‘Our kitchens are never empty’: Sun-dried vegetables save the dry days in Banswara

The generations-old practice of sun-drying and storing vegetables ensures the food security of the Bhil community in the region, but climatic changes are hampering this lifeline

Aishwarya Mohanty

From right to left: Kamala Kanhaiyalal, Badhu Narji, Kanku Laxman, and Ramila Ninama sit with their collection of sun-dried vegetables and seeds. This time-tested preservation practice, led by women, help ensure year-round food availability and resilience in the face of climate and economic uncertainties.

Aishwarya Mohanty/The Migration Story

BANSWARA, Rajasthan: Earthen pots shut with clay lids line the corners of Kanku Laxman’s kitchen in her mud-walled home that sits on an empty field of Gadara village in southern Rajasthan. Laxman, a 33-year-old Bhil adivasi farmer, lives here with her family. Dry, cracked farmland awaiting the monsoon flanks her home in mid-May; sparse shrubs and thorny bushes dotting the pale brown earth complete the landscape. 

Over the years, the number of pots in her kitchen storing dried vegetables have shrunk, and the diminishing supply of vegetables has meant the pots are replaced by plastic bags. Laxman is using only a single pot this summer and it holds a carefully preserved mix of okra and two varieties of green beans sun-dried after harvest. She dips into the preserve every other day to make her meals.

The tradition of sun-drying vegetables is an age-old one in the Banswara region. Local women have followed the practice for generations as a way to reduce food waste as well as to see them through seasons of distress such as the grueling summers. As climate change disrupts the rain cycle and impacts the growing seasons, the tradition of sun-drying vegetables has turned into a lifeline especially for women like Laxman who are left behind at home when the men migrate for work. 

The traditional practice offers a potential solution to combat climate vulnerabilities and food insecurity in the rural regions, though it is also threatened by the same challenges. 

“There is nothing left in the fields after March,” said Laxman. “But our kitchens are never empty as the vegetables we dried in winter keep us going,” she added. During the monsoon and winter months, when the produce is plentiful, the women of the region slice the fresh and locally grown vegetables such as okra, cluster beans, spinach, fenugreek, brinjal and wild greens, and lay them out in the courtyards and rooftops to dry them under the sun. It takes two-to-three days on an average to attain the optimum dryness necessary for storage. Once dried, the vegetables are stored in traditional pots and closed with lids to protect them from moisture and pests. 

An assortment of sun-dried vegetables, seeds, and herbs carefully preserved by Bhil women in Banswara. Aishwarya Mohanty/The Migration Story

The dried vegetables are taken out in the months of scarcity and cooked with minimal spices and oil. They are boiled in order to soften them, cooked with salt, turmeric, and chilli powder and served with wheat, bajra or jowar roti. Vegetables such as okra, which gets slimy when water is added to it, is boiled in buttermilk instead. 

The local practice followed for generations has facilitated food security for the families of Banswara and has grown to be particularly critical now as erratic weather disrupts agricultural cycles.

“When we talk of self-sustenance, this is a very crucial practice. Any practice that reduces market dependency and is sustainable will make communities more resilient,” said Jayesh Joshi, secretary, Vaagdhara, a grassroots organisation working with the Bhil community in Banswara. The families, especially women in the region, he observed, were hardly dependent on the markets. “Even if the weather is erratic, they know that they already have the food required to manage their nutritional intake,” he added. 

Laxman’s family owns five bighas of land where they cultivate maize, wheat and pulses. In less than a bigha close to their home, they grow vegetables. “We grow the vegetables in winter; we do not depend on the market for anything,” she said. The families in the village also practice a bartering system where they exchange dried greens, beans, or wild produce with each other, thereby keeping the food local and accessible during winters. But with the arrival of summer, the water table in the region falls adversely affecting vegetable cultivation. 

“The groundwater availability in the village is at 400 feet. We do not have an irrigation system which makes the summers dry and extremely difficult months to cultivate,” said Laxman. 

Women in charge 

Kamla Kanhaiyalal with a pot of green beans at her home in Gadara village of Banswara.

Aishwarya Mohanty/The Migration Story

Banswara district borders Gujarat and Madhya Pradesh and lies in the sub-tropical region. Its hilly terrain and semi-arid topography make it milder than the desert regions further north in Rajasthan. But agriculture is predominantly rain-fed and summers are usually dry with scant water availability which makes food production harder. The district, with the lowest population in the State, is home to the Bhils, one of India’s largest and oldest Adivasi communities. 

Distress migration is a lived reality in the hilly district and is driven by shrinking incomes from farming and the lack of local employment. Men often travel to the nearby States of Madhya Pradesh and Gujarat to work in the construction sector. Meanwhile, women, children, and the elderly stay behind to manage homes with fewer resources.

