When roads fail, dreams wither
The Srinagar-Jammu National Highway is not just a road for Kashmir. It is the valley’s lifeline, a thread that connects orchards to markets, labourers to wages and families to economic stability. For decades, this highway has carried the rhythm of Kashmiri life. But when it fails, when floods wash away stretches, when landslides bury bends, when trucks stand still, the entire valley gasps for breath. This September, as torrential rains and landslides closed the highway for days, the highway’s fragility became visible again. Trucks loaded with apples, carefully harvested after months of toil, stood stranded on muddy verges. Growers waited helplessly as cartons of fruit began to rot, each passing hour erasing weeks of effort. The tragedy was not silent: it echoed across mandis that shut in protest, across households staring at unpaid loans and across villages where despair settled heavier than the rains.
Kashmir is not a marginal player in India’s fruit basket. According to government figures, Jammu & Kashmir produces around 20.5 lakh metric tonnes of apples annually, roughly 75% of India’s total apple produce. The region’s apple belt stretches from Sopore and Pulwama to Shopian, Budgam and Baramulla, feeding millions. Nearly 3.5 million people are directly or indirectly engaged in this horticulture economy as orchardists, transporters, packers, traders and labourers. For families, apples are more than a commodity. They are the year’s wager. Income from one harvest pays for children’s education, winter supplies, marriages and savings. A lost harvest is not just a missed deal; it is a year gone hollow.
During this year’s closures, losses mounted quickly. Reuters reported damages of around ₹600–700 crore due to floods, landslides and transport disruptions. Apples rotted in stranded trucks. By the time markets reopened, rates had fallen as fruit quality declined. A Pulwama farmer told reporters: “My truck has been stuck for days. Half my produce is wasted.” That testimony was echoed across the valley, where growers watched their season collapse in slow motion. The pain is not borne by farmers alone. When fruit spoils, transporters lose fares, labourers lose wages, mandis lose trade and shopkeepers lose customers.
Much of this crisis stems from inadequate infrastructure. Kashmir’s controlled atmosphere storage capacity stands at only 2.70 lakh metric tonnes, with an additional 0.37 lakh tonnes planned, bringing total capacity to about 3.07 LMT. For a region producing over 20 LMT, this is a drop in the bucket. Without storage, growers remain at the mercy of weather, road conditions and fluctuating demand. The highway itself is a bottleneck. Landslides are frequent, repairs are slow and alternate routes are scarce. Tunnel projects are underway but delayed. Each closure reminds Kashmiris that their economic backbone rests on a single, fragile spine.
There have been gestures of relief. Indian Railways has started special parcel trains from Budgam to Delhi, aiming to bypass highway bottlenecks. These trains have moved thousands of tonnes, but they are no substitute for systemic reform. Cold-chain expansion, crop-and-transport insurance, alternate corridors and resilient logistics remain unfinished promises. In the meantime, farmers watch helplessly. “We do not need sympathy speeches,” one grower remarked in Sopore. “We need roads that stay open.”
What Kashmir needs? Kashmir doesn’t need a piecemeal relief but a vision backed by political will and investment equal to the sector’s importance. The first step is building highway resilience by fast-tracking tunnels, slope-protection works and alternate corridors that can remain functional even during floods or landslides. At the same time, a storage revolution is essential; cold storage and controlled atmosphere facilities must be scaled up to at least 10 lakh tonnes within five years, so that fruit is safeguarded in crises and farmers can negotiate from a position of strength. Insurance, too, must evolve beyond crop loss to cover transport disruptions caused by road blockages, while emergency protocols should ensure that perishable produce can be swiftly moved through rail, or air. Finally, market reforms are critical, farmers need digital platforms and direct-market access to reduce dependence on a single fragile highway and to make sure their livelihoods are not held hostage to landslides and weather.
For the rest of India, an apple is a snack. For Kashmir, it is memory, tradition, survival. Generations have grafted, pruned and harvested these orchards, turning hillsides into living economies. To see that legacy dumped in roadside ditches is to watch hope decay. The emotional toll is as deep as the financial one. Children see their parent’s despair, young men and women watch futures collapse under debt. In villages across Shopian or Pulwama, the sight of rotting fruit has become a symbol not of nature’s wrath, but of human neglect.
A plea, not for sympathy but for action
If Kashmir’s apples rot again next year for the same reasons, it will not be an accident. It will be a policy failure. The growers of Kashmir are not asking for miracles. They are asking for roads that don’t crumble every monsoon, for storage that matches their production, for policies that protect their hard work from going waste. Kashmir’s orchards have carried the valley through decades of turmoil, giving families dignity and self-reliance. Protecting them is not charity, it is obligation. If the highway is allowed to remain a weak promise, then Kashmir’s economy will remain trapped in the mud, year after year.
The orchardists are waiting. The trucks are waiting. The fruit is waiting. How much longer can a valley’s heartbeat be asked to hold?
Saba Ashraf Khanyari,
Ph.D. Scholar, IUST Awantipora
