THE TWICE CURSED
SHATTERED BY THEIR HUSBANDS’ SUICIDES AND FORSAKEN BY THEIR IN-LAWS, VIDARBHA’S WIDOWS CAN’T EVEN TURN TO AN UNCARING STATE
When she tied the knot at the age of 18, Rupali Nagapure had no regrets about settling down so early in life. Her husband Sandeep was a farmer, who grew soyabean and tur (pigeon pea) on the two acres of farmland he owned at Dongargaon in Maharashtra’s Akola district. They had their own house, and after the birth of their son, Shivam, five years ago, Rupali and Sandeep thought they had everything they could ever want. They were not rich, but they led a comfortable life. Events took a bleak turn four years ago. First, a weak monsoon destroyed their crop. Sandeep took a loan of Rs 35,000 to get through the year. The next year’s monsoon was no better, leading to another crop failure. Frustrated—and now in debt—Sandeep decided to end his life. Rupali was distraught, but took solace in the fact that she still had the farm. However, worse was to come. Her in-laws told her that
around 100 km away, and works as a tailor in his spare time. “We run the house with the little money he is able to send,” she says.
There is precious little government help for people like her, apart from the Sanjay Gandhi Niradhar Yojana (SGNY). Under this scheme, vulnerable people—such as widows and the elderly—get a pension of Rs 900 a month. However, Vanmala herself doesn’t have any faith in the powers that be. Not worldly ones anyway. An ardent devotee of the 19th-century Shegaon saint Gajanan Maharaj, Vanmala has instead chosen to repose her trust in the divine. “God will help me,” she says.
Twenty-six-year-old Durga Ramgade, a widow from Yarad village in Yavatmal district, earns Rs 100 a day as a farm labourer. A mother of two, she took a loan of Rs 10,000 from a microfinance company to run her house. “I have to repay Rs 630 every week. If I fail, the company charges heavy interest,” she says. Durga does not manage to find work every day, and often ends her week unable to make payments. To repay the old loan, she often finds it necessary to take out a new one. “What option do I have?” she asks.
Vasant Korde of Sampada Trust, an NGO working for the empowerment of rural women, says there are at least 17 microfinance companies operating in Yavatmal alone. “Big private banks like HDFC and ICICI, smaller ones like RBL and companies like L&T are also in this business. The women are getting stuck in the loan cycle. The loans [are] not really helping them get over their problems,” he says. Suvarna Damle, executive director of Nagpurbased NGO Prakruti says that providing monetary help to widows is not a solution. “(They) should have a sustainable income. If they are educated in reducing expenditure and increasing income through small entrepreneurship they will be less dependent on loans.”
Sonali Saywan, 40, a widow from Saval in Amravati, saw her life spiral downward after her husband Gajanan committed suicide four years ago, at the age of 41. Soon after, her father-in-law asked her to leave their home as he wanted to give both the house and the three acres of farmland that came with it to his other son, Sanjay. Now earning Rs 100 a day as a farm labourer, Sonali lives with her 13-year-old son, Vishal, and 10-year-old daughter, Rohini, in a rented house. “The neighbours are a bigger help than the in-laws, ” she says, alleging that her in-laws had her name removed from the family’s ration card, blocking her access to subsidised food and fuel. “I could not produce the required documents at the revenue department office to add my name in the ration card,” she says. “The government officials ask us to pay tax first to get any document.”
For now, her children are studying at the local zila parishad school; but from next year, her son will have to travel to Dhamangaon, about 10 km away, since the school he currently attends only goes up to the eighth standard. “That will add to my expenditure. I am not sure whether I will be able to bear it,” she says.
Rupali, the young widow mentioned at the beginning of this story, is also finding it difficult to educate her child. She pays an annual fee of Rs 3,600 for Shivam’s schooling. “He is a quick learner,” she says, watching him inscribe the letters ‘b a by’ neat ly in his homework book. “If I get ownership of the farmland,” she says, “I will either do the farming myself or sell it to raise money for Shivam’s education.” One acre of farmland is worth around Rs 25 lakh. But, first, the law has to be on her side. Follow the writer on Twitter @kirantare
SUVARNA DAMLE OF NGO PRAKRUTI SAYS PROVIDING MONETARY HELP TO WIDOWS IS NOT A SOLUTION; THEY NEED AN ALTERNATIVE INCOME SOURCE