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.
{{quiz}}
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
{{quiz}}
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.
{{quiz}}
“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.”
{{quiz}}
Seeds mark the beginning of all food security, and by extension, the foundation of agriculture and the beginning of all life. In India, where agriculture is deeply ingrained in culture, seeds have never been regarded merely as farming inputs. They have long been symbols of abundance, passed down and exchanged across generations.
But in today’s industrial food system, choosing a seed is no longer a simple act. It is a political, economic, and ecological decision. With India having the sixth-largest domestic seed market in the world—worth over ₹10,000 crore—our seed choices are increasingly shaped by market forces, agribusiness corporations, and policies, rather than by farmers and communities.
As Krishna Prasad, the founder of Sahaja Seeds, says, “Traditionally, in India, seeds were part of the commons—[goods] freely exchanged through community networks and rituals. For instance, during marriages or housewarmings, navadhanya (wheat, rice, toor dal, chickpeas, moong beans, white beans, black sesame, Indian black lentils, and horse gram) were given importance.”
Indigenous seed systems relied on open-pollinated varieties (OPVs) that evolved through natural selection and local adaptation. These seeds were adapted to microclimates, soil types, and farming practices. Importantly, they could be saved and reused, strengthening local control and autonomy.
Women were often the custodians of seeds, passing down knowledge through oral tradition and lived experience. In many parts of India, the role of women in seed preservation is still acknowledged through festivals and seasonal rituals.
Indigenous seed systems relied on open-pollinated varieties (OPVs) that evolved through natural selection and local adaptation.
This transition to the modern dilemma of seed differentiation occurred following the Green Revolution, which took place in the 1960s. The Green Revolution was introduced in response to the risk of a series of famines between 1947 and 1960, as well as to increase food production, alleviate poverty, and feed millions. With support from international institutions, the government introduced high-yielding varieties (HYVs) of rice and wheat.
Before the 1960s, Indian farmers practised multicropping cultivation, later shifting to two crops per year during the time of the Green Revolution, a period marked by the “commercialisation/commodification” of farming. Moreover, farmers who grew traditional crops for their own consumption shifted to cash crops; cropping patterns shifted from diverse, input-sharing mixed farming to monocultures driven by external hybrid seeds. This has altered not just what farmers grow, but why they grow it—profit has replaced food and ecological security as the core purpose. In pursuit of high returns, many farmers now grow cash crops that involve higher risks, higher production costs, or long-term vulnerabilities. The system was arranged in such a way that there was increased use of chemical fertilisers, pesticides, insecticides, mechanisation, and institutional reforms, while traditional agriculture and knowledge were sidelined. As Krishna Prasad says, “There was a constant push from the government in the form of subsidies, loans, and targets upon officials to shift to conventional farming.” Thus, big multi-corporations started controlling seeds.
Also read: Babulal Dahiya makes every grain of rice count
For example, in northern Karnataka, farmers save seeds from plants that have consistently survived the region’s hot, dry weather. Over time, these seeds adapt and require less water, becoming stronger in challenging conditions. Along Karnataka’s coast, farmers select seeds from rice plants that can withstand salty sea breezes and heavy rains, ensuring future crops resist flooding and salt damage. In both cases, plants are allowed to cross-pollinate naturally—through wind or insects—so that beneficial traits spread within each ecosystem. Moreover, when parent plants endure drought or salinity stress, they transmit biological signals to their seeds, enabling the next generation to grow better under similar tough conditions.
Prasad refers to them as “seeds of resistance” that protect both ecological balance and farmer autonomy. He names Papamma in Mulgabal and Aftab MB in Udupi, Karnataka, as examples of seed savers who have conserved over 500 native varieties like navane (foxtail millet), karibhatta ragi, and hurali (horse gram).
These seeds are often dismissed as “primitive cultivars” or “landraces.” But in reality, they form the genetic bedrock of agricultural resilience and food culture local to India.
The history of the hybrid seed goes as far back as early 20th-century plant breeding trials. In 1908, American geneticist George Harrison Shull showed that the mating of two pure maize lines resulted in the birth of a vigorous offspring—a process referred to as heterosis or hybrid vigour. This provided the basis for hybrid seed technology. Commercial hybrid maize became available in the US during the 1930s, transforming corn farming by markedly increasing yields and resistance to disease.
In India, the use of hybrid seeds accelerated during the Green Revolution, particularly for cereals such as maize, sorghum, and pearl millet. Hybrid varieties were extensively advertised, and officials used to promote their yield potential based on government subsidies and irrigation facilities. However, this vigour does not carry forward as hybrid seeds do not breed true. If a farmer saves and replants hybrid seeds, the second-generation crop shows genetic segregation, leading to unpredictable and often inferior yields.
Hybrid seeds are created by crossing two genetically distinct inbred parent lines to produce the first-generation (F1) hybrids. These F1 plants display hybrid vigour (heterosis) and uniformity, resulting from the combination of complementary alleles. However, when F1 plants self-pollinate or interbreed, their offspring—the F2 generation—inherit a random assortment of chromosomes. This leads to genetic segregation, where different combinations of parental genes are distributed among individual plants, causing significant variation in traits such as size, yield, taste, and overall uniformity. Due to this segregation, seeds saved from hybrid crops do not “breed true,” meaning the next generation fails to consistently reproduce the desirable characteristics of the original hybrid. As a result, farmers must purchase new hybrid seeds each season to maintain the same quality and performance. Moreover, hybrid crops are typically input-intensive, requiring chemical fertilisers and pesticides for optimum performance. This increases production costs and ecological risk. Hybrid seed markets in India have become tools for corporate monopolisation, where private firms determine access, pricing, and availability.
