Punjab: Green Revolution & Breadbasket of India

October 23, 2013 - Reflecting on Punjab

I find myself on a 28 hour train ride from New Delhi to Pune after a grueling 10 days of interviews and research in the northern western state of Punjab.  Punjab has been called the breadbasket of India, as it is only 1.5% of the geographical area of the country but produces about ½ - 2/3 of the staple food grains, rice and wheat, which go into food store to be distributed through the PDS (public distribution system of subsidized grains) and in times of food shortages.  According to one source, 84% of Punjab’s land is under cultivation (compared to only 42% in the rest of India) and only 4% consists of forest (mostly Eucalyptus plantations).  And although the small farmers of Punjab are providing food for the rest of India, close to 76% of these highly subsidized grains meant for poor families through PDS is diverted to the market (with 13% reaching above-poverty line families).  Punjab (along with the neighboring state of Haryana) is also known as the birthplace of the Green Revolution in India.  The Green Revolution refers to the period during the 1960s and 1970s when chemical pesticides and fertilizers were introduced (mainly by multinational corporations and the US), as well as new hybrid high yielding varieties (HYV) of seeds, improved irrigation, and agricultural machinery.    However, it is widely understood that while the Green Revolution led to a significant boost in production (transforming India from a net food importer to a food secure exporter), it has also wreaked havoc in the form of decreased soil fertility, soil erosion, increased contamination, water shortages, loss of biodiversity, and rampant health problems such as increased rates of cancer.  In addition, stagnating crop prices, rising production/input costs, and declining fertility render the average debt of Punjabi farmers at Rs 41,576 (~$700) compared to national average of Rs 12,585 ($200).  In fact, over the rough time period of 2001-2005, the price of inputs has gone up 72% for diesel, 27% for insecticides, and 12% for fertilizers; whereas the price of food grains has only increased 1.6%.  Increasing debt has led to farmers have to foreclose on their property and in extreme cases, incidents of farmer suicides.

Needless to say, I felt a deep impulse to go to Punjab to meet the farmers who are the face behind India’s food security and also the beneficiaries and victims of the Green Revolution.  Although it was only a short time (10 days from October 13-22, 2013), I felt  like my knowledge and experience were profoundly enriched.  I learned about the complexities of the relationship between the government and farmers.  For instance, the government is the primary buyer of grains from farmers (via commission agents and middle men?), as they provide minimum price support (MSP), which is a procurement price that acts as a sort of insurance policy for farmers – that is, even as the price of wheat and rice fluctuate on the market, farmers are always guaranteed at least X amount MSP from the government.  This gives little incentive for farmers to grow anything else, as there is no assured market.  Many farmers I spoke to seem like they might want to diversify their crops, but this is virtually impossible, generating some discontent and certainly harming local nutrition.

Despite the somewhat tragic nature of agriculture here and the paradox of prosperity and poverty, I’ve decided that I really like Punjab.  The state is mostly Sikh religion, which has been a little strange to get used to because many of the men wear turbans and have long beards.  The food here is divine (also most of the Indian Food in the U.S. is Punjabi) – I’ve been eating yogurt with almost every meal, delicious Punjabi sweets, buttered chapatti, cauliflower/potatoes/other vegetables cooked with Indian spices in a yummy turmeric colored gravy; my host family eats pickled garlic by the clove, which is tangy and sweet; we drink fresh milk and yogurt lassis – these are just a few reasons why I am in food heaven all the time.  And I am officially obsessed with Indian clothes and need to stop buying them – there are a cool type of pants that are originally from Punjab called “Patiala” pants (like Aladdin style balloon pants) and my host family bought me a pair today.  The family I am staying with mostly I founded through the WWOOF network (Worldwide opportunities on organic farms – for volunteering) – there is the father, Kawaljeet, who is the principal and founder of this private school SEABA (Society for Education and Awareness in Backward Areas) his wife who is an administrator at the school, and they have two kids (18 year old daughter in college and 14 year old son – both are national aerobics champions – who’d have thought?).  The father is very interested in organic agriculture and promoting it among his students, so he’s been able to help me connect with local farmers.  He understands my deep need to see everything: both organic and chemical; small and large farmers etc.  He also worked with a Dutch Filmmaker named Tom Deiters who produced a film called “Toxic Tears” about the farmer suicides in southern Punjab.  Tom and another German woman named Sara (who was doing a photography project with the residents of Chotian Village) spent significant amounts of time around Lehragaga in Sangrur District, which I believe helped me join the community here with little difficulty.

