In Madhya Pradesh, a tribal woman’s death puts spotlight on unending urea queues

On Saturday, hundreds of Sahariya men, barefoot in the winter chill, carefully scooped the ashes into plastic sacks with their bare hands. A few marigold garlands rested on blue plastic plates. A spoonful of ghee was all the family could offer for the final rites. With no cremation ground in the locality, the tribe conducted her final rites in a mustard field that she once tilled with her hands.

Bhuri Bai’s death has got the ruling BJP scrambling for damage control. On Saturday morning, Union Minister Jyotiraditya Scindia, the MP from Guna constituency, visited her family, offering condolences and pulling up the local administration. Scindia was in the constituency, announcing infrastructure projects, when she died.

The Sahariya are on the list of India’s 75 Particularly Vulnerable Tribal Groups (PVTG). They live on the margins — in the forests and villages of Madhya Pradesh and Rajasthan. They have among the lowest literacy rates in India and among the highest rates of malnutrition. The PVTG tribes have been a focus of the BJP, which hopes to improve their socioeconomic situation by introducing big-ticket schemes to help pull them out of poverty.

Jyotiraditya Scindia cracks down on local officials over death of tribal woman.

Scindia has provided Rs 2 lakh from the Chief Minister’s Relief Fund to the family and ordered the suspension of a clerk for misbehaving with Bhuri Bai’s family regarding the issuance of a death certificate. He also conducted surprise inspections, ordered the expansion of counters at distribution centres, and sought an increase in the allocation of urea bags to each farmer.

“Scindia ji said we are his family and apologised for the death,” said Gajraj Sahariya, Bhuri Bai’s husband.

“She went with my son and daughter for three days. If you leave the line even once, your chance is gone for days. This is how it works now. If you don’t stand in the queue, you don’t get fertiliser. If you don’t get fertiliser, the crop fails,” he said.

Gajraj was unable to accompany his wife since his tuberculosis diagnosis around three months ago has anchored him at home.

On the night of November 26, Bhuri Bai, a member of the Sahariya tribe, died while standing in a queue for urea, where the wait was as long as 16 hours.

The family’s 40 bigha of land needs at least 40 urea bags weighing 45 kilograms each to cultivate their wheat crop.

For three consecutive nights, Bhuri Bai rode pillion on the motorcycle to the Bagri distribution centre 15 kilometres away, stood in a queue, and came home empty-handed.

“The second day, we finally reached near the counter and decided nobody would move,” said Manoj Sahariya, 30, their son. His voice broke as he relived the moment: “Around 11:30 pm, the cold became too much. She started shivering, then vomited blood. She died at a hospital in Guna; the doctors could not do much.”

“There is no shamshan bhoomi (cremation ground) here,” Gajraj said. “We had to clear a patch in the mustard crop itself to cremate her. Neighbours donated firewood; otherwise, we would have fallen into debt just to burn the body. The rites that followed cost Rs 25,000. We think at least Rs 2 lakh would be needed for the upcoming ceremonies; we are already Rs 1 lakh in debt. This is all because of the poor government arrangements at the centres,” Gajraj said.

People queue up to get urea in Guna. (Express photo by Anand Mohan)

At the distribution centres

At Bagri, one is witness to a chaotic sea of tractors, motorcycles, and people crowded before three fertiliser distribution centres. Seven exhausted staff members stand behind a small counter, fatigue written on their faces. Policemen with lathis try to push the crowd back, their efforts increasingly futile.

Vishal, the main distribution agent, has sweat dripping from his forehead, though the night is cold. By 3 pm that day, he had already given urea to 177 farmers. The queue shows no sign of ending.

A farmer, Arvind, forgot his token at home. He shows it on his phone screen. “Stand in line again,” they tell him. He slams the phone on the counter: “Four hours I’m standing hungry. Bhaiya, please, I’m a poor farmer, I’ll die here.”

The women’s queue is separate but worse. Dozens of frail Sahariya women, shawls pulled tight around their thin shoulders, have been standing since 4 am. It is 3 pm now, and they are not sure if they will get their stock today.

Vimla Bai and Saroj Bai have been standing in the queue since 4 am, and their voices are barely above a whisper: “We haven’t eaten roti or had water. Token hi nahi diya.”

Munni Bai from Akoda village has feet so swollen that she can barely stand. “There is so much confusion over the procedure. I stood for 12 hours to find out my token won’t be accepted because it’s for December 3. There are no officials explaining these rules to us.”

Kapuri, a new widow with three young daughters waiting at home, needs just 10 sacks of urea. Just two days ago, she lost consciousness in the crowd.

Netram, a distribution agent, explained helplessly, “First, we gave tokens only to those with land papers. Now we are doing it based on Aadhaar. Most don’t have khasra documents, nothing. Still, they stand the whole night.”

People queue up to get urea in Guna. (Express photo by Anand Mohan)

The big picture

India’s urea consumption is set to reach 40 million tonnes in the current fiscal year, driven by surplus monsoon-induced demand and the nitrogenous fertiliser’s maximum retail price remaining unchanged for over a decade. The sales of the country’s most-used fertiliser hit an all-time high of 38.8 million tonnes in 2024-25.

This year, India had a good southwest monsoon, which filled reservoirs as groundwater tables recharged, prompting farmers to plant with renewed vigour.

Madhya Pradesh government officials said the demand for fertilisers is projected to rise sharply this rabi season (October–May) owing to higher water storage levels.

Earlier this year, when violence broke out at distribution centres in MP over a shortage of fertilisers, officials attributed the crisis to black marketing, low domestic production, and reduced imports from China – factors that created a demand-supply mismatch amid increased sowing of paddy and maize.

At the time, supply chains faltered at Primary Agricultural Credit Societies and cooperative centres due to slow rake deliveries, inadequate storage, and cross-district hoarding. Officials noted that “central allocations appeared sufficient on paper, but local mismanagement was preventing fertiliser from reaching where it was needed”.

The state government had ordered home deliveries, extra counters, surprise inspections, and crackdowns on black marketing, resulting in over 70 FIRs and over 100 license cancellations.

However, this time, the state government has claimed it has enough urea reserves.

Guna Collector Kishore Kanyal assured, “There is no shortage of urea. We had 500–600 metric tonnes (MT) coming in per day, which is now increased to 1,200 MT. Stock is 1,400 MT right now. Every day, 50 trucks are coming as opposed to 25 earlier.”

Kanyal explained the rush of farmers at the distribution centres, “There was unseasonal rain because of which the farmers decided to sow gehun (wheat) at this time and rushed, instead of waiting. They all went for the urea supply. The land under cultivation has also increased partially due to encroachment of forest land, as per forest department officials.”