Sukumar Shinde, 52, who sells food items and snacks in rural fairs, said, “Because of the lockdown, I had to throw away several food items as they have a shorter shelf life.” / credit: Sanket Jain
Balu Jadhav usually journeys through 60 villages 300 days a year, selling toys and artificial jewelry in India’s “jatras,” or rural village fairs.
So if Jadhav travels less than 1,000 miles a year, that’s a sign of distress.
“In the past two years, I covered only 150 miles,” he said.
His two-decade-long routine was broken in March 2020 when far-right Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi announced a 21-day nationwide lockdown to curb a pandemic caused by COVID-19, the novel coronavirus. The lockdown was extended to 67 days, causing 121 million people to lose their jobs within the first month. Yet, with this lockdown, India couldn’t contain the coronavirus. Meanwhile, because case numbers ebbed and flowed for two years, district administrators banned fairs.
With a history of over 150 years, these fairs remain an important source of income for marginalized people. In Jadhav’s home state of Maharashtra, located on India’s Arabian Sea coast, almost every village hosts an annual fair for a couple of days. Jatras are held in reverence of local deities. Rural vendors sell a variety of items, including toys, posters of regional deities, local books, footwear, artificial jewelry, balloons and household items. “A fair is like a festival and a holiday season for rural people,” said Gangabai, Jadhav’s wife. “Everyone prepares good food, dresses up and relatives from different villages attend the fair.”
With no option for selling goods, the Jadhavs were forced to work in 10 other occupations. They labored as farmworkers and masons, and in factories, but nothing helped them earn enough to survive. “There was no regular work because COVID devastated the rural economy,” she said.
The 2022 World Inequality Report states India is one of the most unequal countries in the world. Oxfam’s Inequality Kills report mentions, “The wealth of the 10 richest men has doubled, while the incomes of 99 percent of humanity are worse off, because of COVID-19.” Further, it found that a new billionaire was created every 26 hours since the pandemic began. Meanwhile, millions like Jadhav could barely find 26 hours of work per month during the peak of the pandemic.
After two years, local administrators in the village of Jambhali in Maharashtra’s Kolhapur district were permitted to arrange a fair that would be held January 1-2. Unfortunately, while the Jadhavs assumed it would help them sail, it was far from reality.
With rising coronavirus cases in January, reporting as high as 347,254 cases one day, several COVID restrictions were implemented again.
“We earned about 3,000 rupees ($40) from every fair before the pandemic. Now we are finding it difficult even to recover the transportation cost,” Balu Jadhav said. “Ever since COVID, people have stopped spending money because of dwindling wages.”
Hundreds of vendors in the Kolhapur district protested several times outside the local administrator’s office, demanding revocation of the ban on fairs. “Despite writing hundreds of letters, nothing concretized,” Jadhav said.
Anusuya Chavan, who lives in the same village as the Jadhav family, is in her mid-40s and sells toys. “This occupation forced us to never send the children to school, and with COVID, there’s no possibility that four of my children will ever see the school.” Her children, all below 18, are busy looking for work. “Earlier, we took loans to support our business, but now we are forced to take loans for eating food twice a day. It’s that bad.” Chavan has 13 members in her joint family and is in $670 debt. Her husband, Yuvraj, 50, has spent four decades traveling to sell at fairs. “My entire life has gone sleeping on roads,” he said. “But with lockdowns and curfews, we don’t even have roads on which to sleep.”
Vendors rely on informal loans to buy items to sell and pay them off immediately after fairs. “The moneylenders send their goons for collection, and we always pay on time,” Yuvraj said. However, with no sales, several vendors have been caught in debts of at least $3,350 each. High interest-rate fees have caused those debts to amass.
Meanwhile, fear, anger and frustration pile up, with another generation missing out on obtaining an education. That leaves Jadhav to vent.
“Even our children will have to live the same cursed life now.”
