It’s not just crop failure

Bhartendu Sood

I worked in Amritsar for a decade and it gave me an insight into Punjab’s rural life. Crop failure is not the only reason for farmer suicides. Vagaries of weather have hurt farmers since time immemorial. The real culprits include consumerism, lavish marriages, land sharks who leave small farmers landless, liquor and drugs. 

We had an export unit at Khasa in Amritsar. Due to problems in the export market, we had to lay off 50 per cent of our staff. One morning as I entered the factory gate, I was drawn to the cries of a young woman. On enquiry, the security officer said that she had a tragedy in the family and wanted to see me. She said their crop had been devastated in a fire and, to add to their woes, her father was not traceable, though it was certain that he had not died in the inferno. Since she was the eldest of the three siblings, she badly needed the job to be able to feed her family.

She was retained on compassionate grounds. One day when I attended my office after a long leave, I saw an expensive marriage invitation card in my papers. “Balvinder weds Kulvir; venue: Royal Marriage Palace, Attari Road”.  The date of the marriage had passed so I thought of congratulating her by inviting her to my chamber. But the personnel manager said that she had resigned and left. 

Hardly a month had passed when swathe in a swanky attire she came to meet me. To initiate a dialogue I complimented her, “You look very happy. Who is the lucky one?” “Sir, he has also done 10+2 and is a helper with the village doctor. I always wanted to meet you to thank you for helping me.” “There is nothing to thank me for. You worked for the wages you got. It was no charity,” I said to relieve her of this misplaced sense of obligation.

We talked for a while. When she got up to take leave, I said, “Balvinder, something has been rankling my mind ever since I saw your marriage invitation card. May I share with you?” On getting her silent nod, I said, “You know that the wages what we pay can hardly keep the fire of the hearth burning in a family. Then how come after that devastation, your father could perform the marriage in such a grand way as your card suggests.”

Suddenly her beaming face became morose. Regaining her poise, she said, “My father sold one acre of land.” “But that fetches Rs 10-12 lakh. Do you mean that he spent Rs 10 lakh on your marriage?” I said with a tinge of disbelief. “No Sir, about six lakh on marriage and the balance was used to clear the debt of the arhtiyas (agents). Sir, being Jats we don't have any escape from the customs which the rich make. The boy's parents were very particular that the marriage be performed in a top-class venue. There were 500 invitees who were served drinks and non-vegetarian food. Apart from a motor cycle, my father gave a refrigerator and other household things. This all needed at least six lakh rupees.”

Though pained and distraught by the customs of our patriarchal society, I tried to comfort her saying, “You shouldn’t have any feeling of guilt. Every father does like this.” “But I have one younger sister too. If my father sells another acre for her marriage, only God knows how my father and brother would manage with the remaining one acre,” she shared her fears.