Higher wages and a more equitable work experience is drawing some of the most marginalised communities from Odisha’s Ganjam to Kerala
Aishwarya Mohanty
Kuni Nayak with her daughter outside her house in Gundibira village in Surada block of Odisha’s Ganjam district. She lives in the village as her husband migrates to Kerala for work. Aishwarya Mohanty/The Migration Story
Ganjam, Odisha: Kuni Nayak, 30, from Gundibira village in Surada block of Odisha’s Ganjam district, proudly shows the modest home she and her husband, Jayant, have slowly built over the years. “We first built a wall, then another, and then the rest. What remains is just the roof,” Kuni said, pointing to the tin shade that currently serves as the house's ceiling.
This tin roof is a temporary solution, a work-in-progress that represents the journey of many migrant families in Ganjam—gradual progress through hard-earned money from distant places, most recent Kerala.
Ganjam, for years recognised as the source district feeding workers to the textile power looms to Surat, is now seeing record numbers migrate to Kerala, a preferred destination by the district’s poorest, the new migration corridor shaped by poverty of jobseekers, mostly those from the bottom of the caste hierarchy trying to navigate oppressive caste dynamics.
Jayant has been working in Ernakulam district Kerala for the past 15 years, sending back enough money to allow them to build their home brick by brick. Kuni remains hopeful that the family will finally be able to afford a pucca roof in the coming years.
Jayant and Kuni’s families are among the 80 families in the village that migrate to Kerala to find work. The village of nearly 150 households, has 80 families from the Dalit community while the rest belong to the Other Backward Castes and indigenous communities.
Yet, migration to Kerala has changed much more than just their addresses. It has reshaped the aspirations of some of the country’s most marginalised, their role within family structures, and even the economic patterns within their communities.
NEW SENSE OF RECOGNITION
An elderly couple, Basant and Sibu Nayak remain in their village as their son migrates to Kerala for work.
Aishwarya Mohanty/The Migration Story
Mithun Nayak, 26 did not have access to certain areas of his village Bada Badangi village in Ganjam.
“We weren’t even allowed to use the same water as they (upper caste residents) do. “But here at work, we even share meals,” he told The Migration Story, as he showed around the village pond and the share that Dalit communities from the village could use.
The Kerala experience has over the years spread by word of mouth.
Mitika Nayak (40), a native of Bada Badangi village, worked in Surat for two years before he joined others from his village in Kerala.
Kerala, once not even on the radar of Ganjam’s locals, is now a favored destination, especially for those belonging to the Scheduled Castes. The pull factors include higher wages and a more inclusive social environment.
Gradually, those from other, even upper castes, have begun migrating to Kerala, giving the original migrants who are by now familiar with the state, a rare edge over those who have socially acted superior for generations.
“For generations, we have faced discrimination and ostracisation. They wouldn’t talk to us but they are now willing to learn from us,” said Kumar Nayak (56).
“They ask about the kind of work we do, the money we earn. They come to us to learn the skills and techniques of masonry and we are more than happy to help always,” he said
It wasn’t the experience that the scheduled caste community members had in Surat, dominated by OBCs, villagers said.
“In Surat, people from the upper caste were more in number. They wouldn’t let me touch their machine. I had to dine separately, live separately. They would complain for the slightest mistake and it was becoming difficult to work in such an environment, so I had to quit,” said Mitika Nayak.
The Migration Story reported in a two-part series last month about the caste dynamics playing a key role in the decision to migrate to Surat, with those from the lower caste unwelcome in the city of opportunities.
The series explored the discrimination and exclusion by fellow Odia migrants from OBC groups of marginalized SC workers, leading them to slowly withdraw from Surat.
A recent study, co-authored by Madhusudan Nag, a Doctoral Scholar at the Centre for Development Studies in Thiruvananthapuram; Benoy Peter from the Centre for Migration and Inclusive Development, Perumbavoor; and Divya Varma from Aajeevika Bureau, Udaipur, and published in the Odisha Economic Journal highlights this shift in migration patterns from Ganjam.
The study examines how evolving migration routes and caste dynamics influence the types of jobs migrants pursue and the destinations they choose. It notes that the Ganjam-Surat migration corridor became dominated by OBC and other castes, with few SC migrants remaining.
Lead author of the study, Madhusudan Nag, explained, “There could be multiple reasons for why people started choosing Kerela over Surat, but the caste dynamics emerged as a leading factor during our study. By the late 1990s, Dalits began to experience marginalization in Surat due to discrimination and lack of cooperation from higher-caste Odia migrants. Through our interviews we saw that migrants in the Ganjam-Kerala corridor reported a safer environment and less discrimination compared to their experiences in Surat.”
