— Devendra Kumar Budakoti
In an interactive session with students of a government intermediate college in the hills, one student asked me during the Q&A session, “Sir, will there be reverse migration in the future? ”My answer was simple: No.
Before he could ask why, I continued: “Think back to the time of COVID-19, when many individuals and families returned to their villages. Where are they now?” The reality is that most have gone back to their places of livelihood.
What does this indicate? It shows that the programs and projects initiated to support returnees were poorly designed, faced implementation challenges, and failed to meet people’s real needs.
Once individuals adapt to urban life—with its facilities, services, and lifestyle—it becomes both mentally and physically difficult to readjust to rural life, especially for the younger generation. For children growing up in cities, stories from parents and grandparents about village life often feel more like bedtime tales than lived experiences.
Those who spent their early years in the village may feel a deep sense of nostalgia, but for most others, returning is neither practical nor desirable.
So, what exactly is the vision behind reverse migration? That people will return to take up agriculture and allied activities?
Let’s examine the schemes introduced for those who returned during the pandemic. These programs focused on sectors like horticulture, dairy, animal husbandry, goat rearing, and poultry. However, land-based livelihoods had already become unsustainable years ago, as the land could no longer support the growing food and fodder demands of expanding families.
Pushing such schemes on returning families wasn’t appealing. For instance, cash crops like horticulture and spices require large-scale cultivation to be profitable. Without Chakbandi (land consolidation), this is nearly impossible.
In areas like goat rearing, poultry, and dairy, the lack of market linkages and supply chains remains a major barrier. Additionally, these sectors take time to generate income. Families, unable to wait or absorb losses, chose to return to their former lives and livelihoods.
We must also consider the socio-economic profile of those who returned during COVID-19. Many were from the unorganized sector, living in rented accommodations in cities. They had small children whose schooling wasn’t severely disrupted by the move. But women, accustomed to urban amenities, struggled to adjust to rural social settings, and children found it difficult to adapt to the new environment.
As a sociologist, I must point out that in the process of social change, there is no reverse gear. While a few cases of successful reverse migration exist, they are exceptions, not the rule.
I understand the emotional appeal and the nostalgia—sentiments I, too, share. But let’s face the facts. Even people living in nearby small towns rarely move back to their villages, let alone those settled in metropolitan cities or abroad.
At this juncture, the lyrics of Narendra Singh Negi’s song feel particularly apt:
“Mujhe Pahadi Pahadi mat boloji, me Dehradun wala hoon.”
It beautifully captures the shift in identity and belonging that many now experience.
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The writer is a sociologist and has been associated with the development sector for more than four decades.
