The Maldharis of Saurashtra: In Search of Greener Pastures

Whether it’s wildebeests meandering across the Serengeti or pastoralists navigating the grasslands of Gujarat, migration remains one of nature’s enduring patterns. Both follow seasonal cycles, tracing paths shaped over generations, to find water and greener pastures, year after year.

In October 2023, my teammates and I followed the Maldharis, specifically members of the Bharwad and Rabari communities in Saurashtra, Gujarat, for 15 days, to track their movement and understand what drives their seasonal migration. Every year, Maldharis (pastoralists in Gujarat; mal= livestock and dhari = keeper) set out on foot, on a journey that loops back to where it begins. However, this movement isn’t random. It has been fine-tuned over generations, and migration is dictated by the seasons and necessity. During Chomasu (monsoon), Maldharis remain in their villages, waiting for the rain to replenish the grasslands at home.

As the first rains arrive, the maldharis shear their flocks. It is a pivotal communal event that brings families together. Herds of mal (comprising local breeds of sheep, such as the panchali, and a few goats) are taken to the nearest water resource, where they are thoroughly washed in preparation for the shearing process. The process is accompanied by distinct whistling and calls, and requires immense patience and collaboration. Followed by this, they meticulously shear the sheep with a handheld scissor-like tool. Shearing is more of a preparatory ritual than for economic gain, as this wool holds little to no market value in the region today. Shearing is an act of care, as it helps sheep withstand heat during migration, prevents matting, dirt accumulation, and parasites, and reduces the risk of skin infections. Despite the labour-intensive nature of the task, Maldharis remain deeply mindful of their animals’ well-being at each step of this process. 

We visited nine Maldhari villages in Saurashtra (Babarzar, Moti Gop, Timbinesh, Bhader, Bhandariya, Gunda, Mota Gunda, Jogvad and Suryavadar). From them we learnt that their once-abundant grasslands are now depleted. Expanding farmlands, along with fenced-off power plants and windmills, have increasingly reduced available grazing spaces. What is left of the fragmented land is being taken over by invasive plant species like Lantana camara (abhaangani), Neltuma juliflora (gando bavad or Ram bavad) and Senna uniflora (kuvadiyo). Many herders have noted the decline in native plants and grasses as invasive plants have taken over the landscape. While Neltuma juliflora and Senna uniflora do not directly impact their livestock, the Maldharis believe that rain dripping off Lantana camara is harmful to the mal’s fur.

We conducted semi-structured interviews and focus group discussions in these villages where the Maldharis spoke of their seasonal and daily migration patterns. For eight months each year, they migrate with their mal, beginning their journey shortly after Diwali (in October) and returning only with the onset of the monsoon. These migrations typically start from their home villages and end in Junagadh, Jamjodhpur, or Upleta (all abundant in water, grasslands, and farmlands). While at home, the Maldharis undertake daily migrations with their livestock. Maldharis now need to walk longer distances each day (4-10 km each way) to find grass when they are home. However, more of them are shifting to farming, further expanding agricultural lands.

As grazing spaces shrink and migration routes shift, the relationship between Maldharis and farmers is also changing. Historically, farmers and pastoralists had mutually beneficial relationships where migrating livestock would feed on crop residue and simultaneously leave their droppings to fertilise the fields. However, with increasing mechanised agriculture, this interdependence is waning. Farmers no longer rely on organic manure as they once did, while Maldharis now often have to buy fodder and request permission to stay on farmlands during migration, oftentimes offering their labour in return. This shift has made their relationship more fragile. Additionally, more Maldharis are turning to agriculture themselves due to these mounting challenges, further transforming the grasslands.

The Maldharis’ economic survival is closely tied to their livestock. Their primary source of income comes from the sale of milk and the sale of their livestock. They sell excess milk at nearby dairies, once their domestic needs are met. The process is gendered, with all dairy transactions handled by men in the family. What sets non-bovine milk apart is its superior nutritional profile, largely owing to the diverse vegetation that these animals feed on. The mal feed on a variety of native grasses and shrubs, some of which are said to increase their milk-producing capacity (some local grasses are lapdo, varelu, samervo, jinjvo and phamol). This varied diet makes it nutritionally superior to conventional dairy milk. The price of milk varies based on the fat content, and sheep milk, which has a higher fat content (5-6 per cent), fetches a better price than goat milk (2-4 per cent). 

Some Maldharis barter milk for access to farmlands while migrating. Earlier, milk products like mava (milk solids) were exchanged and sold as an additional source of income, but this practice has largely been abandoned due to time constraints and dwindling demand. Migration also affects milk pricing; without long-term agreements with dairies, pastoralists struggle to secure stable prices for their milk.

The bond between Maldharis and their mal is rooted in deep familiarity and traditions passed down through generations. From an early age, children assist their elders, learning the Maldhari way of life: how to communicate with the herd through distinct sounds, recognise grasses their mal prefer and those with medicinal value, understand seasonal changes, and navigate interactions with wildlife. They also learn to identify individuals in the herd based on their colour, size, markings, and behaviour, and to use dogs to help herd their animals. These early lessons shape the skills essential for migration and survival. At the same time, Maldharis learn to maintain a necessary emotional distance from their mal. While their survival depends on the well-being of their animals, forming too strong an attachment to their livestock can make it difficult to sell them when necessary. The price of an individual depends on the size, health, and breed. Some choose mal by their colour, while others prefer healthier and larger individuals who are tolerant to stress. Buyers travel from far-off places to villages in Saurashtra, often introduced by long-established traders. The absence of a formal market within villages makes these transactions essential. Until recently, mal were also exchanged as gifts during weddings. However, with the number of Maldharis shifting to agriculture and other professions, the practice has stopped.

As the monsoon months draw to a close and grazing resources deplete, the first steps of migration begin. One or two male family members set out to scout suitable greener pastures and form agreements with farmers for temporary grazing access. This process involves careful assessment of available fodder, water sources, and the willingness of farmers to permit grazing. Once a suitable site is found, the family begins preparations by packing up their belongings and securing essentials such as clothes, utensils, and supplies for the journey. Donkeys are loaded with these belongings, and small groups (usually one or two families), begin their migration.

Walking is a necessity, and the spot where they find themselves at dawn becomes their temporary resting place. Their stay at any given location is brief (one or two days) before they move again in search of freshwater and grasslands. However, access to village commons is never guaranteed. Grazing lands are shrinking, making their journey more precarious with each passing season. Conflicts sometimes arise along the way. Farmers and villagers may not be happy about them staying in the commons. Wildlife compete for the same resources, and encounters with predators such as jackals and hyenas pose an additional risk to livestock. With fewer resting spaces available during migration, the stress on both the Maldharis and their mal has intensified.

The Forest Rights Act of 2006 (FRA) acknowledges the traditional grazing rights of pastoral communities. Mapping the seasonal migratory paths of the Maldharis helps in filing claims to use and manage the resources on which they are dependent. However, the implementation of FRA is not devoid of bottlenecks; the process is usually slow and tedious. The associated bureaucratic challenges further complicate the process.

For the Maldharis, the act of migration is more than just movement — it is survival itself. Yet, as grasslands diminish and access to commons remains uncertain, the very landscape that has sustained them for centuries is becoming unrecognisable. Their seasonal routes, mapped only in memory and experience, need formal recognition to prevent further erosion of their way of life. The question remains: how much longer can they keep walking before the paths they once knew change entirely?