Slow yet steady, Punjab farmers pave the way for revival of organic desi cotton

Indigenous cotton cultivation set to increase in Malwa region as farmers try to improve land quality lost due to the gradual shift to monocropping and high chemical pesticide use Sri Muktsar Sahib, Fazilka and Faridkot, Punjab: For the third consecutive year, Balwinder Singh (60) of Mallan village in Punjab’s Sri Muktsar Sahib district is cultivating cotton organically. Between April and November, his three-acre farm located on a higher elevation hosts cotton on half-an-acre, alongside either groundnuts, green gram or pearl millet.Balwinder has another two acres of low-lying land where water-intensive crops such as rice and sugarcane thrive with the help of canal water and a tubewell. These crops are sold in the local mandis (marketplaces) for more reliable prices than his organic cotton.Balwinder sought to reconnect with traditional farming methods after taking over the land from his elder brothers on his retirement from the Indian Army. “I wanted to plant these seeds not only to grow nutritious fodder for a desi cow I was planning to buy, but also to improve the diet of my family, including my wife who is diabetic and two daughters,” says Balwinder.  Farmer Balwinder Singh at his farmland in Punjab (Photo - Sanskriti Talwar, 101Reporters)His search for indigenous cotton variety, known locally as kaali kapas, ended in a naught in the initial two years of organic farming as shopkeepers would sell him seeds labelled as kaali kapas, but were not actually the genuine variety. Balwinder distinctly remembered the traits of kaali kapas that his father used to grow when he was a teenager. “Its leaves would turn dry when the crop matured. It was less prone to diseases and required less water. It thrived even on plots at higher elevations that were difficult to irrigate,” he recalls.So in February this year, Balwinder travelled 100 km to Dhingawali in Fazilka district, where he sourced the authentic indigenous cotton seeds from Surendra Pal Singh, whose family has been cultivating the crop for five generations.“I have shared these seeds with farmers in Punjab, Rajasthan and Haryana,” says Surendra (62), whose family land totalling 300 acres is divided among three brothers. Their primary reason for growing indigenous cotton is to make oil cake from its seeds to keep their over 100 cows in good stead.  Eighty acres are dedicated to organic farming, where the family grows both indigenous and American cotton (narma) on about three to 12 acres, and sorghum, pearl millet, legumes and citrus fruits. “In most cases, farmers switched to organic farming due to a health condition in the family. But we prioritise flavour, taste and aroma because we have always eaten food grown in our fields,” says Surendra.However, Surendra and his family still grow Bt cotton using chemical farming methods on about 50 to 90 acres. That plot is at a distance from where they do organic farming. “It is out of helplessness that we grow it. How else do we survive in the business of farming? We did not shift to paddy as only a small amount of canal water reaches this tail-end area.” The sandy soil beneath his feet reflects the characteristics of this semi-arid region, which shares borders with Rajasthan to the south and Haryana to the east. The local language, Bagri, is a blend of Rajasthani, Haryanvi and Punjabi, along with vocabulary influenced by Marathi and Gujarati.Plant of organically grown cotton (Photo - Sanskriti Talwar, 101Reporters)The big shift Cotton has traditionally been grown in southern Punjab, particularly in Bathinda, Mansa, Fazilka and Sri Muktsar Sahib. Originally, indigenous cotton (desi kapas) was widespread across these regions. With its shorter fibres, it was ideal for household pillows, quilts and mattresses. Narma, which offered higher yields and longer fibres that suited the textile industry, was introduced in the mid-20th century.It quickly became the dominant crop, but large-scale monoculture made it highly susceptible to pests, especially the cotton bollworm. Farmers increasingly relied on chemical pesticides, which initially controlled pests but eventually led to resistance.The later introduction of Bt cotton — genetically modified to resist bollworms — provided temporary relief, but soon faced resistance from pink bollworms. With yields declining, many shifted to crops with high market demand and minimum support prices (MSPs). Earlier, cotton cultivation in Punjab ranged between nine to 14 lakh acres, peaking at 18 lakh acres in 1988-89. However, by 2022-23, it had plummeted to nearly six lakh acres.“Muthi bhar kisan hi hai vo bhi muthi bhar hi ye fasal laga rahe hai,” says Kanwarjit Singh Brar (42) of Udekaran in Sri Muktsar Sahib, highlighting that only a handful of farmers grow cotton.