The most well-known GMO in India is Bt cotton, which contains a gene from Bacillus thuringiensis—a soil-dwelling bacterium—to kill bollworm pests. While initially successful, the technology has shown diminishing returns, with new pests emerging and farmers returning to pesticide use.
GMO seeds are often patented, meaning that farmers cannot save or reuse them legally. Companies retain ownership of the seed genetic code, even after sales. Civil society groups, such as The Non-GMO Project, Gene Campaign, and the Heinrich Böll Foundation, have raised concerns about the potential risks of GMOs to biodiversity, food safety, and farmer sovereignty.
{{quiz}}
India’s seed economy today is highly commercialised. The seed industry is estimated to have a turnover of over ₹10,000 crore and continues to grow rapidly every year. While public institutions, such as the National Seeds Corporation (NSC), still play a role, private companies have started to dominate the hybrid and GMO seed markets from the late ‘80s.
Confusion between hybrid and GMO seeds is common, and literacy around seed types is low—especially in rain-fed and tribal regions.
The proposed Seed Bill 2020 has sparked debate, with critics arguing that it prioritises corporate breeders’ interests over farmers' rights. Licensing requirements, mandatory registration, and the potential for criminalisation of seed saving are key concerns. Additionally, many farmers are unaware of the origin or classification of the seeds they use. Confusion between hybrid and GMO seeds is common, and literacy around seed types is low—especially in rain-fed and tribal regions.
This commodification also has gender-based implications: as women lose control over seed selection and storage, their stake in agriculture becomes invisible, despite their central role in biodiversity conservation. With the rise of patented seeds sold by multinational corporations, women farmers have become increasingly dependent on purchasing seeds each sowing season, rather than saving and sharing them. This shift undermines their traditional roles and authority in agriculture, diminishing their visibility and influence, even though they continue to carry out much of the farm labour.
Also read: One Odisha woman’s mission to preserve taste, tradition through seeds
Despite institutional barriers, farmers across India are reviving seed sovereignty through community seed banks, farmer-led breeding, and heritage seed festivals. The Aikanthika Heritage Seed Mela has been held across multiple locations since 2024, and the Desi Seed Festival, organised by Sahaja and other NGOs since 2006, is held annually in Davanagere and Mysuru, Karnataka, respectively. Such initiatives, where hundreds of farmers exchange native varieties of ragi, paddy, legumes, and vegetables, are beneficial to the seed ecosystem. These gatherings are both cultural and political, challenging monoculture and celebrating biodiversity.
Sahaja Seeds, India’s only farmer-owned organic seed company, has built an extensive network of seed producers across India. Likewise, Sahaja Samrudha and Bharat Beej Swaraj Manch are among the handful of national-level players whose models emphasise ethical seed production, capacity building, and preserving neglected varieties.
Women farmers and the youth are also leading the way in seed saving. As Prasad says, “Seed saving reduces dependence on expensive commercial seeds, lowers input costs, and preserves crop varieties adapted to local climates and stresses. This financial and ecological independence empowers women farmers.”
As climate risks intensify—unpredictable monsoons, droughts, floods, and pest outbreaks—the need for diverse, locally-adapted seeds has never been greater. Studies have shown that indigenous seeds are more resilient under climate stress than hybrids or GMOs. For instance, native varieties of bajra and jola in Karnataka withstand dry spells far better than imported hybrids.
Traditional seeds have undergone in-situ evolution, meaning they continuously adapt to local climate patterns, soil conditions, and pest pressures. They also have a broader genetic base with multiple alleles that provide resistance to stress traits, unlike hybrid seeds, which are genetically uniform. This genetic diversity enables them to withstand various environmental stresses through natural selection. Traditional varieties also contain stress-responsive genes (such as the glutathione transferase family), which are activated under multiple stress conditions, providing cross-protection against drought, heat, and disease. Moreover, grains such as millets and pulses are rich in micronutrients, making them essential for achieving nutritional security.
As climate risks intensify—unpredictable monsoons, droughts, floods, and pest outbreaks—the need for diverse, locally-adapted seeds has never been greater. Studies have shown that indigenous seeds are more resilient under climate stress than hybrids or GMOs.
Organic seed systems also contribute to soil health, carbon sequestration, and reduced dependency on fossil fuel based inputs. Their success depends on practices which will increase soil organic matter, such as long-term use of manure, compost, crop rotations, multicropping, cover crops and crop residues, which increase porosity, and water holding capacity. As organic matter accumulates, carbon is sequestered in stable soil fractions—such as humic substances and particulate organic carbon—locking atmospheric carbon dioxide into the soil and mitigating greenhouse gas emissions. Because organic systems avoid synthetic nitrogen fertilisers and petrochemical pesticides (whose production and application consume large amounts of fossil fuels), they substantially reduce energy use and fossil fuel dependency compared to conventional farming.
From the consumer’s perspective, buying organic varieties helps build market demand for traditional seeds. Each conscious purchase reinforces the entire ecosystem—from the farmer to the soil to the seed.
Seeds are not just agricultural tools—they are deeply interconnected to justice, memory, and survival. In a world of rising climate risks and market dependency, our seed choices reflect the kind of future we are sowing.
