The range has shaped everything about the many communities and tribes it supports – from livelihoods to culture, beliefs and language. While a dispute over the official definition led to the Supreme Court seeking review, voices on the ground say aravallis‘The imprint far exceeds the physical sizeWhat are Aravalis? In December, the Supreme Court shelved an answer to this seemingly simple question amid a public outcry that the scope was too narrow. The Supreme Court now wants a new criterion to define the range, which stretches 600 kilometers across four states and is nearly 2 billion years old, representing India’s oldest folded mountain range. But talk to people in Rajasthan, synonymous with the Aravallis, and you’ll realize that these mountains are measured not by their height, but by how much they impact the lives of those who call this land home.The now-shelved definition – which involves an altitude cut-off of 100m and a distance of 500m between mountains to demarcate the range – has raised concerns that a large part of the Aravalis will be deprived of environmental protections. For the people who live within it, the stakes are immediate: If the map shrinks, so do forests, pastures, water systems, sacred groves, and the barriers between community life and mining, fragmentation, and forced migration.shelter and food“The Aravalis and our community share a bond that goes back centuries. These mountains are more than geography to us. They are living gods and the core of our identity and existence,” said Hari Ram Meena, a tribal writer and former IPS officer.
The Aravallis are home to some of the oldest communities in Rajasthan. The Meena tribe once ruled much of the Jaipur district and controlled the strategic choke points of the Aravalis before the rise of the Kachwaharajputs. In southern Rajasthan, the Bhil chiefs ruled over large tracts of forest. “The Bhils are known as the ‘Lords of the Forest’. Their role is so important that the royal coat of arms of Mewar depicts a Rajput warrior on one side and a Bhil warrior on the other,” Meena added.Mountains also shaped warfare. During Maharaja Pratap’s resistance to the Mughals, the Aravalis employed guerrilla tactics and covert operations based on their local knowledge of forests, mountain passes, and water sources.If hills provide protection, they will remain so. The Aravallis are the ecological backbone of Rajasthan. It regulates the climate, prevents desertification, provides water to rivers such as the Banas, Luni and Sabarmati rivers, and helps forests survive in arid lands. It is also a cultural watershed that not only separates the river systems that flow to the Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal, but also shapes traditions, language and way of life.
For communities like Bhil, Meena, Garasia, Saharia, Raika, Rewari, Mogia, Nath and Gurjar, mountains are not a resource but a living presence. Temples, sacred groves, hilltop shrines and forest deities dot the land, and the mountains are considered “prakriti tirtha”, a kind of sacred geography.integrate into daily lifeLife in the Aravalis has always centered around forest products, livestock and water. The community collects food, fuel wood, herbs, bamboo, tendu leaves and wild fruits from the forest. Rain-fed terraces grow hardy crops such as millet and beans, while hillsides provide pasture for cattle, sheep, goats and camels.Traditional water systems are central to survival. ‘Johads’, stepwells, nadis and boris – collectively built and maintained – collect rainwater and recharge groundwater. “Our water structures are our lifeline. They are not protected by law but by community ethics,” Mina said.Social activist Kunj Bihari Sharma explains how human and animal life are closely intertwined here. “Aravalli forests are not just greenery,” he said. “They are a source of fuel, fodder, herbs and water. In summer, even wild animals depend on village wells and pastures. Humans and wild animals coexist.”But this balance is gradually being eroded. For years, communities have been told that the forest belongs to the state, not them. “Earlier, people built temples through collective labor. Now, even this practice has been restricted. Meanwhile, illegal mining and quarrying mafia have hollowed out the hills,” Sharma said.This impact is most evident among Scheduled Tribes (DNT) and nomadic communities, whose lives are entirely dependent on grazing landscapes. Gopal Kesawat, former chairman of the Scheduled, Nomadic and Semi-nomadic Communities Development and Welfare Committee, warned that the mining industry has triggered a serious livelihood crisis. “Pastoral communities survive on livestock, milk, wool and hides. When pastures are destroyed, their entire economy collapses,” he said.Keshawat said nearly 10 percent of India’s nomadic population and more than 10 million people in Rajasthan depend on Aravalli-related ecosystems. He recalled that committees such as the Ayangarh Committee and the Balkrishna Lenk Committee had clearly recommended a ban on mining in the Aravallis and demarcation of separate pastures for the DNT community. “These recommendations are to protect people and nature. Ignoring these recommendations puts animals and humans at the same risk,” he said. But where laws fail, cultural practices continue to protect biodiversity.living mountainAcross Rajasthan, ‘orans’ – sacred groves protected by communities – remain untouched due to religious beliefs. The prohibition on felling trees and hunting in these forests, dedicated to local deities such as Bhadarva Dev and Pandurimata, is a social sanction rather than a written rule.One of the most powerful expressions of this belief is the Ghawari dance of the Bhil community. The dance, dedicated to Lord Shiva and Parvati and performed over 45 days by men in parts of Udaipur district, has both spiritual and ecological significance – “it is not entertainment, it is worship of nature,” says social activist Kishan Gurjar. “Deforestation is considered a sin and Ghawari spreads the message of protecting forests,” Gurjar added.The Aravallis also have deep ties with nomadic communities such as Sapera or Kabelia. “The Kabelia people learned to live with snakes, treat snake bites and learn about forest behavior,” said Navin Narayan, a social justice researcher who has worked with these groups for more than 20 years. Caberia was once seen as a protector of the village rather than an entertainer. Narayan warned that the shrinking size of the Aravallis amid mining and forest loss threatens not only their livelihoods but also the traditional knowledge that has linked people to nature for generations.“The survival of the Aravalis owes a lot to the indigenous community. These hills protect people and people protect these hills,” said Manish Barod, block president of the Udaipur Reserve Area Reservation Front. With an eye on the future of the Aravalis, the link has been reiterated repeatedly, with activists and stakeholders saying there is more to protecting the mountains than a simple definition. “Reducing the Aravallis to physical measurements denies its reality. It is a socio-ecological organism where folk culture, agriculture and community knowledge are deeply intertwined,” the sociologist said sham Sander Jani.What is at stake is not just the forests or hills, but the living memory of Rajasthan – the language, rituals, art and way of life that have been shaped over thousands of years.Mountains that define art and cultureThe village of Moraira, located along the Banas River that originates from the Aravalis, is famous for its terracotta statues of the gods. Ask potter Prabhu Gameti and he says the craft exists because of the mountains. “The clay of Banas is smooth and elastic. It does not crack when fired. That is why idols were made here for previous generations,” he explains.Researcher and folk artist Madan Meena warns that environmental destruction can directly erase culture. “When livelihoods collapse, people move. And when people move, languages disappear,” he said, referring to the two dozen languages and dialects spoken in the region, many of which exist only as oral traditions. An art form containing hundreds of words related to seasons, tools, etc. “When an art form disappears, an entire vocabulary disappears,” he said.Herb-gathering communities like Mogiya, and the Nath sect, whose shrines like Pandupol are located deep in the mountains, demonstrate how faith, livelihood and landscape can blend seamlessly. In addition, Jain temples, Buddhist monuments and folk shrines collectively reflect the religious diversity of the Aravalis. “The Aravallis prevented the cultural homogenization of Mewar. Its geographical location ensured diversity in the region,” said CS Sharma, professor of history in Udaipur.
