For the last 10 days, mobile phone screens keep shining day and night in almost every house of Manikapur village. Mothers plead with their sons to return home; Wives urge their husbands to stay safe; And sisters, their voices echoing parents’ concern, tell their brothers not to chase money at the expense of their lives.
Since the war between Iran and the United States-Israel alliance began in the last week of February, in almost all 750 households in Manikapur village in southern Odisha district Ganjam, families have resorted to video calls whenever they feel the need to check in on their loved ones. Almost every family in Manikapur has at least one member working in the Gulf.
Udayanath Barik, 35, sarpanch of Manikapur Panchayat and himself a veteran of foreign migration, says that villagers prefer to work in Gulf countries because the wages are higher than in India. “As employees gain experience and learn new things, their pay increases,” he says.
There is no estimate of the number of people from India or Odisha stranded as migrants in the war zone.
A girl is seen collecting ration for her family at her Panchayat office, as her parents work in the Gulf region, in Manikapur, Ganjam district of Odisha. | Photo courtesy: Vishwaranjan Raut
son and husband
Manikapur, barely 5 kilometers from National Highway 16, looks like a small town set in an almost rural landscape. The main street of the village, lined with attractive houses, gives the impression of a prosperous settlement. They are houses built by non-resident immigrants chasing their dollar-dream abroad.
Most of the international migrant workers in the village have only studied up to class 12th. As boys move into their 20s, their aspirations extend beyond the village, beyond India.
50 year old Namita Singh never paid much attention to the news. Whenever she got time, she would watch entertainment channels. “Now I can’t miss the news,” she says. “They show updates about the war (in West Asia), where I have two sons. They are both 20. I’m always worried about them,” says Singh.
Namita, who has been a housewife all her life, has now learned to differentiate between bombs and missiles. She says, “My sons work in Jordan. They send me video clips of their neighborhood, sometimes showing missiles intercepting in the sky or debris falling to the ground. Every conversation ends with the same assurance that they are safe.”
Their neighbour, 60-year-old Reena Jena, who lost her husband several years ago, no longer needs the help of a tech-savvy youth to connect with her son over smartphone calls. His son, Ramesh Jena, works as a handyman and security guard in Abu Dhabi, the capital of the United Arab Emirates.
A few houses away, 70-year-old Abhi unnecessarily speaks loudly, hiding his nervousness in front of his wife and the wives of his three sons. “My two sons work near Dubai and one is in Qatar,” he says. “When we see missiles flying in the sky on television and hear about attacks in Gulf countries, we always tell them to be alert and stay indoors. Life is more important,” he says.
Aged parents of a family are seen at their home in Manikapur in Ganjam district of Odisha as their two sons are stuck in the Gulf region for work. | Photo courtesy: Vishwaranjan Raut
Migration and life abroad
“Working hours often exceed 12 or 13 hours a day. There are eight people sitting on bunk beds in a 120-square-foot room, and the food is not always to our liking. What matters most is the savings from salaries,” Ajay, 23, who works in Jordan, admitted over a phone call. The amount they send back home can range between ₹20,000 to ₹60,000 per month.
The village sarpanch, who worked in the UAE, Malaysia and Saudi Arabia between 2008 and 2019, did odd jobs like tailoring, welding and gas cutting. Over time, they acquired additional skills in the workplace, which helped them move up to better-paying assignments.
What has changed, he and others say, is that villagers are now finding it easier to live abroad. There are several reasons for this loss of fear: smartphone and Internet access, the past experiences of early immigrants, and greater investment in education and exposure for children whose parents worked abroad, giving them a better quality of life.
140 Indians including 60 Telugus stranded in Bahrain were brought to Kochi by air.
It is not just Manikapur village from where men migrate. Several nearby villages – Maheswapur, Kanipur, Luchapada, Kairasi, Vikrampur, Khojapali, Bhikapada and Chandipatha – have a large number of migrant workers employed abroad, especially in Gulf countries. In fact, Khallikote block of Ganjam district is the center of migration of workers to foreign destinations.
Barik explains in detail how the system operates. Local agents and large consulting companies have been active in this area for a long time. They often advertise in local newspapers looking for workers, although in many cases, word of mouth plays an important role in reaching potential candidates.
These networks do not work in isolation. Youth who want to do a job abroad start preparing in advance. Families arrange for a consultation fee of between ₹70,000 and ₹1 lakh, which usually includes a one-way air ticket and documentation costs. Potential migrants are usually expected to have some kind of skills certification, obtained either from formal institutions or informal training setups, to make the migration process easier.
Most jobs are in semi-skilled labor categories: sewing, construction support, security work, and industrial labor.