A view of the Jambhali fair at night. Vendors said they had never before seen such a low turnout / credit: Sanket JainVendors sell a variety of items, including toys, posters of regional deities, local books, footwear, artificial jewelry, balloons, household items, and much more in India’s rural fairs / credit: Sanket Jain“I’ve taken both the doses of the vaccine and even follow COVID norms, yet the government hasn’t given permission for fairs,” said toyseller Yuvraj Chavan / credit: Sanket JainKanthinath Ghotane traveled from the neighboring Indian state of Karnataka state to sell keychains in the Jambhali fair of Maharashtra’s Kolhapur district / credit: Sanket JainFairs are more like festivals, and are special occasions for rural people. During these fairs, every household creates in front of their homes rangolis, a traditional Indian art form, in which patterns are created on the floor using powder, flower petals, colors, colored sand and limestone / credit: Sanket JainEveryone (irrespective of religion) first offers coconut and incense sticks in Jambhali’s Khwajaso dargah, a Muslim shrine, before entering the jatra. “These fairs are a sign of communal harmony,” said Sikandar Attar, a coconut and incense stick vendor / credit: Sanket JainSikandar Attar, 69, who travels to more than 100 villages every year, sells incense sticks and coconuts offered to regional deities. He began working at farms during the COVID-19 lockdown. Even today, he hasn’t been able to find his way through to make ends meet / credit: Sanket JainCredit: Sanket JainColorful LED-based toys are selling at a higher rate than other items / credit: Sanket JainRiyaz Latkar, 32, has been selling artificial jewelry for over a decade and said he has never seen a crisis like this / credit: Sanket JainDuring these two- to three-day fairs, vendors sleep and cook on the roadside. Kamalaxmi Bahurupi said, “I’ve spent my entire life cooking food on roadsides. I don’t know how long we will live like this.” / credit: Sanket JainArtificial jewelry is usually in high demand in the village fairs of Maharashtra. However, with people losing their livelihoods because of the pandemic lockdown, vendors have reported a steep decline in sales / credit: Sanket JainIn this stall, every item is sold for a fixed rate of Rs 10 (13 U.S. cents) / credit: Sanket JainBalu and Gangabai Jadhav were forced to work 10 different occupations as the fairs remained banned. “If there’s another lockdown, we’ll all die of starvation,” Balu said / credit: Sanket JainAs much as 70 percent of rural India lacks an internet connection. With schools shut because of the coronavirus pandemic, several children have been forced to pick this line of work to make ends meet and support their families / credit: Sanket JainHorse and bullock cart races remain a major attraction during these fairs. Here, a horse is getting ready for a race / credit: Sanket JainCredit: Sanket Jain
Sanket Jain is an independent journalist based in the Kolhapur district of the western Indian state of Maharashtra. He was a 2019 People’s Archive of Rural India fellow, for which he documented vanishing art forms in the Indian countryside. He has written for Baffler, Progressive Magazine, Counterpunch, Byline Times, The National, Popula, Media Co-op, Indian Express and several other publications.
Indigenous cereals and pulses grown by Shakila and Gulab Mullani. Top row from left: Udid (black gram), tur (pigeon pea). Bottom row from left: Kala pavtha (black beans), chavali (black-eyed pea), and kar jondhala (indigenous sorghum) / credit: Sanket Jain
Eighty-eight-year-old Sakharam Gaikwad never anticipated that farming sugarcane would become a bittersweet endeavor.
In 1972, a drought hit the western Indian state of Maharashtra. Considered one of the most devastating disasters of the last century, it affected 20 million people (57 percent of the state’s rural population) and 5.6 million—or 40 percent of—cattle.
The disaster prompted Gaikwad to move in the direction of his fellow villagers toward sugarcane cultivation. At the time, the young farmer had been growing indigenous rice varieties, and a wide collection of nutritious millets, including sorghum, finger millet, pearl millet, and little millet.
Starting in the late 1960s, he began using chemical fertilizers to cultivate hybrid sugarcane and sorghum varieties. Seeing bumper harvests in shorter periods of time, he said, “Farmers abandoned the traditional millets and moved rapidly toward sugarcane.” Year after year—during the 1970s—farmers began cultivating sugarcane in his village of Jambhali until an overwhelming majority were involved with the fast-growing plant.
Everything went well for Gaikwad until climate change disasters started destroying his crops. For instance, a 200 percent increase in rainfall in one week in October destroyed the majority of his sugarcane. In 1.5 acres, he managed to harvest 70 tons. He has noticed a drop over the last five years by almost 50 tons, costing him $1,830 per year.
However, stories like those of Gaikwad are increasing across India, with most farmers moving either toward commercial crops, like soybean and sugarcane, or hybrid varieties of indigenous crops. Last year, India reported producing 500 million metric tons of sugarcane worth 1.18 trillion Indian Rupees ($14.26 billion).
Meanwhile, in 2019, India cultivated 80 percent of traditional and hybrid millet in Asia and 20 percent of the world’s production. Grains like traditional millets that can withstand rapidly changing weather are on the decline in India. With India now having convinced the United Nations to declare 2023 the International Year of Millets, what does it mean for Indian farmers?