I believe that Kawaljeet deserves his own mini-biography.  He is an incredibly honest and hardworking man.  He told me how his father was essentially a child of the Green Revolution and due to its ill effects, his family lost the majority of their land.  Kawaljeet saw how modern chemical farming ravaged his family and he sold the reminder of the land and invested the money to found SEABA school.  He clearly cares for his students and is passionate about spreading knowledge of organic farming among Punjab’s youth.  I hadn’t realized it at the time, but Punjab really is an agricultural success story turned tragedy.  Punjab, which used to be known as the granary or breadbasket of India is now known as the cancer state.  They have a daily “cancer” train that runs to Rajasthan to ferry patients to treatment facilities.  Now more than ever, I understand how work like that of Kawaljeet is important.  Older farming generations in Punjab may be hopeless, as one person said to me, “they have always known abundance and could never imagine anything less,” rendering organic farming impossible statewide, yet in the youth lies hope for change.

Students at SEABA who research soil, water, and biopesticides for agriculture

Youth festival at a nearby college - women celebrating after winning their division in folk dancing

Punjabi/Sikh policemen enjoying the show

With the women of my homestay family, purchasing cloth to be made into garments by a local tailor

Famous Punjabi Jutti shoes, which my homestay insisted that I get, but alas, no room!

During my time here, I interviewed seven farmers (five who are practicing chemical farming, one who has always been natural, and one who is experimenting with organic), two school directors, a village Punchyat (local government) head, a prominent politician, a senior economist and PhD student at the Punjab Agricultural University in Ludhiana, and the farm manger and a trustee of Pingalwara organic farm/NGO in Amrtisar.  I was able to gather information about many topics, though the language barrier proved challenging at times.  With the help of my host, I did have students translating Punjabi for me, but it was still an arduous back and forth process and a lot was lost in translation with many misunderstandings.  I was able to further develop my research questions as I conducted interviews and read literature on different topics including the first and second Green Revolutions, models of agricultural development and solutions for the agrarian crisis in Punjab, and food security and government policy.

I was able to speak with two young girls who lost their fathers to debt-related farmer suicide.  Meet Sandeep, a striking 17-year-old girl whose father committed suicide a decade ago.  She says that she desperately wants to “go foreign” (the Punjabi way of saying move out of India to another country), to be in a place where girls have full freedom and where she can do anything she wants.  Her ultimate dream is to become a pilot, enchanted by the idea of flying around the world freely.  But her father’s suicide and her family’s loss of income is making it really difficult for her to school.  And meet Jaspreet, a twenty year old girl on full scholarship who wants to eventually advocate for women’s rights.  She lost both her uncle and father to suicide and helps researchers and activists gain access to the farmers in her village of Chotian.