Like many others in the village, Laxman’s husband migrates seasonally, mostly to Gujarat to work in the construction sector. She is left to manage the home, raise their two children, and care for her ageing in-laws. In certain households, men and women migrate together. 

“There are no jobs here. We cannot sustain on seasonal agriculture. My husband migrates to different cities of Gujarat to work at construction sites or factories; wherever there is work. He earns between Rs 10,000-15,000 a month which he sends home,” she said. 

When men migrate for work, women take the lead in ensuring food security at home through age-old practices such as the sun drying of vegetables. With limited access to the nearest market which is seven kms away and rising food prices being a factor, sun-dried vegetables reduce the dependence of those like Laxman on outside sources and help them maintain food security throughout the year.

“When the market is far and money tight, the sun becomes my helper. Drying vegetables is how I store not just food, but keep my peace of mind. I know that my children will not sleep hungry even when their father is away,” observed Laxman. 

Studies suggest that dehydrated vegetables have high nutritional value. “There are certain green leafy vegetables which grow only in winters or monsoons. But they are of high nutritional value and are available in abundance in these seasons. Drying them ensures that we can consume them later. We are also putting the surplus into use rather than wasting it,” said Ramila Ninama (27), a Bhil adivasi woman from the same village. 

“This process of drying vegetables does help retain nutritional value. Only water-soluble vitamins like C could be lost to an extent, but more or less all other major nutrition components are retained,” Joshi said. 

A full pot no longer

A parched summer landscape in Banswara, Rajasthan, which predominantly relies on rain fed agriculture. Aishwarya Mohanty/The Migration Story

Though the practice ensures food security, challenges persist. As land holdings and water availability shrink, so do vegetable cultivation and harvest, both of which impact surplus and food preservation for the future. Erratic weather and pest attacks further exacerbate the challenges. 

“We used to store dried vegetables for over two years,” said Badhu Narji, 35, from Kushalgarh block in Banswara district. “Now they barely last a year. Sometimes pests destroy the preserve or vegetables get spoiled owing to unseasonal rains or humidity. But we dry them again. We find a way.”

The women of the region have noticed with alarm the gradual but definite shrinking of the shelf life of sun-dried vegetables over the past decade. Earlier vegetables sun-dried and stored in earthen pots would stay fresh for multiple seasons, they said. However, the combination of erratic weather, sudden downpour, high humidity, scorching heat, and increasing pest infestation is making storage harder.

“Earlier we sun-dried vegetables for two to three days and they would be ready. But unseasonal rains now disrupt the drying cycle,” said Ninama. “We have to keep moving the vegetables inside and outside the house, and worry about rain and moisture in the air,” she added.

Narji pulls out a half-filled pot of dried okra and green beans. “This is all I have left. By July- August, we will run out. A fresh batch has to be put out for drying then,” she shared. Her family survives on sun-dried vegetables in the summer. “We barely make Rs 10,000 - 15,000 a month which is not enough to sustain a family of four. The price of vegetables sky rockets in summer and we can hardly afford it. In that scenario, dry vegetables become all the more important for us,” Narji added. Her family rely on the market only for tea, sugar, oil, and jeera. “Everything else comes from our fields or is exchanged within the village,” she observed.  

A ripe brinjal put up for sun-drying in a household for its seeds and preservation.

Aishwarya Mohanty/The Migration Story

A simple meal from a Bhil household in Banswara, a wheat rotlo paired with a dry vegetable curry made from

sun-dried greens. Aishwarya Mohanty/The Migration Story

For the women of Banswara, the core challenge in practising the tradition is the declining quantity of vegetables they can grow and consequently dry. “Our landholdings have grown smaller and our wells are not as full as they were before,” said 25-year-old Kamla Kanhaiyalal, another woman from Kushalgarh. Her family owns a one acre farm. 

The process of sun-drying vegetables has women at its core. From growing and harvesting the vegetables to drying, storing, and cooking it in summer, women manage it all. “We do not use chemicals on the vegetables we grow; they can be dried naturally and stored to last longer,” said Kanhaiyalal. 

Market alternatives, she noted, are neither reliable nor acceptable. “There are a few vegetables we do not cultivate, but buying them from the market is not an option. For instance, tomatoes and cauliflower are common now, but were never part of our traditional diet. Vegetables in the market have no smell or taste. We have always eaten what we grow. That is how it should be,” she said.

As they helm a tradition which is key to their food security, the women observed that the changing climatic scenario is compounding their challenges. “We do it all. But we can’t fight the weather,” said Kanhaiyalal, her smile weary.

Edited by P Anima

Aishwarya Mohanty is a freelance journalist and reports on gender, climate change and environment.