Farmer Vasant Kore from Sangli district’s Dongarsoni village said his family has been cultivating kar jondhala for over 120 years / credit: Sanket Jain
Farmers Say UN Designation Isn’t Enough
“Just announcing that this year is dedicated to millets doesn’t change things for the farmers,” said Amol Naik, a farmer, activist, lawyer and a member of the All India Kisan Sabha, the farmers’ wing of the Communist Party of India (Marxist). He and farmer Narayan Gaikwad, the younger brother of Sakharam Gaikwad, suggested a series of reforms to ensure fair prices to farmers.
“In several villages, we can’t even find the seeds of traditional millet varieties,” said Narayan Gaikwad, a 77-year-old activist and a farmer from Jambhali. “The government should conduct awareness sessions in villages and help farmers by ensuring a better price for millet and making traditional seeds more accessible to farmers.”
Gaikwad added that traditional seeds have become so rare that many farmers need help understanding the difference between a traditional variety and a hybrid variety.
“Just declaring a year dedicated to millets is not going to help.”
A 4-month-old kar jondhala panicle. A panicle is a loose branching cluster of flowers / credit: Sanket Jain
Why Millet Cultivation Declined
Traditional millet once was a staple food in India, helping people remain healthy. India, the sixth-highest sorghum-producing country globally, produced 4.2 million metric tons of sorghum last year, almost a 40 percent decline since 2010. Some reasons for the decline include fluctuating local climatic patterns, changing eating habits, rising heat waves, and a shift to non-native remunerative commercial and food crops.
Starting at age 17, the first crop 76-year-old Vasant Kore learned to cultivate was kar jondhala (indigenous sorghum). However, retaining the heirloom seeds wasn’t lucrative enough for many farmers. “The hybrid sorghum varieties yield double the produce as compared to traditional ones in almost half the time, whereas kar jondhala takes five months to grow,” explained Kore, who recalled hybrid sorghum varieties were introduced in his region in the 1970s.
Farmer Sambhaji Shingade, 61, from Sangli’s Garjewadi village, recounted the start of the commercialization of farming. “Many multinational corporations bought seeds from poor farmers at a meager price, developed hybrid varieties, and started selling them to the same farmers at much costlier prices. We were robbed of our traditional wealthier seeds.”
Farmer Sakharam Gaikwad, who once cultivated millets, spoke of how farming was systematically destroyed over several decades under the guise of development / credit: Sanket Jain
The rapid commercialization didn’t happen in a day. “Every government has systematically destroyed farming,” Gaikwad said. “Farming now relies on multinational companies who make these hybrid seeds and fertilizers.”
Despite the benefits of growing traditional varieties, farmers have been forced to move toward commercial crops.
“Farmers are encouraged to grow sugarcane and are rewarded by assuring them that the sugar mills will buy it,” Gaikwad said. “On the other hand, farmers are rarely given subsidies for cultivating traditional varieties that keep everyone fit, and there’s no market for such crops, forcing farmers to move toward sugarcane.”
“Also, most millets cultivated today are genetically modified hybrid varieties that promise a higher yield, but aren’t climate resistant. So, preserving the traditional varieties becomes even more critical, as they will completely vanish in a few years,” warned Vijay Jawandhiya, an activist and farmers’ leader from Maharashtra.
Gaikwad added chemical fertilizers and pesticides are now a must.
“Over the years, more and more hybrid varieties were developed and as farmers got used to them and fertilizers, the prices [of hybrid seeds and chemical fertilizers] eventually skyrocketed, making farming unaffordable.”
Shivaji Kamble said his family has been cultivating the traditional finger millet variety for over 160 years / credit: Sanket Jain
Plentiful Water and Fertilizers
When irrigation facilities started reaching Gaikwad’s village in 1964, he said everyone thought their problems had ended. “Little did they know it was the beginning of the troubling times.”
With water becoming readily available, everyone shifted to sugarcane. “Back then, there was not a single sugar mill in the region,” he said. By 2020-21, India had 506 operating sugar mills. Moreover, sugarcane requires tremendous use of chemical fertilizers and pesticides. The amount used varies based on soil conditions and climatic changes, among other factors. Also, it takes 1,500 to 2,000 liters of water to produce a kilogram of sugar. An Indian government report warns, “Most of the country’s irrigation facilities are utilized by paddy and sugarcane, depleting water availability for other crops. Pressure on water due to sugarcane cultivation in states like Maharashtra has become a serious concern, calling for more efficient and sustainable water use through alternative cropping pattern.”
