Nepal: My 27 years of experience growing up in an agrarian family

I come from a beautiful place in Nepal known as Hemja, Pokhara- situated at the foothills of snow-capped mountains, surrounded by lush green hills, offering a unique blend of natural beauty and cultural heritage.

By Dikshya Poudel
Vancouver BC
Dec 7, 2025

[Must see. Mike]

I have been volunteering at the City Farmer organization in Vancouver for a month now. While raking the garden and preparing mulch beds for winter, Mike (the organization head) and I often find ourselves discussing how agriculture has shaped our lives, why it is important to connect people with nature, and how teamwork can encourage more people to engage in farming. During these conversations, I often recall agricultural practices in Nepal and describe to him what a typical farming day back home looks like. This made Mike curious about whether the agricultural system I grew up with was urban, peri-urban, or rural. He suggested that I write down my experiences and knowledge about my family’s agricultural practices and share them with others involved in community farming, the City Farmer organization, and anyone who finds comfort in getting their hands in the soil and connecting with nature through agriculture. So here I am, summarizing my 27 years of experience growing up in an agrarian family; witnessing the transformation of agriculture in Nepal and hoping that farming will soon evolve from a subsistence activity into a recognized and respected profession for farmers.

I come from a beautiful place in Nepal known as Hemja, Pokhara- situated at the foothills of snow-capped mountains, surrounded by lush green hills, offering a unique blend of natural beauty and cultural heritage. Like many regions in Nepal, agriculture has traditionally been the main occupation in Hemja. However, this is gradually shifting to other occupations due to improved road access, better education, and outmigration in search of better income opportunities. Agriculture in Hemja can be categorized as peri-urban, as most farmers are smallholders who typically own less than a hectare of land, practice intensive farming, integrating livestock rearing with crop production and farms are semi-commercial or fully commercial, primarily growing perishable vegetables for nearby urban markets in Pokhara, while also cultivating staple crops such as rice, wheat, and maize for household consumption. I grew up in one such farming family whose livelihood depended entirely on the income generated from agriculture. My parents own approximately 0.5 acres of land, entirely allotted for vegetable farming and nearly less than 0.2 acres for cereal crops. We grow vegetables all year round, but the summer season is comparatively busier than others since our agricultural activities rely heavily on monsoon rains for the main crop cycle, particularly rice, as well as for collecting fodder for livestock from the forests. Summer season vegetable cultivation includes cucurbits, beans, tomatoes, maize, whereas winter season commences with rice harvest and cultivation of crucifers (particularly, cauliflower, cabbage, and broccoli). Almost every farm cultivates one crop as a main crop, whereas allocates small land for all types of vegetable grown in the particular season to diversify vegetable intake- highlighting the key to sustainable and climate resilient agriculture in their specific environment.

While agriculture is full-time job for my parents, I remember me and my siblings assisting them in field when we had holidays and sometimes even missing the school lessons during the peak agricultural activities: our small hands trying to keep up with the pace of the season. It was simply what the family needed, and we all pitched in. Due to poverty and limited access to education, farming was the only source of income for my grandparents, a role that was later taken up by my parents as well. While relying on agriculture reflected economic hardship, for them it also meant that traditions, beliefs, and indigenous knowledge were passed down through generations to generations, shaping their identity and way of life. A typical day in my mom’s life starts as early as 5:00 a.m., beginning with household chores- cleaning, cooking- and then leaving for the forest (nearly a two-hour walk from my house) to collect grass for the livestock. The journey is exhausting, but she makes it look effortless, carrying 25–30 kg of grass in a doko (a typical Nepali basket used for carrying grass) strapped to her head and back. In winter, she walks the same route, not for grass but for leaves to prepare warm bedding for the cows. While she’s gone, my father milks the cow, cleans the shed, and heads to the fields as early as he can. The idea of rearing at least one livestock animal is to obtain manure necessary for farming and to sell animal products (milk, meat, or eggs) to earn additional income. We sell one-fourth of the cow’s milk to the dairy and keep the rest to prepare yogurt and ghee (typically made by collecting milk cream, churning it into butter using a local vessel, and heating the butter to remove water content to obtain clarified butter), and sometimes paneer. This routine is still shaping my parents’ days, except now my mom only has to carry the grass a short distance; with better road access, she can bring it home on a scooter or have it transported much more easily than before. Another highlight of our agricultural practice is the “Parma system” which a traditional, reciprocal labor exchange where community members help each other with tasks like planting or harvesting without payment. It is based on mutual support and social obligation, which help strengthen social bonds and supports the community to remain self-reliant. Almost all the agricultural work, from field preparation to harvesting, is manual, requiring large amount of labor. However, small-holder farmers like my parents cannot afford to hire labor and thus depend on Parma system. We also practice this system: my father usually goes to neighbor’s fields to do the labor-intensive farm work, such as ploughing the land, digging, or carrying harvested crops to the threshing ground, while my mother takes part in the more routine tasks like planting, weeding, top-dressing, and harvesting. Through this way, they have saved money on extra labor cost throughout their agricultural years and worked tirelessly to fulfill our needs and dreams.

Farming here is exclusively manual, from ploughing through harvesting. We hardly apply chemical fertilizer or pesticides, not because we are fully organic, but because such inputs arrive late or are too expensive for smallholders to afford. If I say that agriculture in Nepal has hardly changed, it may not be wrong. Other than the expansion of road networks that improved market access, most government subsidies and extension services rarely reach the farmers who need them most. Middlemen dominate the market, so farmers do not receive fair prices for their produce. Lack of cold storage and basic technologies often forces them to sell their crops at throwaway prices or let them rot in the fields. I have grown up witnessing both the joy and the heartbreak that farming brings to my parents. I have seen them overwhelmed with happiness after a good harvest that meets our needs, and in tears when heavy rains or hailstorms destroyed everything, leaving us deficit for rest of the year’s supply and this mirrors nearly 90% of Nepal’s smallholder farmers situation. A little support in technology, timely extension services, reliable market regulation, fair pricing, and targeted subsidies could transform their livelihoods. Such support could not only help farmers like my parents live with dignity but also contribute significantly to Nepal’s economic growth and even inspire younger generations to see agriculture as a worthy profession. Even though my siblings and I are abroad for work, and our income can provide our parents with a comfortable life, they remain deeply rooted in farming. If I ever need to find them, I know I will see them in the fields: my mother tending her plants with patience and care, and my father working beside her, helping in whatever way he can. Their strength, resilience, and unwavering commitment to survival and food security embody the true spirit of Nepal’s farmers.

Contact Dikshya: [ dikshyapoudel82 (at) gmail.com ] 

Complete paper with a collection of photos.