Sania Zehra 
Magazine

The bee queen of Kashmir

A 23-year-old woman from Srinagar turned loss into a thriving honey enterprise—and a rallying point for women entrepreneurs

Irshad Hussain

On crisp autumn mornings in the saffron fields of Lethpora in Pulwama, wooden bee boxes sit in rows among the purple blossoms. If you stand still long enough, a humming sound comes to you—a restless, busy orchestra. In the middle of it all is 23-year-old Sania Zehra, carefully checking the hives that have earned her an unusual title in Kashmir: the Bee Queen. Zehra, who grew up in Srinagar’s Balhama locality, never imagined that she would one day run hundreds of bee colonies. The turning point came in 2020 when disaster struck the family enterprise run by her father. With the national highway closed, 150 of their bee colonies—worth Rs 9 lakh—died. Only about 20 colonies survived. Instead of walking away from the struggling trade, Zehra decided to rebuild it. Today, she manages around 600 colonies and produces an average of six quintals of high-quality honey each year. “Beekeeping is our family’s industry, and I decided to follow in my ancestors’ footsteps,” she says.

Working as a woman in Kashmir means walking a double-edged sword, as people discourage you rather than giving you encouragement.
Sania Zehra, beekeper

Before bees entered her life, Zehra had spent three years training in martial arts. The transition from martial arts practice to managing buzzing hives came abruptly, but she embraced it with determination. The location of her bee farm also attracts tourists, which turned into an unexpected business opportunity. “I mostly target tourist routes,” Sania says. Yet success in beekeeping in Kashmir is never simple. Zehra points to the rapid disappearance of acacia trees—one of the most vital nectar sources for bees. These hardy trees sustain colonies during dry seasons and produce prized acacia honey, known for its pale colour and delicate flavour. Their decline has forced many beekeepers to migrate seasonally with their colonies. “Beekeepers move to Rajasthan, Punjab, Sonamarg, and Doodhpathri,” she explains.

Then there is the proliferation of fake products. Without facilities to check the quality of honey, identifying fake honey becomes harder. Zehra has been creating awareness about the issue and has taken the campaign online, using her social media platforms to expose counterfeit honey brands. Her journey, however, has not been free of criticism. “Working as a woman in Kashmir means walking a double-edged sword, as people discourage you rather than giving you encouragement.” But she is not giving up yet. Under the brand Kashmir Pure Organics, she now produces organic cosmetics including face creams, soaps and hair oils derived from honey and other natural ingredients. “I travelled with my father to different regions and jungles of India, where I was repeatedly stung by bees,” she says. The stings, it turns out, were only part of the apprenticeship. The buzzing kingdom she oversees today is proof that persistence can turn even a struggling hive into something thriving—and sweet.

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