Shifting kharif crops into summer: A betrayal of water sustainability

Shifting kharif crops to summer may seem like smart farming, but it’s draining our groundwater in the hottest months. This short-term benefit comes at the cost of longer-term water security. In this article, the authors urge a return to climate-aligned farming practices before we run our wells dry.

Indian agriculture relies heavily on the monsoon, with the kharif season playing a vital role in national food security. Traditionally, kharif crops such as paddy, maize, cotton, soybean, millets, and various vegetables (including cucurbits, brinjal, lady’s finger, French beans, and others) are sown at the onset of the southwest monsoon. However, in recent decades, a notable trend has emerged, particularly in northwestern states like Punjab, Haryana, Himachal Pradesh and Uttarakhand, where the sowing and cultivation of these crops have begun much earlier— during early or mid-summer — making crop production entirely dependent on groundwater. This shift is not merely a change in agricultural practice; it poses a serious threat to the sustainability of our water resources and indicates a clear departure from ecologically sound practices.

A disconnected practice

Farmers are not to blame. They are responding to economic signals — such as assured procurement, labour availability, market demands, and attempts to escape post-harvest penalties. In Punjab, Haryana, and even hilly regions like Himachal Pradesh and Uttarakhand, the premature cultivation of water demanding crops is increasingly seen as a profitable choice. But from an ecological perspective, it is an irrational one.

Why irrational? Because this early cultivation relies entirely on groundwater to sustain crops through the driest and hottest months of the year. At a time when temperatures peak and evaporation rates soar, we are withdrawing tens of thousands of liters of groundwater per hectare to grow crops meant for the rainy season.

Water crisis in the making

India is already among the most water-stressed nations globally. According to the World Resources Institute, we use nearly 80% of our available water annually, with agriculture being the primary consumer. Reports from the Central Ground Water Board (CGWB) show that most revenue districts across northwestern India are experiencing groundwater depletion at rates of one to three meters per year. When we grow water demanding crops like kharif vegetables, paddy or spring maize in summer months, the entire crop life cycle becomes groundwater-dependent, placing an unbearable strain on already fragile aquifers.

As someone who has worked closely with horticultural production systems for decades, I can say — it’s a systemic misalignment between our cropping patterns and natural ecological cycles,not merely a water issue. We are promoting farming against the climate.

Climate change adds fuel to the fire

Climate variability has further complicated the monsoon’s reliability. A recent study by the Council on Energy, Environment and Water (CEEW) reported that 11 percent of tehsils in India have experienced decrease in southwest monsoon rainfall, 68 percent experienced reduced rainfall, while 87 percent showed a decline during kharif sowing months between 1982 and 2022. Meanwhile, October rainfall has increased, delaying the Rabi sowing window. In this context, the early cultivation of kharif crops isn’t just unwise — it’s potentially catastrophic. 

The pre-monsoon months now coincide with heat waves, prolonged dry spells, and erratic weather. Under such conditions, advancing sowing only amplifies evapotranspiration, increases pest burdens, and reduces yields. We are spending more inputs, extracting more water, and gaining less in return.

The fallacy of ​“productivity at any cost”

Behind this trend lies a deeper issue: The failure to align cropping systems with agro-climatic realities. The spring cultivation of maize — requiring as many as 18 to 20 irrigation cycles — is a prime example of a flawed practice masquerading as progress. It is ecologically unsuited to regions like Punjab or western Uttar Pradesh, yet it continues, driven by subsidies on electricity and water that make unsustainable practices appear economically viable.

This model of ​“productivity at any cost” is no longer tenable. It disregards the ecological costs — soil degradation, aquifer exhaustion, biodiversity loss — that will ultimately undermine the very productivity it seeks to maximise.

What must be done: A call to action

Reversing this trend requires a coordinated, science-driven, and policy-supported strategy. We must act decisively:

1. Enforce agro-ecological crop calendars: States must uphold laws restricting pre-monsoon sowing and incentivise adherence to rainfall-based calendars.

2. Promote low-water crops: Deep rooted fruit crops, millets, pulses, and less water-demanding vegetables must be supported with procurement incentives and market development.

3. Invest in water-saving technologies: Technologies like precision irrigation, mulching, and alternate wetting-drying need additional policy push, farmer training, and economic support.

4. Align subsidies with sustainability: Agricultural subsidies must be redesigned to promote ecological balance rather than prioritise short-term yields.

5. Educate and empower farmers: Awareness campaigns and local field demonstrations can catalyse a shift in farmer behaviour, especially when backed by viable economic alternatives.

A moral and ecological imperative

The choice before us is stark. Either we continue to encourage a farming system that depletes life-sustaining groundwater, or we reimagine our agricultural paradigm to honour ecological wisdom. The summer sowing of kharif crops may seem like a technical detail to some, but to those of us attuned to the long-term implications, it is a betrayal of our intergenerational justice.

Water is not just an input — it is a legacy. Protecting it demands not just policy reform, but a transformation in how we think about agriculture. As scientists, educators, and citizens, we must raise our voices — before the silence of our aquifers becomes irreversible.