1914 | A small British port
1964 | A post-cyclone ghost town
Today, after being abandoned for all these years, the 400-odd fishing families are seen as obstacles to tourism. The what, when, and how of it. 🧵
2 | After the cyclone, Dhanushkodi was left in a state of total neglect. However, 400-odd fish worker families still see this barren land as their only home. Some of them are cyclone survivors who've been living here for over 50 years without electricity, toilets or potable water
3 | Dhanushkodi is around 20 kms from Rameswaram. Tourists and pilgrims come here in vans that ply on the marshy terrain along the beach. The government is planning new and better roads to improve connectivity and draw in more visitors.
4 | The entire train that was submerged during the 1964 cyclone; the ruins of the railway tracks still lie rusting by the road and are a tourist attraction now.
5 | The women dig shallow wells, 3-4 feet deep (any deeper and saline water seeps in) with their bare hands, in search of water for drinking and for use at home. The toilets and bathrooms here are makeshift structures of thatched walls.
6 | Without any proper sanitation facilities, women of the village are sometimes forced to bathe in the open, by the road. 'We have been abandoned; no one comes and asks about how we live here', they say.
7 | She got no aid from the government but continues to live here. A while ago, she and other villagers received a notice from the government to vacate their homes without any resettlement options; the government plans to ‘develop’ Dhanushkodi for tourism.
8 | A. Japiyammal (37) sells dry fish to make a living. Her husband is a fisherman. They too received a notice to vacate their home.
9 | M. Muniyaswami has lived on this barren stretch for 35 years. He got solar power around a year ago. Most of the villagers are still waiting for the solar lights; until then, they continue to use oil lamps, and buy kerosene from Rameswaram for ₹ 60/ litre in 2018
10 | The fish workers of Dhanushkodi live in constant fear of being caught if they wander close to the border area. Getting caught means losing their boats and fishing nets – that is, their entire livelihoods. This keeps happening.
11 | There is only one state-run primary school in Dhanushkodi, and most of the children have to travel 20 kms to Rameswaram if they want to study beyond Class 5. The cost of schooling and travelling is usually more than what most parents can bear.
12 | To earn a bit extra, women and children have put up small shops selling sell toys and shells. The ruins of St. Antony’s Church can be seen in the background.
13 | The state government is now trying to draw more tourists, and plans include building 2 new jetties. But the plans seem to exclude the local fish workers, all long-term residents of this coastal border stretch.
14 | This memorial was made from donations, as a remembrance of the villagers who lost their lives during the cyclone.
Half a century after a massive cyclone turned Dhanushkodi in #TamilNadu into a ghost town, 400 fish worker families still live there. Abandoned all these years, they are now seen as obstacles to tourism development. Full story | ruralindiaonline.org/en/articles/br…
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
The beef ban in Maharasthra in place since 2015 has had a direct impact on businesses that depend on cattle in Marathwada. The bovine is central to the rural economy and the impact has been debilitating. Watch | ruralindiaonline.org/en/articles/no…
In 2017, @parthpunter found that across Marathwada in 45°C heat, farmers who were already trapped in the agrarian crisis walked many kilometres from market to market, trying desperately to sell their cattle to raise some money – a task made nearly impossible by the beef ban.
The growing water shortage in Marathwada and rising fodder costs have made it more difficult to maintain livestock. Added to this is a lack of cow shelters. When the beef ban was imposed, also promised were shelters where farmers could donate their cattle...
Women are central to agriculture in India, and many of them – young and old, across class and caste lines – are present and resolute at the #FarmersProtests sites around Delhi. A photo thread this #MahilaKisanDiwas
Bimla Devi (in red shawls), 62, with her sister Savitri (60) reached the #SinghuBorder on Dec. 20 to tell the media that her brothers and sons protesting there are not terrorists. "I started crying seeing how the media was talking about my sons.” 2/n
Vishavjot Grewal’s family owns 30 acres of land in Pamal village of Ludhiana district, where they mainly cultivate wheat, paddy, and potatoes. “We want the reversal of these [farm] laws,” says the 23-year-old, who came with relatives to Singhu in a mini-van on December 22. 3/n
She paused, exasperated by the mid-day sun in Vizianagaram. But remained bent over. She knew she would resume work in moments – in that very posture.
Working in the same cashew fields were 2 other groups of women from her village. All were bent over. 5/n
‘Manual’ planting, sowing and weeding involve a great deal of time spent in painful postures. Agricultural tasks show a strong gender divide. Women are barred from ploughing. But they almost exclusively do the transplanting, weeding, harvesting, threshing and post-harvest work.
Most of these activities mean a lot of bending and squatting. In Nuapada in Odisha, the rain did not stop this woman from weeding. Besides, many of the tools and implements used were not designed for the comfort of women. 7/n
On #WomenFarmersDay, a photo story on the incredible hard yards that women put in each day in agriculture.
The landowner here in Anantapur is standing tall while the row of 9 women workers doubled over, are doing transplantation work on his field. 📷@PSainath_org | 1/n
He said he paid them Rs. 40 a day. The women, all landless workers from Rayagada, Odisha said it was Rs. 25. It is a typical case of visible work, invisible women. In India, even women from landed families have no rights to the land. 2/n
These 2 young girls in the field in Anantapur, AP, are hunting for pests. It’s about all the paid work there is in their village. They get Rs.10 for every kg of red hairy caterpillars from the landowners. This means they have to catch over a thousand to make that much 3/n
Once a sweeper with the BMC, Balappa Dhotre prefers to call himself a ‘karigar’– he has been chiselling stone grinders for decades, sitting on Mumbai's streets – though there are few takers now for his chutney crushers.
[Photo Thread]
At the corners of busy suburban roads, he sets up ‘shop'. His customers are mainly people who can not afford an electric grinder, or want to showcase the old-style mortar-pestle in their homes, or prefer the taste the stone gives to food. 2/n
Balappa brought along to the big city his father’s and grandfather’s auzaar (implements) to make the grinders. The only raw material he needed is the black stone. He procures it from the city’s construction sites. 3/n
“I call them Palenki, Iddi, Bori, Lingi...they are the names of our goddesses,” says 80-old-year Gantala Gori. In villages near the Amrabad Tiger Reserve in Telangana, the indigenous Poda Thurupu cattle are a farmers' precious resource. [Photo thread]
The cattle have spots, people here call them 'Poda Thurupu' – in Telugu, 'poda' means spot and 'thurupu' mean the East. The Poda Thurupu are of great help to small and marginal farmers who cannot afford tractors and other farm machinery. 2/n
Women don’t usually herd or trade cattle in the communities here, but look after them when the animals are kept in the sheds at home. At times, if the cattle are taken to nearby forests, the women accompany their husbands and stay there in temporary huts. 3/n