Suman Sahai | ‘Ghost Villages’ a Growing Threat in Uttarakhand & India’s Hill Areas

Recently, a tragic situation arose at a village in Uttarakhand’s Pithoragarh, where not enough men could be found to carry the body of an elderly woman to the cremation ground. Finally, some SSB jawans stepped in to complete the last rites.

Uttarakhand’s villages are emptying out, with young people moving out for a variety of reasons, sometimes leaving elderly parents, and often just locking up their homes.

Forsaking the village has become common in Uttarakhand’s hill districts. The youth don’t want to continue with the traditional occupation of agriculture: it’s not remunerative enough. Thus, abandoned fields, collapsing cattle sheds and locked houses define areas that once sustained vibrant agrarian communities.

These “ghost villages” are described as a natural outcome of modernisation. But that’s a false narrative. Modernisation does not mean abandoning the traditional, rather improving and enhancing the traditional. That is where policymakers have failed.

Little effort has been made in villages in hill areas, particularly in Uttarakhand, to diversify and develop the village economy, create good educational and health facilities and provide attractive jobs and income opportunities. It’s also the result of not investing in agriculture, which is the economy’s mainstay in these areas. The new element is the contribution of television and now social media, showing fantasy worlds where there are rich and beautiful people and everything is glitz and glamour. The triumph of illusion over reality creates a magnetic attraction for the younger generation. It’s not just farming (seen as backward anyway) and not paying enough, it’s the lure of city glamour that is drawing the youth there.

Today’s rural youth don’t migrate merely in search of jobs; they also migrate in search of a status they think rural life does not offer them. Urban life is projected as success. TV and social media relentlessly glorify consumption, leisure and spectacle. Chic markets, trendy clothes, stylish people are big attractions. For young men, ogling fashionably dressed women holds a particular fascination. Farming, by contrast, is perceived as physically demanding, socially invisible, and economically unrewarding. Simply not “sexy” enough!

This cultural shift has had devastating consequences. Working on one’s own land, tending crops, or managing livestock is now seen by many young people as a lowly activity and a mark of

failure, of non-achievement. The dignity historically associated with farming has been systematically eroded. The pride in being masters of your own land and the idea of caring for the land has been replaced by the desire for the “successful” urban lifestyle.

Young women’s aspirations reflect similar pressures. Rural women have always carried a disproportionate burden as unpaid labour: caring for livestock, collecting fodder, managing households and working in fields. These contributions remain invisible and unvalued. It is thus hardly surprising that many young women see village life as a trap, rather than a life within a community. Marriage increasingly becomes a route out of rural life, not a partnership to strengthen it. At the same time, young men aspire to urban-oriented partners, while rural women seek spouses with salaried jobs and city addresses. This mutual distancing accelerates the hollowing out of villages.

Underlying this is the economic reality of farming. Agriculture no longer provides a reliable or adequate income. Rising input costs, volatile prices, lack of assured markets and weak institutional support have made farming unviable for small and marginal farmers. Governments have spoken endlessly about doubling farmers’ incomes, but that piece of propaganda blew up in no time, making farmers even more cynical about any government support. Apart from politically-motivated slogans, little has been done to make agriculture a remunerative and aspirational profession for the young.

Land ownership patterns add another layer of complexity. In many villages, land remains jointly held by extended families. Fragmentation, disputes, and economic interest make sale or consolidation difficult. Families migrate but retain ownership, leaving land uncultivated.

Terraces collapse, invasive species spread, and fragile hill ecosystems degrade. What begins as social migration becomes ecological decline.

The irony is that the urban economy absorbing this migration is far less stable than it appears. Most rural youth do not enter secure, well-paid employment in the cities. They enter informal jobs with long hours, poor working conditions, and no social security. Housing is expensive, public services are stretched, and social isolation is common. Yet the illusion persists.

The cost of empty villages is far greater than the loss of a population. When villages die, food security weakens, agro-biodiversity erodes and traditional knowledge disappears. India’s resilience has always rested on its rural systems: diverse crops, local food cultures and decentralised livelihoods. Their collapse creates vulnerabilities that cities cannot absorb.

If villages continue to empty out, India will not merely lose people from its countryside. It will lose the foundations of self-reliance in food systems, it will lose ecological balance and social stability. Ghost villages are warnings: and we ignore them at our peril.

Reversing this trend requires more than emotional appeals to return to the land. Farming must be made economically viable, socially respected and institutionally supported. Rural areas need education, healthcare, connectivity and opportunities for value addition, processing and local enterprise. Most important, agriculture must be repositioned as skilled, modern, and dignified work.

Let’s recall perhaps the most far-sighted and inspiring calls to action made by an Indian political leader. Lal Bahadur Shastri, India’s visionary Prime Minister, said in his address to the nation in 1965: “I wish to speak to you tonight about the all-important subject of food production. I consider self-sufficiency in food to be no less important than an impregnable defence system in the preservation of our freedom and independence.”

This was how the “Jai Jawan, Jai Kisan” slogan was born, underlining the critical importance of both the agricultural and the defence systems in maintaining the sovereignty and independence of the country.

Dr Suman Sahai is a scientist trained in genetics and the founder-chairperson of the Gene Campaign, a research and policy organisation working on food and livelihoods