A Pinch of Salt

A few years ago, I visited the 'Chotta' or 'Small' 'Rann of Kutch' - a dry, barren, extremely inhospitable mud desert in the western India. This region - a part of the larger Rann of Kutch which borders Pakistan on the north and the Arabian sea on the south, is a flat, low-lying plane with extreme weather. During the day the sun beats down mercilessly and heats up the parched earth upto 50 Deg C and the nights it drops below freezing point. This region of India is so backward that even the Government of India has not surveyed 5000 Sq Kms of land - EVER.

And what were we doing there? As it happens, this region receives very scanty rain during a few months of Monsoon, and due to the soil composition (mostly clay,) the water does not seep in to the ground. This causes an annual 'flooding' and forms marshes and shallow water bodies in some parts of the Choota Rann. These water bodies act as temporary resting points for thousands of migratory birds including pink flamingos. This region is also home to the famous Asiatic Wild Ass.
During our stay there we had a chance to visit a tiny salt farm in the middle of nowhere. Let me paint the picture for you - Imagine flat, dry, hard, flakey ground beneath your feet, and as far as the eyes can see up to the horizon. Its so hot that a few seconds directly under the sun, and you have a parched throat and dizziness sets in. Your eyes play games with your mind, and you can see mirages all around.
There in this unrelenting and unforgiving weather, a man, with his rolled-up muddy pants was wading in shin deep salt water collected in a square 30 feet x 30 feet x 1 feet ditch. Our guide, a local chap, told us that these salt farmers were part time contract farmers during winters. In summers when there was no work on the farms in the inlands, they had to come out in the rann and earn a living for 6 months working on these salt farms. The way it works, as he explained is that, the farmer first manually digs 3 - 4 such ditches to collect the water. These ditches act as 'pans' to evapourate the saline water. For the saline water itself he digs a 10 - 25 feet deep hole in the mud (again manually) and pumps it out in to the 1st 'farm'. As the heat evapourates the water, he moves the concentrated water to the 2nd farm, and then to the 3rd till the water gives out crystals of salt. During this whole 6-month period the water has to be continously tended to and the farmer wades in the water the whole day. This is harvested and sold to merchants for a pittance. The fruits of his labour - Rs 15000 for the whole 6 months of effort. In that amount he has to manage the fuel for the pump, and his sustenance.
And even in such hardship, the farmer was as jolly as one could be in weather, enthusiastically telling us about how he hopes his son will lead a better life thanks to the salt he produces. His 10-year old son walks 2 - 3 kms to school everyday. His school is a makeshift tent over a depression in the otherwise flat terrain (to keep it relatively cooler), a small black board and a few other children of salt farmers from nearby areas.
On our way back, our guide told us that when these farmers die, and their bodies are cremated on the funeral pyre, everything is reduced to ashes - everything but their feet, which become so callous due to the wading in saline water day in and day out. And that he said is how they left their 'footprint' on earth after they were long gone.
Even today, every now and then I remember that salt farmer and this of the price he pays for adding flavour to our lives.