Also read: The tribal seed guardians of Dindori
In November 2024, Kerala hit a remarkably unique milestone by logging a reduction in antibiotic sales to the tune of over Rs. 1000 crores. Over the years, the state has strengthened its Antimicrobial Resistance (AMR) intervention through a multi-pronged approach, slashing the consumption of antibiotics by 20-30%, according to a statement by Health Minister Veena George.
A significant decision that contributed to this result was taken three years ago, when the state government resolved to suspend or cancel licences of pharmacies selling antibiotics to customers without a doctor’s prescription. This year, the crackdown gained strength: in June, the licences of 450 pharmacies were suspended and five were cancelled, for not adhering to the given direction.
The impact of this drive is wider awareness that is prompting people to act. “After the COVID-19 pandemic, people would buy antibiotics using old prescriptions if any symptoms recurred. But now, people have now become aware that they should not be consumed without a doctor’s prescription. The awareness against unchecked antibiotic use has spread to a vast majority of people, though I won’t say it has reached everyone,” reveals a pharmacy owner whose establishment is based in Pettah, Ernakulam. He adds that the purchase of medicines using outdated prescriptions has been considerably reduced now.
Every pharmacy must clearly display a poster that reads ‘antibiotics not sold without a doctor's prescription’; strict consequences await those who don’t.
There are more than 30,000 retail and wholesale medical shops in Kerala, which are reportedly the focus of ongoing awareness classes for pharmacists. “Medical shops were the core of the campaign, making it their own and putting up the posters on their walls, perhaps because the state has a high literacy rate. People needed no explanation but the posters,” says Dr. Sujith Kumar K, Kerala Drugs Controller. He is referring to the mandate that every pharmacy must clearly display a poster that reads ‘antibiotics not sold without a doctor's prescription’; strict consequences await those who don’t.
Dr. Kumar adds that the Drugs Control Department is working to launch the Sentinel Pharmacy framework to provide accreditations to pharmacies that follow key performance indicators. “These will be model pharmacies, and they will be provided colour codes to be identified as such.” In 2024, the state government announced that this accreditation would enable pharmacies to play a part in disease surveillance and tracking outbreaks by reporting drug purchases and unusual patterns in usage.
AN Mohanan, the President of the All Kerala Chemists and Druggists Association State (AKCDA), underscored that the AMR drive had indeed made a dent. “By and large, medical shops don’t sell antibiotics without a prescription now. Kerala is a progressive state, and the medical shop owners are convinced about the consequences of unchecked sales,” he says.
Another pharmacy-centric action has been the introduction of surprise raids in retail chemist shops by the Kerala Drug Control Department. In fact, even the general public has the power to make a change: the state provides a toll-free number where you can lodge complaints if you see a medical shop selling antibiotics without a prescription. These raids fall under Operation AMRITH (Antimicrobial Resistance Intervention for Total Health), a key project that has enabled several other initiatives since its launch in January 2024.
“The sale of antibiotics now is like that of narcotics, not available without a prescription, and monitored during raids by inspectors of the department. Now, there are regular raids under Operation AMRITH,” the Kerala Drugs Controller says.
Also read: Add crisis to cart: Why instant delivery and antibiotics don't mix
Patients are now more easily convinced when advised to avoid using antibiotics, says ENT specialist Dr. Divya PK, who is the Medical Officer of the Primary Health Centre (PHC) at Koodaranji, Kozhikode. “The use of antibiotics at the outpatient wing has reduced, and patients can’t buy from pharmacies without a prescription. However, constant effort is needed to keep motivating people; the pace should not slow down when a new program is launched,” she adds. Dr Divya was instrumental in transforming the Kakkodi Family Health Centre (FHC) in Kozhikode into an antibiotic-smart hospital. To do this, the Health Centre successfully followed and implemented all of the 10 guidelines issued by the state on curbing the overuse of antibiotics, becoming the nation’s first such hospital.
We follow the exact prescription, and medicine is sold again only if the doctor has suggested a repeat purchase. We are aware of the consequences of unchecked use of all kinds of medicines, not solely of antibiotics.
Despite the government’s proactive stance, a major challenge is that buying only prescribed antibiotics has not gone down well with non-Keralites residing in the state. “They show us prescriptions sent to them via WhatsApp, and the doctors (from their home states) encourage us to sell medication without a physical prescription,” reveals the Ernakulam pharmacy owner quoted earlier. Worse yet, buyers ask for two or three tablets, which chemists like him don’t encourage. “We follow the exact prescription, and medicine is sold again only if the doctor has suggested a repeat purchase. We are aware of the consequences of unchecked use of all kinds of medicines, not solely of antibiotics,” he asserts.
AN Mohanan addresses the government’s direction to sell antibiotics in a blue cover. The mandate dictates that all antibiotics be sold in a blue-coloured bag, so that they can be easily identified. This applies to all medical stores, pharmacies and hospitals. Mohanan specifies that this decision may not be practical because the blue bags aren’t provided by the government. “The Kerala government should hold meetings with us before coming up with regulations, taking us into confidence. Certain things, like selling antibiotics in a blue cover, cannot be made mandatory because of the practical difficulties involved,” he explains. There have been instances where pharmacy licenses have been suspended for selling two or three tablets without a prescription, he notes. “However, when we speak against the unchecked use of antibiotics in our forums, there is a positive impact,” he says.