“A farmer can earn up to Rs 1 lakh per acre from growing Basmati rice, whereas he earns only about Rs 30,000 per acre from growing cotton, be it organic or Bt,” he details. The market value for all cotton grown whichever way are the same at just over Rs 7,000 per quintal.Brar manages 32 acres across three plots, practising organic farming on 4.5 acres where he grows citrus fruits, fodder crops, and a small patch of indigenous cotton (about 0.25 acre) mainly as green manure for wheat.Balwinder still considers the lower yield of two quintals from his rain-fed kaali kapas far more advantageous, primarily due to the absence of chemical inputs. He notes that it could have reached three quintals with just one more rainfall.  Organically grown desi kapas and narma typically provide a yield of five to eight quintals per acre. For chemically grown Bt cotton, the yield is between five and 12 quintals per acre. It is suggested that on average Bt yields 10 quintal per acre.However, Rupsi Garg of Kheti Virasat Mission (KVM), a non-profit promoting organic farming in Punjab, claims that the yields are more or less the same now. “The Bt yield is no longer 10 quintal, but six to seven.”Sukhmander Singh (44) from Sarawan in Faridkot district has 12 acres of land. Of the total 1.5 acres under organic cultivation, kaali kapas occupies half an acre. He notes that cotton MSP fails to reflect its labour demands, especially of desi kapas, which requires up to three rounds of picking.   “With narma, a single harvest can suffice for 15 to 20 days as its fibre is robust and does not fall off easily. However, with desi kapas, even if a dog walks past, the cotton falls to the ground and gets ruined,” Balwinder adds.Farmer Sukhmander Singh (on left) with Gora Singh (on right) of Trinjan, Kheti Virasat Mission (Photo - Sanskriti Talwar, 101Reporters)Harnessing biodiversity  Be it desi kapas or narma, organically grown cotton is not entirely resistant to pests. However, Dr Vijay Kumar, principal entomologist, Punjab Agricultural University (PAU), tells 101Reporters that both these varieties are less prone to pest attacks compared to Bt cotton.“Cotton is a six-month-duration crop and is naturally prone to pests. But farmers growing it organically try to minimise damage by maintaining plant health, selecting the right variety, ensuring proper spacing and managing pests early using yellow sticky traps or biopesticides,” Dr Vijay explains.Between narma and desi kapas, the latter is less prone to pests due to its inbuilt resistance through co-evolution process. “Indigenous cotton is less prone to sucking pest attacks compared to Bt hybrid. The hybrid's leaves are greener, which makes it easier for pests to chew and suck the sap,” says Jasjinder Kaur, entomologist (cotton), PAU. Vinod Kumar Jyani (61) from Katerha in Fazilka district shares how his 130-acre farm adopted organic farming. “The soil had become lifeless due to heavy reliance on DAP [Diammonium Phosphate], urea and zinc. It took about three years to remove chemical residues from the soil. After using jeev amrit — a mixture of cow dung, cow urine, jaggery and water — for five to 10 years, earthworms and birds returned, trees grew taller, and a natural ecosystem thrived,” Vinod explains.Farmer Vinod Kumar Jyani of Katerha village in Fazilka district (Photo - Sanskriti Talwar, 101Reporters)His farm has around 20,000 trees, which provides an additional income from timber. He also hosts families, office meetings and school picnics on about 10 acres.To maintain soil fertility, Vinod rotates crops, alternating pulses with wheat, and optimises nutrient use by planting green gram after wheat. He also alternates chickpeas with cotton or pearl millet.“We do intercropping and trap cropping. For instance, we plant pigeon pea around cotton, and pearl millet and cowpea between cotton rows. Insects first target the pigeon pea, attracting predators to manage pests. Birds feed on pests lurking under pearl millet, while cowpea attracts sucking pests that ladybugs and beetles prey on.”If necessary, Surendra says, they use organic pesticides made from datura (thorn apple), aak (calotropis), garlic, ginger, green chillies, buttermilk and neem leaves.Surendar Pal showing fibres of organic American cotton (Photo - Sanskriti Talwar, 101Reporters) From farm to fabric Recognising the undervaluation of organic desi kapas, Surendra decided to produce his own fabric by saving a tonne of cotton in a matter of four years. In 2015, he got it processed at a power loom in Bareilly, Uttar Pradesh. “It was costly and challenging as there were no local processing units,” he says.To address the issue, Surendra, along with KVM, collaborated with about 20 farmers who organically cultivate desi kapas and narma. In 2018, Garg established a value chain for processing organic cotton sourced directly from these farmers by paying Rs 190 per