The increase highlights expanding trade ties between Saudi Arabia and one of the world’s largest consumer markets, as Indian buyers increasingly turn to dates not only as a traditional food item but also as a year-round health product and gifting option.

Saudi Arabia’s National Center for Palms and Dates, the government agency responsible for developing the Kingdom’s date sector, said earlier this month that exports to India increased by 25% in 2025 compared with the previous year, helping support the industry’s global expansion strategy.

Indian importers say demand has been particularly strong for Safawi dates, commonly marketed in India as Kalami dates, and for the Sukkari variety, both of which are viewed as premium products.

Tariq Tabrez, owner of Hindustan Foreign Traders and a date importer since 2012, said Saudi products have gained market share because of their combination of quality, shelf life and competitive pricing.

“Saudi dates’ quality and price are both competitive,” Tabrez said, adding that Indian consumers increasingly view Saudi dates as superior to some Iranian varieties that have traditionally dominated the market.

According to traders, consumer behavior has shifted notably over the past five years. Dates are increasingly being purchased as a substitute for conventional sweets and confectionery products, reflecting growing awareness of nutrition and healthier eating habits.

Sukkari dates, widely consumed in Saudi Arabia alongside traditional Arabic coffee and tea, are finding similar uses among Indian consumers who are replacing sugary desserts with date-based alternatives.

Industry participants say the market has broadened beyond seasonal demand patterns. While dates remain closely associated with Ramadan in many Muslim-majority countries, Indian consumption has become more diversified and less dependent on religious occasions.

“People are giving dates as gifts. Compared to five years ago, the demand is much more, and it is not limited to one season,” Tabrez said.

Wholesalers attribute part of the demand surge to changing consumer attitudes following the COVID-19 pandemic. Increased interest in immunity, nutrition and natural food products has contributed to stronger sales across India’s dry-fruit sector.

Vishal Gupta, owner of New Delhi-based Vishal Enterprise, said his company has recorded a roughly 20% increase in demand for Saudi dates since the pandemic period.

“After the coronavirus, people have started to consume more dates. People have become more health conscious,” Gupta said.

Traders said demand spans different communities and regions across India, indicating that dates are increasingly viewed as a mainstream health-focused food product rather than a niche or seasonal purchase.

The trend underscores Saudi Arabia’s efforts to diversify its agricultural exports while benefiting from rising consumer demand in India for natural sweeteners and premium food products.

As Muslims marked Eid Al-Adha, Basharat stood on the Pakistani-administered side of the Neelum River, looking toward the burial site of his elder brother, Raja Liaqat, in the Indian-administered village of Keran. The river forms part of the heavily militarized Line of Control (LoC), the de facto frontier dividing the disputed Himalayan region.

Liaqat died in April, and although his grave is only a short distance away, Basharat said security restrictions and political tensions made it impossible for him to visit.

“Eid is a festival of joy and celebration, but for us it has become a symbol of grief, sorrow and helplessness,” Basharat said.

The story reflects a broader reality for thousands of Kashmiri families separated by one of the world’s most sensitive military boundaries. Since the partition of British India in 1947, India and Pakistan have both claimed Kashmir in full while administering separate portions of the territory.

The 740-kilometer Line of Control cuts through mountains, forests and villages, dividing communities and relatives who often live within sight of one another but are unable to meet.

For decades, residents on both sides of the frontier maintained limited personal connections by gathering along riverbanks and hillsides to exchange greetings and catch glimpses of loved ones. Residents say such informal interactions have become increasingly rare as security measures have tightened.

“This river is visible to everyone today, but in reality it has not only divided two countries — it has torn families apart as well,” said Laiba Raja, a niece of Raja Liaqat.

“On Eid, people visit their loved ones and celebrate with family, but where are we supposed to go?” she added.

The emotional burden of separation has intensified amid deteriorating relations between India and Pakistan. Tensions worsened sharply last year following an attack in Indian-administered Kashmir that killed 26 people, most of them Hindu tourists, triggering the most serious confrontation between the nuclear-armed neighbors in years.

The fallout has further reduced opportunities for cross-border contact, according to residents and refugee representatives.

Uzair Ahmed, who heads a Kashmiri refugee organization in Pakistan-administered Kashmir, said approximately 48,000 refugees currently live in camps and urban areas across Pakistan after leaving their homes over the decades of conflict.

