Across delivery rooms in India, whether in public or private hospitals, newborns are increasingly being fed formula as their first meal, often without parental consent. This trend is not accidental. From the lack of institutional and infrastructural support for breastfeeding, to marketing by formula brands, to healthcare professionals advocating for formula milk (FM), infant formula is on the rise in India. This reality unfolds even as it poses deep threats to child health, maternal well-being, and inevitably, public nutrition.
A report from The News Minute details the experience of Vidya Sanap, a 32-year old researcher at IIT Bombay, who was eager to breastfeed after a C-section delivery, but when she asked the nursing staff for help, she was chided. “Your breast milk won’t run out if you don’t feed immediately,”—this is how Sanap remembers the nurses’ response. Another report in Quartz talks about another new mother’s first experience with breastfeeding: Sanika Chawla had delivered a healthy boy at a private hospital in Bengaluru. However, she didn’t get to hold him for several hours. Much to her chagrin, he had already been fed formula for his first meal.
These are just some among numerous examples in maternity wards, where babies are being whisked away by nursing staff and initiated on formula, against the mother’s wishes. What drives this breastfeeding-versus-formula turf war across Indian infant care?
The World Health Organization (WHO) recommends that infants be exclusively breastfed (EBF) for the first six months. Continued breastfeeding is recommended until a child turns two, with complementary foods being introduced after six months. Medical research has drawn countless links between early breastfeeding and its positive impact on both infant and maternal health. Lactation experts confirm that colostrum—the thick yellow liquid that is produced by the mother during pregnancy—is loaded with antibodies and immunoglobulins that boost infant immunity.
UNICEF advocates breastfeeding within the first hour of birth, but government data shows that only about 42% of all Indian babies have that healthy start.
Mothers also transmit good bacteria, which live in the infant’s gut, helping digest food and boosting their immune system. Breastfeeding significantly lowers infant mortality and risks of gastrointestinal disease and obesity in later life. Additionally, mothers who breastfeed have lowered chances of ovarian and breast cancer, Type 2 diabetes and cardiovascular disease. This is especially pertinent in countries like India with high rates of infant and neonatal mortality—27 infant deaths and 19 neonatal deaths for every 1000 live births in 2021.
UNICEF advocates breastfeeding within the first hour of birth, but government data shows that only about 42% of all Indian babies have that healthy start. There are legitimate reasons as to why breastfeeding isn’t always a viable option; not every newborn takes to the nipple immediately, or has a breastfeeding mother. Sometimes, new mothers also experience lactation failure.
The early makers of infant formula recognised this. The first known commercial infant formula was a cow milk-based formula made by chemist Justus von Liebig in Germany in 1865. Until then, many gave their infants other substitutes like homemade evaporated milk, and ‘pap’, a bread-and-water mush, from hard-to-clean utensils teeming with bacteria. Others employed wet nurses—women who were responsible for breastfeeding another’s child. Death rates were alarmingly high in the early 1800s, only two in three babies who weren't breastfed completed the age of one. The timing of Liebig's formula was opportune, and the appeal quickly spread beyond just women who couldn’t breastfeed. Liebig’s Soluble Food for babies (comprising primarily cow’s milk, wheat and malt flour and potassium bicarbonate) made commercial formula accessible and affordable.
Physicians in the 1960s and ‘70s (especially in the Global North) also began recommending these commercial formulas, making them more popular among mothers. However, an important detail to note here is that infant formula was developed as a substitute for breast milk, specifically for mothers who couldn’t breastfeed. Bridging a gap in infant nutrition was Liebig’s primary motive behind the development of formula.
And so it went, for a while: it seems like formula milk was mostly used on a case-by-case basis. What changed? What led to the formula boom?
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For one, the introduction of formula dramatically transformed the workplace. For many new mothers who want to, or must return to work, formula is a lifeline—especially when taking extended time away can come at a real cost to their careers. Several studies mention that earning gaps increase after mothers return to the workplace once their maternity leaves end. One mother says formula helped both her and her baby adapt to a work routine: “I had to go back to work in three months, so I started topping up with formula in two months so that my supply would temper and my baby would get used to the bottle.”
According to the WHO, the global formula milk industry was worth $55 billion in 2022. It has also found that global breastfeeding rates have increased very little in the last two decades. Meanwhile, the sale of formula milk has more than doubled in the same period.
Evolution has carefully fine-tuned the ‘recipe’ for breast milk to optimise for both maternal and infant health. Infant formula is a manufactured breast-milk substitute, available in liquid or powder form. However, infants' intestines are not naturally designed to digest these, lactation consultant Manisha Gogri says. Different compositions make up different infant formula. A series of articles published by The Lancet in 2016 lists the risks, which include more episodes of diarrhoea and respiratory infection. Companies that make formula claim that long chain polyunsaturated fatty acids in formula milk are involved in the development of the brain, eyes and the nervous system. However, these statements have little substantiation in scientific literature.
India has one of the most stringent laws in the world against breast milk substitutes, detailed in the Indian Milk Substitutes (IMS) Act, enacted in 1992 and enforced in 1993. The Act regulates the production, promotion, and distribution of infant milk substitutes by prohibiting advertising, point-of-sale promotions, and free samples, while placing stringent labeling requirements on these products as well. It also restricts health workers and institutions from providing biased information. Despite this, under the pretext of offering a substitute in cases of “low breast milk supply,” a multimillion-dollar industry thrives, claiming to calm crying or fussiness and to keep babies more satiated.
However, the idea of new mothers having a ‘low breast milk supply’ may very well be a myth. In a detailed report from The Wire, Dr. Arun Gupta, chairman of Breastfeeding Promotion Network of India (BPNI), a national NGO to promote healthy breastfeeding practices, says that a mother can usually produce enough milk to feed her baby, but it is often a challenge to bring the supply forth and nurse the baby. A host of other factors affect this process: milk production and flow depends—the more a baby breastfeeds, the greater the demand for milk in the mother’s body. Suckling activates nerves that signal the body to release prolactin and oxytocin. Prolactin triggers the alveoli to produce milk, while oxytocin makes the tiny muscles contract, pushing milk from the alveoli into the ducts. The release of oxytocin is also sensitive to a mother’s mental state. Dr. Gupta says that predatory tactics by formula makers disrupt this, pushing mothers into believing they cannot produce enough. Since breast milk supply is contingent on how much the baby feeds, introducing formula also affects it.
India has one of the most stringent laws in the world against breast milk substitutes, detailed in the Indian Milk Substitutes (IMS) Act
In India, especially, women face heightened familial and social scrutiny on their choice to nurse and/or introduce formula. A blog outlines how this new mother felt cloistered by her family while feeding: “Every session of breastfeeding (basically, every two hours) was slowly unravelling into a nightmare, where I felt I had no control. My female relatives would surround the bed, one of them holding the baby, and others pressing my nipple and commenting on my milk supply. My husband and I felt very helpless,” she says.
“I was under tremendous stress and … unable to generate enough milk for my son, who was subsequently fed only cow milk and formula,” another mother says. Surveys have found how over 50% of nursing mothers cite both physical and emotional breastfeeding woes, including sore nipples and irritated skin, a reason why they may turn to formula, especially if they have more than one child. These stories have themes in common: mothers feel like they do not have enough information and support on either breastfeeding or formula. This makes them feel like they have to endure the journey alone, and even when they do turn to formula, it isn’t without guilt or a public questioning of their scruples.
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And then there is the matter of breastfeeding among low-income populations: one could expect it to be higher, owing to the rising costs of baby formula. What emerges is a very counterintuitive conclusion. The pressure to return to work makes EBF for six months difficult for many mothers, and this is especially true for the urban poor, who–being part of the informal labour sector–virtually have no maternal care benefits. There are examples of FM companies having infiltrated low-income countries as well: they offer cheap samples at first, and then dramatically increase prices, further entrenching families in cycles of poverty. Formula is also expensive, and so, many families tend to stretch out a box for much longer. The unavailability of clean water in most Indian slums, too, risks infant health.
Also read: Food fortification 101: Can foods built in with nutrients counter malnutrition, deficiencies?
If the IMS Act provides a solid legislative foundation, intervention by healthcare professionals is crucial to counter misinformation. Yet, the crisis is often exacerbated by the neonatal healthcare industry itself. A WHO survey on formula nutrition in 15 countries (excluding India) reported that 60% of women in Bangladesh and 45% in Nigeria had received a recommendation for formula from a qualified health worker. With birth rates declining in the West, countries like India and China have become primetime targets to boost formula sales. Another study across eight countries by the WHO and UNICEF—including Vietnam, China and Bangladesh—showed how formula marketing directly influences feeding decisions, despite the International Code of Marketing of Breast-milk Substitutes (1981). Apart from using a myriad of offline and digital marketing channels, formula companies also sought to alter medical professionals’ understanding of this breast milk substitute, since they had direct access to patients. Trusted brands have come under fire for promoting their products as ‘identical’ to breast milk.
Dr. Gogri says that one of the most common misconceptions that parents have about breast milk and formula is that they are equivalent in nutritional content.
Dr. Gogri says that one of the most common misconceptions that parents have about breast milk and formula is that they are equivalent in nutritional content. Dr. Armida Fernandez, former Head of Neonatology at LTGM Hospital, Sion (hereafter referred to as Sion Hospital), weighs in on how hospital staff are often complicit. “After birth, the baby should be put to the breast right away, because the more the baby sucks, the more milk will come in. In the first days, milk comes in very small quantities—sometimes just drops—and that is normal. Mothers need to be reassured that this is enough, since a newborn’s stomach is only about the size of a thumb,” Fernandez says. When the babies cry incessantly, parents panic and are led to formula as a quick-fix solution.
“Instead of keeping the baby on the mother’s chest and ensuring what we refer to as ‘skin-to-skin contact’, many hospitals put the newborn under a warmer and even give them a bath. Both these practices lead to rapid fluid loss,” Fernandez adds.
When asked about how formula is peddled in hospitals despite the IMS Act, Gogri underscores the basic fact that formula milk is, in the end, medicine. “Hospitals always stock FM containers, it is only advertising and promotion that is discouraged. Not all use of formula in hospitals can be attributed to malpractice or any malicious intent, really. More often than not, it's just a lack of awareness and negligible counselling about how important breastfeeding is in those early hours,” Gogri says. Many mothers aren’t aware of the benefits of breast milk, and even those who do, sometimes find themselves fighting back against their own caregivers.
Not all use of formula in hospitals can be attributed to malpractice or any malicious intent, really. More often than not, it's just a lack of awareness and negligible counselling about how important breastfeeding is in those early hours,” Gogri says.