The impact has carried over; following the suspension of Kerala’s pharmacies in June, the Telangana Drug Control Administration (DCA), too, conducted a state-wide crackdown on its pharmacies. Raids across 193 establishments revealed widespread non-compliance: shops selling antibiotics freely without prescriptions, sales in the absence of qualified pharmacists, and without a proper record of the medicines sold. The raids have spurred the DCA into action, which has indicated a zero-tolerance policy.
In fact, even the general public has the power to make a change: the state provides a toll-free number where you can lodge complaints if you see a medical shop selling antibiotics without a prescription.
Even in the strongest of Kerala’s districts, a major cause of worry is that awareness against antibiotic overuse stands at 40% which demands augmented actions, says Dr. Aravind R, who heads the Department of Infectious Diseases at the Government Medical College, Thiruvananthapuram. Standardised metrics are used to measure this progress, like those set by the World Health Organization (WHO). Dr. Aravind R adds: “The state has achieved the WASH (Water, Sanitation and Hygiene) criteria of the WHO. Another criterion set by the WHO is that 70% of antibiotic use should be from the Access category.”
Dr Aravind is referring to the category system set up by the WHO to monitor antibiotics, called the AWaRe classification. It has three groups: Access, which includes first-choice antibiotics because they treat common infections and have a lower resistance potential; Watch, a group of antibiotics with higher resistance potential that should only be used for specific, limited infections; and finally the Reserve group, which includes last-resort drugs that should only be used to treat infections caused by multi-drug resistant bacteria, and are highly likely to further AMR. “Yet another milestone to achieve is the WHO’s direction to reduce AMR-associated deaths by 10% by 2030,” he adds.
Also read: How drug-resistant tuberculosis is bringing life to a halt in India
It is not enough to merely address the accessibility of antibiotics that are newly purchased; the extent of antimicrobial resistance is also defined by the usage of old antibiotics. Leaving unused strips and bottles of these drugs around poses risks because consuming them beyond the stipulated period can lead to further illnesses and increased resistance. The AMR intervention in Kerala recognises this, and the state has put into motion–through early pilot projects–the Programme on Removal of Unused Drugs (PROUD). In recent years, it has renewed this programme to sharpen the scope. The programme now collaborates with the Haritha Karma Sena or the Green Task Force, which is made up almost entirely of women engaged in the state’s waste management drive. Trained members of this group conduct door-to-door collection of unused medicines, including antibiotics.
“The idea is to first make people aware, and then act. We collected 28 tonnes of unused drugs from commercial establishments and households under the Corporation and the Panchayat. The change will be big when this is implemented across the state,” Dr Kumar adds.
Also read: Sivaranjani Santosh’s fight to knock mislabelled ORS off the shelf
Additional inputs from Neerja Deodhar and Anushka Mukherjee
Edited by Neerja Deodhar and Anushka Mukherjee
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.
If ragi were a person, it would be the quiet provider: never showy, always dependable. In the fields, it withstands droughts, on the plate, it fuels workers, children, and elders alike. Long before ‘superfoods’ became a buzzword, ragi—also called nachni (in Marathi), kezhvaragu (in Tamil), or mandia (in Odia)—was one of India’s original nutrient-dense grains.
Ragi is rich in iron, zinc, phosphorus, magnesium, and potassium, all essential for bone health, oxygen transport, and muscle function. Its low glycaemic index (50–68) means it releases glucose slowly into the bloodstream, preventing sugar spikes and keeping you full for longer. The grain’s high calcium content helps combat osteoporosis, while its amino acid composition—particularly methionine, threonine, and tryptophan (which are deficient in many cereals, including rice)—supports skin health and regulates cholesterol.
But like any grain, ragi has its limitations. It is deficient in certain essential amino acids, such as lysine, which help build proteins. Hence, it is best paired with pulses or legumes or dairy (which are higher in those amino acids) for complete proteins. Several traditional meals have these combinations:
The key is variety: when ragi is part of a plate that includes pulses, vegetables, and good fats, it becomes not just filling but functionally complete.
Fermentation, sprouting, and malting also enhance this balance. These processes reduce phytates (compounds that block mineral absorption), unlock the bioavailability of its nutrients and improve the digestibility of ragi’s dense starch. This is why ragi kanji, a lightly fermented drink, and malted ragi porridge are commonly given to help mothers with postpartum recovery and while weaning children.
Also read: A crop for the future: Why India should invest in ragi and its climate resilience
Across these states, ragi was never eaten in isolation. It was always part of a meal that balanced protein, fibre, and flavour—a wisdom that modern nutrition is only rediscovering now.
Also read: The grain divide: How ragi and rice compare in the field and on our plates
Ragi’s place in Indian culture runs deep. A Kannada proverb declares—“Hittam tindam bettam kittam” [The child who eats ragi mudde will grow strong enough to move mountains]. In Tamil, someone dependable is compared to kezhvaragu maavu—solid and sustaining. In Odisha, the saying goes “Mandia kha, parba pa”[Eat ragi and live long—a nod to its strength-giving character.
Such idioms show that ragi wasn’t just nutrition, it was part of peoples’ identity. Its earthy colour and humble texture mirrored the people who grew and ate it: rooted, frugal, enduring. When ragi disappeared from our fields and plates, we lost not only a source of calcium but a language of sustenance.
The urban appetite for ragi is steadily growing, driven by health-conscious consumers and the millet rebranding wave in recent times. According to the Indian Institute of Millets Research (IIMR), rising urban consumption has helped revive ragi cultivation in southern India, with a noticeable increase in the demand for millet-based foods over the past decade. Cafés serve ragi pancakes, startups sell ragi breakfast mixes and cookies, and fitness influencers call it a ‘natural calcium booster.’