Many continue to hope that political conditions will eventually allow families to reunite, he said.

As dusk settles over Keran, residents can still see homes and fields across the river, a reminder of relatives living just beyond the frontier. Children play near the water while military positions overlook the valley from both sides.

“Our elders passed away waiting for that day,” Ahmed said, referring to the prospect of families embracing again, attending weddings together or paying final respects to loved ones.

“Now a new generation is growing up with the same hope.”

The man, identified by officials as Zeeshan Mir from Muzaffarabad, was intercepted by Indian Army personnel after crossing the de facto border and was subsequently handed over to police for further investigation and legal proceedings.

According to officials familiar with the inquiry, preliminary questioning indicated that Mir had been facing personal and financial difficulties and had reportedly been under pressure from family members to contribute financially to his household. Investigators said he appeared distressed during questioning and claimed to have been struggling with depression.

Officials said Mir had established contact through Snapchat with Irum Bano, a resident of Tulwari village in Uri, and that the two gradually developed a close relationship through online interactions.

Investigators said the connection deepened after they discovered family links to the same border village, with Mir allegedly tracing his ancestral roots to the area where Bano currently resides.

According to officials, Mir shared details of his personal circumstances with Bano and discussed the possibility of building a future in Jammu and Kashmir. Authorities are examining claims that the pair discussed a plan under which Mir would cross the LoC, surrender to security forces and pursue legal avenues to remain in the region after completing any legal process related to his entry.

Officials said Mir allegedly believed he could later seek to reclaim ancestral property and settle in the area permanently.

The plan came to an end shortly after his crossing when Army personnel intercepted him before he could travel further inland.

Following Mir’s detention, authorities also questioned Bano to verify elements of his account. During the interaction, she reportedly appealed for leniency and requested that he not be deported, according to officials familiar with the matter.

Security agencies said they are continuing to verify the claims made by both individuals and are investigating all possible aspects of the case, including whether any external influence, coercion or other factors may have been involved.

In a statement posted on X, the Srinagar-based Chinar Corps confirmed the apprehension and said troops exercised restraint during the operation.

“A POJK intruder has been apprehended, who was intercepted by alert Chinar Warriors while crossing the Line of Control in Uri Sector. The vigilant troops maintained restraint while challenging the intruder and surgically apprehended the individual,” the Army said, adding that he had been handed over to the Jammu and Kashmir Police for legal proceedings.

The incident highlights the enduring social and family ties that continue to link communities divided by the Line of Control. Families in several frontier districts maintain relatives across the divide, and cross-border marriages have historically been common despite decades of political and military tensions between India and Pakistan.

Officials said the investigation remains ongoing and no final conclusions have been reached regarding the circumstances behind Mir’s crossing.

The operative, identified as Mohammed Usman Jatt, also known as “Chinese,” was arrested last month alongside alleged Lashkar militant Abdullah by Srinagar police before the case was transferred to the National Investigation Agency due to what authorities described as its national and international dimensions.

Investigators said Jatt, a resident of Lahore trained by Lashkar-e-Taiba, had infiltrated into Indian territory with instructions to execute attacks and help establish sleeper cells outside Jammu and Kashmir.

During questioning, however, he allegedly said conditions in Kashmir differed significantly from narratives presented during militant training in Pakistan.

According to officials, Jatt said he had struggled with severe hair loss for years, affecting his confidence, and believed advanced hair restoration procedures were available only in Western countries until he learned about such treatment in Srinagar.

Investigators said Jatt was introduced to local contacts, including militants identified as Zargam and Abdullah, while staying in upper areas of Srinagar. Police said information obtained during interrogation helped uncover an alleged network of overground workers operating in Srinagar and northern Kashmir in support of Lashkar activities.

Officials said Jatt told interrogators he met a Srinagar shop owner who had undergone a hair transplant procedure and later persuaded him to arrange similar treatment. He allegedly underwent the procedure at a clinic within the city and occasionally stayed there overnight during recovery.

After the operation, investigators said Jatt traveled with Abdullah by passenger transport to Jammu before boarding a sleeper bus to Punjab en route to Malerkotla, where he reportedly spent time watching Turkish television programs and attempting to learn English.

According to officials, Jatt told interrogators he intended to secure genuine Indian identity documents, including an Aadhaar card, PAN card and eventually a passport, with the aim of leaving India using forged or fraudulently obtained documentation.

