salt march – Mick Canning

trichy skyline 2

Another shot of the skyline of Sri Ranganathaswamy Temple in Trichy.

trichy temple door

Decorated door in the Sri Ranganathaswamy Temple.The scorch marks at the foot of the door are from candles and incense sticks, which have been lit and offered to the god in pujas.

shore temple

Shore Temple, Mamallapuram. Mamallapuram is a short way South of Chennai (Madras) and is a large village which is home to hundreds of stone sculptors. The village itself has a wealth of old temples and sculptures in the form of friezes and ‘Rathas’ – literally chariots, carved out of solid rock. The Shore Temple shown here has been extensively weathered by wind and sea, but has a remarkable amount of detail still preserved.

5 rathas elephant

Carved Elephant at the 5 Rathas, Mamallapuram. An incredible complex of rock-cut temples from the Pallavan Period, 300m from the shore. They were buried under the sand until rediscovered and excavated by the British some 200 years ago.

side street

Sometimes it seems that there is a temple down every side-street. This one is in a village near the town of Dindigul, Tamil Nadu.

roof shrine

This roof shrine is nearby.

salt-workers

Salt workers pose for a photograph at the salt pans near Marakkanam, just north of Pondicherry (now renamed Puducherry, its original name before the French arrived). The sea is allowed to flow into ‘pans’ (not unlike paddy fields!) and then evaporates over several days under the hot sun, leaving behind a layer of salt which is gathered by hand. Salt has been gathered this way in India from time immemorial, but when the British in India imposed a salt tax, this eventually led to the ‘Salt March’ led by Gandhi, where he symbolically gathered salt at the coast after a 200km march, an action that contributed to the loosening of the hold that the British Raj held on India.

salt-workers

Salt workers pose for a photograph at the salt pans near Marakkanam, just north of Pondicherry (now renamed Puducherry, its original name before the French arrived, although everybody continues to refer to it as Pondicherry, or just ‘Pondi’). The sea is allowed to flow into ‘pans’ (not unlike paddy fields) and then it evaporates over several days under the hot sun, leaving behind a layer of salt which is gathered by hand. Salt has been gathered this way in India since time immemorial.

Even when I took this photograph in 2006, on my first visit to South India, it struck me as a harsh environment in which to have to earn a living. Since then, I have learned more.

Salt is, and always has been, an essential commodity, especially for a population living in hot conditions, but when the British in India imposed a salt tax, this eventually led to the ‘Salt March’ led by Gandhi to Dandi, on the Gujarat coast, where he symbolically gathered salt at the coast after a 200km march, an action that contributed to the loosening of the hold that the British Raj held on India.

In Gujarat alone, approximately 112,000 labourers are employed in the industry (Gujarat State Law Commission figures).

In all, there are approximately 1,000,000 people employed across a total of nine states harvesting salt. Typically, women and girls make up most of the workforce.

But the conditions that the salt miners labour under today are little better than they were then.

They suffer eye problems and blindness from constant exposure to the sun reflected off of the brilliant white of the salt pans. Skin lesions from the salt are common. After a while, feet become septic and absorb salt; so much so, that according to some accounts even after death the salt content in their limbs are so high that hands and feet are difficult to burn during cremation (Daily Telegraph 24/2/10).

In addition, the labourers suffer from many of the other problems common across the labour force, such as exploitation by contractors and money lenders, and poor educational opportunities for their children. There is often inadequate housing, drinking water and food, and an absence of primary healthcare (Indian Express 26/4/16).

It is frequently said that saltpan workers have three ways to die: first gangrene, second TB (tuberculosis) or third blindness.

Their life expectancy is 50 – 60 years.

The hardships and problems they face are slowly being brought to the public’s attention, but clearly there is still a very long way to go before they enjoy what most would regard as decent working conditions.