If you’re a Booted Eagle flying southwest of Bhuj, at some point, you’ll spot an emerald-green kidney bean—a tiny speck of colour on the crumpled brown paper of the earth. Swoop down sharply, gliding along the edge of the Pragsar Lake on a clear day, and you’ll get a glorious bird’s-eye view of Chadva Rakhal… a living lab of 12,792 acres of tropical thorn forest in the arid "wastelands" of Kutch. A wild anomaly that continues to stay wild, 150 years after it was first seeded as an idea.
In February this year, I arrived here on the wings of a promise I had made to Jehan Bhujwala. A naturalist whose last name announces his fealty to the land in three short syllables. Bhuj is where his Parsi ancestors witnessed floods and droughts, plagues and wars. Bhuj is his fulcrum. His natural habitat… And I was here to walk with him at Chadva Rakhal, the forest he’s been restoring and protecting for 20-odd years.
It was 8.45 am, and the sun was already threatening to have a meltdown. But the sky was obstinately cool blue. We were entering the Rakhal from its northern edge near the lake, where a royal orchard of chikoos and tamarinds rises like a daydream in a desert. The heat now sifted through the canopy, evaporating with each step. The plip-plop of falling objects—a seed here, a pod there—the crunch of twigs underfoot, and birdsong (lots of it!), drawing us into the quieter folds of the forest.
But wait. What was that noise? That racket near the grove by the stream. Was it crows squabbling over territory? Or food? Or mates? (“Leave my missus alone!”) Not quite the welcome I expected. And yet, there they were, hanging upside down like trapeze artists in tuxedos. Not crows. But bats! A whole colony of them. Socialising by day (and night) to celebrate the wild life, the good life, at Chadva Rakhal.
Was this what drew Bhujwala to a "wild life" too? To the thrill of discovery, of never fully grasping the true nature of nature… Was this where he unearthed his natural instincts? Take a wild guess.
“My earliest memory of Chadva Rakhal is from when I was 4 or 5 years old… I was invited by the Maharao [Pragmulji III, the late titular head of the princely state of Kutch], and drove through it in his open-top Willys jeep,” says Bhujwala. “It was his private reserve then [now managed by the Maharao Pragmulji Nature Conservation Trust and the Forest Department]. It was wonderful driving through the wilderness, undisturbed by humans. It was my first experience of a natural habitat, and probably, the start of a lifelong fascination for the natural world.”
Yet, it was decades later, in 2006, that Bhujwala returned to the Rakhal—once again at the invitation of the Maharao. This time, not for a joyride in a jeep, but to explore the possibility of eco-tourism. By then, Bhujwala, a trained geologist and naturalist, had spent years in the forests of Central India and, with his wife Katie, set up Shergarh, a wildlife lodge at Kanha Tiger Reserve. In 2015, they would also go on to restore The Bhuj House, and welcome travellers to the last outpost of built Parsi heritage in the city. But busy or not, Bhujwala couldn’t ignore the "deep sense of connection" he felt to Chadva Rakhal.
A prized parcel of land, the Rakhal has escaped the hungry maws of development since the 1870s. Enjoyed and protected by five generations of the royal family— especially the last Maharao and his wife, Maharani Priti Devi—it has also been sustained by Maldhari pastoralists, who graze their cattle here, and by people like Bhujwala, who know the worth of wilderness can’t be measured in square feet.
But what will it take to save this pastoral watershed for the next 150 years? What will ensure the long-term preservation of this diverse tract with patches of scrubland, savannah grassland, rocky hillocks and rivulets that feed lakes and seasonal wetlands? A sanctuary for mugger crocodiles, leopards, birds and butterflies—home to 268 species, including the rare caracal and Schedule I mammals like the pangolin.
For now, Bhujwala and his fellow Trustees are doing all they can to keep the bulldozers at bay. From getting it recognised as an Other Effective Area-based Conservation Measures site to inviting scientists for biodiversity surveys, they are building invisible fences around Chadva Rakhal every single day.
After a part of the Rakhal (grass preserve) was handed over to the Forest Department last year, Bhujwala’s focus has shifted to making the orchard (managed by the Trust) a botanical garden that celebrates the vegetation of Kutch. He also dreams of turning Chadva Rakhal into a research and nature education hub. Responsible travel experiences like walking and cycling shall follow. As will art residencies and cultural evenings.
For the moment though, Bhujwala is busy rebuilding heritage structures like a camp house and a stable destroyed in the 2001 earthquake to make room for an office and a field research centre. He’s also working on interpretation tools to help the untrained eye appreciate a tropical thorn forest. In an overbuilt world with an underripe understanding of why the wild is wonderful, Chadva Rakhal offers a counterpoint to order—owning its quiet chaos like the orange-striped handmaiden moths mating in broad daylight (aren’t moths nocturnal?). It’s a bridge between us and all that is elemental, free and feral. A place where eagles soar and bats let their hair down at breakfast. And where the imagination of a 4-year-old in a Willys jeep still runs wild.
Chadva Rakhal is located south of the Bhuj-Nakhatrana highway, 25 km from Bhuj and approx 6 km along the road that continues south from the village of Samatra.
INR 100 (Monday–Saturday) and INR 150 (Sunday); entry free for children below 12;
chadvarakhal.org.