In India, a lack of infrastructural as well as social support for mothers also prevails. A dearth of breastfeeding and pumping rooms in public spaces and the stigma around breastfeeding in public in the first place also explains why mothers turn to formula. Gogri says that BPNI has set up Hirkani Kaksha–rooms designated for breastfeeding and expressing milk–in Maharashtra. “Several rooms have been set up at bus stops and train stations across Maharashtra. Unfortunately, many of them are unclean and in various states of disrepair; some have even become dumping grounds for trash,” she says.
Discouraging or banning formula milk is not the answer. Even the BPNI acknowledges that formula is an essential part of infant and young child feeding in cases of lactation failure. Brazil, which runs the world’s leading breast milk donation program, shows another path forward: one where mothers are encouraged to donate their milk to vulnerable infants who might otherwise depend on formula.
The need for human milk banks in India is immense. Each year, 2.7 crore children are born in the country, of which 75 lakhs have low birth weight and 35 lakh are preterm. A preterm infant requires at least 30 ml of milk—volumes that add up quickly across millions of births. Yet, infrastructure remains scarce: until 2013, only 8–10 milk banks existed, and even today metro cities average only 5–6 banks each.
Dr. Armida Fernandez pioneered Asia’s first milk bank at Mumbai’s Sion Hospital in 1989. When asked what the Sion Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) was like at that point, she says, “We were losing newborn babies because of diarrhoea and sepsis, and one of the reasons was a feed of formula. I realised that if we had to stop the infection at source, we had to move to breast milk exclusively. And to ensure a continuous and safe supply of human milk, we needed a human milk bank.”
At the time, the concept of milk banks was alien, and Fernandez faced a lot of distrust and suspicion. “I never faced skepticism from the mothers themselves. Many mothers were ill and needed milk to support their babies, and others in the ward volunteered to be informal wet nurses for strangers’ babies. Once, a new mother who was also a resident at the hospital fed a baby who had tetanus, and it survived only because of her,” she adds.
Himani Khandekar, the manager at the milk bank, or the Comprehensive Lactation Management Centre (CLMC) at Sion Hospital, Mumbai, says that the objective is to ensure that infants are exclusively breastfed until their discharge. The reality of operating a milk bank, however, is grim and laborious. “Our supervisors and counsellors are scattered across the NICU, TCU (transitional care unit), and the post-natal care units, where mothers and babies rest after discharge. All these areas have separate breast milk pumping stations. The staff make individual rounds, personally going from bed-to-bed, training mothers in better breastfeeding practices, helping infants to latch.,” Khandekar says.
All mothers who are admitted in the hospital undergo an evaluation of their medical history, a serological testing of their milk and a physical examination of the breasts. When patients pass this screening, they are encouraged to be donors. “Counsellors help mothers understand the benefits of donating: it relieves their fullness and pain, can help other vulnerable infants, and actually increase their production as well, quite contrary to the myth of ‘running out.’”
The milk from these three different areas is pooled and divided equally into three equal aliquots to be fed into the Sterifeed—a fully-automatic pasteurizer capable of holding 36 bottles of 250 cubic centimetres of milk. The milk undergoes a heating cycle, where it is heated to 62.5 degree celsius, and then rapidly cooled to 15 degrees and then 4 degrees over the next two hours. After this, it is meticulously labelled and stored in deep freeze storages of -20 C, and tested for bacterial contamination.
“We dispense the milk primarily to premature and extremely sick/vulnerable babies in the NICU, whose mothers are ill themselves, or are experiencing lactation failure,” Khandekar says. “People from outside have also approached us to access PDHM (Pasteurized Donor Human Milk) reserves, but unlike staff, they are unaware of the temperature it is to be stored at, or the window in which it should be consumed. This may end up causing more harm than good.” The reach of milk banks in India, therefore, remains starkly limited–especially when compared to countries like Brazil.
Shortage of PDHM is a persistent reality that milk banks face. “Not every mother admitted in our wards will be willing to donate her milk,” Khandekar says. For every donor who comes forward, there are several newborns in urgent need who go without. The bank operates with a small team, making this work demanding. Counsellors spend their days on their feet, moving endlessly between wards, balancing the urgency of persuasion with the labour of reassuring anxious mothers.
Dr. Fernandez says that milk banks in India face two major barriers: lack of institutional budgets for equipment and staff (most rely on private donations or Rotary support) and the limited number of donors beyond hospital mothers. Khandekar affirms that there is a massive gap in demand and supply. Unlike in other countries where lactation professionals follow up with milk collection at home, and a dense network is set up for supply, India relies mainly on in-hospital donations due to hygiene and storage constraints, severely limiting collections.
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Scaling up milk banks while promoting breastfeeding, while not a utopian, or fix-it-all solution, could be transformative. This approach eases the burden for mothers coping with delayed lactation, infant health issues, or bereaving the loss of their own child, while ensuring babies get safe nutrition—as opposed to the alternative, which is formula. Dr. Fernandez suggests setting up ‘milk donation camps,’ much like blood donation camps. This however, would require policy changes in budgeting and infrastructural support, and large-scale awareness of breast milk banks, when most of us might have never heard that they exist.
The dominance of formula milk in India is not as much to do with parental choice but the result of systemic neglect. Unless India invests in breastfeeding support and human milk banking, it risks outsourcing infant nutrition to commerce, where formula will continue to fill the gaps—at the cost of its youngest citizens.
Edited by Anushka Mukherjee and Neerja Deodhar
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Editor's Note: From grocery lists, to fitness priorities, and even healthy snacking, protein is everywhere—but do we truly understand it? In this series, the Good Food Movement breaks down the science behind this vital macronutrient and its value to the human body.
We often mistake the question ‘Are you getting enough protein?’ to be inquiring about the amount of protein-rich food we are eating. But this seemingly simple nutritional goal is also about ensuring that the protein gets used up by the body effectively. The World Health Organization has declared 0.8 g per kg of body weight as the minimum Recommended Daily Allowance (RDA). But the way this requirement is framed could be misleading—because adhering to this figure blindly does not guarantee that you can avoid deficiency.
Research suggests that having 0.4g per kg of body weight per meal across breakfast, lunch, and dinner actually increases the rate of muscle synthesis by 25% compared to when protein intake is skewed.
To begin with, we could look at a single plate of food. When you have more than a certain amount of protein in one meal, your body cannot digest it. If it were carbohydrates or fats that were in excess on the plate, the body would simply store them (as fat). But the body does not have a mechanism to store excess protein. Instead, any excess gets broken down first to ammonia, and then urea, before being discarded entirely.
Additionally, according to studies, we have a tendency to concentrate our daily protein intake around either lunch or dinner, leaving the other two meals of the day deficient. This means that the simplest and most crucial change you can make to your protein intake is to spread it out. Research suggests that having 0.4g per kg of body weight per meal across breakfast, lunch, and dinner actually increases the rate of muscle synthesis by 25% compared to when protein intake is skewed.
Also read: Is there an ‘ideal’ amount of protein that must be consumed?
This is believed to happen because of the specifics of a certain function of the body called Muscle Protein Synthesis or MPS. This is the process used by our muscle tissues to convert amino acid chains into muscle. MPS is relevant even if you are not an active gym-goer since our bodies have a daily muscle protein turnover. Every day, you lose some muscle mass, and you need protein to make new muscle mass to ensure that you maintain consistent muscle mass.
To stay on the lower end of the muscle loss scale, spreading out your protein intake should be your focus.
When we ingest high-quality protein, MPS begins, and slowly but surely, new muscle starts growing. But, MPS has a ceiling. The synthesis is in action only up to a certain amount of protein, and then it stops. This doesn’t mean the rest of the protein remains unabsorbed—it is certainly converted into amino acids and used by the body, just not for muscle building. Distributing protein intake throughout the day can, then, enable more opportunities for muscle building without hitting a ceiling.
This balance gets all the more crucial as you age. Sarcopenia is a fancy-sounding word for the gradual, progressive loss of muscle mass and strength that is linked with old age. Someone in their 30s may think old age is still some distance away, but alas, biologically, it has already sneaked in. You lose about 3-8% of your muscle mass every decade after hitting 30. This muscle loss makes you frailer, and can even increase the risk of fractures. To stay on the lower end of the muscle loss scale, spreading out your protein intake should be your focus.
Also read: Protein’s seen and unseen benefits: How it affects metabolism, muscle repair
Based on your health and lifestyle, other factors can help you adjust when to have protein, as well. For example, if you are looking to lose weight, then it might help to incorporate high-protein snacks like Greek yogurt instead of, say, biscuits, since they will keep you full for longer; this also ensures some of your protein intake happens outside of lunch and dinner. Remember, these high-protein snacks don’t have to be expensive; the quality of protein depends on its composition (does it have all essential amino acids?) and digestibility.
If you are someone who works out regularly, then incorporating protein during or right after your workouts is a good idea—it has been proven to reduce muscle soreness and fasten recovery.
If you are someone who works out regularly, then incorporating protein during or right after your workouts is a good idea—it has been proven to reduce muscle soreness and fasten recovery. If you are someone who rarely works out, you might find that exercise can help your protein goals. Any physical activity helps maintain muscle mass through a simple function. At any given moment, our muscles are being slowly broken down (muscle breakdown or catabolism) and being rebuilt again (muscle synthesis and anabolism), in the body. Muscle mass is maintained when the rate of muscle synthesis is higher than that of muscle breakdown—something that physical activity can ensure. Resistance and intensity training are the best ways to initiate anabolic or muscle building functions in the body. The muscle building benefits last for 24 to 48 hours post workout, and some studies have found that you could get the maximum benefits from consuming protein within two hours of your workout.
Also read: Why your body may not be optimising the protein you eat
Editor's Note: The last two decades have been witness to the rapid and devastating march of unchecked urbanisation and climate change in India’s cities. Among the first victims of this change is freshwater and access to it—from rivers which sustained local ecosystems, to lakes and groundwater which quenched the thirst of residents. In this series, the Good Food Movement examines the everyday realities of neglect and pollution. It documents the vanishing and revival of water bodies, and community action that made a difference.
On a bank of Mumbai’s Mithi—a serpentine, nearly 18 kilometre-long river—a group of children gather to play at Valmiki Nagar in the Bandra East suburb. One may imagine a childhood by a riverbank to be full of frolicking in its waters, but this is the harsh truth: the children of Valmiki Nagar spend most of their early years amid piles of garbage. A few years ago, a mound of waste near the bank was cleared, which has now become a playing area. Scattered across the ground are pieces of crumpled plastic, torn fabric, and broken debris—little dots splattered on the landscape on a risky, steep slope that drops sharply towards the river.
What can a river, neglected and polluted for decades, take away from human life?