Investigators linked his account to another alleged Lashkar operative, Umar, nicknamed “Khargosh,” who authorities say infiltrated India after 2012 and later fled abroad in 2024 using forged travel documents allegedly obtained in Jaipur before eventually reaching a Gulf country through Indonesia.

The case emerged months after Srinagar police dismantled what authorities described as the “Al Falah module” in November 2025, an alleged militant network involving educated professionals accused of supporting extremist activities.

Police alleged one accused in that case, Umer-un Nabi of Al Falah University, drove an explosives-laden vehicle that detonated outside the Red Fort on Nov. 10, killing more than a dozen people, according to investigators.

Every morning before the city fully wakes, Ghulam Rasool boards the Smart City bus from Budgam to Srinagar carrying not just baskets woven from Kashmiri poosh kaani, but decades of labour, memory and quiet resistance.

At 68, his hands move with the certainty of a man who has repeated the same work for nearly six decades. The baskets, stacked carefully beside him, are light in weight but heavy with tradition. Each one is handmade, shaped from poosh kaani, the local reed material long used in Kashmir for household baskets, storage containers and decorative craft.

To most passengers, he is another elderly artisan travelling to sell his goods. But behind the calm expression and gentle smile is the story of a man who has spent his life protecting a craft many have abandoned.

“I was 11 when I started this work,” he says, adjusting the edge of one basket with his fingers. “At that time, I did not know it would become my whole life.

”Rasool lives in Budgam and travels regularly to Srinagar and nearby villages to sell his baskets. He says village customers still value handmade Kashmiri products, especially traditional baskets used for storing vegetables, bread and household items.

“People in villages still love these,” he says. “They know the worth of handmade things. Machine-made items come and go, but handmade work stays in the house for years.”

His destination changes depending on demand. Some days he visits local markets, other days he travels directly to villages where customers know him by name. Many wait for him because they trust the durability of his work and because the baskets carry something more than utility they carry familiarity.

For Rasool, the work does not end with the day’s travel. Most of the labour happens at home, often late into the night.

“I have four daughters,” he says simply. “I work till late night because responsibilities do not sleep.”

His voice carries no complaint, only fact. Supporting a family through traditional handicraft is not easy, especially in a market increasingly dominated by factory-made alternatives that are cheaper and faster to produce.

Yet he continues.

When asked why he chooses the Smart City bus instead of hiring a cab to transport his baskets, he laughs softly, as though the answer should be obvious.

“There is more space here,” he says, pointing toward the aisle where his baskets are placed carefully. “And the fare is less. I cannot afford a cab every day to move from Budgam to Srinagar.”

Public transport has become part of his working life. The bus is not just cheaper; it is practical. It allows him to carry multiple baskets without the burden of high transport costs that would eat into already small profits.

In a city where people often speak of development through roads, buildings and technology, Rasool’s presence on the bus offers another picture of urban life one where survival depends on daily calculation, where every saved rupee matters.

Watching him, it becomes difficult not to think about the invisible labour carried by ordinary men. Their struggle rarely becomes news. It moves quietly through bus stations, roadside tea stalls and village markets, unnoticed because it is so common.

Rasool represents that quiet economy.

When asked if he ever considered leaving this profession for another job, he pauses for the first time. Then he smiles a small, knowing smile that seems older than the conversation itself.

“I am not a follower of colonialism,” he says.

The answer is unexpected.He explains that for him, abandoning traditional handicraft would mean surrendering to the idea that only modern, imported or industrial work has value. It would mean accepting that local skills must disappear to make room for something considered more profitable or more respectable.

“I do not want handicraft to die,” he says. “If we all leave this work, then what will remain of us?”

His words are not political in the formal sense, but they carry the weight of cultural resistance. In Kashmir, where craft is deeply tied to identity from carpets and shawls to woodwork and wicker losing traditional artisans means losing part of collective memory.

Rasool knows the economics are difficult. Younger generations often do not want to continue because the income is uncertain and the work is physically demanding. He does not blame them.

Times have changed, he says, and survival asks different questions now.But he believes some things should not be measured only by profit.

Handicraft, for him, is not nostalgia. It is dignity. It is proof that labour done by hand still matters.

As the bus moves through Srinagar’s roads, passengers step on and off, barely noticing the elderly man beside the baskets. He remains quiet, watching the city pass by, preparing for another day of selling.

