The Hunger Pandemic: Ash-filled Stoves and Empty Stomachs in Rural Uttar Pradesh

Originally published as part of Khabar Lahariya’s long-form series “Sound Fury & 4G

Around the world, social media feeds have become feasts for the eyes and spurs to the appetite, flooded with photos posted by people working from home and cooking for themselves. While professional and amateur chefs serve up lockdown recipes, writers churn out think pieces about quarantine cooking. In India too, the privileged urban classes are venturing boldly forth into unknown corners of their pantry cupboards, sighing about meat shortages and liquor store closures, while keeping a nervous ear cocked for the call of the sabziwalla.

Cognitive dissonance is baked into our lives. As the country juddered into lockdown on March 24 like a train with bad brakes and loose couplings, we alternated between comforting images of home-cooked meals on Instagram and news photographs of stark privation, as thousands of migrant labourers walked hundreds of kilometres back to their villages. The impact of the sudden lockdown was as harsh for the families they were going back to, and could get worse in the months to come.

Khabar Lahariya reporters in some of Uttar Pradesh’s poorest districts began receiving calls from individuals and communities that had gone without proper food for days. In the weeks that followed, as part of our series, COVID-19, The Last Mile, KL visited markets where essential food was in short supply or available at inflated prices; and neglected villages where even at the best of times, the staple meal is not much more than rice or roti, daal and sabzi.

As images of village children eating cattle fodder in Varanasi district went viral, KL’s reporters found the situation not much better in various parts of the state – even weeks into the lockdown, and after promises by the Prime Minister and Finance Minister, and Chief MInister Yogi Adityanath to release extra, free rations and financial fillups help to people covered under various government schemes.

Slow, uneven, and leaky state mechanisms, compounded by the suddenness of the lockdown, stretched resources across the country like a cold rubber band, in danger of snapping. They will be stretched further as the original lockdown window comes to a close and is extended, with more stringent measures in some hotspots. Some experts predict India’s new COVID-19 cases will only peak in late June, implying greater strains on all systems, especially as temperatures rise with the approach of north India’s most difficult seasons. For the most vulnerable people in UP – among the bottom of so-called “aspirant” states when it comes to eradicating hunger – hand-to-mouth subsistence may well teeter into severe malnutrition or starvation.

NO WORK, NO FOOD

Over the first three weeks of the lockdown, KL reporters met people struggling to feed themselves and their children. Disproportionately, these people were from Adivasi or Dalit-dominated villages where people earn either daily wages for unskilled work through state programmes like MNGREGS or UP’s labour department, or income through traditional skills.

On March 29, day five of the lockdown, KL’s Kavita Bundelkhandi reported from Rajaram Ka Purwa, a hamlet in the Mahua block of Banda district. Though located on the political campaign trail, the collection of shacks is nowhere on the development map, with residents even taking out a demonstration last year for better access to schools for their children. Some members of the landless families who live here work as labourers, others make brooms or punch holes in rocks for use as grinding stones. Some beg for a living. When the lockdown was announced some people tried to go to Mahua village to beg or buy food, but police chased them off, they said.

Plain rotis made from their reserves of atta, sometimes with some chutney, mirch or salt, saw the villagers through the first few days. Peeping inside people’s homes, Kavita found empty canisters and cold ashes in the cookstoves. “We finished what food we had at home yesterday,” said Sonam, a young woman surrounded by small kids watching as she methodically rubbed grain out of ears of ripe wheat. “I went and broke wheat from someone’s field.” A few others had collected some green gram, or had a bit of salt left.

A few days later, on April 1, KL went to Khodan, a village in the Mehrauni block of Lalitpur district. Most of the roughly 100 Adivasi families have one or more members working as day-labourers. “Normally we earn Rs. 200 to Rs. 250 a day,” a woman named Benibai told us. “But the police won’t let us leave the house to work now. We’re just sitting here, starving.” She hadn’t cooked a meal for three days, and some people said they hadn’t lit their stoves since the lockdown began. “We tell the kids to control their hunger – that food will come soon,” said Benibai. When KL called the local pradhan, he told us his hands were tied until he received word from the government about releasing supplies.

