Showing posts with label Bhagat Singh. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bhagat Singh. Show all posts

Thursday, July 16, 2026

Bridge the Divide: Hunger, Dissent and the Shrinking Democratic Imagination

 From Gandhi to Sonam Wangchuk, the politics of fasting reveals what happens when governments stop listening

By Ramphal Kataria

Abstract

The indefinite fast has occupied a unique place in the political history of India. It is at once a moral appeal, a form of self-suffering, and a democratic warning signal. From Mahatma Gandhi’s fasts against colonial rule and communal violence to Bhagat Singh’s prison hunger strike, from Potti Sriramulu’s sacrifice for linguistic reorganisation to Swami Gyan Swaroop Sanand’s final fast for the Ganga, the fast unto death has emerged whenever institutional channels appear exhausted. The contemporary protest of Sonam Wangchuk raises a larger question: what becomes of a democracy when governments no longer consider dialogue with dissenters a political necessity? This essay traces the historical evolution of hunger strike as a democratic weapon, compares Indian experiences with Ireland, Britain, Turkey and the United States, and examines the changing relationship between the Indian state and protest movements. It argues that the health of a democracy is measured not by whether governments concede every demand, but by whether they recognise dissent as legitimate, engage it in good faith, and preserve the moral space in which disagreement can be heard.

A government may reject a demand; a democracy cannot reject the right to be heard.

I. When a Democracy Stops Listening

Reports of Sonam Wangchuk’s deteriorating health during his indefinite fast should disturb every citizen regardless of political affiliation. The issue is larger than one individual or one protest. It concerns the relationship between the Indian state and dissent. Competitive examinations, paper leaks, administrative accountability and the anxieties of students may be the immediate context, but the deeper question is whether governments still feel compelled to engage with those who challenge them.

The moral power of Wangchuk’s protest does not arise from physical force. It arises from vulnerability. A person who voluntarily embraces suffering places before society a difficult question: if institutions refuse to listen, what remains except the body itself? That question has echoed through Indian history for more than a century.

Democracy is not merely a system of elections. It is a continuous conversation between rulers and the ruled. Parliament, courts, media, trade unions, student organisations, farmers’ movements, women’s groups and civil society organisations exist because representative government cannot hear every grievance directly. Political theorists from Alexis de Tocqueville to Robert Dahl recognised that pressure groups are not a distortion of democracy; they are part of its circulatory system. When channels of communication narrow, protests intensify. When dialogue disappears, fasting becomes a final appeal.

II. The Ancient Logic of the Fast

The hunger strike did not originate with modern nationalism. In ancient Ireland, the practice of troscadh allowed a wronged person to fast at the doorstep of an offender, placing moral pressure upon him. Similar traditions existed in parts of the Indian subcontinent, where fasting could be used to demand justice from rulers or creditors. The logic was simple: self-suffering created a public moral obligation.

Modern politics transformed this custom into a weapon of resistance. Unlike armed rebellion, a fast does not seek to destroy the opponent. It seeks to expose the opponent’s conscience. Gandhi understood this distinction better than any modern leader.

III. Gandhi and the Politics of Self-Suffering

Mahatma Gandhi did not invent the fast, but he gave it unprecedented political meaning. For Gandhi, fasting was not blackmail. It was a form of satyagraha—truth-force—through which the protester purified himself while appealing to the moral imagination of the adversary. Gandhi fasted against British repression, against communal violence, against caste discrimination and even against his own followers when he believed they had strayed from non-violence.

His 1932 fast in Yerwada Jail against the British decision to create separate electorates for the Depressed Classes became one of the defining episodes of the freedom struggle. The fast compelled intense negotiations that culminated in the Poona Pact. Gandhi’s final fast in January 1948 sought peace between Hindus and Muslims in a city torn by communal hatred. It ended only when leaders across communities pledged to restore harmony.

The British Empire possessed armies, prisons and laws. Gandhi possessed a frail body. Yet the empire feared the political consequences of his suffering because it understood that moral authority can outlast coercive power. The colonial state often arrested Gandhi, but it rarely ignored him. Negotiation remained unavoidable.

The British imprisoned Gandhi repeatedly; they did not pretend he did not exist.

IV. Bhagat Singh, Jatin Das and the Prison Hunger Strike

The revolutionary tradition reached a similar conclusion through a different route. In 1929, Bhagat Singh, Batukeshwar Dutt and other political prisoners launched a hunger strike in Lahore Jail demanding equal treatment with European prisoners, access to reading material, decent food and recognition as political prisoners. The strike lasted for months.

The most tragic figure was Jatin Das. He refused food for sixty-three days despite severe physical deterioration. On 13 September 1929 he died in Lahore Jail. His funeral procession from Lahore to Calcutta became a national event. Thousands lined the railway tracks to pay homage. Bhagat Singh’s own fast continued for more than one hundred days before being suspended.

What gave these young men the strength to endure such suffering? Historians of political imprisonment often point to three sources: ideological conviction, collective solidarity and the belief that personal sacrifice could awaken a larger public. The body becomes bearable when the cause appears greater than the self. That is why hunger strikes frequently emerge in prisons, where every other instrument of protest has been removed.

Bhagat Singh’s fast demonstrated that even revolutionaries who believed in armed struggle recognised the extraordinary symbolic power of voluntary suffering. The British authorities eventually negotiated on several demands because the protest had become impossible to ignore.

V. Death and State Formation: Potti Sriramulu

Independent India inherited this political language. The most consequential post-independence fast was undertaken by Potti Sriramulu for a separate Telugu-speaking state. After fifty-eight days without food, he died on 15 December 1952. Massive protests erupted across the region. The Government of India soon announced the creation of Andhra State in 1953, setting in motion the larger reorganisation of states on linguistic lines.

Sriramulu’s death established a difficult democratic precedent. Governments realised that ignoring a fast unto death could produce greater instability than negotiating with protesters. The lesson was not that every demand must be accepted. Rather, delay and silence could transform a limited agitation into a mass movement.

VI. Punjab and the Politics of Fasting

The Punjabi Suba movement also employed fasting as a political instrument. Master Tara Singh undertook a fast in 1961 demanding a Punjabi-speaking state. The fast ended after assurances from Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, though the demand remained unresolved. Later, Sant Fateh Singh launched his own fast and threatened self-immolation if Punjab was not reorganised. The eventual creation of the present state of Punjab in 1966 emerged from a complex process involving negotiations, commissions, electoral pressures and mass mobilisation.

These episodes reveal an important feature of Indian federalism: hunger strikes rarely succeed in isolation. They become effective when combined with organisational networks, public sympathy and political bargaining. The fast acts as a moral catalyst rather than a substitute for democratic negotiation.

VII. Swami Gyan Swaroop Sanand and the Ganga

In recent memory, no fast carried greater environmental symbolism than that of Swami Gyan Swaroop Sanand, formerly Professor G.D. Agrawal of IIT Kanpur. A distinguished environmental engineer, he undertook multiple fasts demanding protection of the upper Ganga from destructive hydropower projects and ecological degradation. In 2018 he fasted for 111 days before dying on 11 October.

Sanand’s death was a profound indictment of the gap between official reverence for the Ganga and concrete ecological action. Governments of different parties had launched ambitious river-cleaning programmes, yet a scientist-monk felt compelled to risk his life to secure attention for environmental concerns. His fast demonstrated that moral authority can emerge from expertise as well as spirituality.

