Bhiwapur Chilli in Nagpur District of Vidarbha: A Traditional Crop Losing Ground

thenewsdirt
Mar 25
5 min read

In a quiet corner of Maharashtra’s Vidarbha region, there’s a tradition growing in the red soil, known more by its colour and sting than its fame.

It doesn’t compete for headlines or attract global awards, but its significance runs deep among the farmers who still hold on to it, quite literally, seed by seed.

This chilli, known locally and officially as the Bhiwapur chilli, is far from ordinary, and its story is worth more than a glance.

More Than Just Spice on a Plate

The Bhiwapur chilli’s origin is closely tied to its namesake town of Bhiwapur in Vidarbha's Nagpur district. Cultivated in this region for generations, it has long been known for its fiery heat, intense red hue, and surprisingly wide-ranging use.

The distinctiveness of the Bhiwapur chilli lies in both how it looks and what it offers. Visually, its deep, glowing red is striking, and chemically, it contains a higher capsaicin content than most other Indian varieties.

This combination gives it a strong presence in the kitchen. Dishes from Maharashtra, particularly the sharp, rustic "Varhadi Thecha", gain their bite and flavour from this very chilli.

But its influence goes beyond food. The chilli’s natural oleoresin content, higher than average, has given it value in cosmetic industries too.

Manufacturers of red lipsticks, nail paints, and coloured creams seek out this chilli’s extract for its rich pigment. Despite this versatility, however, its cultivation remains limited because recognition and market demand haven’t translated into sustainable income for most growers.

One would expect that premium pricing would give farmers more reason to stay with the crop.

While dried Bhiwapur chillies command rates between ₹8,000 and ₹12,000 per quintal, with fresh chillies fetching around ₹2,000 to ₹2,400, the yield and return on investment tell another story.

From an acre, a farmer might harvest five quintals of dried produce after investing around ₹45,000. Compared to hybrids, which deliver more per acre with less labour and time, these figures explain the steady decline.

Still, some farmers persist. Not because it’s practical, but because it’s personal. For many, it’s what they know, and what their families have known.

One grower, part of a line that has cultivated the chilli for four generations, put it simply: “It’s just what we do.” That’s not an economic strategy, it’s a quiet act of keeping something alive.

Soil, Sun, and the Slow Cycle of Cultivation

Bhiwapur chillies aren’t grown everywhere for good reason. Their success depends on the exact environment they’ve adapted to over time.

The soil in this part of Vidarbha holds water well and contains a rare mix of micronutrients, iron, manganese, and copper, all of which influence the colour and flavour of the fruit.

The region receives reliable monsoon rainfall between 1250 and 1350 mm annually, and its climate swings between hot summers and humid monsoons with an average yearly temperature near 30°C.

In these conditions, the chilli follows a traditional cycle. Seeds go into nursery beds in July. Transplantation happens in August, often with the aid of organic manure.

The first signs of flowering appear after about 45 days, and within 60 days, green chillies begin to form. Farmers wait patiently for the fruit to ripen on the plant, not dry out entirely, but reach the point where the deep red sets in.

Then comes the sun-drying stage, done by hand, turning fresh chillies into the distinctive red powder known and used by home cooks and food vendors across the region.

This isn’t quick work. It requires observation, judgment, and patience. Timing matters. Rain at the wrong moment, a disease in the field, or poor sunlight during drying can affect the final product.

Unlike hybrids, which are designed for speed and volume, Bhiwapur chillies follow a path laid down over decades. There’s no shortcut here, that’s a hard sell in a farming economy where returns must be predictable.

A Slow Retreat in the Heart of the Region

Despite its high-quality traits and official recognition through a Geographical Indication (GI) tag awarded in 2016-17, its presence in local farms has shrunk dramatically.

Back in the 1980s, the chilli occupied over 1,500 hectares across Bhiwapur, Kuhi and Umred talukas. As of 2025, it covers barely 125 acres in Bhiwapur and another 30 in Kuhi, a drastic decline that shows no signs of slowing.

The numbers are clear. The traditional crop has made way for hybrid varieties offering better yield and lower risk. These modern alternatives, while lacking the defining traits of the Bhiwapur chilli, offer something even more attractive: better economics.

With improved irrigation systems and access to new seed varieties, farmers across Vidarbha have adapted, often leaving behind crops that no longer meet their financial goals.

In an industry where a bad season can change everything, the move towards hybrids is hardly surprising. Still, the cultural and culinary relevance of the Bhiwapur chilli lingers, even as fields once red with its fruit gradually give way to newer, faster-growing alternatives.

Carrying a Name Forward, or Letting It Fade

Recognition of the Bhiwapur chilli as a GI product gave much hope. It was meant to offer protection, establish brand value, and help build a market that rewarded growers for sticking with tradition. In theory, it did all that.

But in practice, the tag has not changed the fundamental issues of low yield, high labour, and shrinking farmer interest.

A few people continue to advocate for its preservation. The Bhiwapuri Chilli Growers Association, supported by seasoned growers and some state initiatives, works to promote awareness and share cultivation knowledge.

Farmers like Narayan Lambat, who received a Krishi Bhushan award for his work, remain committed to showcasing what makes this chilli worth saving.

But even with these efforts, the reality is sobering. Without concrete market mechanisms that offer better compensation or a dedicated buyer base willing to pay not just for heat but for heritage, the chilli remains vulnerable.

The risk isn’t a dramatic disappearance overnight. Rather, it’s a quiet phase-out. Each season, fewer fields, fewer farmers, and less knowledge passed on.

The future may lie in niche markets that recognise the chilli’s identity, not just in India but among global consumers who value origin-based food products.

But that requires infrastructure, branding, and awareness, none of which are easy to build from scratch. And without that, the chilli’s position will likely keep slipping, until one day, perhaps, it’s gone from fields and only remains in stories.

The Bhiwapur chilli isn’t the most famous, the highest yielding, or the most commercially viable. But it means something to those who grow it.

Whether that meaning turns into a viable path forward or stays a fragment of agricultural memory depends on what happens next.

Not with declarations, but decisions made on fields, in markets, and perhaps around dinner tables where someone still asks, “Is this the real Bhiwapur mirchi?”