E. Balakrishnan is among a handful of residents in Vengambakkam who still practise what has now become to them ‘the extremely difficult business of agriculture’ with a stoic smile.
Layout developers, individual investors and builders are showing considerable interest in the area — proximate to the Vandalur-Kelambakkam High Road and only six km from the Tambaram-Velachery Main Road — and many farmers have either sold their farmlands in entirety or part.
A majority of those who hold on to a part of their lands have stopped farming. But, a small crop of these farmers, including Balakrishnan, is refusing to yield to factors that discourage farming — primarily, migration of farmhands to the better-paying construction industry, and the temptation of big money that could be made by selling these lands.
What is worrying is that Balakrishnan and the few others still farming believe they may not be able hold out for long.
From a quiet village around 10 years ago, where over 200 families practised agriculture, Vengambakkam, which comes under Agaramthen panchayat, is now a sub-text in a larger development story. Development along the Vandalur-Kelambakkam Road and Tambaram-Velachery Main Road, the widening of Agaram Main Road and the resultant spurt in construction activity in and around Agaramthen, have had a transformative effect on Vengambakkam.
“Around 10 years ago, 2,250 acres of land in Vengambakkam and a few surrounding areas were under cultivation. Now, agriculture is practised only on 50 acres,” explains Balakrishnan.
According to him, only 20 families are still at it, that too on one or two acres of land each. “Sourcing labour is not easy anymore. Working in a farm, a labourer will get Rs. 200 a day. For construction work, he’ll get Rs. 500. For planting crops, we now rely on labourers from areas beyond Nagari. We rent a vehicle and bring them here, on a contract basis, paying Rs. 3,700 a day,” says Balakrishnan.
Due to the labour crisis, most of these farmers cultivate crops only once a year. “During our heyday, we would raise three crops a year,” says A. Selvaraj, Balakrishnan’s nephew, who grows Super Ponni, a rice variety, on a little over two acres.
Labour shortage has also led to a noticeable drop in the variety of crops: only paddy is mostly grown.
“Vengambakkam used to be known for the variety of vegetables it produced. Vegetable cultivation is labour-intensive, a factor that has deterred us from taking it up,” says Balakrishnan.
Sourcing labour is going to get more difficult, and it is possible fewer people will continue farming next year. Take, for instance, T.S. Govindaraj, an inspirational farmer from Thiruvanchery, who used to farm on a parcel of land just two kilometres from Camp Road junction on the Tambaram-Velachery Main Road. Residents in the area admired him; so did other farmers who had long given up the profession. He has reportedly not been farming in recent times. When this writer met him in December 2013, in the middle of the paddy-growing season, he dwelt on the scarcity and exorbitance of labour in the area.
With many farmlands having been turned into plots and ‘projects’, Vengambakkam and a few other villages in Agaramthen panchayat are also fast losing their connection to their farming traditions. There is no longer any pride in being the biggest or the best farmer in a village. Ironically, in these villages, where agriculture was the only major profession until 15 years ago, it is now seen as an anachronism by the farmers themselves.
Most of the younger generation does not seem to be open to maintaining a link with agriculture, while pursuing other professions. Balakrishnan’s son is in the construction industry. The son and daughter of P. Pandurangan have opted for mechanical engineering and medicine, respectively, and farming in some form is unlikely to figure in their future plans.
The juggernaut of development brooks no resistance. Agrees Selvaraj: “I had to sell a part of my land, because the neighbouring lands had been sold, and huge compound walls had come up, severing access to this section of my land.” Pandurangan says, “Last year, a bag of rice sold at Rs. 750, a huge loss for us. We make a profit only if a bag sells at Rs. 1,200. Given this, we have to sell a part of our land from time to time to meet exigencies at home.”
“It’s tempting for the farmers. A cent of land that sold at Rs. 25,000 is now Rs. 6.1 lakh,” says Balakrishnan, and directs my gaze to two men studying a piece of farmland belonging to another farmer.
