And at the center of it all was , a man whose name was heavier than a loaded trolley. Broad-shouldered, with a turban tied sharp as a blade, Hakam was known for three things: his word, his wrath, and his white SUV with tinted windows that announced his arrival like a drumroll.

The village elders raised their glasses of lassi . Somewhere, a wedding song played. And Hakam Singh drove his white SUV back home, windows down, letting the dust of his land settle on his shoulders.

“And,” Hakam added, “Guri will farm that land himself for one season. To remember the weight of soil.”

Surti laughed nervously. “You think you’re a king?”

By morning, the entire district was watching. Surti called the police. But the police knew: arresting Hakam Singh meant 200 tractors blocking the highway.