Despite its problems, farmers say they aren’t left with an option. “Cultivating the traditional variety is unaffordable. It takes a lot of time to grow, and even the production is less,” Gaikwad explained.
Today, Shivaji Kamble and his wife, Draupadi Kamble, remain the handful of farmers who have managed to preserve the traditional maize variety / credit: Sanket Jain
Traditional sorghum varieties don’t require chemical fertilizers and are resistant to extreme climate events like heat waves. In addition, they can grow in drought conditions and water-logged soils, withstand salinity and alkalinity, and they are resistant to pests. Saline soil has excessive amounts of soluble salts, which hamper plants’ ability to absorb water. Meanwhile, alkaline soil contains high levels of sodium, calcium and magnesium.
Most farmers face this dilemma of losing their hybrid crops to climate change disasters or reporting lesser produce with traditional crops.
Dongarsoni farmers found a workaround by growing a lot of grapes, which unfortunately require tremendous use of insecticides, herbicides, and other toxic pesticides. “The farmers here earn a lot of money from grapes by exporting them. So they can retain the traditional crops in their vacant land,” explained farmer Gulab Mullani, 41, who follows the same approach.
However, a significant challenge for farmers like Gaikwad, who long ago abandoned the crops, comes from birds and animals eating produce. “One farmer cannot report sustainable profits if other farmers predominantly cultivate cash crops. This is because the majority of the millet produce remains a feed for birds and wild boars,” Jawandiya explained. “When there are large patches of farmland with the same traditional crop, the loss caused by birds and animals isn’t felt much.”
Another reason for abandoning millet is its lower price and lack of a regulated market, often pushing farmers into losses. “With the rise of cash crops, the labor cost increased, but the prices of traditional grains haven’t increased much. Hence, agricultural laborers aren’t paid enough for harvesting millets, forcing farmers to shift to other crops,” Jawandhiya added.
Farmer Gulab Mullani holding a kar jondhala stalk, which grows up to 15 feet and is nutritious fodder for cattle / credit: Sanket Jain
Building Sustainable Food Systems with Millet
Millets, especially sorghum, were once a staple food in India and Africa. About 500 million people in more than 30 countries depend on sorghum as a staple food, according to the International Crop Research Institute for the Semi-Arid Tropics. The study found that over two-thirds of Indians consume foods deficient in protein and essential micronutrients, such as zinc, iron and vitamin A.
Cultivating indigenous millets has been lifesaving for drought-affected farmers like Kore. They help control blood sugar levels, are rich in iron, fiber, and proteins, and improve heart health, among other benefits, over the hybrid varieties. In addition, their pest-resistant ability, tolerance to higher temperatures, and need for minimal rainfall make them an environment-friendly crop.
Moreover, traditional millet varieties don’t require chemical fertilizers. “Even if you apply chemical fertilizers and pesticides, the crop will still grow in their natural timing only,” Kore said with a laugh, “so there’s no point wasting money.”
Gaikwad uses a simple observation to predict the rising cases of several lifestyle diseases. “Just look at what people eat.”
Earlier, eating flatbreads made of traditional sorghum, finger, and pearl millet was the norm. Finger millet, compared with other millets, remains a rich source of minerals and protein, as well as calcium. In addition, it has been used to raise iron levels in anemia patients.
Now, they are replaced with hybrid wheat or rice varieties. Today, 3.5 billion people globally are at risk of calcium deficiency, with more than 90 percent of them from Asia and Africa.
Plus, millet stalks remain an excellent cattle feed. “Many farmers have retained the traditional millets only for their cattle,” Gaikwad said. Cattle dung, a much cheaper source of organic fertilizer, keeps the soil nutrient-rich and helps build sustainable farming cycles.
“With millets gone, this entire cycle has collapsed,” Kore said.
Kar Jondhala (indigenous sorghum variety) is now grown only in the drought-prone regions of Maharashtra’s Sangli district / credit: Sanket Jain
Spike In Chemical Fertilizers
While the hybrid varieties promise a higher yield in lesser time, they require maintenance through the application of pesticides and chemical fertilizers. Kore added he has found it difficult to cultivate crops without using chemical fertilizers on the field where he grows hybrid varieties, commercial crops or grapes. “The soil is now used to chemicals and hybrid varieties. I think it will take several years to reverse this.”
His observation is a stark reality as globally, the consumption of nitrogen fertilizers reached 190.81 million metric tons in 2019, a 312 percent rise since 1965. Also, chemical pesticide usage has surged over 57 percent since 1990, as its consumption has now reached 2.7 million metric tons.
