A Day In The Life Of Women Protesters At Shambhu Border

January 13, 3 pm

It’s Lohri—the festival of harvest and bonfires; the day the farmer community is celebrated. But the mood is far from festive at Shambhu—a prominent toll point at t🦹he Haryana-Punjab border on National Highway-44 that has been closed since February 2024. Once a busy interstate passage, it has now been c𒅌onverted into a protest site for farmers.

Hunꦑdreds of trucks, tractors and trolleys—covered with blue, black and brown tarpaulin sheets—are parked on the highway. Some occupied and some locked, they double up as homes of protesting farmers—women and men, old and young—who have been coming to Shambhu from different districts of Punjab and Haryana for the past one year.

On the roadside, beside a dhaba, a langar is organised. Since it’s Lohri, meethe chawal, popcorn and peanuts are being offered. The topic of conversation revolves around the “big event” planned at 5 pm. Inside a tent near the langar, the women are making rotis and curry. The tandoor provides some wa♔rmth on a chilly January afternoon. Adjacent to the tent is a big tin shed—that’s the space provided to the women farmers at the protest site. Around 50 women—in the age group of 50-75—are sitting in groups on mattresses on the ground. Piles of blankets are seen in different corners. It’s warm inside the tin structure. One can only imagine the space turning into a furnace in summer.

Noon is the time when these women c🔴ome🙈 back “home” to rest—after attending the daily meetings organised from 11 am to 2 pm that are conducted by union leaders. Some are knitting sweaters for their grandchildren back home; the others are picking and sorting rice and millet in giant plates, or peeling kilos of peas from the pods. While the men help with preparing, cooking, serving meals and washing utensils, these duties are primarily taken up by the women.

They readily agree for interviews. “You could do some now and some after the 5 pm event,” suggests Raj Kaur, 60, a regular at Shambhu🌳, who has come from a village in Firozpur district. It took her one day to reach in an open tractor.

All the women in the room have something in common—wrinkled faces and white/salt and pepper hair. “Usually, hundreds of women🧸—young and old—are at Shambhu at any given point in time. But the young ones stayed back 🧸this time with children because of Lohri. Also, it is very cold. They will come here after we go back,” she says.

To keep up the momentum of the protest, the farmer unions have decided to rotate pr💜otestors on the basis of districts. “Most protestors present at Shambhu are from Firozpur. After 10 days, women from other districts will come. It will continue like that till our demands are met. We, after all, have a common mission. It’s a fight to the finish,” says Manjeet Kaur, 70.

In 2021, the central government, following a year-long protest, repealed the farm reform laws and committed to setting up a panel to find ways to ensure support prices for all produce. Farmers now accuse the government of turning around on that commitment. Their demands also include a legal guarantee of Minimum Support Price (MSP) for crops, debt waivers, pensions for farmers and farm labourers, no increase in electricity tariffs, withdrawal of police cases, justice for victims of the 2021 Lakhimpur Kheri violence and compensation for the ൲families of farmers who lost their lives during the 2020-21 protests.

“The government’s inaction and complete silence have angered the farmers. There are so many issues that need the urgent attention of the government; the main ones being the demand for MSP and loan waivers. All farmers are suffering, but the small farmers and the ones who don’t o🦋wn any laꦍnd, who are suffering the most,” says Raj Kaur.

Sitting next to her, Harwinder Kaur, initially hesitant to speak on camera, says she has an important point to make and would like to be interviewed. “What will you all eat if there are no farmers left? It’s not easy to be a farmer in this country. Our children are not interested in farming. Despite being graduates and post-graduates, they could not find jobs and hence many have left the country. In many villages, you wil🍸l find people like us, old people, who now don’t have the energy or resources to invest in farming but have no support system.”

She talked about how earlier there was no dearth of farm labourers who came from neighbouring states. “It’s not at all lucrative for them. So now they migrate to other states and do odd jobs. You must have seen the ‘No Farmer, No Food’ stickers on trucks and tractors parke🃏d outside. That is how important we are. The government should listen to us. We are angry and upset with our leadeဣrs for ignoring our demands,” she adds.

From migration, the discussion moves towards inflation and unfriendly government policies. While knitting a sweater, Rajwant Kaur, 60, talks about the dirty water they are forced to use in farms and th🎃e heavy debt burden on farmers. “Everything from gas cylinder to ration to medical facilities is expensive. It must be pinching you as well. Now think about us, or the small farmers,” she says. It’s time for the “big event”. The women hurriedly rush to the open ground outside.

5 pm: The “Big Event”

The scene outside has changed. Shambhu is suddenly buzzing with activity. Around 300 people, including many village pradhans and📖 farmer leaders, have gathered, along with other protesting farmers who have come from villages nearby. More flags are fluttering now. Piles of sheets—the new draft of agricultural policy—are kept on a table. Recently, the state government rejected the Draft National Policy Framework on Agriculture Marketing saying it was an attempt to bring back the contentious provisions of the three farm laws that were repealed in 202😼1, following a year-long stir by farmers. The plan was to burn the policy in the Lohri bonfire.

A group of men are assembling wood and cow dung cakes. The other men and women have circled the bonfire. Amid much sloganeering, the🐎 bonfire is lit and the sheets of paper are thrown into the yellow and orange flames.

The lack of media—national and local—is quite evident. “It does not matter. Our social media 💮reach is quite effective,” says Raj Kaur. “We are planning to organise a tractor rally on January 26. If we manage to reach Delhi, the media will have to shift its focus back on the protesting farmers,” she adds.

6 pm: Time to Retire

The sun has set. The temperature has dipped. Some people are sitting around the Lohri bonfire. Elsewhere, men have lit small bonfires and are sitting in groups and chatting. Women go back to their shed. “It gets very cold at night. We have limited resources. Back home, we have extra blankets and blowers and heaters. We can drink warm water and have an unlimited supply of hot water for bathing. There are lim🃏itations here. The washrooms for women, for instance, are some distance away. It’s not convenient to walk there at night but most of us are senior citizens so sometimes we have to,” says Harwinder Kaur.

Earlier in the Day

By 11 am, the protesting farmers head to the stage,🌸 erect⛎ed some distance away from the trucks and trolleys, to attend the meeting. From 11 am-2 pm, farmer union leaders address the crowd and apprise them of the status of the protests and the ill-effect of government policies.

After the meeting that day, the women walk out in groups. “We don’t know each other but we bond and end up becoming friends. We are each other’s support system. Looks like it’s goi𓆉ng to be a long fight, but we will continue to come here, no matter how long it takes,” says Manjeet Kaur.

“Assi jeetne aaye hai, assi jeet ke javange” (we are here to win and we wi🎐ll win) declares Rajwant Kaur.

Swati Subhedar at Shambhu border

(This appeared in the print as 'Frontliners')