Apples left hanging as Kashmir growers halt harvest amid highway blockade

How can we pluck apples when the first consignment I sent is rotting in a stranded truck on the highway, asks a grower

Baramulla (J&K): In Kashmir’s famed apple belt, the orchards should have been buzzing with life by now. Ladders leaning against tree trunks, children carrying half-filled baskets, women sorting apples into wooden boxes, and men shouting prices as trucks line up at the village edge. Instead, there is silence.

 
The apples hang heavy and untouched, their crimson sheen a cruel reminder of a harvest put on hold.

“We were ready for the season,” said Abdul Majeed, an orchardist in Tangmarg, brushing his hand across a cluster of apples still clinging to the branch. “But how can we pluck them when the first consignment I sent is rotting in a stranded truck on the highway? It feels like all our sweat and toil are being buried under the landslides of Udhampur.”

The halt has caused ripples across the Valley. Migrant workers from Bihar and Uttar Pradesh, who usually flood the orchards during these weeks, now sit idle under the shade of walnut trees. “Every year, this is the time we earn most of our wages,” said Sanjay Kumar. “We are waiting, but waiting doesn’t fill our stomachs.”

For families, the pause has disrupted rhythms passed down generations. “We had stacked cartons, ready to pack,” said Fatima, a grower’s wife in the nearby Pattan area. “Now they lie piled in a corner, collecting dust. We listen to weather updates more than the news. One hailstorm, and everything will be gone.”

Growers say the orchard is the only bank they trust — their year’s savings hanging on the trees. But each passing day of delay is filled with dread. “Every morning I walk through these rows with fear,” said Abdul Hamid Dar, a father of three. “I look at the sky, not the ground. A black cloud could mean ruin. We don’t sleep well anymore.”

The government’s much-publicised parcel train from Budgam to Delhi brought a flicker of hope, but for growers it remains more symbolic than practical. “A handful of wagons cannot carry the burden of Kashmir’s orchards,” Dar said. “Our apples cannot wait for ceremonies and promises. They need roads.”

In the orchards, the fruit keeps ripening, the branches sag lower, and the silence deepens. For growers and labourers alike, it is a silence filled with fear — of highways that don’t open, of skies that may turn cruel and of a harvest that hangs between hope and heartbreak.