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A once well-off family of farmers that owned 200 bighas of land on Delhi's outskirts today relies on a rickety rickshaw for daily bread and deliverance. The 55-year-old ferries people up and down the five-km stretch between Anand Vihar, east Delhi and Mohan Nagar, Ghaziabad for a living. This has been his lot in life for several decades. But before a state-mandated acquisition of land for industrial development robbed them of their resources, the Raghavs were well-to-do wheat farmers. Today, the area where their ancestral 200-bigha farmland once stood has turned into a site of frenzied urban expansion. This part of Ghaziabad is flanked by the residential colonies of Vasundhara and Vaishali on one side and the Sahibabad Industrial Area Site 4 on the other.
The area is dotted with cavernous shopping malls that deliver retail nirvana to a population flush with cash. It also has numerous residential skyscrapers occupied by representatives of a burgeoning, upwardly mobile middle class, swanky business parks that house the nation's top companies, luxury hotels and an array of thriving industrial units.
That's one part of the India growth story that we always hear ' and applaud. Jagdish's story is the flip side. It is a story of loss, deprivation and despair. He is a flesh-and-blood throwback to the fictional Shambhu, the small farmer that Balraj Sahni played in Bimal Roy's 1953 classic, Do Bigha Zameen.
Nearly six decades on, two bighas have given way to 200, and the rural moneylender of yore has been replaced by a complex network of urban exploiters. But like Shambhu, who migrated to the big city to earn the money he needed to reclaim his land from a merciless zamindar, Jagdish has been reduced to pulling a rickshaw in an uncaring urban jungle. He toils day in and day out in and around the very area where his family was once counted among the wealthiest peasants.
Jagdish can barely conceal his anger and frustration as news filters in about the agitation by farmers in Aligarh and elsewhere against the acquisition of land for the under-construction Yamuna Expressway. They are demanding the same quantum of compensation that was paid to farmers in Noida and Greater Noida. 'If only my forefathers had launched a similar agitation, I probably wouldn't have been a rickshaw-puller,' he says.
He has a piece of advice for the Aligarh farmers, who, he believes, will also end up as rickshaw-pullers or daily wage workers one day. 'The compensation that they receive today will be gone in 10 to 20 years. They, too, will face a plight similar to ours. My son and I pull hired rickshaws. We don't have the means to buy our own rickshaws,' he says. 'Who gave the government the right to snatch our land and hand it over to builders and the wealthy? I often feel like setting these factories on fire',' Jagdish's voice trails off even as his hands begin to tremble. He is seething with rage, but he is, quite palpably, completely helpless.
As flashy SUVs, sedans and hatchbacks zip in and out of the group housing societies and shopping malls of Ghaziabad, the manually pulled rickshaws are forever weaving their way around and through the chaotic traffic. Life hangs by a string here.
It is a tough calling, but those of Jagdish's ilk have no choice. Rickshaw-pullers in this part of the National Capital Region (NCR) are predominantly farmers who have lost their agricultural land to the urban and industrial development wave. Some are from nearby villages, others from neighboring states.
Shopping malls dominate the Ghaziabad-Sahibabad skyline. Galaxy is one of the many that have come up here in the past few years. It is behind Galaxy Mall that Jagdish lives in his ancestral home in Karkar model village. Galaxy is an imposing new structure. Jagdish's 60-yard dwelling is a cramped and crumbling semblance of a home. As a teenager, Jagdish lived in a house that had verandahs running all around it. The residence was almost as big as Galaxy Mall. In a span of 35 years, it has shrunk into a little cubbyhole that forms part of a squalid shantytown.
Around 35 years ago, the state government, citing 'public interest', notified and acquired the land that the Raghav family owned. The Uttar Pradesh Industrial Development Corporation carved several plots out of the land and allotted them to industrialists. Jagdish says, 'The land is worth millions of rupees today. It was snatched from us. We got peanuts by way of compensation.'
He shows us a glass factory. It stands on his land. The factory supplies bottles to wine and beer manufacturers. 'I did get a job in this factory after much effort, but lost it within a month. I have been a rickshaw-puller since,' Jagdish reveals.
He continues: 'In the 1980s, we were paid one rupee ten paise per sq meter for our land. Today one sq meter costs lakhs of rupees. Had the government left some of the land for us, our children would have owned factories here.'
Jagdish has three unemployed sons. The eldest, 35-year-old Raju, is married and pulls a rickshaw to run his family. His other two sons, Dilip and Pradeep, cannot even think of marriage. They are unemployed and their future seems bleak. So they do not want to add to the burden of the poverty-stricken family.
Jagdish, however, managed to marry off his three daughters. 'I borrowed for their weddings. I have a debt of over Rs 1lakh. Every month I pay Rs 4000 as interest on the loan,' he says.
