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A drought does not begin with a government notification. It begins when a farmer watches his crop wilt, when a Maldhari walks farther in search of grass and water, when a family starts buying drinking water, and when livestock—built up over generations—has to be sold or transported elsewhere simply to survive. That is increasingly the reality in Gujarat’s largest district of Kutch.
The latest figures emerging from the district paint a deeply worrying picture. This year, around 0.482 million hectares (mha) have been brought under cultivation in Kutch, but only about 0.18 mha have access to irrigation. The remaining farmland is largely dependent on rainfall. Last year, around 0.65 mha were cultivated, indicating the sharp contraction in the agricultural area this year.
The crisis is not confined to farms. Around 2.1 million livestock—central to the economy and food security of Kutch’s pastoral communities—are now facing severe shortages of fodder and water. And migration has already begun. The crop has failed before the monsoon has officially ended.
By early September, Kutch had received only about 29.5 per cent of its normal seasonal rainfall, according to official data from the India Metrological Department (IMD). Subsequent assessments put the rainfall deficit at around 60 per cent. Some talukas (sub-districts) have received less than 10 per cent of their normal rainfall.
The latest reports show how this deficit is translating into ground-level distress. Of the 0.482 mha cultivated this year, only about 0.18 mha are irrigated. The remaining area is vulnerable to prolonged dry spells. Crops that survived the initial sowing phase are now reaching a critical stage without sufficient soil moisture.
This is particularly serious because Kutch’s agrarian economy has always been closely tied to the monsoon. A failed monsoon is not simply a failed crop; it means loss of household income, inability to repay agricultural loans, reduced employment and greater dependence on already stretched water and food systems.
The situation is made worse by shrinking water reserves. Kutch’s 19 medium irrigation reservoirs reportedly have only about 19 per cent of their storage available, while the district’s 170 small irrigation schemes have only around 13 per cent water availability, according to the latest local reporting.
The contrast is stark: there may be water in parts of Gujarat, but it is not necessarily available where Kutch’s farmers and livestock need it.
The Gujarat government’s own response has so far focused on ensuring drinking water and fodder in deficient districts, including Kutch. But for farmers whose standing crops are drying, drinking water alone cannot prevent agricultural losses.
Perhaps the most visible sign that the crisis has crossed a threshold is the beginning of pastoral migration.
In Lakhpat taluka, Maldhari families have started leaving with their livestock because local supplies of grass and water are no longer adequate. According to local media reports, more than 700 animals have already been moved, with around a dozen or more pastoral families involved in the initial migration.
Trucks are being loaded not merely with household belongings but with the animals on which these families depend for their livelihoods. And this could be only the beginning. Local pastoralists fear that 2,500-3,000 animals may have to be moved if fodder and water are not urgently arranged.
This is not voluntary seasonal migration in search of better grazing. It is distress migration. For a Maldhari household, livestock represents accumulated wealth, food, milk, social security and livelihood. Moving animals hundreds of kilometres is expensive and disruptive. Selling them under distress is even worse: once a herd is broken up, rebuilding it may take years.
The latest reports from Lakhpat also describe pastoralists facing difficulties while transporting animals, including long waits at toll points. These may appear to be administrative inconveniences, but during a drought, every delay means additional expenditure on water, fodder and animal care.
The pastoral economy is particularly vulnerable because its different components are interconnected. No grass means more purchased fodder. More purchased fodder means higher costs. Poor nutrition and inadequate water reduce animal health and milk production. Lower milk production then means less household income.
Earlier reports from Kutch indicated that milk production had already fallen by more than one lakh (0.1 million) litres a day, from normal monsoon levels of roughly five lakh (0.5 million) litres. Fodder prices have also risen sharply. Dry fodder that normally costs around Rs 6 per kilogram has reportedly reached around Rs 12 per kilogram in the retail market. For a household maintaining dozens of animals, this is unsustainable.
