Union commerce minister Piyush Goyal mentioned on Saturday (February 7) that India has safeguarded its “sensitive” sectors in the interim India–US trade deal, insisting that no duty concessions have been extended to millets such as jowar, bajra, ragi, and kodo. But does this claim honestly align with Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s oft-repeated invocations of “Shree Anna” in various fora – and his assertion that his forceful advocacy ensured global recognition for millets, culminating in the United Nations declaring 2023 as the International Year of Millets?Against the backdrop of a protracted tug-of-war between Indian and US negotiators over the past few years, Modi began drumbeating his “innovative” initiatives to promote millets. He projected them as climate-friendly, resilient crops which are a promising boon for farmers.Yet the question remains: will this dispensation’s publicity blitzkrieg actually revive and restore production of madua, sanyi, kodo, saathi, tangun, jowar, bajra, and other coarse grains that once formed the backbone of agriculture and culture – particularly in Bihar and eastern Uttar Pradesh – but quietly vanished from farms in the wake of the Green Revolution?In fact, Modi’s, Mulayam Singh Yadav’s and Lalu Prasad Yadav’s contemporaries who pursued education and migrated to cities as professionals, educators, civil servants, and technocrats, would often return to their villages simply to eat roti made of madua, jowar, or bajra, and bhaat (steamed rice) of sanyi, kodo, tangun, and saathi. They missed these millet meals in the cities and craved them. That craving drew them back to their roots once a year or so. Despite their migration into white-collar urban lives, this generation carried a lived memory of millet food. Food for stomach versus rhythm of lifeTheir third or fourth generation descendants devoid of lived memory and settled in cities might have some sense about these folk foods from the storybooks and, to some extent, from Facebook and Instagram reels. They may find Modi’s ‘boasts’ about millets as romantic or somewhat attractive and innovative too. They might be buying these millets in malls and mega marts flourishing on multinational corporations’ supply chain.But having being born, brought up and grown practicing agriculture for a large part of his life in a remote village, close to the Bihar-Uttar Pradesh border comprising Parvanchal, this writer still carries the memory of how the villagers would light Diwali diyas with kodo hays and how the peasant women sprouted jayee (a variant of barley) to crown the kalash during Ramnavami puja.Kodo hay was a light to the festival of Diwali and jayee sprouts a jewel to Kali Mai or Maiya during Ramnavami. Millets were not merely food for the stomach; they were woven into village lore, ritual, and daily labour. They shaped the rhythm of seasons and the grammar of faith. Tisi (Flax) versus soybeanIn the context of the interim India–US trade framework – still in formative stages and opaque despite Piyush Goyal’s repeated claims of clarity – farmers and farm groups in India are rightly anxious. Their concern is simple: cheaper imported soybean oil could depress domestic oilseed prices and further squeeze Indian soybean growers, many of whom are already receiving market prices well below the MSP (Minimum Support Price).There is, of course, nothing inherently wrong with soybean. It is a rich source of plant protein, heart-healthy fats, isoflavones, and fibre. Soybean originated in East Asia – China, Korea, and Japan – some 6,000 to 9,000 years ago. But it was the United States and Brazil that adopted it aggressively, protected it through policy, subsidised it for decades, and scaled it into a dominant global commodity. Today, soybean is a cornerstone of the US agricultural supply chain – largely owned, managed, and pushed by big corporations into the markets of the developing world.But the question India must ask is different: what happened to alsi – flaxseed?Also read: Why Trump’s Executive Order on India’s Stoppage of Russian Crude has Serious ConsequencesWhat is known as tisi in Purvanchal is called alsi in western Uttar Pradesh, Delhi, and other parts of the Hindi heartland. Nutritionally, flaxseed is superior in several respects – richer in omega-3 fatty acids and fibre, and comparable to soybean in its amino-acid profile. Yet tisi, along with mustard, once the primary source of edible oil in Purvanchal, has almost vanished from the agrarian landscape since the 1970s due to sustained neglect, lack of protection, and absence of policy support.In village life, tisi was more than an oilseed. Pooris fried in tisi oil and desi ghee were offered as prasad to deities and served to priests and relatives. Its tiny, round pod doubled as a plaything – children spun it on the floor, watching it whirl, laughing as it danced. It belonged to food, ritual, and childhood alike.Above all, tisi was perfectly suited to the climate, soil, and ecology of Bihar and Uttar Pradesh – grown not because of market signals, but because it made agrarian sense. Honest solutions, not slogansIt would be unfair to blame the Modi–led dispensation alone for the dramatic decline of coarse grains and traditional oilseeds from Indian farms. The empirical history of millets shows that India consciously prioritised increasing foodgrain output – primarily rice, wheat, and sugarcane – to stave off famine, leading to the Green Revolution of the 1960s and 1970s.Before their disappearance, millets such as madua, kodo, sanyi, tangun, jowar, bajra, and saathi were collectively known as bhadayin – crops sown in Bhado (August–September). They acted as a crucial buffer between Rabi crops like wheat and barley harvested in March–April, and Kharif crops – mainly paddy – harvested in Agahan (November–December).As these millets declined, local seeds were lost and farming knowledge faded. Older generations who knew how to sow, thresh, dehull, and process them passed away. These grains demanded manual labour – cleaning, pounding, grinding – and as rural labour patterns changed, incentives to grow such labour-intensive crops disappeared.This history offers a clear lesson: revival cannot be achieved through publicity blitzkriegs or emotive narratives alone. It requires grounded, patient policy – crafted with the involvement of genuine policymakers and agricultural experts rooted in local agrarian ethos and culture.Ironically, this is precisely what the US has done quietly over decades: sustained incentives to farmers, long-term protection, and layered safeguards. That silent policy discipline has enabled it to leverage the markets of developing countries like India to its advantage.There is no shortcut. If India wants a level playing field with the US, it must do the hard, unglamorous work – crop by crop, village by village. Revival will come not from slogans, but from soil-deep effort.Nalin Verma is a New Delhi based journalist, author and folklorist.