Osman Şenkul
In ancient India, floods—which remain quite devastating to this day—would occasionally leave peasants without crops and, more importantly, without seeds for the next planting season; consequently, famine spread, and diseases and deaths increased due to food shortages. In ancient times, usury was widespread in India, and interest rates were very high. Loans taken out for seeds, agricultural tools or food were usually granted at interest rates of up to 100 per cent, to be repaid at harvest time. These high interest rates caused farmers to fall into a debt trap and become dependent on moneylenders. As seeds were a fundamental input for agricultural production, farmers would often take out seed loans to be repaid at harvest time. Since these loans were usually crop-based, moneylenders could demand very high interest rates during the period between sowing and harvesting. In India, the ‘second urbanisation’ that began in the 5th century BCE is also known as a period when usury became widespread and interest rates became a significant cost factor in agricultural production.
In particular, in India—much like Anatolia—where virtually every region is criss-crossed by networks of streams originating in the Himalayas, Karakoram, Hindu Kush, Ladakh and Aravalli mountains to the north and swelling into mighty rivers, there are thousands of villages built atop tumuli, just as in Anatolia. If the flood’s flow rate was not too high, the houses on the tumuli and the small fields surrounding them would be protected, and consequently, hunger and disease would stay away from those living there. However, floods with high flow rates would leave those living there starving and ravaged by disease.
Let us consider the events following a flood with a high flow rate in one of these tumulus settlements; in recent years, having chosen a tumulus they deemed suitable for protection against floods as their settlement area, they had experienced several flood surges in the homes and communal granary they had built together there, but none had been as severe or destructive as this one. Floodwaters had previously carried off a few household items or animals, but they had never suffered such heavy loss of life and property as on this occasion. When they heard the roar of the approaching flood, just as they had done before, everyone climbed the trees in the communal area to wait for the flood to pass.
First, the walls of their homes had collapsed, and then the sturdy walls of the huge granary had given way; all their possessions were being swept away before their very eyes. Whatever happened, it was when the last remaining wall of the granary finally collapsed; the thick wall had toppled onto the tree where Yashodha and her family had taken refuge, dragging the men, who were clinging to the lower branches, into the depths of the raging waters’ whirlpool. After the flood, the villagers gathered to devise a solution to avoid facing starvation and disease:
Atri and Bhsihma had come from their small village, established amidst fertile lands on a small tumulus in the western part of the Indus plain, to the market place in Harappa, accompanied by their neighbours Vibhandaka and her husband Dattatrey, their son Santanu, as well as Rishyasringa and his wife Mekala, their daughter Nanda, and Yashodha, who had lost her husband and two sons to the recent floodwaters.
“We shall borrow,” Atri interjected, “We shall explain the situation to the merchants and ask them to provide us with seed grain and grain, promising to pay them back at harvest time.”
Startled by the word ‘borrow’, Dattatrey said, ‘Borrow? Borrowing is death. How can we possibly borrow? By Shiva’s grace, do you know how much interest they demand, my dear friend? If we borrow, we might not even be able to feed ourselves to pay them back…’
Interrupting with, “Is there any other choice?”, Vibhandaka continued without beating about the bush: “We’re already hungry and have nothing to eat. While our oxen still have their strength, we’ll set off for Harappa without wasting a moment, and whichever merchant lends us money, we’ll take it and return. It’s already time to sow the seeds…!”
Vibhandaka said, “Undoubtedly, we need seeds, and we must find them. We are prepared to endure hardship, but ascetics—those recluses who have renounced the world’s pleasures, those of high esteem, those who have mastered their minds and senses, and those who know the sacred Mantras or display virtuous conduct—can never attain holiness without dedicating themselves to Brahma. Ascetics, like everyone else, must eat and be fed.”
Yashodha, who was suffering greatly, her eye sockets almost blackened with grief, also said: “May the Supreme Brahma, husband of the Goddess of Wealth, creator of all beings, controller of mental and intellectual faculties, protector of the worlds, creator of the earth, Andhaka, Vṛṣṇi and the guardian deity of the Śāttvata clan, the Supreme Brahma who protects and safeguards good people, have mercy on me,” she said. “We all need seeds and grain as soon as possible, and Brahma will illuminate our path to find them.”
