Since the year 2000, 30th August has been officially reserved to celebrate National Small Industries Day. A commendable step, indeed, for in a country like India, where agriculture remains the bedrock of life, small industries are the very lifeblood of rural economies.
Especially in sectors linked to farming, food processing, storage, packaging, transportation, marketing, and exports, small and micro enterprises carry the seeds of transformative growth. Yet, rather than nurturing these, successive governments have been mesmerized by the mirage of massive industrial clusters: SEZs (Special Economic Zones), AEZs (Agro Export Zones), and other grandiose projects, while simultaneously pampering a handful of industrial giants, the Ambanis, Adanis, Tatas, and Birlas.
Today the irony stands stark: even the token gesture of celebrating Small Industries Day has been reduced to a near-forgotten formality. And should a young entrepreneur dare to dream of setting up a modest unit in his village, the real ordeal begins.
Numbers Tell a Story
Despite chronic neglect, the MSME sector contributes nearly 30% to India’s GDP and 43% to total exports, generating employment for over 110 million people. Countries like China and Vietnam boast even higher shares, reminding us that India stands at both a moment of opportunity and a crisis of intent.
Chhattisgarh, for instance, in its New Industrial Policy 2024–29, promises priority to food processing, wood-based industries, and renewable energy. Incentives like land allotment, subsidized power, interest rebates, and startup packages are proudly announced.
Years ago, governments even spoke of a “Single-Window Clearance” system for entrepreneurs. Today, it has mutated into what might better be called a “Seven-Window Marathon.”
And between policy rhetoric and ground reality lies a chasm wide enough to swallow a generation of rural dreamers.
Parable of the Acacia Farmers
As Kabir sang:
"You talk of what is written on paper; I speak of what I have seen with my own eyes.
I speak of untangling the knots, while you take pride in tightening them further."
Take the case of farmers from Bastar. For years, they have cultivated organic turmeric, yam, and medicinal crops under the shade of acacia plantations. The leaves enrich the soil with green manure; the roots fix nitrogen. Farmers even pledged to plant twice the number of trees they harvested.
Two decades ago, the Chhattisgarh government had clearly exempted acacia from felling and transit permits. Yet 25 years later, forest and revenue departments still refuse to loosen their grip. The reasons need no retelling; everyone knows why files gather dust until palms are greased.
Where Potential Meets Red Tape
If acacia wood were processed into briquettes for thermal power plants, which are mandated by central policy to use at least 5% biomass fuel, or by treatment and processing turned into furniture-grade timber, farmers could earn fair prices.
India, after all, imports timber worth Rs 35,000–40,000 crores annually. Wood-based industries could save foreign exchange and boost rural incomes. Perhaps this explains why the new policy classifies such units as “Priority Sector Industries.”
But reality unfolds differently.
Some farmers decided to set up a small processing unit near Jagdalpur. Land was available. Capital arranged. A project report prepared by the Chartered Accountant reached the bank.
The bank’s response?
“First, get the land use converted from agricultural to industrial use.”
And thus began the real epic, part tragedy, part farce.
Seven-Headed Hydra of Permissions
To secure this “diversion,” farmers needed NOCs (No Objection Certificates) from:
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The Gram Panchayat
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Electricity Department
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Town & Country Planning
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National Highways Authority
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Forest Department
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District Industries Centre
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Plus, the bank’s Letter of Intent for subsidies
Seven clearances, seven months, and the journey had barely begun. Each department insisted: “Get NOCs from the others first.” A classic chicken-and-egg riddle, enough to make any entrepreneur tear his hair in despair.
Ground-Level Realities
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Gram Panchayat: Here, factional village politics often reduces development to collateral damage. Fortunately, the farmers’ goodwill earned them a quick nod.
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Electricity Department: Famous for “loud shocks, slow work.” Three surveys in three months, tenders for transformers, and bureaucratic rituals slower than the descent of Ganga from heaven to earth.
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Forest Department: Even when no forests were involved, the file lay untouched for months, officials behaving like crocodiles one dare not antagonize if one must swim in their waters.
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National Highways Authority: Project site 15 km from the nearest highway, yet NOC mandatory. Officers here, drowning in grand projects, had no time for “petty” rural industries.
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Town & Country Planning: No town nearby, no town planned for decades. Yet, since “country” appears in its name, permission remained compulsory. Also, the most expensive department, feeding off bribes through every pore.
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Revenue Department: The final boss of this bureaucratic video game. Meeting the Collector is easier than meeting the Tehsildar; sighting the elusive Patwari rarer than spotting a snow leopard. Even bribes cannot guarantee speed here; delays are systemic, not accidental.
Abhimanyu’s Chakravyuh
Eight to ten months of running from pillar to post, and at the end, many small entrepreneurs simply give up. Some turn to real estate or journalism, others abandon their dreams entirely.
For a villager to arrange land, capital, and then break through this seven-headed bureaucratic hydra is nothing short of fighting Abhimanyu’s Chakravyuh from the Mahabharata, except here, not even Gandhiji’s blessings can unlock certain gates.
Meanwhile, big industrialists signing MoUs at glittering investor summits receive red-carpet treatment, free land, power subsidies, single-window clearances, and bureaucrats camping on-site to assist them. Small rural entrepreneurs? They get lost in the paperwork maze.
Inevitable Surrender
At last, the farmers abandoned their dream of becoming small industrialists, selling their hard-grown trees at throwaway prices.
With folded hands, we appeal to our sincere and humble Chief Minister, Vishnudev Sai: If farmers with decades of contribution to organic farming, rural livelihoods, and environmental conservation cannot, even in priority sectors, start a small unit without eight months of bureaucratic purgatory, what hope remains for any young rural entrepreneur?
And if “wood-based industries” are never to receive permissions, why flaunt them as “priority sectors” in policy documents at all?
Must industry in India remain the monopoly of Ambanis, Adanis, Tatas, and Birlas, with their legal battalions and political access, while village entrepreneurs run from one dusty office to another?
Unanswered Question
Gandhiji’s dream of village-based small and cottage industries lies buried beneath red tape and corruption. Even after paying “informal fees,” delays remain inevitable.
On this National Small Industries Day, we must ask, not the government alone, but ourselves too: Do we truly wish to nurture small entrepreneurs, or only pay lip service to the idea? Because until this question is answered honestly, India’s rural dreamers will remain trapped in Abhimanyu’s Chakravyuh, fighting battles they were never taught to win.