My most memorable visit was incidentally my first interview in Punjab.  I spent time with a young farmer (30 years old) named Malwinder and his family.  He is growing on 7.5 acres with about 1.5-2 as chemical free/organic.  He is very progressive but has not yet been able to convert his entire farm to organic.  It’s a difficult transition, I am realizing more and more.  He told me stories of how his neighbors think he’s crazy for growing vegetables (when they just grow rice and wheat with government support).  They laugh at him when he rides his bicycle 11 km to the nearby town to sell at the market.  Even his own mother asks, “why are you doing this rubbish?” (referring to chemical free organic farming).  He doesn’t blame her though and realizes that she is merely a child of the Green Revolution.  I had a really long interview with him, I helped weed his garden, he showed me a combine harvester because it’s rice harvesting season (and I was even able to sit on it! It’s the biggest piece of agricultural machinery I’ve ever seen.  I know we have them in the U.S., but I haven’t actually seen them…).  In addition, he brought me to the local government school where met and talked with the principal and gave a brief presentation to about 100 students ages 7-16 about my research.  Inadvertently, I am working on my public speaking skills, because this is the second speech/presentation I’ve given to students in two days!  My first day in Punjab, the school director I am staying with insisted that I give a presentation to his students.  So in front of 300 high schoolers, grades 10-12, I spoke in English (no need to translate) about my travels, research goals, and interests.  They were really eager to ask questions afterwards and I was happy that I was able to convey my work and hopefully inspire them to set goals and follow their dreams.  Some of the questions they asked were really tough, which caught me off guard, but was also encouraging (e.g. one young girl asked: “how do we grow organic on 50 acres?” which is so relevant, since I am interested in exploring issues of scale; another girl (the daughter of a chemical farmer) said, “why would we grow organic when we can’t get the same yield?”). 

Sun rises over Punjabi fields

Local buffalo and dung cakes drying

My first time seeing a combined harvester

Absurd sight - a huge cargo load of fodder on the back of a truck

Weeding with the boys

Field of cotton

Bedding and fodder

Beautiful grandmother of one of my farming homestays

Village homestay

Ad for genetically modified BT Cotton

Inside my first Gurudwara (Sikh temple)

Where farmers bring their grain to trade to the government and commission agents/middle men

Riding the school bus with Sikh students :)

Another homestay

Punjab, where beds are made from local materials include DAP/artificial fertilizer sacks (depressing)

Jeeva Singh - a village celebrity for his organic farming

More cotton

This man loved getting his photo taken

Nomming on sugar cane with my translator Jaspreet!

Jeeva's family

Spraying chemicals on the fields

Interview with a retired teacher/farmer

Carrying dung cakes - these women have ridiculous strong necks/heads

Agriculture in Punjab feels paradoxical: prosperous and tragic.  Some farmers are producing huge yields (with the help of subsidies and chemicals), while others are stuck in a debt trap and resort to suicide.  The majority of Punjabi farmers feel that they MUST use chemical pesticides and fertilizers in order to generate enough production for a mediocre income.  They are working so hard and are not supported by the government and sometimes even their own family or community.  It is a struggle here and for the most part, organic is merely a dream.  They know about the ill-health effects of chemicals but are willing to take the risk for profit.  And I am deeply confused about the gender dynamic here.  My first three interviews portrayed women as lazy creatures confined to the domestic sphere, while only uncles and fathers worked in the field.  Jaspreet, who seems to do everything around the house including fetching the water from her cousin’s place where they have a purifier to sweeping the compound, said that women definitely participate in farm labor.  My readings have also reflected that women make up the majority of the agricultural workforce in India, performing menial and low-skill labor such as weeding, harvesting etc. and are not formally recognized.  Another important lesson is that there seems to be little knowledge of the connection between farming and climate change and almost no knowledge of what GMOs are, even though most farmers are planting BT Cotton, which to me is sinful.  I have also come to understand the inherent paradox to mechanization: on the one hand, it displaces labor and forces farmers off their land; on the other hand, it relieves farmers from arduous physical labor and thus has the potential to incentivize youth to come back to the land.  Thus agricultural technology has the potential to assist farmers if it is implemented appropriately, which is where the term “appropriate technology” comes in (simple, affordable, easy to use and maintain, small-scale and locally produced).  Again, the importance of farmers’ cooperatives has great potential to uplift marginal farmers.  Because most of them have less than 5 acres, they could pool their land and credit to qualify for loans, share inputs such as tractors and also labor, and go into marketing schemes together. 

