MALIHABAD, India — No fruit in India is more loved and eagerly anticipated than the mango, which cools and sweetens the long summer days for a short period of the year.
Mangoes are added to kebabs, used to sour dishes and mashed with mint to make refreshing drinks. Connoisseurs fervently debate which of the dozens of Indian varieties — each with its own flavor, color and texture — is best, and politely disagree on the proper way to eat the fruit: by slicing it or by soaking it in juice. directly from the fruit. top.
But this year, this age-old ritual is in jeopardy. While the blistering heat has hit northern India weeks earlier than usual, mango crops have been devastated, threatening a way of life for the thousands of smallholders who grow the fruit and the millions of others who consume it.
The heat wave is a vivid example of the challenge India faces in ensuring its food security as the effects of climate change worsen, making it even more difficult to increase agricultural productivity by international standards to support a growing population of nearly 1.4 to feed billion people.
The dangers of a warmer future are painfully visible on a small farm in Malihabad, a premier northern mango-growing district, where Mohammed Aslam manages about 500 trees.
A few months ago, his mango trees were the epitome of health, their deep green leaves glistening above the well-hydrated soil and their branches bearing perfect clusters of white flowers. Then India experienced the warmest March in 122 years of record, with temperatures averaging nearly 92 degrees Fahrenheit and rising to 104. The mango flowers wilted and died before bearing fruit.
Virtually none of Mr. Aslam’s trees, spread over four hectares, produced mangoes. In a normal year, they would have yielded more than 25,000 pounds of fruit.
“I have never seen this phenomenon before in my life,” he said as he looked over his farm in the state of Uttar Pradesh one recent afternoon, lamenting the thousands of dollars he would lose from the crop failure.
Mr Aslam is one of hundreds of farmers who have watched helplessly as March’s intense heat continued into the hottest April in 50 years and then continued into May. Climate scientists said in a report released Monday that the likelihood of such a heat wave in India has increased by at least 30 times since the 19th century.
The heat has far exceeded the optimum temperature for fertilizing mango trees, which is about 77 degrees Fahrenheit, said Dheeraj Kumar Tiwari, a scientist at an agricultural university in Uttar Pradesh.
India is the world’s largest mango producer, accounting for nearly 50 percent of the global harvest. Much of it is consumed domestically, but the country exports tens of millions of dollars’ worth of mangoes each year to the United Arab Emirates, Great Britain, Germany and the United States. Over the past decade, India has attempted to penetrate markets in other European Union countries as well.
In the past, export growth has been limited by the higher cost of Indian mangoes compared to countries such as Brazil, Peru, Israel and Pakistan. India aims to increase productivity which would lower costs.
Even before the extreme heat, India’s mango exports had been badly damaged by the supply chain disruptions of the pandemic, with shipments abroad dwindling by nearly 50 percent last year. India’s main export organization had hoped for a major turnaround this year as the Indian and US governments eased trade rules.
Instead, severe weather has affected crops not only in northern India, but also in the south, which has been hit by heavy, premature rain.
In Uttar Pradesh, the northern powerhouse of mango cultivation, a government agricultural official estimated that mango production in the state would fall by nearly 20 percent this year. The Mango Growers Association said yields in the northern mango growing belt would fall by nearly 70 percent.
In the southern state of Andhra Pradesh, heavy rains delayed the flowering of mango plants by a month. By the time the fruits emerged, it was too hot and many fell from the branches prematurely.
B. Sreenivasulu, deputy director of the horticultural department of Chittoor district in Andhra Pradesh, said that during the heavy rainfall that ravaged the area in November and December, when the flowering took place, farms were flooded and many trees were flooded. were uprooted along the river.
The production of mangoes in the district, the most productive in the state, has been reduced by as much as 30 percent this season. “This time the effect of climate change was so visible,” said Mr. Sreenivasulu. “Like never before.”
The harsher conditions threaten mango-growing cultures with roots dating back hundreds of years.
The Malihabad district in Uttar Pradesh is known for mouthwatering varieties such as the Dasheri, which is named after a village in the area. The district is home to numerous families who have been growing the fruit for at least three generations. Most farmers in Malihabad own small plots of land and depend solely on mangoes for their livelihood.
Jyotsna Kaur Habibullah, who runs a farmers’ market, started a mango festival in Malihabad in 2013 to revive the tradition of eating mangoes straight from the orchard so that consumers can interact directly with the farmers.
“Food is inextricably linked to a people’s culture, and mangoes play an important role not only in the food of the region, but also in art and textiles, in the form of motifs and poetry,” said Ms. Habibullah. “The emotional and psychological connection of mangoes is not only the taste, but also the link to the culture of the place and a legacy that we cannot let die.”
One recent afternoon, against the backdrop of the serene beauty of mango orchards lining both sides of a slick highway in Malihabad, farmers gathered at a roadside stall expressed concern about the future. They discussed diversifying into other fruits and vegetables, or selling their land.
Nadeem Ahmad, a third-generation mango farmer, took a deep breath as he walked into his small farm along the highway. He pointed to trees that would normally be full of fruit at this time of year.
“It is with a heavy heart that I will have to start cutting down these trees if this pattern continues,” he said. “A peasant’s soul shudders at the sight of these fruitless trees.”
Opposite the farm of Mr. Ahmad said Mr. Aslam said he was living in “acute tension” over a mango crop yield that was only 5 percent from previous years. His 14-year-old son said he didn’t want to continue the family business when he grew up.
“There won’t be enough fruit even for my children,” Mr. Aslam said, his square forehead wrinkled under the bright midday sun. He noted that the hardships had forced him to postpone his daughter’s wedding.
“No mango, no life,” he added, his words fading in a low voice.
Karan Deep Singh contributed from New Delhi.