ERWIN FONSECA
PERNEM: Goa is filled with traditional occupations such as fishing, pottery, toddy tapping, and farming. Among these lies a very important yet declining trade—salt farming. Once a common sight, salt pans are now disappearing across the State. Few from the younger generation are willing to take up this backbreaking work, but Praveen Bagli from Agarwaddo, Chopdem, is a third-generation salt farmer keeping the flag flying high for this noble profession.
Local salt collected through salt farming has always been in demand. Today, only a few salt pans remain. Salt pans that once existed at Agarwaddo, Calangute, and near the Anjuna-Arpora boundary have all vanished. The only operational salt pans today are at Ribandar-Merces and Agarwaddo-Chopdem. Even in Agarwaddo, the number of salt pans has reduced from eight to five.
It is no easy task to raise and maintain these pans and collect salt. According to Praveen Bagli, a veteran in the field, the process begins in November after the monsoons have fully withdrawn, and salt is collected from January onwards. “It’s a tedious job to erect these salt pans after the monsoons. We begin our work in November and collect salt from January till May. The salt collected in April and May is actually the true salt—because the hotter the sun, the more salt we collect. On cloudy days, we get less salt, and if it rains during these months, we get black salt, which is used only for plants,” he explains.
Despite the availability of refined salt and modern pesticides, local salt remains in demand both for human consumption and as a natural solution to destroy white ants and improve soil fertility. “Especially between March and May, there is a huge rush to buy salt as people still follow the practice of stocking it for the monsoons, and use it on plants with the first showers of rain,” Bagli says.
Around 15 families in the entire Agarwaddo area are engaged in salt farming. Bagli owns about 50 salt pans, amounting to roughly 2.5 acres. “This land is not my own but taken on lease from a landlord. The unique feature of Agarwaddo is that you will find only locals involved in salt farming—no outside labour is used, and that’s why our salt stands out in the market,” he says.
Once the salt collection begins, the farmer must regularly attend to the salt pans. Bagli admits to working six hours daily in the pans, from 2 pm to 8 pm. The process requires care and patience—any misstep can result in mud contaminating the salt. “We collect salt in the evenings and keep it on the banks. The next morning, we pack it and take it for selling. In spite of all this hard work, we salt farmers are completely at the mercy of the weather. As much as this profession can be lucrative, it can also be loss-making if the weather plays truant—and that’s exactly what has been happening over the last 15 years. The weather has become completely unpredictable, and this is not good news for salt farming,” Bagli says.
Predicting a slow death for this traditional occupation, Bagli believes that without government support and with erratic weather conditions, no youth is willing to enter the profession. “At least if one works for a company, a salary is assured. But what if the weather plays spoilsport and untimely rains destroy your salt pans? There’s no government compensation available—so why will the youth want to join this profession?” he questions. He believes the government must introduce backup measures to support salt farmers in times of loss if the profession is to have any future.
Praveen, who says he is 52 years old, has been working in the salt pans since the age of 10—initially with his father, then with his late brother. Today, some well-wishers and friends work alongside him to keep the legacy alive.