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Every September, when the valley begins to wear autumn’s golden cloak, Kashmir’s walnut trees announce their season. Their husks turn brown, their shells begin to crack, and their fruit—doon, as it is known locally—becomes ready for harvest. From Anantnag to Kupwara, villages come alive with the rhythm of gathering, peeling, and drying walnuts.
For Kashmiris, walnuts are more than a seasonal crop. They are heritage, livelihood, and survival. But behind the beauty of the harvest lies a story of extraordinary effort, dangerous work, and uncertain reward.
The Harvest Begins
The walnut harvest starts as the air cools in September and stretches into early October. Across the valley, men, women, and children head to the orchards at dawn. Towering walnut trees—some more than a century old—stand ready to release their bounty.
The method of harvesting has hardly changed in generations. Skilled climbers, often barefoot, ascend to dizzying heights of 40 or 50 feet. With long willow sticks in hand, they strike the branches until walnuts tumble down. The sound echoes like drumbeats across the orchards. Below, families spread sheets or baskets, racing to collect the fallen nuts.
It is a communal effort. Children pick the smaller nuts from the grass, women pile them into heaps, and elders supervise with stories of past harvests. The work is physically demanding, yet filled with a sense of tradition that ties families to their land.
The Risks in the Trees
For those who climb, the harvest is not only hard—it is perilous. Every year, accidents occur when a foot slips or a branch breaks. The fall from such heights can be devastating, leading to serious injury or even death. In villages across Shopian, Pulwama, and Baramulla, such tragedies are part of the walnut season’s darker side.
Harvesters know the risks but have little choice. Without machinery or safety gear, climbing remains the only way to gather the fruit. To them, each climb is not just a task but a gamble—one they must take to feed their families.
From Husk to Kernel
Once gathered, the walnuts begin another journey. The thick green husk must be peeled away, a job that stains hands dark brown and leaves nails brittle. Families sit together in courtyards, peeling baskets full of nuts while songs and chatter lighten the labor.
After peeling, the nuts are spread under the open Himalayan sky to dry. This natural drying process is vital: too little sun, and the walnuts risk rotting; too much moisture, and fungal infections can ruin the yield. Farmers watch the skies anxiously, praying for steady weather during these crucial days.
When dried, the walnuts are stored in jute bags or earthen rooms, ready for sale. Yet for most growers, the hardest part is not the harvest itself, but what comes after.
The Market Struggle
Despite producing over 90% of India’s walnuts, Kashmiri farmers rarely get their due share of profit. Most sell to middlemen, who transport the nuts to larger markets in Delhi and beyond. By the time the walnuts reach consumers, the price has multiplied, but little of that increase returns to the grower.
In recent years, another challenge has loomed larger—cheap imports, especially from China and California. Flooding Indian markets at lower prices, they undercut Kashmiri walnuts despite lacking their distinct flavor and oil-rich quality. For farmers in the valley, this competition is disheartening.
“There is no comparison in taste,” says a grower from Pulwama, “but the customer often looks at price, not quality. That is our struggle.”
Walnuts in Kashmiri Culture
Beyond economics, walnuts remain deeply rooted in Kashmiri culture. They are exchanged as gifts during weddings and festivals, placed as blessings in rituals, and enjoyed daily in kitchens.
On Shivratri, Kashmiri Pandits soak walnuts in water and offer them in devotion before sharing them with family. During winters, families snack on walnuts with dried figs or raisins, believing them to give warmth and strength against the cold. To crack open a walnut at home is to share more than food—it is to share a piece of Kashmir’s tradition.
A Farmer’s Voice
In Shopian, Abdul Majid, a third-generation walnut grower, explains the paradox. “We risk our lives climbing trees, we work for weeks drying and cleaning, but when we sell, the rates are so low we barely cover our expenses. Still, we cannot abandon walnuts. They are part of who we are.”
His words reflect a sentiment shared across the valley: pride in producing one of the world’s finest walnuts, but frustration at the lack of recognition and support.
Why Kashmiri Walnuts Remain Unmatched
Despite the challenges, Kashmiri walnuts continue to hold a reputation few others can match. They are naturally organic, grown without chemical fertilizers. Their high oil content makes them richer in flavor, their crunch unmistakable.
Nutritionists often call walnuts “brain food,” and Kashmiri walnuts, with their Omega-3 richness, are among the healthiest. To many buyers abroad, the phrase “Himalayan Walnuts” is synonymous with quality and purity.
The Way Forward
For Kashmir’s walnut industry to survive and thrive, certain steps are crucial:
These changes require both government support and private participation. Without them, a heritage crop risks being overshadowed.
Hamiast’s Role
At Hamiast, we believe every walnut carries a story—of a farmer climbing a tall tree at dawn, of families peeling husks late into the night, of a valley that has nurtured this crop for centuries. By sourcing directly from growers, we ensure that farmers receive fairer value for their hard work, and customers receive walnuts that are truly authentic.
When you choose to buy Kashmiri walnuts online from Hamiast, you are not only enjoying premium, organic produce—you are supporting the livelihoods of families who keep this tradition alive against all odds.
Conclusion: A Season to Remember
The walnut harvest in Kashmir is more than agriculture. It is a story of courage, community, and continuity. Each autumn, the valley comes together in a ritual that is as dangerous as it is beautiful.
Behind every nut cracked open lies the sound of sticks striking branches, the laughter of children gathering fallen fruit, the stain of husks on farmers’ hands, and the resilience of people who refuse to let a tradition die.
Kashmiri walnuts are not simply a product—they are a heritage. And every harvest season, that heritage is renewed.
