Marora: A village in Haryana with a little-known Donald Trump connection

Though they may not know who Donald Trump is or why their village is named after him, the US president is a godsend for the residents of Haryana's Marora. Manavi Kapur finds out why

“Good morning, ma’am,” a young woman says with unusual confidence. Her bold voice and the fact that she can speak in English are a welcome anomaly in Mewat, one of Haryana’s most backward districts when it comes to literacy, especially female literacy. But 19-year-old Arti Devi’s verbal skills are only a part of what makes the tiny village of Marora stand out. Once a non-descript village in one of the several rural clusters along the Sohna Road, Marora is now known as the “Trump Village”, named, curiously enough, after US President Donald Trump.

Unlike the swanky Trump Tower buildings in New York or the upscale real estate project in Mumbai, the standout features of “Trump Village” are that it now has a small skilling centre and a toilet in every home. “We didn’t know who he was about eight months ago. But then our village was renamed and our lives changed, and Trump suddenly became an important figure for us,” says Arti. That he is the president of the United States is widely known, but what he has to do with this otherwise unremarkable village is a mystery to most residents.

The silaai kendra that Sulabh International established in Marora Photo: Sanjay K Sharma

The answer lies in an unassuming blue board that spells out “Sulabh Kendra” in Hindi. When Prime Minister Narendra Modi visited Washington to meet Trump in June 2017, Bindeshwar Pathak, Sulabh International’s founder, announced his desire to adopt Marora. With no particular connection to the village, Pathak’s choice of Marora was based solely on Mewat’s socio-economic backwardness. He chose to rechristen it “Trump Village” in honour of Indo-American bilateral ties.

With that simple renaming, Marora, a few universes away from geopolitical debates and trade negotiations, got a new lease of life. Though the state authorities have removed all signage and termed the rechristening unauthorised, the moniker has outlived a physical board. “He must be the president in his own country, but we know that he is making our lives better one way or another,” says Jamshida, one of the villagers.

‘It’s trump’s own village. If he doesn’t come here, where else will he go’, Sant Lal, Resident of Marora

While Sulabh International’s focus has been the silaai kendra (a centre to learn sewing), providing solar lights and the 95 toilets it installed in all homes in Marora, Pathak’s vision to rename the village has consolidated the work of various NGOs working in the Mewat region. Village residents, otherwise subjects of test projects, are now more proactive in working for change. The silaai kendra doubles up as a meeting place for women to discuss what ails their households, to share notes from what they learnt during afternoon school and, lately, to meet mediapersons.

“Earlier, a lot of the women, especially from Muslim homes, would run away when they saw strangers wanting to interview them. Some even expressed concern that the angrez would loot their village, like they did during British India,” explains Arti. Today, Saroj, who oversees the operations of the silaai kendra, is quick to beckon to girls and women across ages who walk in with as much curiosity as a sense of purpose.

‘once our village was renamed, trump suddenly became important’, Arti Devi, Resident of Marora

Mehboobi, a 45-year-old grandmother, has learnt to spell her name as well as her husband’s. “I’m soon going to learn how to sign my own name when I go to the bank or when we vote,” she says. Mewat has a large population of Meo Muslims, and Hindu households are something of a minority here. Despite this, the Muslim population is largely landless and exploited by upper-caste Hindus. “This is the reason my parents want me to study, but only at home,” explains Jamshida. The village school offers classes only up till Class V and children need to be sent to the next village to attend secondary or senior school. “There was supposed to be an Industrial Training Institute here. Bohot ladkiyaan uske khulne ka intezaar karte karte sasuraal pohonch gayi (A lot of the young women were married off while waiting for the campus to open),” says Arti.

A soft-spoken firebrand, Arti, one of the first in her village to study beyond Class VIII, is slowly leading the change in “Trump Village”. She is a model product of the impact an NGO can have on lives. After participating in various projects — from education to skill building — she is now associated with Humana People to People India, which works for the development of under-privileged and marginalised people, as a teacher. Armed with a laptop and two tiny speakers, she imparts lessons on subjects that vary from sanitation and cleanliness to why not to sign documents without reading them properly. “If they have a skill centre, they should also ensure that it is of some use. We should be able to support our parents with this skill and be independent,” she says. Others pipe in that lack of employment often makes the male members of the household think that this skilling exercise is pointless and would rather that their women stay indoors.

Solar lights have significantly improved the lives of the village’s residents Photo: Sanjay K Sharma

“I don’t have a problem if the women study, but it shouldn’t be one of those ‘Ram Rahim’ cases. If I allow my sister to go out and work, then it is the NGO’s responsibility to also take care of her,” says Ravi, Arti’s brother. His wife, Babita, has learnt how to use the sewing machine. She sits with women from the neighbourhood to complete her school homework. With toddlers in tow, these women chatter on about a “meeting” in Delhi, which they’re all excited to attend. Saroj explains that Pathak has invited the women to be a part of an event and that, about a year ago, getting this kind of enthusiasm from the women would have been unthinkable. “They now go out, meet new people and come back with stories to tell their husbands. It’s a new world,” says Saroj, beaming like a proud mother.

Every home now has a toilet Photo: Sanjay K Sharma

Most women, though, are confused about whether it is Trump who is bringing progress to their village or Pathak’s organisation. When Saroj hears some women say that they’re glad Trump chose this village as his own, she is swift to correct them. “Who installed those toilets?” she starts a pop quiz. “Sulabh sir,” comes the answer in unison. There is a hunger for knowledge, but there’s an even greater desire for employment. “Bas ab kaam mil jaaye (we just need employment now)” is repeated almost like a pet phrase.

Like Ravi, there are other men in “Trump Village” who hide their displeasure at being left behind in a shroud of concern for their women’s safety. Sant Lal, a 21-year-old labourer, curiously peeks at the women talking to journalists. “Everything is great. Why won’t I be happy for them? But they should also think of us boys who roam around without employment,” he says. He hopes Trump will take notice and bring him personal prosperity. “Already in other villages, our name has some meaning. I often tell my friends, ‘Bach ke rehna, humaari pakad Amreeka tak hai (beware, we have friends in the US)’,” he says.

He perks up when asked if he thinks Trump will visit Marora. “It’s his own village. If he doesn’t come here, where else will he go?” laughs Sant Lal. Mehboobi says she will organise garlands and they will all prepare songs for his welcome. “Irrespective of whether we’re Hindu or Muslim, we’ll all give him a grand reception,” she says innocently, unaware of Trump’s own politics or the fact that he sees India as a “Hindu nation”.

Away from such realities, somewhere between “Sulabh sir” and “Trump sir”, Marora has found its place on India’s and, hopefully, the global map.