Balochistan Farmer's Gamble: Rising Fuel Costs Challenge Watermelon Crop Survival

In the sweltering heat of Dasht, a remote village in Balochistan, Karim Baksh kneels in the mud, his hands guiding a thin stream of water toward rows of watermelons ripening under the sun. The air is thick, the kind that clings to skin and saps energy, but Baksh moves with purpose. For years, his livelihood hinged on a diesel-powered pump, a lifeline that drew water from the earth to sustain his crops. Then came 2022, when Russia's invasion of Ukraine sent fuel prices skyrocketing, turning a once-reliable tool into a financial burden. "It became impossible for me to run the pump on diesel daily," he recalls, his voice tinged with the weight of hardship. Crops withered, fields lay fallow, and the specter of poverty loomed. But in 2023, Baksh made a gamble: he borrowed 300,000 Pakistani rupees from relatives and installed solar panels next to his field. Three years later, the gamble is paying off. Under the relentless sun, his pump hums without a drop of diesel, and his watermelons thrive. "Now, I don't care if the prices of diesel increase," he says, eyes fixed on the horizon. "As long as there is this sun, I can grow my watermelons."

The story of Dasht is not just about resilience but about a broader transformation unfolding across Pakistan. As the US-Israel war on Iran escalates and the Strait of Hormuz—through which 20 percent of global oil and gas flows—threatens to close, the world braces for chaos. Energy prices are expected to soar, and Pakistan, with 80 percent of its oil imports funneled through Hormuz and 99 percent of its LNG sourced from Qatar and the UAE, stands on a precipice. A recent Council on Foreign Relations report warns that if the strait remains closed, Pakistan could face severe energy strain, with power outages, factory shutdowns, and disrupted public services looming. Yet, amid this vulnerability, a quiet revolution is taking root. On rooftops and farmlands, solar panels are reshaping energy production, offering a shield against the crisis.

This shift is not the result of a single national plan but a grassroots movement. Farmers like Baksh, businesses, and households have driven the change, opting for solar to escape the volatility of fossil fuels. A study by Renewables First and the Centre for Research on Energy and Clean Air highlights the impact: since 2018, Pakistan's rooftop solar boom has saved over $12 billion in fuel imports. At current market prices, the savings could reach $6.3 billion this year alone. The data is staggering. According to EMBER, a think tank, Pakistan's solar share in the energy mix has jumped from 2.9 percent in 2020 to 32.3 percent in 2025. Rabia Babar, an energy data manager at Renewables First, emphasizes that this shift was not orchestrated by policymakers but by millions of individuals. "Pakistan's solar revolution wasn't planned in Islamabad—it was built on rooftops," she says. "As tensions around the Strait of Hormuz remain high, those panels are proving to be one of the country's most effective energy security strategies."

In cities like Lahore and Karachi, the transition is evident. Rooftop solar panels dot the skyline, a testament to the growing demand for reliable power. For middle-class families, the decision to adopt solar is both economic and practical. Installation costs, once daunting, are increasingly recouped within a few years, making the shift not just a choice but a necessity. The benefits ripple outward: reduced oil imports, lower energy bills, and a buffer against global disruptions. Yet, the transformation is not without challenges. Limited storage capacity and uneven distribution of solar infrastructure leave some regions still dependent on traditional energy sources. But for every farmer like Baksh, the sun offers hope. In Dasht, where the heat is relentless and the stakes are high, the solar panels are more than a technological fix—they are a lifeline, a promise that even in the face of global crises, the future can be shaped by those who dare to act.

The electricity generated by solar panels in Pakistan is a source of both opportunity and controversy. For those who can afford the initial investment, the benefits are clear: households with solar systems enjoy free electricity during the day, and surplus power can be fed back into the national grid, earning them credits that offset their energy costs at night or during cloudy periods. According to the Gallup Pakistan Survey from 2023, about 15%—roughly 4 million—of households already used solar panels in some form. By 2025, this number had grown significantly, with a Pakistan Bureau of Statistics survey revealing that 25% of households now rely on solar power. Of these, over 280,000 have adopted net-metering, a policy allowing excess electricity to be returned to the grid for credits. Yet analysts warn that this progress is unevenly distributed, with wealthier classes reaping most of the rewards.

The upfront cost of installing solar systems remains a major barrier for many. Prices range from several hundred thousand to over a million rupees, depending on system size and whether batteries are included. For lower-income households, this is an insurmountable hurdle. Meanwhile, commercial and industrial users have embraced solar power as a way to hedge against power outages and reduce operational costs. Export-oriented industries, in particular, benefit from lower energy expenses, which enhance their competitiveness in global markets. In rural areas, where electricity supply is unreliable, solar power has become a lifeline for families, especially in regions like Balochistan and Punjab where farmers use solar-powered tube wells for irrigation. These systems provide consistent water access without the volatility of diesel prices. However, urban and rural poor remain at risk of being excluded from these benefits, deepening existing inequalities.