kg against the market rate of Rs 160. She also launched Trinjan, an initiative enabling village women skilled in using charkhas and handlooms to work from home. Gurcharan Kaur spinning yarn from organic cotton on a charkha (Photo - Sanskriti Talwar, 101Reporters)However, former PAU vice chancellor Dr Baldev Singh Dhillon tells 101Reporters that organic cotton has limited market potential, relying on consumers’ willingness to pay a premium. “But it is more environmentally sustainable,” he adds.Surendra acknowledges that it is a work in progress. “Competing with the established textile industry is tough. The high price reflects the labour and sustainable practices involved.”For now, these farmers take pride in wearing garments made from their organic cotton, celebrating their heritage and commitment to sustainability.A pile of indigenous cotton harvested by farmer Surendra Pal Singh (Photo - Sanskriti Talwar, 101Reporters)Scalability concerns“Not everyone can continue doing organic farming,” states Vinod’s daughter-in-law Pallavi Redu Jyani, who plans to sell processed organic products such as jaggery, mustard oil and rosewater through social media.“We are large landowners. We can manage if our organic farming struggles for a year, but what about marginal farmers? The government has mandis for other chemically grown crops. They should provide markets, test our products and set fair prices. Are we expected to shoulder the efforts alone? This is why many leave organic farming,” she elaborates.Dr Vijay acknowledges that unlike wheat and rice, there is no mandi for cotton. “Cotton is picked up by the textile industry. In some cases, consumers directly buy organically grown wheat and rice at a higher rate than the market price, but what will they do with organic cotton?”Not all farmers on the organic cotton journey are rich. Some are small and medium farmers, who majorly cultivate wheat, Bt cotton and paddy due to unavailability of a market for organic cotton.  “Free farm electricity and extensive tubewell irrigation have pushed us towards rice, even though it is not native to this region. This has increased water usage, with the groundwater table reaching 100 ft in my village,” explains Sukhmander.  "Since paddy straw management is the biggest issue today, growing organic cotton is the way forward. Moreover, unlike the Bt seeds that should be bought afresh every year, desi kapas and narma seeds can be saved for the next season. Working along with KVM, farmers are multiplying the desi seeds to make them available to other farmers," says Garg.Asked about the scalability of organic cotton cultivation, Garg retorts, “When you are growing paddy at such a large scale and ruining soil, why not cotton that has traditionally been grown in Malwa region? It is not within our capacity to procure and process cotton from thousands of farmers. We can only show a way forward.” The scale of the initiative is small, but its long-term impact would be much bigger. This story was produced as a part of NCNF Media Fellowship on Agroecology.Edited by Rekha PulinnoliCover Photo - Farmer Surendra Pal Singh of Dhingawali village in Fazilka district (Photo - Sanskriti Talwar, 101Reporters)

Why Dalit women farmers in Punjab are giving up on organic cultivation

With the auction rates changing drastically each year, the system of annual leasing of a portion of village common land to Dalits for cultivation offers no opportunity for long-term investment or land improvementsSangrur, Punjab: When a group of 10 landless women from Changali Wala village in Punjab’s Sangrur district began organic farming on one-and-a-half acres of village common land (shamlat land) reserved for Scheduled Caste (SC) community five years ago, they were motivated not only by the desire to grow chemical-free food but also by the hope of earning a better income.Pooling resources from within the family, these women, nine of whom belonged to Dalit community of Ramdasia Sikh, leased the reserved land for Rs 55,000, thus launching their organic farming journey. The 10th member belonged to the same village, but from the Jat Sikh community. Under Punjab’s Village Common Lands (Regulation) Act, 1961, one-third of the cultivable land in each village is designated for SC community. The local administration holds land auctions every April and May.Small tin-roof roadside shop set by the women's collective to sell the produce, lies abandoned now (Photo - Sanskriti Talwar, 101Reporters)The women grew paddy, flowers and vegetables, which they sold from a small tin-roof roadside shop. “People were happy to buy our vegetables at double the market price because they were organic,” recalled Manjeet Kaur (52). Their crops included cauliflower, carrots, bottle gourd, tomatoes, potatoes, mushrooms, leafy greens, and more. “Every day felt like a mela [fair] over there,” added