Why do people migrate? Class IV

I have been amazed, and struck, by the medley I witness in the big city life. I see the business class splurge everywhere, be it swanky cars or eat-outs, necessities or luxuries. I see not-so-affluent-middle-aged people, small-scale-businessmen or some in good position in a good organization, hard-work and making merry both at the same time. I see people like me – young professionals who are earning handsomely and spending a good chunk of their salaries on things they were not used to earlier but now cant imagine a life without those ‘things’. I also see the smiling faces of people aged 18-24, but from smaller neighbouring villages or ‘Kasba’, in Retail outlets (Big Bazaar, Spencers, Pantaloons, Westside, Reliance Fresh etc), Food Courts and several other New-Age shops, the smiling faces who don’t take offense if you don’t greet them back when they greet you. And then I see my Maid, my fruit-seller, my Naariyal-paani-walla, my Rickshaw-puller, the Car-cleaner of my landlord, my Newspaper-boy, my Bisleri-wale-bhaiya and wonder where are they from. Surely, they cant be from this city. They cant afford to be in this city doing such menial stuff for their living. This curious creature has been asking almost everyone he meets and have a chance to even faintly called as an acquaintance, the question ‘Where is you home?‘ I have got variety of responses which confirmed my assumption to be true. Most of the people here are not from this big city. They have migrated, just as I have. And I try to look at the issue in detail.

I look for the Class IV people (see above paragraph for classification) around the place I live and come up with an interesting observation. The fruit-seller at my doorstep is from a nondescript village in UP; My maid is from Bengal (Or, is a Bangladeshi); My courier guy is from a nearby village; The rickshaw-wallas plying in my neighbourhood are from Bihar or Malda/Murshidabad in Bengal; The cobbler, the garage-mechanic boy, the girl who sells bangles spread over a piece of cloth at the roadside are victims of some tragedy (which vary from cyclone, to fire, to floods, to riots) in some remote village in Tamilnadu or Orissa. This brings me to the inevitable question : Why do people migrate? What happens to them that they agree to leave the place where they are born and grow-up? The answer to this lies in how much one loves – his(or her. No, I am not trying to be politically correct here by suffixing ‘/her’ every time I write ‘his’) parents, his wife and children, himself, in that order, - and how much is he willing to endure for this love. Lets look at the following stories to have a ‘look and feel’ of the Class IV. 1. I am a regular customer of two rickshaw-wallas (I call rickshaw an open-air-merc. Why? Well, lets concentrate on migration here and I will discuss my open-air-merc theory in some later post) Sasi, who is from Sasaram in Bihar and Kanaai, from Malda in Bengal. Sasi(No, it has nothing to do with Rani Mukherjee in Yuva) left his village some 4 years back when his debts soared but income from cultivation became so low that he couldn’t even feed his two sons daily. Now, he is happy that he is able to send almost Rs 1500 every month to his family. Kanaai was a craftsman and made enough money to meet his family’s needs. But debt ruined him. He had to marry his daughters, and feed a family of six. Kanaai left Malda 7 years back, and sice then has been able to marry-off his one daughter. He is happy as well.

2. My maid has a slightly different story. She was born in Malda but her parents migrated to Noida some 12 years back. Her father pulls rickshaw, while my maid and her mother work in households. They all feed a family of six, all living in Noida. They left the village due to a riot which burnt all their encashable belongings leaving them penniless. Debt, coupled with the responsibility to feed the hungry mouths, drove the couple out of the village in search of livelihood. But now, with three pair of earning hands in the family, they dont have to worry about food any longer. They even have a TV which a family where the mother maid worked gave them while they were leaving the city. They couldn’t be happier. People leave their villages to make their families happier, like the three families cited above. Yes, the scale varies. But everyone, and not ‘almost everyone’, is able to find a living in a big city, one way or the other. This belief, coupled with inadequate conditions in villages, is the major cause of the EXODUS. Agriculture is seasonal in several parts of India – you cannot cultivate your land for the whole year. Food-for-work programmes are on their way to becoming yet another Scheme that made the middlemen richer beyond their expectations. What will people do then? In the lean season men leave their village homes and along with it, leave their wifes, children and aging parents behind. They venture out to find livelihood in the promised land – Cities. The impact of this is two-pronged. Villages are loosing its quality workforce, mostly men, to cities. Which means, now the Women have to take care of the lands, the work for which many of them are neither mentally prepared nor have been imparted the training. This is resulting in moving towards what is being touted as ‘Feminisation of Agriculture‘. Due to shortage of labour, labour costs have increased steeply (e.g. Works for which people were hired for Rs 50, now costs roughly Rs 80 in several areas. And mind you, 60% is steep indeed), which is pinching several rural households. They come to the dreamland (often alone, but those who do not have land, or have meager holdings, migrate with their families) and, unable to find a decent but affordable shelter,decide to live at roadsides, where they build small tent like structures of bamboo, rags and plastics all intricately tied with ropes to create a roof, endangering their lives in several ways. When you read reports stating N people died due to severe heat/cold wave or X died of rains, or Y died due to rapid spread of cholera/mosquito-bite-disease/dog-bite who do you think constitute the bulk of the deaths? And then, there is always some rich-and-drunk brat speeding down his BMW. Hari knows all this, Mahato told him when he returned last year, but migrates to the ruthless big city, for that burning desire to feed his family well, for the love he nurtures for them which doesn’t allow him to sleep if his wife went to bed hungry. He is the sole bread winner and has to feed his three children and his widow mother and his wife. In the meantime, he goes under debt. After exhausting all possibilities, he decides to leave for the city. He seeks counsel from the elderly and gathers information about his fellow villagers who also went to some city a few years back and are now able to feed their family. Hari goes to where Chaman went last year – Noida. Chaman and three more young men from his village help Hari to start off as a rickshaw-puller. Cut to one year, Hari fell in love with Noida. The city gives him Rs 2000 a month. After all his expenses, he is able to send home a cool thousand bucks. None of his family members would now be hungry for next one month. They can even buy some clothes three months later when Hari sends them 2000 bucks more. Yes, Hari is happy now. Next time he visits home, he will but some good frock for his infant girl. Also, he will ask Buddhu, Panchu and Sheel to come with him and get a headstart in rickshaw pulling. At least their families will be able to eat well. Even Sakhi, who became widow last year, can come to Noida and get work somewhere as a maid. They can share Hari’s tent by the roadside for some time and then when they have money, they can build their own roadside tents. God Bless Noida. More than 1.8 million Haris and Sakhis reside in Delhi alone. But yes, the Big CITY gives them livelihood. It gives Haris hope and assurance, that his children will eat before they go to sleep, his wife doesn’t have to work too hard and she will look beautiful in that red sari which he will buy for her two months later. And Hope is a belief in a positive outcome related to events and circumstances in one’s life. Hope as an emotion produces a motivation to act. And Hope is what keeps the Human life ticking, even in the most adverse state. Cheers to this spirit. Rickshaw Photo taken from www.osc.edu/…/emissions/images/rickshaw.jpg

Women in Agriculture photo taken from http://www.indiatogether.org/2004/may/wom-farmers.htm