A Solapur farmer’s darkest hour

Maloji Chavan does not need a guiding hand once he is in his one-acre vineyard. He steps away from his friend Santosh Hingmire, his movements guided by instinct rather than sight. The 31-year-old farmer is visually disabled but is very familiar with the lay of his land.

“Do you see this branch?” he asks, pointing to an iron pole supporting a grape climber.

“Which one?” we wonder, momentarily unsure.

Smiling at the irony, Maloji leans forward and gently lifts a tender shoot, its five fresh leaves curling at the tip. Running his fingers along it, he says quietly, “It hasn’t grown well. It won’t give bulbs. The roots were damaged. They didn’t get enough sun for months.”

That single creeper tells the larger story of his one-acre vineyard, part of a five-acre irrigated farm owned by his parents, Dhanaji and Pushpabai. There will be no grapes this year. Sugarcane shoots and other fruit trees on the farm are decaying as well. The family estimates cumulative losses of Rs. 10 lakh. This will set them back financially by at least a decade.

The devastating damage is the result of extreme rainfall events during the 2025 monsoon when rains simply did not pause. Not in Jamgaon. Not across Solapur district, nor in neighbouring Beed and Dharashiv districts of Marathwada. By early November 2025, soybean fields and vineyards lay wrecked. Swollen rivulets – usually dry for most of the year – were in full flow across this drought-prone belt.

From mid-May to the October-end 2025, western Maharashtra and Marathwada experienced long, relentless spells of rain. The situation worsened dramatically between September 19 and 25, when a series of cloudbursts and flash floods destroyed standing crops, orchards, soils, livestock, and in some cases human lives. Across Solapur district, officials counted more than 47,000 hectares of irreparably damaged crops.

The number does not fully capture the slow rot in sugarcane fields and vineyards, where just a few days of excess moisture can erase an entire year’s labour. Grapes and sugarcane are the backbone of the district’s agrarian economy.

“In this entire belt, vineyards suffered heavy damage,” says Hingmire, who accompanies Maloji more as support than guide.

By mid September 2025, the soil of drought-prone Solapur’s farmlands was saturated. The unusually wet monsoon saw the district receive over 600 mm rain between June and September – nearly 125 per cent of its long-period average. In a region where farmers count rainfall in millimeters, such excess was unprecedented.

When the skies opened on September 19, it brought intense spells of heavy rain – unknown in this region’s history: The three-day stretch of cloudbursts caught farmers mid-harvest, and completely unprepared.

On September 24, the rain-gauge of Mahisgaon in Madha tehsil – close to Jamgaon – recorded a staggering 174 mm rain in 24 hours, the highest in this belt. Nearby stations of Ropale Khurd (142 mm) and Kurduwadi (131 mm) reported similar spikes, enough to inundate roots, breach bunds, and turn vineyards like Maloji’s into waterlogged trenches.

“Sagli jamin kharvadun geli pausa mule [The entire land was eroded due to rain],” Maloji recalls. For days, he says, no one could move out of home.

Scientists at the National Research Centre for Grapes (NRCC), inspected vineyards across Maharashtra in October and warned that farmers could lose up to 50 per cent yields in the state this year after they found low-bud fruitfulness due to prolonged rainfall and inadequate sunlight. Vineyards in Solapur, Dharashiv, and Pune’s Junnar tehsil were still waterlogged when they conducted their inspection.

Maharashtra produces about 80 per cent of India’s grapes, spread across nearly 1.5 lakh hectares. Under normal conditions, vineyards yield 12 to 16 tonnes per acre. In the 2025-26 season, scientists project half the average yield. Excess moisture, fungal attacks, and lack of sunlight have crippled bud development, slashing incomes by more than half. For grapes, sunlight is as crucial as water, growers like Maloji say.

“Overall production cost for an acre of grapes, including the frame to erect the vines, comes to around 3.5 to 4 lakh rupees for one season,” says Tushar Dawange, a large farmer and exporter in Nashik. “Depending upon the variety, an acre yields about 8 to 15 tonnes. This year, production has halved.”

“Our worry is not just that this year’s crop is gone,” Maloji says. “It is how to survive until next year.”

Maloji was not born with a visual disability. He began losing his sight at age 16 due to glaucoma, a condition that damages the optic nerve and leads to a loss of vision if untreated. First his peripheral vision faded, then his left eye. In his village, neither his parents nor he understood the seriousness of the condition. Medical care was distant and inaccessible – the closest eye hospital is 50 km away in Solapur.

