On Road in North East India-10

 

Middle Men, not a dirty word!

 

I was ready and raring to go on the chilly November morning when the lean and wire-framed Horticultural Field Assistant Dhanpal Singh at Roing, Arunachal Pradesh knocked on my doors .

My Samsung Galaxy Note displayed

“Roing… 7 degrees Celsius”. 

 

I need to meet as many orange/ pineapple growers to understand their sales and marketing strategy within 48 hours and Dhanpalji – as I begun to address him right from the moment alighted the previous day from Tezu – has already lined up a few meetings for the day.

“Sir, car ready. Shall we go?” he asked.

We climbed down quickly and got into the Maruti Gypsy – the most cumbersome vehicle given my tall frame and less legroom in the conductor’s seat (next to the driver). Sensing my discomfort, Dhanpalji smiled and said: “It is a very short distance!”

Before I could settle down on the rickety and bumpy ride, we were inside a compound and saw a short, portly young man rushing out to greet us with two kids in tow.

Chiliko Meto, I must tell you, is a gregarious man. Good English and equally excellent command over Hindi. Thankfully, no linguistic challenges unlike in Assam where I have to encounter Bengali and Assamese – both languages I am unfamiliar with.

Some people quickly put you at ease.  Their personality is total friendly. Of course, there are others at whose sight, you freeze. They are guarded and every single word is measured before it slips out. Too cautious and therefore lacks warmth. Even their handshake is firm, not warm. You would have preferred shaking hands with an iron pillar.

Luckily Meto is a warm personality. We exchange greetings and begin to talk business.

“Have you sold your bagan (orchard)?” Dhanpalji asked Meto.

A beaming Meto nods and blurts out, “at 70 paise per fruit”. A Congress man and Zilla Parishad Chairman, he owns 3,000 orange trees spread across 10 hectare at Balali village – say almost an hour long drive on the Trans Arunachal Highway coming up linking Tezu with Roing. In fact this prestigious Highway passes along his bagan. 

This was his maiden year of harvest and he was proud of having sold his produce at 70 paise per fruit.

“What?” Dhanpalji exclaimed almost jumping out of his seat. … “70 paise?”

“Yes…. Something wrong, Dhanpal?” demanded Meto.

Meanwhile, the two little kids walked in with a tray of piping hot tea and some cookies and begun to serve. Cute little ones and they were serving us in the most dignified way. The girl Anina Meto – handing over cups and saucer to her elder brother Atindo – not more than five years – to be handed over to us seating in the aesthetically decorated drawing room of their sweet papa.
“Why did you sell at such a low price? I got it done at Rs.1.60 per fruit for the government nursery,” says the 18-year experienced Horticultural Field Assistant, hailing from Uttar Pradesh.

If you expect Meto to drop his jaws down in horror, you’re mistaken.

“It’s okay,” responds the 3,000 tree owner, having finished his maiden harvest. Assuming each tree gives 100 oranges in its maiden year of harvest, the volume would be 300,000. His actual – not notional – loss of income is mind boggling: Rs.2.7 lakhs! Instead of pocketing Rs.4.8 lakhs, he settled down for Rs.2.1 lakhs.

Is he regretting his poor decision? I ask.

No. Not at all. “You learn from your own mistake. Next year, I will be more careful,” he says.

He was so full of vigour and happy state of mind over his first year harvesting, he decides to drive us down to the bagan. He hops into our Maruti Gypsy – pushing our Nepali driver to the back seat – and takes control to steer us through the under construction Trans Arunachal Highway to his Balali farm.

Meto is not the only one to sell at such low price to the buyers from Karimganj, Assam. These middle men – mostly Muslims – buy either the entire output for a lumpsum or per fruit basis and transport them to Karimganj – 700 km away – and from there push oranges into Bangladesh for some value addition and exported to Europe and the Persian Gulf under the label, “Produce of Bangladesh”!

Smart Bangladeshis!

Minonge Linggi, another orange grower from Roing again with 4,000 trees, also does the same. He also sells to the same Karimganj gang at rock bottom prices.

The previous evening, when I visited the local market with Dhanpalji, we found the same oranges sell at Rs.7 per unit. Pine apples sold at Rs.5 at farmgates, selling at Rs.25 a piece. Farm fresh ginger at Rs.2/kg at farmgates! (Rs.15/kg at the Pasighat mandi in Arunachal Pradesh, hardly 100 km away from Roing…. Hang on, Rs.10 per 100 gm in Karol Bagh, New Delhi!).

