Long before the India Meteorological Department (IMD) issued its first forecast, farmers across India had developed their own ways of reading the skies.
These were not scattered folk beliefs or isolated traditions. In many regions, communities followed carefully observed systems that were refined over generations, recorded in texts, and passed down with remarkable consistency.
Today, as erratic monsoons continue to affect sowing seasons across the country, scientists and researchers are revisiting some of these traditional forecasting methods to understand the observations behind them and what they might still offer.
The Panchang and India’s early astronomers
Some of India’s oldest rain-prediction practices were closely linked to astronomy.
The Vedanga Jyotisha, one of the earliest known Indian texts on astronomy and timekeeping, laid the foundations for the Panchang — the Hindu almanac that is still consulted in many parts of the country today. By tracking the movements of the sun, moon, and stars, it helped communities anticipate seasonal changes, including rainfall patterns.
Centuries later, astronomer and scholar Varahamihira expanded these ideas further.
In his work Brihat Samhita, written in the 6th century CE, he described links between rainfall, celestial events, and atmospheric conditions. Some researchers believe that parts of these observations resemble concepts found in modern meteorology.
In many villages, a Gram Joshi or village astrologer would read out annual rainfall and crop predictions during the Hindu New Year. These forecasts, based on calculations preserved through generations, often helped farmers plan the agricultural season ahead.
A ritual with a tumbler and a basket
Over time, farmers built local forecasting methods alongside these astronomical traditions.
In Andhra Pradesh’s Tatta Sanketam ritual, a child balances a tumbler atop a basket of grain — the direction it falls, read against planetary positions, forecasts the season’s rains. Photograph: (qaqooking.wiki)
One such practice from Andhra Pradesh, known as Tatta Sanketam, involved placing a tumbler on top of a basket filled with grain while a child balanced it carefully. The direction in which the tumbler eventually fell, interpreted alongside planetary positions, was believed to indicate the nature of the coming monsoon.
Dr K Ravi Shankar, a senior agricultural scientist who spent three years documenting traditional forecasting practices in villages across Andhra Pradesh, found that farmers relied on a surprisingly wide range of signals before deciding when to sow.
His research recorded 24 biological indicators and 42 non-biological indicators — 66 in total. Farmers rarely depended on a single sign. Instead, they compared several observations before making decisions that could determine an entire season’s harvest.
Among the non-biological indicators, many households watched how quickly stored salt or jaggery became damp or sticky. Faster changes were often interpreted as signs of rising humidity and approaching rain.
The farmer’s own weather station
For generations, farmers learned to read the changes happening around their homes and fields.
Goats flapping their ears more frequently, owls calling persistently through the night, and red hairy caterpillars moving rapidly towards shelter were all considered signs that rain might be near.
Scientists later found that many insects can detect changes in humidity through their antennae long before humans can sense them, which may explain why such observations often appeared reliable.
Even the kitchen fire became part of the forecast.
A weaver bird’s nest, built high above the water — farmers read the height of these nests as a sign of a season with generous rainfall ahead. Photograph: (Pexels)
Smoke from evening cooking that stayed low instead of rising freely was seen as a sign of increasing moisture in the air. Bees returning early to their hives and spiders hurriedly repairing their webs were treated as further warnings of changing weather.
Plants, too, were believed to hold clues.
In some villages in Andhra Pradesh, community elders examined the seed pods of the Flame of the Forest tree, known for its striking orange flowers and found across India under different local names.
The pods contain seeds at the bottom, middle, and top. According to local belief, whichever seed appeared most developed indicated when the heaviest rainfall would arrive during the season.
A larger seed at the bottom suggested strong rains at the beginning of the monsoon. A fuller middle seed pointed to heavier rainfall midway through the season, while a larger top seed indicated stronger rains towards the end. If all three developed evenly, farmers expected a more balanced monsoon.
Why does this knowledge still matter
What made many of these traditions remarkable was not simply the observations themselves, but the way they were used.
Farmers rarely relied on one signal in isolation. Instead, they cross-checked multiple indicators before deciding when to sow, treating farming decisions with the caution and discipline that uncertainty demanded.
That approach feels particularly relevant today.
The seed pod of the Flame of the Forest tree: whichever seed grows largest, at the pod’s bottom, middle or top, tells farmers when the heaviest rains of the season will fall. Photograph: (Pinterest)
India’s monsoon is becoming increasingly difficult to predict using historical patterns alone. Even as newer technologies, including AI-based forecasting tools, begin helping millions of farmers prepare for the season ahead, uncertainty remains a defining feature of Indian agriculture.
Long before the phrase existed, many farming communities were practising a form of citizen science — building knowledge through repeated observation, testing patterns over time, and passing those lessons from one generation to the next.
Their methods did not rely on satellites, supercomputers, or smartphone apps.
Yet they were built on something equally valuable: paying close attention to the world around them, comparing observations carefully, and understanding that a good forecast depends as much on local knowledge as it does on technology.