The question raised by Sanand remains unresolved: what does it mean when a republic celebrates a river symbolically while a respected scientist dies demanding its protection?

VIII. Hunger Strikes Beyond India

India is not unique. Around the world, hunger strikes have appeared wherever protesters confront powerful institutions.

Ireland

Irish republicans transformed the hunger strike into a global symbol. Lord Mayor Terence MacSwiney died in Brixton Prison in 1920 after seventy-four days without food. His death generated international outrage and strengthened support for Irish independence. In 1981, Bobby Sands and nine other Irish Republican Army prisoners died during the Maze Prison hunger strike demanding political status. Sands was elected to the British Parliament while still fasting, demonstrating the extraordinary political force of self-sacrifice.

Britain and the Suffragettes

Women campaigning for the vote used hunger strikes extensively after imprisonment. The British government responded with force-feeding, a practice widely condemned as cruel and degrading. Public sympathy increasingly shifted toward the suffragettes as images of women being physically restrained entered political debate.

Turkey

Turkish prisons witnessed prolonged death fasts in the 1990s and 2000s against prison conditions and isolation policies. Hundreds died over several years, illustrating how hunger strikes can become tragic wars of endurance when negotiations collapse completely.

United States

Labour leader César Chávez used repeated fasts during the farm workers’ movement to reaffirm non-violence and draw national attention to the conditions of agricultural labourers. His 1968 fast lasted twenty-five days and received support from figures across the political spectrum, including Senator Robert Kennedy.

These international examples confirm a common pattern: the hunger strike emerges when protesters believe ordinary institutional channels have failed. Its power lies not in coercion but in the moral discomfort created by visible suffering.

IX. From Dialogue to Distance: The Changing Indian State

The central democratic question today is not whether governments should surrender to every protest. No responsible state can govern by permanent capitulation. The question is whether governments consider dialogue an obligation even when they intend to refuse the demand.

The contrast between different moments in recent Indian politics is instructive. During the 2011 India Against Corruption movement, the United Progressive Alliance government engaged repeatedly with Anna Hazare’s team despite deep disagreements over the Jan Lokpal Bill. Negotiations were often contentious and politically costly, but the government recognised that sustained public protest required sustained political conversation.

The farmers’ movement against the three farm laws between 2020 and 2021 lasted for more than a year, roughly thirteen months from June 2020 to November 2021. The Union government held multiple rounds of talks with farmer organisations, yet many protesters believed the negotiations lacked genuine flexibility. Eventually the Prime Minister announced the repeal of the laws. The episode demonstrated both the capacity of mass mobilisation to influence policy and the dangers of prolonged mistrust between state and society.

The emerging concern is that contemporary governance increasingly treats protest as a law-and-order problem rather than a political conversation. Barricades, detentions, internet shutdowns and preventive restrictions often appear before meaningful engagement begins. Even when talks occur, they are frequently episodic and tactical rather than continuous and institutionalised.

A republic is not weakened by listening to dissent; it is weakened when dissent is treated as an administrative inconvenience.

X. Is This Fascism? A Necessary Distinction

The term “fascism” is often used loosely in contemporary debate. Historical fascism involved one-party rule, suppression of elections, organised political violence, destruction of independent institutions and a totalising ideology centred on the nation and the leader. India remains a constitutional democracy with competitive elections, an active judiciary, opposition parties and a vibrant, if pressured, civil society.

Yet political scientists use the concept of “democratic backsliding” to describe systems that retain elections while gradually weakening institutional checks, concentrating executive power, marginalising opposition voices and narrowing the space for dissent. Scholars such as Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt have argued that democracies often erode not through sudden coups but through incremental changes that normalise exceptional power.

Seen through this lens, the concern is not that India has become a classical fascist state. The concern is that democratic habits—consultation, tolerance of criticism, respect for autonomous institutions and willingness to negotiate with opponents—may be weakening. The language of nationalism can become a substitute for political persuasion, and majoritarian electoral success can be treated as a mandate to dismiss all dissent as anti-national.

That tendency deserves criticism precisely because it threatens the pluralist foundations of the Constitution

XI. Pressure Groups and the Democratic Order

Farmers’ unions, student organisations, environmental movements, women’s groups, trade unions and regional parties are often portrayed as obstacles to governance. In fact they are essential intermediaries between citizens and the state. Democratic theory recognises that elections occur periodically, while grievances emerge daily. Pressure groups aggregate interests, generate information and compel governments to justify their decisions publicly.

When governments stop engaging such groups, two consequences follow. Moderate leaders lose credibility, and more confrontational forms of protest gain appeal. The history of Punjab, Assam, Kashmir and numerous regional movements demonstrates that sustained refusal to negotiate rarely eliminates dissent; it often radicalises it.

The constitutional architecture of India assumes negotiation. Federalism, coalition politics, parliamentary committees, labour boards, university bodies and local governments all exist to channel conflict into institutions. A democracy that relies exclusively on executive command gradually empties these mediating structures of meaning.

XII. The RSS, BJP and the Question of Democratic Legacy

Any assessment of contemporary Indian politics must also examine the historical evolution of the Bharatiya Janata Party and its ideological parent, the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh. Historians broadly agree that the RSS, founded in 1925, focused primarily on Hindu social organisation rather than leading the major mass campaigns of the anti-colonial movement such as the Non-Cooperation Movement, Civil Disobedience Movement or Quit India Movement. Individual members participated in various capacities, but the organisation as a whole was not a central force in those nationwide struggles.

After independence, the political tradition associated with the RSS evolved through the Bharatiya Jana Sangh and later the BJP. It participated in electoral politics, opposed the Emergency, and eventually emerged as a dominant national party. The Ram Janmabhoomi movement of the 1980s and 1990s became its most significant mass mobilisation campaign, reshaping Indian politics around questions of religion, identity and nationalism.

The democratic challenge today is not whether the BJP has the right to govern; repeated electoral victories have unquestionably given it that right. The challenge is whether overwhelming electoral strength will be accompanied by equal commitment to institutional restraint, transparency and accommodation of dissent. Majoritarian legitimacy and constitutional democracy are not identical. The Constitution protects opponents as well as supporters.

XIII. Transparency, Temples and the Public Trust Question

Debate over the Shri Ram Janmabhoomi Teerth Kshetra Trust reflects a broader national question: how should religious institutions that receive enormous public donations be regulated? The trust was created in 2020 following the Supreme Court’s Ayodhya judgment, and government officials serve on its board alongside religious representatives. RTI activists have argued that such institutional links justify greater transparency, while the trust has maintained that it is not a “public authority” under the Right to Information Act. The matter has been contested through legal and administrative proceedings.

It is therefore inaccurate to state categorically that there is “no audit” or that wrongdoing has been legally established. What can be said is that significant public debate exists regarding disclosure of donations, land transactions, decision-making procedures and the applicability of transparency laws. Comparable religious bodies—including the Tirumala Tirupati Devasthanams in Andhra Pradesh, the Shri Mata Vaishno Devi Shrine Board in Jammu and Kashmir, the Guruvayur Devaswom in Kerala and the Travancore Devaswom Board—operate under statutory frameworks that provide varying degrees of public oversight and financial reporting. Whether the Ayodhya trust should be brought under a similar regime is a legitimate democratic question requiring legal and parliamentary debate rather than unverified accusation.