Why this discrepancy? Obviously the role of middlemen crops up. What is that they do and reap such huge windfall profit? Is it okay? Is it ethical? I thought to raise these questions to my favourite supply chain friend.

“Do you know a box of bananas bought at US$4 at the farmgate is sold at US$30 in supermarkets? Are you aware the price of Moldovian apples have a 2:17 price from farm to when they are sold in next door Europe!! This value change is not the only change that so called middle men bring, they also allow the supply chain to function as a conduit. Please don’t undermine the importance of middlemen, please do not make them out to be wasteful,” thundered Capt. Pawanexh Kohli, Principal Advisor CrossTree who also doubles as the Chief Advisor to National Centre for Cold-chain Development, a government body under the Ministry of Agriculture that is mandated to usher in the change to our cold chain. It was on the behest of this nodal body that I was visiting the North East on a study tour.

“It is a process that can be wasteful but if it exists then those who fulfill it cannot be tainted the same. Someone has to hail the transport, someone has to aggregate the load, produce has to be graded and accounted for, then possibly packed branded and marketed too. A chain of activities which the producer or cultivator cannot do or is not capable to undertake. The maligned middle man exists because he is doing or facilitating this work and in this course may even take a business risk. Look at ordinary logistics, the middle men there are the freight forwarders, the ship brokers and the customs agent! Some fulfill a physical activity, some facilitate the trade, but each exists because there is a need for that function.” This was the longest I had heard Capt Pawanexh Kohli speak on what we disparagingly call a ‘middle man’.

”What we need is to change the process, the route, increase competition, enable reach into other markets. Soon you will find that these market forces will perforce lead all these middle functions to get consolidated. Such consolidation will bring greater ownership and reduce the chain of custody. Which will mean better handling, lesser wastage, more value, improved quality. You will then just call the middle-man by another name, usually the function name”.

He continued to say that true, more the number of independent functionaries, more the profit skimming which is the very reason shipping companies have begun to reach out to their customers in an attempt to take on the responsibility of freight forwarding and thus trapping some of that profit component for themselves. “Are the producers ready to take on the middle man’s role? And if not, then why? Understanding this and then enabling them to do so or to partner with these arrangers-of-supply-chain is how we will create value for them”, said Kohli.

He got me thinking, what if the entire lot of orange ends up as surplus stock because another region had a bumper yield too, what if it turns out diseased? Nobody will touch it. What if the truck carrying farm fresh items gets delayed or meets an accident en route? Yes, there were a lot of imponderables to contend with. For taking that risk, these off-farmgate associates obviously add their margins. So, when someone argues that these middlemen milk farmers it has to be taken with a pinch of salt.

You can eliminate the so called middle man, but not their middle function. Someone has to play that facilitating role. In the publishing world, for example, with which am familiar, proof readers no longer exist. Editorial page makeup artists are extinct. Multi-tasking has become the norm. Sub-editors and news desk manage pages. Put it differently, pages are made as in the past and proofing is done as in the past. Those functions exist, but not those who executed in the past. Others have taken charge of that vital role. Competition made that happen, brought about role optimization but those functions do remain!

As I trawl through Arunachal Pradesh trying to figure out how to help growers of fruits and vegetables to market their produce and sense the role of ‘Karimganj gang’ – as I have to come call them derisively – the role of middle men is on top of my mind. Farmgate interactions do provide insight that growers’ disenchantment with these Karimganj gang and their inability to do marketing on their own. Will someone replace these sharks? is a constant refrain.

 

“One request. Don’t throw these middlemen. They are playing a very important role of helping us push our fruit out of our farmgates,” tells Pabu Tayang, 75-year old ex-Fauji who had seen action in 1962 India-China war and an owner of 1,000 orange trees spread over 4 hectares. He verily echoed what I heard earlier from Pawanexh Kohli. “Yes, they are necessary evil,” adds his 50 plus nephew Tanyo  Jerang at Tekong village near Pasighat on a November evening.

“We’ve arrived,” says someone. I come out of my reverie and notice Meto stepping out of Maruti Gypsy and walking towards the bunch of Karimganj gang in action at his Balali bagan, plucking oranges from trees.