Continuing his speech, he said, “Wise men, by purifying their minds through Samādhi, comprehend the true nature of the Individual Self and define it according to their own preferences. May Kṛishṇa, whom we constantly invoke, have mercy on us all. May the wise one Brahmā, who was present at the very beginning of the creation of the universe, help us,” said Bhishma, looking each person in the eye one by one, and suggested taking action, saying, “Now is not the time to stand here and mourn, but to set out and find seeds and grain.”
Waiting as if for her turn, Mekala, who had been waiting for Bhishma to finish speaking, said, “May Krishna, the best of those who impart knowledge, forgive me. May the Supreme Brahma, who pervades all, endow me with knowledge. I bow in reverence before the great sage Vyāsa, who wrote the Mahābhārata,” and then added, “I say we should all go to Harappa as soon as possible to obtain seeds and grain. Let us set out together tomorrow very soon.”
Rishyasringa began, “Right then, it seems everyone agrees on going to Harappa to buy seeds and grain; but what will we give in return? We have nothing to offer…” and thus laid bare the truth that had been lurking at the back of everyone’s mind but which no one had dared to voice.
The harsh reality Rishyasringa had laid bare had dispelled the mystical atmosphere; now, the prayer-like conversations had shifted focus to the concrete realities of life. “We’ll take out a loan,” Atri interjected: “We’ll go to the market in Harappa, explain the situation to the merchants there, and ask them to give us seeds and grain, promising to pay them back at harvest time.”
Startled by the word ‘borrow’, Dattatrey exclaimed, ‘Borrow? Borrowing is death. How can we possibly borrow? For Shiva’s sake, do you know how much interest they’ll demand, my dear friend? If we borrow, we might not even be able to feed ourselves in order to pay them back…’
Interrupting with, “Is there any other choice?”, Vibhandaka continued without beating about the bush: “We’re already hungry and have nothing to eat. While our oxen still have their strength, we’ll set off for Harappa without wasting a moment, and whichever merchant lends us money, we’ll take it and return. It’s already time to sow the seeds…!”
This conversation gradually turned into a debate and dragged on; during the discussions that lasted several days, the women argued in favour of setting off immediately to secure loans, seed grain, and grain, whilst the men dragged their feet, raising the danger of ‘heavy indebtedness’. In the men’s view, the debt they would take on would mean working the entire year in exchange for seeds and grain, yet gaining nothing in return—they would merely enrich the merchants, leaving them with not even enough seeds for the following year, forcing them to borrow again. Yet they had migrated to these lands, leaving their former home behind, precisely for this reason; they did not wish to beg these debt-merchants once more.
Finally, on the fifth day of the discussions, Vibhandaka brought the bitter truth to the fore, as if slapping it in everyone’s face: “You men have been here for days, in vain, offering no solution, merely spreading the fear of debt amongst us. But your fear of debt isn’t feeding anyone here; do you realise that the last meal we ate today was the lâpa made from the grains we gathered from the bushes and hollows after the flood; now we can only fill our bellies by going out to the fields to graze like our oxen; we don’t have a single grain of wheat or barley left to cook.
I don’t know about you, but we (the women) are setting off this evening; we’ll be in Harappa by early morning. If you like, you can stay here and wait for us…!”
Vibhandaka’s long tirade had put an end to the debate; the men rose to their feet before the women and began making preparations for the journey, whispering amongst themselves, “We’ll haggle; we won’t have to pay such high interest,” trying to find some justification in these consolatory remarks, yet speaking with great care so the women wouldn’t hear…
Yes, the men were right about the debt; however, “The ascetics, like everyone else, had to eat and feed themselves.” Vibhandaka’s speech, laying bare the harsh truth, explained everything clearly. Yes, taking on debt was a heavy burden; yet, going hungry was heavier still. In ancient India, grains were the most important medium of exchange and were also accepted as the standard for deferred payments. During this period, as was seen in many societies, seeds for sowing were borrowed to be repaid during the harvest season, and the generally accepted system stipulated that the borrowed seeds be repaid in double the amount.
