New Delhi, May 26, 2008 - Released by Federation of God Believers - Farmers helpless in India - I had virtually no knowledge about the farm and agricultural land where my father had asked me to accompany him. We were not farmers by profession, so I had no idea how many hectares of land had belonged to my father in Jhelum district and whether or not the land had officially or really belonged to my father or some other person (s), or the ownership of a third party was involved? My father generally kept all the information up to him or it might be known to my mother, I have no idea.

I was only sure of one thing that my father was in effect the authority and seemed to have all proprietary privileges over the land in question and he was empowered to take any decision about the income or distribution of the grain or any other related matter.

My father took me to the open fields where the wheat in huge heaps was dumped at several loose points. Around two dozens of people/farmers had gathered there, where I overheard that grains were to be distributed among the owners and small farmers/labor contractors, and my father had the lion’s share in the crops.

I was asked to sit down under a tree where some charpoys were stalled for visitors. After a long meeting in the field, they reached a consensus decision about the distribution of the grains, and small refreshment was pre-arranged under a shadow of trees where I was made to sit. After the refreshment session was over, all people dispersed and my father asked me to leave for the guest house where we were staying.

The guest house had belonged to a big land owner of that area and he had made all arrangements for us to extend every possible courtesy as a guest.

A bullock cart pulled by a male buffalo was arranged for us by one of my father’s friends to come from the guest house to the field and back. After the job of the field was over, we sat on the bullock cart to go to the guest house. On our way, I found my father in a thoughtful mode and I enquired what he was thinking about?

My father was serious, he said,” The economic conditions of farmers in India are not up to mark and there is little hope of its improvement in the very near future and that worries me, since it adversely affects the small farmers and the contract labors.”

He continued, “They don’t get their rightful dues and the major portion of income of their hard labor goes to the owners with an unfair result that the small farmers and the contract labors are deprived of their legitimate reward of their hard labor. They can’t afford to give even primary education to their children, most of them remain illiterate and some, who are privileged to join schools, leave their studies in the middle due to financial hardship.”

My father continued:”After two or three seasons, millions of hectares of land are destroyed including cotton plantation, horticultural plants, fruit and vegetable, like apricots, peaches, salad, beans, peas and tomatoes, and other agricultural crops like wheat and grains, most of them are destroyed by various natural calamities.”

I asked my father, “What are normally the causes of the destruction of crops?
My father explained: “The causes of destruction of crops include violent hailstorm, flood, heavy downpour or prolonged draught or famine, or their crops are eaten by pests or vermin or due to unexpected diseases spread or attack by locust invasion.”
I further asked my father, “Lala Ji, where from the locusts come and why do they attack the crops?

My father explained to me: “The locusts usually concentrate on mountain pastures and forests and when there is no grass due to drought they would migrate and greedily eat agricultural crops and destroy millions of hectares of land.”
“Since the British Govt.in India is neither interested nor has equipped the local authorities to fight locusts either by fighting instruments or by pesticides, hence the villagers and farmers cannot fight the infestations.”

I asked my father, “Why don’t you do something to help them in such emergencies?

My father said, “I don’t know how I would be able to do anything with my humble contribution, still I may like to experiment how it works in such catastrophes.”
After a week or so, when my father got his share of wheat in gunny bags running into several dozens, much more than two hundred or so in addition to other grains. He didn’t send them to market for sale but withheld the entire stock.

My father Lala Ushnak Rai Ji called some of the small farmers and proposed to keep with them his entire share of wheat and other grains in special rooms to serve as ware houses, and as and when any calamity occurs, the stock would be released free of cost to the deserving farmers and contract labors. He   promised that they would also be given additional wheat to sell in the market to meet their other basic expenses relating home and field.

My father further proposed that each such person storing the grains as store house would be given reasonable rent for their rooms and if they don’t have such rooms, they could build them at his cost.

My father called the group of small farmers from nearby villages, who appreciated the proposal and became ready to keep the grains in their spare rooms and would build more rooms if found deficient.

We stayed there for about 7 days more and my father got the stock of wheat and other grains packed up in gunny bags and handed over the charge of his entire stock to the needy farmers, who assured him to comply with his instructions and thereafter we came back to our permanent home Montgomery.

Unfortunately, the next year the crops were partly destroyed by prolonged violent thunderstorm hitting the area at wrong time and severely damaged the standing crops and there was very little hope to yield reasonable results.

On receiving this news, my father asked me to go to our farm land.  We reached Wahula, situated in Jhelum district. This time we decided not to go to the guest house and went straight to the house of my maternal uncle in Dalwal.

