A fond farewell to Yamunanagar

My spirit drew itself up as I reached Yamunanagar this Thursday. Despite the four hour wait on the railway tracks just minutes away from the city, my return was sweet because I was coming home. The monsoon rains knit a grey veil around the city that lowered around me as I disembarked, but I found help at every stage of my journey.

First two young men emerged out of the unlit streets outside Lucknow's rail station to negotiate a reasonable fare for my luggage handler (Indian suits are heavy!), then another man carried my bag when I needed to change rail cars, and a third man stopped me as I lugged my bags up a flight of stairs at the Yamunanagar station and graciously took my bags across the gap and even negotiated the final rickshaw ride for me. So despite the thirteen hour rail ride my body wasn't totally pummeled by the trip. What was really most striking was my willingness to step back from rushing forward with my work in order to spend a few final days with my Indian family, Gudu, Goru, and Mama-ji. I tell myself I'm returning because I promised I would only stay away a week, and because it gives me time to double-check my logic behind my last research site, to make up for lost sleep, to practice Hindi, and to ground myself before entering a totally new locale. Honestly, though this pause is completely selfish. Finding a sense of home, a family, and the peace that comes with all of that, is a precious gift that I am wont to renounce.

The picture above is the lovely Sodhi family's rooftop, where Gudu and I have spent many an evening appreciating the cool night breezes and the space to talk freely. Below is a view of their backyard, with the sunset following today's solar eclipse...















Although I don't yet have a picture of Gudu, Goru, and Mama-ji, let me show you a little bit of local drama: my first, up-close-and-personal view of a local dispute from (near-start) to finish. Below is a photo of the mobile shop that is adjacent to the Sodhi's home. One evening about a week and a half ago, Gudu and I had escaped the ever-present heat and notable lack of electricity to perch on the rooftop.




















From here, you can see the men generally loafing about the shop. Just down the street is a concentration of private money lenders. Sometimes crowds gather when these unscrupulous lenders cause problems for people who come to them unable to repay their debts. This was exactly what happened before our eyes. One skinny, middle-aged man ran down the street towards the mobile shop, followed closely by a handful of hefty-looking men who looked prepared to teach the probable-debtor an unforgettable lesson. Soon after that another crowd of men came with bats and muscles bared. By now a few cars and vans had congregated around the mobile phone shop, where an ever-growing throng closed around the frightened man, with many fierce shouts ringing out into the night.

I asked if we should call the police, but learned this was an utterly fruitless act. In fact, the police did drive by just before the crowd gathered, with a new set of red-and-blue lights flashing. Unfortunately, their cursory attempt to flush out local deviants was probably of secondary importance to the cops, whose primary interest seems to lie in the novelty of scenic drives through the city and the chance to stare at the women on the streets. Their priorities are evidenced by the fact that the one predictable response of a call to the police is Silence.

So who finally dispersed the heady crowd? Who else but the local elders, including a man who Gudu vividly described: "He has a gimp leg, but his long fingers are in every pot." We watched the man with a gimp and several other rotund characters make there way to the shop, after which the crowd dispersed sedately. Go figure! Of course this had nothing to do with caste panchayats. Yes, I have laid that theory to rest.

In case you're worried, my spirits are not entirely broken. Below is me ready to forge into the fields in search of fallow land, disputes, and adventure (in a new suit!).




















If all goes well, Monday I should arrive in Pratapgarh, UP via Lucknow, where the 2001 Census tells me there is high variation in village-level amounts of fallow land, and locals confirm that fallow land is not a result of infertile soil.

There are three reasons for good cheer: (1) my old translator Priyanka Singh will return to the field with me; (2) the wise professionals at AMS survey company will help me access local officials, elders, disputants, and so on, in any village I request in Pratapgarh; and (3) my long-awaited meeting with a member of the National Council for Applied Economic Research, Dr. Hari Nagarajan, went extremely well. I should now get access to the most recent round of the Rural Economic and Demographic Survey (telling me all about land disputes and cultivation in 16 Indian states) and have an invitation to return to Delhi and work with NCAER as a visiting scholar this winter!

So despite my sad farewell to the Sodhi family, I have the pleasure of knowing I will return shortly, and hopefully with some good work behind me.