“Would you like to try?” asks Meto, the man who has lost out a huge sum a few hours ago to the Karimganj gang.

I nod and would like to climb the wooden ladder and try my hands at plucking oranges. Lifetime opportunity, yes. I begin to walk behind him.

On Road in North East India-9

 

Urban sensibilities sometime cause ripples unnecessarily and disturb the equilibrium in rural settings. I committed that faux pas last month while travelling through the virgin landscape of Arunachal Pradesh, on the Indo-China, Indo-Bhutan and Indo-Myanmar border state in the north east. Yes, I am a Sinner – with capital ‘S’.

That also brought back memories of my Class 7 English teacher Madame Annapurni explaining “what’s good for goose is not good for gander” in the southern state capital of Madras (now known as Chennai) way back in 1960s.

“Wow!” I said no sooner did the motorized boat with our Tata Sumo vehicle move out of the banks of river Lohit  en route to Roing from Tezu in Arunachal Pradesh mid-November.

The flowing icy water under the boat was crystal clear. I just could not control my joy on this boat ride. My palms quietly dipped down to the water level to touch it.

My cup of joy was overflowing. Flowing river. Gurgling, icy water. Mountainous backdrop. Motorized boat. Vehicles on it. People also. Barring me, everyone of the dozen passengers on this boat were Arunachalis.

Once again, a ‘wow!’ emanated from me.

“What ‘wow!”,  I heard someone saying with a large dose of anger.

My blood froze.

What have I done?

Am in an alien land. Arunchal Pradesh? Alien land?

You will not understand till you travel into this north eastern state of India, bordering China, Myanmar and Bhutan.

Over the 21-day travel through this state, have not I been asked multiple times by many Arunachalis: “Are you from India?”

Am I in a foreign land or in my own country of which Arunachal Pradesh is part and parcel of the Republic of India – like any other state: Bihar, Uttar Pradesh, Karnataka, Gujarat etc? Was I not asked to procure an “Inner Line Permit” (ILP) to enter this state and also requested to specify districts (17 in all) which I wish to visit? These conditions are fully valid given the sensitive location of this state on the India-China border.

Quickly I looked up and saw this tall man standing next to me.

Sharp Mangoliad features. Clean shaven. A sweater casually slung over his neck. Sharp eyes. And a dagger in its swathe hanging around his hip, like any other Arunachali.

I was speechless because I felt something snapped in that gentleman to critique my “Wow!” comment on the beautiful ride.

“You must be from some Indian city. Right?” he said matter of factly in Hindi.

I quietly nodded.

“For you cityfolk, rivers, mountains, boat rides are entertainment…” he remarked.

I remained silent trying to figure out what he is upto.

All eyes were on me.

“Have you ever thought about our lives? Daily we have to ride in boats, riverbeds and wooden makeshift bridges because we have no pucca roads. Not like you. Life becomes difficult to do this kind of travel daily. You know, I am visiting my parents in Pasighat while work demands my presence in Roing,” the tall Arunachali went on and on.

I was feeling guilty already.

Born and brought up in Chennai and worked/lived in Bangalore, Mumbai and Delhi (and a few years in the Gulf), life was in concrete jungle and on motorized movement. Naturally, a bit of natural surrounding always is a joyful diversion. Am I not taking short vacations into the hills and sanctuaries with family once in a while for this specific purpose?

“My apologies if I offended your sentiments….” I said.

He smiled for the first time. Oh my God! I have been saved.

I introduced myself and he too.

Thirty five plus Tamiyo Tatak is an Assistant Sub Inspector in Arunachal Police.

Had there been a proper road, this journey from Roing to Pasighat (100 km approx) would have been a better option. Not that there is no road. NH 52 is very much there, coursing through the mountainous terrain but being made under the suzerainty of Border Roads Organisation (BRO).  Not only that route is circuitous (145 km) but will take longer – almost double the travel time of Tata Sumo ride in multimodal format: road, boat, road, boat, etc.

I could sympathise with Tatak. To say, roads as we understand, does not exist in Arunachal is no exaggeration. Connectivity between any two points within the largest north eastern state is a challenge. Every time I tried to move from point A to point B, I have to exit Arunachal, enter into the neighbouring state of Assam, travel a certain distance and then re-enter Arunachal from a different point. Mind you, every time you exit and enter, there are border checkposts and papers are checked thoroughly. The only time, I moved seamlessly without this tiresome Arunachal-Assam-Arunachal routine was the one bone-rattling ride from Pasighat to Aalo via Pangin on NH 229 – the much talked about Trans Arunachal  Highway at least in the state – which should be ready linking 17 district headquarters with one another over the next 5-6 years under the special Prime Minister’s Package.

