks, sorts out her house and packs food for her school-going sons. Then she takes a ‘short-cut’ to the fields, wading across waist-deep water in a kamma (pond). Next, she pitches in with the watering, transplanting, weeding or harvesting of their own farm. After a late but quick lunch, she tends to the cows, goats and the sheds. Then she cooks dinner. There’s a gentle smile on her face as she speaks. It widens when her husband acknowledges her hard work. Both are keen for their sons to study and work ‘in an office’, not on a farm. “I’ve never been to school,” she says. Her eyes fill up. She looks away.

03-IMG_3086-AP-Work_in_Nadumudalaikulam_means_women.jpg

Logamani Ilavarasan feeds her daughter Shobana. She makes a small ball of rice and sambhar (a lentil-based stew). The four-year-old opens her mouth eagerly. She is rarely hand-fed. Her mother mostly has no time for that. Logamani has two older children. And more work than she can do, both in her own fields and those of others. She leaves home at 8 a.m. when her kids go to school. She’s back when they return. When they were tiny, she took them with her to the paddy fields. “First, we put them in a cloth cradle, hung between trees. When they’re about eight months old, they sit and play in the field border.” The women work right up to the day before they deliver. And typically, are back in the fields one month after childbirth. “Government hospital for us, government school for our children. We cannot afford any private stuff,” says the 29-year-old, who works every waking hour, every day.

04-IMG_3073-AP-Work_in_Nadumudalaikulam_means_women.jpg

“I was 14, he was 30. Had I known better…,” Nagavalli Thirunavakarasu talks about her marriage with a twinge of regret. Two decades later, she’s got her hands full with three children, milch cows and a day job as an agricultural labourer. Her husband, a lorry-loader, earns Rs.150 per day. The work takes him to Madurai city, 25 kilometres away. She gets Rs. 100 a day as an agricultural labourer and Rs. 140 when there is work to be had under the Mahatama Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Scheme (MNREGS). Their combined income just about covers the family’s daily expenses. “I want something better for my daughters,” she says firmly. “They must study, not get married early.” The eldest one is a second-year BA English student. Nagavalli is proud that the girl has decided to be a teacher. The younger daughter is a high-school commerce student. The youngest child, a boy, is in Class 8. “Only he shows no interest in helping us out in the fields. The girls come. At least when I ask them to…”

05-IMG_2837Crop-AP-Work_in_Nadumudalaikulam_means_women.jpg

Ochamma Gopal is one of the big landowners in the village. She closely supervises the other women working her 15 acres. She’s well respected, knowledgeable and pays her workers Rs. 100 for a day’s work. But the village women would much rather do MNREGS work when that is available is available. That pays Rs. 40 more a day. And, they point out, the supervisors do not stand on the field’s border the whole time ordering them about.

06-IMG_3060-AP-Work_in_Nadumudalaikulam_means_women.jpg

Kannammal Chinnathevar, 70, allowed me to photograph her only after she had changed into a beautiful blue saree and worn her enormous gold earrings. It was past 3 p.m. and she was just back after a day’s slog as an agricultural labourer. She wears her sarees without a blouse, draped in the typical style of the region. Her back is straight, her skin gently wrinkled. Her eyes are cloudy and she can only hear if you speak loudly enough. But she smiles and nods a lot. Her son Jeyabal tells me that she goes to work even though she’s financially secure. “She owns some gold and lends out money. She is not dependent on me,” he laughs.

07-IMG_3047-AP-Work_in_Nadumudalaikulam_means_women.jpg

While the women are at work in the fields, the men are busy. The older ones play cards in the afternoon shade of a neem tree. “That’s my father,” Jeyabal points to the man on the right. His hair is as white as his hoicked-up dhoti. Behind him are younger men watching the game. If the 2011 Census is to be believed, “the workforce participation rate for females at the national level stands at 25.51% compared with 53.26% for males. In the rural sector, females have a workforce participation rate of 30.02% compared with 53.03% for males. In the urban sector, it is 15.44% for females and 53.76% for males.”The women of Nadumudalaikulam would surely be interested to find out what, according to the Census, constitutes “work”…Also read: <a id="1205" linktype="page">Where farming means two full-time jobs</a>This article is part of the series ‘Vanishing Livelihoods of Rural Tamil Nadu’ and is supported under NFI National Media Award 2015.

In Nadumudalaikulam, ‘work’ means women

Nadumudalaikulam

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


Let’s get you acquainted

Welcome to PARI

All our content is, and will forever be free to consume. If you enjoy our work, you can support us by becoming a volunteer or by donating to help fund our work.

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>

In Nadumudalaikulam, ‘work’ means women

Women in this Tamil Nadu village would be baffled by Census 2011

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