From farmers’ protest to floods: Punjab’s blueprint of Resistance lives on

Gurdaspur is usually slow, almost sleepy, when the skies above are not lit with drones from across the border. But the rains came hard, and with them the Majha belt – Ajnala, Ferozepur, Fazilka – was underwater in a day. By the second, cavalcades of Fortuners and Hiluxes rolled in, trailing trucks and tractor-trolleys stacked with boats and supplies. 

Word of the floods had travelled fast, too fast. Social media already pulsed with images and appeals. The who’s who of the Punjabi film world, influencers of every stripe – lifestyle vloggers, family vloggers, car vloggers – joined activists, writers, and kisan morcha leaders. Marriage resorts, usually decked out for baraats, became warehouses of relief. The entire community seemed to wake up in unison, moving as if rehearsed.

The question is: how did Punjab learn to organise so fast?

Gauravdeep of Initiators of Change puts it plainly: “These are lessons we learnt from the Kisan Morcha. This is the third flood we are doing sewa for – 2019, 2023, and now. One thing we understood during the movement was that there is only one way to respond, and that is to act immediately.”

That instinct was forged at Delhi’s borders. Protest camps swelled into townships, self-sufficient and stubbornly alive. Langars fed tens of thousands. Medical tents treated the sick. Tractor convoys rumbled in with wheat, blankets, and fuel. The youth ran IT cells under the Kisan Ekta Morcha banner – fact-checking, pushing out messages, managing a global echo chamber. Women led chants, stirred vats of dal, and drove tractors through police barricades. The diaspora raised money and pressured governments abroad.

What had begun as a desperate stand hardened into a kind of university. Kitchens, convoys, clinics, media networks – an improvised blueprint for collective action.

As Amarpreet Singh, who headed Khalsa Aid’s India chapter for fifteen years and now leads Global Sikhs, explains, this organising instinct predates Kisan Morcha. “It’s a gift of community engagements that already exist within Sikhism and Punjabi culture. At the Fatehgarh Sahib mela, every few metres you’ll find a langar, or someone serving pakoras, cold drinks, or managing shoes at the gurdwara. Seva has ingrained in people the art of managing. So when disaster strikes, they already know how to organise. That’s why it looks so planned.”

That blueprint has become muscle memory. The moment the floods hit, the same choreography returned.

Langars were the frontline again. Gurdwaras, NGOs, and villages turned kitchens into relief centres, serving the displaced as they once fed protesters camped on highways. Tractor convoys that once hauled firewood and grain to Singhu and Tikri now ferried rations, fodder, and families marooned by chest-high water. Medical langars set up beside them, tending to villagers and their cattle.

Rattan Singh Dhillon, who leads the Gerrari off-roading group and uses his 4x4 as a lifeline during floods, said: “After the farmers’ protest, my instinct in any Punjab crisis is simple: don’t wait, act. I amplify ground voices, share verified updates, and connect those in need with those who can help. One post can mobilise hundreds, so I use my platform to highlight relief efforts while also stepping on the ground when possible. The protest taught me that seva is both digital and physical, and my role is to channel that collective Punjabi spirit so no one feels alone in a crisis.”

The digital front moved in lockstep. WhatsApp groups doubled as helplines. Youth who once manned Kisan Ekta Morcha’s IT cells now pushed out emergency numbers, maintained live Google Sheets of supply distribution, and quashed rumours. Journalists and influencers livestreamed submerged fields and crowded camps, calling in donations within hours. Clips of villagers offering tea to NDRF jawans went viral – an echo of the Trolley Times spirit of self-representation.

Trolley Times founder Ajay Natt said, “Today, social media and digital outreach are the first response. People trust it more because of the government’s slow reaction and biases last year. Appeals from the ground are seen as raw and genuine. The organisational networks built during the farmers’ protest still exist – farmers, labour unions, mass organisations. People believe they’ll respond quickly and authentically because they have local contacts. That trust means amplification is immediate.”

He added, “It’s not only Trolley Times. A whole new media has emerged – reporters, born from the people. They don’t have the biases or agenda of legacy media. Their reports are raw, not polished, but that rawness is their strength. They show the people’s hardships, connect emotionally, and report on the ground with authenticity. They use YouTube, Instagram, and Twitter – that’s their set book. Because of this, people trust them more, and their work gains worldwide appeal.”

The farmers’ protest left behind more than a political victory – it seeded a cultural muscle memory that Punjab has carried into every crisis since. 

As Natt points out, “Punjab’s people have never been devotees of any ruler. They are independent thinkers, historically rebellious. Whenever they feel oppressed – by government, corporations, or nature – they unite as a force. Internal conflicts go to the back seat, a unified face comes forward.”

That instinct is rooted in a centuries-old culture of service. “The second thing is belief in community force, langar, sewa, collective work. With most people coming from agricultural backgrounds, they learn to work as a team. That makes them confident and self-reliant.”

Seen in this light, Punjab’s flood relief is not an improvisation but a continuation of its history. The protest ended, but the blueprint remained. Punjab now carries its template of resistance and resilience into every fight, every flood, every crisis.

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