While this helps a crop survive to a certain extent, it has been found to provoke oxidative stress that causes Parkinson’s Disease, respiratory and reproductive tract disorders, Alzheimer’s Disease, different types of cancer, and much more, according to a 2018 study in the journal, Environmental Toxicology and Pharmacology.
Looking at the younger generation’s experience with chemical farming, Kore’s brother, Shivaji, 67, of Dongarsoni village, never cultivated the hybrid sorghum. “Of the three acres of land I own, I have reserved an acre only for kar jondhala,” he says.
Farmers Shakila and Gulab Mullani have been preserving the kar jondhala seeds for more than 30 years / credit: Sanket Jain
Preserving a Heritage
While kar jondhala fetches almost double the price of hybrid varieties, it has much less demand. “The younger generation doesn’t know its importance,” Kore said. He recalled the 1970s when traditional sorghum was treated as a currency. “People would exchange it for buying daily items.”
Farmers, like Kore, have now taken it upon themselves to help preserve this crop. In villages like Dongarsoni, farmers still use the traditional barter system to exchange heirloom seeds.
Gaikwad, however, said not all hope is lost. “It’s not that all the traditional varieties have completely disappeared. They are still there, but one will have to travel a lot to find them because very few farmers have preserved them.”
Farmers like Kore and Mullani have now taken it upon themselves to preserve the traditional millets. “I will keep cultivating traditional sorghum until the time I die,” Kore said, smiling as he gestured to his field.
Sanket Jain is an independent journalist based in the Kolhapur district of the western Indian state of Maharashtra. He was a 2019 People’s Archive of Rural India fellow, for which he documented vanishing art forms in the Indian countryside. He has written for Baffler, Progressive Magazine, Counterpunch, Byline Times, The National, Popula, Media Co-op, Indian Express and several other publications.
Kastura Chougule holding her son’s sledgehammer, which remains his last memory / credit: Sanket Jain
Kastura Chougule couldn’t sleep despite having worked 15 hours in the field.
“I was exhausted, but something didn’t feel right,” she recollected. It was half past midnight. Small, shriveled and in her early 70s, Chougule managed to muster enough strength to stretch her muscles and quickly walk toward the adjoining tin shanty.
Her son, Vijay, was sitting on the floor, covering his entire forehead with his hands.
“What’s wrong, son? What’s bothering you?” she asked in the vernacular Marathi language.
Vijay, in his mid-30s, didn’t reply, nor was he aware she had entered the room. After she asked multiple times, he replied, “Go to sleep. It’s too late.” It was the last his mother would see him. By nine in the morning, family members wondered why Vijay hadn’t woken up yet. By the time they had rushed to the house, Vijay, a stone cutter from the western Indian state of Maharashtra’s Jambhali village, was found hanging inside his shanty.
Climate change impacts such as floods, heat waves, cyclones, landslides and other disasters have made more than 5 million hectares of land (12.3 million acres) unusable, pushing more people into poverty across India / credit: Sanket Jain
Economy Grows, While Poor Left Behind
Vijay was one of 153,052 people who died by suicide in 2020. A year later, this number increased by 7 percent to 164,033 suicides, as per India’s National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) which releases suicide figures every year. This marked the highest annual count since 1967, the year the NCRB began recording. India also witnessed a 10 percent increase in suicides between 2019 and 2020.
Last month, however, India became the fifth-largest economy, overtaking the United Kingdom. However, a United Nations Development Program (UNDP) report released in the same week found India ranked 132nd out of 191 countries on the Human Development Index. It has slipped to two spots since 2020.
Moreover, for the first time, daily wage laborers comprised more than 25 percent of suicide cases. In 2014, they made up only 12 percent of suicides, which means this portion of the Indian population’s suicides has increased by 113 percent.
Within the first month of India’s nationwide lockdown starting March 2020, 122 million people lost their jobs, estimated the Centre for Monitoring Indian Economy, a private company. Daily wage laborers and small traders comprised roughly 75 percent. A report found that a year of the lockdown pushed 230 million Indians into poverty. By the end of 2020, 15 million workers were still out of jobs, including Vijay.
Shrirang Chougule, holding his son’s photo: “Even today, I can’t believe my son who was so strong and gave all of us hope died by suicide.” / credit: Sanket Jain
‘We Never Imagined Life Would Break Him So Much’
“Ever since the lockdown, he was home most of the time. Moreover, construction work came to a halt in most places, which further affected his work,” says his father, Shrirang, who’s in his early 80s now.
