PESHAWAR, Pakistan: In the dusty, remote villages of Peshawar’s newly-formed Badaber subdivision—where deep-rooted family feuds still shape daily life—a quiet but colourful revolution is bursting into life.
Villages like Bazidkhel, Sheikh Muhammadi, Kaga Wala, Akhoon Salak Baba and Mashokhel—once known for tribal conflicts and generational enmity—have transformed into vibrant centres of the flower trade in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP).
Today, these communities, once defined by suspicion and violence, are exporting thousands of kilograms of fragrant, delicate blooms to markets across the province.
For residents and observers alike, the thriving flower business is not just a source of income, it is a symbol of transformation and hope.
Dr. Muhammad Izhar Khan—a local leader of the Pashtun nationalist party, Awami National Party—observes, “Indeed, flowers are a sign of love and peace, but for the people here, it is primarily a business. It would be better if they also understood the symbolic meaning behind the flowers they grow.”
He points out that despite being part of the provincial capital, these areas lag far behind in education as compared to the rest of Peshawar.
This is why, although people love flowers, they don’t always grasp their deeper significance.
A violent past
In 2019, the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa government declared Badaber a subdivision of Peshawar.
These villages, located near Bara (Khyber district), were once hotbeds of unrest where kidnapping for ransom and extortion were common. Many locals have been involved in armed encounters with banned groups.
In these areas, if a stranger enters without being accompanied by a local, especially after sunset, they are viewed with deep suspicion. Some family feuds have lasted for generations and claimed many lives.” — Inamullah Khan, a resident of Bazidkhel.
“In these areas, if a stranger enters without being accompanied by a local, especially after sunset, they are viewed with deep suspicion,” notes Inamullah Khan, a resident of Bazidkhel. “Some family feuds have lasted for generations and claimed many lives.”
Yet every spring, these hardened lands come alive with colour, softening into beauty every spring.
“When the flowers bloom, the whole village transforms. Orchards burst into red, white, yellow, brown, and pink. It’s almost surreal—like the land is trying to forget its painful past,” Inamullah Khan adds.
This seasonal beauty is more than soothing to the eye—it is the bread and butter of the local economy.
More than 3,000 men and women are engaged in flower cultivation, harvesting, decoration, and transport in these villages. Together, they manage over 500 orchards that produce a variety of blooms year-round.
Roots of change
The roots of this transformation go back nearly five decades to visionary farmer Haji Abdullah Jan, who returned from abroad with insights into the floriculture industry.
He introduced flower cultivation in Bazidkhel at a time when locals only grew wheat and vegetables.
“This land was once barren or used for subsistence farming,” recalls Muhammad Ayaz Khan, a 55-year-old flower farmer and an elder in Bazidkhel.
“Inspired by Abdullah Jan, I started planting flowers too. Now, his grandchildren are continuing the work he began.”
Listing floral varieties known by their traditional Pashto names, Ayaz Khan said: “We grow Gulcheen (white plumeria), Hamsha Gulab (marigold), Moray Gul (hibiscus), Gandray Gul (tagetes), Gulree (pink rose), Shaboo (tuberose), Genda (marigold), and Chamba (plumeria). These names may not mean much to outsiders, but for us, they are full of heritage. Each flower has its own story.”
We grow Gulcheen (white plumeria), Hamsha Gulab (marigold), Moray Gul (hibiscus), Gandray Gul (tagetes), Gulree (pink rose), Shaboo (tuberose), Genda (marigold), and Chamba (plumeria). These names may not mean much to outsiders, but for us, they are full of heritage. Each flower has its own story.” – Muhammad Ayaz Khan, a local farmer.
Flower cultivation is labour-intensive and demands precision. “We water the plants weekly, apply urea fertiliser, and use organic sprays to protect them from pests and diseases. Early in the morning, we cut the flowers and sort them for the market,” Ayaz explains.
Family, flowers and livelihood
The process is often family-based. While men handle cultivation and transportation, women are critical in post-harvest processing, making amails (garlands), and other decorative items.
“A skilled woman can earn between Rs 500 to Rs 1,000 a day, depending on the work,” he estimates.
Zafar Ali Khan, 70, a flower grower with over 30 years of experience, describes his routine: “At sunrise, we cut flowers and bring them home. Women string them into garlands, 10 flowers per string. We pay Rs 15 to Rs 20 per garland. It’s hard work, but it puts food on the table.”
Finished garlands are transported via local taxis and rickshaws to Peshawar’s Ramdas Bazaar, the province’s largest wholesale flower market. Transporters charge around Rs 1,000 per trip, providing employment to local drivers.
“I grow flowers on one acre of land and earn about Rs 100,000 to Rs 150,000 per season—twice a year,” Zafar Ali Khan says. “Each spring, we prune and replant. New plants produce bigger and more flowers.”
He notes that the increasing value of flowers has driven up land prices, prompting more farmers to shift to floriculture.
At Ramdas Bazaar, over 50 flower shops operate daily, each buying 10–20 kilograms of fresh flowers from rural vendors.
Hasnain Muhammad, a shopkeeper with a decade of experience, says their business has flourished.
Yes, our villages have seen bloodshed. Some families lost 10 or even 20 members over decades of feuds. “But now, when people visit in spring to see our flowers and enjoy the fragrance, it gives us pride—and a reason to move forward.” – Hamza Khan, a student and the flower trader.
“Depending on quality, we buy flowers for Rs 1,000 to Rs 2,000 per kilogram. We make garlands for weddings, decorate vehicles and homes, and supply for religious events like Hajj, Umrah, and Eid,” he continues.
Dealers resell the flowers in Qissa Khwani, Saddar, Tehkal Payan, Kabotar Chowk, Hayatabad and Board Bazaar in Peshawar.
Beyond aesthetics, the flowers are used for medicinal and ceremonial purposes. Traditional healers use petals to make arq-e-gulab (rose water) and gulkand (a digestive preserve). Flowers are also sold at schools, graveyards, and roadside stalls across the city.
The expanding trade has become a vital lifeline for many, sustaining local economies by supporting growers, decorators, transporters, and vendors in a local supply chain that has reshaped once-troubled communities.
Petals and potential
Despite the boom, farmers and traders feel neglected by the provincial government. “If the government recognised this industry and gave us support, we can grow even more,” urges Hasnain Muhammad.
“We need cold storage, packaging facilities, agricultural training, and financial support for local farmers. Right now, everything is based on individual effort,” he adds.
He believes Khyber Pakhtunkhwa’s floriculture industry could not only meet national demand but also compete internationally with proper government support.
“Yes, our villages have seen bloodshed. Some families lost 10 or even 20 members over decades of feuds,” says Hamza Khan, a second-year student from Bazidkhel involved in the flower trade.
“But now, when people visit in spring to see our flowers and enjoy the fragrance, it gives us pride—and a reason to move forward.”
Hamza adds that many young people are now involved in the trade with their families. “The youth are modernising the business by bringing in new flower varieties from other regions,” he tells WE News English.
“In Pakistan, especially in our province where unemployment is high, a business like this is a ray of hope for our people.”
