After completing my +2, a relative casually asked me what I was doing.
“I’m studying engineering in Dharan,” I replied.
She smiled and asked, “Civil or Computer?”
I answered, “Agricultural Engineering.”
There was a pause—confusion. “Oh, you mean BSc Ag?”
“No,” I replied calmly, “Agricultural Engineering.”
She laughed, “Keto ta khetipati ma lagecha!” (So you’re into farming now?)
I smiled. But inside, a storm was brewing. It wasn’t just a laugh at me—it was a laugh at a discipline, at a dream, and at a deep-rooted misunderstanding. In that moment, I felt the weight of how casually society dismisses a profession that quite literally holds the foundation of our nation.
Agricultural engineering isn’t just about getting your hands dirty. It’s about designing smart irrigation systems that conserve every drop of water in drought-stricken regions. It’s about preventing soil erosion when entire hillsides are at risk of collapse. It’s about building storage facilities so farmers don’t lose their hard-earned produce before it even reaches the market.
Yes, we understand khetipati—but we also understand hydraulics, sensors, AutoCAD, GIS, AI, renewable energy, and climate-resilient technologies. We are engineers who know the language of machines, the language of the land, and the needs of the people.
Civil engineers build the structures we admire. Computer engineers design the digital worlds we inhabit. But we—agricultural engineers—build the foundation that sustains life. Our construction materials are different: soil, water, climate, seed, and innovation.
We work where the real crisis is—on the ground. Where monsoons fail to arrive on time. Where food decays due to the lack of cold storage. Where lives are swept away by rivers. Where millions still rely on guesswork to grow their food. And where farmers are desperately in need of skilled manpower—we are there.
We work on post-harvest technologies, mechanization, conservation of land and water, and renewable energy systems. We map rivers to prevent floods. We stabilize slopes to prevent landslides. We build storage systems to ensure food not only grows but lasts. We install solar panels in pumps, embed GIS in fields, and apply science to survival.
And yet, we are misunderstood. Constantly. Compared with BSc Ag graduates or even mistaken for “tractor drivers.” A relative once joked, “Brother, why study so much just to ride tractors and build farmhouses?” It may have been meant lightly, but these are the stereotypes we face.
We don’t build tall buildings—but we build resilience. We build for farmers, for farmlands, for the sustainability of agriculture. Our achievements don’t shine in skylines, but in harvests, in preserved food, and in the security of villages protected from natural disasters.
Agricultural engineers lay the groundwork—not for towers or highways, but for food security. The more successful we are, the less visible our work becomes. A new bridge may be admired by thousands who cross it, but who notices the millions of liters of water saved by a precision irrigation system?
Who celebrates the grain that didn’t rot because of a cold storage unit? Who remembers the landslide that didn’t happen because a slope was stabilized?
We don’t make headlines for success—we avoid headlines by preventing disaster. No floods, no food shortages, no hill collapses. Just life, moving on. The quiet buzz of a flourishing farm. The soft trickle of water in a previously dry land.
We operate away from the neon lights of cities, far from the spotlight of the media. We work where the real struggle is. Where specialized labor is needed. Where rivers must be surveyed, slopes studied, storage designed. Where solar energy powers irrigation, and GIS guides farmers.
Agricultural engineers are shaping not just the fields—but the future. Not just for today—but for the generations to come. We are not here to simply support farming; we are here to transform it—to make it sustainable, data-driven, resilient, and dignified. We connect tradition with technology, so a child born in a remote village no longer needs to abandon agriculture to live a decent life.
Civil engineers build the structures we admire. Computer engineers design the digital worlds we inhabit. But we—agricultural engineers—build the foundation that sustains life. Our construction materials are different: soil, water, climate, seed, and innovation.
That laugh I heard years ago? Today, it fuels me. Every time someone jokes about agricultural engineering, it strengthens my resolve to show them—
Agricultural Engineers Can Do More.
I am proud to be an agricultural engineer. And forever grateful for that laugh—it reminded me that not all important work is visible. That some of the most crucial contributions happen quietly, without applause—but are no less essential in driving a nation forward.
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