Transparency is not hostility to faith. On the contrary, institutions built in the name of faith often command greater public confidence when their finances and decisions are open to scrutiny. The principle is simple: the larger the public trust, the stronger the case for public accountability.

XIV. How Democracies Become Authoritarian

Authoritarianism rarely arrives announcing itself. It advances through habits: treating critics as enemies, rewarding political defection, weakening independent institutions, concentrating media narratives, and converting electoral majorities into claims of moral infallibility. Citizens gradually become accustomed to the idea that disagreement is disloyalty.

India’s constitutional founders feared precisely this possibility. B.R. Ambedkar warned that constitutional morality required restraint from both rulers and citizens. Jawaharlal Nehru argued that criticism was indispensable to parliamentary government. Even leaders who enjoyed enormous popularity recognised that democratic authority must remain answerable.

The danger today is not simply the strength of one party. It is the weakening of the expectation that governments must explain themselves to opponents. Delimitation debates, party defections, investigative agencies, media concentration and restrictions on protest are all contested political questions. Taken individually, each can be defended as lawful. Taken together, they create a perception that power is becoming increasingly insulated from dissenting voices. Perception itself matters in a democracy because legitimacy depends not only on legality but also on trust.

XV. Sonam Wangchuk and the Future of Democratic Conversation

The immediate issue before the country is not whether every demand raised by Sonam Wangchuk or his supporters should be accepted. Governments may conclude that some demands are impractical, excessive or unsupported by evidence. Democratic politics allows disagreement. What democracy cannot afford is indifference.

A government confident in its position should have no fear of open dialogue. It should meet protesters, present evidence, explain constraints and justify its decisions publicly. If the demand is rejected, let it be rejected after hearing, reasoning and accountability. Silence is not strength. Distance is not authority.

The history of India’s great democratic movements—from Gandhi and Bhagat Singh to Sriramulu, Tara Singh, Anna Hazare and G.D. Agrawal—teaches a consistent lesson: the fast unto death becomes powerful only when people believe ordinary channels have failed. Every hunger strike is therefore also a referendum on the responsiveness of institutions.

A republic that forces citizens to speak through suffering has already lost part of its democratic imagination. The task before India is not merely to end one fast. It is to rebuild the habit of listening before another citizen feels compelled to place his body between power and conscience.

“The body becomes a political argument only when institutions cease to listen.”

“Gandhi’s fasts worked not because the British lacked force, but because they feared the moral consequences of ignoring suffering.”

“A democracy is judged not by how loudly the government speaks, but by how seriously it hears its critics.”

“The question is not whether every protest must win; the question is whether every protester remains visible to the republic.”

References

1. Brown, Judith. Gandhi: Prisoner of Hope. Yale University Press, 1989.

2. Gandhi, M.K. An Autobiography: The Story of My Experiments with Truth. Navajivan, 1927.

3. Nanda, B.R. Mahatma Gandhi: A Biography. Oxford University Press, 1958.

4. Noorani, A.G. The Trial of Bhagat Singh. Oxford University Press, 1996.

5. Singh, Bhagat. Jail Notebook and Other Writings. LeftWord Books, 2007.

6. Jalal, Ayesha. Self and Sovereignty. Routledge, 2000.

7. Guha, Ramachandra. India After Gandhi. HarperCollins, 2007.

8. Hardgrave, Robert L. The Dravidian Movement. Popular Prakashan, 1965.

9. Brass, Paul R. Language, Religion and Politics in North India. Cambridge University Press, 1974.

10. Singh, Khushwant. A History of the Sikhs, Vol. 2. Princeton University Press, 1966.

11. Agrawal, G.D. (Swami Gyan Swaroop Sanand), public letters and memoranda on Ganga conservation, 2008–2018.

12. MacSwiney, Terence. Principles of Freedom. Talbot Press, 1921.

13. Beresford, David. Ten Men Dead: The Story of the 1981 Irish Hunger Strike. Atlantic Monthly Press, 1987.

14. Purvis, June. Emmeline Pankhurst: A Biography. Routledge, 2002.

15. Chávez, César. An Organizer’s Tale. Penguin, 1997.

16. Dahl, Robert. Polyarchy: Participation and Opposition. Yale University Press, 1971.

17. Levitsky, Steven & Ziblatt, Daniel. How Democracies Die. Crown, 2018.

18. Arendt, Hannah. The Origins of Totalitarianism. Harcourt, 1951.

19. Ambedkar, B.R. Constituent Assembly Debates, 25 November 1949.

20. Supreme Court of India. M. Siddiq (D) Thr. Lrs v. Mahant Suresh Das & Ors (Ayodhya Judgment), 2019.

 

Wednesday, June 3, 2026

What Does It Matter if the Wildflowers Bloom or Wither?

 The Loneliness of Hope, the Persistence of Struggle, and the Communist Imagination in Feudal Haryana

By Ramphal Kataria

"Jangal ke phoolon ka kya khilna aur kya murjhana"
("What does it matter if the flowers of the forest bloom or wither?")

--Inderjeet Singh

"What does it matter if the flowers of the forest bloom or wither?"

The sentence appears simple. Almost fatalistic. A casual observer may mistake it for resignation. A poet may see melancholy in it. A romantic may read despair.

But those who have spent decades fighting against entrenched injustice hear something entirely different.

They hear the voice of a revolutionary who has spent his life sowing seeds in soil that often refuses germination.

They hear a man who knows that history is not made by immediate victories but by stubborn persistence.

They hear the loneliness of conviction.

And they hear hope.

Not the cheap hope sold by politicians during elections. Not the hope packaged as motivational slogans by corporate gurus. But the harder hope of a communist who has spent a lifetime standing with workers, farmers, women, students, and the dispossessed, despite knowing that the society around him may not yet be prepared for the world he dreams of.

The words belong to Inderjeet Singh, a veteran communist leader of Haryana. To understand the depth of this statement, one must understand the social landscape in which it was spoken.

The Tragedy of Haryana: Prosperity Without Emancipation

Haryana is frequently celebrated as a success story.

High agricultural productivity.

National-level sporting achievements.

Rapid urbanization.

Industrial corridors.

Growing infrastructure.

But beneath this glittering narrative lies another Haryana.

A Haryana where caste still determines social worth.

A Haryana where women continue to face systemic restrictions.

A Haryana where labour remains invisible.

A Haryana where village democracy often operates under the shadow of extra-constitutional authority.

A Haryana where feudal consciousness survives long after feudal economics has begun to crumble.

The contradiction is profound.

Tractors have replaced bullocks.

Smartphones have replaced postcards.

But social relations often remain trapped centuries behind.

Karl Marx observed that while productive forces evolve, social relations frequently lag behind them. This contradiction creates tension, conflict, and eventually transformation.

Haryana represents precisely such a contradiction.

Its economy increasingly belongs to modern capitalism.

Its social imagination often remains feudal.

"The greatest victory of exploitation is not economic control; it is convincing the exploited to identify with their exploiters."

Why the Communist Appears Alone

One of the most striking realities of political work in rural North India is the isolation of those who challenge caste hierarchy.

The communist organizer enters a village and speaks about wages.

The labourer agrees.

He speaks about land rights.

The farmer agrees.

He speaks about education.

The youth agrees.

He speaks about healthcare.

The women agree.

But the moment he speaks about caste, the conversation changes.

The room becomes uncomfortable.

The village remembers its boundaries.

The oppressed begin defending the structures that oppress them.