While the resurgence of ragi-based foods offers promise, nutrition and policy experts caution the revival may be skin-deep. Despite the strong native nutrient profile of millets, many urban millet snacks, and ragi snacks by extension, may be refined, sugar-loaded and ultra-processed, thus diluting or negating the grain’s potential benefits.
To truly bring ragi back, urban consumers must embrace not just its name but also the traditional wisdom surrounding it. Public kitchens, midday meal schemes, and canteens could make a bigger difference here than boutique cafés. Ragi offers a model for what sustainable nutrition can look like: deeply local, nutritionally dense, culturally rooted, and ecologically suited to its land. But it also teaches a larger truth—that balance, not cornucopian abundance, shapes good food.
Also read: ‘Summer ragi’: How Kolhapur farmers’ millet experiment became a success story
{{quiz}}
From first aid, to CPR, to breastfeeding, to Oral Rehydration Solutions (ORS), Dr. Sivaranjani Santosh has ignited a change in the minds of parents by busting common paediatric myths that often do the rounds. Her manner is known to be sensible and calm, but she is equal parts fearless as she (publicly) calls out influencers who spread misinformation—not out of malice, but because she knows how inaccurate tips and advice can impact one’s health.
In the process, she has garnered over 452K followers on Instagram, but Dr. Sivaranjani is more than the storms she stirs on social media. A paediatrician with over two decades of experience, she began her career in hospitals where she was involved in neonatal care. Eventually, she shifted to independent consultations at her clinic at Magna Centres, Hyderabad, carefully moving her focus to preventative paediatrics: teaching good practices and accident prevention to parents, who could then minimise visits to doctors.
In 2018, one of her patients asked her if she can give her son ORSL when he is dehydrated. “It is ORS only, no? Give,” Dr. Sivaranjani replied. A few days later, the child was hospitalised, and the doctor faced with a puzzling question: how did her patient get so dehydrated despite drinking ORS, a solution specifically made for rehydration? When she asked to see the packet, she realised this product was not ORS—it had 10 times the sugar that ORS should! This shocking discovery became the basis of her fight against misleading ORS labels—a fight that has lasted eight years, and is now tantalisingly close to resolution.
The invention of ORS was premised on the sodium glucose co-transporter. Essentially, this method uses osmosis to hydrate our body. “ORS has exactly 75 millimoles per litre of both sodium and glucose. This is because one ion of sodium and one molecule of glucose will work together to drag water from the gut into the bloodstream using the sodium glucose co-transporter, where the body can utilise it,” Dr. Sivaranjani explains.
Dehydration is no ordinary matter; diarrhoeal diseases have historically been a major cause of child mortality, and continue to be the third-largest cause of death for children under 5 years of age worldwide. Every year, 1 to 3 lakh children die due to diarrhoea in India, Dr. Sivaranjani informs. It is something paediatricians continue to see in their clinics regularly, and they are deeply engaged in mitigating it. Irrespective of the cause, the resultant dehydration makes it deadly, because it robs our body of water and essential salts.
Symptomatically, it presents itself in the form of irritability, drowsiness, decreased urine output, sunken and dry eyes, dry mouth, and decreased skin turgor (elasticity). Slowly, the blood pressure of the individual falls, and multi-organ dysfunction may occur. Internally, it impairs organ function. Diarrhoeal dehydration is especially bad for us because the pace at which water and minerals are expelled is far greater, and the body’s timeframe to respond is shorter. The kidneys, particularly, are put under stress, and recurring dehydration has been linked with renal damage. In adults, this risk tends to be the greatest for diabetics and kidney patients. Children have a far lower threshold for fluid loss, making them especially vulnerable. A disproportionate number of these deaths continue to come from lower or lower-middle income countries, driven by contaminated water and poor sanitation.
The origins of ORS are an important reminder that it is a life-saving drug, and has been one since the very beginning.
Back in the 1960s, the disease was far more deadly; children would routinely die of cholera, dysentery, and other diarrhoeal diseases. The worst part is, these diseases were preventable and treatable even then, but the only way that doctors knew how to was through the intravenous (IV) fluid therapy. This required imported, breakable materials (like needles and glass bottles) and trained personnel to administer it. It was not a practical solution for a disease that spread like a wildfire.
Many scientists sought less-intensive solutions, and in 1953, Calcutta-based doctor Hemendra Nath Chatterjee even published a proposed formula for an oral rehydration solution in The Lancet. However, his findings did not capture the public imagination. It would take two decades, a war, and a quick-thinking Bengali paediatrician to do that. It was 1971, and a violent conflict was underway—one that would eventually lead to the genesis of Bangladesh. Refugees poured into India from the border; they would have to live in cramped unsanitary camps where they starved, contracted cholera and succumbed to it.
At this time, Dr. Dilip Mahalanabis was at the frontlines, working with Calcutta’s Johns Hopkins University International Centre for Medical Research and Training (JH-CMRT). Johns Hopkins sent a team to Bangaon, a municipality close to the India-and-erstwhile-East-Pakistan border, where Dr. Mahalanabis and his team were assigned with treating cholera-ridden patients.
