In recent weeks, small-scale farmers across Karnataka, the southern Indian state, have been grappling with a severe crash in crop prices. In the northern districts, including Belagavi—where over 6,200 hectares are under tomato cultivation—farmers are especially worried. Prices have dropped to as low as $10–$16 USD per 100 kilograms (one quintal), far below production costs.

According to farmers, a bumper harvest driven by favourable rains has caused an unexpected crisis. While summer usually brings higher prices for fruits and vegetables, this season has seen a surplus of tomatoes and plummeting prices.

In Kolar district, a major vegetable-growing region, tomatoes are selling for just ₹2–₹5 per kilogram (around $0.02–$0.06 USD). Many farmers have opted to leave tomatoes rotting in the fields—harvesting them simply doesn’t make economic sense.

One farmer from Kolar told The Hindu that current prices don’t even cover half the cost of production. Prices have been falling for six months, with the sharpest decline in recent weeks. Oversupply, competition from neighboring states, and quality issues have all contributed to the downturn.

Nalini Gowda from the Karnataka Rajya Raitha Sangha (KRRS), the state farmers’ association, noted that although this year’s output was high, overall yields have been inconsistent in recent years due to leaf curl disease (locally called bingi).

Beyond crop issues, farmers point to deeper, systemic problems: weak public procurement policies and a gradual loosening of government oversight on mandis (public agricultural markets) are making the situation worse.

Chukki Nanjundaswamy of KRRS warned that farmers across the state are struggling even to recover basic cultivation costs. And it’s not just tomatoes—farmers in southern Karnataka are reporting similar price crashes for crops like ginger and pigeon peas (toor dal).

In response, KRRS organized a three-day direct-marketing initiative in mid-April in Bengaluru, the state capital. This grassroots event allowed farmers to bypass middlemen and sell directly to consumers—a first-of-its-kind step for many.

Jaychandra Sharma, one of the organizers, said more such initiatives are in the works:

“We want to reduce the dependence on the middlemen from the supply chain. Farmers are earning next to nothing, but consumers in cities are still paying five to ten times that amount.”

Middlemen argue that rising fuel and transport costs justify the higher urban prices, but for farmers, it’s little comfort as they spiral deeper into debt.

Meanwhile, another pressure is mounting: land acquisition for real estate and industrial development. As Bengaluru expands, fertile farmland is being consumed by luxury housing and special economic zones. Farmers are being pushed to sell—often at unsustainable rates.

A farmer, selling pumpkins at the direct-marketing zone, voiced his frustration:

“The price crash traps us in a cycle of debt. Then come the land sharks. They pressure us to sell, and once the land is gone, there’s no turning back. Young people leave for the city—what do they do there? Work as security guards? We are farmers. If we stop farming, what will people eat—stones and sand?”

His frustration reflects a broader pattern.

In Devanahalli, near Bengaluru’s international airport, farmers have been engaged in a three-year-long peaceful protest against land acquisition efforts by the Karnataka Industrial Areas Development Board (KIADB). The region, once a thriving agricultural belt supporting diverse livelihoods—from horticulture and sericulture to grape cultivation and animal husbandry—is now under increasing pressure from urban expansion and industrial development. Last week, the situation took a distressing turn when a farmer, overwhelmed by the prolonged uncertainty and pressure, attempted to end his life. The incident has cast a somber light on the emotional and economic toll these land struggles have taken on farming communities.

A recent report by Deccan Herald journalist Varsha Gowda paints a grim picture of land loss and livelihoods.

Over the last two decades, more than 35% of farmers in North Bengaluru, Doddaballapur, and Devanahalli have sold their land. The results:

• 34% of displaced farming households took up no occupation post-sale
• Only 17.2% found formal employment
• The rest turned to manual labour, odd jobs, or informal trade

Most used the compensation money to repay debts or build modest homes, but few were able to rebuild stable livelihoods. The report highlights not just a loss of farmland, but a deeper erosion of dignity, autonomy, and community identity.

Still, there’s hope in grassroots efforts, Nalini Gowda from KRRS says.

“This direct marketing initiative is our form of resistance. Our crop, our price, our resistance. We want to stay visible and set the agenda. Of course, our struggle for a Minimum Support Price will continue, and we will keep reminding the State of its obligation to legally guarantee a fair minimum price. And initiatives like this help us connect directly with consumers—they can see the people behind the food on their plate. Maybe they’ll stand with us in our demands.”

According to KRRS, the turnout for the first such initiative in recent times has been tremendous. Farmers reported impressive collective sales with nearly 5,000 consumers visiting over the course of three days. Jayachandra cites the example of a papaya farmer: “He was able to sell his produce at ₹20 per kg at the santhe, compared to the APMC rates of ₹6–8. Consumers were happy as they could get fresh produce at a lower price than the market rate of around ₹40 per kg.”

Encouraged by the enthusiastic response from the people of Bengaluru to its initiative of enabling farmers to sell directly to consumers, the Karnataka Rajya Raitha Sangha has decided to organize such markets every fortnight.