
Suhail Dar
Under the September sky in Sallar, a village tucked in the folds of Anantnag’s mountains, the sound of sticks striking branches echoes through the walnut groves. This is the pulse of autumn in Kashmir, walnut season, when families gather in orchards and on hillsides to bring down the prized fruit that has made the Valley famous across the world.
“Kashmiri walnut has no match,” says Younis Ahmad, a farmer from Sallar, brushing dust from his hands after a long morning’s work. “It is the finest in taste and oil content, and the world knows it.”
Kashmir produces more than 95 percent of India’s walnuts, and its varieties, Wonth, Kaghazi, and Barzul, are known for their unique flavor, texture, and organic purity. From the terraced orchards of Anantnag to the forests of Kupwara, these walnuts are not just a crop but a heritage. They appear on wedding feasts, in winter kitchens, and are packed in baskets carried by traders down the mountain roads.
Yet, despite this legacy, walnut growers feel left behind. Unlike apples, which have dedicated mandis and strong support networks, walnuts have no organized marketplace in Kashmir. Farmers must take their produce all the way to Jammu to find buyers, often spending more on transport and labour than they earn in return. “A fruit as special as this should have its own mandis, processing plants, and markets in the Valley,” says Bashir Khan, a grower from Anantnag.
The challenges don’t end there. Farmers still rely on age-old methods of harvesting, barefoot climbers with long willow sticks, knocking walnuts from heights of 30–40 metres. It is dangerous work, but also a sight of rare beauty as men and women thrash, gather, and de-husk the nuts together, turning the harvest into a community celebration. Once washed and dried under the autumn sun, walnuts are cracked open by hand, the golden kernels filling wicker baskets.
But in the market, this labour of love meets a harsh reality. Cheaper imports from California, Chile, and China have flooded Indian markets, often selling at half the price. Kashmiri walnuts, though superior in oil and taste, lose out due to poor packaging, lack of modern grading, and absence of branding. Farmers point out that while the world is turning to organic products, Kashmiri walnuts, grown naturally without chemical fertilizers, have yet to be marketed as such.
Despite these hurdles, the pride in the crop remains unshaken. “We are the custodians of a treasure,” says Jan Mohammad, a farmer from Budgam. “Every walnut kernel carries the soil, the streams, and the autumn air of Kashmir. If we get the right support; mandis, processing, and branding, the world will once again recognise our walnuts for what they truly are: the finest.”
For now, as the harvest continues in Sallar and beyond, Kashmir’s walnut season remains a story of both celebration and longing, of a fruit that is loved everywhere, but needs its rightful place at home.