Says Dilip: 'The factory owners do not even let us venture near ancestral land. Getting a job is one of these units is out of the question.' The youngest of the male siblings, Pradeep, explains why the locals are shunned by the factory owners. 'They feel that we could spell trouble if we unite and oppose the exploitation we are subjected to. So they prefer people from other states. Outsiders are more amenable to control and accept any salary and terms that are offered to them.' Jagdish's wife, Rajeshwari, was employed in a garment factory. Five years ago, the unit relocated from Sahibabad to Gurgaon. Rajeshwari hasn't found another job. In the 1970s, the UP government, in furtherance of the Nehruvian model of industrial development, sought to create a climate for rapid growth in this area. On the Delhi-Ghaziabad border, as elsewhere in the country, farmers were sacrificed at the altar of economic progress. Between 1969 and 1978, the state government took 1495 acres from six villages for Sahibabad Industrial Area Site 4.
Large tracts of agricultural land were acquired in Karkar model village as well. Initially, land acquisition was necessitated by the need to set up new industrial units. In the 1990s, post-economic liberalisation, all the remaining farm areas were mopped up for the construction of residential blocks.
Chailu Singh Raghav, 80, still remembers the day when bulldozers rumbled into his village and crushed the wheat crop. The illiterate villagers could not quite comprehend what was happening. They were too shell-shocked to react.
Chailu Singh says, 'The government acquired around 160 bigha. We haven't received any compensation till date. In 1979 the government gave us an interim grant of Rs 1100 per bigha. Now that amount is being passed off as our compensation. We have been cheated. So we are fighting a legal battle ever since.'
Many erstwhile farmers of Karkar model village are in the same soup. This village of 10,000 people is now just another urban slum. About 50,000 migrant workers reside here in small rooms rented out by farmers who need to supplement their income.
The locals here are mostly Thakurs who once lorded over acres of land. Many of them are today daily wage workers. Some have opened small groceries, vegetable kiosks and sweetmeat shops.
Others like 62-year-old Gyan Chand Raghav have become carpenters. He once had 12 acres of land. He says, 'The government betrayed us. They never gave us our compensation. By the time we realised what the intentions of the government were, it was too late.'
In 1992, Gyan Chand reveals, the local people launched a movement and staged a dharna at the district magistrate's office. They sought justice. What they got was imprisonment.'
The youth constitute half of Karkar's population. Most of the 5,000 young people here are unemployed and work as daily wagers. There is strong discontent among this generation of deprived farmers. That is why the villagers did not celebrate Independence Day this year.
Sushil Raghav, a young journalist who spearheads the ongoing fight for justice for the Karkar farmers, says: 'What freedom? Our land was taken away. There are no employment opportunities here. The government treats us like slaves.'
Two and a half years ago, a Land Reforms Council was constituted under the chairmanship of Prime Minister Manmohan Singh to look into the grievances of farmers around the country. The council has not met even once to date. Social activist Medha Patkar, says: "Land acquisition laws are in need of sweeping changes. We have submitted a draft to Mrs Gandhi and she has forwarded it to the Union Cabinet." Moreover, the parliamentary standing committee of the Union rural development ministry has recommended the introduction of a new Act to replace the one formulated by the British. But there has been no significant forward movement in this regard.
No wonder resentment runs deep among the youth of Karkar. 'We gave our land. In return we were neither given any alternative plot nor a job,' says Sushil. The Land Acquisition Act of 1894 clearly provides that if land is taken from a farmer for setting up a factory, at least one member of the affected family will be absorbed by the new industrial establishment. 'This law,' says Sushil, "also provides for rehabilitation of the farmers. But that provision has remained on paper. We don't have jobs, no compensation and no hope of rehabilitation.'
Youngsters of Karkar not only want government jobs but also ten per cent of the land they surrendered. Their land was acquired ostensibly to bolster industrial growth and, by extension, employment opportunities. But the only people who have benefitted are big-time builders and wealthy entrepreneurs. The rapid mushrooming of factories has led to environmental degradation. Locals allege that many residents have died of cancer in the area in recent years.
Sushil says: "Our land was acquired for industries. But now officials and industrialists are changing the land use and constructing malls, multiplexes and five-star hotels. On my plot, a five-star hotel and shopping complex have been constructed. When I registered my objection, the administration told me if the purpose of acquiring the land was not served, I would get my plot back at the price at which it was originally acquired.'
If land acquired for industries is used for the construction of a commercial property, it is mandatory to change the land use. It is a long-drawn process. An advertisement has to be published in a daily asking the public whether they have any objections regarding the matter.
Sushil says, 'Usually there are no advertisements. When I filed an RTI plea, I received no reply for 11 months. But it probably alerted the administration. Some advertisements regarding land use were inserted in English newspapers. Farmers here cannot read English.
The villagers have lodged a protest against this ruse.'
Karkar is only one of thousands of Indian villages that have been left behind, if not completely crushed, by the wheels of industrial development. As India shines bright, the world of these hapless farmers plunges deeper and deeper into darkness. Jagdish Raghav and his rickety rickshaw can only go round in circles. There does not seem to be a way out of this morass.
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