Walk through the narrow, dusty roads of this bayaluseeme village. You come across many farmers. Their worn-out outfits, the houses indicate a hand-to-mouth existence. A typical small time farmer's life you could say. Balasandra, like its thousands of unfortunate counterparts elsewhere, is a typical semi-arid village.

Now, go a step further. Make enquiries about this hamlet in the nearby town of Mulabagilu. Ask any social workers, government officials or scribes at Kolar city, the district headquarters, 45 minutes drive away. They have nothing to contribute, but the village has.

Balasandra has a surprise in store for all its ignorant brethren from near and far. Forget the doubting Thomases, many of our mobile age citizens might not take the story on its face value. Yet, this poor village is so rich in generosity that it makes humanity proud!

Since independence, panchayat elections were held here only thrice. On all other occasions, it was a unanimous decision. Only hand counts of quarrels and disputes go to the police station and court. Majority are settled at the grama panchayath by the village leaders headed by the village chief.

But then this is only a tip of the ice-berg. Co-operation and unity among the villagers is as deep as the legendary iceberg. Whenever the tank, the only source of irrigation for the village does not fill up to the brim, they share the water and cultivable land proportionately.

This noble system of sharing water and land in years of scanty rainfall is called damasi in other parts of the district. The name seems to have originated from the Persian word ‘damasha.’ Interestingly, at Balasandra, nobody knows this word though they are following this system very religiously.

Creating a lifeline

Doddakere, a 66-acre tank constructed by the rulers two centuries ago is the lifeline of the hamlet. In 1907, the British repaired the tank. It has a command area of 30 hectares. Paddy is the main crop. The total number of families in the hamlet is 165 (Population: 791). vokkaligas are highest (83 families) in number. Daliths (42) and pichuguntlas (15) families are sizeable.

Sprinkling of idigas, kurubas, gollas, vishwakarmas and others complete the picture. Sharing of water is done only for the Rabi crop. Luckily, if the tank is full – such occasions are very rare – farming goes on as usual. After the ardra rains, sometime in November, the village chief and a few others visits the tank and takes stock of the situation. If the water falls short of the requirement, they decide on clamping a proportionate restriction.

The neergatti (person who is in charge of distributing tank water to the fields) is then asked to tam-tam (making an announcement by beating the drum) in the village that a meeting is convened to chalk out the details of sharing. The chief along with a few elders of the village makes decisions. The next step is earmarking the lands to be cultivated. The farmers having fields far away are assigned lands nearer to the tank. While doing so, a dalith might get a portion of vokkaliga’s land. Caste is not taken into account, ever.

Sharing is caring

The paddy fields are usually divided into small plots called gundla. A gundla can be recognised by the small bunds surrounding it from four sides. Gundlas vary in size – it may be 3 gunte, 4 gunte, 8 gunte or of any measurement. (One gunte is 2.5 cents; 40 gunte make an acre). The original land-holders in the proximity of the tank get to cultivate in their own lands, albeit partially. For others, it is a fluid situation.

All the 165 families here do not own lands. A few work as labourers to eke out their livelihood. Yet, if they take part in the panchayathi and express their interest to cultivate, they too are given a small piece of land. Take for example the case of Anjappa (32), a dalith, belonging to dombara community who works in the nearby stone quarry for Rs 50 a day. Whenever there was the decision of sharing (damasha) Anjappa would propose to cultivate. He is granted 5 gunte of land. Many times he was able to reap 3 bags of paddy – 150 kgs of rice. That takes care of his 5-member family for 4 to 5 months.

Cooperation is tradition

Anjappa and people like him cannot keep bullocks. So, if he gets a bit of land, how does he plough it? C Narayanappa, a college lecturer explains, “our village has a very great tradition of mutual co-operation. After all, for how long one needs bullocks to plough a 5-gunte land?

One or the other farmer who has bullocks will lend it to him for free. It is a ‘live and let live’ principle.” Nobody in the village knows for sure when exactly this system started. They claim that such a practice is prevalent in their village only. B Narayana Gowda, the village chief is 72. He has inherited this post and recalls that his father and grandfather too were village chiefs.

“Is it difficult to take decisions about land sharing? Aren’t there disputes and difference of opinions? Isn’t your job tough?” I shoot a bunch of questions at Narayana Gowda. The ever-smiling grand old man has a hearty laugh.

“Not at all. See, it is a question of give and take. Adjustments. If somebody is unhappy about the land offered to him, we try to analyse his complaint objectively. We might offer him another piece. Generally we do not quarrel. It’s a case of convincing and keeping the village’s interest supreme.”

Three neergattis, Ramappa, Muniswamy and Venkataramappa work on rotation. If there is good harvest, each farmer offers a head load of crop to the neergatti. If both the crops are good, this is adequate for the neergatti to feed his family throughout the year.

No alcohol

Liquor shops are not permitted inside the hamlet. There were consistent efforts to start one. But the villagers have collectively opposed it.

Says retired Headmaster T Subrayappa, “If somebody wants to booze, he is free to go elsewhere to do it. But selling liquor inside the village boundary is not allowed.”

Villagers have moved the Jala Samvardhane Yojane Samgha to sanction Rs 12 lakh for the renovation of Doddakere. In the first phase of work, the villagers have suggested to keep a waste weir sluice on either side of the tank. This facilitates them to use a good portion of overflow water to irrigate their fields. This innovation was made possible because of the local geographic situation and villagers’ intelligence.

In other tanks, this overflow flows to the next village. How do they visualise their village without this system of sharing? “Oh, no. We wouldn’t have survived till today” replies B M Krishnappa, as others nod in agreement.

THE SPIRIT OF SHARING AND CARING Kolar, the land of damasha has many contrasts. The once water-rich district of 4,000 tanks is now digging bore wells, crossing 1,000 feet in its endeavour to find water. Fluorosis problem in Bagepalli and surrounding areas is on the rise. It is quite unfortunate that the damasha system of sharing water has escaped media and the attention of researchers. The system is still practiced in at least 4-5 other villages of Kolar district. Bodampalli and Chaluvarayanahalli in Chintamani taluk are a few examples. People speculate that the system may have come from the neighbouring Andhra Pradesh. But then, where and when did this system origin? How strong is the practice in the villages where it is still followed? In a world where we have people who go all the way to the Supreme Court for the sake of one-inch land damasha has to be documented to remind them that generosity of this extent still exists!

Courtesy: Spectrum, Deccan Herald: February 22, 2005
http://www.deccanherald.com/deccanherald/feb222005/spt1.asp.

Read other articles of the author.