Fruits Of Collective Dreaming

What started as just another micro-credit scheme has developed into a whole new way of life for the women of Rajnandgaon. Once freed from the clutches of the sahukar (money-lender), the women figured it was time to do away with the thekedar as well. Labouring for Rs 35 a day in stone quarries while local strongmen walked away with the profits didn’t, after a point, make any sense.

So when district collector Dinesh Shrivastava tentatively suggested that they take over the contracts for the stone quarries, they jumped at the offer. So successful was the initial three-month lease that the women expanded their operations to other quarries. Now, more than 30 quarries are operated by them.

Named after the local deity, Maa Bamleshwri, the Rajnandgaon women’s movement started two years ago as a state-sponsored small savings programme which organised women into self-help groups or collectives. The Maa Bamleshwri Samooh (MBS) was so successful that the women collected Rs 1.75 crore in small savings. With another Rs 1.10 crore through bank linkages, the total corpus is nearly Rs 3 crore. Enough for the women to fund their various activities—and even to lend money to the very moneylenders who had exploited them for years.

The next step was to take agricultural land on lease from a local trust, which had thousands of acres at its disposal. The women cultivated the land and sold their pulses at a healthy profit. After that, there was no stopping them: they got into fish breeding, goat breeding, cycle stores and milestone manufacture.

Collector Shrivastava is the chief facilitator for the MBS—but that’s all. The emphasis is on self-reliance. The women are not encouraged to regard the government as a mai-baap. They take on the thekedar and land mafia—who’ve been hard hit by the women’s movement—on their own.

From quarries, it was a relatively short leap to manufacturing and marketing milestones. The women of Dhaba village showed the way. The quality of their milestones is better than that of other contractors. The Dhaba collective’s turnover from milestones itself is as high as Rs 1 lakh per quarter. The profits have encouraged the women to make flooring tiles as well. Says Chitralekha, who was a daily-wage labourer earning a pittance from an exploitative contractor until she joined the collective: "Business is slow right now because of the rains. But it will pick up in a fortnight."

For her and others like her, there were two defining moments in their struggle for empowerment. The first was when they stood up to musclemen while bidding for the contract to hold the weekly market. For as long as anyone could remember, the market contractor was a local strongman by the name of ‘Bihari’. The women approached the project with trepidation but emerged triumphant.

The second was when they learnt to ride a bicycle. Says Hemlata, secretary of the Dhaba collective, "Earlier we had to wait for buses or walk for miles to get to the bank, go to government offices or go for samooh meetings. Now we are independent and can go where we want." Sari-clad women, pallu firmly draped over the heads, cycling briskly about their business, are now a common sight. "Earlier, people would laugh at us. Not any more." Now, at last, it’s their turn. If you want to help in any way, contact: Dinesh Shrivastava, Rajnandgaon. (07744- 226236/37).