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A SUPPLY CHAIN RATTLED

On March 27, we met Laxmi in Vinobanagar, Nai Basti, in Chitrakoot district. Her husband was out of town for work, and couldn’t come back once the trains shut down. A kadai of boiled rice wobbled on one side of her floor. She and her child had been eating it plain for the past three days, and now, with the road to the paddy fields blocked, she couldn’t even replenish her stock. Laxmi went to buy some vegetables, but found potatoes being sold at nearly Rs. 30 a kilo (up from Rs.18), and green vegetables even more expensive. She came back empty-handed.

India’s famous food security conundrum is that people routinely go hungry while the country boasts an outsize supply of foodstocks. Now, with less than half of our wholesale markets operational, the most dire predictions foresee an impending food distribution crisis with drastic long-term effects.

In the short term, even those people who could access markets and had some savings to spare were being daunted by higher-than-usual prices for essential goods. On April 2, at Kumhedi gaon in Lalitpur, a shopkeeper told us it had become very difficult to get vegetables and other supplies: “We have to get a pass for ourselves, for our vehicles. The base prices haven’t increased but it has become very difficult.”

A few people claimed items were being sold above the MRP, and that they had paid 20 to 25 percent more for goods like sugar. “We’re not getting any vegetables,” said Devvati, a woman in the market. “Sugar is double the price. If I want to drink tea, I have to drink it without milk. If there’s milk it’s diluted with water.”

It was the same story in Naraini, in Banda district, a few days later. On April 7, ample time for supply chain issues to have been resolved, shopkeepers said that they were having a hard time keeping prices down. “Supplies aren’t coming through so the prices are going up a bit,” said Bhai Lal. “Shops aren’t able to stay open. People are buying just a little bit at a time.”

A shopkeeper in Vinobanagar told us he had given out some supplies on credit, but couldn’t afford to continue. “The Prime Minister has said he’s sending 70kg of ration to everyone,” he said, “but it needs to get here, doesn’t it?”

HOUSE OF CARDS

In Rajaram Ka Purwa, a woman named Geeta vented her frustration. “I have a voter card, an ID card, and an Aadhaar card,” she fumed through the dupatta wrapped lightly around her mouth. “But I don’t have a ration card, so I can’t get anything.”

Even as the Food Corporation of India began moving grain across the country in spite of impeded transport, last mile delivery to those who actually need it has been fraught with issues, related either to limited supplies at PDS points or documentation and identity proof. Before the lockdown, the CM announced a month of free rations for job card holders (registered with MNREGA, for example) who also held Antyodya Anna Yojna (below poverty line) ration cards.

Experts pushed for a more liberal policy regarding grain disbursement as part of much-needed long-term ration reforms. A second phase of ration distribution from April 15 was announced for all ration card holders, and a promise to streamline the process of adding people to eligible lists. But implementation has been haphazard and we’ve found both distributors and consumers confused about requirements.

On the ground, we found many people who had spent the first few weeks of the lockdown looking for basic supplies, or paying the subsidised rates instead of getting them for free. In most places, the distribution of free rations started on April 1. On April 3, ten days into the lockdown, we reported on ration distribution at various PDS outlets in Banda and Mahoba districts. But in both places people were getting the usual 5kg of rations per unit, rather than the double amount promised, most likely due to a shortage of supplies.

At Barethi Kalan in Tindwari, Banda, there were chalk circles on the ground in front of the ration shop, and people were being urged to maintain distance. Surendra Singh, the kotedar, told us he had distributed rations to about 50 people total, and 15 people already that day. “It is completely free for Antyodya and Patra Grehasti [eligible household] ration card holders,” he said. For those with only a job card, it is a few rupees per kilo of aata or rice. This will be on for three months, and beyond that I don’t know. We’re distributing whatever we’ve received.”

