Punjab Farmers Enter Lohri Amid Monsoon Devastation and Policy Pressure

Remember the recent Parle-G advertisement around Lohri? That of a father who is leaving his land and moving to Canada for employment due to constant losses and the uncertainty of the agricultural sector in Punjab? Somehow, in the ad, all the adversities are turned right, but the reality is far worse for the farmers of Punjab who had lost everything this past monsoon.

As bonfires flicker across Punjab and Haryana this Lohri on 13 January, the traditional celebration feels markedly different. For countless farmers across North India's breadbasket, the festival arrives amid unprecedented hardship: devastating monsoon floods that ravaged their fields just months ago, stringent stubble-burning penalties that threaten their livelihoods, and a winter shrouded in pollution and uncertainty. 

What was once a joyous harvest celebration now carries the weight of profound loss and systemic failure.

The Floods That Destroyed Dreams

The 2025 monsoon brought the worst flooding to Punjab in nearly 4 decades. Between August and September, approximately 1,400 villages across 13 districts were submerged as the Ravi, Beas and Sutlej rivers swelled beyond their banks. Over 148,000 hectares of agricultural land, particularly ready-to-harvest paddy crops, disappeared beneath floodwaters that would linger for weeks. Approximately 51 lives were lost, 1,000 large livestock and 35,000 poultry perished, and over 384,000 people were displaced.

Gurvinder Singh, a 47-year-old farmer from Gurdaspur, had invested heavily in three acres of high-yielding pearl Basmati rice. A good harvest would have earned him nearly one million rupees per acre. Instead, by October, his crop lay buried beneath layers of silt. As preparations for Lohri, one of the most important harvest festivals of Punjab, Haryana, and much of North India, begin, we talked to him again, asking about his current whereabouts and more. "I could not afford that shocking flood at that time," he told us, his voice heavy with despair. 

“I had taken debts from moneylenders to enable better seeds for a better harvest this year. I had saved money to ensure profits this year with a better quality yield. But all was gone in a flash. All my hard work, all my land, everything. The land hasn’t even dried properly. What will I even harvest? We are all going to a community Lohri event, all having lost everything we had. This year, Lohri won’t be about happiness, joy, and blessings, but rather a lament to what we all lost, and what we will do now that the fields have dried and repairing of the land would need to be done.”

As waters have now receded, farmers have confronted their fertile fields transformed into mounds of silt; 95 per cent soil, only 5 per cent sand. Jobanjeet Singh, a friend of Gurvinder from Hardowal village, whom we connected over a call through Gurvinder, who has used up his savings to accelerate the drying, land repair and more work to pace his produce, faced costs ballooning to Rs. 20000 per acre for initial cultivation, plus Rs. 6000 per acre for specialised equipment. Government compensation of Rs. 20000 per acre, Rs. 2 lakh overall for victim families, for complete loss, seems woefully inadequate now.

Environmental researcher, Mansi Asher, paints a grim picture: "There is excessive sedimentation and mud on farmers' fields. Another problem is levelling the field, which is another cost, and readying it for the next season." She warns that wheat production could fall by at least 15 per cent. With urea stocks plummeting from 8.64 million tonnes to 3.71 million tonnes and global prices surging from $400 to $530 per tonne, farmers will soon face a fertiliser crisis too.

This Lohri, traditionally celebrating the ripening of rabi crops, wheat and mustard, arrives with fields still recovering from devastation. 

The Stubble Burning Paradox

Against this backdrop of flood-induced devastation, farmers now navigate an increasingly punitive regulatory environment around stubble burning. Following Supreme Court criticism of lacklustre enforcement, both central and state governments have dramatically escalated penalties. Farmers with less than two acres face fines of Rs. 5,000 per incident; those with two to five acres, Rs. 10,000; and farmers with more than five acres, up to Rs. 30,000. For many already reeling from monsoon losses, these penalties represent financial ruin.

Bhagwanta Singh, a farmer from Patiala, was fined Rs. 2 lakhs under various charges. He gave us extra context behind the scenario. “In July-August 2025, many farmers of my village and other surrounding areas like Fatehgarh and more, faced immense losses due to this China virus (Southern Rice Black-streaked Dwarf Virus (SRBSDV)), and I had to remove 7 acres of paddy from my field and re-sow quickly so that I can yield anything by harvest time and before moisture content in climate peaks. In haste, I burnt all the stubble generated from me removing the wasted paddy. I was fined heavily and even had to bribe authorities. Neither did I get compensation for the loss due to the virus, and with floods I was able to sow nothing. I have nothing to rely on other than the government compensation for floods.”

Bhagwanta’s case narrates the story of Punjab of the early and late monsoon period, first marked by a virus resurgence, then heavy floods and now loss compounded with everything. Lohri for farmers like him, as he said, “doesn’t even exist this year.”

A spokesperson from Bharatiya Kisan Union (Shaheed Bhagat Singh) told us a stark ultimatum: "The government has issued directions to register FIRs and impose environmental compensation on farmers who burn paddy residue. But it hasn't been providing adequate incentives and machinery for crop residue management. Farmers need to prepare their fields for the next crop. Hence, we have asked the government to lift the residue within five days of issuing a gate pass; otherwise, farmers will be forced to burn it."

As families gather around Lohri's bonfire this year, traditionally offering sesame seeds, jaggery and peanuts to the flames whilst singing folk songs about Dulla Bhatti, the legendary Robin Hood of Punjab who rescued the poor from oppression, today's farmers feel not rescued but abandoned. 

The warmth of Lohri's flames cannot dispel the chill of uncertainty that has settled over Punjab and Haryana. The farmers who feed nations find themselves caught between nature's fury and policy's rigidity, between floods that destroy their livelihoods and fines that criminalise their survival strategies. This year, Lohri for these farmers feels less like a celebration and more like a vigil for a way of life under siege.