In Banswara and the tribal belt around it, one scene has repeated itself for years. The kharif harvest is cut, and a few days later the men of the house tie up their bundles and set out for Gujarat. Sometimes the whole family goes; sometimes the children stay with their grandparents. Small landholdings, rain-fed farming and a scarcity of work nearby push livelihood far from the threshold of home.
Into this reality, the organisation Vaagdhara brought women's "Saksham Samuhs" to village after village. These groups are not grand buildings or heavy schemes; they rest on something simple: sitting together once a month, listening to one another's troubles and finding a way forward with the resources already lying in one's own courtyard. The stories below come from different villages, yet a common thread runs through them all: when confidence meets the right information, the same land and the same hands begin to shape a new future.
Varet's Kamla Devi: From Goats to a Tempo
About eighty kilometres from Banswara, in the village of Varet, lives the family of Kamla Devi Pargi: her husband Vagji, a daughter and a son, a small household of four. Farming and a little goat rearing never quite filled their stomachs, so the entire family migrated for work.
In 2020, Kamla Devi joined her village's Saksham Samuh. At first she simply listened. The facilitator, Lalita Makwana, led a discussion on a different subject each month: farming, nutrition gardens, goat rearing, poultry. Of these, goat rearing felt closest to Kamla Devi's own circumstances. She told her husband it was time to take it seriously; he agreed, and the family resolved to change course.
Through the HIPIR project she received one female and one male goat. With their own two, the herd stood at four, and the following year it grew by two does and two bucks. This time Kamla Devi left nothing to chance: she fed the animals on schedule, had them vaccinated and kept the shed spotless. These small habits made a big difference.
The outcome surprised even her. Five bucks sold for nearly one lakh rupees, and she now keeps twenty goats. The money bought the family a tempo, a small passenger vehicle that earns up to twelve hundred rupees a day. That income now goes toward the children's schooling. Her husband still travels to Gujarat, but alone; the whole family no longer has to migrate.
Saliya's Sita Devi: A Small Bed, a Big Lesson
The story of Sita Devi of Saliya village teaches in another way. She has been a regular member of the Saksham Samuh for five years. She is forty and her husband Babulal forty-five; their sons Alkesh and Surajit study in classes eight and six. Until a few years ago, this family too worked as labourers in Gujarat.
After joining the group, Sita Devi learnt that nutrition is tied not only to the plate but to a corner of the field. She turned the vacant land around her house into a nutrition garden, growing seasonal vegetables according to the family's needs. Fresh greens now reach the kitchen daily and spending on market vegetables has fallen sharply. Whatever remains she sells, earning about two hundred rupees a day, which covers daily expenses and the children's school needs.
What sets Sita Devi apart is that she has not kept her learning to herself. She tells other women that a big field is unnecessary; a small patch near the house can grow a plateful of nutritious food and some income besides. Many have set up nutrition gardens inspired by her.
Community worker Pradeep Katara has played a large part in this journey. On his rounds he visits families, suggests better ways to tend their beds and links women to training when needed. Guidance at the doorstep gives families the courage to get more from their gardens. Babulal now mainly looks after the farm, and Sita Devi says five years of training and support have moved her family towards self-reliance.
Rajadiya's Manjula Ben: Turning a Stumble into a Stepping Stone
In Rajadiya village of Jhalod tehsil, Dahod district, Gujarat, lives Manjula Ben Katara, educated up to class five; her husband studied till class seven. They have a son and a daughter and two bighas of land, where farming depends entirely on the rain. With no work nearby, her husband went out in search of jobs, leaving the house and the field wholly in Manjula's hands.
Managing alone was hard. Housework swallowed the day, the field got too little time and there was no money for hired labour. Weeds spread and yields fell. Then, copying others without proper information, she bought hybrid seeds from the market. The weeds grew thicker, chemical sprays became necessary, the rains came unevenly and the moneylender's debt kept climbing. In the end she lost heart for farming and went with her children to join her husband in Surat, where they spent a year doing construction work under a contractor.
At first the contractor paid on time, which built trust. On that trust they drew only what they needed and left the rest of their wages with him. Then he changed overnight: abuse, death threats, a flat refusal to pay the balance, and he moved on to another site. Manjula and her husband had no option but to return, empty-handed and dejected, and worry over how the family would survive left her withdrawn.
In those days she met Bharti Ben, president of Vaagdhara's Saksham Samuh. Manjula told her everything and broke into tears. Bharti Ben comforted her and explained the group's work, and for the first time Manjula felt that someone was listening. She began attending meetings regularly. One day the facilitator, Narayan Bari, trained members in poultry and goat rearing, nutrition gardens and vegetable cultivation alongside traditional farming.
Taking part in every activity changed her understanding of farming. She began using indigenous seeds, manure and remedies, saving on market expenses. With her husband's consent she started poultry, bringing home a local-breed hen and rooster. Ten chicks grew up, five hens and five roosters, and selling the roosters brought four thousand rupees. Eggs soon began to sell too, covering small daily needs.
Since the field lies close to the house, the hens forage there, and this pays twice over: they eat insects, so pest control happens by itself and the cost of chemical sprays is saved. By selling eggs and birds, the family now puts away about twenty-five thousand rupees a year, and its finances are slowly steadying.
The brightest part of Manjula's story is her generosity. So that no one else has to endure what her family did, every year she gives one hen free to each of five needy families; thirty families have received birds from her so far. She also urges neighbours to take up poultry. One of her lessons is worth remembering: everyone joins the celebration, but it is the test of hard times that reveals who stands by you and who stands in your way. She is affectionate to both, for without the obstacle one would never learn the worth of the helper.
Fatepura's Biogas Plants: A New Environment Rising from the Hearth
The environmental crisis has entered everyday life. The air is polluted, the rains have turned moody and the effect on health is plain to see. It is natural to ask whether we are shouldering our share of responsibility. Some tribal families in Fatepura tehsil have answered from their own kitchens.
Under Vaagdhara's guidance, about six families here have installed biogas plants near their homes or fields. In villages such as Bhitodi, Patadiya, Ghanikhut, Madhava, Lakhanpur and Hadmat, one farmer each runs a plant. Where families once went to the forest daily for firewood before a meal could be cooked, kitchens now run on biogas stoves. Amid talk of cylinder shortages and supply crises, these villagers worry less, because their fuel is made in their own courtyard.
The benefits go beyond the kitchen. Reliance on forest wood has fallen, curbing tree felling. Women who once suffered from smoky stoves have found relief. Slurry from the plant enriches the soil and works as pure organic manure; farmers who now get enough of it have stopped buying chemical fertilisers such as urea and DAP. Village filth has lessened too.
Best of all, no big capital is needed: three or four animals produce enough gas for a family. A household with livestock gets fuel, manure and better health without depending on the market, which makes biogas a genuine blessing for poor families.
Conclusion
The circumstances in these villages differ, but the lesson is one. Kamla Devi travelled from goats to a tempo; Sita Devi earned income and respect from a single bed of vegetables; Manjula Ben gathered courage from hens after being cheated; and families in Fatepura lit their kitchen fires with dung and livestock. They had the same land, animals and families as before. The difference came with proper training, a place to speak at the monthly meetings and companions like Lalita, Narayan or Pradeep, who came to the doorstep and held their hands.
The road ahead is long. Many families still live at the mercy of the weather and under the shadow of compulsion. But these stories assure us that the way lies inside the village, provided women can organise, traditional knowledge receives modern support, and every successful family keeps the door open for those who follow.
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*Contact: vikasmeshram04@gmail.com
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