As can be seen, some 2,500 years ago, it was women—driven above all by the instinct to survive and keep their children alive—who pioneered the practice of obtaining food seeds through borrowing ‘at high interest’, the sole solution to a famine risk entirely dependent on natural developments; and they paved the way for India, which today possesses the world’s vastest landmass and largest population, to reach its present state.
Looking back from those days to the present, it is impossible not to see that the same situation is unfolding in Turkey, where a large portion of the population lives on an income below the poverty line; particularly in these days when we are witnessing our third-place ranking in global food inflation climbing towards the top spot…
The modern origins of the interest rate system, which was based on ‘seed and produce’ in ancient India, lie in ‘central banks’. As with the Central Bank of the Republic of Turkey (CBRT), the fundamental objective of central banks in all countries is ‘to ensure price stability’. For this reason, the primary duty of central banks is to set and implement policy interest rates—which form the basis of market interest rates—in order to safeguard price stability and keep inflation under control. In other words, price stability is achieved by regulating the ‘supply-demand’ imbalance—the root cause of inflation—through interest rate policies.
Consequently, the way to halt the rise in inflation is not merely to curb demand, but also to boost production. However, in Turkey, the high-interest-rate policy, whilst primarily aimed at reducing inflation, is also slowing down investment by increasing borrowing costs.
In other words, as the cost of money rises due to high interest rates and demand is suppressed, firms’ financing costs also rise; consequently, investment is curtailed, production falls, and as supply will consequently decline, even demand at the basic necessity level will lead to rising prices and inflation. For this reason, central banks set interest rates at levels close to those at which they have brought inflation down through their monetary policies.
However, as interest rate policies in Turkey suppress supply more strictly than demand, they also make access to many essential goods—particularly food products—more difficult: In statements following the last two meetings of the CBRT Monetary Policy Committee on 12 March and 22 April, it was stated: “The Committee decided to keep the one-week repo auction rate, which is the policy rate, at 37 per cent. The Committee also decided to keep the Central Bank’s overnight lending rate at 40 per cent and the overnight borrowing rate at 35.5 per cent.” In short, despite the Turkish Statistical Institute (Turkstat) announcing that consumer inflation had ‘fallen to 30.87 per cent’, the CBRT continues to maintain the policy rate at 37 per cent and the overnight lending rate at 40 per cent. Even based on Turkstat’s measurements using a product basket whose contents have not been disclosed, inflation—which consistently exceeds targets—is seen to have surpassed twice the target according to data from trade unions and the Inflation Research Group (ENAG). Accordingly, the March consumer inflation rate, measured by Turkstat at 30.87 per cent, stands at 54.62 per cent in ENAG’s data. In this context, it appears that the CBRT bases its monetary policy on ENAG’s data rather than Turkstat’s, because, as is the case worldwide, the CBRT has kept its two key interest rates below the prevailing inflation rates.
Even according to Turksat’s February 2026 data, which stands at 36.44 per cent, Turkey has risen to third place globally in food inflation, behind Argentina and Iran—which is in the midst of a war—and continues to hold a clear lead among European and G20 countries. Consequently, Turkey leads the way in food inflation, pulling significantly ahead of its closest rival among Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) countries and in Europe. In both these categories, Turkey’s monthly food inflation rate alone exceeds the annual inflation rate of many countries.
Viewed from this perspective, one is reminded of the Indian women who, 25 centuries ago, pioneered the practice of obtaining food seeds—the sole solution to the risk of starvation—through borrowing ‘despite high interest rates’, driven above all by the instinct to survive and keep their children alive as mothers. Even in Turkey, which, according to TÜİK data, has the world’s highest food inflation, it would not be wrong to view it as certain that it will once again be mothers who put a stop to the growing cries of “hunger and malnutrition”, and we believe that the steps to be taken in this regard are not far off.