It was immediately clear that there were not enough IV fluids, nor enough doctors to administer them. In a moment of inspiration, Dr. Mahalanabis turned to easily available ingredients—sodium, glucose, and bicarbonate—to prepare an easy-to-administer solution. The results were astounding: the case fatality rate of cholera fell from 30% to 1%. The simplicity and sweeping success of this solution made it gain acceptance across the globe. The origins of ORS are an important reminder that it is a life-saving drug, and has been one since the very beginning.
The 1:1 ratio Dr. Mahalanabis devised helps the sodium and glucose work in tandem. If either amount increases, it results in osmosis of water in the opposite direction—from the bloodstream to the gut—and worsens dehydration. This is why the World Health Organization (WHO)-recommended formula is sacrosanct: when coupled with its associated instructions, it ensures rehydration. For instance, depending on the packet size, the amount of water required for the solution changes: India has a 4.1 g version of ORS to be emptied into 200 ml water, and a 20.5 g version that needs to be emptied in 1 litre of water.
That said, the ORS we drink today is not quite the same as the one prepared by Dr. Mahalanabis all those decades ago. In 1984, the WHO revised Dr. Mahalanabis’s formula, replacing sodium bicarbonate with trisodium citrate to improve its stability in hot and humid climates. It also added potassium chloride to the formula to replenish the body’s supply of both potassium ions. Subsequently, in 2003, it reduced the concentration of sodium and glucose in the solution, which further reduced vomiting, stools and cases requiring IV treatment.
Also read: Add crisis to cart: Why instant delivery and antibiotics don't mix
In this landscape, there has been an emergence of electrolyte-filled fruit juices in pharmacies, general stores and quick commerce platforms, whose names—cushioned by various prefixes and suffixes—sound eerily similar to ORS. Since they are mainly sold at chemist shops, people often mistake these juices to be ORS. They assume that they got more dehydrated in spite of having ORS; in reality, they got more dehydrated because of this supposed rehydrating solution, an imbalanced formulation of sodium and glucose. The average affected patient never realises what transpired, and the makers of the juices are never held accountable. The first of these products was launched in 2014; other brands caught on to this strategy by 2018, and some have released as recently as 2024. These products, spilling over into the lifestyle category, are still considered part of the Rs. 1000 crore ORS market.
Naturally, one might ask: is this even legal? Sadly, the answer is yes. These brands register their products with the Food Safety and Standards Authority of India (FSSAI) and not the Central Drugs Standard Control Organisation (CDSCO), since they are technically classified as beverages, not drugs. “What the FSSAI has to do is determine whether it is safe or not. That's all. There are regulations about the sugar level in any Tetra Pack drink. They have to check whether it meets those norms. They don't have to check whether it is the WHO-recommended formula ORS or not,” says Dr. Sivaranjani. The use of loopholes like this is what the paediatrician finds devious, and indicative of a disregard for patient safety.
In India, there is no law regulating the sale of non-medicinal items by chemists, and it is quite common for chemists to store FMCG products as well. FMCG companies have exploited this regulatory lacuna by incorporating sales at chemist shops as part of a larger strategy to build credibility, especially in health adjacent products. Another trust-building activity is through a massive media machinery, built on promotions by both celebrities and acclaimed medical professionals.
When Dr. Sivaranjani first realised what was happening, she started combating it by telling everyone about it—her patients, her peers, and through social media, the public at large. In January 2018, she started an Instagram channel, and by March 2018, she was on YouTube as well. She would also cover first aid and other basics of paediatrics in videos—speaking in both Telugu and English.
However, at some point, Dr. Sivaranjani realised that making people aware was only one half of the task; convincing regulators to take action was the other half. In 2021, she started writing to the CDSCO. Though they first asked her for proof documentation, they eventually directed her to the FSSAI since these products were registered under the FSSAI, and not CDSCO. Dr. Sivaranjani wrote to the FSSAI regularly to no avail; she started writing to the central health ministry too, simultaneously. This paid off, and finally in early 2022, the central health ministry directed the FSSAI to look into it. In April 2022, the FSSAI released an order terming the use of ORS-like terms in fruit beverages as ‘Misbranded Food’ and banned the use of such terms in labels and advertisements. Naturally, these companies didn’t want to have to change their brand names—names they had poured money into building loyal consumers for. They argued that they had valid trademarks for these names, and the FSSAI yielded in July 2022, allowing them to retain trademarked ORS-like names, at least until the Controller General of Patents, Designs and Trade Marks (CGPDTM) reviewed their situation.
In this landscape, there has been an emergence of electrolyte-filled fruit juices in pharmacies, general stores and quick commerce platforms, whose names—cushioned by various prefixes and suffixes—sound eerily similar to ORS.
The only additional condition the FSSAI imposed was that these companies had to declare, on the front of the pack, that their product is not the WHO-recommended ORS. In February 2024, the Controller General upheld the FSSAI’s July 2022 order—the trademarked false ORS brands could stay as long as they made their disclaimers.
Dr. Sivaranjani explains why these disclaimers don’t work: “That disclaimer appears in such small print that nobody even bothers to read it. And they have continued their business everywhere—in all pharmacies, all hospitals, all clinics. Even ICU patients are being given these drinks.” Thanks to her personal outreach and social media presence, some hospitals have stopped keeping these beverages in their pharmacies, but these much-needed measures are coming from individual practitioners, not from the brands that are claiming to be committed to patient welfare.
