The little black goat hungrily suckled from the feeding bottle Muthammal held to its mouth. Ms. Muthammal had just bought half a litre of milk from her neighbour Ambigai, who stood by holding her aluminium milk can, measuring to refill the feeding bottle.
“She bought this kid as a new-born from someone, who needed money. She will raise it, and then sell it to make some money,” Ms. Ambigai said, explaining the economics of goat rearing in M.Thanda village in the dry Eiryur block of Dharmapuri. “Sometimes it may go up to ₹10,000, if she is lucky.”
As she waits, Ms. Muthammal tells Ms. Ambigai that she withdrew the last of the MGNREGS work payment of ₹1,200 this week. Those were the wages for the six days of work credited for March that she had saved up.
“There is no more work now,” said Ms. Muthammal.
Work under the scheme has come down to just three weeks a year now, with more people and less work, never 100 days, said Ms. Ambigai.
With the pandemic induced lockdown and work under the MGNREGS drying up, the rural economy is tottering, barely sustained by the State government’s COVID-19 cash relief of ₹4,000 for every ration card, with dry rations providing minimal sustenance.
Ms. Ambigai, who supplies an average of 5 litres daily to the local milk cooperative society, diverted some milk to Ms. Muthammal’s goat because she needed the extra money.
While the cooperative society procures milk at ₹22 per litre, she can sell it in the open for ₹40 per litre. But there’s a catch.
“The society’s offtake is a steady income. I know they will buy it. Here, no one can afford milk every day. They will buy on one day but then may not buy for another 10 days. I can’t lose the society,” says Ambigai. Though the society has not paid her since March, she’s certain they will clear the dues. “But on days like these, when someone asks, I sell it.”
And Ambigai is unaware of larger changes effected by government policies since her payments are yet to come. The cooperative societies have cut down the procurement price by ₹3 payable to the suppliers like her.
In the neighbouring block of Palacodde in Dodaaradhanahalli village, Muniamma, in her 50s, is worried by this cut in prices. Just six months ago during Pongal, Muniamma bought a cow. “I borrowed ₹50,000 from my sangam (SHGs), bought a cow for ₹40,000. The society used to pay ₹22 per litre, but now they only pay ₹19, saying milk prices have come down.” Muniamma sells 10 litres a day to the society. The drop in procurement prices means she loses ₹900 per month.
As part of its electoral promise, the DMK government slashed the price of Aavin milk by ₹3 procured by the State run milk cooperative federation from the farmers. But, this concession is also subsidised by women like Ambigai and Muniamma.
“How will I pay back my loan? I have to pay ₹2,500 per month to the sangam and spend on fodder worth ₹1,100 per bag (two bags a month),” says a worried Ms Muniamma. To add to her troubles, those above 50 years are now debarred from MGNREGS works due to the pandemic. “It is true, they won’t give us work anymore? Where are we to go,” she asks anxiously.
Across villages, as women go about their daily chores, the spectre of debts owed to the SHGs are the staple of every conversation. The women were given loans on the understanding that they would find work and that their menfolk were also working, says Ms Ambigai. But, now the men have returned from their jobs and are unemployed. “Without men, we ate what was there, not needing to cook three times. Now, the rations and the gas always falls short,” she says as her husband who was employed in a snacks making unit has lost his source of livelihood.
The State government’s cash relief of ₹4,000 for every ration card has cushioned the impact of joblessness briefly.
In a predominantly rain-fed, drought prone region like Dharmapuri, the summer showers brought seasonal farm work for the landless majority, on the marginal landholdings in the village. But not this year. With cash flows to the rural economy drying up, those with meagre landholdings have turned to family labour as the men working in small scale units and informal sector have returned due to the lockdown. Lack of remitances from them has also meant little money to pay the farm labour.
R. Prabhu was holding a large sack of groundnuts between his legs on his two wheeler outside his house in Chinnaperamanur village in Pennagaram taluk.
He had been working as a mason, earning upto ₹800 per day depending on the size of the buildings. But the spike in COVID cases and the lockdown forced him to return homw.
Mr Prabhu’s family owns 1 acre of land on which they raised paddy last year followed by ragi and groundnuts.
“What we grow we keep it for our own use, not needing to buy anything. Sometimes, we sell if there is excess,” his mother says. “But we cannot pay wages now. Our family members are our farmhands.”
As one drives through the villages, stray construction works on houses with hollow blocks are being carried out by the family members.
Loan waivers for some
“They (farmers) will start coming for loans once this lockdown is over,” predicts, K. Periasamy, secretary of the Primary Agricultural Cooperative Society at Jarthalav, from across his table overlooking the campus of Paaparapatty Cooperative Sugar mill in Palacodde taluk. The Society lends crop loans to landholding farmers, apart from jewel loan and loans to women’s SHGs.
“We will not lend a rupee if there are outstanding loans. Every year, there are outstanding loans because farmers say the ‘cane is lost, crop is burnt’. But, this year, the State government had waived Agricultural Cooperative Society farm loans and SHG loans ahead of the elections. “Before they could issue the G.O for jewel loan waiver, elections came. So, the status of jewel loans is unclear,” he says.
For the majority of women’s SHGs serviced by the regional rural banks and nationalised banks, this loan waiver to the Societies-lent SHGs has left them feeling deprived.
“Society lends only to those with land. Benefits are accrued to those with land and the rest of us don’t get anything,” said Vijayshanthi in Paruvadhanapalli village in Pennagaram block, who has a loan of ₹38,000 from her sangam and a jewel loan from a bank.
“How does one register with a society to get the waiver?” asks J. Kalpana, as she cut fodder in her families holding of about a third of an acre. “This fodder won’t last three weeks for the two head of cattle we have,” she added.
Ms. Kalpana heads the SHG in M.Thanda village in Eriyur block. Her SHG borrowed ₹3 lakh from a nationalized bank and shared it between its 20 members. Now for two months, the women had a tacit agreement not to ask each other for interest. “Two months, no weekly savings or interest payment.” But soon, the bank will ask Ms. Kalpana and she will have to ask her members.
Shankar had been ducking creditors ever since he returned to the village from Kuppam in Andhra Pradesh where he worked at a stone crushing unit.
“The agent took me before the lockdown, but no raw materials came and they brought us back after 20 days work and no pay.” He is still reeling under the burden of repaying as arisi (rice) chit (monthly/weekly informal chit scheme to buy good rice just in time for Pongal). “I borrowed ₹8,000 and ended up repaying ₹30,000 for interest defaults,” he says.
“You know it hurts, when the wife says, “What man are you, if you can’t buy a little something for the children to eat.” This inability to provide even a snack for the children is echoed by the women across villages.