For instance, a ride from Tezu to Wakro on NH 52 – again on treacherous mountainous stretch – would have consumed double or treble the time over the most popular Tata Sumo multimodal ride: ride on riverbed, boat ride along with your vehicle, again riverbed ride, boat ride again, and finally ride on non-existing road. For a city folk – like me – this kind of road-river-road combo is enchanting and thrilling. Because it is one off kind of travel, not a daily routine which Assistant Sub Inspector Tatak  has to learn to live with. How long, one does not know.

By the way, the Tata Sumo ride is expensive. An Arunachal State Transport bus service – yes, such a thing does exist – will cost you almost one-third of Tata Sumo experience. If you value time highly, you won’t opt for state bus. And, no boat ride on barges because they are too heavy to be accommodated on boats. Naturally, they have no option but to go on terra firma – however long that might be. Bear in mind, these state buses are not Volvo type, but basic government owned public service buses – like in any other state. And Tata Sumo service is point to point with breaks for breakfast/lunch in between. Any Tata Sumo trip will last for a minimum of 6-7 hours and the rattled bones and flesh needs some nourishment en route.

With the September 2012 floods causing massive damage to the already frail infrastructure like bridges that had collapsed and yet to be repaired, it  is like a wild life safari for outsiders. Not for locals.

 Even the ride to Tawang at 13,000 feet from sea level via Tezpur in Assam is not a cakewalk.  Maybe 10 hours or more it may consume, given the road conditions. But it is a ‘wow!’ experience, no doubt for cityfolks – like you and me.

Pardon me, Tamiyobhai!

Send your feedback to: supplychaindia@gmail.com

On Road In North East India-8

35 days travel covering 3,0 00 km plus in the lap of oranges, pineapple, kiwi, apple, ginger, turmeric, black pepper, large cardamom and enthuriam-growing Arunachal Pradesh in multi-modal format.

Heard of Tezu? Roing? Passighat? Pangin? Ziro? Sissen? Potin? Dirang? Rupa? Shergaon? Bomdila? Bleak chances. I can assert, almost zero recognition. No, they are not fictional towns  like R K Narayan’s “Malgudi”.

These names are real. And towns in Arunachal Pradesh. Maybe Bomdila is recognizable due to its proximity to Tawang, the globally renowned  tourist spot in Arunachal Pradesh on the Bhutanese-Chinese border. Even I was unaware of these places until a month ago.

The decision to explore north east is actually a reaction to the acerbic comment from a senior bureaucrat in Delhi who expressed disappointment sometime back that my book, 10,000 KM on Indian Highways has no mention  of roads or highways in northeast consisting of seven sisters viz., Assam, Meghalaya, Tripura, Mizoram, Manipur, Nagaland and Arunachal Pradesh. 

The main character in Paul Coelho’s celebrated work, Alchemist, claims that never stop dreaming. Actually, it will happen because unknown external forces will help you realize those dreams. Yes, I kept dreaming about travelling in north east because I had never crossed Kolkota in the east. I had worked with several colleagues from northeast. The only challenge was to look for an opportunity to visit which was not happening.

Out of the blue, I get inducted as Member of the newly constituted National Committee on Supply Chain and Logistics under the Ministry of Agriculture with the focus on studying the prevailing post-harvest marketing infrastructure across India and suggest measures to improve farmers’ marketing pangs. And, I suggested exploring the north eastern states to begin with and the rest, as they say, is history.

When I sat down to draw the itinerary with Google, a 30-day, 7-state whirlwind tour of four days each for each state emerged and I was happy. But it turned out to be a damp squib because I believed in the existence of normal road infrastructure in the north east. Due to some other planning glitches, my plan got derailed in the sense that I could not realize what I dreamt about. Instead of traversing through seven states, I managed to do just one state viz., Arunachal Pradesh over a period of 20 days after the first 10 days in Assam.