The risk posed by mislabelled ORS is increasing because people are turning to it to mitigate not only diarrhoea-induced dehydration, but also heatwave-induced dehydration. The intense heatwaves India has experienced over the past few summers bear witness to this: last year, 6.8 lakh sachets of ORS were sold in the month of May alone; and this year, there was a Rs. 21 crore jump in earnings from ORS sales as early as March. Demand for the drug lasts well into the monsoon as water-borne diseases find prevalence. As extreme climate events increase, the reliance on ORS is only going to intensify.
“Once they reverted the order, what else could I do?” says Dr. Siavaranjani. “I had no other choice. I had to file a Public Interest Litigation in the Telangana High Court.” She moved the court to take action against authorities for failing to prosecute companies engaged in misleading labelling and advertising of ORS.
However, at some point, Dr. Sivaranjani realised that making people aware was only one half of the task; convincing regulators to take action was the other half.
This made her fight more public than ever. In March of 2024, on the day before her first court hearing, Dr. Sivaranjani put up a heartfelt post on Instagram about the despair that comes with a fight that gets dragged on for so long while the children of our country continue to suffer. She did not envisage the outpouring of support that one spontaneous post would create—but she is grateful for it. Many doctors online amplified the cause, and helped strengthen public support for Dr. Sivaranjani’s petition. But more importantly, they gave her the hope to keep going. “Many influencers and doctors are supporting [this cause]. People are supporting [it]. I’m feeling more empowered.”
In 2025, the Endocrine Society of India and Women Pediatricians Forum impleaded in her case, adding further to the soundness of the plea. The case, being heard by the Chief Justice of Telangana High Court, is still underway and has had only two hearings so far. In June 2025, she wrote once again to the Ministry of Health and Family Welfare and the Prime Minister's Office with proof about fruit beverages.
Things took a turn on October 14, when the FSSAI withdrew the two previous orders which required these misleading brands to print disclaimers: July 2022 and February 2024. The next day, the FSSAI issued a clarification regarding the withdrawal, asserting that the use of the term ORS, even with prefixes or suffixes, is in violation of the Food Safety and Standards Act, counts as a misleading label, and is liable for punishment accordingly with immediate effect.
On 16 October, JNTL Consumer Health (India) Pvt. Ltd, which manufactures ORSL, approached the Delhi High Court, arguing that this order was too sudden, revoked prior permissions the company had secured, and would cause significant commercial loss given the company’s unsold stock amounting to Rs.155-180 crores. On 17 October, the Delhi High Court stayed the FSSAI order, asserting that JNTL had the right to present its side, and gave the company a week to make its representation on the matter. Justice Sachin Datta stressed that FSSAI cannot implement its directive till the company is given adequate opportunity of hearing. After giving these directions, the Delhi High Court disposed of the petition, leaving the final decision up to the FSSAI.
Over the past week, there has been public outrage at the continued sales of these beverages.
Nothing was heard from the FSSAI. It is unknown if JNTL made its representation or not. But Dr. Sivaranjani says that regardless of whether the representation was made, the FSSAI should have acted. “Either JNTL gave a representation and the FSSAI should have given its decision saying they are implementing the order of 14 and 15 October. If JNTL did not give a representation within the stipulated time, they should have gone ahead and implemented the order,” she said.
Over the past week, there has been public outrage at the continued sales of these beverages. However, zonal officers claim powerlessness in stopping sales until directives come from the Centre. In a Times of India report, additional safety controller, FSSAI (Telangana) P Dharmender, confirmed that they had served notices to these companies to stop production, but until they receive new directions from the FSSAI headquarters in New Delhi, they cannot enforce the ban.
In the meantime, Dr. Sivaranjani urges consumers to let their actions speak. “Boycott these companies and pharmacies if they try to push these liquids into the bodies of our children," she said on her social media account.
Despite these twists and turns, the doctor’s spirits remain bolstered thanks to public support: “I have faith that yes, maybe it will happen. Though the road still looks a little long, I think we will reach the end.”
Artwork by Nayanika Chatterjee
Also read: How drug-resistant tuberculosis is bringing life to a halt in India
Edited by Neerja Deodhar and Anushka Mukherjee
{{quiz}}
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.
For decades, the question of what India eats has been shaped more by policy than by the plate. Starting from the 1960s and 70s, the Green Revolution put rice and wheat at the centre of our food system. In the face of famine and dwindling reserves, experts agreed to focus on these two cereals instead of millets. The reason? The yield on millets was low. Rice and wheat cultivation, on the other hand, could be scaled economically.
Among other factors, the genetic material and knowledge needed to develop high-yielding varieties (HYVs) of rice and wheat already existed in countries like Japan and China; scientists could quickly use these existing genetically modified varieties to cross with and engineer a solution to the problem at hand. But this decision pushed indigenous grains like ragi to the margins.
Policy choices entrenched this divide further. From the 1960s, government procurement, subsidies, and research investments overwhelmingly favoured rice and wheat. These crops became central to India’s food security strategy under the Public Distribution System (PDS), which bought and distributed them at subsidised rates. Millets, meanwhile, received little institutional support — no assured markets, storage, or price incentives — pushing farmers to abandon them despite their local adaptability.
But now, as the country faces erratic monsoons, depleting groundwater, and rising incidence of lifestyle diseases, the debate between choosing to grow and eat ragi vs rice is no longer just about taste or tradition — it’s about survival.