Marx wrote that the ruling ideas of every age are the ideas of the ruling class.

In Haryana, one may add:

The ruling ideas are not maintained merely by the ruling class. They are often reproduced by those who suffer under them.

This is the genius of social domination.

It requires neither chains nor prisons.

It survives through habit.

Through culture.

Through inherited prejudice.

Through fear.

And through the promise of belonging.

The Village and the Illusion of Unity

The Indian village is frequently romanticized.

Politicians celebrate it.

Films glorify it.

Nationalists idealize it.

But Dr. B.R. Ambedkar offered a much harsher assessment.

He described the village as a site of exclusion, hierarchy, and oppression.

History has repeatedly validated his warning.

The village is not a naturally harmonious community.

It is a contested space.

Different classes.

Different castes.

Different interests.

Different power structures.

To imagine otherwise is to ignore reality.

The landlord and agricultural labourer do not share identical interests.

The dominant caste and marginalized caste do not experience the village similarly.

The moneylender and indebted farmer do not stand on equal ground.

Yet political narratives often erase these contradictions.

Why?

Because exposing them threatens existing power.

"A society does not become just because it calls itself traditional. Many traditions survive precisely because they serve power."

The Cruel Genius of Caste

Perhaps nowhere has exploitation shown greater adaptability than in the caste system.

Capitalism changes.

Governments change.

Political parties change.

Empires rise and collapse.

Yet caste demonstrates extraordinary resilience.

Why?

Because caste converts economic inequality into moral legitimacy.

The poor are not merely poor.

They are told their position is natural.

The privileged are not merely privileged.

They are told their dominance is deserved.

This ideological transformation makes resistance difficult.

Marx described religion as the opium of the masses, not because he despised faith, but because he recognized how suffering can be justified through narratives that postpone justice.

In India, caste often performs a similar function.

It converts historical exploitation into social common sense.

And common sense is often the most difficult prison to escape.

The Communist's Impossible Task

The communist in Haryana confronts a paradox.

The people whose lives would improve most through collective political action are often divided by identities that weaken collective action.

Workers compete with workers.

Farmers distrust farmers.

Villages divide villages.

Castes oppose castes.

Religions confront religions.

The result is predictable.

The exploiters remain united.

The exploited remain fragmented.

This is why communist politics often appears slow.

Painfully slow.

Generationally slow.

Because its task is not merely economic.

It is psychological.

Cultural.

Civilizational.

The communist is not simply organizing protests.

He is attempting to transform consciousness.

And consciousness rarely changes overnight.

Lessons from History: Why Persistence Matters

History offers countless examples where movements appeared defeated before they transformed society.

When Marx wrote in nineteenth-century Europe, socialism seemed impossible.

Monarchies dominated.

Capitalists appeared invincible.

Workers possessed little power.

Yet labour movements transformed entire continents.

When Lenin organized revolutionaries in Tsarist Russia, they were a tiny minority facing one of the world's most powerful empires.

Most observers considered them irrelevant.

History decided otherwise.

When anti-colonial revolutionaries challenged the British Empire, independence appeared unimaginable.

The empire governed a quarter of humanity.

Resistance seemed futile.

History decided otherwise.

When Nelson Mandela entered prison, apartheid looked permanent.

History decided otherwise.

When Bhagat Singh spoke of socialism, many dismissed him as a dreamer.

History remembered him differently.

When E.M.S. Namboodiripad and the communist movement in Kerala advocated land reforms, critics predicted disaster.

Instead, Kerala emerged as one of India's most socially developed states.

The lesson is clear.

The measure of a movement is not whether victory is immediate.

The measure is whether its analysis of society is correct.

Because if the analysis is correct, history eventually catches up.

"Every transformative idea spends years looking unrealistic before it begins looking inevitable."

“Bach Jana Hi Ek Kamaal Hai”

Inderjeet Singh explains his dictum through an observation about rural life:

"The life of a villager is a great challenge. Merely surviving is an achievement. One may die of malnutrition, become prey to an animal, drown in a pond, or perish in some accident. Returning safely itself is a great accomplishment."

This statement operates at multiple levels.

It speaks literally about precarious rural existence.

But it also speaks politically.

To remain committed to social justice for decades is itself a form of survival.

Movements die.

Organizations fracture.

Comrades age.

Resources disappear.

Defeats accumulate.

Yet some continue.

Not because victory is guaranteed.

But because surrender would guarantee defeat.

The communist tradition has always understood this.

Its greatest strength is not certainty.

Its greatest strength is endurance.

The Gift of Adversity

Inderjeet's final reflection may be the most profound:

"The world has given me experiences in the form of accidents and hardships; I am merely returning them."

This is not bitterness.

It is transformation.

The suffering experienced by one individual becomes collective wisdom.

The wound becomes testimony.

The struggle becomes memory.

The memory becomes resistance.

And resistance becomes hope.

Every major movement in history emerged from such transformations.

The workers of Manchester.

The peasants of China.

The anti-apartheid activists of South Africa.

The freedom fighters of India.

The civil rights movement in America.

None were created by comfort.

All were forged through adversity.

The communist understands this better than most because communist politics begins not with idealism but with reality.

Reality is harsh.

Reality is unequal.

Reality is unjust.

The task is not to deny these facts.

The task is to change them.

Khap, Caste and Class: Why Rural Haryana Resists Equality and Why History Suggests Change Is Still Possible

"What does it matter if the flowers of the forest bloom or wither?"

The question continues to haunt us.

Not because it reflects despair.

But because it forces us to confront a painful reality: what happens when a just cause confronts a society that is structurally resistant to justice?

This is not merely the story of a communist organizer in Haryana.

It is the story of every revolutionary who has attempted to push history forward while society remains firmly anchored in the past.

The tragedy is not that the struggle exists.

The tragedy is that the beneficiaries of change are often mobilized against it.

That is the central contradiction of rural Haryana.

The Khap: The Persistence of Feudal Authority

No serious discussion of Haryana can avoid the institution commonly known as the Khap.

Its defenders describe it as a traditional social institution.

Its critics see it as an extra-constitutional power structure.

Both descriptions contain elements of truth.

Historically, Khaps emerged as mechanisms of social organization.

In periods when state structures were weak, they often played important administrative and dispute-resolution roles.

History, however, is not judged by origins.

It is judged by contemporary function.

The critical question is not what Khaps once were.

The critical question is what they represent today.

In contemporary Haryana, many Khaps continue to exercise social authority over marriage, women's autonomy, social behaviour, caste boundaries, and village relations.

Their power does not derive from the Constitution.

It derives from social legitimacy.

That legitimacy is precisely what concerns democrats, feminists, and communists alike.

Because whenever unelected institutions claim moral authority over citizens, democracy becomes incomplete.

"The struggle against feudalism is not a struggle against culture. It is a struggle against power disguised as culture."

The Invisible Cage

The most effective prisons are invisible.

People recognize physical chains.

They recognize economic deprivation.

But they often fail to recognize ideological captivity.

The young labourer who votes according to caste rather than class interest may sincerely believe he is acting rationally.

The small farmer who supports political forces aligned with dominant elites may genuinely believe he is protecting community interests.

The unemployed youth who directs anger toward another religion rather than toward unemployment itself may think he is defending society.

This is not stupidity.

It is ideological conditioning.

Marx described this condition as false consciousness.

The exploited frequently perceive the world through frameworks created by those who benefit from exploitation.

