M A I N   N E W S

Suicide by farmers
Tragedy brings women together,
dilutes caste divide
Aditi Tandon
Tribune News Service

Lehragaga, April 4
The Sunday’s congregation here was overwhelming in many ways. Not only did it drive the focus back on the enormity of suicide by farmers in the state, it yielded insight into lives of women who have taken over the role of men in their families.

Most of all, the People’s Tribunal organised by NGOs showed how caste equations in rural Punjab were being subtly redefined, with some women from upper-caste Jat Sikh community cutting across caste divides to help low-caste women who endure a similar pain.

There were stories of all kinds — of women from Pullan village (Sangrur) where every household has lost a life; of women from Gurekalan (Mansa) where several families have lost over six lives in less than five years, and so on.

But the heartening aspect in these stories was the will of affected women to survive — till leftover lands, wash utensils in houses of friends, sell wares and do whatever it takes to hold the family together.

Among many brave faces that dotted Lehragaga on April 2, one stood out for the sparkle of its resolve. Not that it did not reflect trauma. It reflected deeper emotions than that — the most precious being one of compassion for other women who dared to make their woes public.

For her part, Jaspal Kaur forgot she belonged to Jat Sikh community the day her husband ended his life in July, 2003. It may not be her age to toil (she is 49 years old), but she looks after 0.25 acre — all that she is left with after her husband and his two brothers committed suicide.

She washes utensils in houses of people she used to socialise with. And she does it with pride.

“In our caste it is considered shameful to work. But it is less shameful than leaving one’s family in the lurch. I till my land hoping to clear the outstanding debt of Rs 3 lakh. I know I can never repay but I’ll die striving,” she says.

There are things Jaspal can never do — like send her children to the school and buy her parents-in-law medicines. But she hopes the public interest litigation on suicides will yield a positive result.

That is why she gave her testimony and mobilised others to do the same. Soon she found company in 15 women from Pullan who had landed at Lehragaga without a formal invitation.

“We came because we learnt of this event. All of us have lost our husbands and we can never remarry. Our children sleep hungry every day. Whatever land is left is mortgaged to commission agents,” Santosh spoke on the behalf of her friends who were in veils.

Low caste and forsaken, Santosh and her friends had barely hoped for help at the tribunal. But they were overwhelmed by the support they received from Jaspal Kaur who explained to them what the tribunal meant and what it could achieve.

“She belongs to ‘uchhi jati’ (high caste) but she understands our pain,” said Rajo, another woman from Pullan, little realising how a tragedy was diluting caste divides.

For Jaspal, it was more an effort in self-gratification than a gesture in generosity.

She said: “Caste consciousness is a dangerous thing. It weakens our men. They prefer to end their lives than face the consequences of being unable to repay debts.”

In most cases, farmers have ended their lives to escape the embarrassment caused by repeated notices sent by commission agents and banks.