Farmers, migrants, labourers: On the margins of COVID-19

COVID-19 has uncovered the ugly face of our social formations, it has exposed all the Machiavellian manoeuvrings we invent on a regular basis to exploit those who make our survival possible. Many people see it as a suitable moment to vent their deep-seated communal and racist prejudices.

You may actually be able to fight COVID-19 better if you are well-fed rather than surviving on meagre or no meals for weeks. A small group of elites call the shots in connivance with politically powerful across the world.

Those on the margins of society are the first target. Farmers, whom Faiz Ahmed Faiz called ‘baadshah-e-jahaan’ (the king of the world), must be named first. We are told that our granaries are full and that we should distribute the grain rather than let it rot. We are also told that it costs more to store it.

Indeed, we should do so-- sooner the better. What we are not told is that so many farmers can’t have their harvests cropped even though they are ripe. Rains may ruin them. The governments would rather wait than do a favour to the farmer. In spite of a series of farmer suicides, starvation deaths and national level protests, the cry of the farmer has not been heard. The case of the Dalits and tribal communities is not very different.

Consider for example the case of the Sahariyas of the Baran district of Rajasthan. Sahariyas are dependent upon forest (Sahara) for every need including livelihood, social life, family and everything else and have marginal agricultural incomes. Under new laws, they hardly have any control over their forests. The government schemes planned for the welfare of such people hardly reach them as planned. An important scheme like MGNREGA could be central to their lives. They are supposed to get employment for 200 days at Rs. 173 per day. In practice, they get employment for about 100 days only, in remote blocks such as Chhabra, Chhipabard and Anta and Mangrol, the work of MGNREGA has been discontinued for about two to three years.

Next, we must turn to the ‘migrant workers’ and factory labour who build the bungalows and flats we live in and produce all the other essential and non-essential things we buy but who are themselves forced to live in slums such as Dharavi. It is estimated that over 60% of our population lives in such urban and semi-urban slums. Imagine preaching ‘social distancing’ and ‘washing hands with soap several times a day’ to them. Often six or more people will live in a room that at best maybe 10 by 8 square feet. This room is their kitchen, dining hall, living room and bedroom. They have problems getting drinking water. How can they maintain social distance and wash hands frequently? The least the government can do is to ensure enough food reaches them and pay their rent during this period.

There are then those who ferry us around the city driving autos and taxis. We suddenly thought Ola and Uber had solved all our problems. And when the lockdown came, the middle class and the rich continue to get their supplies while staying safe. What about the people who normally used to supply our daily provisions like fruits, vegetables and grains? What about those who maintain our water and sewerage systems and those mais and bhais who sustained our households?

Even for the doctors and medical staff who are risking their lives on frontlines, we have been not able to provide sufficient safety gear. What the authorities have succeeded in doing is to create a sense of fear. We are happy to be tracked and obey diktats. A new world, one that is worse, is in the making.

(The author retired as Professor of Linguistics from the University of Delhi.)