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THE CARE-WOMEN'S FEATURE SERVICE FELLOWSHIPS, 2008(Personal Account)
 | 'After a day in the saltpans, I can never again think of white as a "cool" colour'
By Geeta Seshu
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As the train hurtles into the darkness towards Bhuj, the conversation naturally moves towards the 2001 earthquake. The devastating quake had flattened the town in Kutch in western Gujarat and the local newspapers routinely carry reports of tremors. Despite the constant threat of another earthquake, life goes on. The seemingly never-ending walls of concrete all along the railway track, the massive earthmovers and bulldozers, the constant flow of traffic and trucks carrying construction material only talk of an aggressive industrialisation. My fellow passengers are matter-of-fact. "Even if another quake occurs, these industries will claim compensation from the government. Till then, everyone makes money with the government's incentives," said one. Welcome to Kutch! I thought to myself.
Kutch, or Kachchh for the purists, is the second largest district in India, bordering Pakistan. With two ports on its western coast and the wetland deserts of the Greater and Little Rann of Kutch to its north and east, it is home to tribals and artisans with their world-famous styles of Kachchhi embroidery and the predominantly Jain business community. It also shelters the Khur, the endangered Asiatic Wild Ass, flamingos and other migratory birds.
It was the Kutch of the artisans, the fisher folk and the saltpan workers that I had set out to explore. These traditional means of livelihood are clearly under threat from the rapid industrialization the region is experiencing. Kachchis are known to be canny and businesslike, hardworking and full of entrepreneurial spirit. How are they meeting the challenges of change?
"Most of the people here don't seem to care," says a pessimistic Ashwinbhai Zinzuvadia, a Mundra-based journalist with the Gujarati newspaper 'Kutchmitra'. Ashwinbhai is passionate about the rich mangroves all along the coast and has documented the systematic cutting down of the mangrove forest over the last ten years. The multi-crore SEZ by the Adani group is located in Mundra, one of Kutch's two ports, and is the single most important reason for the change in the area. "Land prices have shot up and people can't believe their luck," he says. "The only mantra that is being chanted here is that of 'development' and people are really not bothered about the loss of mangroves or the commons," he rues.
The mangroves, he points out, are at least 5,000 years old, but the local forest department has no census of the number of trees or even the area the mangroves occupy. All Ashwinbhai has for testimony is the 'before' and 'after' photographs of the mangroves and of bulldozers clearing the forests.
The heat and blinding whiteness of the saltpan is like being on another planet. But I really didn't know what 'hot' was till I tripped and my foot sank into the powdery salt. Why are all the literary depictions of hell hot and red? After a day in the saltpans, I can never again think of white as a 'cool' colour.
Water is at a huge premium in Kutch, but buttermilk is not. The popular thirst quencher is rivaled only by tea, the hot energizer that helps one stay awake in the soporific over 40°C summer heat. The best buttermilk was available in a roadside dhaba we stopped to have lunch in at Adesar. The rotis were fluffy and we couldn't have enough of the chhaas, to the exasperation of the youth waiting on our table!
My brief was to chronicle the struggles of women working in the fishing communities and in the saltpans. I wanted to examine their strategies for survival and the means by which they were beginning to reach out to the larger world. But where were the women? It was, first and foremost, the men who came forward with their problems and issues. "Of course, you can meet the women, but they will be busy with their work," I was told. I persisted. Despite the language barrier, with their dialect and my Hindi, I got not just the warmth and colour of the women of Kutch but also emphatic and evocative quotes from them for my story.
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