My father had been a great philanthropist throughout his life. Whether spiritual, religious or social areas, he normally didn’t disclose anything to our relatives or anyone else about his proposal how he wished to help the deserving people or noble causes, perhaps our family knew it that too only my mother.
Here also, he took an independent decision to help the people affected by the natural calamities. 

When my father contacted the concerned deserving farmers to release the stock of wheat and other grains, he was shocked to learn that all rooms, where the grains were stored, were found empty and there was not even a single bag of grain or any other produce left behind.

My father called all the concerned farmers and held a meeting to ask for their explanation.

One person on their behalf said,” We are so poor that we were to pay lot of loans in the last year. The extra grains that you reserved for us came to our rescue. We disposed of the entire stock of your grains and cleared our loans and we are now relieved of the heavy interest that we were to pay outside.”

“The heavy interest was piling up and climbing higher and higher and whatever our earning used to come from the crops was lost and sunk every year and nothing was left to eat even after getting the income from the crops. We remain permanent poor irrespective of the conditions of the crops.”

My father asked them: “Why didn’t you inform me before taking out the entire stock of grains and disposed of stealthily? You have committed a breach of trust, an act of treason.

They had no answer. Meanwhile, one person among them picked up a big stone and hurled it at my father, which hit him on the right side of the head and he started bleeding and meanwhile the man concerned ran away despite people’s efforts to catch hold of him.

The people carried my father into a nearby hospital for dressing and examination where I also accompanied.  The doctor told my father that he was out of danger, just required dressing and precaution for a week or so.

My father was pained by this act of small farmers and told me, “A section of Indian farmers lacks moral character and it is the character that makes the nation.”
He further said, “Farmers shall always remain a weak part of the country even though it forms the majority of the nation. If India gets freedom tomorrow, they shall still weaken the nation rather making it strong. Simply because certain sections of farmers don’t have the habit of working regularly for whole of the year, that’s why they suffer financial hardship.”

“They waste most of the time in loitering here and there, fighting with each other, wasting time in court cases, and don’t try to adopt any other side profession to earn more to make up the deficiency of their income.

They take loan on heavy interest from private persons by pledging their fields and spend it without planning and considering how much interest they are to pay?” Some of them even commit suicide since they find themselves unfit for any work to do in the town, they can’t adjust with the city life, and their starvation and habit of not working regularly bring them to their ill fate.”

“They suffer so much that they can’t send their children to good schools and most of them remain illiterate. Unless this lacuna is given a serious thought and practical shape, India shall suffer from their hands even if our country becomes free.”

When the dressing of my father was completed after an injection was given to him, he was made to sit in the main hall. Meanwhile a patient came at an emergency ward and the doctor rushed there. He was the same person who had thrown the stone at my father and injured him. Before the people could overpower him, the news reached my father, who prevented everybody to touch that person.”

That man after hitting my father started running rash and aimlessly and fell down on the side of a well where some iron instruments were kept for some repairing purposes. He met with that accident and a sharp instrument hit his head and got lining fracture on one hand, I don’t remember which side it was, however, his condition was so bad that the doctor advised immediate blood transfusion to save his life since lot of blood had flushed out of the body.

No body was willing to give blood to save him, not even his friends and relatives who were present there because of his unpardonable act of throwing stone to hurt my father.

My father asked the doctor whether his blood could match that of his? Though the people around my father pressed him to withdraw his offer, he didn’t change his decision.

Incidentally the blood of my father matched with that of his blood and my father on one side made to lie to give his blood and on the other end the other person was receiving it. This process continued for about half an hour or so. When the doctor disconnected the transfer of blood, my father came out of the hospital and we went to our Maternal Uncle’s house.

After about four days, my father authorized a group of small farmers to take charge of his fields and directed them to distribute the entire proceed among the weak farmers at the final stage.

My father and I were to return home, we reached the bus stand, and the bus was to move after about half an hour later.

Hundreds of farmers were standing to see off my father for which I felt proud.  They were sad and cheerless, perhaps cursing themselves within for their negative conduct of stealing the grains. Tears were rolling on some faces and some had apparent repentance and some were just silent and soundless with an impression of regret; all was real, no drama.

Meanwhile, a man with a bandage on his head, however, reached there.  He caught hold of my father’s feet; he was the same person who had hit a stone at my father’s head. He was virtually weeping and begging my father to pardon his sin. My father raised him up, embraced and blessed him and asked him to take rest, which was important for his health and forget about what happened.

The person said, “I am a sinner, a criminal; let me try to repent by falling on your feet and allow me to hit the ground and die.” My father was trying to solace him but he was continuously weeping loudly and within that scene of Good Bye, we departed and our bus moved and moved and we were on our way to Montgomery City.
On the way, I asked my father many questions, many queries related to what happened there.

Continued….