Also read: Why India should invest in ragi and its climate resilience
When it comes to nutrition, the difference is stark: A 100g serving of ragi or finger millet contains about 336 calories, 7–13g of protein, 70–80g of carbohydrates, and about 3g of fiber. It’s rich in iron, magnesium, and especially calcium—offering nearly 344 mg per 100g, one of the highest among cereals. Its glycaemic index (GI) ranges between 54 and 68, meaning it releases sugar slowly into the bloodstream, helping regulate blood sugar levels. Fermenting, sprouting or “malting” ragi–which can easily be done at home, too–unlocks the bioavailability of its nutrients, making them easier to absorb and digest.
Polished white rice, by contrast, delivers around 365 calories per 100g (uncooked), similar protein (6–7g), but almost no fiber or micronutrients—most are lost when the bran and germ are removed during milling. Its GI often ranges from 70 to 100, depending on the variety, leading to quicker spikes in blood sugar. The only significant mineral left is manganese.
Polished white rice, by contrast, delivers around 365 calories per 100g (uncooked), similar protein (6–7g), but almost no fiber or micronutrients—most are lost when the bran and germ are removed during milling.
That’s why discussions around rice fortification have become so common — because most of what we eat has already been stripped bare. Ragi, on the other hand, provides a natural multivitamin in grain form. Ragi has more nutritional properties than rice. Traditionally, growing ragi meant a balanced diet for the entire family throughout the year.
The contrast isn’t bound to the table — it starts in the soil.
Rice is often cultivated as a monocrop, grown across large, water-intensive fields. It requires standing water or controlled irrigation, has traditionally relied on the heavy use of fertilisers and pesticides, and uniform planting for mechanical harvesting. In return, it gives high yields, but at a cost. India’s paddy fields guzzle nearly 4,000–5,000 litres of water per kg of rice, making it one of the most water-hungry staples in the world.
Ragi, in comparison, is a climate-resilient crop that thrives in dryland conditions on rainfed land. It can grow with just a few monsoon showers, on drier soils, and with minimal external inputs. It matures in 100–130 days, stores well for years, and rarely faces pest attacks.
India’s paddy fields guzzle nearly 4,000–5,000 litres of water per kg of rice, making it one of the most water-hungry staples in the world.
Traditionally, ragi wasn’t grown alone. It was part of Akkadi Saalu, the Kannada term for a mixed-cropping system where up to seven or eight crops—including pulses, oilseeds, and vegetables—were cultivated together. This not only insured families against risk if one crop failed, but made sure they had diverse sources of food and nutrition year-round.
Growing ragi along with 7–8 other crops meant a complete diet — grains, greens, pulses — all from one field. But mechanisation changed that. Machine sowing and harvesting work best for uniform fields. Slowly, the multi-crop tapestry disappeared, and ragi, too, became a monocrop. This can affect the crop’s yield, the health of the soil and its resilience against climate shocks.
Also read: Summer ragi: How Kolhapur farmers' millet experiment became a success story
Ragi’s resilience is not romantic nostalgia; it’s agronomic science. The crop evolved for semi-arid, rainfed ecosystems, thriving where most cereals fail. According to the Tamil Nadu Agricultural University’s crop guides, rice typically requires around 1,100–1,250 mm of water over its growing period, while ragi can grow successfully with as little as 350–400 mm of seasonal rainfall in semi-arid regions.
Unlike rice, it does not emit methane during cultivation, making it a low-emission cereal—critical in the context of agriculture’s growing carbon footprint.
Its root system is fibrous and deep, helping it draw moisture from lower soil layers and prevent erosion. It also improves soil structure and organic matter, which enhances water retention for subsequent crops. Because it’s largely pest- and disease-resistant, farmers can avoid pesticide dependence, making it ideal for low-input, organic, or regenerative systems.
Ragi’s short growing season makes it adaptable to erratic monsoon patterns. It can be sown late, intercropped with pulses, or grown as a catch crop after early rains (catch crops are fast-growing crops that are planted post the harvest season and prior to the sowing season of a main crop, to improve soil health, prevent erosion and to avoid leaving the farm fallow). Unlike rice, it does not emit methane during cultivation, making it a low-emission cereal—critical in the context of agriculture’s growing carbon footprint.
However, it’s also important to understand that both ragi and rice have evolved according to the seasonal patterns of different regions. For instance, only paddy can grow in farms that flood during the monsoon and have stagnant water. Both rice and ragi have their own footholds in our body’s nutritional requirements. Neither can be unequivocally substituted by the other.
Historically skewed policies of grain procurement have started to shift – but change is slow. For instance, during the 2022-23 season the government approved the procurement of 13.28 lakh tonnes of millets and coarse‐grains (including the likes of ragi) for inclusion in the PDS, yet only about 17% of this figure was actually procured. Meanwhile, rice procurement stood at 520 lakh tonnes in the same fiscal year. In the 2023-24 season, at least six states committed to distributing coarse grains during the Kharif marketing season (as part of the National Food Safety Act, 2013), partially replacing rice and wheat – but procurement remained low, once again.
In many parts of Karnataka, Tamil Nadu, and Odisha, ragi is being reintroduced in climate adaptation programmes (despite facing hurdles) because it’s less risky under unpredictable weather. Where paddy fails after a drought or delayed monsoon, ragi still grows, securing both income and nutrition for farming households. It doesn’t let people go hungry.
In moving from millet diversity to cereal uniformity, India traded resilience for productivity, nutrition for calories. As the UN’s International Year of Millets (2023) reminded us, they are the ‘future of food’ precisely because they were once the past.
If rice built modern India, ragi may help sustain it.
{{quiz}}
Please try another keyword to match the results
