Anu Lall’s Bishnois and the Blackbuck: Can Dharma Save the Environment? is a beautiful, heart-tugging book that wakes up one’s conscience and proposes a return to the paradigms of environmental protection encoded in ancient wisdom still kept alive by the Bishnoi. The Bishnois are a —— found in the arid and semi-arid desert regions of Rajasthan, yet the harsh desert conditions have not made them a survivalist people or hardened their hearts. Instead, they follow a Vaiṣṇava sāmpradāya whose entire spiritual and religious practice is the protection of nature. The cover carries the evocative and impactful image of a Bishnoi woman lovingly nursing a baby blackbuck by her own breast— a practice frequently seen in the community, which nurtures the fawns of deer that have been killed by poachers. The book is laden with stories of sacrifice, valour and passion from the Bishnoi community, and as Lall observes, we mustn’t think of them as mere tales from far-off lands, but these are communities that are very much a part of our own backyard, integral to the very landscape of the country. The community still protects and cherishes their old way of life, prioritizes their dharma of environmental protection each and every day, and we have a lot to learn. 

Lall opens her book with a bang — detailing the case of poaching of two blackbuck and three chinkara in three separate incidents by Bollywood actor Salman Khan, accompanied by other Bollywood personalities like Saif Ali Khan, Tabu, Sonali Bendre, and Neelam Kothari, who chased and killed the precious protected animals pitilessly. The incident was witnessed by a Bishnoi member — whose whole community are like the watchful guardians of the desert, preventing and reporting poaching incidents often before the forest department personnel themselves arrive at the scene. But when it came time to give an eyewitness testimony, the man mysteriously disappeared. In the end, as always in this country, the rich and powerful Salman Khan got away scot-free. The court acknowledged a series of comical procedural lapses by the police and the forensic team. Lal also writes of how a sting operation carried out in 2017 exposed how deer meat could be ordered on demand in hotels and resorts in the Shekhawati belt, wherein direct orders would be placed with hunters, “turning poaching into a doorstep delivery service for 'exotic' meals”. Poaching strikes at the very core of the sacred relationship of the Bishnois with nature, undermining a moral and spiritual framework that has endured for generations. Such killing is not simply the loss of biodiversity as modern environmental language will frame it; it is a violation of a sacred bond and an ethical order and the disturbance of the ecological harmony the Bishnoi have long preserved. For over five centuries, the protection of wildlife has been integral to their way of life—so much so that even rulers historically acknowledged this commitment, issuing decrees that prohibited hunting in Bishnoi regions out of respect for their unwavering guardianship of trees and animals. Through this, Lall brings our attention to the laxity and ineffectuality of the law and the enforcement mechanisms in place in these regions, and therefore highlights how the presence and alertness of the Bishnoi community fills the shoes of the state. 

