Deg Rai Mata Oran: Grove of the Gods and a Changing Landscape
Photo StoryPublished : Jan 21, 2022Updated : May 24, 2022
Rajasthan’s sacred groves, locally called orans, were once secure wildernesses that also supported livelihoods. Today, with power lines and green energy projects dotting the landscape, they are no longer safe spaces for their rare and diverse wild residents
Text by: Radhika Raj
Photos by: Dhritiman Mukherjee
Rajasthan’s sacred groves, locally called orans, were once secure wildernesses that also supported livelihoods. Today, with power lines and green energy projects dotting the landscape, they are no longer safe spaces for their rare and diverse wild residents
Sumer Singh Bhati learnt his first lesson in conservation aged five. “I remember my father fighting several men to save a chinkara. I didn’t understand much, but I was very scared,” he says. The fleeting memory of quarrelling voices and fear stayed with him — and a lesson, that speaking up for the wild needs grit, and sometimes, takes a fight.
Bhati was born in Sanwata, one of the twelve villages around the Deg Rai Mata Oran, a sacred grove in the harsh Thar desert. At 22,000 hectares, it is one of Rajasthan’s largest sacred groves. Legend has it that 600 years ago, the ruler of the Bhati dynasty stopped by the Deg Rai Mata temple in Sanwata to ask for blessings and, in return, donated land to it. Since then, the villagers have treated it as divine and protected everything that lives within it. There’s no rule book or fence that guards the oran, says Bhati, just a traditional value system passed from generation to generation through songs and stories. “Every child knows that you can’t cut a single branch here, not even a datoon (twig used to clean teeth),” he says. “It’s what my parents taught me; it is what I teach my children.”
The Thar is one of the smallest but most thickly populated deserts of the world. Despite the unforgiving climate and a land sapped of water, large populations call it home. In part, life here is made possible by the orans. “Several villages in Rajasthan are attached to an oran. Every oran houses secure water resources like lakes and tanks and doubles up as grazing grounds for livestock,” says Dr Asad Rahmani, senior scientist and ornithologist. “In return, the villagers safeguard the biodiversity within it.” Untouched by time, preserved over generations, orans are genetic storehouses of near-natural native vegetation and secure homes for several threatened species. About 25,000 orans stretch across Rajasthan — each with its own deities, waterbodies, wildlife, and guardians.
In a parched landscape like Sanwata, where calamity is just a failed monsoon away, the 32 waterbodies in Deg Rai Mata Oran provide water to twelve villages and a population of about 50,000 people. During the harsh summer, villagers turn to these forests to harvest ker berries (Capparis decidua), and sangri beans from the khejri tree (Prosopis cineraria). They come here with sacred red cloths to tie around the khejri tree — to pray for rain, good fortune, offspring, and love. Orans are the lifelines of the desert.
No official fence demarcates the Deg Rai Mata Oran — the borders were drawn six centuries ago and marked with black stones along its edges; villagers claim they still exist. In 2004, 5,817 hectares were registered in the name of Deg Rai Mata Temple Trust. “The registration of only a part of the oran raised a few alarms,” says Bhati. “But when solar and wind energy companies started digging across our sacred land, we knew something was wrong.”
In 2016, the first wind turbines were installed, and with it, says Bhati, came both fear and rage. “People from across twelve villages started gathering for meetings. Sometimes we got into fights and tried to drive the labourers away, but we knew that wasn’t enough,” he says.
But the traditional orans were changing at a pace that Bhati and his community could not grasp. In late 2019, powerlines and monstrous, towering pylons started springing up. In June 2020, villagers led by Bhati submitted a memorandum to the District Collector to register the remaining land in the name of Deg Rai Mata Temple Trust. Despite several protests, by December 2020, electric lines stretching across 115 km and 339 pylons to support them were installed across Deg Rai Mata Oran, but outside the 5,000 demarcated hectares.
