In Delhi's bustling fruit bazaars, where the air is thick with the scent of ripe mangoes, crushed leaves and ambition, a quiet storm is brewing. The conflict isn’t over land or language — it’s over apples. Specifically, Turkish ones.
Once praised for their glossy skin and sweet crunch, Turkish apples are now at the centre of an unusual political protest unfolding across Delhi’s biggest fruit markets — from the massive sprawl of Azadpur Mandi in the north to the upscale INA Market in the south. And it all began with a border — and a statement.
Earlier this year, when Turkiye publicly supported Pakistan during a fresh round of India-Pakistan tensions and even supplied drones to Islamabad, many Indians saw it as a betrayal. The response? Swift, symbolic and deeply personal: a boycott, starting with what was on their plate — or in their fruit basket.
“We’ve stopped placing any new orders from Turkiye,” says Sunil, sales manager at Gemtree, a key importer at Azadpur, Asia’s largest fruit and vegetable market. “Yes, the remaining stock is still coming in, but we won’t support any country that supports our enemy. We must stand with our nation.” The Azadpur Market, built by the Delhi Development Authority in 1977, is not just a marketplace — it’s the beating heart of fruit trade across North India. Retailers from Punjab to Uttar Pradesh come here to fill their trucks with apples, bananas, oranges and more. For years, Turkish apples filled a crucial seasonal gap — arriving from March to June, just as Indian varieties begin to fade. But this year, they’re arriving with crossed arms and skeptical glances.
“Customers usually care about taste and price,” says Shiv, a local fruit seller. “They ask if it’s sweet, how crunchy it is — not which country it comes from. But now, even that is changing.” Turkish apples sit in a mid-range price bracket: cheaper than premium imports from the US or New Zealand but costlier than Indian, Iranian, or Afghan varieties. But in the current climate, even affordability isn’t enough. Some traders, however, are stuck in a moral and financial tug-of-war. “At heart, I support the boycott,” says a salesperson at Exotic Crate Fruits in Azadpur.
“But what if I stop selling Turkish apples and the guy next to me doesn’t? I’ll lose customers. We’re waiting for the government to decide officially.” The conversation is even sharper at INA Market, known for its high-end produce and wealthy clientele. At Golden Fresh Fruit Corner, a vendor is clear, “We’ve completely stopped buying Turkish apples. It’s been over a week. We don’t need them.”
Rajesh, the owner of Rinku Vegetables — one of INA’s largest fruit stores — offers both political and practical reasons. “As a responsible citizen, I fully support the boycott. Profit can never come before national interest,” he says. “But honestly, Turkish apple quality has also gone down lately. That’s another reason they’re not in demand.”
Others, like Bhaskar, another seller at INA, speak with emotion. “I’ve lost all interest in Turkish apples. If someone stands against us, we won’t tolerate it. It’s that simple.”
The impact of the boycott isn’t just local. Travel trends have shifted, too. Websites like ixigo report a steep drop in bookings to Turkiye, with cancellations spiking by 250 per cent. Platforms have paused travel to Turkiye, Azerbaijan and China. Indian travellers are now setting their sights on alternatives like Greece, Thailand, Vietnam and Georgia.
Back at Azadpur, the chaos never stops — porters weave through tight lanes with crates balanced on their shoulders, vendors haggle in rapid-fire Hindi and the ground remains slick with muddy water and crushed fruit. In INA, LED-lit displays glisten with carefully arranged produce. But in both places, Turkish apples have become more than just a fruit — they’ve become a symbol. A symbol of protest, of identity, of how global politics can trickle down to something as simple — and as powerful — as what we choose to eat.
Because sometimes, even a fruit isn’t just a fruit, it becomes a political statement.
