Everything you need to know about Emmer wheat — and where to read deeper on each part of the story.

Khapli is the wheat our ancestors grew. Not a hybrid. Not a designer grain. The original — Emmer wheat (Triticum dicoccum), continuously cultivated for more than 9,000 years, and almost completely lost in North India during the Green Revolution. We've spent the last three years bringing it back.

This guide is a short overview. Each section below links to a longer post if you want to go deeper.

What khapli is, in one paragraph

Khapli is an ancient tetraploid wheat — fewer chromosomes than modern bread wheat, with a structurally simpler gluten that many people find easier to digest. It has roughly 40% more protein and 2× the fibre of modern wheat, a glycaemic index in the low-50s rather than the 70s, and significantly higher levels of zinc, magnesium, iron, beta-carotene and antioxidants.

→ Deep dive: What is khapli wheat?

Why we're growing it

Khapli almost vanished from North India fifty years ago because its lower yield didn't fit MSP procurement systems, and its protective husk requires dehulling that conventional mills can't perform. In October 2025 we sowed 100 contiguous acres of khapli at Ekant Farms — to the best of our knowledge, the largest contiguous khapli sowing in North India in modern memory.

→ Deep dive: How we revived 100 acres of khapli

How we make it

Every bag is grown, dehulled, ground, sieved and packaged on the same farm by the same set of hands. Stone chakki grinding below 38°C. Bran and germ retained. Paper-pouch packaging. No middlemen between our field and your kitchen.

→ Deep dive: Seed to atta — our value chain

Why it costs more

A 5kg bag of Anaamrit khapli is around ₹550 vs. ₹220–280 for commodity atta. The premium goes to the farmer (38%), to on-farm milling infrastructure, to paper packaging, and to the reinvestment that lets us onboard more farmers each year.

→ Deep dive: Where your rupee actually goes

And then there's the founder's story

Three generations of farmers. A pre-diabetic uncle. A trip to a heritage seed bank in Jalna. The rotis from a first harvest that tasted like a grandmother's kitchen.

→ Read: Why I came back to the farm