Well, the travel through Assam – from Guwahati to Tinsukia via National Highway 37 – was in a truck carrying Hyundai cars to its dealer over three days. Approximately 580 km, the trip consumed. Never ever seen such a green-layered landscape: tea gardens and fields most of the time. Very little industrial activity was noticed. More about the NH37 experience in another dispatch. Now back to Arunachal Pradesh.

Arunachal Pradesh visit became the only choice for two reasons: one, getting an Inner Line Permit (ILP), introduced by the British to protect the innocent tribes of north east frontier from people from the plains, was easy, thanks to the good offices of Mr Narang Tani, Deputy Director (Marketing) in the Government of Arunachal Pradesh, compared to procuring ILP from Manipur, Mizoram and Nagaland. There is no need for ILP to travel in Meghalaya and Tripura and Assam. Secondly, having moved to the eastern most part of Assam viz., Tinsukia, crossing into Arunachal Pradesh made more sense than returning to Guwahati for a detour to Meghalaya and Tripura.

Interacting with Assamese friends in Tinsukia, revealed that Tezu is the nearest Arunachal Pradesh town in Lohit district. Then I began looking for a transporter who can accommodate me in a truck. It did not materialize. What is the next alternative route? It has to be in Tata Sumo/Tata Winger or Arunachal Pradesh State Transport buses. “If you are looking for quicker travel, take Tata Winger,” said someone. Bus will take a long circuitous route via Parashuram Kund and the journey time will be over 12 hours whereas Tata Sumo ride will be half of that. Why? “Don’t you know, Arunachal does not have good roads? Tata Sumo cuts short travel time by crossing the Mighty Brahmaputra (or known as Mighty Siang river in Arunachal Pradesh) in barge,” clarified a booking agent outside Tinsukia bus stand. Wow, multimodal! I opted for Tata Sumo obviously.

It was again NH 37 towards east for an hour or so in the packed Tata Winger. Then you take a right turn at the railway crossing closer to Rupai Siding Railway Station. Between Tinsukia and this siding, NH 37 was two lane and narrow with several towns at frequent intervals including Doom Dooma, famous for its tea gardens. Once, I moved onto NH 52, a highway maintained by Border Road Organisation (a creation of government of India post-India-China 1962 war, the ride was incredible. Well maintained and cared for truly. Crossing into Arunachal Pradesh happened at Dhirak crossing with the Indian Army checking vehicle papers. Nobody asked for my ILP at Dhirak! My tension was unwarranted, I felt. But every other place, ILP was asked for at border crossing,as I stood out as an odd man out in the midst of Arunachalis with Mangoliad features.

Till Namsai T junction, the ride was superb. Then the nightmare began. BRO is relaying or building a new road. It was like moving on a motorized rocking chair. “A lady in labour will deliver within a few minutes of travel on this stretch,” is how a fellow passenger put it. Spot on. You drove for 2 hours in such condition and am sure the wear and tear of the vehicle would be phenomenal warranting regular overhauling. The September 2012 floods was believed to be the cause for such utter damage to whatever little Arunachal Pradesh could have been proud of. Broken bridges – there were many over streams and rivulets – meant, drive down onto the dry river bed and the climb up to move on the non-existent road. Yes, it was NH 52! Of course, repair work is in progress.

But the risk of taking Tata Winger route instead of State Transport bus was rewarding and exhilarating. Otherwise I would have missed the spectacle of driving on the river beds and watching the setting down of Sun on the Mighty Lohit River and crossing in a barge with three Tata Sumos as my travelling companion! Well, this was not the only time for river-crossing in motorized and non-motorized barges. Over the next three weeks, I did cross the great river multiple times as part of my multimodal passage through Arunachal Pradesh.

It was a wise move I realized later. Commissioner Hage Kojeen (IAS) at Ita Nagar, Arunachal Pradesh’s capital, remarked as I was about to take leave of him before leaving Bomdila, 300 km away for my last three days halt for interaction with kiwi and apple growers at 8000 feet above sea level there: “When I got a call in October end saying that you’re coming to Northeast and plans to travel in trucks in Arunachal Pradesh, I wondered what kind of joke is this. How can someone travel in a truck in our state where roads or highways are yet to come up!”

My philosophy is simple: if it is there, experience it. If it is not there also, experience the absence of it!

The writer is the author of 10,000 KM on Indian Highways and Member, National Committee on Supply Chain & Logistics, Government of India. His second book,  Naked Banana! -  a compilation of his recent writings, is out now.