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By:

Ramesh Patil

19 September 2024 at 9:57:34 am

Insurance Mirage

Farmers in drought-scarred Latur find their claims trapped in a maze of technicalities and delay. Latur district has long been hostage to the vagaries of the monsoon. With the weather being increasingly defined by erratic temperatures and monsoon patterns, agriculture in Marathwada region is fast becoming a gamble. Each season, farmers stake their livelihoods on the caprice of rain which is either too little or unseasonal, causing crops to wither or rot. The Kharif season of 2025 has followed...

Insurance Mirage

Farmers in drought-scarred Latur find their claims trapped in a maze of technicalities and delay. Latur district has long been hostage to the vagaries of the monsoon. With the weather being increasingly defined by erratic temperatures and monsoon patterns, agriculture in Marathwada region is fast becoming a gamble. Each season, farmers stake their livelihoods on the caprice of rain which is either too little or unseasonal, causing crops to wither or rot. The Kharif season of 2025 has followed this weary script. Erratic rainfall throughout defined the monsoon season. Long dry spells were punctuated by bursts of excessive rain in scattered pockets, leaving fields ravaged. Key crops like soybean, pigeon pea (tur), and black gram (urad) suffered heavily. In many areas, yields fell by more than half. Across Latur district, the estimated damage is said to have stretched over 2.5 lakh hectares. For a region already classified as drought-prone, the blow was particularly severe. No Compensation It is precisely for such contingencies that the Pradhan Mantri Fasal Bima Yojana (PMFBY) exists. Touted as a safety net for farmers, the scheme promises financial protection against crop loss. In Latur, between 3.5 and 4 lakh farmers enrolled for the 2025 Kharif season, collectively contributing along with government subsidies, an estimated Rs. 250 to Rs. 300 crore in premiums to insurance companies. The farmers thought this would be a hedge against ruin. Yet, months after the damage, that promise remains unfulfilled as despite widespread and well-documented crop losses, compensation has not reached the vast majority of farmers. Farmers claims have stalled in a maze of procedural objections. Insurance companies are citing familiar technicalities like ‘data mismatches,’ inconsistencies in survey reports, and anomalies in satellite assessments. The effect on the ground is stark. Without compensation, farmers find themselves trapped in a tightening financial vise. Debts are accumulating at punishing interest rates. The farmers’ ability to invest in the next sowing cycle by buying seeds, fertilisers or even maintaining basic inputs has been severely compromised. For many households, the absence of timely insurance payments has transformed hardship into crisis. This administrative lapse is a major failure that cuts to the core of trust. Crop insurance schemes like PMFBY are designed to reassure farmers that the state stands behind them in times of distress. When that assurance falters, the consequences extend beyond a single season. The farmer loses confidence in government schemes and their very purpose is undermined. What the government needs to do is not indulge in any further explanation for the delay in compensation but intervene swiftly by giving farmers their due. The state government must treat the situation in Latur with the seriousness it demands. Leadership at the highest levels including Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis, has a crucial role to play in breaking the deadlock. Coordinated action between administrative authorities and insurance companies is essential to expedite the verification process and clear pending claims. More importantly, timelines to payout the overdue compensation must be enforced. Insurance, by definition, is a time-sensitive instrument. A payout delayed beyond a season risks becoming irrelevant. Direct benefit transfers to farmers’ accounts, once their eligibility has been established, should be prioritised to ensure that relief reaches those who need it most, when they need it most. As climate variability intensifies, districts like Latur will face increasing agricultural uncertainty, crop insurance schemes will become ever more central to rural resilience. But their credibility hinges not on policy design alone, but on its execution. A scheme that works on paper but falters in practice deepens the very vulnerabilities it seeks to mitigate. For the farmers of Latur, the issue is immediate. Their fields have already borne the cost of an unforgiving season. What they await now is not sympathy, but settlement. If action continues to lag, the damage will not be confined to crops or balance sheets. It will seep into the fragile compact between the state and its farmers. In Latur today, that compact hangs in the balance. (The writer is a farmer and resident of Latur district. Views personal.)

Bharat’s Jetson Cities, Light-years Away from Nature

Updated: Jan 20, 2025

Jetson Cities

One thing is for certain: our Bharatiya cities, the big metros and towns, are fast becoming like the ‘Jetson’ cities. For those who are unaware of Jetson cities, these were first shown in the famous Hanna-Barbera cartoon series, the Jetsons, set in the 2100s, where cities are air-tight glass globules tethered to the ground, and the only way to get in and out are the flying cars. Yes, we, the city-dwellers, aspire to tall skyscrapers, spectacular bridges, world-class tunnels, swooshing metro trains, and we are building Jetson-like flying cars. A few HD drone images here and there, during the day and at night and around twilight, and we are content that our cities have become the cynosure of our own eyes. We want our cities to be brightly lit, with neon signs, laser shows, and large billboard videos. We would then fulfil our inner desire to have a city on par with Tokyo, New York, and Shanghai.