The Mithi has two identities: at once, it is a rain-fed river as well as a stormwater drain.
The Mithi, whose name incidentally—and ironically—translates to “sweet” in Hindi, originates from the Vihar Lake outfall, and also receives water from the Powai Lake further downstream (its upstream catchment area has three lakes—Tulsi, Vihar and Powai). Across its stretch, it is not uncommon to spot people throwing garbage, small-scale vendors dumping scrap materials, and industrial units draining effluents into the river. The Mithi is also choked by untreated sewage and stormwater—and this is not just anecdotal of a particular neighbourhood it snakes through. According to the 2022-23 Water Quality Index, the river exhibits a concerning water quality status with an annual average WQI recorded as 35, indicating it is “Heavily Polluted”. A good, healthy river will have a WQI of at least 75, and excellent health will reflect in a score of above 90.
For over a decade, Talat Jahan, 40, has been residing at one of its banks in Sant Dnyaneshwar Nagar, opposite the Bandra-Kurla Complex (BKC) business hub. She has long given up on the idea of a better future for her neighbourhood. “Everytime my 17-year-old daughter comes back from her hostel, I send her across the river to our other flat as the living conditions here are intolerable for her. Residents get offended and argue with you if you ask them not to throw garbage into the river,” she shares.
Why are the residents along Mithi’s banks left to this fate? The answer is revealed in a series of events that led to this consistent neglect of the river as well as the dwellers living along its shores—only made worse by staggered development, massive embezzlement and an abject ignorance of the city’s topography.
From BKC to the slums of Dharavi, if one were to ask for directions to the Mithi river, they’d perhaps be greeted with puzzled stares and a curious question: “River? What river?” To the locals who have built a life alongside the river, the water body is known as a nallah, a word used to refer to a drain—usually a sewage drain. “Arre, wo toh nallah hai,” they will tell you.
“It is a river for all biological and scientific reasons, but in the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation’s (BMC) records, it is referred to as a stormwater drain. For the BMC, the river is a ‘Pavsali nallah’ in Marathi, which means ‘seasonal water drain’,” explains Stalin D., director of the NGO Vanashakti, a Mumbai-based environmental NGO that has been working to conserve mangroves, wetlands, rivers and coastal belts for nearly two decades now.
The Mithi has two identities: at once, it is a rain-fed river as well as a stormwater drain. Originally, it was only a river with water flowing solely in the monsoon season. It was a part of the city’s water supply chain, used as a transport system, and importantly, the estuarine region of the river fed and supported the local fishing communities. It was large, clean, deep. But it was in the way of a growing city.
In the late 18th century, when Mumbai was a collection of seven islands, a major land reclamation project began; under the East India Company, the erstwhile Bombay was to become one, joined city. Land was reclaimed from the water bodies flowing in and around the city, and all seven islands were united by roughly 1838. This put into motion a series of land reclamation projects that would, again and again, sew Mumbai’s lands together.
Alongside reclamation, encroachments—slums and unauthorised construction—significantly narrowed the river’s flow path, reducing its natural capacity to carry floodwaters and causing severe bottlenecks.
The Mithi river has always been important to Mumbai. It runs through some of the densest areas of the city, and is able to drain water from multiple suburbs like Powai, Andheri, Kurla, and Bandra when it rains. It also provides the most direct route to carry the excess runoff to the Arabian Sea, where it eventually drains off. And Mumbai’s particular topography, which affords it excessive rainfall in the monsoon season, presented the need to think carefully and urgently about flood planning. And so, as Mumbai underwent rapid urbanisation, the Mithi was “trained” as a stormwater drain.
Large-scale land reclamation drastically reduced the river's original 800ha, as reported in 1930, to 400ha by 1973. In 1978, the Mumbai Metropolitan Regional Development Authority (MMRDA) reclaimed 370 hectares of land to create the Bandra Kurla Complex (BKC), of which 220 hectares were borrowed from the Mithi estuarine reach. Additionally, the construction of Mumbai’s International Airport and all related work from 1977 to 2004 also reclaimed swathes of land from the Mithi, destroying surrounding mudflats—essentially crumbling an entire ecosystem that traps toxins and houses biodiversity as well as nutrients crucial to the health of the river. The constant work at the airport forced the river to deviate unnaturally and rearranged its erstwhile linear flow.
Also read: The intertwined fate of Navi Mumbai’s Kolis and the Kasardi river
These infrastructural changes were not without consequence: Since Mumbai is an island city, several parts are at a low altitude above mean sea level (MSL). When high intensity rainfall coincides with high tide, flooding takes place in low-lying areas. That was the case of the sudden deluge on 26 July, 2005. The suburban part of the city experienced unprecedented, heavy showers with a record of 944 mm of rainfall in 24 hours—and the highest rainfall intensity of 190.3 mm in one hour between 15.30 pm to 16.30 pm. This coincided with the highest tide of 4.48 m.
The Mithi—choked, thinned and heavy—extracted its revenge by throwing up caught rainwater into the city, leading to a devastating flood in a form that was much worse than it otherwise could have been.
Alongside reclamation, encroachments—slums and unauthorised construction—significantly narrowed the river’s flow path, reducing its natural capacity to carry floodwaters and causing severe bottlenecks. “The river’s training was not really focused on the river itself, but on creating assets, with what remained taking the shape of the river,” says urbanist Gautam Kirtane.
Presently, as the water from the Vihar lake flows down, it passes through Filterpada, a notified slum and the first immediate settlement on the river. Zoya, a 10-year-old who lives in Filterpada, shares that she battles swarms of mosquitoes every night, relying on repellants like coils.
When the water from both the Vihar and Powai merges, the river threads through the neighbourhoods of Morarji Nagar and Jai Bhim Nagar in Powai. As one steps down from the main road to enter into the slums of Jai Bhim Nagar, the river emerges as an open-mouthed dumping site for household waste. In the area, a visibly gigantic freshwater pipeline passes over the river, through the two localities. This risky pipeline is often used by children and adults to walk over and cross the river in a hurry.
Ahsan Akhtar Sayyed, over 70 years old, has lived in Powai's Jai Bhim Nagar for over two decades. He is also the president of the Aadarsh Rahiwashi Welfare Committee, a group formed to resolve the issues of Mumbaikars living in the area. “Earlier, though the water was polluted, as it included wastewater from households and the runoff from cleaning filter tanks, the Mithi was never stagnant. Today, aside from the monsoon season, the river is inert, which leads to waste getting accumulated and rotting for several months—sometimes years,” says Sayyed. In this neighbourhood, the river is covered with blankets of hyacinth and other waste.
A few months before every monsoon, a strange routine unfolds: a bulldozer collects the waste rotting in the river.
Barring one placed in front of Sayyed’s house, there are no dustbins in the riverfront lane. Neither is there any door-to-door collection of waste here, Sayyed informs; even this lone bin was provided by the current MLA of Andheri East, Murji Patel. Residents are asked to dispose of garbage in one dumpster kept at a distance; with access so curbed, residents are left with no choice. As a result, an unbearably foul smell emanates from the bank.
“Yeh garib basti hai (This is a slum),” says Sayyed, “People here leave early in the morning and return home late, after work. It is difficult for them to worry about environmental issues when they are finding it difficult to make ends meet.”
A few months before every monsoon, a strange routine unfolds: a bulldozer collects the waste rotting in the river, Sayyed shares. “But since a dumping truck can’t enter inside the narrow lanes of this neighbourhood, the garbage is levelled back into the river.” Stalin throws light on this inexplicable phenomenon: the waste is levelled inside the river when heavy rains are expected so that it can be carried further downstream as the river flows. The waste then gets collected in the mangrove near the BKC estuary area, polluting the ecosystem heavily.
Notably, the Mithi has been consistently included in Priority I of Mumbai’s polluted river stretches, primarily due to Biochemical Oxygen Demand (BOD) values exceeding 30 mg/l. The average BOD of Mithi in 2022-23 was 37.3 mg/l, and the maximum was 82 mg/l.
Retaining walls are constructed along riverbanks to secure the edges between two ground surfaces of different elevations. However, in the case of Mithi river, these were constructed to train the river’s course for flood control, after the 2005 floods. Jal Biradari, a community dedicated to the protection and revival of rivers, and the Vanashakti NGO challenged the Coastal Regulation Zone (CRZ) clearance granted for constructing retaining walls, which impeded water flow to mangroves. In May 2016, the National Green Tribunal imposed a Rs 25 lakh fine on the MMRDA as environmental compensation for violating CRZ norms by constructing retaining walls.
“Years ago, in 1995, this place felt like our village. The river was dirty and had waste dumped on the sides, but it was visibly clean in the centre. There were no retaining walls and the water was 15-20 feet deep. People would bathe in it and wash their clothes at the banks,” Sayyed says, recalling the “acche din” of the river’s past.
Also read: The Chitlapakkam Rising story: How a Chennai community saved a lake
For Sant Dnyaneshwar Nagar’s residents in BKC, it is a nightmare to bear the consequences of all these years of neglect. One is greeted by heaps of solid waste on the entrance road of this area; not only can you find residents and shopkeepers throwing waste nonchalantly into the river, but also children competing against each other–aiming for the farthest shot. The river is heavily contaminated with plastic bags, scrap materials, food waste, metal, alcohol bottles and thermocol waste. You may even happen upon an unbearable sight for any nature lover: birds like sparrows, crows and egrets searching through waste to find food for themselves.
As is the case in Powai’s Jai Bhim Nagar, there is no dumpster in sight at the riverfront lane. In fact, in the low-lying area of Valmiki Nagar, it won’t be surprising to find an empty dustbin afloat at the bank’s edge, surrounded by trash.
"Previously, we tried to install dustbins in Sant Dnyaneshwar Nagar, but delinquents either burnt them or sold them to scrap dealers for quick cash," says Lubna Shaikh, a social worker. During the scorching heat of the summer, locals have no option but to take calculated breaths amid the stench of rotting waste that persists for months, even years, as water in the river remains stagnant. “This is a densely populated area where malaria, dengue and typhoid are some of the most common diseases,” Shaikh adds.
Talat Jahan, who has a family of five and runs a paan shop, says, “Earlier, I used to confront people, but now I have resigned and accepted that I will have to live in this condition. I don’t have time to get into fights or arguments—I have a family to run and look out for. People in the neighbourhood have accepted this lifestyle.” She has a rental stay near Kalyan on the outskirts of Mumbai where a door-to-door garbage collection service can be opted for. But owing to her livelihood and her husband’s illness, she is bound to reside in Sant Dnyaneshwar Nagar. Mumbaikars like her question the unfairness of living in a city where one neighbourhood has access to garbage collection services, but the other is entirely deprived of them.