The result is tragic.

The victim begins protecting the very structures responsible for victimization.

Why Caste Survives Capitalism

Many early Marxists believed capitalism would gradually erode pre-capitalist identities.

Reality proved more complicated.

Capitalism did not destroy caste.

It adapted to it.

In India, caste and capitalism frequently cooperate.

Recruitment networks follow caste lines.

Business relationships follow caste lines.

Marriage alliances follow caste lines.

Political mobilization follows caste lines.

The market may be modern.

The mindset often remains feudal.

This explains why economic development alone cannot create social equality.

A village may have luxury vehicles and modern machinery.

Yet the social distance between castes may remain unchanged.

Economic growth without social transformation merely creates modernized inequality.

"A tractor can replace a bullock. It cannot replace an idea. Social revolutions occur when ideas change."

The Worker and the Farmer: Natural Allies Divided

One of the greatest successes of ruling classes throughout history has been dividing those who share common interests.

In Haryana, this division often appears through caste identities.

A landless worker and a small farmer frequently face similar economic vulnerabilities.

Both struggle with rising costs.

Both confront market uncertainty.

Both depend upon larger economic forces beyond their control.

Yet they are often mobilized against each other.

The division benefits neither.

It benefits those above them.

This pattern is not unique to Haryana.

It has appeared throughout history.

European aristocracies divided peasants.

Colonial powers divided communities.

Industrial capitalists divided workers.

Modern political elites divide voters.

The mechanism changes.

The objective remains identical.

Prevent solidarity.

Because solidarity is dangerous.

When ordinary people recognize common interests, existing hierarchies begin to tremble.

Why Communists Speak About Class

Critics often accuse communists of reducing everything to economics.

The criticism misunderstands the Marxist project.

Class analysis does not deny caste.

It does not deny gender.

It does not deny religion.

It asks a different question:

Who benefits?

Who loses?

Who possesses power?

Who performs labour?

Who controls resources?

Who shapes political decisions?

These questions reveal structures often hidden beneath cultural narratives.

When a worker earns less than the value he produces, exploitation exists.

When a woman performs unpaid labour while lacking social power, exploitation exists.

When caste determines opportunity, exploitation exists.

The communist seeks to expose these relationships.

Not because culture is irrelevant.

But because culture frequently conceals material inequality.

The Forgotten Revolutionaries

History often remembers kings.

It remembers generals.

It remembers wealthy industrialists.

It remembers prime ministers.

Yet social progress has usually emerged from very different people.

Anonymous workers.

Peasant organizers.

Teachers.

Trade unionists.

Women who challenged patriarchy.

Students who challenged authority.

People who possessed little power except conviction.

Their names rarely appear in school textbooks.

But without them history would look entirely different.

The eight-hour workday did not emerge from generosity.

Universal education did not emerge from charity.

Women's voting rights did not emerge from kindness.

Labour protections did not emerge from benevolence.

Every significant democratic gain was won through struggle.

Someone organized.

Someone sacrificed.

Someone endured ridicule.

Someone was defeated repeatedly.

And yet continued.

"History is written by famous people. History is changed by ordinary people."

The Long Shadow of Bhagat Singh

Among Indian revolutionaries, Bhagat Singh remains uniquely relevant.

Many celebrate his courage.

Far fewer engage seriously with his ideas.

Bhagat Singh was not merely an anti-colonial nationalist.

He was a socialist.

He believed political independence without social and economic justice would remain incomplete.

His concern was not only who ruled India.

His concern was what kind of India would emerge after colonial rule.

Would exploitation disappear?

Would inequality disappear?

Would workers gain dignity?

Would peasants gain freedom?

These questions remain unresolved.

In many respects, they remain more relevant today than ever.

The communist movement in India inherited this unfinished agenda.

Its successes have been partial.

Its failures have been significant.

Yet the questions it raises remain unavoidable.

Women: The Most Revolutionary Question

No struggle for equality can ignore women.

Indeed, the status of women often reveals the true character of a society.

Haryana's gender contradictions are striking.

The state produces internationally recognized athletes.

Women increasingly enter education and employment.

Yet patriarchal control remains deeply entrenched.

Family honour continues to regulate female autonomy.

Marriage remains heavily controlled.

Social surveillance remains intense.

Violence persists.

The communist tradition has long argued that women's liberation cannot be treated as a secondary issue.

A society cannot become genuinely democratic while half its population remains constrained.

The struggle against patriarchy is not separate from the struggle against exploitation.

It is part of the same struggle.

"Every hierarchy seeks permanence. Every emancipatory movement seeks equality. The conflict between them is unavoidable."

Why Defeat Is Often Misunderstood

One reason people abandon political struggle is their misunderstanding of victory.

They expect immediate results.

Immediate transformations.

Immediate recognition.

History rarely works this way.

Marx died without witnessing socialist revolutions.

Ambedkar died before seeing the full constitutional promise realized.

Bhagat Singh never saw independence.

Rosa Luxemburg never saw socialism triumph.

Many great fighters for justice died believing their work remained incomplete.

Yet their efforts transformed future generations.

This is perhaps the deepest lesson embedded within Inderjeet Singh's words.

The revolutionary does not work only for his own lifetime.

He works for a future he may never personally witness.

That requires extraordinary faith.

Not religious faith.

Historical faith.

Faith that truth possesses greater endurance than power.

Faith that justice possesses greater legitimacy than privilege.

Faith that human beings eventually learn from suffering.

The Communist and Hope

The popular stereotype portrays communists as angry pessimists.

Reality often suggests the opposite.

Few people possess greater optimism than those who dedicate entire lives to social transformation.

Imagine believing that centuries of inequality can be overcome.

Imagine believing that ordinary people can govern themselves.

Imagine believing that workers, farmers, women, students, and marginalized communities can collectively build a better society.

Such beliefs require immense hope.

The communist may appear critical.

But criticism emerges from expectation.

One criticizes society because one believes society can become better.

Cynics expect nothing.

Revolutionaries expect everything.

That is why they continue despite setbacks.

That is why they continue despite defeats.

That is why they continue despite ridicule.

And that is why voices like Inderjeet Singh's remain relevant.

Because they remind us that struggle itself contains dignity.

When the Flowers Bloom

Perhaps the most profound misunderstanding of revolutionary politics lies in the assumption that success arrives suddenly.

It rarely does.

The flower blooms long before anyone notices.

It blooms when a young woman refuses imposed silence.

It blooms when a worker questions exploitation.

It blooms when a student challenges prejudice.

It blooms when caste boundaries weaken.

It blooms when communities discover solidarity.

It blooms when fear loses authority.

The bloom may remain invisible.

For years.

For decades.

Even generations.

Yet history accumulates such moments.

Eventually quantity becomes quality.

Small changes become large transformations.

What once appeared impossible becomes ordinary.

This is how history moves.

Not in straight lines.

But in contradictions.

Not without setbacks.

But not without progress.

And this is why the communist persists.

Because he understands something that cynics do not.

The future is not predetermined.

It is contested.

Toward the Dawn

The words of Inderjeet Singh are not an obituary for hope.

They are a declaration of endurance.

The forest flower blooms whether anyone notices or not.

Its existence itself is resistance.

Likewise, the communist organizer continues whether victory appears imminent or distant.

He organizes because exploitation exists.

He speaks because silence serves power.

He persists because surrender serves injustice.