There is no grand performance in his struggle. No dramatic speech. Only the discipline of repetition: weaving, travelling, selling, returning, and beginning again.

In a world rushing toward convenience, Ghulam Rasool moves at the speed of patience.

And perhaps that is why his baskets matter.

They are not just containers woven from reeds. They are small acts of preservation, carried from Budgam to Srinagar, from one generation to another, by a man who refuses to let his inheritance disappear.

“I carry baskets,” he says before stepping off the bus, “but really, I carry my father’s work, and his father’s work before him.”

Raja Liaquat Ali Khan, a resident of Keran village in Kupwara district, died of a heart attack on April 26. During his funeral, his brothers and sisters, who have lived across the LoC in Pakistan-occupied Kashmir since 1989, watched from the opposite bank of the 300-foot-wide river, unable to cross and attend in person.

The crossing route, once a short ten-minute walk connecting the two sides, was closed by the Indian government in 2019 after cross-LoC trade and bus services were suspended over security concerns, including allegations of weapons smuggling, narcotics trafficking and fake currency circulation.

A video showing Khan’s siblings waving to the coffin and joining funeral prayers from across the river spread widely on social media, prompting emotional reactions and renewed demands for humanitarian access for divided families.

Ravinder Pandita, president of the All-India Kashmiri Samaj, said many families separated during the militancy of 1989-90 had relied on permit-based crossings introduced during former Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee’s tenure to maintain family ties.

He said those arrangements had remained suspended since 2019 following the Balakot strikes.Local political leaders and residents described the incident as a reminder of the human cost of the Kashmir divide, with many urging authorities to reconsider restrictions for family reunions and funerals.

India is considering offering young Kashmiri militants an escape from a life of violence by temporarily resettling them in more peaceful parts of the country, according to the top military commander in the Kashmir Valley.

Lieutenant General B.S. Raju revealed the plan for a new scheme to offer a way out of militancy during a telephone interview from his headquarters in Srinagar, Kashmir’s main city.

He told Reuters recommendations had been submitted to Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s government and that the plan, while not finalised, was in an advanced stage.

“These are young boys who need to be taken care of for a period of time,” Raju said, adding that could involve temporarily settling them outside of Muslim-majority Kashmir.

Past efforts to persuade fighters to put down their guns have had mixed success. But Raju said the military had recommended the scheme take a longer-term approach to rehabilitating ex-militants.

“The bottom-line is that it will have a structure that will help and give confidence to the people who are opting to surrender,” Raju said.

More than 50,000 people have died during more than three decades of an insurgency that New Delhi accuses neighbouring Pakistan of fuelling, by using militant groups to wage a proxy-war across the disputed border dividing the Himalayan region.

India has flooded the valley with security forces – about 200,000 military and paramilitary troops are deployed there. And Raju said militant attacks have dropped by nearly 40% compared to last year.

Around 180 active

Last August, Prime Minister Modi changed the political landscape by taking away Jammu & Kashmir’s status as India’s only Muslim majority state, splitting it into two federally-controlled territories and removing the special privileges afforded to Kashmiris.

Promising a concerted effort to develop the region economically, Modi said the move was need to integrate Kashmir more fully with the rest of the country, but critics said it would further alienate Kashmiris.

Pakistan, which maintains a long-standing territorial claim on Kashmir though it denies accusations that it materially helps the militants, has denounced Modi’s action.

Since the start of the year, Indian security forces have killed around 135 militants, most of them recruited locally.

The military estimates that there are currently around 180 militants operating with various groups active in the valley, Raju said. Some 70 local Kashmiris are reckoned to have been recruited by these groups since the start of the year, about a dozen less than during the same period a year ago.

“We wish that this should drop further, and finally cease altogether,” Raju said.

Currently most surrenders are conducted in line with a 2004 policy that provides a lump sum payout of 150,000 Indian rupees ($2,000), a small monthly stipend, free vocational training and cash payments for weapons handed over.

The New Delhi-based South Asia Terrorism Portal estimated that more than 400 insurgents have surrendered since 2004, but after 2007 the numbers came down to a trickle, with only two dozen men giving up arms in the last three years.

Kuldeep Khoda, a former Kashmir police chief, said the scheme had partly failed because the vocational training provided by the government was inadequate.

“If you ask me very frankly, there was hardly any training being given. They were just kept there for a few months,” he said. “It was just a formality which was being completed.”