Kashmir’s farmers brace heatwave as paddy season takes root

Srinagar, May 23: From the terraced slopes of Budgam to the expansive fields of Baramulla, farmers are once again writing poetry with their hands in the ancient language of rice cultivation.

The season carries extra weight this year, with mercury touching unprecedented highs and traditional water sources playing hard to get. Yet in village after village, the eternal dance between human determination and nature’s whims continues with remarkable grace and unexpected humour.

The sun hasn’t fully risen over Pahallan village when Ghulam Hassan steps into his flooded field, the cool water a welcome relief against his ankles. At 52, his movements carry the fluid precision of three decades spent coaxing life from Kashmir’s soil.

“Each morning, I greet my field like an old friend,” Hassan says, his weathered hands selecting the healthiest saplings from bundles floating nearby. We’ve been through droughts together, floods together, good years and lean years. This partnership has fed three generations of my family.”

His teenage son Aaqib works alongside him, occasionally fumbling with the delicate transplanting technique. “Baba keeps saying rice cultivation is an art form,” Aaqib laughs, straightening a crooked row of saplings. “I tell him it’s more like meditation – you have to clear your mind and let your hands do the thinking.”

The field resonates with the gentle murmur of workers, punctuated by bursts of laughter when someone loses their footing in the soft mud. Hassan’s wife Fatima, arrives with a thermos of kehwa and homemade rotis, setting up an impromptu breakfast under the shade of a nearby chinar tree.

In the village square of Lolpora in Pattan, beneath a centuries-old plane tree, the daily congregation of elders has already begun their animated weather predictions. Abdul Rehman Wani, the unofficial village meteorologist at 78, holds court with his walking stick as a pointer.

“Mark my words, the rains will come on June 15th,” Wani declares with the confidence of someone who has witnessed 58 paddy seasons. “The clouds are gathering differently this year – higher, more reluctant. But they always keep their promise to Kashmir.”

His prediction draws sceptical murmurs from younger farmers. Mohammad Ashraf Lone, a progressive farmer who checks weather apps on his smartphone, shakes his head good-naturedly. “Wani sahib, the meteorological department says drought conditions will persist until June end.”

As twilight paints the sky in shades of pink and gold, the fields of Tangmarg come alive with a different kind of energy. Farming families gather for evening meals on field edges, sharing stories of the day’s progress while children play hide-and-seek among the transplanted rows.

The night sky, unpolluted by city lights, stretches endlessly above the water-mirror fields, reflecting stars that seem to dance among the floating saplings. It’s a scene that has remained unchanged for centuries, a testament to the enduring bond between Kashmir’s people and their fertile valleys.

As another day of the paddy season ends, farmers across the region sleep with the satisfaction of work well done and dreams of golden harvests to come. Tomorrow will bring its own challenges and joys, continuing the ancient rhythm that has sustained Kashmir’s people through countless seasons of change and continuity.

The fields rest under starlight, cradling tomorrow’s sustenance in their muddy embrace, while the eternal partnership between human hands and nature’s bounty prepares for another day of patient cultivation.