Apekshita Varshney

Sharmila Joshi

Editor

large_Cropped_IMG_20181203_135514.gif

medium_Cropped_IMG_20181203_135514.gif

small_Cropped_IMG_20181203_135514.gif

thumbnail_Cropped_IMG_20181203_135514.gif

Cropped_IMG_20181203_135514.gif

The men had cut tree trunks and placed them on the road. There were
around 70-80 of them. They had met the night before to plan the protest against
the broken road, full of pot-holes, which connects their village,  Bhelonilodh of Lalitpur district in Uttar
Pradesh to Lalitpur
town (around 40 kilometres to
the south) and Jhansi city (around 90 kilometres to the north). They
had protested before by writing letters, meeting government officials – this
was the first time they were blocking the road.

The previous
evening, Rajabeti Vanshkar, 25, had heard about the protest from the other women in the
village. All morning, she had her ears tuned for sounds, but didn&#39;t hear much.
Rajabeti is from the
Basor community, a Scheduled Caste, who live at a short distance from the
dominant Lodhis (an OBC) in the village of around 1,900 people. She moved to Bhelonilodh from Jamla Jot village in Siddharthnagar district 12 years ago, and adds around Rs.
1,000 a month to the family income by weaving bamboo baskets.

That day, long
after her eight-year-old son and five-year-old daughter had gone to school, and
husband had gone for farm labour, she heard something. “Around 11-12 am, I
heard victory cries and chants of zindabad.
Later in the afternoon, when I met the other women at the handpump, I found
out from tayee [Meera Devi] what had happened. The
sub-district magistrate sahiba had promised to get the road built in
two days,” Rajabeti recalls.

Meera Devi Vanshkar’s is the first Basor house in the village, around 100 metres from the end of the row Lodhi houses. Some windows in her house overlook the village centre where the men had gathered to protest.  She peeped from the kitchen window. “The men were sitting on the road, not letting any vehicles pass and then madam came,” says 51-year-old Meera Devi. “There was some talk and then she left. I came to my door and the boys outside told me that the protest was called off because the road will be built in two days. I hoped that’s true,” she says. “Bekaar se bekaar gaon sudhar gaye [the worst villages are now better],” Sandhya Vanshkar, 23, says, “but look at ours. I wash clothes outside and the dust sticks to them. I have to use a veil because of the dust. The dust also sticks to the bamboo baskets we make here.” Sandhya’s father and two brothers are labourers, while she and her mother look after the house and earn a bit from making bamboo baskets.The three women desperately want the road to be built, not because the bumpy, jolting ride bothers them (they usually only walk) but because they are tired of the dust that flows from the untarred road.

After the protest was called off, some men stayed outside to chat. Nanhibai Lodhi, 53, came to her door to call her husband Kehar Singh, 60, for lunch. A few months ago, as Kehar Singh was walking on the road, loose gitti (grit or pieces of stone) from the poorly-built road were flicked out by a vehicle, and hit him. “I request him to be careful since then,” Nanhibai says. While there is no visible bruise, Kehar Singh complains of pain. “There&#39;s dust everywhere,” Nanhibai continues. “In the water. In the food. Our outside room [which faces the road] is practically unusable. There&#39;s keechad (dirt) in eyes, my eyes water, I sneeze, both my husband and I have problems breathing.” Their two daughters are married and two sons, 32, and 30, live and work in Delhi, where, Nanhibai hears, “the situation isn’t that much better. But that’s a big city, why should our village be so polluted?”Despite her anguish, Nanhibai didn’t go out when the men were protesting. “Women don’t get out of their houses,” she says. “In any case, we all want the same thing: a new road.” She too heard that the sub-district magistrate’s arrival ended the protest. “She has promised to get the road built and maybe she will, because she looks like an honest officer,” she says, “If the problem persists, I will ask them to write to the PWD (Public Works Department). All villages can be improved, why can’t our village improve? Perhaps even I’ll go out on the road…”Sandhya is not sure about venturing too far out: “The bade aadmi [big people; older men] sit there at the athai [village centre]. We don&#39;t go there.” Rajabeti adds, “I don’t know if anyone will stop us from going there, but we’ve never tried. All we want”, she sighs, “is freedom from this dust.”The protest occurred on a Sunday morning in December 2018. The road has still not been built.

Waiting for the dust to settle

ধুলোর ঝড় থামার অপেক্ষায় ভেলোনিলোধ 

தூசு அடங்க காத்திருக்கிறோம்

धूल के जमने का इंतज़ार

غبار کے جمنے کا انتظار

ଧୂଳି ଜମିଯିବାକୁ ଅପେକ୍ଷା

धुरळा खाली बसण्याची प्रतीक्षा

Bhelonilodh

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


ଆସନ୍ତୁ ଆପଣଙ୍କୁ ପରିଚିତ କରାଇବା

ପରୀକୁ ସ୍ୱାଗତ

ଆମର ସମସ୍ତ ବିଷୟବସ୍ତୁ ସବୁବେଳେ ବ୍ୟବହାର ପାଇଁ ମାଗଣାରେ ଉପଲବ୍ଧ ରହିବ। ଯଦି ଆମର କାମ ଆପଣଙ୍କୁ ଭଲ ଲାଗୁଛି, ଆପଣ ସ୍ୱେଚ୍ଛାସେବୀ ଭାବରେ ଆମକୁ ସହଯୋଗ କରିପାରିବେ କିମ୍ବା ଆମ କାମ ପାଇଁ ଆର୍ଥିକ ଅନୁଦାନ ପ୍ରଦାନ କରି ଆମକୁ ସାହାଯ୍ୟ କରିପାରିବେ।

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>

Waiting for the dust to settle

The people of Bhelonilodh – across caste and gender lines – are tired of the dust from a central road in their village, and desperately want it to be repaired and tarred

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