The financial implications of net-metering have sparked debate among energy experts. Solar users who rely on grid electricity during nighttime or cloudy days avoid paying fixed costs tied to the national power system, such as transmission and distribution fees. This creates a hidden subsidy burden for non-solar consumers, many of whom are low-income households. Reports indicate that net-metering has already shifted 159 billion rupees ($570 million) in costs onto grid users, a figure expected to rise sharply as solar adoption expands. Critics argue this is creating a two-tier energy system: one for those who can afford solar technology and another for the rest of the population, who end up subsidizing the infrastructure used by solar consumers.

China's role in Pakistan's solar boom cannot be overlooked. The country dominates the global solar supply chain, controlling 80% of production, including wafers, cells, and panels. Chinese lithium-ion batteries, which store solar energy for nighttime use, are also flooding the market. Falling prices for these components have made solar systems more accessible, even as Pakistan grapples with electricity shortages, rising tariffs, and the economic fallout from the Russia-Ukraine war. In 2018, solar imports from China totaled below 1 gigawatt, but by early 2026, this had surged to 51 gigawatts, making Pakistan one of the fastest-growing solar markets globally. An anonymous electrical engineer at the University of Turbat noted that "Pakistan's solar boom isn't the story of Pakistan. It is also a China story," highlighting how cheap Chinese panels are reshaping renewable energy landscapes in developing nations.

The price of solar panels has plummeted over the past decade, driven by mass production and global competition. In the early 2010s, panels cost between 100 to 120 rupees ($0.35–$0.42) per watt, but today they are available for about 30 rupees ($0.10) per watt. A typical 3-kilowatt home system now costs around 450,000 rupees ($1,610), while larger commercial setups can reach up to 2.2 million rupees ($7,874). This decline coincided with Pakistan's energy crisis, making solar an attractive alternative for those who could afford the upfront investment. Yet as adoption grows, so does the tension between economic opportunity and systemic inequity, raising urgent questions about how to ensure that the benefits of renewable energy are shared more broadly.

The price of lithium-ion batteries, particularly those manufactured in China, has plummeted in recent months, creating a ripple effect across global energy markets. According to the International Energy Agency, prices dropped by 20 percent in 2024 alone, making it cheaper for households to install battery systems that store electricity for nighttime use. This shift is helping families reduce their reliance on unstable grid power, especially in regions where outages are common. Yet, as a University of Turbat engineer noted, Pakistan's pursuit of energy independence through solar power has led to a paradox. While the country is cutting its dependence on imported fuel, it risks falling into a new kind of dependency—this time on foreign technology.

Pakistan's government has long oscillated between supporting and undermining solar energy initiatives. In 2015, it introduced a net-metering policy that allowed households to sell excess electricity back to the grid at 25 rupees ($0.09) per unit. This policy, combined with tax cuts on solar panel imports, spurred rapid growth in the solar market. Farmers and small businesses saw opportunities to generate income while reducing energy costs. But as solar installations expanded, concerns over financial strain on the power sector emerged. In a recent policy shift, the government slashed the buyback rate for new net-metering users to 10 rupees ($0.036) per unit, a move that has dampened enthusiasm among potential adopters.

For farmers like Baksh in Dasht, the fluctuating policies have created uncertainty. He loads watermelons onto trucks, preparing for transport to nearby markets in Turbat and Gwadar. Fuel prices, which he can't control, affect his transportation costs. Yet, one aspect of his work remains steady: the solar panels he installed. Despite the government's recent changes, Baksh remains optimistic. He plans to expand his solar setup, grow more watermelons, and send them to larger markets in Quetta and Karachi. "The water keeps flowing no matter what," he says, a quiet defiance against the unpredictability of energy markets.

The irony of Pakistan's energy strategy is stark. As battery prices fall, the country has the tools to build a resilient, decentralized power system. But without local manufacturing of solar panels or batteries, it remains reliant on imports. This dependency mirrors its past reliance on oil and gas, but with a new twist: instead of foreign fuel, it now depends on foreign technology. The government's inconsistent policies have only deepened this vulnerability, leaving solar advocates and ordinary citizens caught in a tug-of-war between innovation and bureaucracy.

Innovation, however, is not dead. The drop in battery prices has made energy storage more accessible, even if the political landscape remains unstable. For farmers like Baksh, solar power offers a lifeline—a way to insulate themselves from the volatility of fuel markets and government decisions. Yet, as the University of Turbat engineer warned, without a strategic push toward domestic manufacturing, Pakistan's energy future may be no less precarious than its past. The question now is whether policymakers will act before the window of opportunity closes.