COOPERATING WITH CIRCUMSTANCES

This article appeared originally in Mumbai Mirror, of the Times Of India group.

COOPERATIVE INC.



This unassuming women's cooperative supplies 70 odd food items in it's ten canteens, garnering a turnover of well over one and a half crores, finds RIshi Majumder





"My husband was off work because of an illness. In addition my daughter had an accident. I earned money for her treatment, and more…," remembers Vaishali Chinchankar, as she carries a Tokdi of Chewda into the kitchen. "I came here when my husband passed away. Now I'm funding my son's B. Comb," beams Manisha Manohar Shinde, cutting onions and chillies at expert pace, minus a single tear. "Why do I want to be here? Well, this is the closest I've gotten to home," comes from old white-haired Sushila Vasant Chauhan, frying a Puran Poli. And that's it, really. Money's what makes the 120 odd women working at one of the ten Kutumbsakhi Co-operative branches gather. But what makes them stay for over 20 years (which each of the women quoted above have!) is the fact that this is their turf. "Each 'worker' has from one to ten shares in the co-operative," emphasises Cooperative Chairman Vandana Navalkar. These denizens of the urban lower middle class were too uneducated for an office job and too respectable to be cooks or maids. "Here they form an organisation of equals," Navalkar wraps up. Appropriate. For Kutumbsakhi means 'Family Friend'.

The Co-operative was started after a survey taken by a Sociology professor among 500 families, prompting her to recognise the need for self-employment. "But it's grown from 4 workers with a Rs 3,000 turnover supplying Roti Bhaji to 120 workers with a turnover of rupees one crore and eighty five lakhs supplying over 70 items," smiles Navalkar as she checks the Besan Ka Laddoos piled up in her Charni Road Headquarters Office at S K Patil Garden. It's branches extending from Nariman Point to Dadar, the Cooperative prides itself on being canteens, rather than mere Dabbawaalis: "For snacks as well as other meals most of our clients come to us to eat. The only publicity we have is Mouth Publicity." Umm, that's word of mouth publicity for the uninitiated. And what of the clients of this Best Women's Industrial Organisation Award winner? "Working couples, the older generation who want authentic foodstuffs no-longer made, school and college students on the look-out for good cheap food, regular office staff…" Navalkar begins to list, adding that clientele depends on the area… but spans every middle-class prototype.

The reason for this cooperative's swift yet steady growth has been the topic for an award winning college project as well as a thesis written by a Frenchwoman. "We give good Khaana and smiling service Na…" dismisses Chinchankar when questioned. "We're women so we know secret recipes to every festival," jokes Navalkar. Then getting serious she says, "It's because of the cooperative share system… with the direct dividends they get from the profits, there's never been a strike. Also look at the various dishes they've come up with!" Then abruptly, she rolls out her list of anti government grudges simultaneously with her menu-card. "The government doesn't give us space, or we could have made so much more," she grumbles doling out Sakhi Chiwda. A Rawa Laddoo comes next with a "They shut down school canteens because one in Kerala caught fire. Does that mean school kids have stopped feeling hungry?" Before offering the Wadas, she points to the paper plate and plastic spoon it's served with: "And now they want to charge a VAT for this! I never thought of a plastic spoon as 'Service'. But if the Government charges us for it, we'll have to pass it on." And the good'll continue to come with the bad, we hope...