During the scorching heat of the summer, locals have no option but to take calculated breaths amid the stench of rotting waste that persists for months, even years, as water in the river remains stagnant.
The typical pre-monsoon sight of an excavator crane in Bharat Nagar removing the waste and hyacinth from the river—leaving a trail of charcoal-coloured leachate behind on the road—is a stark reminder of how year-long neglect takes a physical form. This year, as of June, this waste collection drive was not undertaken.
The nearby neighbourhoods of Maharashtra Nagar and Valmiki Nagar (across the river) bear the brunt of Mumbai’s heavy rainfall. “The residents have to pay a heavy price as there is an absence of retaining walls in these regions since 2017, when exceptionally strong rainfall led to collapse of the previous wall,” shares Shaikh.
The retaining walls serve more than one purpose. Urbanist Gautam Kirtane sheds light on a sociological phenomenon—“splintering urbanism”—that emerges from geographical division: about how the city's local train lines shape its wealth brackets. For example, the areas to the west of the Western Line include suburbs like Bandra, Santacruz, and Khar that are far more affluent than the eastern side of the same line: Dharavi, Bandra East, and Kurla.
Such a pattern can also be observed along the course of the Mithi river. "The Mithi is the most in-your-face example of the distinction between slum and non-slum areas. It actually divides the city into administrative divisions. All that is on the east of the river are the eastern suburbs and on the west, the western suburbs. Much of the administrative boundary is also defined by this wealth differentiation. So, from a sociological perspective, these retaining walls are the great wall of Mumbai," says Kirtane.
The urbanist has observed a difference in waste management policies for slums and non-slums in Mumbai. “In the slums, a project called the Swachh Mumbai Prabodhan Abhiyan (SMPA) is conducted on a voluntary basis. But ideally, waste collection is supposed to be a mandatory function of urban local bodies,” he explains, arguing that this unequal treatment stems from the city's perception of slums. “There's a classist and casteist undertone to this reality,” he explains.
While residents have adapted to the river’s polluted state, their survival costs them multifold—in health, safety, and dignity. The authorities’ piecemeal efforts across desilting, retaining walls, and offering unfulfilled promises have failed to address the root causes of the river’s degradation. “The Mithi comes under the storm water management department of the BMC. Stormwater is meant to carry only rainwater, the garbage in the rainwater is to be removed by the solid waste department. The solid waste department puts its hands up when tasked with removing waste from the storm water area,” says Stalin, underscoring how the responsibility of ensuring their well-being, safety and health falls squarely on the shoulders of riverbank residents, abandoned by city authorities and urban planners.
Also read: In Gurugram’s rise, a cautionary tale about satellite cities and groundwater
Edited by Neerja Deodhar and Anushka Mukherjee
Illustration by: Khyati K
Produced by Nevin Thomas and Neerja Deodhar
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Editor's note: Even before its current status as a nutrient-rich superfood, ragi has been a crucial chapter in the history of Indian agriculture. Finger millet, as it is commonly known, has been a true friend of the farmer and consumer thanks to its climate resilience and ability to miraculously grow in unfavourable conditions. As we look towards an uncertain, possibly food-insecure future, the importance of ragi as a reliable crop cannot be understated. In this series, the Good Food Movement explains why the millet deserves space on our farms and dinner plates. Alongside an ongoing video documentation of what it takes to grow ragi, this series will delve into the related concerns of intercropping, cover crops and how ragi fares compared to other grains.
Forests and farms have an ancient link: centuries ago, the first farms were carved out of forests. Humans evolved from farming within the forest, to farming alongside it. We planted woody trees into farmlands and held onto the forest, even as agricultural land expanded.
However, over time, as the two became more distinct, so did their functions. The forest became the custodian of biodiversity and the farm the provider of food: two diverging arms that could not meet. In the mid-1970s, as scientists sought to bring back the practice of farming alongside forests, John Bene, a Canadian forester published a study coining the term agroforestry.
Agroforestry, as the name suggests, is an integration of woody vegetation (trees or shrubs) with farmlands and animal husbandry. However, it is more than just the introduction of trees into farms—it is the dynamic interaction of all three elements (farms, animals, and trees) to create a more diverse ecosystem. And while proponents usually frame it as a method of land management to be introduced into farms, it has also traditionally included farming within forest lands by indigenous communities. Just like intercropping diversifies from the main crop by planting subsidiary crops, this technique incorporates trees and shrubs into the ecosystem of the farm and enriches it. Neem trees serving as wind barriers for a bajra crop, jackfruits harvested within forest lands, or coffee plantations growing in the shade of mango trees are all examples of agroforestry in practice.
Also read: Why Akkadi Salu, an ancient practice of intercropping deserves a comeback
As a farming system, agroforestry is both farmer- and climate-friendly. In many ways, it is analogous to organic farming. The mulch the trees provide replaces fertilisers, and the friendly predators they house – like birds and insects – feed on pests, replacing pesticides. Agroforestry is also believed to have a higher potential for carbon sequestration than single-species farms.
Agroforestry is also believed to have a higher potential for carbon sequestration than single-species farms.
Trees anchor a farm and enrich the soil—from preserving the top soil and preventing soil erosion, to serving as mulch and negating the need for fertilisers. Their cooling effect on fields increases yield. Beyond enhancing the main crop’s yield, fruit trees can serve as an additional source of income, becoming a useful safeguard during lean harvests. Similarly, they can bring diversity to the local wildlife and animal feed while also reducing methane emissions associated with livestock farming.
Also read: The grain divide: How ragi and rice compare in the field and on our plates
Indigenous communities, worldwide and in India, have been practicing agroforestry since time immemorial. But it was only in 1983 that research in agroforestry got consolidated government support in India. In February 2014, India became the first country to adopt a National Agroforestry Policy, which included easing rules on harvest and transit of agroforestry products and providing a range of financing options for farmers.
In recent years, millets have found renewed interest in agricultural spaces because they are climate resilient. Given that they also have more proteins and minerals than cereals like wheat and rice, they are gaining consumer appeal. And they continue to be culturally relevant in several arid and semi-arid parts of the country, with India making up 80% of all millet production in Asia, and 37.5% of global production.
In February 2014, India became the first country to adopt a National Agroforestry Policy, which included easing rules on harvest and transit of agroforestry products and providing a range of financing options for farmers.
This makes millet-based agroforestry a uniquely positioned climate solution. Ragi, with its significance across the country, and especially in the Deccan Plateau, becomes a key grain to consider in this context.
Across India, ragi is frequently intercropped with trees for a variety of benefits. In Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh, and Telangana, ragi is usually accompanied by the maha neem (melia dubia). In Karnataka, it is also common to intercrop with Gliricidia sepium, which increases the microbial biomass. Fruit trees like jamun, mango, and guava are often incorporated, as are root vegetables like carrots and beetroots. Ragi is also often rotated with maize in Karnataka.
Bhimal (Grewia oppositifolia) is often planted alongside ragi in Uttarakhand. In Maharashtra, ragi grows under the shade of the bamboo. Other millets have also been successfully incorporated in agroforestry. Sorghum is commonly planted with teak. Pearl millet planted in Rajasthan under Indian jujube was wildly successful, while in Uttarakhand it has grown well under poplar too.
In many ways, agroforestry is the harvesting of sunlight in layers.
For these benefits to truly accrue, the combination of trees and crops have to be chosen carefully to complement each other—their heights and root systems upon maturation should maximise the reach of sunlight and soil moisture. In many ways, agroforestry is the harvesting of sunlight in layers. For instance, let us take the example of an agri-horti-forestry system. The crops are layered, with the first layer being a ground layer crop like a tuber. The second layer includes crops that will reach 2-3 feet height, like ragi. The third layer is usually horticultural plants like jackfruits or papaya which grow 10–15 feet high. The fourth (and usually final) layer includes plants growing beyond 15 feet, mostly including tree crops like bamboos which serve as wind barriers, but can also be harvested for additional income.
Across the world, millet-based agroforestry has existed, not only because it makes farming more holistic and profitable, but because it contributes important ecosystem services and mitigates the environmental impact of intensive farming. India is in a unique position to revive these traditional agroforestry systems—land, yields, farmers and the planet all stand to gain much from it.
Also read: Rewilding farmland: The story of Shihab Kunhahammed’s edible forests
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The Plate and the Planet is a monthly column by Dr. Madhura Rao, a food systems researcher and science communicator, exploring the connection between the food on our plates and the future of our planet.
On October 2, 2025, the EAT-Lancet Commission, a global consortium of 70 scientists from 35 countries working at the intersection of nutrition, health, and sustainability, released an updated version of its landmark 2019 report, which first introduced the idea of a Planetary Health Diet (PHD). Like many food systems researchers around the world, I have been busy parsing the report and assessing how its updated evidence base reframes global discussions on sustainable and healthy diets. For anyone who has read the 76-page report and its supplements, its scale and scope are immediately evident. It brings together an extraordinary range of evidence across disciplines, leaving much to be discussed.
In this column, however, I focus on the PHD and explore how the average Indian diet stacks up against its vision for healthy and sustainable eating. The PHD is framed as an optimal diet for improving the wellbeing of the global population and has been developed based on the health impacts of consuming various foods. However, the report provides evidence indicating that the widespread adoption of such a diet can reduce the negative environmental impacts associated with most current diets, making it a means to improve the health of people as well as the planet.
By no means are my observations a report card of the Indian diet, for it remains unclear whether the PHD is entirely suitable for the developing country context (more on that in the last section), but rather an attempt to understand where India’s eating patterns stand in relation to its principles.
The 2025 PHD serves as a global reference framework that must be adapted to local cuisines and food systems, as well as to individual characteristics such as age, sex, body size, physical activity level, pregnancy and lactation status, health condition, and genetics. The diet, based on a 2400 kcal energy intake per day, recommends consuming generous quantities of plant-based foods like fruits and vegetables, moderate amounts of animal-sourced foods, and minimal quantities of ultra-processed foods, added sugar, saturated and trans fats, and salt. Here’s what it recommends per food group:
The EAT-Lancet report compares its recommended diet with average dietary patterns across different world regions. India is grouped within the South Asia region, and while country-level comparisons for the 2025 report are not yet available, regional averages offer a useful reference point. Let’s take a look for each macronutrient category.