The latest situation in Lakhpat is therefore not simply about the availability of grass. It threatens the viability of the entire livestock-based economy—from milk production and household incomes to local dairies and rural employment.
The unfolding crisis also exposes a larger problem: we continue to treat grazing commons and grasslands as ecological spaces separate from the economy. They are not. For the Maldharis, grasslands are productive infrastructure. They provide fodder, support livestock, sustain milk production and reduce the need for purchased feed.
The Banni grasslands, one of Kutch’s most important pastoral landscapes, are a particularly important example. Earlier reporting this year found that Banni had virtually no standing grass after the delayed monsoon, forcing livestock keepers to depend increasingly on purchased fodder and remaining water sources.
The ecological consequences can be serious as well. When natural grazing areas dry up, herds change their traditional routes and concentrate around the few remaining water and fodder sources. This increases pressure on already fragile landscapes. Thus, protecting commons during drought is not charity for pastoralists. It is an investment in the local economy and ecosystem.
Kutch’s water situation makes the current distress even more difficult to understand. As of September 7, the district’s 20 reservoirs reportedly had only 23.79 per cent of total storage and 18.19 per cent live storage. This is why farmers and pastoralists are increasingly asking for water through the Narmada-linked infrastructure.
The demand is understandable. If crops are already wilting and local reservoirs are approaching critical levels, access to available water elsewhere becomes a matter of livelihood protection.
But this must be accompanied by a careful, transparent and equitable water allocation strategy. Drinking water has to remain the first priority, while targeted irrigation and livestock water supplies should be considered wherever technically and ecologically feasible.
The question is not simply whether Gujarat has water. It is who has access to it, where, when and for what purpose.
There is a tendency in administration to wait for drought conditions to satisfy formal criteria before activating relief. But drought is experienced on the ground long before it appears in a government notification.
Kutch now needs an immediate, area-specific response:
Emergency fodder depots in severely affected talukas, with priority to pastoral villages and mobile livestock populations.
Immediate release and distribution of available government fodder reserves, particularly where stored grass can prevent distress migration.
Drinking-water arrangements for livestock, including tankers and temporary water points where necessary.
Veterinary camps, animal-health monitoring and emergency support for weakened livestock.
A rapid crop-loss assessment covering rainfed farms, followed by compensation and other relief measures.
Employment support through VB-GRAM G and other programmes so that rural households do not have to sell productive assets to survive.
A transparent assessment of where Narmada water can provide targeted relief without compromising drinking-water security.
Special assistance to pastoral families that have already begun migration with their herds.
The response must also recognise that Kutch’s farmers and Maldharis are not separate constituencies. They share the same rainfall, groundwater, reservoirs, grazing commons and rural economy.
Kutch’s current crisis should also force a rethink of drought policy.
The district’s traditional resilience has never depended entirely on large dams and canals. It has also rested on livestock mobility, commons, traditional water systems, local fodder resources and community knowledge of an exceptionally variable climate.
Climate variability is now making those systems more fragile.
A drought-resilient Kutch therefore needs more than emergency tankers. It needs restoration of village ponds and traditional water-harvesting structures; protection and regeneration of grazing commons; local fodder banks; better livestock-water infrastructure; stronger rainfed farming systems; and village-level drought preparedness.
Most importantly, pastoralists must be treated not as victims waiting for relief, but as knowledge-holders and partners in managing Kutch’s fragile landscapes.
For many people in Kutch, the drought has already begun. The farmer sees it in the drying field. The Maldhari sees it in the empty grazing land. The dairy sees it in falling milk collections. The family sees it in the rising price of fodder and water. And now the road is beginning to carry trucks loaded with livestock towards places where animals may still find something to eat and drink.
The question before the government is no longer whether Kutch is facing drought. It is whether action will arrive before drought becomes irreversible livelihood loss.
Views expressed are the author’s own and don’t necessarily reflect those of Down To Earth