In a parched landscape, where cultivation is limited to the monsoon, villagers depend on herding for their livelihood. The villages around Deg Rai Mata Oran collectively own about 5,000 camels, 3,000 cows, 25,000 sheep and 15,000 goats — all entirely dependent on the oran for grazing. In these forests, Bhati, a herder by profession, ferries his 200 camels. In July 2020, a few months after the powerlines were laid out, a camel was killed by electrocution.
The looming threats have only fortified Bhati’s resolve to protect the wild. Every day he spends long hours surveying the oran, closely monitoring its residents. A total of 66 bird species have been recorded, including the critically endangered great Indian bustard (Ardeotis nigriceps) and the Indian vulture (Gyps indicus). Several mammals and reptiles such as the Indian desert fox, chinkara, nilgai, Indian long-eared hedgehog and the spiny-tailed lizard are also found here.
The oran also supports hardy vegetation. Small creatures, including the Indian desert cat (Felis lybica ornata), hide under the succulent euphorbia plant’s thick, thorny cover. Desert cats avoid the intense desert heat by being most active during dawn and dusk (crepuscular). “One of the telling features of an oran is that the animals aren’t as skittish as they are in other landscapes. They don’t see human beings as a threat and remain at a comfortable distance in their presence. This cat, in particular, was rather friendly,” says Rahmani.
“As a boy, I remember seeing several hundred chinkaras (Gazella bennettii) running across the landscape, but in the last few years, the numbers have fallen by 50 per cent. I feel lucky if I can see a few in a day,” says Bhati. Free ranging dogs and poachers continue to target the dainty gazelle despite a strict vigil and stringent laws against hunting. The powerlines are an added threat. In July 2021, a chinkara collided with a live wire and died instantly.
The muscular and sluggish red sand boa (Eryx johnii) is a non-venomous snake that kills its victims by constricting or tightening its muscles around it like a coil. In the Thar, among its most common prey is the spiny-tailed lizard. The lizard stores body fat in its spiky tail to survive the long months of winter hibernation, making it a favourite among raptors and other predators.
The sand boa is not the spiny-tailed lizard’s only predator. Its body fat is falsely believed to be a remedy for numerous human ailments and an aphrodisiac in traditional medicine. These dug-out burrows are evidence of poaching. Poachers dig burrows to flush the lizard out. Despite a strict ban on selling and the highest protection under the Indian Wildlife Protection Act, “sanda” oil is still sold illegally.
Locals frequently bring their cattle to a small waterbody near the Deg Rai temple. Every winter, the site also welcomes hundreds of demoiselle cranes that travel from Siberia and Central Asia to feed and breed here. Since 2019, the site has been engulfed by a mesh of high-tension electric wires obstructing their flight path. During every migration season, dozens of them collide with the wires and die
Bhati now surveys the ground for birds as much as the sky. Every November, steppe eagles make the arduous journey of over 5,000 km from Mongolia, Russia, and northern China to spend their winters in India. Power lines are especially attractive to these raptors in the Thar, because natural high perches are rare.
Bhati campaigns across villages, enlisting people in his rescue team, to look out for poachers and injured birds. “We have about 10-12 people who regularly patrol the oran,” he says. Bhati’s uncle Khetpal Singh has lived and grazed cattle in the Deg Rai Oran for the last 60 years, but since 2019, he doubles as its guardian, keeping an eye out for injured creatures that can be helped or rescued.
In April 2021, the Supreme Court directed the governments of Gujarat and Rajasthan to lay high voltage power lines underground in the habitats of the great Indian bustard to avoid electrocution of the critically endangered bird. Despite the order, construction of overhead lines has continued.
The orans of Rajasthan hold a complex set of meanings — they support culture, biodiversity livelihoods — but most importantly, they are lessons in coexistence and hope. In India, where just about five per cent of the land falls under “Protected Areas”, the sacred groves guard critical landscapes. “If we lose our orans, where will the demoiselle cranes go? Where will I take my camels and go?” says Bhati. “This life as we know it will cease to exist.”
is one of India's most prolific wildlife and conservation photographers. His work has been featured in leading publications. He is also a RoundGlass Ambassador, and an RBS Earth Hero awardee.