Carbohydrates form the foundation of most diets, and within the PHD framework, whole grains, tubers, fruits, vegetables, and sugar are the key components to consider. Global whole grain intake is far below recommended levels. South Asia fares better than all other regions of the world (rotis to the rescue!) but still only meets half the target. This does not mean grains are lacking in Indian diets; rather, they are mostly consumed as refined products such as maida and polished white rice. Recent research by the Indian Council of Medical Research shows that Indian adults derive roughly 62% of total energy from low-quality carbohydrates, largely refined cereals and added sugars. The same study shows that high carbohydrate intake is associated with a higher likelihood of non-communicable diseases such as Type 2 diabetes, obesity, and cardiovascular diseases within the population. In many low- and middle-income countries, whole grain foods are less available and more expensive, partly because the nutrient-rich bran and germ are removed and sold as animal feed.
Tuber consumption in South Asia roughly aligns with the PHD recommendation, though our fondness for potatoes shows through as the average slightly exceeds the suggested limit. Sugar intake surpasses the suggested level by about 25% but remains well below that of regions such as Latin America and the Caribbean and North America. Fruit and vegetable intake in the region remains below recommended levels, with vegetables faring better than fruits, for which South Asia records the lowest consumption among all regions.
Let’s turn to protein. Consumption trends for plant-based foods such as nuts and legumes, and animal-sourced foods like milk, poultry, eggs, fish, and red meat, tell an interesting story. Globally, average intakes of nuts, seeds, and legumes fall well below the levels recommended by the PHD. South Asia performs relatively better, ranking second only to Sub-Saharan Africa in legume consumption. But even here, the average intake is only about half of what the PHD suggests, even though lentils and pulses feature so prominently in the region’s culinary traditions.
While reducing excessive meat intake is crucial in many parts of the world like North America, Latin America and the Caribbean, and Europe and Central Asia, in India the challenge is the opposite: ensuring that people consume enough high-quality protein from both plant and sustainable animal sources to meet their nutritional needs.
For animal-sourced foods, South Asia’s averages are similarly below the recommended levels: eggs at roughly 75%, fish and milk around 50%, red meat about 50%, and poultry between 15 and 20% of the PHD targets. Among all regions, South Asia shows the lowest levels of poultry, fish, and red meat consumption. Earlier research comparing the 2019 PHD with Indian dietary patterns found consistently low caloric intake from protein sources, both plant- and animal-based, across all regions, sectors, and income groups. The deficit was most pronounced in rural areas, where only about 6% of total calories came from protein, compared with 29% in the 2019 reference diet.
At first glance, the region’s relatively low consumption of animal-sourced foods might appear environmentally beneficial, especially when compared with the high levels typical of North America, Europe, and parts of Latin America and even Sub-Saharan Africa. However, this gap also points to a serious protein inadequacy in South Asian diets. While reducing excessive meat intake is crucial in many parts of the world like North America, Latin America and the Caribbean, and Europe and Central Asia, in India the challenge is the opposite: ensuring that people consume enough high-quality protein from both plant and sustainable animal sources to meet their nutritional needs.
Also read: Ultra-processed foods are reshaping our diets. Should we be worried?
When it comes to fats, South Asia shows an interesting mix of alignment and excess. Vegetable oil consumption is close to 40% of the amount recommended by the PHD. Most other regions fall short of this benchmark, with only North America and Europe and Central Asia slightly exceeding it. Palm oil consumption in South Asia is around 70% of the recommended level, a more moderate figure than in regions such as Sub-Saharan Africa or East Asia and the Pacific, where it is considerably higher. Palm oil is not traditionally part of South Asian diets, but its low cost and long shelf life have made it a preferred ingredient in the food processing industry.
This does not mean grains are lacking in Indian diets; rather, they are mostly consumed as refined products such as maida and polished white rice.
Animal fat consumption, on the other hand, tells a different story. At roughly 60% more than PHD’s recommended amount, it is the only food group in which South Asia significantly exceeds the recommended level. This likely reflects the region’s enduring fondness for ghee and other dairy fats, both in home cooking and festive cuisine. While these fats hold cultural and culinary importance, their high saturated fat content raises concerns for cardiovascular health, particularly as diets become more energy-dense and lifestyles more sedentary.
The EAT-Lancet commission strongly urges public authorities to adapt the principles of the PHD to local nutritional needs and cultural preferences via national dietary guidelines. In the Indian context, the National Institute of Nutrition’s (NIN) dietary guidelines are interesting to consider in this regard. Released in 2024, the guidelines do not make any reference to the PHD. However, both guidelines present many overlaps. Since the PhD is based on a 2400 kcal intake and the NIN’s guidelines on a 2000 kcal one, it is not possible to compare recommended quantities for various foods directly. However, both propose a diet that is rich in vegetables and pulses and moderate when it comes to animal-based foods, fats, and sugar.
Some differences between the PHD and NIN guidelines are worth discussing here as well.
Some differences between the PHD and NIN guidelines are worth discussing here as well. For instance, while the PHD allows about two eggs per week, the NIN recommends one egg a day. It also recommends fruits in much lower quantities than the PHD. These differences reflect India’s specific nutritional deficiencies, affordability concerns, and access issues. But some other differences might hint at blind spots. For example, the NIN guidelines group oils and fats together with nuts, without clearly distinguishing between animal-sourced or saturated fats and healthier plant-based options. Such an approach risks overlooking the excessive consumption of animal-sourced fats, which the EAT-Lancet report identifies as a dietary concern in South Asia. The NIN also classifies tubers like potatoes under vegetables, whereas the PHD treats them as a separate category with a limited share of the diet.
Also read: What it takes to feed India’s growing cities
The 2019 EAT-Lancet report was criticised for proposing a diet that was out of reach for much of the developing world. A 2020 study found that the cost of an EAT–Lancet diet, even when adapted to local contexts, exceeded household per capita income for at least 1.58 billion people. The recommendations of the 2025 report do not deviate much from the 2019 ones (though they do come with stronger evidence) even as consuming fruits, vegetables, nuts, and even meat in quantities suggested by the PHD remains unattainable for people in most developing countries including India.
All in all, while it might be unrealistic to expect the Indian population to consume 500 g of fruits and vegetables and 50 g of nuts and seeds every day, there are areas where policy action can make a meaningful difference.
Affordability is only one part of the picture. The report also draws attention to a stark imbalance in responsibility: the wealthiest 30% of the global population account for over 70% of food-related environmental impacts, and diets in regions such as North America and Europe have a far greater environmental footprint than those in South Asia. This contrast raises an important question—should a country like India be expected to change its diet when it contributes far less to global environmental degradation? I believe the answer is still yes, not for environmental reasons alone, but because the framework speaks directly to urgent public health needs.
There is much that the government can do with the analysis presented by the report. To begin with, understanding how India eats requires better evidence. Research that compared the Indian diet with the first EAT-Lancet’s PHD relied on national consumption data from 2011–12, the last comprehensive survey of its kind. National level data from 2018–19, which could have provided an updated picture, could not be used because of quality concerns. Without new data, policy design risks being reactive and fragmented.
The widening gap between those who can afford diverse, nutrient-rich foods and those who cannot is also an area that must be addressed by the government. Urban and higher-income populations have greater access to diverse and nutrient-rich foods, while rural and poorer households remain dependent on cereal-heavy diets. Food price volatility, insufficient government aid, and uneven social and economic development across regions have deepened these divides.
All in all, while it might be unrealistic to expect the Indian population to consume 500 g of fruits and vegetables and 50 g of nuts and seeds every day, there are areas where policy action can make a meaningful difference. Expanding subsidies and procurement support for whole grains, pulses, and fresh produce, alongside public campaigns to reduce sugar and animal fat consumption, would help shift diets in a healthier direction and curb the incidence of non-communicable diseases. Strengthening the Mid Day meal programme and public distribution schemes to prioritise nutrient-rich foods could also help bridge dietary gaps without placing additional burdens on households. Steps such as these should be taken in order to strengthen nutritional security and the resilience of India’s food system in the face of environmental and economic pressures. Because, after all, the wellbeing of one-sixth of humanity cannot be separated from the wellbeing of the planet itself.
Artwork by Alia Sinha
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It’s 8:30 am on a rainy August morning when Nosar Bai, 65, is searching roadside bushes in the outskirts of the Jaliya village in Ajmer, Rajasthan. The thing she is looking for is the spine gourd (Momordica dioica), a climber plant with green, spiky, seasonal fruits, also known as kikoda in Rajasthan.
Cooked as a vegetable (find a local recipe for it at the end of this article), the spine gourd is a semi-wild species of flowering plant in the gourd family. It is found in nature with minimal human interference in Punjab, Uttar Pradesh, Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh, Kerala, and in the Western Ghats of Maharashtra, as well as in other regions of India and Sri Lanka, reaching an elevation of 1,525 metres in the Himalayas.
It is known by different names across India. In Karnataka, it is called madahagalakayi; in Maharashtra, it is known as kartoli and kantola; in West Bengal, it is referred to as bhatkarela and ban-karola; in Andhra Pradesh and Telangana, it is called aakakarakayi; in Tamil Nadu, it is known as pazhupavakkai; and in Kerala, it is referred to as kattu pavakkai/eruma paval. Other names used in different parts of the country include kankoda, meetha karela, kakrol, and kaksa.
For the past 20 years, Nosar Bai has been foraging for spine gourds (also known as spiny gourds) to sell during every monsoon. All year, she has to do absolutely nothing to ensure that the fruits will grow. “Bhagwan bowe hai inhe (it’s God that sows these seeds),” she says. According to her and others from the region who sell foraged spine gourds for a living, the tuber of the plant remains resolutely in place all year, requiring no intervention. As soon as monsoon showers arrive, the plant climbs up swiftly. It thrives in both tropical and subtropical climates and has been described as a hardy plant well-suited to diverse climatic conditions. It can be grown on a wide range of soils and in frost-free areas. As long as there’s rain, there’ll be spine gourds, and if it doesn’t rain for a year, they will still grow the next year amid showers, Nosar Bai says.
More than 550 km away, in Mainpuri, Uttar Pradesh, Omveer Singh cultivates the spine gourd commercially. Singh grows the Indira Kankoda I variety—developed by researchers in Chhattisgarh and released in 2007—which is resistant to all major pests. In India, the fruit (used as a vegetable in the culinary sense) is commercially grown in Odisha, Bihar, Jharkhand, and Maharashtra, along with West Bengal and Karnataka—the two states which lead in its cultivation for sale.
After quitting his job as a salesperson during the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, Singh decided to turn to farming, deliberately choosing crops that required minimal investment yet offered steady, year-on-year returns. YouTube tutorials helped him learn the basics, and when he came across the spine gourd, it immediately brought back memories of foraging it in the wild during his childhood. That nostalgia, along with its low-effort cultivation, convinced him to grow the spine gourd alongside parwal (pointed gourd). The only recurring costs, he notes, are for manure and neem oil to keep pests away, while the one-time expense of constructing a bamboo support structure—for the tubers to climb—lasts for years.
