Out in the fields of Punjab, women doing the farming is a common sight. And so it used to be in Makhu, a village in Ferozepur district. But not anymore.
At the heart of the changed scenario is the United Kingdom’s decision to make its visa rules more stringent and Canada’s move to nearly double the bank account threshold for students. Australia’s toughening of the English test for students has not helped matters.
The living conditions in these countries, favoured destinations for the people of Punjab, have also spurred reverse migration, which is taking a physical and mental toll on people.
Replaced at work
Manveen (name changed) was working under MGNREGS (Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Act, which gives at least 100 days of employment every financial year in rural areas) for a long time.
Despite the low pay, she called it a “safe haven”. She worked alongside other women and her two-year old was looked after at the workplace. Manveen’s husband worked in a restaurant in Canada and spoke to her once a month. This did not last long. Her husband returned and Manveen was “pulled out” of her haven.
“When my husband returned, my contractor decided to replace me with him. Now, I have to look after my child all day without any source of income. Both of us could have worked and the baby would have been taken care of. I don’t understand what the problem was,” she says.
When people returned in droves, the men took the place of women, not just in agriculture but also in other places, from shops to industrial enterprises.
Manveen’s friend, who also chose to speak anonymously, reiterates the point. She used to work for a paddy processing unit and earned Rs 200 a day, which, she says, was lower than what the men were paid. When her brother returned from Australia, having lost his job there, the paddy processing unit told Manveen’s friend to stay home and gave her job to her brother. The manager, she says, said the factory could not afford to keep both the siblings.
The manager of the processing unit refused to talk to Business Standard.
Tales of struggle
Charu, 32, runs a shop in Makhu, selling dairy products, most of it made at her own farm. She has two daughters and a mother-in-law to take care of. Things changed when her husband returned from Australia.
He had moved to Australia a few years ago to look for a job, having spent Rs 40 lakh on the move, including Rs 14 lakh paid to an agent. Things did not work out Down Under.
“He was frustrated after he returned. I thought he would get better with time, but no. He has started drinking. He is not even earning. He steals money for alcohol. My worst fear is that my sons will end up becoming like him,” says Charu, without naming her husband.
What’s more, the women find their status changed. When the men migrated to other countries, the women ran the home, farm, and finances. Now that the men are back, they have usurped the decision-making.
Simran’s husband was working in London as a sub-postmaster. He lost his job in 2020 and came back.
“In the absence of our husbands, women had a choice — to a certain extent. My husband was not actively involved. He was, although, involved with the financial decisions, because he owns the land. Despite that, we women had some access because we were the ones selling the produce in the markets. But after his return, my work has been restricted to seeding and cutting, and the access I had to finances is gone,” says Simran.
The living conditions in other countries have not been easy. But the struggle begins even before migrating, while arranging for finances. The amount can go up to Rs 40 lakh, which few in the villages can muster. Some borrow from private moneylenders at usurious rates of interest. If the men do migrate, the women are left to make the payments to the moneylenders. They soldier on, believing the migration will change their status, only to find that the men are back home with not much to show for their stints abroad.
“My husband returned from Canada, but had barely saved enough. We had to sell a part of our land to pay off the debt. Things are really tough,” says a woman who won’t be named.