Even though my stay was just a little more than a week, I feel like I’ve learned so much and that I am being challenged in all directions.  For better or worse, organic farming is not as simple as it seems.  Malwinder and Jeeva do not have the support of family, community or government.  They are like salmon swimming upstream to spawn – against all odds, trying their best.  Even just weeding for a couple of hours with Malwinder, I can see how it might be tempting for farmers (especially those that have many acres) to simply spray pesticides and herbicides on their fields instead of the backbreaking, monotonous labor that is weeding.  We sat in his garden weeding while his wife, mother, father, and cousins lazily milled about the family compound (something he totally disapproves of).  It must be so frustrating to have people around you that don’t care to help and think that your beliefs and practices are foolish.  Even I was getting annoyed as I realized how much better it is do this kind of labor in a group (especially comparing my experiences farming in Ladakh and Navdanya where there was such an emphasis on cooperation, shared labor, and mutual support).  I think that it is so easy to romanticize organic but it’s just not that easy – labor is expensive, making organic fertilizer and biopesticides is labor and time intensive, the government does not support it, and there are no assured markets.  So I am coming to many realizations here and also trying to push aside my inherent biases and preconceived notions. 

I’m also being challenged personally with learning about realities here such as arranged marriage, dowry (the bride’s parents have to pay the groom’s family thousands of dollars as a “gift” of sorts, basically remunerating them for the new “burden” they are taking on e.g. the daughter), the caste system etc.  I met a young girl, also 22, who is such a funny and sweet person, always cracking jokes, though they were a bit morbid (like “my mother is a bad person” and then would make funny faces and imitating her mother beating her).  She has a boyfriend, which is a total secret, but she is being forced into an arrange marriage next month.  She does not want to get married and is scared, which she admitted, but also maintains a cheerful disposition and makes light of the really intense issue.  Her family is being made to give 2 LAC (200,000 Rs or $3,333 USD) plus 1 LAC 15,000 Rs (~$2,000 USD) worth of furniture to the groom’s family.  The women I’ve spoke to here seem to vehemently disagree with the dowry system, as well as some of the more progressive men who don’t mind if they have daughters.  The girl told me that you are showered with gifts (“a prize”) when you give birth to a boy, but receive just shame when you birth a girl.  Essentially, I can’t imagine living in a society where girls are not wanted and are treated as a burden and the irony of the situation is that this mentality is most likely the reason I was put into an orphanage and adopted. 

And I’ve become somewhat of a celebrity around Lehragaga.  My photo has appeared in the local newspaper twice: once giving a presentation to SEABA school and another with this prominent politician who is planning on running for Chief Minister of Punjab.  

They had me sit next to him on stage while he gave a speech to the community and then they granted me admission into the special press conference where I could personally ask him questions.  This royal treatment is bizarre and doesn’t feel right.  It makes me feel guilty, especially because so many people here are poor.  I want to thank them for their hospitality and generosity but they refuse to take money and keep saying “it’s our pleasure, you are our guest.”  It’s really overwhelming.  And the questions – oh my goodness!  People want to know everything… Is there poverty in America?  What will the result of the government shutdown be on the American education system? How can you grow organic on big farms, 50 acres?  Why would farmers choose to grow organically if the yield and profit is much lower than chemical?  How can Indian students get scholarships to go to American universities?  Does America have the caste or dowry system?  What is agriculture like in the United States?  What country is better: America or India?  Is America a democracy or dictatorship?  Is America in China?  (I think there is confusion because I look Chinese but said I’m American)  What do you think of colonialism? 

And at one farmer’s house, the grandmother raised some thought provoking issues (translated by her granddaughter).  She asked if my family has any pets and when I said cats, she asked how people in America can value animals but just shoo away our blood relations (grandparents) into homes for old people instead of taking care of them as they traditionally do in India with the joint family system.  Especially because grandparents have put so much time and effort into raising their children, devoting their lives to them.  This is very true and made me sad, also making me want to build an in-law apartment for my own parents once I have my own home. 

