Maharashtra farmers crushed between floods and debt

When eleven-year-old Shweta saw her father’s body hanging from a rope tied to a tree branch on their farmland in Solapur’s Kari village, she could not understand why his neck was stuck in the rope. She thought he was unconscious and would soon open his eyes. He never did.

Her mother, who was working nearby in the field, came running and, along with her brother-in-law, brought down the body. But Sharad Gambhir, Shweta’s father, was gone forever.

Sharad owned six acres of land—three irrigated and three rain-fed. He had taken loans from various banks to cultivate guava and lemon orchards along with sugarcane. But last year, the sugarcane dried up due to lack of water. This year, torrential rains ruined everything: the lemon and guava orchards collapsed under excessive rains, fruits rotted on trees, and the newly planted sugarcane was left completely under water.

With a loan burden of over ₹15 lakh, Sharad had pinned his hopes on a good season this year. Instead, the rains shattered his dreams.

“He used to cry like a child, hugging me and my mother, but never told us why,” Shweta recalls. “He only said there was a huge loan.” She remembers the constant phone calls he received from early mornings, which left him visibly tense. Recently, on her birthday, he had no money to buy her even a new dress.

Now Shweta’s mother is clueless about how to move forward, while Shweta continues to ask why her loving father left them all alone.

Rains brought tears

In the past week, Maharashtra has witnessed massive rains inundating fields, washing away crops, cattle, houses and hopes. According to early government estimates, nearly half of the state’s kharif crop has been damaged this year, after weeks of torrential rainfall left large parts of farmland submerged.

September and October—usually months of harvest and festival celebrations—have instead brought widespread despair. Crops across 70 lakh acres in 30 districts have been destroyed, raising fears of mounting debt and a possible surge in farmer suicides.

Soybean plants have rotted in vast stretches, and cotton bolls that should have been ready for harvest now lie decayed under the unseasonal downpour. Swollen rivers and streams have swept across fields, washing away standing crops and leaving devastation behind.

Floodwaters surged into farms and homes, damaging bullock carts, ploughs, seeds, grains, wells, and even micro-irrigation systems. In several villages, livestock have been lost — more than 2,500 cattle in Marathwada alone. In many places, even the fertile topsoil have been washed away, leaving behind rocky terrain where nothing can grow.

For farmers, it is not just the crops that have vanished. With no fields to till, no harvest to look forward to, and the dairy business — once a fallback when crops failed — now ruined, they are left without food, income, or even homes to return to.

Maharashtra’s kharif season usually covers about 144 lakh hectares, with this year’s sowing completed on 136 lakh hectares after a promising start to the monsoon. But excessive rainfall has undone months of labor. Between August 1 and September 22 alone, 195 tehsils and 654 revenue circles reported heavy crop losses due to rains and floods.

Overall, 15 districts recorded above-normal rainfall, and in Marathwada, five districts fell into the ‘excess’ category, receiving more than 20 per cent above-average rains.

Suicide waves

The loss of kharif crops has already triggered a new wave of farmer suicides in Maharashtra, particularly in Marathwada and Vidarbha. Reports of deaths are emerging from across the two regions.

According to the state relief and rehabilitation department, in the last four years (2021–2024) 11,171 farmers ended their lives. Between January and March 2025 alone, 767 suicides were recorded.

“There were perennial droughts all these years which forced farmers to end their lives. And now this downpour. We are unable to understand what is happening. Both water scarcity and inundation are ruining our lives,” says Vanita Shende, a farmer from Tirzada village in Yavatmal district. A few years ago, her husband Yadavrao hanged himself after repeated crop failures caused by drought left him unable to repay mounting loans.  

In rain-battered Dharashiv district, Ashwini Bhore of Kothla village says that farmers are left on their own, and women in particular face a tougher battle to survive and sustain themselves after this natural tragedy.

Leaders’ show

Across political parties, leaders are busy visiting flood-affected areas accompanied by public relations teams. Their social media accounts are filled with videos and photographs of their tours, but farmers on the ground are still awaiting help.

Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis has announced that 31.64 lakh farmers have already benefited from ₹2,215 crore in government assistance. But farmers say this support is grossly inadequate.

“The government’s help will not even last us a few days. We have lost everything, and yet no immediate relief has reached us,” say farmers in Dharashiv.

The ruling alliance had launched the Ladki Bahin (beloved sister) scheme ahead of the 2024 state elections, with provisions of over ₹40,000 crore per year. The scheme played a key role in their electoral victory. But now, the government has shown reluctance to grant farm loan waivers or extend substantial assistance. Deputy Chief Minister Ajit Pawar insists the state is facing a cash crunch and “cannot pretend to have money.”

The government babus are leaving no stone unturned in showing their “concern” — by making farmers first click pictures of their ruined crops, then run through endless KYC formalities, and finally upload everything online. Because nothing says urgent relief like a marathon of paperwork and internet uploads in villages where even electricity plays hide and seek.

Tragedy lives on

“There will be more and more farmers quitting farming and moving to Pune and Mumbai in search of work. There will be an exodus,” warns activist Vikas Kamble from Latur. “People will abandon their homes, broken houses, and ravaged farms. Old people will be left behind to tell the story of tragedy.”

For many farmers, the devastation feels like a cruel combination of climate change, divine wrath, and government apathy.

For Shweta, the scar is personal and permanent. “Today, when I hear vehicle horns blowing, I get up in a huddle, thinking he has come back,” she says with a choked throat and tears in her eyes. It is hard for her to accept that her father never will come back.

Her only wish: “No child should lose a father the way my brother and I have already lost.”

Published on September 30, 2025