In a divided subcontinent, this grain still carries the aroma of a common past and perhaps a solution to a common future.

Sridhar Radhakrishnan.

IN the Asian subcontinent long haunted by the Partition, there are still boundless life forms that resist division. Basmati rice, with its lingering fragrance and centuries-old legacy, is one such wonder. But even this gift of nature — a symbol of shared culture and ecology — is now caught in a territorial battle of sorts. The ongoing Geographical Indication (GI) conflict between India and Pakistan over Basmati is not simply another trade dispute; it is a deeply disturbing one – one that turns even the most sacred gifts of nature and culture — seeds, rice, fragrance and memory — into commodities and property rights caught in legal tangles in the age of globalised commerce.

The conflict between India and Pakistan over the GI tag for Basmati is not just a story of trading rice. It is about how we treat the commons that connect us — whether we see them as treasures to be shared or trophies to be owned.

Basmati grows in the monsoon-soaked lands of the Indo-Gangetic plains, Himalayan sub-terai zones and upper Indus river basin. These ecosystems, along with generations of farmers who never enquired about ownership, quietly nurtured it to its current splendour. In Lahore and Lucknow alike, the scent of boiling Basmati evokes a common nostalgia — one that speaks of centuries of culture and care, none of which recognises political boundaries. To claim it as belonging to one nation or one state is to overlook the very soul of this grain.

Geographical indications are intellectual property rights (IPRs) used to protect products intrinsically linked to specific regions. In India, this is governed by the GI of Goods (Registration and Protection) Act, 1999. GIs safeguard iconic products like Darjeeling tea, Kanchipuram silk and Kashmir saffron. For Basmati, the GI tag provides market exclusivity and legal protection but it has also fuelled an ownership battle in global markets.

In 2016, India secured a GI for Basmati through its domestic law and applied for Protected GI status in the European Union (EU) in 2018. Pakistan opposed this in 2020, asserting that Basmati is equally part of its cultural and agrarian heritage, cultivated in Punjab and Sindh. It granted Basmati GI recognition domestically in 2021, strengthening its claim.

Interestingly, in 2008, both countries were close to submitting a joint application to the EU, identifying 14 districts in Pakistan and seven states in India as traditional Basmati-growing regions. But the 2008 Mumbai attacks derailed this rare attempt at cooperation. Since then, rivalry has replaced dialogue.

The EU has urged both nations to negotiate. But as free trade agreements loom, each side digs in. Australia and New Zealand rejected India’s exclusive GI claim, noting that both nations grow Basmati. Nepal also raised objections, citing its own history of aromatic rice cultivation. Meanwhile, legal battles continue, such as in Australia, where India is appealing a ruling that went against its exclusivity claim.

Back home, Madhya Pradesh has sought inclusion in India’s GI list, claiming 13 districts cultivate aromatic rice akin to Basmati. India’s GI Registry rejected this in 2020, stating the region lacked historical cultivation and inclusion could weaken international claims. The case remains unresolved after being referred to the Madras High Court.

Pakistan, meanwhile, expanded its GI claim from 14 to 44 districts — some well beyond traditional Basmati zones. This move for EU acceptance, however, undermines the essence of GI protection: geographical authenticity.

At the heart of this battle lies the TRIPS Agreement (Trade-Related Aspects of Intellectual Property Rights), a WTO mandate requiring member countries to offer IPR protection for plant varieties. This agreement paved the way for seeds nurtured over generations to be treated as property — owned, licensed and litigated — raising concerns over farmer rights and biodiversity.

Now, enter UPOV — the International Union for the Protection of New Varieties of Plants. Of its versions, UPOV 1978 allows limited farmers’ rights while the 1991 revision is more restrictive: it criminalises seed-sharing and grants monopolistic control to breeders, mostly corporations.

India resisted UPOV membership, instead enacting the Protection of Plant Varieties and Farmers’ Rights (PPVFR) Act, 2001. It balances breeders’ rights and farmers’ freedoms. But even this model faces pressure from trade agreements and corporate lobbies.

Pakistan is a member of UPOV 1978 and, like others, faces pressure to adopt the 1991 regime. But this is not modernisation. It is dispossession dressed up as development. The commodification of seeds and national demands for exclusivity reflect a dangerous trend: the enclosure of life. Seeds are not human inventions — they are products of ecosystems, weathered by time and cared for by communities. Even lab-developed seeds exist only because of open-source heritage seeds. Enclosing them criminalises tradition and puts a legal wall around lifeforms that would otherwise thrive freely.

Who owns Basmati or any seed? Not corporations. Not bureaucrats or nations. The generations of farmers, who preserved its ecosystems and passed along its traits like folklore, are its true custodians.

There was a time when India and Pakistan teamed up on Basmati. In 1997, Texas-based RiceTec received a US patent for ‘Texmati’, claiming to have developed a superior version of Basmati. This sparked a rare alliance: India compiled DNA and historical evidence to contest the patent, with Pakistan supporting the challenge. Eventually, RiceTec lost the right to use ‘Basmati’.

It was a landmark victory, reasserting that Basmati is a regional heritage of the subcontinent. That collaboration showed how nations can unite around a shared legacy. But camaraderie has given way to rivalry. Yet, a simple solution remains — a joint GI sovereign shared between India and Pakistan and even Nepal sovereign is both possible and practical. Examples exist: the GI for Gruyère cheese is held by Switzerland and France. Even complex disputes like that over Pisco between Peru and Chile have found coexistence through differentiated designations in the EU.

Instead of litigating over Basmati in Brussels, India and Pakistan could propose a joint Protected GI. Like in 2008, they could agree on defined zones and cultivation standards and submit a joint claim. This would benefit both and reaffirm their common legacy.

Moreover, both countries have faced EU rejections of Basmati exports due to pesticide residues. From 2020 to 2024, such incidents rose sharply. Joint custodianship requires a united response — safer agro-ecological production, stricter testing and export surveillance — to protect reputations in global markets.

This is a moment to reclaim the commons. Remember, it was farmers, not lawyers, who created Basmati. Rivers, rains and soil, not trade tribunals, nurtured its fragrance. Let Basmati be a turning point where we say: no more. No more using seeds as weapons. No more courts deciding what culture is. Let us return to the wisdom of those who grew this rice not for profit, but for posterity.

Published Date: April 17, 2025