TIES OF PROFIT: Women in Atotapalli village (above) have taken a loan to start a community brick kiln; others in Mayurbhanj district earn their living at a rope-making unit

Some miracles are self-made. Stranded deep in Orissa's backwoods, Tapaswini Dhal's life was a bleak one and there was little hope of her seeing light in the years to come. With no electricity, her thatched home in Mayurbhanj descended into darkness every night and her husband's meagre earnings meant that her four children went hungry most of the time. Till the day she heard of women's self-help groups in the state and decided to join. Soon after, Dhal was able to set up a small rope-making unit. Over the months, the common fund to which she subscribed along with other women grew big enough for her to apply for a loan. The amount she wanted wasn't huge but it was sufficient for her to pay for a power connection at home. "We haven't become rich," says Dhal. "But the future looks brighter now."

Like Dhal, there are many other women leading anonymous lives in the remote regions of Orissa who are now daring to dream. Individually helpless, they have found strength in numbers by joining the self-help groups being set up under Mission Shakti, a statewide campaign launched last year by Chief Minister Naveen Patnaik. The object of Mission Shakti is to facilitate the empowerment of women. "It is as if a silent revolution is on," says Anu Garg of the state Government's Social Welfare Department, who heads the mission.

Garg should know best. Her phones ring constantly with officials at ground zero reporting heartening stories: a self-help group in Odapada of Dhenkanal pooled in money to get an orphan girl married, in Khurda a group of women overpowered a suspected rapist who had managed to give the police the slip, in Chatrapur crooked contractors found themselves laid off as women took to laying roads, in Koraput, alcoholic husbands had been served ultimatums, and so the stories grow.

WOMEN AT WORK: Confident participants at a district Sanchayika Sangh meeting

Although a full-fledged campaign to form self-groups began only last year, the idea is not entirely new. Years ago in a unique experiment, an innovative district collector at Ganjam, Santosh Satpathy, encouraged women in his district to save money. The women were initially reluctant because few realised the value of savings. But with constant prodding, Satpathy managed to build a common pool, even accommodating women who could spare only Re 1 a day. Thus began a movement. As the groups grew in size and number, the kitty too grew fatter. By the last count, there were over 8,000 groups in Ganjam with over one lakh members who could boast of a total savings of around Rs 5 crore.

Soon women began setting up their own businesses, such as brick kilns and units collecting and processing forest products. Some borrowed from the kitty while others approached banks for loans. With savings becoming a habit, loan defaults were a rarity and the size of the common fund remained healthy. The women discovered a new side to themselves. "They were able to get back their voices," says Sanjeev Mishra, the current collector of Ganjam.

Tales of the Ganjam women's success soon travelled to the neighbouring districts. The women of Atotapalli in Chatrapur too organised themselves into a group and set up a brick kiln. As profits trickled in, they began calling the shots. They recall how they stopped one of their husbands from going in for a second marriage. They even roped in the police to teach the man a lesson.

Impressed by the developments in Ganjam and Chatrapur, Patnaik decided to give the self-help programmes an official boost. To make matters easier, Satpathy was now serving in the chief minister's secretariat itself. Using Satpathy's expertise, Patnaik soon kicked off Mission Shakti. Unlike states like Tamil Nadu where the Government spends around Rs 200 crore a year on similar self-help groups, the Orissa Government only helps build up credit linkages of the groups with the banks. The banks are only too willing to lend. "With defaults as little as 2 per cent, our money is safe," explains Prasanna Kumar Behera of the National Bank for Agriculture and Rural Development.

While women in Orissa have unarguably benefited from the programme, there have been gains for local politicians too. It was just as well for the chief minister that his assembly constituency was in Ganjam district. The scheme can only have widened his support base. By focusing on the formation of one lakh self-help groups, he has ensured the rock-solid backing of two million women in the state. "The issue is not about reaping political dividends," insists Dharmendra Pradhan, a BJP MLA. "It is about improving lives and empowering women." Whatever the political motivation behind the scheme, the statewide campaign is bringing about unprecedented synergy among the women. In the one year that Mission Shakti has been at work, at least 29,000 additional self-help groups have sprung up over the state, from Nayagarh in coastal Orissa to Nowrangpur and Koraput districts deep in the tribal interiors. What's more, the women in these groups have managed to save Rs 6 crore so far, a fund from which they freely borrow and just as easily replenish.

Rita Roy, a sociologist with the Bhubaneswar-based Utkal University, says Orissa's women are finally beginning to forge an identity of their own. It's true in more ways than one. For years, the women of Panijia were little more than voiceless entities. But ever since they grouped themselves into the Bana Durga Sayang Sanchayaka Sangh-the groups are generally named after reigning deities-the men "comply with what we say", smiles Rukmini Deo, one of the region's pioneer women.

Although illiterate, Deo and other sangh members were clear that their children should be educated. So they went about planning a school in the village. While they provided the money for the structure, their men agreed to put it up free of cost. The school building at the centre of the village is a veritable landmark now. It not only stands as a tribute to the efforts of the women, but also holds the promise of a secure future for their children.

It's a heartening example for other women so far trapped in poverty and illiteracy, unable to rise out of it or dream of a better future for their children. With their rope units and brick kilns, these women are building the road to hope in Orissa.