And perhaps that is the ultimate meaning of his statement.

The flower may bloom.

The flower may wither.

History may advance slowly.

Society may resist change.

Defeats may accumulate.

But the struggle itself remains necessary.

Because every right enjoyed today emerged from someone who refused to stop fighting when success appeared impossible.

The village labourer.

The peasant rebel.

The trade unionist.

The feminist.

The student activist.

The anti-caste reformer.

The communist.

All belong to the same historical tradition.

The tradition of people who refused to accept the world as it was and insisted upon imagining the world as it could be.

That is why the voice may be dim.

But it remains piercing.

That is why the flower may appear alone.

But it continues to bloom.

And that is why, despite everything, hope survives.

For history has repeatedly demonstrated a simple truth:

The forces of privilege possess power.

But the forces of justice possess time.

And time, ultimately, belongs to those who refuse to surrender.

The Forest Flower and the Red Flag

There are people who make history.

There are people who write history.

And then there are those rare individuals who spend their entire lives trying to bend history toward justice, even when they know that history may never acknowledge their existence.

Inderjeet Singh belongs to the third category.

The modern world celebrates success.

It glorifies winners.

It worships power.

It measures achievement through wealth, offices, electoral victories, media visibility, and social prestige.

Yet history's most important struggles have rarely been led by those who possessed any of these things.

The great warriors of social transformation were often defeated repeatedly.

Many died poor.

Many died isolated.

Many died ridiculed.

Many died before witnessing even a fraction of the future they had dedicated their lives to creating.

The question, therefore, is not whether Inderjeet Singh won.

The question is whether he belonged to that long historical tradition of men and women who chose justice over convenience.

If the answer is yes, then he belongs in the company of the world's great social rebels, irrespective of whether history grants him recognition.

"The revolutionary is often judged by the present. History judges him by the future he helps create."

Why Haryana Produces Rebels and Conservatives Simultaneously

To understand the significance of Inderjeet Singh's life and philosophy, one must first understand Haryana itself.

Few regions in India embody contradiction as sharply as Haryana.

The state produces Olympic medalists and honour killings.

It produces modern industries and medieval social attitudes.

It produces immense agricultural wealth and deep social inequality.

It produces some of India's most courageous women athletes while simultaneously policing women's autonomy.

The same village may possess luxury SUVs and caste-based discrimination.

The same family may celebrate modern education while enforcing ancient hierarchies.

The same society may praise bravery while fearing social equality.

These contradictions are not accidental.

They emerge from the coexistence of modern economic development with deeply entrenched feudal social relations.

Marx observed that societies often carry remnants of previous historical epochs within themselves.

Haryana illustrates this phenomenon vividly.

Its economy increasingly belongs to modern capitalism.

Its social consciousness often remains partially feudal.

And within that contradiction lives the communist.

The Communist as an Outsider

Communists are frequently portrayed as outsiders.

In one sense, they are.

Not because they belong to a different society.

But because they refuse to accept society's dominant assumptions.

The communist enters a village and asks uncomfortable questions.

Why does one person own hundreds of acres while another owns none?

Why are some occupations associated with dignity and others with humiliation?

Why are women expected to sacrifice more than men?

Why do caste boundaries continue to define human worth?

Why does religion become a weapon against people whose economic interests are fundamentally similar?

Why do the poor repeatedly vote for policies that strengthen the powerful?

Such questions disturb the social order.

And every social order resists disturbance.

"The first act of rebellion is not protest. It is asking questions that power does not want answered."

The Loneliness of Political Work

One of the least understood aspects of activism is loneliness.

Observers see rallies.

They see speeches.

They see slogans.

They see public meetings.

What they do not see are the years between those moments.

The endless travel.

The repeated defeats.

The shrinking audiences.

The financial difficulties.

The emotional exhaustion.

The constant confrontation with apathy.

The realization that many people who agree privately remain silent publicly.

This loneliness is particularly severe in societies dominated by caste and patriarchal structures.

The activist often finds himself confronting not merely political opponents but inherited social assumptions.

Every village meeting becomes a battle against centuries.

Every conversation becomes a confrontation with history.

Every attempt at mobilization collides with deeply internalized prejudice.

Yet people like Inderjeet continue.

Why?

Because they understand a truth often forgotten by the comfortable.

Injustice survives not because it is morally superior.

It survives because it is organized.

Therefore justice must also become organized.

Learning from the Russian Revolution

The Russian Revolution remains one of the most consequential events of modern history.

Regardless of one's opinion of its outcomes, its significance is undeniable.

When Lenin and the Bolsheviks began their work, Russia was largely agrarian.

Illiteracy was widespread.

The peasantry constituted the majority.

Political repression was severe.

The possibility of revolution appeared remote.

Most educated observers considered socialist transformation impossible.

Yet within a few decades, a backward empire had been transformed into an industrial power capable of defeating Nazi Germany and sending human beings into space.

The lesson is not that every aspect of Soviet history should be replicated.

The lesson is that societies can change dramatically when ordinary people become politically conscious.

Lenin understood something crucial.

Revolutions are not produced by misery alone.

People can suffer for centuries without rebelling.

Revolutions emerge when suffering acquires political meaning.

This remains relevant in Haryana today.

Economic hardship exists.

Agrarian distress exists.

Unemployment exists.

Social inequality exists.

The challenge is transforming individual grievances into collective understanding.

That is precisely the work communists attempt to perform.

Telangana: India's Forgotten Red Dawn

If one seeks an Indian example, the Telangana Armed Struggle offers powerful lessons.

Between 1946 and 1951, peasants challenged feudal landlords under the Nizam's rule.

Millions participated.

Thousands sacrificed.

Women played extraordinary roles.

The struggle was not merely about land.

It was about dignity.

It was about ending arbitrary authority.

It was about dismantling feudal domination.

The movement demonstrated that even seemingly permanent power structures can be challenged.

More importantly, it showed that rural populations are not naturally conservative.

They become conservative or radical depending upon historical conditions.

The same peasantry capable of submission is also capable of rebellion.

The same village capable of conformity is also capable of transformation.

This remains true today.

"Every village contains two histories: the history of obedience and the history of resistance."

Bhagat Singh's Unfinished Question

Perhaps no revolutionary is more misappropriated in contemporary India than Bhagat Singh.

His image appears everywhere.

His ideas appear nowhere.

Bhagat Singh was not fighting merely for national independence.

He was fighting for social emancipation.

He feared that political freedom without economic equality would simply transfer power from foreign rulers to domestic elites.

His concern remains relevant.

What is freedom if hunger persists?

What is democracy if inequality dominates?

What is development if dignity remains absent?

What is nationalism if workers remain exploited?

These questions haunt modern India.

They haunt Haryana.

And they haunt every activist who refuses to confuse economic growth with social justice.

Caste: The Greatest Obstacle to Working-Class Unity

Marxists often emphasize class.

In India, however, class cannot be understood without caste.

Caste fragments potential solidarity.

It creates multiple hierarchies among people who share similar economic conditions.

A landless labourer may feel greater affinity toward a wealthy member of his caste than toward a worker from another caste.

This is politically significant.

Because it weakens collective action.

Dr. Ambedkar understood this clearly.

His critique remains indispensable.

A society divided by caste cannot easily unite around economic interests.

Therefore any meaningful emancipatory politics in India must confront caste directly.

Not as a secondary issue.

Not as a cultural issue.

