IN PUNJAB, CROP DIVERSIFICATION ADDS TO DESPAIR
A farmer of Fatehgarh Sahib, who grows wheat and paddy but switched to sugarcane, maize and vegetables, says marketing and payment delays make farming nonviable
He owns four acres of land, farms 20 acres more on lease, and has a debt of ₹ 10 lakh. Gurmukh Singh, 44, is one of better-to-do farmers of a village in Fatehgarh Sahib district with several newlybuilt houses, smooth streets and girls on scooters. It’s a picture that could well be captioned ‘prosperous Punjab’. But the genteel façade hides the struggles of the state’s farming community.
He owns four acres of land, farms 20 acres more on lease, and has a debt of ₹ 10 lakh. Gurmukh Singh, 44, is one of better-to-do farmers of Pandrali, a quiet, well-groomed village in Fatehgarh Sahib district with several newly-built houses, smooth streets and girls on scooters. It’s a picture that could well be captioned ‘prosperous Punjab’. But the genteel façade hides the struggles of the state’s farming community.
“I am a farmer, have never done anything else, but it’s not sustainable any longer,” Gurmukh cleared his throat. A former village head, he is clearly uneasy about sharing his troubles with strangers. The price of potato, the crop he grew on part of the leased land, has crashed. It means more debt for he has to pay a rent of ₹40,000 for an acre though his crop has fetched him only ₹25,000. “This is what happens when you diversify,” he fumes.
This week, the Punjab government announced a waiver of crop loans up to ₹2 lakh for small and marginal farmers (up to five acres). Gurmukh is relieved that he falls in the bracket but wishes the government it was complete waiver. “I know the state has limited funds, but the Centre should rescue farmers,” he opines.
Like most farmers in the state, this matriculate grows wheat and paddy, the two crops with a guaranteed minimum support price (MSP). Paddy has leached the land of water leading to fear of desertification—the water table at Pandrali has breached 70 feet, and is falling at the rate of three feet a year—yet farmers refuse to grow other crops. “I have tried turmeric, sugarcane, maize and vegetables, but marketing is a problem. The sugarcane mills don’t pay us for months and prices of other crops are erratic,” says Gurmukh.
RISING COST OF PRODUCTION
But now even the MSP of the two main crops, he rues, is becoming unviable due to the spiralling cost of inputs. It’s simple maths. In 1992, says Gurmukh, diesel cost ₹4-5 a litre, a sack of diammonium phosphate (DAP) ₹200, while wheat cost ₹5 a kilo. Now while diesel is pegged at ₹58 a litre and DAP is 1,100 for a sack, but wheat has failed to keep pace at ₹16 a kilo. “Add to it the cost of boring tubewells every year due to the dipping water level, the steeply priced pesticides scarcely used in the past, and the cost of labour from UP and Bihar in the absence of local helping hands,” says Gurmukh, explaining the high cost of production. A bore costs anywhere between ₹10,000 and ₹1 lakh.
Groundwater irrigates over 73% of land in the state. This has led to a sharp decline in the water table. According to the Central Ground Water Board, of the 138 administrative blocks in Punjab, 110 blocks are overexploited, four are critical and two are semi-critical. Only 22 blocks are safe, but they have arsenic, fluoride and uranium contamination.
One reason for the indiscriminate use of groundwater is free electricity for farmers introduced in 1999. Also, the Punjab government hasn’t placed any restriction on the depth of tubewells. Nor does one need any permission to dig up a well.
Inadequate rainfall in the past few years is increasing the dependence on groundwater. “The year 2014 was very rough on us, so was 2015,” recounts Gur- mukh. In 2015, Punjab got only 50% of the monsoon rainfall, and in 2016 it was 36%.
Little wonder then that any mention of digging up Satluj Yamuna Link (SYL) canal to provide water to Haryana raises hackles. “The Bhakra canal flows 1.5 km from here; the Sirhind feeder and Narwana branch are also close but all the water flows to Haryana and Rajasthan,” gripes a friend of Gurmukh.
Haryana, he claims, also has the job advantage as it borders both Chandigarh and Delhi. “They benefited from industrialisation and the Gurgaon boom,” says Gurmukh, adding how a working man drawing a salary of 35,000 a month is better off than a farmer who owns 10 acres. Haryana also offers a better price for alternative crops such as sunflower. “It fetches ₹ 25,000 per quintal in Punjab while in Haryana it gets ₹ 35,000,” he says.
The crop prices show no signs of increasing but land rentals are going through the roof and range between 40,000 and 45,000 per acre. With farming becoming unviable, more and more small farmers are leasing out their land instead of toiling on it. “These landlords seek a rise of 10% every year regardless of any natural calamity or price crash,” grouses Gurmukh. He recalls 2015 when he was forced to sell his export-grade Basmati (PB 1509) to the Food Corporation of India after the prices crashed from ₹4,500 a quintal in 2014 to ₹1,700 in 2015.
Ask Gurmukh why he takes so much land on lease, he points to his machinery. “I have a tractor, a sower, a land leveler, a roller et al. I need land to make the most of them.” There is the lure of a good crop and the pressure of repaying the debt.
Demonetisation dealt a heavy blow to Gurmukh who wanted to repay a crop loan. “I had just sold my crop and deposited ~2 lakh in bank but I could only withdraw ~5,000 a week. Somehow the little sums of money I took out were spent while the interest on loan piled up.”
THE DEBT TRAP
In 2007, Gurmukh took a loan of ₹ 5 lakh from a bank to build his house. Most of his other loans are from commission agents (arhtiya or the middlemen) at a higher rate of interest. But Gurmukh appears resigned to working with them. Here is the reason: In Punjab, a farmer cannot sell his produce in the open market. He can only sell it to commission agents under the Agriculture Produce Marketing Act, 1961. A few days ago, the Congress government passed an amendment to the act, allowing private players to set up mandis to purchase farm produce. Gurmukh is yet to learn about it.
As of now, the middleman also doubles up as a dealer of seeds, pesticides, and fertilisers. Then there is Form J entitling farmers to social welfare schemes such as health insurance. “That has to be accompanied by receipts of sale to commission agents,” says Gurmukh.
It’s a hard-scrabble existence not just for Gurmukh— you have to become one with the soil, says the farmer who wakes up at 4am every day—but also for his wife Ranjeet Kaur. “As a small farmer, you have to work hard,” says Ranjeet, who tends to three cows besides cooking for labourers employed in the fields. The paddy sowing has just begun and her hands are full. “Bande bahut rotiyaan khande ne (the labourers have big appetites),” she smiles. Despite being a farmer’s daughter and wife, Ranjeet doesn’t think highly of farming. “No one values the farmer,” she says.
The couple’s only offspring, Gurpreet, who is doing post-graduation in English from a college in Fatehgarh Sahib, is looking forward to a bank teller’s course. The young woman, who stitches her own clothes, may not be sure about her career path, but is clear that her husband will not be a farmer. “No way,” she declares. “It’s too risky. No matter how hard you work, there is no guarantee of profit.” Youngsters in the village, she says, want to either get a job or go abroad. Farming is an option only for the uneducated.
Jagtar Singh, Gurmukh’s man Friday who works on his land for ₹ 1 lakh a year, agrees. “In farming, you throw money for six months and don’t know whether you will get it back. A salaried job is better.”
The only person who appears contented in the fields is Harendra Kumar from Motihari district in Bihar, who is here with his team of 10 labourers. “We will sow paddy,” he explains as he arranges ladoos for a pooja before they begin work. He explains, “We pray for a bumper crop, our wellbeing and that of sardar ji.”
Amen to that.