Sinder Kaur (45).Manjeet Kaur preparing to cook (Photo - Sanskriti Talwar, 101Reporters)“We never realised how quickly the first year passed. Those 12 months felt like only 12 days,” added Jaspal Kaur (50), explaining how they would finish their daily household chores by 8 am to spend time till evening in the field.The women managed every task by themselves — from preparing soil beds with hay or mustard stalks to making organic pesticide by boiling black plum, lemon and guava leaves with fruit peels and chillies. They also used sour buttermilk and neem leaf spray to deter pests.Harbans Kaur, in her 40s, explained why they chose organic methods: “If a spray can kill a pest, just imagine the harm it could do to us when we consume it.” The women all noted how much better the vegetables tasted than those from the market.In their first year, they earned a profit of around Rs 60,000. However, by the second year, the COVID-19 lockdown (March 2020) reduced customer flow. Also, the lease amount on the common land went up to Rs 78,000, outpacing their earnings.To sustain farming, the women had to reinvest their profits and draw from family incomes, straining the already limited resources. This financial burden led four members to leave the collective.By the third year, as the lease climbed to Rs 84,000, two more women decided to step away. With the lease holding steady over Rs 80,000 the following year, the remaining women finally had to abandon their ambition.“The high lease rate left us vulnerable,” noted Sinder.“A lot of hard work goes into organic farming. Every crop needs constant care. Yet, by the end, we had almost no savings,” said Harbans. Harbans Kaur on her way to work in the fields (Photo - Sanskriti Talwar, 101Reporters)The women felt that they did not get enough support from the then village panchayat and sarpanch, who belong to the same community and could have stabilised lease rates.However, Harkeerat Singh, belonging to the dominant Jat Sikh community and elected as sarpanch in October, explained, “The lease rate is not within the village head’s control. It is determined by the auction process, where others bid higher to secure the land.”He acknowledged that lease rates are often inflated by dummy candidates representing dominant-caste landlords. This practice has long disadvantaged Dalits.This year, the reserved land for the Scheduled Castes in Changali Wala was leased at Rs 55,000 — the same rate it was leased to the group of women five years ago, according to the local village body.Mukesh Malaudh, president, Zameen Prapti Sangharsh Committee — an organisation advocating for land rights for Dalits — explained that under the Punjab Village Common Lands (Regulation) Act, 1961, panchayats and block district officials have the authority to lease the common land to Scheduled Caste people for up to three years, “with an allowable annual increase of 10% on the established rate in subsequent years”.According to the committee, massive protests by Dalit collectives in Sangrur district have led to reduced lease rates for village common land, averaging Rs 20,000–22,000 per acre compared to Rs 65,000–70,000 for unreserved land. Unlike in the past, SC community has begun cultivating their rightful land, challenging past practices of dummy candidates. However, leasing land often comes with social barriers, especially for the Dalit women. “Within the village, there would be a sense of unease that women are now coming forward and farming on their own,” said Malaudh. “It is not that the villagers have a problem with Dalit women working in the fields — it is that these women are not labouring in landowners’ fields for meagre wages,” he added.The women of Changali Wala did face the taunts. “Some village men passing by would comment, ‘Now women will show how to do farming?’” recalled Sinder. “But women used to work in the fields all the time, and work was also available. As machines took over, there was less work left for us,” she noted.Approximately 75% of rural women workers in India are engaged in agriculture, yet only 12% of them own the land they cultivate, according to the Agricultural Census 2015-16. In Punjab, the situation is even starker, with only 1.5% of women registered as landowners. Only 3.5% of private farmland belongs to Dalits who make up 32% of the state’s population.