FOLLOW THE MONEY
Gundibira village often appears desolate, with men migrating for work while women engage in daily wage labor or manage household chores. Aishwarya Mohanty/The Migration Story
In Kerala, migrants from the most marginalized communities gained a newfound sense of recognition, but it is significantly higher wages in Kerala that are drawing migrants, not just from Ganjam but other states as well, according to researchers.
Notably, the remittances from Kerala are also higher as Mitika puts it, “I will earn Rs 500 a day here and eat Rs 40/kg potatoes. I will earn Rs 1000 a day there and eat Rs 40/kg potatoes. Which is a better bargain?”
Similarly, Mithun who started migrating for work 10 years ago has seen his daily wage increase from Rs 160 per day to Rs 1000 per day. This increase for Mithun means, a better house and assured education for his child.
“I studied till the fourth grade. I had to drop out because my family couldn’t afford sending me to school and I had to start working at a very early age. I don’t want my son to follow my footsteps,” Mithun said.
“Mu chanhi bi ki siye patha padhu, bada manisa hau, officer banu (I would want him to study hard and become an officer someday),” he added.
Mithun has already started depositing Rs 500 every month in the bank as a saving for his son’s education.
Experts point out that remittances are crucial for the community to foster both financial and personal growth. “In most cases, with these remittances, they first repay their debts, make small improvements on their land if they own any, build their houses and start small businesses like setting up a grocery store in their village,” said Liby Johnson, Executive Director of nonprofit Gram Vikas. But the changes happen over several years, he said.
"Since this income is relatively new, it’s often the younger generation, rather than the elders, who decide how it’s spent," he explained. "As economic conditions improve, we observe a notable boost in self-confidence, particularly among women, who develop a stronger sense of self-worth and are in a much better position to assert it," he added.
The remittances are higher than what one earns in Surat. In Kalamba village of Polasara block of the district, where nearly 90% of the households have been traditionally migrating to Surat for work, there is a shift.
“The wages in Surat feel like they are stuck at the same rate. The working conditions have declined, but the wages remain the same. But now the newer generation wants to earn more and so the southern states seem more promising. Most of them are migrating to Kerala and Karnataka to work as delivery agents,” said Akshay Pradhan, a native of Kalamba and a social activist.
UNCHANGED REALITY
In most villages in Ganjam, while men migrate, women and children stay back in the village.
Aishwarya Mohanty/The Migration Story
Jayant Nayak was just 15 when he left home to work as a mason in Kerala. In his village, he had watched his father work tirelessly over the years as a farm labourer on farms of other people, as the family did not own any land of their own.
A study by Gram Vikas shows over two-fifths of the households in Surada did not own any agricultural land, with a large share from the Scheduled Castes.
As his father started migrating from the village for work, his mother took over the role of a contractual farm labourer to make an extra earning.
Today, his wife Kuni Nayak takes up that role. The work however remains scarce. This year Kuni managed work for 60 days at a wage of Rs 300 per day.
While new migration corridors emerge, the lives of those left behind remain unchanged.
“There was a time when there were more agricultural fields here, my mother-in-law tells me. But today there is hardly any left. The land has been reduced and for the land that remains,” Kuni said.
“Changing rainfall patterns, pests, and rampant crop damage have made it difficult to farm. We get work depending on these factors and if it starts raining and the crops are damaged, our work and wages are also proportionally reduced,” Kuni explained.
These impacts were also reflected in the Gram Vikas study that showed four out of every five households currently engaged in agriculture in Surada, reported that the changes in the climate had a negative impact on their ability to engage in profitable agriculture. Two-thirds of the households reported erratic/ inadequate rains affecting farming negatively.
The women and elderly men who stay back in the village also claim that despite having job cards, the work under the rural jobs scheme - Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Act (MGNREGA) - is irregular and insufficient, limiting the only major source of income in their native village.
"Women from our village don’t migrate—only the men do. But if there were work opportunities here, the men would stay as well," said Mini Nayak (56).
"We have a Self-Help Group (SHG), but no one has initiated any skill training for us that could help us earn a living. Meanwhile, the men from our village have gained skills wherever they went, whether in Surat or Kerala.”
(This story is part of our series on caste and migration. You can read the first two parts of the series here and here)
Aishwarya Mohanty is an independent journalist based in Odisha, and reports on gender, climate change and environment.
Comments