“One day in 2018, I came home from Madha town where I had gone to meet a friend. I could not see at all,” he recalls. The shock overwhelmed the 23-year-old. He cried alone on the farm the next day, unable to comprehend what had happened. At his lowest moment, he considered serious self-harm. A friend from a nearby temple intervened, calling repeatedly until someone reached the farm and brought him home.

His parents and village friends lent him their support initially since he could not walk by himself. He had to give up driving his motorcycle. Maloji’s father Dhanaji admits they did not understand what their son was going through. “Pan amhala kalalech nahi [But we could never understand],” Dhanaji tells PARI.

Maloji’s loss of sight was compounded by drought on his land. “That year – 2018 – we had watermelons in the field, no market, and loans to repay.” The crop came a cropper, because there was no rain.

After months of despair, Maloji resolved to become self-reliant. Armed with a stick and determination, he taught himself to navigate the village by sound. He lived for a time with shepherds near Tasgaon in Sangli, memorising routes and learning to adapt. He mastered a key phone and memorised tens of important numbers. Often, he would fall.

Villagers began calling him ‘Baba’, seeing him as a resilient and dependable man. He remained socially active, even joining protests during the Maratha reservation movement in solidarity. In his village, he buried himself neck-deep in sand as a mark of protest, something that stirred the villagers, he recalls.

In 2021, Maloji married Mukta Pawar, a visually disabled woman from Parbhani who had lost her sight at four due to measles. Mukta had completed her graduation, trained as a special educator, and worked with children with disabilities.

Their marriage brought stability and hope. Maloji switched to organic farming, building bio-cultures and studying new methods through Youtube content and consultations with experts. “Our dreams were small,” he says, “but we were very happy.”

On September 14, 2025, Mukta delivered their first child – a healthy baby boy they are yet to name. For Maloji, it felt like light returning to his life.

Days later, the heavens opened. Between September 19 and 21, the already saturated land turned into rushing streams. Sugarcane fields drowned. Seasonal rivers swelled, changed course, and washed away bunds and topsoil.

The family’s open-well overflowed for the first time in Dhanaji’s memory. Maloji’s vineyard – dependent on precise cycles of air and sunlight – remained submerged.

“I had no heart to return to the farm,” Maloji says. He stayed away for nearly two months. His parents returned to salvage what little they could. Across Maharashtra, farmers reported similar devastation caused by climate chaos. Read: After the deluge, a flood of calls

Crop losses were compounded by livestock deaths. Maloji’s family debt now stands at roughly Rs. 15 lakh, borrowed from banks, private lenders, and friends.

Maloji and Mukta had an additional blow in store. After childbirth, Mukta faced medical difficulties and could not breastfeed. Their child now depends on baby food – expensive and difficult to source.

“We need to buy it frequently,” Malojis says. “And it’s quite expensive.”

Mukta returned temporarily to her parental home in Parbhani, where her own family had suffered crop losses in the 2025 monsoon. Alone in Jamgaon, Maloji struggled with financial pressure and isolation.

“I was worried about how to take care of my child,” he says. “How much can I borrow from friends who are also in trouble?”

Late one evening in October, overwhelmed, he called the Shivar Helpline for farmers. A volunteer listened patiently. “That timely call saved me,” Maloji says. “I won’t ever go that way.”

Across rural Maharashtra, Maloji’s story has echoes in thousands of households that face ruined dreams and struggle with dark thoughts.

“I don’t worry about my blindness,” he says bluntly. “My challenges are markets, erratic weather, government apathy, and lack of meaningful opportunities.”

Government relief – about Rs. 10,000 – doesn’t help. Maloji plans to prune and replant parts of his vineyard and grow short-duration vegetables for quick income in the remaining season. He spends hours on phone calls with experts, nurseries, and farmers, mapping a way forward.

Meanwhile Mukta is preparing for competitive exams for bank or other sector jobs. “I need a job,” she says.

On the farm, uncertainty remains – damaged soils, unpredictable monsoons, fragile finances.

It’s around 12 noon in early November 2025. The afternoons are cold, and the soil is still damp. Maloji stands in his vineyard, one hand resting on an iron pole, fingers grazing the tender leaves.

“I can’t see my plants,” he says, “I feel them.”

In a year shaped by climate shocks, institutional apathy, and market volatility, Maloji Chavan holds on to the smallest of green shoots – in life and on plants.