Silent Massacre of Indian Farms: Real Causes of Farmer Suiciding in India

The Last Harvest of Ramu Lal

Amidst the dusk and growing commotion, a woman panted heavily, tears streaming down her cheeks. She pierced through the crowd gathered around the neem tree that stood tall in her fields. Dressed in a ragged saree, torn in places, she had two children clinging tightly to each of her hands. She let out a scream, seemed to shake the heavens, and collapsed.

Ramu Lal was only 38 when he hanged himself. He was a farmer in Vidarbha, living with his wife, elder son, and daughter. The previous night, when everyone was asleep, he nervously checked the last ounce of rice left in the jar and mixed it with salt water to make it stretch for his children. There was no oil, no lentils, no milk, and no money.

Earlier that week, he had gone to Mandi with his little boy to sell his last sack of cotton, the only crop that had survived the erratic dance of the monsoons. The trader glanced at his frail frame, his ragged clothes reeking of sweat and despair, partly torn, partly patched. Without uttering a word, he confirmed the misery of Ramu by giving a disdainful look. He took the sack and started weighing it. Scoffed at the poor quality of cotton and handed Ramu a sum of Rs. 1,370. Yes, the price for three months of back-breaking labor under the vengeful sun, days without food, nights without sleep, Rs. 1370.

As the father and son walked back, Ramu pretended to rub his eyes from irritation due to dust, just to hide his tears. That night, Ramu couldn’t eat. Early morning, he walked alone into the fields, wearing the same old dhoti he had been wearing for the last four years.

Even today, the voice of his wife trembles and her body shivers as she describes the day. She mentioned the pile of unpaid loans from a bank and local sahukars. They had begun to threaten and humiliate the family. His wife Sunita, since that day, hasn’t been able to garner enough courage to return to the fields. She says, “Those fields took my husband. What if they take my son next?”

The Fields That Swallow Dreams

Sunita wakes up at dawn each day, not to till the fields, but to sit beside the portrait of her late husband, while her bleary eyes spoke of unanswered prayers. The elder son, Jayesh, at 14, took up the responsibility of his mother and sister, performing odd jobs in the village instead of going to school. His sister is now struggling with a bout of malnutrition. The government compensation of Rs. 1 Lakh never came, the price set by the government for the life of a father, a provider, and for a family left behind, crushed under the weight of helplessness.

Ramu’s story is nothing uncommon. It is the reality of Indian farmers.

According to the National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB), over 11000 farmers and agricultural laborers died of suicide in 2021 alone. That is nearly 30 lives lost every single day, people who fed this nation, died in a whisper. Maharashtra, the state where Ramu lived, continues to top the list year after year. As if the soil here claims more than seeds and sweat.

Truth to be told, these are not just suicides; these are the silent massacre happening in the fields.

A Nation Fed by the Forgotten

India is still primarily an agrarian society. As per the Economic Survey 2021-22, around 45.7% of the Indian population is dependent on agriculture for their livelihood. Which means nearly half of the nation. Yet, GDP contribution to agriculture only stands at approximately 18%. This discrepancy highlights the economic neglect of the backbone of this country. This gap consists of farmers like Ramu, supposedly ‘our food providers’ or ‘Annadatas’, dying of hunger themselves.

Now the paradox: While urban consumers are obsessing over a 5 Rupees discount on tomatoes or saying coriander doesn’t taste well unless it's free, the farmer who grew those vegetables is crushed under the loans and starvation. In 2023, NITI Aayog, in its report, revealed that more than 50% of Indian agricultural households are in debt.

The Tyranny of the Middlemen and the Market

Ramu went to Mandi and sold 60 Kilograms of raw cotton for a price of Rs. 1370. That is about Rs. 22 per Kilogram. Now, trace the same cotton through the supply chain and see the real picture of swindling. A basic cotton T-shirt in an average retail store is sold for Rs. 500 or more. Cotton used in preparing a t-shirt is hardly 500 to 600 grams. Which makes the income of a farmer per T-shirt from Rs. 11 to 13, much less than 5% of the retail price.

Middlemen dominate the supply chain. They dictate prices, exploit quality claims, delay payments, and deduct arbitrary amounts for weighing, transport, or storage.

Farmers generally don’t have a warehouse or cold storage. Most of the small and marginal farmers (who make up 86% of total Indian farmers) are bound to sell immediately after harvest, regardless of market price, to repay debts and buy food. That’s exactly where the exploitation begins.

Traders buy low during a harvest glut and sell high later. They arbitrarily downgrade the quality, saying “It has moisture”, “there’s dirt,” and whatnot. By making such claims, they manage to reduce the purchase prices by 10-20%. Farmers have no mechanism to challenge this and assess their claim via a third party.

On top of this, there frauds being committed by tampering with the weights, delaying the payments, and more ways to harass the one already oppressed. A clear instance of a protector turned predator is the Agricultural Produce Market Committee (APMC) mandis, designed to protect farmers, which often end up being monopolized arenas where collusion runs rampant and small-scale farmers stand no chance.

While all of this in picture, there comes climate change. One year brings drought, the next is flood. In 2022, unseasonal rains wiped out entire harvests in northern India. Crop insurance, where it exists, often fails in implementation. As per a CAG report in 2023, only 12.8% of eligible farmers received insurance payouts for crop damage.

When Hunger Lives Where Food is Grown

According to the National Family Health Survey (NFHS-5), significantly high under-nutrition is found in rural farming communities. Children of farmers are 40% more likely to be underweight than urban children. With every farmer suicide, the burden never disappears; in fact, it multiplies. The wife becomes an unpaid laborer, and the kids become the breadwinners. The land once ploughed with devotion becomes a noose.

Many families abandon farming altogether. Kids and rural youth, witnessing the plight of their parents, decide to migrate to cities for low-paying jobs rather than taking over the fields that broke their families. If this continues, who will grow our food in the next generation?

There is No Food Without Farmers

With all the education we receive, people either fail to understand or completely neglect the fact that India’s food security solely depends on the resilience of its farmers. Without them, our granaries would be empty, our thalis bare. And yet, their survival is left to chance, rain, and corrupt systems.

We will also find certain people who preach that we should turn to a non-vegetarian dietary preference and stop depending on farm produce. The suggestion is not just ill-informed but also dangerously short-sighted. Firstly, where do they think livestock get their nutrition from? Grass, grains, pulses, and crop residues, all the very produce grown by farmers. It takes multiple kilos of plant-based feed to produce just one kilo of meat. So if more people turn to eat meat, demand for plant crops will only increase. Secondly, large-scale meat product is not a solution but a crisis on their own. It is one of the leading contributors to deforestation, water depletion, and greenhouse gas emissions. It’s like setting your own house on fire to stay warm. Third, clearly, this argument comes from a place of privilege and lacks an educational perspective. It overlooks the millions of Indians who are vegetarian by culture, religion, or poverty, not by choice. Suggesting meat as an alternate ignores affordability, dietary preferences, and regional accessibility.

Vegetable grains don’t fail our farmers as much as broken systems, policies, and price exploitation do. So far, the government has launched multiple schemes to protect the farmers, namely, PM-KISAN, MSP reforms, soil health cards, etc. But there is a huge gap between policy and practice within which the atrocities against farmers take place.

In most cases, farmers are not even educated enough to understand or be aware of what they are entitled to. In 2020-21, the country witnessed one of the biggest farmer protests in the world. Farmers camped at the Delhi borders for over a year. What they asked was simple- protection, respect, and survival.

What is too much to ask?

Do we even remember?

Do we care beyond the headlines?