Kunri—a name that once evoked images of fiery, crimson chilies, dried under the relentless Thar sun, has become the forgotten promise of Sindh. This town, nestled in the Tharparkar Desert, was to host Asia’s largest chili market. But today, a decade after its foundation was laid, what was meant to be the heartbeat of Kunri’s economy lies abandoned, reduced to a derelict cattle shed. This incomplete project is no longer a symbol of prosperity; it’s a harsh reminder of broken promises and unfulfilled dreams.
A Decade of Silence and Rot
It’s been ten long years since the Sindh government initiated this project with a vision: to transform Kunri into a central hub for chili trade in Asia. On 22 acres of promising land along Board Farm Road, they planned an ambitious market—a massive complex with 300 shops, warehouses, a mosque, hotels, an auction ground, modern lighting, and an underground water tank. But today, these grand designs exist only on paper. The reality? Abandoned construction materials lie exposed, slowly rotting under the sun, while the once-promising site is now an animal shelter. It’s a painful sight for the locals, a constant reminder of what could have been.
The project’s very foundation is a tale of mismanagement. Years ago, a contractor, entrusted with millions in public funds, simply disappeared. His exit brought construction to a grinding halt, leaving the structure in limbo, wrapped in red tape and mystery. What’s left is a market overtaken by bushes and dirt—an architectural skeleton, stripped of hope, purpose, and any sign of progress. The shame of this negligence looms over Kunri’s chili farmers and traders, who had dared to hope for a better future.
Cries for Action: Voices of Kunri
The cries of Kunri’s people are loud and growing louder, pleading for intervention. Eminent political and social figures, alongside concerned citizens, have raised their voices, demanding action from the government. This isn’t merely a request; it’s a cry for justice. The people of Kunri deserve more than abandoned promises and bureaucratic neglect. They need—and deserve—a thriving market to support their livelihoods and secure the future of their families.
Yet, even amidst this glaring crisis, the chili farmers continue their grueling work, bearing the weight of unrealized promises. For women like Shad Bibi, who spends long hours picking chilies in fields without protective gear, each day brings new hazards. Her hands, dusted in fiery pepper, sting with every touch; her young children suffer the same. Skin rashes, respiratory issues, eye irritations—these are the invisible scars that chili farmers endure to bring their produce to market.
A Town Suffocating in Its Own Success
Kunri’s chili market, known locally as Mirch Mandi, is the town’s lifeblood, but it’s also become a symbol of suffocating hardship. As massive quantities of chili peppers dry under the sun, the air fills with their powerful aroma, a pungent scent that blankets the entire city. At the height of the season, this overpowering scent can make the air thick, stinging the eyes and making breathing difficult. For shopkeepers and residents nearby, daily life becomes a battle for clean air.
And what about Kunri’s impact on Pakistan’s economy? Kunri produces nearly 85% of Pakistan’s total red chili output, contributing significantly to the national GDP. Yet, this economic powerhouse has been neglected, abandoned by those who once promised progress and prosperity.
A Final Call for Change
Kunri deserves more than empty promises. The chili market was more than just a business hub; it was a promise of hope, a potential legacy for generations to come. As each day passes, the cost of inaction grows. The materials degrade, the building decays, and the people suffer. How long must they wait? How many more voices will it take for the authorities to hear and act?
It’s time to turn words into actions. The government must address this failure, complete the market, and honor its commitments to Kunri’s people. For too long, Kunri has been ignored, its dreams dashed. The people of Kunri deserve better—they deserve their market, their future, and a chance to thrive
