I was born and brought up in Delhi, and barring two short visits to villages, as part of the orientation programmes conducted by IRMA, had never visited a village. I had also never been to Rajasthan and hence was suitably excited at the prospect of visiting this colourful and romantic state. As our bus crossed the city of Bikaner and drove towards the village of Dandkala, located 50 kilometres from India's western border, we were catapulted into an entirely different world.

The climate and terrain of western Rajasthan makes it one of the most inhospitable areas in the world. The topography is of plains merging with shifting sand dunes, the slopes of which are lightly furrowed by the wind's constant action. The panorama is that of an expanse of sand intermittently broken by rocky outcrops and a few habitations. There are no rivulets or streams. Seasonal temperatures vary widely. Winter night time temperatures may drop to 5°C and summer day time temperatures may rise to 45–48°C.

Dandkala (my home for the next few weeks) is a multi-caste village with Rajputs, Jats and Nais staying in different hamlets. Refugees from Pakistan after the 1971 Indo-Pak War were settled in Dandkala by the Indian government. It is the people, the Pak Visthapits, who make Dandkala the unique and remarkable village it is. Basic amenities like electricity, roads, toilets and clean water were all absent. Inhabitants build their houses with locally available materials like grass, wood, and shrubs, and with unfired mud bricks plastered with a mixture of mud and cow dung.

The literacy level is very low, around 40%, according to the records of the URMUL Trust, an NGO that is active in the area. In the beginning of 2008, the village primary school (which was established in 1992) was upgraded from class five to class eight. 

The first thought that crossed my mind after I had recovered from the tiring journey was that the next fifty days would be challenging. But I thanked the Almighty for leading me to Dandkala, a near-replica of the village that I had often dreamt of. Life would undoubtedly be tough. However, it would also be full of opportunities for me to display the potential that I knew I possessed. I wanted to make a contribution to Dandkala's development through my small but sincere and dedicated efforts.

On the completion of my field work, I wanted to leave the village a better place. I also wanted to continue my association with the URMUL Trust, my host organisation, and with Dandkala after the conclusion of this assignment.

Dandkala is a major centre of the income generating activities organised by the URMUL Trust, the NGO operating in the village. The local women are renowned for their exquisite kashida embroidery. Earnings from this activity form a major source of income for many village families. Indeed, this alternative but regular income is necessary for the artisans of Dandkala. On an average, women earn Rs 2,000 per month, which is a sizeable income in this region. This increases the women's self-confidence providing them an opportunity of becoming primary breadwinners.

The villagers were friendly and helpful, not wary of us. Interestingly, they evidenced an excellent understanding of caste and class issues. They also, thanks mainly to their ideological leanings, exhibited a significant level of political consciousness in terms of party politics. They emphasised the importance of skills needed for managing the environment and earning a living. They also discussed marriage, children, and the importance of socialising the children properly.

I can never forget the hospitality of the people of Dandkala, particularly of the family who hosted me. In spite of being under huge financial debt, they still took care of me and my village partner as if we were their own children. They did not eat rice and vegetables because they could not afford them but they cooked delicious pulav and vegetables for us every day. Words cannot describe their love for us. I remember how worried they became when we told them that we wanted to go to the Rajput hamlet for a transect walk (information-gathering exercise). Later on I came to know that relations between the Jats and the Rajputs were less than cordial, and it was because of this that our host family was reluctant to let us go to the Rajput hamlet. I learnt how a village exists as an aggregation of castes and communities.

I learnt basic household chores such as cooking and washing clothes. I realised the importance of a scarce resource like water in this parched land. The ability to work collectively, to manage time and money efficiently, to first observe and then analyse, to look at the root cause of a problem by imagining oneself to be in the shoes of the other person, and to devise practical solutions — these were all skills that I learned during my time in Dandkala. Most importantly, I learned that with power comes responsibility, and one must choose one's words carefully.

I spent a major part of my time in Dandkala talking to villagers through the day and observing and interacting with poor families. This meant getting to know their life experiences, learning from and helping them, and also encouraging them to voice their opinions about their problems and needs. Prior to this, I had known nothing about what it is like to be poor. After seeing the poverty in Dandkala, I am grateful for what I have. I recall the words of J R D Tata who once said: "I don’t want my companies to be islands of prosperity in a sea of poverty." 

An experience that proved greatly satisfying was helping to bring electricity to Dandkala. There was no electricity in the village despite it being shown as an electrified village in government records. I felt so strongly about this anomaly that I got the community to send an application for village electrification, and motivated the villagers to talk to the local MLA Devi Singh Bhati. The efforts produced immediate results. Within twelve days of submitting the application, electricity meters were installed in the houses of all the families who had submitted the file earlier. Now, Dandkala is actually electrified, and receives regular electricity supply. This happened a month later, on 8 January 2009, after I had left the village. But I kept on motivating both the NGO and the villagers to travel the last mile on this journey. The power of collective action convinced me that villagers require facilitators, not sympathisers.

Conducting research for my theme paper on the marketing of embroidered clothes and accessories helped me immensely in understanding the dynamics of rural marketing in a village such as Dandkala. It was an eye opener to see how expensive and high quality clothes like kurtas sold in reputed shops like Fabindia across the country are produced in a small village in western Rajasthan.

I think the real challenge lies in mobilising the limited resources of villagers and not giving something in charity. An act of charity can help build an entire village, but is this the solution to the problems of rural India? After my time in Dandkala, I firmly believe that the solution lies in providing long-term and sustainable livelihood opportunities to villagers. Charity is only a short-term solution... it can never resolve a problem permanently and effectively.

To paraphrase J R D Tata who once said: "I don't want India to be an economic superpower. I want India to be a happy country."