Being in India has also made me begin to question the authenticity of my experience in Tanzania with respect to money.  In almost every interaction there, money was involved, whether it was Rogath driving me and me paying him petrol.  In retrospect, paying Helen $15 a day to house and feed me was absurdly expensive.  But being my first country, I didn’t really question it.  However in India, people give you so much and are sometimes in worse off states than those people I met in Africa.  Indians are constantly feeding you chai and the most delicious homecooked meals.  And they rarely will accept money or gifts.  Instead, they treat you like royalty, don’t let you help in the kitchen (always saying “take rest”), and even give you gifts (Sandeep gave me two pairs of earrings even though I insisted that I couldn’t take them).  The hospitality, warmth, and generosity here is overwhelming, amongst poverty.  I want to adequately express my gratitude, but saying “Danyavat” (thank you in Hindi) does not seem like enough.

The homestays I did in Sangrur District (with Kawaljeet’s family at SEABA, Jaspreet’s family in Chotian for two nights, one night at Malwinders, a night at Kamalpreet’s) really helped me get into Punjabi culture.  I was humbled sleeping “outside” in a simple cotton made from rope and metal.  The flies here are unbearable, mostly because the livestock (buffalos and cows) share the same living quarters as the people.  This place has two rooms, a veranda likes structure, with a few cots and a double bed, a small kitchen, a washroom/latrine, and the area where the animals stay.  In India, I am under the impression that beds are the communal space – people take their meals on the bed instead of a kitchen table.  At Kamal’s place, I shared a bed with her and her grandmother – the three of us squished into a double with Kamal kicking and putting her arms around me in the night.  The homes here are simple and really dirty by Western standards – people traipsing cow dung in and out, geckos running around the walls, little frogs hopping everywhere, mice, and who knows what else.  But each day, the entire house is swept clean, the “floors” (bricks outside) are washed, and we even sweep the road outside the gate.  I guess it’s all they can do to maintain some level of cleanliness in an environment that will never really be clean.  And at Jaspreet’s home, I have been able to assist with more things than anywhere else.  I think it is because it is just Jaspreet, her mother, and two brothers.  They don’t pay a servant to cook or clean, but do it themselves.  This has allowed me to practice making chapatti, pratah (like chapatti only made with maize flour and consists of bits of onion and cauliflower mixed into the dough, then ghee (oil from milk) is added to the skillet for a light fry), and the dessert Saviyan made with milk, noodles, sugar, almonds and raisins.  I helped sweep the compound and went with her to fetch water at the neighbors place.  It feels good to feel like I am helping, even if it is only a little bit – otherwise, I feel like I am seriously free riding off the families I stay with.

After a failed attempt to meet with a prominent policy analyst and agricultural scientist, Devinder Sharma, in the Punjabi city of Chandigarh, I took a five hour bus ride to Amritsar.  There, I met up with one of Kawaljeet’s friends.  This man was quite the character.  A 28-year-old journalist from a farming family, he has a small belly, wears glasses, has tousled hair when he doesn’t gel it back, and essentially, he resembles the nervous nutty professor type.  He was a bad driver and smoked many cigarettes, even though he claimed that he’s not a chain smoker, he only smokes when he drinks alcohol.  This was not true, but at one moment, he literally was drinking a beer behind the wheel, which was unnerving to say the least.  He brought me to the Golden Temple, to Pingalwara organic farm where he translated my interviews, and then arranged for my trip to Wagah Border to see the daily border closing ceremony with Pakistan.  Everything was late that day – I woke up too late, we took too much time at the Golden Temple, we had to wait at Pingalwara for one of the trustees to do an interview, and I still hadn’t made it to the border.  My autorickshaw driver went fast (only as fast as autos can go) and I made it there at 5:15 (the ceremony supposedly runs from 5-5:15).  He told me I wasn’t allowed to bring bags to the border, so I had to leave everything with him: my computer, wallet and passport etc.  I desperately wanted to see the ceremony, so I put blind faith in him and literally ran.  I made it for the last 10 minutes but unfortunately, my view was largely obstructed by the throngs of Indians chanting “Hindustan.”  I was able to get some photos and video clips from the event by sticking out my arm, which will be my only way to really see the ceremony.  

