A highly labour-intensive agricultural crop, makhana has been witnessing rising popularity in urban India and export demand. How has this surge affected the farmers who cultivate it?
While most people steer clear of ponds in December’s bone-chilling weather, Chhabbu Manjhi wades knee-deep into his makhana (foxnut) pond on a foggy afternoon in Bihar’s Hasanpur village. Shrubs cling to the water’s surface as he bends to clear them away. “If I don’t remove these, they disturb the new seeds when they begin to grow,” says the 58-year-old farmer, his breath visible in the winter air. A resident of Bihar’s Darbhanga district, Chhabbu is one of its many makhana farmers.
Small, round, white balls with tiny black or brown patches, makhana has long been a regional staple in the Mithilanchal region of Bihar, spanning districts such as Darbhanga, Madhubani, Sitamarhi, and parts of Janakpur. Traditionally grown in shallow ponds and wetlands, the crop demands intimate, physical engagement with water, often in harsh climatic conditions. The state alone contributes to approximately 90 percent of India’s overall makhana production.
In the last decade, the crop has gained popularity as a healthy snack in urban regions, a trend that crescendoed during the Covid-19 pandemic years. Soon after, in 2022, makhana received its Geographical Indication (GI) tag, which bolstered its perception as an option that is low in fat and protein rich, thus enabling its way into export markets and urban health stores, finds Vidya Nath Jha, retired Professor of Botany at the Lalit Narayan Mithila University, Darbhanga.
According to Jha, the Purnea Makhana Utpadak Sangh—a farmers’ and producers’ organisation—had originally applied for a GI tag for Bihar Makhana. However, following sustained opposition from Maithil groups such as the Darbhanga-based Vidyapati Sewa Sansthan, who asserted that the crop’s cultural and geographical roots lie in the Mithila region, the tag was finally granted as Mithila Makhana. He adds, “A wind of change came post 2022 and today, makhana is flavoured, packaged, and premium-priced, while its harvesting still looks much the same: daily-wage labourers wading waist-deep into ponds during winter, [managing] seeds by hand in near-freezing water.”
“Makhana cultivation is one of the most labour-intensive agricultural practices in the country,” Chhabbu says. Makhana can be grown in fields and ponds, with practices and schedules varying by method, but the drudgery involved remains nearly the same. For makhana growing in ponds, the sowing begins during the harsh winter months, while harvesting takes place in September. To ensure ideal growing conditions, farmers have to first prepare ponds by clearing weeds and maintaining stable water level, followed by months spent harvesting the seeds from the pond-bed, embedded there by the force of the rains. These months—of intense physical labour, during which ponds and crops require maintenance across extreme weather conditions—determine households’ annual income.
Harvesting is followed by processing, involving drying, roasting, tempering, roasting again, and popping the seeds using a mallet; this process is also entirely manual, requiring great precision and skill. “Yet we get only a fraction of the market price [of makhana] because there is no minimum support price. We invest heavily just to make modest profits,” Chhabbu shares. On his land spanning 10 acres, Chhabbu employs nearly 80 labourers over the course of a year, for distinct work like harvesting, cleaning the pond, and sowing. “Harvesting alone consumes the most labour and cost. It continues till the end of October,” he says, lifting a freshly germinated sapling from the pond for a photograph. He hires daily wage farmers and pays them rupees 800 per day of work. During the harvesting season, workers might also earn according to the weight of seeds harvested, earning between rupees 100 and 150 per kilogram of seeds collected. Chhabbu’s yearly profit is roughly rupees 6,00,000.
To ensure ideal growing conditions, farmers have to first prepare ponds by clearing weeds and maintaining stable water level, followed by months spent harvesting the seeds from the pond-bed, embedded there by the force of the rains.
“Those who sell outside Bihar and outside India are the ones who make the real money,” Chhabbu shares. In Bihar’s local markets, the price of makhana varies widely depending on its stage and quality. At the farmgate, raw seeds may sell for as little as rupees 270 to 300 per kilogram, shares Amar Jha, a Madhubani-based exporter. Once processed and graded, wholesale prices typically range between rupees 400 and 850 per kilogram, while retail prices can climb to rupees 800 to 1,500 or more for higher quality varieties. By the time it enters export channels, prices rise further. Export-grade makhana is typically priced above rupees 1,000 per kilogram, with premium varieties fetching even higher rates in international retail markets.
For many farm labourers, the inequity is even starker. Despite working through unsafe and grueling conditions in deep, thorny ponds with no safety equipment, most earn too little to be able to afford to consume makhana themselves. Often, C-grade produce—“the leftover, smallest makhana category”, share farm labourers—is given to them for free as an informal form of compensation by land-holding farmers, Chhabbu says. While makhana continues to be consumed locally, especially during fasts and festivals, growing external demand has resulted in higher quality makhana becoming inaccessible. Before the demand boom, makhana was part of a more localised market with relatively stable prices and limited export linkages. Today, the market is more stratified, with clearer distinctions between grades and destinations.
Chhabbu shares that several agriculture students and farmers from different parts of the country have visited him and other locals to understand the process and details of cultivating foxnut. Pointing to black spheres floating on the pond’s surface, Chhabbu explains, “These are leftover seeds. We will begin sowing again in a couple of months. Germination starts within a week.”
At the other end of the foxnut industry are people like Syed Faraz, 32, an entrepreneur who began producing flavoured makhana and makhana-based products during the pandemic. Today, his brand Shhe Foods—established in 2021 along with Shishir Shubham—exports cookies, pasta, and snack variants to more than 10 countries. While foxnuts and foxnut-based products are processed in Darbhanga, their products are exported to the US, the UAE, Australia, and New Zealand.
Before the demand boom, makhana was part of a more localised market with relatively stable prices and limited export linkages.
According to Faraz, the GI verification helped standardise sourcing, unlock export markets, and trigger a business boom while also providing employment to local farmers and their family members in the processing, packaging, and branding of products.
In 2022, with support from the Pradhan Mantri Formalisation of MicroFood Processing Enterprises (PMFME) scheme marking a turning point, Faraz and Shishir began hiring local workers. Shhe Foods currently employs 2,500 farmers in Bihar’s Mithilanchal region. Some of the women working for Shhe Foods understand the formalisation of makhana’s markets as an important source of livelihood. “We work a six-hour shift for rupees 10,000 per month and are happy with it,” said Purnima Thakur, a 44-year-old woman who was a domestic worker earlier and earned rupees 2,500 per month for two hours of daily work. At Shhe Foods, she segregates makhana into its quality-based categories.
While makhana’s increasing popularity lies in its unique nutritious value, it has long been a crucial part of Mithilanchal’s culinary map. Chhabbu shares, “It is widely used during Hindu fasting periods such as Navratri and also features in Iftar meals during Ramzan, cutting across religious practices.” During Kojagara, a harvest-linked celebration particularly important for newly married couples in Mithila, makhana is prepared in traditional dishes and offered as part of the ritual spread. Beyond festivals and special occasions, makhana is a part of everyday culinary habits in Mithilanchal. “We savour it as a snack—lightly roasted with ghee, salt, and black pepper. It also turns into a delicious dessert as makhana kheer and a main dish as makhana curry,” Jha says. Since being conferred with a GI tag, the networks surrounding Mithilanchal’s makhana have grown broader and more complex; in such contexts, local cultural significance and surrounding knowledge often become threatened.
Jigyasa Mishra is an independent journalist and visual artist who writes, photographs, and illustrates stories from across rural India on gender, health, civil liberties, environment, and caste.
