Before environmentalism had a name, it had martyrs. ‘Bishnois and the Blackbuck: Can Dharma Save the Environment?’ by Anu Lall tells the remarkable story of a community that turned faith into the world’s longest-running conservation practice. 
 
The book comes at a time of growing concern over climate change and environmental degradation, offering a powerful reminder that environmental protection has long been a lived practice in India. Opening with the well-known blackbuck poaching case, it explores why the Bishnois stood firm against power and celebrity for the life of a wild animal. 

It traces their legacy from the historic Khejarli Massacre of 1730, where 363 men, women, and children sacrificed their lives to save trees, to contemporary legal battles fought to protect wildlife.

Drawing on history, religion, ecology, and law, the book questions the over-reliance on Western models of conservation. It highlights how forests and nature have been regarded as sacred in India since the times of the Ramayana and the Mahabharata and makes a strong case for a Dharma-based approach to environmental protection that remains highly relevant today.
 
Here is an excerpt from the book:

Khejrali Massacre: Sacrificing Heads for Trees

Once upon a time, Khejarli, a small village in Rajasthan, was ruled by Maharaja Abhay Singh of Jodhpur. He wanted to expand his palace and paint it, which required enormous amounts of firewood. His soldiers were dispatched to the village to cut down the Khejri (Prosopis cineraria) trees, which were the lifeline of the village.

On 11 September 1730, Giridhar Bandhari, a representative of the king arrived with his men to fell the trees. (Sohel, Amir, 2024). When the soldiers began cutting down the trees, they encountered unexpected resistance. Shri Amrita Devi Bishnoi, a mother and a staunch believer in the Bishnoi principles of environmental protection, stood in their way. With her daughters by her side, she confronted the soldiers, urging them to stop, who made it clear that resistance would cost her dearly. They didn’t stop felling the trees and Amrita Devi did not stop protesting.

The soldiers asked her to step aside, warning her that they would chop off her head, along with the trees. Amrita Devi stood unwavering, hugging the Khejri, standing firm in the face of imminent danger, and her defiant last words have since become legendary:

“Sar santey runkh rahe to bhi sasto jaan”
(If a tree is saved even at the cost of one’s head, it’s a small price to pay.)

In a moment that would define the Bishnoi legacy, the soldiers brutally beheaded her. As she fell to the ground, her daughters, who witnessed their mother’s ultimate sacrifice, immediately stepped forward to take her place, hugging the trees as well. They, too, were slaughtered.

What followed was nothing short of extraordinary. News of Amrita Devi’s martyrdom spread throughout the village, and soon, other villages as well. These were not times where one could spread information instantly with one text message. The process lasted over a few days. One by one, the villagers embraced the trees, willingly sacrificing their lives to protect what they held sacred. By the time the news reached the Maharaja, 363 Bishnois had been killed.

The massacre shocked the Maharaja of Jodhpur, and he immediately ordered to put a stop to the tree cutting. He visited the Bishnoi villages of Khejarli and apologised for the massacre. He accepted demands made by the Bishnoi panchayat. He issued a royal decree forbidding the cutting of trees in Bishnoi villages.

The Bishnoi community demanded this official ruling from Maharaj Abhay Singh, who issued a Tamarapatra, a royal decree on a copper plate, prohibiting cutting of trees and hunting animals within and around all Bishnoi villages. This decree was issued long before the Indian Forest Act 1927 came into force (Bikku, 2018).

The Khejarli massacre is an enduring legacy woven into the oral history of the Bishnoi community, passed down through folk songs, sung by bards and part of folklore and stories that honour the ultimate sacrifice of their ancestors. While the exact details of the incident have faded with time, this story remains a powerful symbol of the Bishnoi community commitment to protect nature at any cost.

The community remembers the 363 Bishnoi martyrs with great reverence. During my visit to these areas, I often saw paintings of Amrita Devi Bishnoi clinging to the Khejri tree in many homes. The names of the 363 martyrs are mentioned on a stone scroll at the massacre site, along with their village
and ‘gotra’. The gotra in the Bishnoi community is reminiscent of the caste from where the family would have originally joined the Bishnoi community. The entire list of martyrs isreproduced as an annexure.

Mangilal Rao and Bhagirathrai Rao, from the Mehlana village of Jodhpur recorded the names. The Raos have been traditional recorders of history in Rajasthan since ancient times, and they worked to gather this information from traditional sources. From their research it is revealed that people from forty-nine villages sacrificed their lives. Of these, 294 were men and 69 were women. Among them were 36 married couples, including one newlywed couple who happened to be passing by Khejarli village when the massacre took place (Jain, 2016). The martyrs were laid to rest in the very village where they made their ultimate sacrifice, each life honoured with graves that stand as silent witnesses to their courage. 

Today, this hallowed ground thrives with abundant flora and fauna. Every year on Shukla Dashmi of the Bhadrapad month, the Bishnoi community gathers at this revered site. A large fair is held every year to honour the martyrs, now an annual event. They come together to remember, honour, and to renew their vows to protect the natural world, a solemn tribute to the legacy of selflessness left by their ancestors. The community’s profound love for life and the environment remains as alive and vibrant as ever, echoing the timeless values they sacrificed to protect. While research scholars and media have celebrated women environmentalists, they have rarely mentioned Amrita Devi Bishnoi (Mangilal, 2020).

When we think of India’s environmental movements, the Chipko Andolan often comes to mind. We often remember Sunderlal Bahuguna as the man often credited as the one who taught India to hug trees and save them (BBC World News, 2021).

But the roots of Chipko run deeper and older, than what the headlines recall. Long before it gained national attention, the first sparks of Chipko were ignited by the courageous women of Reni village. When the forest they depended on was threatened, they didn’t protest with slogans or legal petitions—they stood between the trees and the axes with nothing but their bodies. Arms outstretched, hearts unshaken, they hugged the trunks like kin, refusing to let the trees fall.

The Khejarli massacre finds several brief mentions in Vandana Shiva’s writings especially her book, ‘Staying Alive: Women, ecology and Survival in India’ (Vandana Shiva, 2010). She has often said in interviews and in her writings how ecofeminism is not a borrowed idea in India. It is native to our soil. It lives in our villages. It breathes through our women.

From the Himalayas to the desert, Indian women have stood as the first and fiercest line of defence for the earth, instinctively, intuitively, and fearlessly. Their bond with nature is not forged through activism but through living.

And yet, too often, their names are missing from the mainstream narrative. Their martyrdom is reduced to footnotes, their legacy handed over to men in leadership positions who arrived later.

Not many know of the details of the Khejarli incident, outside India. Wangari Maathai in Replenishing the Earth, shares just about a sentence on how the Chipko movement was inspired by the Khejarli movement in northwest India (Wangari Maathai, 2010).

It’s time we remembered the truth.

[The excerpt reproduced with the permission of the publishers.]