New Delhi: Narendra Modi does not have a cordial relationship with those who disagree with him. Not too long ago, he called peaceful protestors ‘andolanjeevis’. He also called them ‘parjeevis’ (parasites) in the same breath. In Parliament, no less.
The ‘parjeevi’ slur, one might recall, was hurled at those who most certainly did not deserve it — farmers who feed the nation, and who were compelled to spend more than a year at Delhi’s borders protesting against farm bills that the Modi government ultimately had to rescind. The farmers didn’t mind being called ‘andolanjeevis’ but took strong exception to being labelled ‘parasites’.
Two and a half years later, they have now stopped expecting any kindness or fairness from the government in power. The Kisan Mahapanchayat organised by the Samyukt Kisan Morcha (SKM) at Delhi’s historical Ram Lila grounds on March 14 underscored that fact.
So, then, why protest?
As A.R. Sindhu from the Centre for Indian Trade Unions (CITU) that has joined hands with the SKM, explained, “We are not here to convince this government to mend its ways. We know it won’t. This government only listens to its corporate friends and is deaf and blind to the needs of the farmers and workers. We are here, instead, to send a clear and ringing message to the rest of the country that resistance against the BJP’s [Bharatiya Janata Party’s] ideology and policies is alive and well, and that we will not quit till we receive justice. We are here to wake people up!”
A sort of sadness, however, hung in the air at the well-attended event. But this was not the despondency of those who have given up and conceded defeat. This was the sadness of those who have been continually ignored, exploited, lied to, and vilified, but who have decided to continue to fight against great odds, anyway.
Mixed with the sadness was anger. If one might use the metaphor of the roadside chaiwallah’s tea, this was not the kind of fresh anger that suddenly sizzles and boils over, but the sort that has been simmering on a low flame for a long time, the kind that can scald, if the tea drinker is not careful.
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A former Border Security Force (BSF) personnel, M. Chaturvedi said, “I have served my country for 31 years with the Border Security Force. Today I am standing with our farmers. We are the children of farmers, and fathers and sons, both, are unhappy. The sons guarding the borders have lost their pensions and the promise of a stable life because of the Agniveer Yojana, and their fathers are unhappy because they are not getting fair price for their produce! How will the sons and daughters of farmers guarding the borders be happy when their parents are in distress?”
Similarly, Dr. Ashish Mital, general secretary of the All India Kisan Mazdoor Sabha (AIKMS) said, “This government has betrayed and cheated the farmers. With this mahapanchayat, we are once again reiterating our demands for MSP, loan waivers, and justice for those who were killed in Lakhimpur Khiri. There can be no real ‘development’ in the country till the very real issues of the farmers are addressed. We also want to send out the message that the farmers of the country are not divided, and we will continue to wage peaceful protest till we win.”
A farmer at the Mahapanchayat. Photo: Rohit Kumar
I have been to more democratic protests these past ten years than I can count, but there was something particularly heart-breaking about this particular gathering.
Perhaps it was the sight of thousands of elderly and visibly poor farmers in old and worn clothes who really should not have had to sit on the rocky, dusty, uneven ground of Ramlila Maidan. Or maybe it was the sight of elderly women farmers sitting in the sun holding their farmer union flags, listening to the speeches of their leaders, and sharing little potlis (bags) of food with each other.
Or perhaps it was the grim fact that, on an average, 154 farmers and daily wagers, very much like the ones present at Ramlila Maidan, die by suicide daily.
The approach roads to the ground are dotted with billboards and hoardings proclaiming “Modi ki guarantee [Modi’s gurantee]”. The sight of farmers walking beneath them seemed like a cruel joke. As an attending protestor put it wryly, “They used to call them jumlas, but then jumla became a bad word. Now they call them ‘guarantees’.”
Walking amongst the farmers, I wished I could have brought along a busload of high school students that I do workshops for, on topics like empathy and care. There’s nothing quite like a field trip to understand suffering and solidarity.
Another reason I would have liked to bring school students along was to give them an opportunity to learn directly from the farmers, many of whom are excellent teachers and have the gift of being able to explain complex things simply and clearly, as did Baljinder Singh Mann, a Bhartiya Kisan Union leader from the Terai region of Uttar Pradesh.
Holding a small packet of potato chips, he explained to me: “This packet of chips cost Rs 5. It contains barely 10 grams of potato wafers. The rest of the packet contains air. The farmer who grew the potatoes that the manufacturer used, was paid barely two to three rupees per kilo. The merchant made Rs 500 off that kilo of potatoes, but the farmer who worked for six months to grow that kilo of potatoes got only two or three rupees for his efforts.”
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“We want you consumers to understand that we are fighting YOUR battle! We are trying to ensure that the grains that feed you don’t go into the pockets of the corporates. As long as the crops and grains come to you from the house of the farmer, you will be able to afford them. The moment farming passes into the hands of the corporates, they will then charge whatever they want and your daily food will meet the same fate as this packet of chips,” he added.
I know the students would have enjoyed meeting Baljinder Mann and learning from him. But I also know that very few urban parents would have allowed their children to go on such an expedition, so insular and fearful have the last ten years made them. Very few high school teenagers are like Mallika, whose parents did not stop her from visiting the farmers at Ghazipur border regularly during the 2020-21 Delhi andolan (protests).
I met Mallika and her classmates — all class 12 students — at Ghazipur. They were holding up a poster that said:
‘Zulmi jab jab zulm karega satta ke galiyaaron se
Chappa chappa goonj uthega inquilab ke naaron se’
Roughly translated, “Whenever cruelty and oppression spill out of the corridors of powers, every corner of the land will echo with cries of revolution.”
The farmers’ ongoing struggle has certainly borne out the truth of those words.
Rohit Kumar is an educator, author, and independent journalist, and can be reached at letsempathize@gmail.com.
