WORTH FIGHTING FOR

Gurwinder Singh volunteers in the security team at Singhu tractor-trolley township. It is almost two months since he left his home in Tarn Taran to come join the morcha.

As he prepared to depart from his home, his wife handed him his aadhar card.

‘I won’t need this,’ he said.

‘Please take it and keep it with you all the time,’ she said.

‘Why?’ he asked.

Holding back her tears she said, ‘In case the morcha requires your sacrifice, they will know the address where to send your body.’

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It’s like in the great stories Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were, and sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy. How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened. But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. Because they were holding on to something.

What are we holding on to, Sam?

That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.

(HUMANS OF FARMERS MOVEMENT SERIES#10)

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MAKING OF A HEIRLOOM

Charan Singh is 70. He travelled on Kisaan Express, his bicycle, a non-stop service from Tanda to Delhi, a journey of 400kms bearing a message – all journeys will end, if farmer is finished.

His friends are taking him around Singhu tractor-trolley township, on what appears to be a lap of honor. Surinder Singh, 70, was an educator. He says, ‘Tell the youth if Charan Singh can reach here on cycle, they should be able to reach here on tractors.’ It is 19^th Dec – within a few days, youngsters would have more than fulfilled his wish, with Singhu’s strength increasing manifold.

I ask Charan Singh if he will participate in the rally on his cycle. ‘I will be getting a tractor here with my life savings. Dedicated to the movement and the tractor rally. Going to book it today, arrangements have been done.’

For someone who is 70 and has pedaled 400kms, he doesn’t look or sound tired – there is a silent determination in his being.

Surinder Singh adds, ‘He has decided that this cycle and the tractor will not be used again once we are back. These will not be sold but kept in the family in the memory of the morcha.’

All four of them are looking into future and in this moment see it as well – and find themselves alive in this proud heirloom for generations.

‘Will you be driving the tractor?’ I ask Charan Singh.

‘Yes, of course.’

I already know who all will be accompanying him on the tractor in the rally. Looking at the tractor riders the words escape me - ‘Then the victory is guaranteed.’

Surinder Singh ji says, ‘If willpower is strong, then we can win all battles.’ He takes a short pause and then asks me, ‘You agree with the words?’ 

I could not agree more.

HUMANS OF FARMERS MOVEMENT SERIES#9

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PURPOSE OF LIFE

‘Marne ke liye bahut acha mausam hai.’ Camping with farmers for two months at Singhu tractor-trolley township brings the krantikari poet out of everyone. But these words don’t belong to any ordinary krantikari.

Dr Ashok Sharma, Senior Medical Officer with Rajasthan govt, a gentle, kindly, almost divine soul, has a special place in his heart for his patients. And the patients reciprocate the relation, to the point that last two attempts to transfer him had led to protests by locals and his transfer was stopped. Since the Covid lockdown he handled 29000 patients till end of November, without a break and without a leave day.

As he was getting ready for a small break, he heard of the farmers protests and their camps at the borders of Delhi. Something tugged at his heart. He applied for a week’s leave – Dec 9 to Dec 15. The leave was denied by his superiors. But that tug at his heart became a strong pull - he submitted his retirement, VRS, papers.

He got the seats of his van removed, threw in a mattress, and his mobile camp-clinic was ready. Few friends contributed and 1lac was raised for buying medicine. Kuldeep Singh, a young medical attendant/driver joined, and they were on their way from Udaipur early morning December 9. That evening they parked the van at this stop, deep inside Singhu tractor-trolley township, after a journey of 744km and the tyres have not moved since.

He sees 40-50 patients every day. And his patients, the farmers, have adopted him as one of their own. It is like his transfer story – there is no way they are letting ‘Doctor Sahab’ go to Rajasthan without first showing him Punjab.

When a news channel reported about him not getting leave, Rahul Gandhi intervened, and Rajasthan government approved his one week leave. Now they call him every week asking for his return date. They have not accepted his VRS yet.

There is a rush around his van in the evenings. Cough, cold, back pains, loose motions, BP and sleep problems are the common concerns. An elderly walks up and asks if he has cream for mosquitoes. Dr Sharma doesn’t keep it in his stock, but without a second thought he digs under the seat and takes out odomos from his personal kit and hands over. When there are no patients, he reads Gandhi.

‘When I planned to come here, I didn’t know it would be this important for me. I feel it is as if all my life was preparation for something. Now I know. Being here was the purpose of my life.’

HUMANS OF FARMERS MOVEMENT SERIES#8

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GHADRI BAABE

Tau Chandar is 82. He joined police in Delhi after independence. Pointing towards the highway and the buildings all around he says, ‘ehan kuch na tha tab.’