According to Singh and Nosar Bai, 1 kg of spine gourd can fetch anywhere between ₹80 to ₹200, depending on the time of the season and year. Singh says that cultivating spine gourds in an area of one acre can fetch somewhere between ₹3,00,000 and ₹4,00,000 per season. For him, the returns have been increasing year-on-year.
As soon as monsoon showers arrive, the plant climbs up swiftly.
In Telangana’s Adilabad and Warangal, the gourd has been sold at prices higher than chicken earlier this year and in previous years, reaching as high as ₹500 per kg in 2024 due to its escalating demand and comparatively insufficient production. The other reasons cited for high prices are its limited availability at a specific time of year, as well as its appeal among vegetarians and meat-eaters alike.
“It is not just the fruit that sells. One kilogram of seeds, procured from approximately 10 kgs of fruits, sells for anywhere between ₹3,000 and ₹5,000. The dried roots also sell for about ₹300 to ₹400 per kg. I receive calls from all over the country to ship seeds and roots for medicinal use as well. People have even come to my house or the farm to buy from me directly,” Singh adds.
Also read: A hunt for Goa’s wild ‘monsoon greens’: Foraged veggies that fed generations
The lucrative returns on spine gourd are due to its high nutritional value. “Yeh bimaari kaate hai (It keeps you disease-free),” says Nosar Bai. Along with being rich in vitamins, including vitamin A, vitamin C, and vitamin B9, the fruit contains minerals like iron, magnesium, and potassium. “Rich in fibre, the spine gourd aids in digestion and relieves constipation. It’s a great choice for those with diabetes mellitus, PCOS, hypertension, and obesity because of its high fibre and moisture content and also due to its ability to lower blood sugar levels. Since it is rich in anti-oxidants β-carotene and flavonoids, it can act as an anti-aging agent, and can help fight acne. It’s like a multivitamin pill,” explains Dr Deepti Verma, nutritionist and director, Mastermind Body Global.
Some reports have documented the medicinal use of the spine gourd in traditional healing practices, too. Tribes in Chhattisgarh have been using the tuberous roots of this plant to treat rheumatism, fever, and diarrhoea, while its seeds are used to treat chest issues.
Also read: The uncertain future of Aarey Forest’s tribal agriculture
Despite its significant economic and nutritional value, and demand in local markets, the spine gourd remains “underutilised and under-exploited”. This is because growing the fruit comes with its own set of challenges. Primarily, there is no conventional propagation technique for large-scale cultivation. It is also a dioecious crop, which means it has separate male and female plants. The male plant only bears flowers, which are essential for pollination but don’t yield any gourds. It’s the female plant that bears both flowers and fruits after being pollinated by the male plant.
When propagated through seeds, one challenge is that the sex of the plants cannot be predetermined. “You need a lot of seeds to ensure cultivation,” says Soumik Banerjee, an independent researcher and practitioner of agro-ecology and heirloom seed conservation. After flowering, a 10% male plant population should be maintained to achieve better fruit yield.
Singh adds that propagation from seeds is also more time-consuming. It takes three months for them to germinate and flower. “Whereas if the propagation is executed through the tuber, it flowers within 30-35 days,” he explains.
Though germination via tubers is faster and provides clarity on the plant's sex, it can be challenging to obtain a sufficient number of plants. “People dig out tubers from the wild, disturbing the plant’s growth in forests and damaging its natural ecosystem,” explains Banerjee.
Also read: In Meghalaya, Mei Ramew cafés keep indigenous recipes, techniques alive
To combat these challenges with propagation, researchers across the country have developed various varieties. For instance, Arka Bharath, identified for commercial cultivation by the experts at the Central Horticultural Experiment Station (CHES) in Karnataka’s Chettalli (a regional station of the Indian Council of Agricultural Research - Indian Institute of Horticultural Research, Bengaluru) is a high-yielding variety.
Researchers found that not only do spine gourd plants sprout only after the onset of the monsoon, they also produce a lower yield with small fruits that weigh between 20 gms–30 gms, resulting in a very low yield of 2-3 kgs per plant.
On the contrary, their Assamese counterpart—the teasel gourd (Momordica subangulata subsp. renigera), a semi-domesticated crop—multiplies more easily, and therefore, can be more cultivated commercially. A single fruit can weigh up to 100 gms, and a yield of up to 8-9 kgs can be procured from one plant. The researchers studied the teasel gourd to produce a high-yielding selection for commercial cultivation. A 2024 study has found that net returns from teasel gourd farming are strikingly promising. The maintenance costs ranged from ₹2,94,460 in the first year to ₹3,65,830 by the fifth year, while the net returns fluctuated between ₹16,49,795 in the first year and ₹14,13,020 by the fifth year.
Another successful example stemming from academic research is the Arka Neelachal Shanti variety—a hybrid of the spine gourd developed by crossing it with the teasel gourd. “While the quality of spine gourd is superior, it yields fruits for a shorter time and is difficult to propagate. We’ve crossed two different species to combine the desirable traits of both to develop this variety, which is easy to cultivate and multiply, and yields fruit for a longer duration,” explains Latchumi Kanthan Bharathi, Principal Scientist, division of Crop Improvement, ICAR-Central Tuber Crops Research Institute (ICAR-CTCRI), Thiruvananthapuram. “It is now a super hit with farmers in Odisha, where it was released,” he says.
Bharathi was the principal investigator for the programme that developed Arka Bharath and Arka Neelachal Shanti. The intent behind his research into the subject was widening the food basket and providing greater access to this local ingredient.
Wash the spine gourd fruit thoroughly and leave it to dry. Once dry, cut into round slices. Heat some oil in a pan and add cumin seeds and asafoetida. Sauté some finely chopped onions and slit green chillies. Add the spine gourd, along with spices such as chilli powder, turmeric, and coriander powder. Add salt to taste. Cover and cook on low heat until the gourd is cooked through. Squeeze some lemon on top, mix and season with fresh coriander leaves.
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For the last 27 years, Prof. Chellapilla Bharadwaj has been working on chickpeas. Principal scientist with the Genetics Division at the Indian Agricultural Research Institute (IARI), he holds a PhD in genetics and plant breeding. A crop expert interested in technological interventions, he is now engaged in research to breed superior varieties of the legume that can stand the test of climate change. In fact, the varieties developed by Prof. Bharadwaj now make up a third of chickpeas grown in central India.
His summer visits to the remote, picturesque Araku region in Andhra Pradesh, where one his relatives worked under the tribal development programme a few decades ago, sparked his interest in agriculture. His choice to study chickpeas emerged from a larger fascination with pulses. Significantly, Prof. Bharadwaj’s work with chickpeas is also focused on smallholder farmers; his varieties are meant to help them increase their yields and consequently, their incomes. Since the chickpea is a climate-resistant crop, his objective is to develop varieties of this crop that can help small farmers, who will be most affected by climate change.
There are two distinct types of chickpeas: the smaller black variety, called the desi chana, and the other variant which is bigger in size and lighter in colour, called the Kabuli chana. The latter is sweeter in taste and does not become sticky upon cooking. While desi chana is cultivated in India and Pakistan in significant quantities, Kabuli chana is native to the Mediterranean.
Significantly, Prof. Bharadwaj’s work with chickpeas is also focused on smallholder farmers; his varieties are meant to help them increase their yields and consequently, their incomes.
When it comes to the cultivation of pulses in India, almost 50% of production as well as area under farming belongs to chickpeas. The country is both, the largest producer of chickpea in the world, as well as its biggest importer. Madhya Pradesh, Maharashtra and Rajasthan are the leading states in its cultivation. It is typically grown as a Rabi crop; it prefers dry weather and deep, loamy soils. There are now over 200 commercially available chickpea cultivars being grown in India, with the protein content in some of these touching nearly 33%, with exceptionally high bioavailability. Generally, the pulse is also high in dietary fiber and unsaturated fatty acids, as well as micronutrients such as iron, zinc and magnesium.
Legend has it that the chickpea, known for its diversity and cross-cultural travels, became Mughal emperor Shah Jahan’s source of sustenance after he was imprisoned by his son Aurangzeb. When his son gave him the choice to pick only one ingredient, Shah Jahan supposedly opted for the legume because it can be cooked in numerous ways. Even a story this medieval simply illustrates what Prof. Bhardwaj believes about the chickpea: it’s a genius food. It can be prepared and consumed in any way one likes. It’s no surprise that it adapted so readily to a variety of regional culinary practices.
In recent years, increasing yields and building climate resilience have become a priority for its farmers. This is a priority for Prof. Bharadwaj, too. Led by him, his team works with precision to reach these two goals. For instance, when working on developing drought-tolerant varieties, specific genes that impart this advantage–like deep root lines–are identified, and used to breed new varieties. Traditionally, this sort of cross-breeding would take about 10 years. But Prof. Bharadwaj’s team uses molecular markers to identify genetic information, and breeding this way cuts the development time in half. This process of genomic breeding is also being used to develop varieties that not only resist drought, but also wilt–the same variety offers higher yield, as well. Of the 28 varieties developed by the team, six are bred this way.
In this conversation with the Good Food Movement, Prof. Bharadwaj explains how they achieved these outcomes.
What place does the chickpea occupy in Indian agriculture? How does it compare to staple crops like paddy and wheat?
Each crop has its own distinct role to play in the food system. While rice and wheat meet the carbohydrate requirements, the chickpea plays a vital role in fulfilling the protein needs of crores of Indians.
In the northern and the western plains of India, chickpea cultivation has declined.
It is one of India’s most important pulses. All over the world, it is cultivated over 11–13 million hectares, which is a large area by global standards. Grown under resource-limited conditions, chickpea thrives due to its low input requirements and unique ability to fix atmospheric nitrogen. It thereby enriches soil fertility.
However, a transformation has come about. In the northern and the western plains of India, chickpea cultivation has declined. The crop has been largely replaced by the rice–wheat cropping system. This shift has contributed to significant environmental concerns like soil degradation and a depletion of water resources. To address these challenges, it is essential to reintroduce at least one pulse crop—preferably the chickpea—in the Rabi season. Policy interventions and institutional support are needed to ensure the revival of chickpea in these two regions.
Also read: The big promise of the little millet, in Odisha and beyond
It is known to be a climate-friendly crop. Is your work building on the science needed to make it more resilient to climate change?
I am engaged in enhancing the resilience of the chickpea to make it adaptable to various climatic vulnerabilities. It requires minimal external inputs. My research extends beyond merely identifying these superior genetic resources–I am also strategically deploying them to breed superior chickpea varieties capable of thriving under challenging environmental conditions.
