It is past dusk, and the full moon lights up the sky over Muthur hamlet in Irundhukottai panchayat in Thalli. This tiny hamlet with 130-odd hutments on a revenue poromboke looks up to the moonlight to sweep over the darkness.
Relocated a few years ago, the people of the hamlet had lived without power supply. Mostly from various villages of the mountainous Thalli block, they moved here seeking easy access to places of work. “We came from Tholumalai, T.Palayur, Bettamugilalam, Sithalangakottai and other little hamlets uphill,” says Nagaraj, a villager.
“Earlier, we called this place Thirumananagar, and now it’s called Muthur,” says Mallammal, who moved in here five years ago. They have apportioned a tiny plot for each family for subsistence cultivation with rain-fed crops. “We cultivate ragi, corn, beans and other leguminous vegetation. We use this for self-consumption,” says Nagaraj, who travels to Hosur for work.
When the sun goes down the horizon, this hamlet shuts down for an early night by 6.30 p.m. The single most treasured property of each hut is a solar-torch. “An NGO had visited the hamlet and distributed torches to each hut. But, only those who were present on that day got the torch. The rest of us make do with candles, or lamps,” says H. Danraj. They charge their torches when there is just enough sunlight, which is often mild in Thalli.
“It lasts for less than three hours after dark,” says 47-year old Thirugnanam, who works in an eatery in Denkanikottai.
A few men own mobile phones that they charge at some shops outside, when they wait to catch a bus.
“We lack power supply and drinking water,” says Vijaya. A stagnant water body that is filled during the rains serves as an all-purpose water source. “We use it for washing, bathing, drinking and cooking,” says Vijaya.
For the people of Muthur, the closest primary health sub-centre is at Namleri, about 20 kilometres away. They look out for a mobile medical van that drives down every fortnight with basic tablets. “I have severe leg pain. I hope the van arrives here sometime soon,” says Thirugnanam.
Once in a month, they travel to their respective villages to collect their monthly rations.
“There was nothing for us in our villages, and this relocation was the only option for us,” says Mallamma, who lives with her daughter and two grandchildren.
The 60-odd children of the hamlet know nothing but the darkness of the evening.
Except for one boy, the rest of the children are school drop-outs. With not so much as basic light at night, education for these children appeared a pointless effort.