Vijay left behind his sledge hammer, which weighs much more than what Kastura can lift.
“This is my son’s last sign,” she says tearfully. She spends most of the time staring at the ten kilograms (22 pounds) hammer.
“Suicide was the last thing he would contemplate,” she says. “For all of us, he was a support system, and we never imagined life would break him so much.”
Inside a crematorium in Maharashtra’s Kolhapur district in 2021. As per India’s National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB), 164,033 people died by suicide in 2021, a 17-percent increase since 2019 / credit: Sanket Jain
What Drove Vijay to Suicide?
A daily wage earner, he earned roughly 300 Indian Rupees ($3.50) for 10 hours of work breaking stones and boulders. He would hoist his hammer at least 4,000 times a day.
“For 6 to 7 months, he didn’t get enough work, which stressed him tremendously,” said his niece, Manisha, 22. When India lifted its nationwide lockdown after 67 days, Vijay found a few days’ work. “While using a tile cutter machine, he met with an accident and lost one of his fingers,” Manisha said.
This was a major blow as he found it extremely difficult to work now. “The task of breaking boulders using a mere hammer comes with no security, and he ended up permanently injuring one of his fingers a year before,” Shrirang said.
Still, Vijay tried breaking stones but couldn’t work with his previous intensity. Further, local lockdowns brought an end to whatever bare minimum work he got.
To undergo surgery for his fingers, he took out a medical loan of 200,000 Rupees ($2,500). “After this surgery, he wasn’t the same. He rarely spoke,” Manisha said. Two months later, he was diagnosed with severe dengue which permanently broke him.
“A few days before the suicide, he told me, ‘What’s the point of living now?’” Shrirang recounted, adding he tried every possible way to convince Vijay not to give up. “I even told him I would help him start a new business.”
Lawyer Amol Naik (brown shirt) has been unionizing daily wage laborers and farmers in India’s Maharashtra state to press for better policies that protect workers / credit: Sanket Jain
‘A Much Larger Problem’
The World Inequality Report 2022 mentioned the top 10 percent in India hold 57 percent of the national wealth, while the bottom 50 percent merely own 13 percent. “India stands out as a poor and very unequal country, with an affluent elite,” the report remarked.
“The stark inequality talks of a much larger problem,” says Amol Naik, a lawyer who is a member of All India Kisan Sabha, the farmers’ wing of the Communist Party of India (Marxist). “With the rapid increase in privatization, many public schools, hospitals and other important institutions that serve the poor have been completely destroyed. Moreover, with the rising inflation, the daily wage earners are caught in a tremendous debt cycle, with no support system.”
Further, in 2021, climate change impacts such as floods, heat waves, cyclones, landslides and other disasters have made more than 5 million hectares of land (12.3 million acres) unusable, pushing more people into poverty.
Vimal Ugale, in her 70s, does farm work to make ends meet. “Even today, I don’t know why my son thought of suicide.” / credit: Sanket Jain
Inadequate Mental Healthcare
In September 2021, Vishal Ugale told his sister that he wanted to rest for a while, so that he could leave for work in the evening. However, he never went to work.
The Ugale family had gathered to celebrate an auspicious occasion at 5:30 p.m.
“We were all dialing Vishal to start the auspicious ceremony, but he wouldn’t take our calls,” recalled his mother, Vimal Ugale. No one knew what exactly had happened.
“A few hours later, it was found that Vishal died by suicide in a public veterinary hospital,” said his sister, Savita Khondre.
A resident of Jambhali village in Maharashtra’s Kolhapur district, Vishal tended furnaces in factories and textile mills. “This work often affected him so much that he drank alcohol occasionally to forget his stress,” said Savita. “But since COVID, he started drinking quite frequently.”
Ugale, a farmworker in her early 70s, said she never knew the reason behind his suicide.
“Every few weeks, he would frustratingly say, ‘Why was I born in this household? I don’t want to live anymore,’” she recounted.
Ugale often spent hours talking to Vishal, asking what help he needed. But he wouldn’t say a word.
Flood-affected daily-wage laborers and farmworkers protesting against the rapidly rising cost of living and inflation in Maharashtra’s Shirol block / credit: Sanket Jain
The Taboo of Mental-Health Care
Vishal became more stressed after COVID induced lockdowns, said Khondre. Jambhali, which has a population of roughly 5,000 people, reported more than seven suicides in 2021, as per official records from the village sub-center. A sub-center is the first point of public healthcare for community members.
