

The article looks at 'Two Bandra Girls Buy a Farm,' a non-fiction book by Arti Dwarkadas that documents her journey of starting an organic farm in rural Maharashtra with her friend Suzann. It focuses on the shift from urban life in Bandra to navigating land ownership, farming logistics and rural systems with no prior experience. Through humour and on-ground detail, the book explores themes of trial-and-error, community support, labour and the realities of building and sustaining a farm over time.
A road so broken it could swallow a car whole wasn’t part of the plan — but then again, neither was farming. Somewhere along NH66, staring at a crater filled with monsoon water while a line of stranded drivers debated whether to risk crossing, Arti Dwarkadas and her friend Suzann realised exactly what they had signed up for. That collapsing stretch of highway, equal parts comedy and endurance test, sits at the centre of Two Bandra Girls Buy a Farm: Chaos, Community And Crops In Rural Maharashtra, a detailed and often very funny account of two Mumbai women who decide to buy farmland in Raigad with no prior experience and figure everything out as they go.
Written by Arti Dwarkadas, who has worked in advertising with Rediff.com and later OgilvyInteractive India, the non-fiction book draws from her own move from city professional to first-time farmer. In 2021, she and her friend Suzann set up Two Bandra Girls Organic Farm in rural Maharashtra, building it into a ten-acre organic farm growing fruits and vegetables. Two Bandra Girls Buy a Farm is her debut book, shaped by that on-ground experience and her long engagement with food, travel and restaurant culture as a trained patisserie from Le Cordon Bleu, London.
The book traces how Dwarkadas and Suzann move from their lives in Bandra, where balcony gardens were already overflowing with chillies, spinach and herbs, into a completely unfamiliar system shaped by land brokers, local negotiations and long drives into rural Maharashtra. The decision to buy land happens quickly, almost instinctively, and that same energy carries into the early stages of the journey as they begin scouting plots, eventually settling on a six-acre stretch near Kolad. The land itself comes without water, electricity or a proper access road, and even reaching it involves leaving behind mapped routes and entering terrain that feels distant from the city’s pace and predictability. Once the purchase is made, a straightforward process turns into a drawn-out series of steps involving paperwork, approvals and delays that reshape their understanding of how land ownership works outside an urban setting.
As work on the land begins, the scale of what they have taken on becomes clearer. The farm starts as a dense, overgrown space that needs to be cleared before anything can be planted, bringing in machinery, labour and constant supervision. Water becomes an immediate priority, leading them through local methods of identifying borewell points, followed by drilling that depends on access, timing and the availability of contractors. When water is finally found, it allows the farm to move forward into planting and cultivation. Around them, a group of people gradually becomes central to the farm’s functioning — Mahesh, who connects them to local networks and practical solutions; Sanjay, who approaches the land with experience and caution; and workers like Maruti and Vandana, who take on the daily responsibilities that keep the farm active. Their involvement shapes how the farm operates on a daily basis, moving it beyond an idea into something that requires consistent attention and coordination.
Over time, the project expands from that initial plot into a ten-acre organic farm with fruit trees, rice cultivation and seasonal crops spread across different sections of the land. With that expansion comes a different kind of routine, where decisions are shaped by weather patterns, the condition of the land, and the availability of people who carry out the work. Travel to and from the farm remains part of the effort, especially during the monsoon when roads deteriorate and journeys become longer and more uncertain. The early excitement of starting something new gives way to a more grounded understanding of how much time, planning and adjustment are required to keep the farm functioning across seasons.
Two Bandra Girls Buy a Farm builds its narrative through these experiences, following the shift from an impulsive decision to a sustained commitment shaped by land, labour and the systems around it. The book sits within a growing set of stories around urban migration and sustainability, while keeping its focus on the lived process of starting and maintaining a farm in rural Maharashtra. It brings together questions of food, work, access and community, and shows how those ideas play out over time when they are tied to a specific place and a long-term commitment.