A grandmother is under stress as her grandson is working in the gulf country of Manikapur in Ganjam district of Odisha. | Photo courtesy: Vishwaranjan Raut
Social mobility and marriage
In Odisha, the aspiration to earn a respectable income abroad is driven by two key social factors: building concrete village houses to impress daughters and financing expensive weddings for daughters.
Single storey, 2 to 3 room dwellings are common in rural Odisha. However, Manikapur presents a paradox. Many of the houses have been converted into two-story concrete structures. The steel doors and tiled facades reflect the villagers’ eagerness to invest heavily in houses that would be distinct from their neighbours.
While family members send money from the Gulf countries, those left behind oversee the construction of houses. Once the concrete house is built, other priorities gradually take over.
Marriage places additional financial burden on families. In Manikapur, dowry (often referred to as cash gift) usually ranges from ₹1 lakh to ₹5 lakh. Apart from cash, gold jewellery, furniture, utensils, quintals of paddy and clothes for relatives are considered essential components of marriage arrangements. A large community feast is also an essential part of weddings in this region.
When a government team visited the village to inquire about the migrant workers, 65-year-old Mukta Gowda came forward with a barrage of questions. She was curious to know how the ongoing crisis abroad would affect her two sons (one works in Dubai and the other in Russia) and her grandson, who is also in Dubai.
“If there were strong employment opportunities here, we would not have sent our people abroad. Apart from meeting daily needs, social obligations require huge expenditure. About two and a half decades ago, I spent ₹7 lakh and ₹9 lakh on the marriage of my two daughters,” recalls Gowda, adding that it was not easy to repay the borrowed amount.
A survey launched by Aid-at-Action, an international non-profit organization, to assess the extent of migration in Manikapur village has found that 62 members of the 61 families listed so far are working in other countries.
Read this also Iran war and the uncertain future of migrants
on the shore
Many villagers migrating abroad are often unprepared for unexpected events such as the conflicts that occur periodically in West Asia.
“Whenever someone migrates abroad, the district administration should be informed so that the state government can respond effectively in case of crisis,” says Jyoti Prakash Brahma, senior manager of Aid-at-Action, an organization that works on migration issues.
According to Brahma, most of the migrants come from marginal farming families and lack stable sources of income. “The government has launched several livelihood programs that people can explore before deciding to migrate abroad,” he says.
When the war broke out, the issue of security of migrants in Gulf countries started resonating in political circles. Former Chief Minister Naveen Patnaik wrote on social media platform
From conversations with family members and people stranded in the war-hit Gulf countries, the people of Manikapur are unlikely to return anytime soon. Village sarpanch Barik says from his experience, “Migrant workers often surrender their passports with their employers. If they want to return home, it takes a lot of convincing for the employers to agree to their request.” Furthermore, migrant workers do not always have easily available money to travel back home. Chief Minister Mohan Charan Majhi has expressed concern over reports about several Odia migrant workers stranded in West Asian countries. He has instructed the Chief Secretary to keep a close watch on the situation.
So far, the Odisha Family Directorate, which was set up two years ago as a one-stop point of contact for migrants in distress, has received around 200 telephone calls from people from the Gulf. A nodal officer has been appointed to coordinate with the Ministry of External Affairs and facilitate the safe return of migrants.
A woman makes a video call with her son, who is on his way to work in the Gulf region from his native village Manikapur in Odisha’s Ganjam district. | Photo courtesy: Vishwaranjan Raut
those left behind
In an effort to maximize savings for their families, many workers return home only every two or three years.
Young wives often waited years to see their husbands again. In their absence, the responsibility of managing children’s education, caring for elderly in-laws and accessing government welfare schemes falls squarely on their shoulders. Many children go years without seeing their father.
One villager, requesting anonymity, said that prolonged separation sometimes strains family relationships and creates discord among those left behind.
“Women hardly have any space to share their concerns. In my husband’s absence, it is difficult to deal with the emotional and social void. Even going to my parents to decompress is not always possible, as male members there are also away for work,” says Sarita (name changed to protect privacy), who got married last year.
In another nearby village, Paika Kaneipur, 45-year-old Surajya Muduli is worried. Her husband works in Saudi Arabia, while her son works in Jordan. “Women like us learn to support each other during crises at home,” she says.
Speaking over phone from Saudi Arabia, Surjya’s husband Akshay Muduli says, “Who in the world would want to stay away from their family? I worked in different parts of India, but the earnings were never enough to meet my needs. Ultimately, I had to go to Saudi Arabia.”
satyasundar.b@thehindu.co.in
Edited by Sunalini Mathew