At Ladpur in Mahoba, the kotedar’s uncle told us that around 100 people had gotten free rations, as he punched card numbers into an ePoS machine with his gloved hands. The machines are part of the government’s ongoing and imperfect efforts to digitise ration distribution and integrate it with biometric Aadhaar data. While meant to make the system more efficient and crack down on “ghost” cards used to siphon off resources, the upgrades have been plagued by issues like failure to recognise thumbprints, server and internet problems, and difficulties in procuring Aadhaar number.

Some of these problems were evident at Jana Bazaar in Ayodhya district on April 8, over two weeks into the lockdown. People had gathered from nearby hamlets to avail of sacks of wheat and rice, and the lekhpal (accountant) was checking names against a list of MNREGA and Antyodya card holders. Several with job cards but no ration cards were leaving disappointed, however. Kashiram, a labourer with a job card had been turned away twice, since he had no ration card. Guddu Kumar had the same issue, but paid Rs. 105 and took some grain. He was worried about the cost – “there’s no work since the lockdown.”

We spoke to some women in the village whose husbands were away, jobless and stuck in Delhi and Bombay. One woman bought rations on the basis of her job card, but because not all of her children had been added to her household, she couldn’t get the quota she actually needed to feed everyone. Another was told that her ration card had been cut from the list and couldn’t afford to buy what she needed on the basis of her job card. The lekhpal, Sushil Kumar Sharma, was harried: “We are making a report of names that are not on the list today,” he told us. “They will be added at the district level as soon as possible.”

The experience of several women at the PDS point at Naraini, Banda on April 9, shed more light on why some people were still being turned away. The kotedar, Sudin Yadav, explained that the ePoS machine would not validate an MNREGS account if a worker had not punched in attendance for a long time. (Labourers often turn to the relatively low MNREGA wages only as a last resort when there’s no higher-paying work to be found.)

Kuresha, Yasmin and Champa were standing in line, having exhausted their options and their food reserves. They had set off from Hadaha village, over eight kilometres away, at 6am, in order to reach the PDS by 9am. They’d heard they would get free grain and Rs. 500, perhaps referring to the announced installments in women’s Pradhan Mantri Jan-Dhan Yojna accounts.

Yasmin said she had a ration card, but hadn’t got her quota for the past two months. Some of her family members hadn’t yet been able to get Aadhaar numbers. “They are saying your name has been removed,” she said. “We’ve tried to get Aadhaar, but they don’t get made,” she said.” Meanwhile, Champa was told she would not get the ration because she was not on the “active” MNREGA rolls.

The kotedar assured us that these issues were being resolved by district panchayats. “We’ve sent those people’s names to be added,” he told us, referring to the government’s announcement that all job card holders would be included. “They will get ration cards very quickly.” No one could say how these people would tide over until then.

REPORTING RELIEF

Some local pradhans and volunteer groups stepped up to fill in the gaps. When no rations or bank account top-ups reached Gaurhari village in Mahoba by the sixth day of lockdown, Pradhan Raju Singh Rajput took matters into his own hands. “According to the last census we have around 5,500 people in the area,” Raju told us. “And 40 percent of them are away for work. We are taking care of people who don’t have family here, or aren’t getting remittances any more.”

His team distributed 10kg of atta, 3kg of rice, oil, daal, salt and masala to several families who needed them most urgently. Rahisa, one of the women who received a ration, was relieved. “We ate roti and chutney for two days,” she said.

“We’re also trying to figure out how to get vegetables to people through the gram panchayat,” Raju told us, estimating that it would take a few more days for the government to send rations to the kotedar.

youth organisation pro-actively started giving out food in the Narayanpur mohalla of Chattarpur, on March 23, to rickshaw pullers and their families. A group of young siblings swung into action in Banda, distributing not only food but also soap and other basics. In Maharja village in Chitrakoot, the followers of a local guru distributed food from the back of a truck, asking people to come up one at a time and dropping tomatoes, rice and other essentials into their baskets. They had been to around 42 locations to distribute food in the week since the lockdown began. “We distributed around a hundred quintals in four days in places like Maharja, Kunya, Bhoj,” said volunteeer Aakash Dwivedi. “Around 70- 80 people got food.” One woman, Rekha, told us it was a lifesaver, especially since schools were closed and kids couldn’t get their mid-day meal there. “This should last us around a week,” she said. Both groups planned to continue their rounds as long as the lockdown lasted.