Using advanced molecular breeding tools, I have successfully developed several varieties such as Pusa 10216, Pusa 4005 and Pusa JG 16. The Pusa 10216 shows better drought resistance as well as higher yields, and it was released by ICAR in 2019. The other two are more recent: Pusa 4005 was released in 2021, and Pusa JG 16 in 2023.
These varieties possess the ability to maintain high yields even in drought-prone areas. They offer farmers reliable options in the face of climate variability. Central India, where these varieties have been primarily adopted, have seen an increase in their chickpea yield by nearly 25%. Pusa 10216, specifically, showed an 11% yield superiority compared to its predecessor in the very year it was released.
Also read: Why kokum, a beloved souring agent, hasn't evolved into a commercial success
Could you comment on the chickpea’s genetic diversity (variety of genes that help the crop adapt, survive, evolve)?
Cultivated chickpea varieties possess relatively narrow genetic diversity. However, the species as a whole harbours rich genetic variations which are largely found in traditional landraces and crop wild relatives or CWRs (a wild plant closely related to the domesticated plant). Although the natural habitats of many CWRs are on the verge of extinction, they have been conserved in gene banks. These genetic resources must be systematically characterised and effectively utilised in breeding programmes to enhance the crop’s resilience and productivity.
What technology do you use in your work?
At the IARI, I am dedicated to developing superior chickpea varieties tailored to diverse market segments and suited for farmers across all the chickpea-growing zones of India. The breeding programme, ‘Genetics and Genomics Approaches for Breeding Chickpea to Enhance Productivity, Stress Resilience, and Nutritional Quality,’ integrates cutting-edge genomic tools with conventional breeding methods. By combining traditional selection practices with genomic-assisted breeding, I aim to deliver high-yielding, climate-resilient, and nutritionally enriched chickpea varieties that meet the evolving needs of farmers and consumers alike.
Why are so many scientists across the world invested in the chickpea?
It is one of the most important legume crops. India plays a key role in its global value chain as the largest producer, consumer, importer and also a significant exporter. While India exports the large-seeded Kabuli type, it also imports substantial quantities of the desi (kala chana), making the Indian market a focal point of global trade. This attracts major chickpea-producing countries such as Australia, Tanzania and Ethiopia, all of whom aim to cater to the Indian demand.
With the rising protein market and increasing emphasis on sustainable agriculture, it offers immense potential for both food security and environmental resilience.
Beyond its commercial significance, its exceptional nutritional profile–particularly its high protein content–positions the chickpea as a key player in addressing malnutrition and in meeting the growing global demand for plant-based protein. With the rising protein market and increasing emphasis on sustainable agriculture, it offers immense potential for both food security and environmental resilience. These combined advantages explain why scientists worldwide are investing in chickpea research.
The chickpea travelled from the Mediterranean region to Afghanistan and then entered India. What do you have to say about this fascinating journey across cultures? What made it a cross-cultural crop?
The journey of the chickpea is a remarkable instance of how a humble crop can weave itself into the cultural fabrics of multiple civilisations. This migration was not only about seeds moving across continents, but also about knowledge, cuisine and culture traveling together. Along the ancient trade routes, chickpea was not only a food commodity, but also a strategic agricultural product that could be stored, transported and traded easily.
Its ability to thrive in semi-arid conditions, with modest water and nutrient needs, allowed it to adapt seamlessly from the Mediterranean’s mild winters to the harsher terrains of Central and South Asia. As it is rich in protein, fibre, vitamins and minerals, the chickpea met a fundamental dietary need across societies, both as a staple for vegetarian communities in India, and as part of balanced diets in the Mediterranean and the Middle Eastern regions.
Few crops can boast of a culinary range as wide as the chickpea.
Few crops can boast of a culinary range as wide as the chickpea. One only has to think of the Mediterranean hummus and the Levantine falafel to the Indian chana masala and besan-based evening snacks. Each culture reimagined the chickpea to suit its tastes and traditions. In essence, the chickpea’s cross-cultural journey is a story of resilience, adaptability and universal appeal. It is a crop that transcended geography to become a shared heritage of human food culture.
Also read: The nutritional power of ragi: India's overlooked supergrain
Why aren’t pulses mainstreamed in India? Even in dry regions such as Bundelkhand, one observes farmers opting for wheat. Why don’t they turn to chickpeas?
Wheat and rice have become easy crops to cultivate, as the expertise required to farm them is well understood. Their high adaptability, coupled with assured market support and government subsidies makes them the preferred choice for many farmers. In contrast, pulse crops, though hardy and resource-efficient, demand a certain level of farming skill and experience for successful cultivation. Farmers need to be educated and trained not only in pulse production techniques, but also in understanding the environmental benefits that pulses offer.
Unlike wheat and paddy growers, pulse farmers use far smaller amounts of nitrogenous fertilisers like urea. Therefore, fertiliser subsidy policies should be revisited to provide higher and more remunerative minimum support prices (MSP) for pulse growers. Additionally, imposing higher import duties on pulses can help protect domestic producers, ensuring that they receive fair and competitive market prices. With these targeted interventions, the area under pulse cultivation and overall production can be increased.
Edited by Anushka Mukherjee and Neerja Deodhar
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Editor's note: Even before its current status as a nutrient-rich superfood, ragi has been a crucial chapter in the history of Indian agriculture. Finger millet, as it is commonly known, has been a true friend of the farmer and consumer thanks to its climate resilience and ability to miraculously grow in unfavourable conditions. As we look towards an uncertain, possibly food-insecure future, the importance of ragi as a reliable crop cannot be understated. In this series, the Good Food Movement explains why the millet deserves space on our farms and dinner plates. Alongside an ongoing video documentation of what it takes to grow ragi, this series will delve into the related concerns of intercropping, cover crops and how ragi fares compared to other grains.
Long before intercropping became an agroecology buzzword, farmers across southern Karnataka had perfected Akkadi Salu—a system that allowed ragi to thrive alongside pulses, oilseeds, greens, and even weeds. In Kannada, akkadi means ‘a minor crop grow between the furrows of a main crop’ and salu refers to a row—this was an indigenous intercropping system. Once the foundation of the region’s dryland food economy, it is now a vanishing practice, replaced by mechanised monocropping. Yet, in a climate-stressed world, its logic is newly urgent.
In Akkadi Salu, fields of ragi were never sown homogenously. They were interspersed with legumes, oilseeds, trees, and shrubs—like field beans, tur, castor, sesame, niger seed and mustard. These are crops with different root depths and growth cycles that together kept the soil fertile and the harvest diverse. Therein lies the beauty of ragi, you don’t need to grow any of these crops by themselves; they can all co-exist. Traditionally, farmers begin with hand broadcasting: scattering a mix of seeds across the land before the first monsoon showers. Once the seeds germinate, the soil is lightly turned to mulch the residue back in rather than ploughing deeply. The aim is to keep the topsoil alive, not expose it.
Hand broadcasting is a native art that helps farmers connect with the soil. You walk along the rows in the field and swing your hand from right to left, scattering seeds in a gentle motion. Then, retrace your steps backwards to ensure an evenness to the sowing. Sometimes, you may step on a seed, but this actually pushes it into the soil rather than destroying it. Ragi, a hardy monocot that needs oxygen-rich, well-aerated soil, benefits from this minimal disturbance.
Therein lies the beauty of ragi, you don’t need to grow any of these crops by themselves; they can all co-exist.
Cover crops, a class of crops grown before the main ragi crop benefit from a mixture of legumes, oilseeds, and herbs. These cover crops include legumes like cowpea, horsegram, and dhaincha [Spiny Sesbania], which are grown before the main ragi crop to fix nitrogen naturally. Castor and mustard, meanwhile, act as trap crops—drawing pests away from the main harvest and towards them instead. They also serve as hosts for pollinators like ladybird beetles. After harvest, the stalks and roots decompose to feed the next cycle, closing the nutrient loop and negating the need for chemical fertilisers. This process lays the foundation for a successful ragi crop. Wherever Akkadi Salu is practised, the farms are scarcely ploughed; earthworms and microbes loosen and aerate it better than any machine can.
Everything in Akkadi Salu revolves around keeping the soil covered and alive. It is essential that the soil is exposed to minimal sunlight and that temperatures under the surface remain cool. Thus, crops are chosen not only for food or fodder, but for their root architecture—deep-rooted castor and tur create pathways for rainwater to percolate, while shallow-rooted millets retain moisture near the surface from the rain. The constant mulch layer prevents the soil from overheating and protects it from erosion.
Wherever Akkadi Salu is practised, the farms are scarcely ploughed; earthworms and microbes loosen and aerate it better than any machine can.
Also read: The grain divide: How ragi and rice compare in the field and on our plates
Akkadi Salu is a practice that focuses on both food and fodder. The rabi season’s intercrops are often grown solely for fodder. It kept cattle fed through the dry months, while their dung and urine enriched the next cycle of sowing. Weeds are not perceived as intruders, but as guests that were bound to arrive, and are therefore welcomed. This approach isn’t just philosophical; it is ecological. In these biodiverse fields, weeds are not enemies but part of the cycle—fodder for animals, nutrition for the soil, and even food for farmer families.
Most Indian farmers today apply weedicides on their fields, in an attempt to remove weeds. What if we looked at weeds as plants that beautify fields and diversify our sources of nutrition? These are also plants that are traditionally foraged while the monsoon crop grows. Each plant has its own utility. For instance, doddagunisoppu [Horse Purslane] helps constipation, and the stem of the mustard plant, which is usually discarded in modern kitchens, treats dog bites in cows and sheep.
This mosaic of crops and weeds acted as insurance.
This mosaic of crops and weeds acted as insurance. If ragi failed, legumes usually survived. If pests came, trap crops kept them occupied. The field remained productive for eight months a year, even on a single acre of rain-fed land.
Also read: ‘Summer ragi’: How Kolhapur farmers’ millet experiment became a success story
The arrival of mechanisation—rotavators, seed drills, threshers—brought both relief and loss. Machines reduced labour but demanded uniformity. Intercropped fields were harder to till and harvest mechanically, so farmers began segregating crops into neat, single-species plots. Humans adapted cropping patterns to machines instead of nature, which led to the slow decline of Akkadi Salu.
Today, most ragi is cultivated as a monocrop, heavily reliant on chemical inputs like diammonium phosphate (DAP) and urea. The soil has become compacted (which decreases soil porosity), the biodiversity has thinned, and farmers have lost a system that once offered both resilience and nutrition.
Climate change is hitting India’s drylands hardest. Erratic rains, degraded soils and shrinking water tables make high-input farming untenable. Intercropping systems like Akkadi Salu offer an agroecological alternative: low-cost, low-risk, and deeply adapted to local ecology.
