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"Sanand farmers minting money" scream the headlines in several newspapers. GIDC is offering farmers living around the Nano plant and in several other places in Gujarat, many times the money that they could have sold their land for a couple of years ago. In fact, it is helping some of the farmers become crorepatis. And every one is happy and smiling all the way to the bank. Or so the newspapers would have us believe.

I decided to set off to interview as many of the farmers and families I could meet in the area. I wanted to find out if they were actually thrilled with their new-found wealth. Here are transcripts from the video I shot. Lakhabhai from Motipura says he does not know where to go. "Where will I find land? Where can I make a life? We sold the land because everyone was selling theirs. What was the point of being the only one to oppose?"

Lakhabhai was told that whether or not they agreed, the land would be acquired. "I have two children. Now they will obviously need to find work as labourers. They didn't study, and don't know anything but farming. We have six heads of cattle and nowhere to graze them, so they will probably starve. Nobody will buy them as we all have the same issue."

On being asked if he would like his land back, Lakhabhai said a vehement 'yes'. Was he not happy with the huge sum of money, we asked. "We haven't seen any money yet. We have just signed papers. I am worried about whether the money will actually even come."

Kanabhai of the same village cites governmental pressure. "We have to do what the government wants", he says. "But we would rather keep our lands". Naranbhai has 40 vighas of land between him and his four brothers. He says he sold the land because he was terrified that if he did not agree, the government would acquire it for free. "So I thought it better to get the money promised. But I will end up spending all the money. What will my children and theirs, live off? At least with land, you have enough to eat."

Ramiben has other worries. However old and slow she got, she could always work on her land, and not be at the total mercy of her children. Now, with the land gone, she is dependent. Will the new companies and factories employ old women? She sits fretting all day. "I can't even eat. I don't like the taste of food any more. I sit idle all day, with nothing to do. I am getting weak and old. I don't know if these factories will provide me with livelihood."

Ramiben is sure they will see just a part of the promised money. "There are so many people in-between, they will each take their cuts. But if the agevan (leader) of the village tells us we must sign, what choice do we have?"

Manjuben is cynical and does not trust the system. "I have been running from pillar to post for my widow's pension and still don't have it. And that is a paltry sum. Who will ever see this (huge sum of) money?"

Manjuben says her child was 13 days old when she was widowed. Her children have grown up in dire poverty, with their mother begging for them, and doing odd jobs on others' farms. "I don't even have the bus fare to go to the mamlatdar's, and my brothers gave me nothing. With all the farms gone, how will we earn? I don't have land. I don't have anything to sell. How will I survive? Where will I go?" One physically challenged young man mourned, "If there is money but no land, what will we buy and what will we eat?"

In some neighbouring villages, the farmers are still adamant that they will not be coerced into selling. With my colleague Bharatsinh Jhala, they have made an appeal to the CMO and to the Revenue Department, where they were greeted courteously by Mr Gamit and Mr Makad, who have promised to pass the necessary files 'up'. But will those 'up' there, listen and relent? Only time will tell.