Some innovations change lives. A favourite of mine is the village milk collection system, a co-operative model. There's a dairy in the village, people bring in milk, the dairy in-charge places a sample on an instrument, checks the fat content, prints a receipt that tells the seller the fat content and the price. Then, once a week, the milk-seller encashes receipts.
As most villages do not have electricity, instruments and computers work on diesel generators. Every day the co-operative's van arrives to take the milk for sale in the nearby town.
In villages I visited last week, in arid Rajasthan, I saw this system at work. In the evening young girls, women and men streamed into the dairy. Their milk was checked, they collected their receipts. I asked them if they could read the numbers, written in English. They did not know the language, but could read their receipts.
Just consider the economics: one buffalo gives roughly 5 litres of milk each day; people earn, depending on the fat content, Rs 15 to Rs 25 per litre. Even the poorest - one-buffalo owners - earn. The money reaches them directly, in their village.
Consider also that this village, Laporiya, has been facing a back-breaking drought for the past nine years. Meteorological data shows the last good monsoon was in 1997, when it rained 700 mm. Since then rainfall has varied from 300-400 mm; it comes in a few cloudbursts. It is in this situation that animals become the mainstay of the economy. Animal care is much less risk-averse than agriculture. The dairy is the vital link in adversity - it links people to the market. It helps them cope with scarcity.
Market and retail proponents must understand this system is simple but not simplistic. It provides for the poorest and most marginalised, by investing in improving the productivity of common grazing lands. Today, across India, fodder is desperately short. Where there is land but no water for irrigation, farmers cannot cultivate crops, and so use the bonus of residues for animals.
The common lands - village grazing lands and forestlands - are over-exploited and under-productive. In most regions, villagers have told me they spend Rs 12,000 to Rs 20,000 per year of their meagre earnings, on an average, to buy fodder. But this economy is underground. There is no fodder policy in India, no intervention to protect the grazing lands or improve the productivity of forestland for food for our livestock. This is the 'other' food crisis.
The dairy in Laporiya works even in severe drought, because it is connected to the common grazing land. In this village and its vicinity, the NGO Gram Vikas Navyuvak Mandal has spent huge energies to vacate encroachments from common grazing lands.
Reclaiming the commons is the first step towards regenerating these lands. In these villages a fascinating technique has been evolved, called the chauka system, to trap the little rainfall they get and improve the grasslands. The villagers dig rectangular trenches - less than 1 foot deep - to temporarily hold rainwater before it flows into the next trench and then the next and so into the tank. With this system in place, the village common land has become a grand water collection area.
In other words, even meagre rain, if harvested, can provide sustenance. The issue then is to increase the productivity of each raindrop. If that scarce water is used for crops, it will benefit some and not all. It will also deplete the groundwater table, for farmers will dig deeper to get water for their fields.
On the other hand, if that water is used to turn it into milk, it will add value to that scarce resource. The market will work, but only if this politics of scarcity and equality is understood.
In the dingy dairy of Laporiya I learnt this: last year, after nine years of persistent drought, when it rained less than 300 mm, the village of 300 households sold milk worth Rs 17.5 lakh. It was a valuable lesson.
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