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As I move away from the massive kisan (farmers and peasants) assemblage at the Singhu border between the province of Haryana and Delhi, a heavy drizzle starts to add to my misery in the bone-chilling cold of late Indian winter. I plan to drive along several narrow link roads to gain access to the otherwise blocked NH 44 highway, and then to move into the city en route to the airport.

Soon I have to stop as the car is surrounded by several dozen Sikh kisan. They come bearing not only pennants, flags and festoons as souvenirs of my stay, but touchingly, pots of home-cooked food: they remain curiously bare-chested even as the icy rain persists.

Asked why, their aged mukhiya (village head) informs me that the entire gathering would sing and dance in the fierce wintry downpour and shout slogans for a couple of hours to show the jan-virodhi (anti-people) Modi government that “even nature could not cow them down.”

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