Hazy scene in ‘dreamland’ Jagraon

Minna Zutshi

The chaos on the roads is a sure sign that one’s entered Jagraon town. For an outsider on a smoggy November morning, it seems as if the entire town is on the move. Posters of Aapna Punjab Party leader Sucha Singh Chhotepur dot the walls near the Police Lines — they are unimposing, and perhaps reassuring for that reason alone.

The stately statue of Rani of Jhansi Laxmi Bai stands sentinel to the vicissitudes of life as one crosses the main bazaar.

Posters and billboards on IELTS courses are all over. “Foreign” is a much-loved word in Jagraon and the people here are willing to spend truckloads of money to get an “NRI” tag. Almost posing a stiff competition to the posters selling foreign dreams are the posters of Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) candidate Sarvjit Kaur Manuke. “Yes, ‘Aam Party’ posters dot Jagraon,” says a shopkeeper, without much ado.

The town has a historical significance. Freedom fighter Lala Lajpat Rai’s ancestral house is a silent reminder of the bygone era, when the country was struggling hard to throw off the foreign yoke.

A walk through the narrow lanes leads to localities that, by default, have a less frenetic pace of life. A middle-aged woman “mans” a tiny shop that sells knick-knacks. She’s happy to start her morning with a sale and small talk. As the conversation shifts to elections, she asks: “Tussi jharoo? (You’re from the party that has broom as its symbol?)” When told no, she’s not keen to continue. A bit more prodding and she says: “What elections? Our house is still awaiting renovation. What have the leaders done for our welfare?”

As my colleague tries to click her photo, she steps back and almost hides behind the counter. She’s undecided when told that there’s nothing to be panicky about, and moves halfway into the frame. “Jey aes de naal kissay da bhala hunda haiy, taan khich lo (If clicking my picture helps, then go ahead).”

We walk down to a street that has a Valmiki temple. By now the sun is somewhat stronger, though the smoggy haze remains. An aged woman is sitting outside her home. At a little distance, a man is reading a Punjabi newspaper. Namkeen, biscuits and other packed food items are spread on a charpoy. “It’s all Mata’s (mother’s),” he says, referring to his neighbour. “The people are not happy with the political leaders. Drugs and corruption rule the roost,” he says, before shifting his attention to the media. Media has started pandering to the baser instincts of the people, he says. For us, elections is the subject of discussion. For him, the media.

Back to our taxi, we halt at the newly-inaugurated AAP office on a busy road in Jagraon. Candidate Sarvjit Kaur has already left the venue, but the volunteers are eager to make the “right impression” — they offer us a plateful of snacks that we politely refuse.

We meet a college student, Harpreet Singh. “Don’t expect any heated political discussions in the colleges here. But drugs, development (lack of it, he specifies) and corruption do figure when we do talk,” he sums it up.

Demonetisation, rather its implementation, is a big issue. A trader, Subhash, reveals that his weekly sale has reduced to one-third. “It’s tough,” he says.

In the villages, the two burning issues are demonetisation and paddy stubble burning. Village women we meet are reluctant to talk on politics, afraid that their opinion might go wrong! But they are aggressively forthcoming on the defunct currency. Kulwinder Kaur from Rauwal village says the common people are suffering, while the well-heeled are using their influence to exchange the scrapped currency. “There’s no cash in the village banks. We have to go to the (Jagraon) town and stand in queues for hours together. And there, too, when our turn comes, the bank runs out of cash,” she complains.

At Barsal village, Harinder Singh is sitting near his cattle that are lazily munching green fodder. After enquiring about the purpose of our visit, he offers us chairs. “What’s happening? Debt-ridden farmers are committing suicide. The government has failed miserably to ease the farmers’ burden. Capt Amarinder Singh says he’ll waive the farmers’ debt. How’ll he do it? If it were so easy, Badal could have done it.” He pauses, takes a look at his cattle, and continues: “Gundagardi (lawlessness) hai saarey Punjab ’ch. Kler (Jagraon Akali MLA Shiv Ram Kaler) nuu asi kehta heygaa ki pind ’ch na aayeen (we have told Kler not to dare visit our village).”

Does he mean that the political scenario is bleak? “Vote taan khuh ’ch sutti — eh mann ke challo. Aam Party daa zor taan kehnde ne. Horaan nuu vekh leyaa. Ohna nu vi ik vaari vekh liyaange (Think that you have thrown your vote down the drain. It’s being said that Aam Aadmi Party is doing well. We have ‘seen’ other parties. Now this party can be given a chance).”

A youngish woman, Harinder Kaur, busy making cow dung cakes, echoes similar sentiments. Gurbax Singh, a village granthi, is critical of the Akali Dal on its stand on “Sarbat Khalsa”. “The Akalis did precious little to stop the sacrilege incidents,” he says.

The sun is getting feeble. A wintry nip is perceptible. So is the smog that’s more pronounced now. Fields are ablaze — paddy stubble has been set afire. Our taxi takes a detour. We are now in Dakha constituency and large posters of Akali legislator Manpreet Singh Ayali greet us. But that’s another story.