But as a structural question.

Communists who ignore caste fail.

Anti-caste movements that ignore economic exploitation also face limitations.

The challenge is synthesis.

The challenge is building solidarity without erasing difference.

The challenge is constructing unity without denying historical injustice.

This remains one of the greatest unfinished tasks of Indian democracy.

Women and the Measure of Progress

No society becomes free while its women remain constrained.

The communist tradition has repeatedly insisted that women's liberation is central to social transformation.

This is particularly relevant in Haryana.

The control of women's choices remains deeply embedded in social structures.

Marriage.

Mobility.

Inheritance.

Public participation.

Personal autonomy.

Each becomes a site of negotiation and conflict.

The reactionary mindset fears women's freedom because freedom destabilizes hierarchy.

Every hierarchy depends upon obedience.

Every emancipatory movement depends upon autonomy.

Thus the struggle for women's rights is fundamentally a struggle over power itself.

"Patriarchy is feudalism inside the family."

Why Hope Persists

The remarkable feature of communists like Inderjeet Singh is not their criticism.

It is their optimism.

One cannot spend fifty years organizing workers and peasants without believing in humanity's capacity for change.

The cynic withdraws.

The revolutionary participates.

The cynic mocks.

The revolutionary organizes.

The cynic predicts failure.

The revolutionary creates possibility.

This distinction matters.

History advances because some people continue despite uncertainty.

Not because success is guaranteed.

But because surrender guarantees failure.

This is the deeper meaning hidden within Inderjeet's statement.

The flower blooms.

The flower withers.

Neither outcome changes the necessity of flowering.

Likewise, the activist struggles.

Victory may arrive.

Victory may not arrive.

Neither outcome changes the necessity of struggle.

Because struggle itself affirms human dignity.

The Communist's Inheritance

Communists inherit neither wealth nor privilege.

They inherit memory.

The memory of workers shot during strikes.

The memory of peasants evicted from land.

The memory of women resisting patriarchy.

The memory of students confronting authoritarianism.

The memory of anti-colonial rebels.

The memory of those who refused to accept injustice as destiny.

This inheritance is not material.

It is moral.

And moral inheritances often outlive empires.

The Meaning of the Forest Flower

Let us return to the sentence that inspired this reflection.

"What does it matter if the flowers of the forest bloom or wither?"

At first glance it sounds pessimistic.

In reality it is profoundly dialectical.

The flower blooms not because recognition is guaranteed.

The flower blooms because blooming is its nature.

Likewise, the revolutionary struggles not because victory is guaranteed.

The revolutionary struggles because resistance to injustice is a moral necessity.

The flower's significance does not depend upon applause.

The activist's significance does not depend upon electoral success.

Both derive meaning from existence itself.

That is the essence of Inderjeet Singh's philosophy.

And perhaps the essence of revolutionary politics itself.

The Men Who Plant Trees Under Whose Shade They Never Sit

There exists an old saying:

"Society grows great when old men plant trees under whose shade they know they shall never sit."

The same can be said of revolutionary politics.

The communist often works for a future he may never witness.

He organizes workers whose grandchildren may enjoy the benefits.

He challenges caste whose complete destruction may require generations.

He confronts patriarchy whose defeat may remain incomplete throughout his lifetime.

He fights because the struggle is necessary.

Not because the reward is immediate.

In this sense, Inderjeet Singh represents something larger than an individual.

He represents a tradition.

A tradition stretching from Marx and Engels to Lenin and Rosa Luxemburg.

From Bhagat Singh and Ambedkar to the unnamed workers and peasants who fought for dignity.

A tradition that refuses surrender.

A tradition that believes humanity deserves better than exploitation.

A tradition that persists even when isolated.

A tradition that continues even when history appears hostile.

And therefore, when Inderjeet Singh says:

"What does it matter if the flowers of the forest bloom or wither?"

One hears not despair.

One hears courage.

One hears endurance.

One hears the quiet confidence of a man who knows that history moves slowly, but it moves.

And that somewhere, beyond the horizon of the present, the seeds planted by forgotten fighters will eventually become forests.

The Soil Beneath the Slogan: Haryana's Contradictions and the Quiet Persistence of Revolution

"The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born: now is the time of monsters."


— Antonio Gramsci

The true measure of a political philosophy is not how it behaves during victory.

Its true character emerges during periods of defeat.

When crowds disappear.

When elections are lost.

When movements fragment.

When comrades grow old.

When society appears indifferent.

That is precisely the moment when one begins to understand people like Inderjeet Singh.

For more than half a century, communist politics in Haryana has survived in circumstances that would have extinguished many other ideological traditions. It has survived not because it commands state power. It has survived not because it controls institutions. It has survived because the conditions that produced it continue to exist.

The language changes.

The rulers change.

The parties change.

But exploitation remains astonishingly adaptable.

And nowhere is this more visible than in Haryana.

Haryana: Prosperity's Unfinished Story

To outsiders, Haryana appears prosperous.

The state is often celebrated as the poster child of India's Green Revolution.

Its highways are modern.

Its villages possess tractors, harvesters, SUVs, and increasingly sophisticated infrastructure.

Its athletes win international medals.

Its farmers contribute enormously to India's food security.

Its industrial belts generate substantial wealth.

Yet beneath this image lies another Haryana.

A Haryana where land ownership remains highly unequal.

A Haryana where agricultural indebtedness continues to grow.

A Haryana where rural youth increasingly face unemployment despite education.

A Haryana where women continue to negotiate the constraints of patriarchy.

A Haryana where caste remains one of the most important determinants of social life.

This contradiction is not accidental.

It reflects the peculiar trajectory of capitalist development in North India.

The Green Revolution increased production.

It did not eliminate hierarchy.

The market expanded.

Social democracy did not.

Technology advanced.

Human relationships often remained trapped in older structures.

As Marx observed, economic development alone cannot guarantee social liberation.

The machine can transform production.

It cannot transform consciousness.

"The tragedy of modern Haryana is not that it failed to become prosperous. The tragedy is that prosperity did not automatically produce equality."

Khap and Democracy: Two Competing Visions of Authority

Few institutions reveal this contradiction more clearly than the Khap.

Its defenders present it as a custodian of community values.

Its critics see it as the surviving architecture of feudal authority.

The truth lies in understanding its historical function.

The Khap emerged in a period when modern democratic institutions did not exist.

It organized collective life.

It resolved disputes.

It coordinated social affairs.

But history creates new standards.

The question is no longer whether the Khap once performed useful functions.

The question is whether unelected social authority should continue exercising influence over the personal freedoms of citizens in a constitutional democracy.

This is where the communist critique becomes relevant.

The issue is not culture.

The issue is power.

Every hierarchy eventually claims cultural legitimacy.

Every structure of domination presents itself as tradition.

Every privilege seeks historical justification.

The communist asks a simple question:

Who benefits?

Who decides?

Who obeys?

Who suffers?

These questions often reveal realities hidden beneath cultural rhetoric.

The Workers Nobody Sees

Haryana's economic success rests not only upon landowners and industrialists.

It rests upon labour.

The invisible army that constructs roads.

Builds factories.

Harvests crops.

Loads trucks.

Produces wealth.

And yet remains largely absent from public discourse.

Walk through the industrial belts of Faridabad, Gurugram, Manesar, Panipat, Yamunanagar, Sonipat, or Bahadurgarh.

One encounters thousands of contract workers.