“Mostly people talk to us about physical illnesses,” said medical officer Dr. Vasanti Patil, under whose care this village falls. “They never mention mental-health problems because it is still considered a taboo in the villages.”
During the lockdown, she observed deteriorating mental health among several villagers, especially the ones who owed loans. “There are so many cases of rising debt, and with dwindling work during COVID, many people were stressed, which further affected them,” she said.
For a population of 1.3 billion people, India has 9,000 psychiatrists and 1,000 psychologists, as per research published in the Indian Journal of Psychiatry. That comes to 1 mental-health professional for every 130,000 Indians.
“Many villages don’t have adequate mental healthcare facilities, leaving people alone, further pushing them [to] the brink of suicide,” shared Naik, who has organized several protests in Maharashtra’s Kolhapur district and also accompanied many protests that marched to Mumbai, the country’s financial capital, to draw attention to the plight of farm workers and daily-wage laborers. “During these protests, almost everyone talks of the rising stress and the rapidly increasing cost of living.”
During the first wave of COVID, India witnessed a large-scale reverse migration, whereby workers returned to villages because they either had lost jobs or had no work. Many daily-wage laborers walked hundreds of miles to reach their villages.
“However, there wasn’t much work in the fields, and many people had no option to earn enough, further stressing them. During this time, the cases of substance abuse increased rapidly,” says community healthcare worker Bharti Kamble.
In her Bolakewadi village of Maharashtra, over half of the villagers migrate to India’s financial capital—Mumbai, working as daily-wage laborers. “All of these factors impacted almost everyone’s mental health.”
Ugale still thinks about what affected her son so much. She has spent several hours talking to Vishal’s friends. But, so far, she hasn’t found anything concrete.
“He left us with many questions, to which we won’t be able to find answers in an entire lifetime.”
If you are experiencing suicidal thoughts or know someone who needs help, please call India’s 24-hour, toll-free national mental-health helpline dubbed “Kiran” at 1 (800) 599-0019 or any of these helplines near you. For the United States, dial 988.
Sanket Jain is an independent journalist based in the Kolhapur district of the western Indian state of Maharashtra. He was a 2019 People’s Archive of Rural India fellow, for which he documented vanishing art forms in the Indian countryside. He has written for Baffler, Progressive Magazine, Counterpunch, Byline Times, The National, Popula, Media Co-op, Indian Express and several other publications.
A Saharawi refugee camp in the Tindouf province of Algeria / credit: European Commission DG ECHO
Editor’s Note: The following represents the writer’s analysis about a disputed area known as “Western Sahara” and was produced byGlobetrotter.
In November 2020, the Moroccan government sent its military to the Guerguerat area, a buffer zone between the territory claimed by the Kingdom of Morocco and the Sahrawi Arab Democratic Republic (SADR). The Guerguerat border post is at the very southern edge of Western Sahara along the road that goes to Mauritania. The presence of Moroccan troops “in the Buffer Strip in the Guerguerat area” violated the 1991 ceasefire agreed upon by the Moroccan monarchy and the Polisario Front of the Sahrawi. That ceasefire deal was crafted with the assumption that the United Nations would hold a referendum in Western Sahara to decide on its fate; no such referendum has been held, and the region has existed in stasis for three decades now.
Map of the disputed Western Sahara, with a red pin marking the location of Guerguerat, a town on the border with Mauritania / credit: Google
In mid-January 2022, the United Nations sent its Personal Envoy for Western Sahara, Staffan de Mistura, to Morocco, Algeria and Mauritania to begin a new dialogue “toward a constructive resumption of the political process on Western Sahara.” De Mistura was previously deputed to solve the crises of U.S. wars in Afghanistan, Iraq and Syria; none of his missions have ended well and have mostly been lost causes. The UN has appointed five personal envoys for Western Sahara so far—including De Mistura—beginning with former U.S. Secretary of State James Baker III, who served from 1997 to 2004. De Mistura, meanwhile, succeeded former German President Horst Köhler, who resigned in 2019. Köhler’s main achievement was to bring the four main parties—Morocco, the Polisario Front, Algeria and Mauritania—to a first roundtable discussion in Geneva in December 2018: this roundtable process resulted in a few gains, where all participants agreed on “cooperation and regional integration,” but no further progress seems to have been made to resolve the issues in the region since then. When the UN put forward De Mistura’s nomination to this post, Morocco had initially resisted his appointment. But under pressure from the West, Morocco finally accepted his appointment in October 2021, with Moroccan Foreign Minister Nasser Bourita welcoming him to Rabat on January 14. De Mistura also met the Polisario Front representative to the UN in New York on November 6, 2021, before meeting other representatives in Tindouf, Algeria, at Sahrawi refugee camps in January. There is very little expectation that these meetings will result in any productive solution in the region.