One day ‘daroga’ of his police station took two hundred rupees bribe from someone to get rid of a relative. Tau was close by and as the conversation proceeded Tau felt ashamed and angry at the uniform. When the daroga pocketed the money and agreed to do the needful Tau couldn’t take it anymore. Tau tells me he was strong in those days. He got hold of the daroga and thrashed him there and then. Daroga threatened him that he will get him transferred. Tau resigned the same day. As he left the police station, he told the daroga, ‘lele apni naukri chutad mein.’ As Tau remembers his parting shot at the corrupt system, there is youth and pride in his voice and a million watt smile on his face.

He is happy now, having worked his fields for decades, surrounded by children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.

Why is he here? ‘Gandi sarkaar laayi hai. Do mahine se baithe hain.’

What will happen next? ‘Ghadar hoga.’

HUMANS OF FARMERS MOVEMENT SERIES#7

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A LANGAR FOR THE REPUBLIC

As I walk towards the main stage at Singhu tractor trolley township, I stop at Sarhali Sahab langar for my daily cup of badam-akharot milk they serve whole day. To my right washing machines and volunteers manning them are busy serving a langar of washed clothes, busy keeping the clothes of the morcha clean and it’s spirits high. There are over 300 langars in the first ten kilometres of this township, that extends beyond twenty today.

On the other side of the narrow path where the morcha walks, volunteers have set up cloth ironing langar. I notice the tricolor being carefully ironed, to be worn as the morcha’s izzat, to be held high along with the heads making the morcha.

Chingari ko sholon mein badalna aasan hai,

Mushkil hai to chingari ko paida karna.

Board is set. Pieces are moving. We come at last, to the greatest 26th January of our lives. To the greatest langar for the republic. Come join it, be part of it. If not in body, then in spirit. Cheer for it, pray for it.

#KisanEktaMorcha

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BLOOD. LEGACY.

The sword of revolution is sharpened on the whetstone of ideas. — Shaheed Bhagat Singh.

The daily meeting and sharing of ideas is on at Sanjhi Sath – a shared space, a village meeting place. First half of the day this little corner at Singhu tractor trolley township is a nursery - full of little children, from nearby shanties, playing, drawing, learning to read and write – a place where the seeds for ideas are planted. Every evening it turns a whetstone - for two hours farmers, volunteers, elderly, young, grown trees and young saplings, all shades gather here, ideas gather here, and the sword is sharpened.

Rajwant Kaur is sharing her story. A young and upcoming lyricist and singer, when she discussed her song ‘Bhagat Singh tera maqsad lokin bhulde jane ne’ ‘Bhagat Singh, masses are slowly forgetting your purpose,’ the music director told her that if she wants to become popular, she should sing on popular themes, revolutionaries and their ideas don’t sell anymore.

Today, sitting opposite young Rajwant, two meters away, is Gurjit Kaur Dhatt, 68years old niece of Shaheed Bhagat Singh. Rajwant begins to choke up. ‘We have grown up reading Bhagat Singh. But to meet his blood in person, as part of a revolution… ’ She starts crying. The words stop. The revolutionary fervor, the idea spreads. In its powerful silence, it takes in the gathering at Sanjhi Sath, it engulfs the tractor trolley township, and it reaches out to the nation.

After she has composed herself and after she had reassured the gathering and more so her own very self that she will keep her words true to her soul, on request of the gathering she sings for everyone. ‘Jaag ja Punjabiya, sambhal jimmevariyan.’

His legacy lives on. New legacies sprout from the seeds he planted.

The sword is still sharp.

HUMANS OF FARMERS MOVEMENT SERIES#6

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THE TOUCH OF PARAS

Parasdeep’s day job is home care of elderly and patients. Covid ensured he stopped getting called into homes. It was not a regular work anyways. Alongside he sells popcorn in the evenings. The setup is mobile – the roaster on wheels, fit behind his motorcycle - and he drives from village to village. His family doesn’t own any land. He isn’t a farmer. Yet he wanted to contribute to the farmer’s movement. Few friends helped collect 9500 rupees, and along with whatever materials he had at home he left for Singhu.

A few weeks around Lohri his sales are better. When his mother reminded him that he shouldn’t miss the festival sale period he promised her to be back in 3 days. 9500 rupees won’t last that long anyways.

Couple of social media channels covered his popcorn langar. The videos circulated around and reached his village. At the end of the third day, as he was getting ready to pack-up and return, he received a phone call from his village panchayat. They thanked him for showing them the way. And told him that a tractor-trolley from the village was on its way. He won’t need to shut down for the lack of funds. The popcorn langar will continue for as long as he would like to continue.

‘Then it will continue till the farmers are here.’ What about your promise to your mother to get back in three days? ‘She is very happy now. She said I can do sewa as long I need to.’

Two weeks after reaching here, he continues the sewa, as youngsters from his village join him and help. A few elderly from the village sit in the trolley, watching them with pride. It took a Paras’ touch to turn their youth into gold.

The roaster has run the cycle, the corn is ready, it puffs and expands and bursts out. Corn like masses. Masses like corn. All it takes is a touch of Paras.

HUMANS OF FARMERS MOVEMENT SERIES#5

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