“In India, including in Punjab, very few women are officially recognised as farmers. Despite their significant contributions to agriculture, they are categorised as cultivators or non-cultivators and, without land ownership in their name, are excluded from being officially considered farmers,” Dr Navsharan Kaur, an independent scholar and activist based in Punjab, told 101Reporters.Karamjeet Kaur removing the husk from paddy (Photo - Sanskriti Talwar, 101Reporters)This lack of recognition denies them access to crucial government support, such as the Kisan Credit Card scheme, crop insurance, and other targeted subsidies, she added.A pressing concern is the urgent need to move away from the Green Revolution model and adopt sustainable farming practices (Evergreen Revolution) in Punjab. However, Navsharan noted that this transition requires strong government backing to ensure its success.For landless Dalits who want to cultivate land, Navsharan emphasised that the prevalent system of annual land leasing exacerbated vulnerabilities, offering no opportunity for long-term investment or land improvements, both of which are essential for sustainable agriculture.Punjab has a history of land rights movements, one of the most prominent being the Muzara Movement (1930–1953). Led by tenant farmers, it sought to abolish biswedari — a system under which landlords controlled vast tracts of land in the princely state of Patiala and the East Punjab States’ Union.However, Dalits were excluded from this movement, leaving their land rights struggles unaddressed within the broader push for land reform.It was not until the Punjab Village Common Lands Act was enacted in 1961, with rules established in 1964, that provisions were made to reserve portions of village common lands for SC community, offering them a foothold in agricultural land ownership. However, the provision has struggled to achieve its intended impact. Persistent social and systemic barriers, such as high lease rates, proxy bidding by dominant-caste landlords and a lack of enforcement, have limited the ability of Dalits to fully benefit from the reserved land. Thus, the struggle to assert land rights among Dalits persists, driven by their continued exclusion from equitable access to land.The women of Changali Wala are a part of a long tradition of Dalits who have been fighting for their land rights. Jaspal Kaur sipping tea while on break from household chores (Photo - Sanskriti Talwar, 101Reporters)In Balad Kalan village in Sangrur, the epicentre of an earlier Dalit land agitation, the fight for land was met with severe resistance, including brutal lathi charges in 2014 and 2016. “The committee members in the village, disheartened by the violence, considered giving up. They began to question whether they needed the land as much as they had thought,” Malaudh recalled.When the men decided against attending the land auction, the women of the village stepped up. “Despite police warnings and immense pressure, they said, ‘We will fight for the land.’ The women were fighting not only for the land but for the respect that comes with working on their own land,” he added, pointing how otherwise they were exploited, abused and harassed while working in the fields of Jat Sikh landowners. This sentiment of owning land resonated with the women of Changali Wala. “We felt it was our own land, truly belonging to us along with the crops,” said Harbans. The women kept it so well that, as Jaspal put it, “it stood out among the other fields.”This year, the Punjab government released a draft of its long-awaited agricultural policy, which included recommendations for women in agriculture and farm workers. However, Dr Navsharan criticised the policy, stating that it erased women’s active role in farming and instead reduced their contributions to occupations like stitching and embroidery — dead-end skills that offer little to improve livelihoods. “Do we need a policy for that,” she asked.Punjab Khet Mazdoor Union has been demanding leasing of the reserved land for at least three years across Punjab. Lachhman Singh Sewewala, the union general secretary, stated that the policy failed to tackle critical issues, such as curbing the practice of dominant-caste landlords acquiring reserved land by using Dalits as proxies.“Additionally, it completely overlooks the need to revisit Punjab’s Land Ceiling Reforms Act, 1972, which allows a family unit [husband, wife and children] to own up to 17.5 acres of fertile, irrigated land or 32 acres of barren, non-irrigated land. Reforming this Act to distribute land among the landless could have offered at least some relief and a pathway forward,” Lachhman added. Whether the women of Changali Wala will return to organic farming remains uncertain. Age has become a factor as well. “Now our bodies ache, especially the knees,” said Manjeet.As they look to the future, these women hope that policy changes might provide another opportunity to farm collectively. Meanwhile, Jaspal and her family dream of owning their own land someday, hoping that, once her three children are employed and her husband retires as a tailor, they might afford to make this dream a reality.This story was produced as a part of NCNF Media Fellowship on Agroecology.Edited by Rekha PulinnoliCover Photo - Shinder Kaur sorting through rice grains (Photo - Sanskriti Talwar, 101Reporters)