On my third and most recent visit in October, the family had made further efforts to improve their livelihood. They had leased a small piece of farm land from a relative for five years. On this, they had grown their staple food of millet and lentils. This was wise as it would reduce their expenses on food and ensure that the family’s granary was full for the coming year. But Bhavnaben seemed worried; unless the family could increase their income, she might be forced to get her eldest daughter, 14-year-old Chandrika, married off. The incentive would be the dowry they would receive from the bridegroom’s family (the Agaria tribe follows a system of reverse dowry).
My most recent visit to the family reminded me of the many pitfalls in the climb out of poverty. Chandrika had been pulled out of school to look after the household so that Bhavnaben could spend more time at work alongside her husband. The eldest son’s schooling had also been cut short; he was needed to man the shop. Although the three younger children were still in school, how much they were actually learning was another question. I strongly suspected that Kumar, the second son, was being taken out to work on the salt pans. All parents dream of giving their children a better future. But poor families’ inability to cope without their children’s labour invariably compromises the one thing that can make a real difference—education. The question continues to nag me: Will Bhavnaben’s children ever be able to avail of the new opportunities provided by India’s booming economy?
Health services also remain a huge problem, causing many poor people to slip back into poverty despite their best efforts. An illness means the loss of precious work days, and a consequent set-back in income. Medical care is not easy to come by, local doctors are not particularly qualified, and it is both expensive and time-consuming to go to the bigger towns for attention. Bhavnaben had been unable to access any decent medical services for her son, Kumar, who had apparently been suffering from a series of illnesses for the past several years.
What, then, can their future hold? When I tried to talk to Mangabhai about his financial planning for the time he can no longer work, he looked at me with glazed eyes. He had absolutely no idea. “The poor don’t have the luxury of looking into the future,” Bhavnaben said.
Standing next to Bhavnaben I feel small—her ability to cope under extreme conditions is remarkable. There is also an enormous dignity, both within the family and the community. They display great respect for each other and share what little they have with a disarming openness. Yet, they are subjected to a lot of indignity, mostly by outsiders who look down upon them and treat them as fodder for exploitation.
All in all, I came away feeling that although things were looking better, life was still very tough for Bhavnaben and her family, and progress on the ground was painfully slow. Yet, I am optimistic, led by the family’s own tremendous resilience and willingness to improve its condition bit by bit. But this process must be helped and speeded up if growth with inclusion is to be the goal of India’s remarkable advancement.
What will it take to provide new and more lucrative employment opportunities, the right kind of service delivery in health, education and infrastructure, better access to markets and finance, and the right kind of safety nets for families such as Bhavnaben’s to escape deprivation and poverty?