By Faisal Rashid Bhat
Kashmir has always been painted as a valley of blossoms, where every season carries its own fragrance of survival. But today, that fragrance has been replaced by the unbearable stench of rotting apples. Once again, the Valley is on its knees—first struck by the shockwaves of the Pahalgam attack that crippled tourism, and now crushed under the weight of negligence in transportation.
For more than ten days, loaded trucks have stood helplessly on NH-44, the only artery that connects Kashmir’s apples to India’s heartland. These apples were meant for the markets of Delhi, Mumbai, and beyond. Instead, they are trapped in the prison of a closed highway—softening, decaying, and dying before ever reaching a buyer.
“We watered them with our sweat,
We nurtured them with hope,
But they are dying on the roadside
Just like our dreams.”
The apple is not just a fruit for Kashmir; it is the bloodline of our economy. From Sopore to Shopian, from Pulwama to Baramulla, every orchard is not merely a farm—it is a family’s kitchen, a child’s education, a parent’s medicine. This year, that bloodline has been poisoned.
Farmers, who invested all their strength and money, are watching their hard work decay in boxes. Tears are flowing faster than rivers, because when apples rot, everything rots—our income, our dignity, our tomorrow.
“A farmer’s heart breaks silently,
No sound, no scream,
Only the quiet fall of apples,
That no one bends to pick.”
In 2025, the backbone of Kashmir has been broken. The apple industry, which provides livelihood to lakhs of families, lies paralyzed. And the silence of those in power is deafening. Every passing day adds to the pile of losses, and every delay deepens the wound.
This is not just an agricultural crisis; this is an economic catastrophe. The government’s irresponsibility has turned golden harvests into garbage. While the farmers cry for justice, the apples rot—and with them, the trust of an entire community in the system meant to protect it.
“We do not ask for sympathy,
We ask for justice.
We do not beg for alms,
We beg for dignity.”
If the lifeline of Kashmir is not protected—if the apple industry continues to be neglected—the Valley will sink into an economic darkness from which recovery may take decades. Farmers cannot survive on hollow promises. They need action—swift, decisive, and honest.
Our apples feed the nation. Yet today, our farmers struggle to feed their own children. The time to act is not tomorrow, not next week, but now.
“Apples are dying,
Farmers are crying,
And Kashmir’s backbone is breaking.
Who will listen?”
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of our editorial team. The Author can be reached at [email protected]