Abraham Accords
In August 2020, the United States government engineered a major diplomatic feat called the Abraham Accords. The United States secured a deal with Morocco and the United Arab Emirates to agree to a rapprochement with Israel in return for the United States making arms sales to these countries, as well as for the United States legitimizing Morocco’s annexation of Western Sahara. The arms deals were of considerable amounts—$23 billion worth of weapons to the UAE and $1 billion worth of drones and munitions to Morocco. For Morocco, the main prize was that the United States—breaking decades of precedent—decided to back its claim to the vast territory of Western Sahara. The United States is now the only Western country to recognize Morocco’s claim to sovereignty over Western Sahara.
When President Joe Biden took office in January 2021, it was expected that he might review parts of the Abraham Accords. However, U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken made it clear during his meeting with Bourita in November 2021 that the U.S. government would continue to maintain the position taken by the previous Trump administration that Morocco has sovereignty over Western Sahara. The United States, meanwhile, has continued with its arms sales to Morocco, but has suspended weapons sales to the United Arab Emirates.
Phosphates
By the end of November 2021, the government of Morocco announced that it had earned $6.45 billion from the export of phosphate from the kingdom and from the occupied territory of Western Sahara. If you add up the phosphate reserves in this entire region, it amounts to 72 percent of the entire phosphate reserves in the world (the second-highest percentage of these reserves is in China, which has around 6 percent). Phosphate, along with nitrogen, makes synthetic fertilizer, a key element in modern food production. While nitrogen is recoverable from the air, phosphates, found in the soil, are a finite reserve. This gives Morocco a tight grip over world food production. There is no doubt that the occupation of Western Sahara is not merely about national pride, but it is largely about the presence of a vast number of resources—especially phosphates—that can be found in the territory.
Detailed map of Western Sahara, showing borders with Morocco, Algeria and Mauritania / credit: Kmusser, based primarily on the Digital Chart of the World, with UN map and commercial atlases (Rand McNally, Google, Encarta, and National Geographic) used as references
In 1975, a UN delegation that visited Western Sahara noted that “eventually the territory will be among the largest exporters of phosphate in the world.” While Western Sahara’s phosphate reserves are less than those of Morocco, the Moroccan state-owned firm OCP SA has been mining the phosphate in Western Sahara and manufacturing phosphate fertilizer for great profit. The most spectacular mine in Western Sahara is in Bou Craa, from which 10 percent of OCP SA’s profits come; Bou Craa, which is known as “the world’s longest conveyor belt system,” carries the phosphate rock more than 60 miles to the port at El Aaiún. In 2002, the UN’s Under-Secretary General for Legal Affairs at that time, Hans Corell, noted in a letter to the president of the UN Security Council that “if further exploration and exploitation activities were to proceed in disregard of the interests and wishes of the people of Western Sahara, they would be in violation of the principles of international law applicable to mineral resource activities in Non-Self-Governing Territories.” An international campaign to prevent the extraction of the “conflict phosphate” from Western Sahara by Morocco has led many firms around the world to stop buying phosphate from OCP SA. Nutrien, the largest fertilizer manufacturer in the United States that used Moroccan phosphates, decided to stop imports from Morocco in 2018. That same year, the South African court challenged the right of ships carrying phosphate from the region to dock in their ports, ruling that “the Moroccan shippers of the product had no legal right to it.”
Only three known companies continue to buy conflict phosphate mined in Western Sahara: Two from New Zealand (Ballance Agri-Nutrients Limited and Ravensdown) and one from India (Paradeep Phosphates Limited).
Human Rights
After the 1991 ceasefire, the UN set up a Mission for the Referendum in Western Sahara (MINURSO). This is the only UN peacekeeping force that does not have a mandate to report on human rights. The UN made this concession to appease the Kingdom of Morocco. The Moroccan government has tried to intervene several times when the UN team in Western Sahara attempted to make the slightest noise about the human rights violations in the region. In March 2016, the kingdom expelled MINURSO staff because then-UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon referred to the Moroccan presence in Western Sahara as an “occupation.”
Pressure from the United States is going to ensure that the only realistic outcome of negotiations is for continued Moroccan control of Western Sahara. All parties involved in the conflict are readying for battle. Far from peace, the Abraham Accords are going to accelerate a return to war in this part of Africa.