Covering one's head is a must out of respect

Communal dining hall where people are fed for free. I spent one night staying at the foreigner hostel in the temple and I managed to get at least three meals out of them..ha

Waiting in line to see the Golden Temple shrine

Magical microbial culture that is "Jeev Amrit" (activates existing nutrients in the soil, negating the need for external fertilizer inputs)

Burning of crop residues after harvest, a really environmentally destructive process that releases noxious gases into the atmosphere and wastes valuable green material that could be used as mulch for nutrient recycling

In a field of turmeric

Zero Budget Natural Farming Centre outside Amritsar

People chanting "Hindustan"

What a show of Nationalism!

Seeing into Pakistan

Golden Temple at night is the most beautiful

The next day, I took a train to Ludhiana to meet up with Kawaljeet and speak with some scholars at the Punjab Agricultural University (PAU).  The two fellows my American friend Sara put me in touch with did not ever respond to my emails, so I ended up just meeting with one senior economist and two PhD students.  The interviews were interesting but not as fruitful as I would have liked.  However, the professor’s dissertation work culminated in a document about smallholder farmers leaving agriculture in Punjab, which should be interesting to read.  The professor was a character as well.  I could tell he was a bit scatterbrained, aloof, and also tended to mumble softly in mediocre English, which made it very difficult to understand.  He also seemed like a bit of a Marxist socialist who disapproved of the government, but couldn’t state this too openly because PAU is a government institution.

After my stay in Punjab, I feel more prepared to attend the World Agricultural Forum Conference in Hyderabad, which will focus on small holder farmers and also have the presence of scholars, government officials, and agri-tech firms.  En route to Pune (a 28 hour overnight train), I experienced my first potentially threatening situation in India.  Sure, there were a few moments in Ladakh where older men who befriended me may have gotten the wrong idea, but never felt truly in danger and they seemed harmless.  However, I woke up this morning on the train and there was this man in the compartment just lurking about.  It seemed like he may have been watching me and waiting for me to wake up.  He just stared while I put my contacts in and tried to get my bearings after a disorienting slumber.  We eventually started talking and he seemed perfectly harmless, except he kept brushing up against my leg or arm with his hand.  This was the first red flag.  Then he started showing me photos of his wife and kids, his dogs, his SUVs and motorcycles, his fancy family vacations etc.  He asked about my travel plans in India when I showed him the Lonely Planet book and then said if I ever pass through his city, to call him and welcomed me to stay at his house (I think this must be an Indian thing).  However, then the other man in my compartment got up and left.  I asked where he went and this creep said he “asked him to leave to give us privacy.”  Uhm, excuse me?  Then he asked if he could have a kiss.  I said no and he kept insisting.  He touched my leg several times, squeezing my thigh.  I told him that I have a boyfriend and he has a wife and this is very inappropriate and makes me very uncomfortable, but he kept insisting that it was harmless – “a kiss, it’s nothing” – and for me to “feel comfortable.”  He said, “it’s no problem” and that he is so unhappy and has been “waiting for me.”  I kept saying no, then he said something about how “aren’t relationships open in USA?”  When I refused, he tried for a kiss on the cheek instead, to which I also said no.  He even commented on the tiny bit of bra strap that was sticking out of my cardigan asking about “The strip under my shirt,” talk about invasive.  Eventually he gave up, but he was very persistent and made me feel really uncomfortable.  Foolishly, we exchanged mobile numbers, as I checked my phone and he asked to have my phone number.  I didn’t know what to say, so I gave it to him.  Then he kept insisting we become facebook friends.  I never want to see or speak to this man again and I want to report it to the railway police, but this would probably unfold into a bureaucratic nightmare.  Fortunately, nothing happened but it could have ended very badly.  I feel strongly that if people don’t speak up about these issues, they will just continue to happen in the future.  Men (and women) should know that this is not socially acceptable and will not be tolerated.  So my friend in Delhi called the man, impersonating the Delhi police and said that a woman had filed a complaint about him on the train, asked for his address etc. and said that he was going to pursue the matter with the Railway Police.  This guy was quick to apologize and beg that nothing be done; he called me to apologize and said he meant no harm (haha yeah right), and I curtly thanked him for the call and hung up.  I am so grateful for the assistance of people like my friend who look out for me even though it is certainly not their job.