Our buildings, designed for the next 30 years, are well air-conditioned, shielding occupants from a soupy dust bowl of brown smog, soot, particulate matter, and fine dust. It is said that most new home buyers invest at least 10% of their property’s price in enhancing the interiors, soundproofing their homes, using air purifiers and conditioners, and disconnecting from the outside world for that much-needed solace. Indeed, large builders promote their projects as close to nature amidst tranquillity. However, there is always another builder eager to get one plot of land ahead of yours to enjoy that nature. To be truthful, access to nature now comes at a premium - even the skies.


Let’s assume the working-age population is occupied in the leisure of our Jetson cities, but how many of their young school and college-going kids have seen the long arm of the Milky Way galaxy from their cities? How many have witnessed a comet zooming by? How many know about endemic plants with medicinal properties? When did they last see a chirping house sparrow? How many know that the nearest sewage drain was once a freshwater stream? When did they last find their suburban beach prettier than the resort beaches of Maldives?


The intent to ask these questions is simple: Bharat is currently at a crossroads. Pundits are enthusiastic about a cultural renaissance on the horizon. Corporate leaders, on the other hand, want us to invest hundreds of hours each week to pay our dues to the growth of the national GDP. But no one asks, if a cultural renaissance is to occur, who will generate the new understandings and insights of nature that arise typically during such a period of human advancement? No one is actually asking, for whom are we building the nation if there is no time for children, or worse, if there is no time or intent to have children. In the process of growing rich, we are about to become old. By 2047, 65% of the population under the age of 35 will grow beyond 35 all at once, and we’d have an enormous population in advanced ages with a tapering young population, a graph that looks like a banyan tree. Unfortunately, that young population will have no access to the knowledge that nature has to offer, neither flora and fauna nor the seas and the skies.


Our urbane lifestyles need tempering. Such tempering can occur only if we ensure the revival of natural sciences during this period of cultural renaissance and nation-building. Let’s not rely solely on the educational system. With Indian Knowledge Systems, constructive changes are underway, and academic curricula are poised to improve for the greater good. However, true knowledge arises only when parents and grandparents introduce children to nature. Genuine understanding also develops from extracurricular activities in schools and colleges that encourage kids to observe, journal, and act on their discoveries. On the positive side, our country’s forest cover is increasing, as announced by the government. However, efforts must be made to ensure that every school or college, whether in Mumbai, Vijayawada, Gorakhpur, Ratlam, Thrissur, Bhuj, Faridabad, Imphal, Manali, Cuttack, or Ajmer, guarantees that their students are well aware of the endemic nature of their surroundings and are regularly observing and recording data on whatever interests them. Let kids observe rivers and understand the volume of water that flows through them. Let children learn about the decline of house sparrows in their cities and what steps should be taken to revive their populations. Let them study the bees in their nearby groves and recognise the vital role these bees play in nature.


Of course, you need to learn AI, robotics, fintech, the next generation of management courses, and all the engineering bells and whistles. However, we must not leave the next generation with inadequate comprehension and skills for understanding nature. We must ensure that nature conservation is not merely lip service or a tool for politicised green activists. This can be achieved if natural sciences are given the respect they deserve at the school, undergraduate, and postgraduate levels.


Indeed, I am a plebeian, and you might feel that you, too, could write a rant about the plight of our urban lives. Urban development and municipal experts have many solutions to propose, but few are willing to take action. However, that is not the issue I wish to highlight. I aim to illustrate a much larger concern—that Indian city dwellers are disoriented and devoid of nature, lacking a guiding star to lead them toward a brighter future. Our cities of Mumbai, Delhi, Bengaluru, Ahmedabad, Kolkata, and Chennai have taken on characteristics reminiscent of Jetson-like cities. We show little regard for the Nagar Devata, Gram Devata, and Van Devata, who have protected the cities, towns, and forests that once surrounded us. We wait for formal governance to clean up our beaches, rivers, and ponds without making sufficient efforts to prevent pollution in the first place.


For those striving to grasp spirituality not through the Puranas and Aadi-Granth but through new-age podcasts, I recommend watching Vinay Varanasi’s podcast on Bhagavan Vishnu’s Dashavatar. If it is clear that Bhagavan Vishnu does not tolerate disregard for Bhudevi or Mother Earth, why do we, the devotees of Bhagavan Vishnu, continue to pollute our Mother Earth—her air, soil, waters, and sounds? Or have we taken Elon Musk's words at face value, assuming our next destination is Mars after destroying Earth, only to ruin Mars later, even worse than its current clinically sterile state? If that is the case, then bear with me when I say this: these Jetson cities stand on precarious pillars of ego, victimhood, apathy, and consumerism, waiting to be toppled either by the true harbingers of order or by false prophets. Therefore, teach the next generations to observe nature, appreciate our coexistence with other species, and venerate the forces of nature. By doing so, we humans will be good, at least for the next thousand years. If not, prepare for a bleak future by the end of this century.


(The author is a Space and Emerging Technology Fellow at the Centre for Security, Strategy and Technology, Observer Research Foundation, Mumbai. Views personal.)

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