Zulfikar Majid
Srinagar: As Dal Lake begins to freeze during ‘Chilai Kalan’, Kashmir’s 40-days harshest winter period, a small group of lotus stem harvesters step into its icy waters each morning to earn a living.
Wading chest-deep into sub-zero temperatures, they extract ‘nadru’—lotus stems that grow naturally in the lake—through a practice that is as dangerous as it is disappearing.
For many, it is the only winter livelihood left.
Braving temperatures that can go as low as minus 8 degrees Celsius, harvesters enter Dal Lake before dawn, feeling their way through layers of silt and lake filling using bare hands and traditional wooden tools. Working for hours in freezing conditions, they repeatedly plunge into frigid water to locate and pull out lotus stems buried deep in the lakebed, often emerging shivering and exhausted.
Unlike cultivated crops, ‘nadru’ grows wild, making it highly sensitive to ecological stress. Environmental assessments of Dal Lake have consistently pointed to untreated sewage, solid waste, siltation, weed infestation, and encroachments as major threats to the lake’s ecosystem. Repeated dredging and deweeding operations, aimed at restoring navigability and water flow, have also disturbed lake beds where lotus roots naturally thrive.
While official data on lotus growth is not maintained, harvesters say natural patches have steadily shrunk over the past two decades. Many report that winter collections are now a fraction of what they were in the early 2000s, forcing families to supplement incomes through daily wage labour or abandon the occupation altogether.
In Srinagar’s markets, lotus stems typically sell for ₹150 to ₹250 per kilogram, depending on quality. However, fluctuating availability and rising household expenses mean earnings remain uncertain, especially during harsh winters.
Even as the livelihood weakens, the winter harvest has become an unlikely attraction for visitors. Tourists staying in houseboats or riding shikaras often stop to watch harvesters disappear beneath the icy surface and re-emerge minutes later clutching pale bundles of nadru.
Many record videos or ask how long a person can endure such a cold. “People are shocked,” said a shikara operator. “Some say they feel cold just watching.”
For the harvesters, however, curiosity brings little relief. Most lack protective gear, health insurance, or formal recognition as traditional lake-dependent workers. Younger generations are increasingly unwilling to enter freezing waters, accelerating fears that the practice may not survive another generation.
“This is not just about income,” said Ghulam Mohammad, another harvester, his hands cracked from cold exposure. “Nadru is part of Kashmir’s food and culture. If this ends, the lake will lose a part of its identity.”
As Dal Lake continues to freeze each winter, the sight of lotus harvesters braving its depths grows rarer—an enduring reminder of how climate stress, environmental decline, and changing aspirations are quietly reshaping life on Kashmir’s most iconic water body.