Across India, similar traditions echo this logic: Uttarakhand’s Baranaja (twelve grain), Odisha’s Dongar (hill farming), and Rajasthan’s hangadi kheti each combine cereals, pulses, oilseeds and greens to maintain soil life and nutritional diversity. They also promise more than just yields—they restore nutrition, soil carbon, and cultural memory.
As Rachel Carson wrote in her seminal book, Silent Spring, “Nature has introduced great variety into the landscape, but man has displayed a passion for simplifying it.” Akkadi Salu is a reminder of what complexity can sustain—and how much we stand to lose by forgetting it.
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“Our native seeds have thrived for hundreds of years,” says Pavani Gomango, a farmer from the Manikapur village in Odisha’s Gajapati district. Holding a handful of kulath (horse gram) passed down through generations in her Saura Adivasi community, the 37-year-old explains how they persist where hybrid varieties fail—resilient against erratic rains and long dry spells. For Gomango and countless other Adivasi women farmers, these seeds are more than a tradition; they are a lifeline in the face of climate change and the loss of food diversity. “A seed is not just a grain. It carries our story, our soil, and our strength,” Gomango says.
In the neighbouring Rayagada district, in the Telingiri village of the Kashipur block, community leader Harabati Jhodia has been raising awareness among Adivasi communities about the importance of preserving native seeds. “Losing these seeds means losing our wisdom about food,” the 38-year-old says, displaying a handful of vibrant kernels of indigenous maize. These varieties, she explains, are not only hardy but also rich in nutrition. Yet the traditional knowledge linked to them is fast eroding. High-yielding commercial seeds and monocropping have been steadily replacing indigenous varieties over the last decade, leaving the younger generations with a limited understanding of their value.
Across Gajapati and Rayagada, however, a quiet revival is taking root. Adivasi women farmers are joining hands to identify, exchange, and multiply their native seeds—keeping them alive in both fields and public memory. Supporting this effort is Living Farms, an NGO founded in 2008 that works in the area on sustainable food systems, in collaboration with Action Child Aid and Terre des Hommes (the former, a Danish NGO working with underprivileged children in urban and rural slums in India since 1965, and the latter, a Swiss charitable organisation working with children and the youth). This initiative has helped establish 40 community seed banks across the two districts. Managed, owned and operated entirely by Adivasi women from communities like the Sauras and Dongria Kondhs since 2018, these banks are more than repositories: they are hubs of resilience, reducing the communities’ dependence on external markets.
Currently, around 400-500 women manage 40 seed banks, with each institution powered by the labour of about 10-15 women. Farmers can borrow these seeds under two simple conditions. First, they may give their own indigenous varieties to the banks in exchange for those they lack. Second, after harvest, they must return double the quantity of seeds they borrowed. In this way, the banks function on a system of trust and reciprocity, offering seeds without any financial transactions.
“The first step is to identify local seed keepers,” explains Kanchani Gomango, a 46-year-old from Manikapur who has preserved certain native varieties which others have not. The safeguarding work that these custodians undertake spans across generations. “It is because of their past efforts that we are able to protect our crop diversity,” she adds. Her words capture the very spirit of the community seed banks.
In this way, the banks function on a system of trust and reciprocity, offering seeds without any financial transactions.
“They empower communities to exercise their rights over seeds,” says Bichitra Biswal, programme director at Living Farms in Bhubaneswar. “They give people the ability to control their own food systems.” Most encouraging, he notes, is the response from the younger generation. Young Adivasi community members are beginning to recognise the worth of these native seeds—not as relics of the past, but as vital keys to a resilient future. By operating at a small scale aimed at sustenance and exchange with neighbouring villages, these banks are able to avoid the challenges of financing and logistics that larger banks typically face. To prevent spoilage, the seeds are dried and mixed with dry neem leaves, after which they are preserved in earthen pots.
Odisha is home to 64 Scheduled Tribes and 13 Particularly Vulnerable Tribal Groups (PVTGs), with Adivasi communities comprising over 22% of the state’s population. Yet, limited access to dietary diversity has led to widespread malnutrition and poor health outcomes. The spread of hybrid seeds and monocropping has further deepened food and nutritional insecurity. These challenges are compounded by climate change, as irregular rainfall and prolonged dry spells frequently damage hybrid crops and reduce yields.
The impact is stark. In Rayagada district, according to the Poshan District Nutrition Profile (2022) published by the NITI Aayog and the Ministry of Women and Child Development, 44% of children under the age of five are stunted, 40% underweight, and 70% are anaemic. Among pregnant women, 77% are anaemic. In Gajapati district, the figures are similarly alarming: 43% of children under the age of five are stunted, 34% are underweight, and 64% are anaemic.
Also read: How a remote Ladakh village, home to 17 women, embraced polyhouse farming
The story of the community seed banks does not end with the give and take of seeds; relying solely on the ‘loaned’ grains from these banks, nearly 4,000 Adivasi women in the area are cultivating diverse crops in backyard nutrition gardens with support from Living Farms. Through organic practices such as mixed and intercropping, they grow vegetables, greens, pulses, maize, and tubers. These women are taking the lead in shaping household food security, deciding which crops to grow, determining quantities for family consumption, selecting the best seeds for the next season, and generating income by selling surplus produce.
Each nutrition garden is set up on just two decimals (0r 0.02 acres) of land, yet they flourish with 14 to 16 indigenous varieties of vegetables. Women grow staples like okra, pumpkin, tomato, brinjal, bottle gourd, bitter gourd, snake gourd, ridge gourd, cucumber, spinach, carrot, radish, chilli, and amaranthus. Among these thrive rare native varieties known by their local names—bori bejra (cherry tomato), putal chichili (finger-sized ridge gourd), dumuni lau (round bottle gourd), dimbu lau (high-neck bottle gourd), sukuli heyana (white brinjal), and hapka heyana (thorny brinjal). Alongside vegetables, women also cultivate pulses such as cowpea, cluster beans, and arhar—ensuring not just a colourful spread on their plates, but also a reliable source of protein for their families.
The story of the community seed banks does not end with the give and take of seeds; relying solely on the ‘loaned’ grains from these banks, nearly 4,000 Adivasi women in the area are cultivating diverse crops in backyard nutrition gardens with support from Living Farms.
For a nutrition garden to prosper, the plot it is located on must receive sunlight throughout the year. The laying out begins by fixing a stump at the centre and marking a 15-foot circle with ash. Around it, four more concentric circles are drawn with radii of 3, 4.5, 9, and 10.5 feet. The outermost circle is then divided into seven equal sections to create 1.5-foot-wide pathways, while the beds in between are enriched with farmyard manure. Seasonal adaptations are key; in the summer, women prepare sunken beds to reduce water loss through evaporation, while in the monsoon, they create raised beds to protect plants from heavy rains and waterlogging.
In the innermost circle, women cultivate root vegetables such as radishes, carrots, beets, and turnips. Creeper varieties are trained along the vertical supports of the seven pathways, while the outermost circle is used for leafy vegetables and tubers. Around the fence of the nutrition garden, they plant horticultural crops like papaya, banana, and drumstick, which thrive in full sunlight. This cropping pattern is designed to ensure the year-round production of vegetables. New plants are sown just before existing ones reach their fruiting stage, creating a continuous cycle of harvests while also reducing the spread of pests and diseases.
Also read: Sasbani's 'fruits' of labour: Reviving hope in rural Uttarakhand
The nutrition gardens serve as the dietary backbone of the communities they serve. “They help maintain a balanced diet by supplying fresh, diverse, organic vegetables regularly,” says Biswal. Each garden, he adds, is capable of feeding a family of five to seven members throughout the year.
“Previously, we used to buy vegetables in very small quantities because they were expensive, and we’d eat the same ones for days. Now, there is no such limitation. With our nutrition garden, we harvest what we like and eat as much as we want,” says 31-year-old Kanakalata Kingal, a resident of the Bhalusahi village. If Kingal’s garden brings her joy, 44-year-old Rua Kutruka derives quiet pride from her own in the Balipadara village of Rayagada. For the past three years, it has freed her from having to buy vegetables at the local market. “We save around Rs 500–Rs 700 every week, and by eating fresh vegetables, our children’s health has improved,” she says. The savings have also transformed the family’s diet. Once able to afford non-vegetarian food only once in 15 days, Kutruka’s family can now buy eggs, fish, and chicken twice a week.
“Women are selling the surplus vegetables from their nutrition gardens in the local weekly market and supplementing their household incomes,” says Upendra Sikaka, sarpanch of the Telenga Padar panchayat in the Muniguda block. Since these crops are cultivated organically and taste better than chemically-grown hybrids, demand for them remains consistently high in the local market, he adds.
Traditionally, Adivasi women in southern Odisha foraged for wild edibles, including mushrooms, greens, and bamboo shoots during the monsoon. “Our food plate is very diverse during the rainy season,” says 42-year-old Sana Kumruka from Balipadara. But come summer and winter, and the meals turned far simpler and limited. “We used to eat pokhalo, a traditional fermented rice dish with only mashed potatoes or one or two boiled vegetables,” she recalls. After establishing a nutrition garden, Kumruka and her family enjoy a diverse plate throughout the year. “Now, we relish pokhalo with four to seven boiled vegetables, along with greens, lentils, and shallow-fried tubers. Our children, too, are happy to see colourful food on their plates,” she adds.
Also read: How women in this tiny Naga village are safeguarding local seeds
Traditionally, Adivasi women have been custodians of both, food and seed, in their communities. This remains true of the banks and nutrition gardens thriving today, as women remain involved in the fundamentals, such as cropping patterns.
As part of its community outreach from 2017 to 2018, Living Farms, in collaboration with agricultural extension workers from the Krishi Vigyan Kendras organised a series of awareness campaigns on nutrition gardens in Adivasi villages. These campaigns lasted for four years, after which successful gardens served as demonstration models, and farmers were invited to visit and interact with experienced cultivators. Here, farmers were not mere observers—they became participants: walking through the fields, touching the crops, feeling the fertile soil, and exchanging knowledge with those who had already reaped the bounty.
To make nutrition gardens easier to adopt, Living Farms created a brochure in Odia, offering step-by-step guidance on managing soil, crops, and pests. This resource has been distributed among farmers to raise awareness.
Each year, remote villages come alive with seed festivals—vibrant gatherings where farmers exchange seeds, share experiences, and pass on traditional knowledge. More than just celebrations, these events highlight the urgent need to conserve fast-disappearing indigenous varieties while honouring the diversity of local seeds and age-old farming practices. “Our seeds carry the wisdom of our ancestors and the promise of our children’s welfare,” says Pavani Gomango. “Protecting them means protecting our future.”
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