Neighbours have stopped talking to me fearing I might ask for food, says poverty-striken Marathwada farmer

On Saturday, Maharashtra villages celebrated Pola – the bull-worshipping festival – with fervour and delicious Puran Poli. Balikabai Yedale (69), a Marathwada farmer, celebrated the fact that she got something to eat after two days, courtesy a generous neighbour.

"I had not eaten for two days. My neighbour took pity on my deteriorating health and invited me for dinner on the occasion of Pola," she said. But the invitation was an exception, as most neighbours have stopped talking to her, assuming she would ask for food or help. "I understand. They themselves don't have much," she said.

Pola, one of the biggest festivals for farmers in Maharashtra, is celebrated on the onset of the harvest season. For Balikabai, whose 76-year-old husband died of cancer three months ago, festivals have lost all meaning.

"I had no money for medicines. Life without my malak ((husband) is terrible. I wish no one goes through this situation. After his demise, I have to take care of his 90-year-old brother, who has lost his eye sight. I even have to help him answer nature's call," she said.

Balikabai owns three acres of arid land in Khandgri in Latur, a barren hilly hamlet nearly 530 km from Mumbai. She had to sell one acre of land for Rs 5,000 for her husband's medication. For the last three years, there has been no income from the farm.

"Due to the continuous failure of rain, our farm has developed huge cracks. The well has dried up. We have to walk several kilometres to get some drinking water. My one-room house is crumbling and I have no money to repair it. There is no door in the house and insects, snakes, dogs, and other animals enter easily. To sleep at night is to risk death. I constantly fear the entire house will collapse on me," said Balikabai.

She has a 32-year-old son, Ram, who passed Class XII and now works as sweeper in a private school in a nearby village. "He receives Rs 2,000 per month as salary, but does not give me a single penny. He has two daughters. Sometimes I feel I should not have had a son. He is of no use," she lamented.

Earlier, Balikabai worked as a cook in canteen of a residential school. "I also used to get Rs 2,000 as monthly salary. It was enough to live. Unfortunately, that school shut down six months ago. Now sometimes I work as a daily wage labourer and get Rs 100 per day. The drought has hit even the big farmers, and I see their wives coming to work with us in the farms. I feel bad about them. Such is destiny," she said.

"I have never gone to a bank. A few months ago, people came to our village with Jan Dhan Yojana but I did not have Rs 100 to open an account. And what is the use of opening an account? Who is going to put money in it?" she asked, with tears rolling down her face.

She said drought has not only affected people's finances but their health as well. "People are falling sick and there is no money for treatment. If this situation continues for some more time, most people would die of ailments instead of suicides," she said.

She also slammed the government for empty promises. "We hear the government wants to do this and that, but there is nothing on the ground level. Last year, we were supposed to receive Rs 4,500 as compensation, as the crops failed due to hailstorm and unseasonal rains. Government officials took my brother-in-law's thumb print but we never saw any money. Later, they said they have given the money to us and showed that thumb print as proof," she alleged.

She said her sister has sent some foodgrain for her, which might last another 15 days. "Without food and without work, our minds keep returning to the thought of killing ourselves. To get rid of this negative thought, the villagers chant God's name, and ask somebody to read religious scriptures to us at night," Balikabai said.