On day 12 of the lockdown, we met members of another religious group, the Rukmini Seva Sansthan, distributing cooked food in several locations. Faraz Khan, district president of the Samajwadi Party was also distributing packets of atta, potato, daal, tomato and pumpkin along with other supporters. “The order is that no one should sleep hungry,” he said. “This is the fourth day of our programme and we have given out around 60 – 80 packets.” The owner of Chitrakoot Dham’s Shankar Dhaba was sending out packed 1,000 meals daily, to the tune of Rs. 20,000 or more, with the help of some donations.

At times our reporting also played a role in getting supplies to those who needed them most. As Kavita told IPI Media, “we found it impossible to maintain our reporter identities separate from our humanitarian relief worker ones.” Two days after we reported from Khodan, the villagers received rations from the local kotedar. After eight days of scrounging for food, each family got 20kg of wheat and 15kg of rice. In Vinobanagar, after we spoke to the son of the local pradhan, the police delivered some rations to Laxmi. Prakash told us he and a few volunteers were making a list of people who needed food most desperately “on tatkal”.

BY BREAD ALONE

There are already reports of ration distribution being stopped due to fears of overcrowding, to be replaced by home-delivery. But even if this service and ration shops function at peak efficiency, food security remains an urgent issue. In the Adivasi village of Jhagraha in Panna district, across the border in Madhya Pradesh, people received increased rations of rice and wheat by March 29. But the nearest market, ten kilometers away, was closed, and there was nothing else, not even basic vegetables like tomato and potato. As young Dinesh Kumar Ahirvar said, “We’re getting by eating roti and salt.” Without financial help and access to a greater variety of food, people are looking at surviving on cereals for months on end. This is particularly concerning given that COVID-19 is more dangerous for people with compromised immunity.

Despite some local relief efforts, even for many of the people living in the region, the fragile situation of their most vulnerable neighbours is dwarfed by fears of what will happen if COVID-19 spreads. On April 5, a week-and-a-half into the lockdown, on the day designated for mass lamp-lighting in solidarity against the disease, KL stepped out to ask people on the street what they thought of the directive. Our question was simple: What’s more important? To light diyas or ensure people have what they need to light their chulhas (cookstoves).

Most people were in favour of the former. “Lamps are more essential than benefits,” said Kusum, a woman in Banda district. “It’s necessary. If there are no people left, who will be there to light a stove? If people aren’t able to work and earn today, they will find work tomorrow.” Geeta, a woman in Varanasi district, gave us a more pragmatic version of the same answer, getting to the heart of the problem: “Lighting a lamp is important. Of course, benefits are also important, but if there’s no way to get them to people, what can anyone do about it?”

DONATION INFORMATION

If you’d like to donate to hunger relief efforts for labourers and their families across India, tweet to Khabar Lahariya.

For UP specifically, here’s a list of vetted individual, volunteer group, and NGO efforts by name or location:

Aligarh: 8267867864
Allahabad/Prayagraj: 9452248257 / 8563825856 / 786055816
Arundhati Dhuru: 9919664444
Azamgarh: 8090696449
Banda, Madad-E-Insaniyat: 7800835325 / 8354947439
Bansi: 9628910231/8090171649
Budhana – Jansath: 7838934288
Domariyaganj: 9455944411
Faizabad: 7985292160 / 8707363710 / 6390259437 / 7905299172
Ghaziabad: 9818707143 / 9315251602 / 7011599028
Itwa: 9833539524
Jansahas: 9589107590
Khalid Chaudhary: 9455094764
Khatauli: 7838934288
Lucknow: 9151118888
Mau: 8112861169
Meerapur :9634107649
Muzaffar Nagar: 9012134700 / 8279661960 / 7838934288
Rudauli: 9795795786
Shamli: 9897763551
Vigyan Foundation: 9415011703

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