Temporary labourers.

Migrant workers.

Casual employees.

Men and women whose lives remain precarious despite their contribution to economic growth.

The communist movement's insistence upon labour rights emerges from this reality.

The worker remains indispensable.

Yet often remains powerless.

The contradiction remains unresolved.

Migration and the New Working Class

One of the most significant transformations in Haryana has been the growth of migrant labour.

Workers from Bihar, Uttar Pradesh, Jharkhand, Chhattisgarh, Odisha, and West Bengal now constitute an essential component of the state's economy.

Yet their presence also reveals the limits of regional prosperity.

The factories cannot function without them.

The construction industry depends upon them.

Agriculture increasingly relies upon them.

Yet they frequently remain socially marginalized.

Politically voiceless.

Economically vulnerable.

Marx would have immediately recognized this phenomenon.

Capital requires labour mobility.

But societies often resist social equality.

Thus the worker becomes economically necessary but socially expendable.

This contradiction remains one of the defining features of modern capitalism.

"The worker builds the city yet rarely owns a room within it."

The Farmers' Movement and the Return of Collective Memory

The Farmers' Movement of 2020–21 was perhaps the most significant democratic mobilization in contemporary India.

Its importance extended beyond the farm laws.

For a brief period, it reminded people of something that neoliberal politics had spent decades attempting to erase:

Collective action works.

Farmers occupied highways.

Organized kitchens.

Built libraries.

Conducted discussions.

Created democratic spaces.

Sustained solidarity for more than a year.

The movement demonstrated that ordinary people remain capable of extraordinary political maturity.

For communists, the movement carried particular significance.

It revived the language of class, exploitation, and collective struggle.

Words that had gradually disappeared beneath the noise of television nationalism.

Most importantly, it demonstrated that economic questions cannot be permanently suppressed.

Eventually they return.

Because hunger returns.

Debt returns.

Unemployment returns.

And when they return, politics must confront them.

Women Wrestlers and the Politics of Courage

The movement led by India's women wrestlers provided another revealing moment.

These women represented the very image of modern Haryana.

Athletes.

International medalists.

Symbols of national pride.

Yet when they challenged entrenched power, they encountered resistance from the same structures that had celebrated their achievements.

The episode exposed a deeper truth.

Patriarchy does not disappear merely because women succeed.

Indeed, successful women often become its most visible targets.

The communist movement has historically argued that women's liberation cannot be treated as a secondary question.

The experience of Haryana's women repeatedly confirms this argument.

Economic progress without gender justice remains incomplete.

Political democracy without gender equality remains unfinished.

"Every woman who refuses silence weakens a structure centuries older than herself."

Caste: The Great Divider

No discussion of Haryana can ignore caste.

Indeed, caste remains the single greatest obstacle to the emergence of broad democratic solidarity.

Its genius lies in its ability to fragment people whose economic interests often overlap.

The landless worker and the small farmer may share common economic concerns.

Yet caste encourages them to view each other through inherited social boundaries.

The result is political fragmentation.

This is precisely why both Marx and Ambedkar remain essential.

Marx explains exploitation.

Ambedkar explains exclusion.

Together they provide perhaps the most powerful framework for understanding contemporary India.

Any politics that ignores class becomes economically superficial.

Any politics that ignores caste becomes socially blind.

The future belongs to movements capable of addressing both simultaneously.

Why Communists Continue

Critics frequently ask why communists persist despite electoral weakness.

The answer is remarkably simple.

Because the problems they identified continue to exist.

Workers remain exploited.

Farmers remain indebted.

Women remain unequal.

Caste remains powerful.

Wealth remains concentrated.

Public resources continue moving into private hands.

The forms change.

The substance remains.

Communists continue because history continues producing the conditions that make communist questions relevant.

Their voice may be smaller.

Their organizations may be weaker.

Their influence may fluctuate.

But the realities they describe remain stubbornly present.

And reality possesses a way of eventually demanding attention.

Inderjeet Singh and the Politics of Endurance

This is where we return to Inderjeet Singh.

His importance does not lie primarily in electoral achievements.

His importance lies in endurance.

He represents a generation that refused to abandon the possibility of social transformation despite witnessing repeated setbacks.

He belongs to a tradition that understands politics not as an event but as a process.

Not as a sprint.

But as a relay race.

Each generation carries the baton for a while.

Then passes it forward.

The communist does not expect to complete history.

He merely hopes to move it a little further.

That is why Inderjeet's metaphor resonates so deeply.

The flower blooms.

The flower withers.

Another blooms.

The forest survives.

Likewise, activists come and go.

Movements rise and decline.

Organizations weaken and recover.

But the struggle for justice persists.

Because injustice persists.

And because somewhere, in every generation, there are people unwilling to accept exploitation as destiny.

Toward a Different Haryana

The future of Haryana will not be decided merely by elections.

It will be decided by deeper questions.

Can caste yield to citizenship?

Can patriarchy yield to equality?

Can competition yield to solidarity?

Can economic growth be accompanied by social justice?

Can democracy move beyond voting toward genuine participation?

These questions remain open.

Their answers remain unwritten.

But history suggests one thing with certainty.

No society changes without those willing to challenge it.

And no challenge succeeds without those willing to endure.

That is the legacy of Inderjeet Singh.

Not certainty.

Not triumph.

But endurance.

The stubborn refusal to surrender hope.

The quiet confidence that history remains unfinished.

And the belief that somewhere beneath the hard soil of the present, the seeds of a more equal future continue waiting for rain.

References

1. Marx, Karl and Engels, Friedrich. The Communist Manifesto.

2. Marx, Karl. Capital, Volume I.

3. Lenin, V.I. State and Revolution.

4. Gramsci, Antonio. Selections from the Prison Notebooks.

5. Ambedkar, B.R. Annihilation of Caste.

6. Bhagat Singh. Why I Am an Atheist and Other Writings.

7. Gail Omvedt. Dalits and the Democratic Revolution: Dr Ambedkar and the Dalit Movement in Colonial India.

8. A.R. Desai. Rural Sociology in India.

9. D.N. Dhanagare. Peasant Movements in India, 1920–1950.

10. Utsa Patnaik. The Agrarian Question and Development of Capitalism in India.

11. E.M.S. Namboodiripad. History of Indian Freedom Struggle.

12. Irfan Habib. Essays in Indian History: Towards a Marxist Perception.

13. Surinder S. Jodhka. Caste in Contemporary India.

14. Bina Agarwal. A Field of One's Own: Gender and Land Rights in South Asia.

15. Nivedita Menon. Seeing Like a Feminist.

16. P. Sainath. Everybody Loves a Good Drought.

17. Jean Drèze and Amartya Sen. An Uncertain Glory: India and Its Contradictions.

18. Reports and publications of the All India Kisan Sabha (AIKS) on agrarian distress and farmers' movements.

19. Economic and Political Weekly (selected articles on Haryana, Khap Panchayats, caste, agrarian change, labour migration, and the 2020–21 Farmers' Movement).

20. Speeches, interviews, pamphlets, and public interventions of Inderjeet Singh on peasant struggles, workers' rights, social justice, and democratic transformation in Haryana.

(Closing Note

This essay is inspired by the lifelong struggles of workers, peasants, women, students, and social activists who continue to challenge exploitation, caste oppression, patriarchy, and inequality despite adversity, believing that the struggle for a just and humane society is itself an act of hope.)