Lall’s book exhibits a steadfast dedication to not only bringing Bishnoi stories to light but also reverentially honouring the community, tracing the origins of their sentiment and their passion, and pinpointing what we can all learn. Lal recounts a few stories of its shaheeds or martyrs, who laid down their lives to protect fauna against poaching and flora against felling. Multiple accounts of Bishnoi men and women taking on armed poachers and fellers and laying down their lives to save hiran (that includes gazelle, chinkara and blackbuck) are exceedingly touching. Lall urges that they don’t receive enough recognition or praise for their selflessness, the legacy of “ordinary people doing extraordinary things”. The Bishnoi community remembers, records and pays homage to their heroes (Lall includes a list of some of these shaheeds’ heroic deeds). She writes poignantly, “The greatest acts of courage can come from the quietest corners of the earth”. Particularly harrowing is the incident of Amrita Devi, a tall Bishnoi hero whose name should have reached international renown given the nature of her act. The incident took place in 1730 in the small town of Khejarli in Rajasthan, when Maharaja Abhay Singh of Jodhpur dispatched his men to fell khejri trees for firewood for his palace. The braveheart Amrita Devi Bishnoi fiercely resisted the king’s soldiers. She hugged a tree in protest and when she refused to move, she was beheaded. As were her three daughters who followed, embracing the Khejri trees and sacrificing their lives in the same way. Over the next few days, as news spread from village to village, hundreds of Bishnois came forward and did the same—hugging trees to prevent them from being cut. In total, 363 people were killed. When the news reached Maharaja Abhay Singh of Jodhpur, he was shocked and ordered an immediate stop to the felling. He visited the village, apologized, and issued a royal decree banning tree cutting and hunting in all Bishnoi areas. The incident, now known as the Khejarli massacre, remains a powerful symbol of the Bishnoi community’s commitment to protecting nature, remembered through oral traditions, memorials, and local history. Today, Amrita Devi is honored with a memorial alongside the other 363 Bishnoi that laid down their lives to protect the Khejri trees, the kalpavṛkṣa of the desert. We’ve all heard of the Chipko movement but seldom is this incident referenced in our curricula, and this act of bravery and sacrifice is lost in the annals of history. Lall laments that our filmmakers do not immortalize such stories through the powerful medium of cinema, while the West capitalizes on these emotions in order to teach and influence the public. Lall’s book, therefore, is a breezy yet stirring book, a must-read for the young and old alike. It alerts us to the many issues that plague conservation in India, a country whose forest cover only dwindles each year, where poaching is a problem that is ineffectively dealt with by both the forest department and the justice system alike, a nation where capitalism and overconsumption are taking hold — leading to a waning of environmental consciousness. 

Lall spends a chapter debunking the myth that the Bishnois are a “syncretic” Hindu-Muslim community, carefully addressing all the absurd claims made by Dominique-Sila Khan, one of the most influential writers on this claim. Guru Jambeshwar, fondly known as Jambhoji, laid down 29 foundational tenets for the Vaiṣṇava sāmpradāya of the Bishnois, of which one is praying to Viṣṇu each day with the mantra Om Viṣṇu. The Bishnoi perform havans, celebrate Hindu festivals, and are rooted in an unshakeable Dhārmika faith. Jambhoji, in the face of a devastating famine, witnessed firsthand the fragility of human life when severed from nature’s rhythms. In response to this civilizational crisis, he articulated a path of renewal—a way of life grounded in harmony with nature and reverence for all living beings, ensuring the community’s survival for generations to come. This path is at once deeply spiritual and profoundly ecological. He recognized, even before the advent of capitalism, that our dependence on land diminishes, so too does the sacredness of the land and our ancient bonds with nature. This shift is not merely cultural—it is existential.

In another chapter, Lall outlines the manner in which the assiduous activism by the Bishnois led to the declaration of a region of Haryana that served as critical habitat for the blackbuck to be protected as the Badopal Wildlife Conservation Reserve. The power and sheer impact of sustained activism from one community that values the environment above all is indescribably inspiring.

The Bishnoi do not merely engage in an abstract, romanticized notion of environmental conservation. Rather, it translates into tangible outcomes. The “Bishnoi Effect” refers to the measurable ecological and economic impact of Bishnoi environmental ethics on their landscapes. Studies comparing Bishnoi and non-Bishnoi villages found that areas with Bishnoi populations have significantly higher densities of Khejri trees and greater wildlife presence, particularly blackbuck. Higher tree cover is linked to improved agricultural productivity, ecological stability, and even increased income levels. Additionally, Bishnoi practices around water conservation—treating it as a sacred responsibility—resulting in better-maintained and functional water systems and resilience compared to surrounding regions. In essence, the Bishnoi Effect demonstrates how a value system rooted in reverence for nature — akin to the maintenance of sacred groves, termed orans in the desert —produces sustainable, resilient, and materially beneficial ecosystems.

Another critical discussion that Lall picks up is one where she traces the roots of the current ecological crisis in Christianity, in order to finally come full circle and put forth a theological and religious solution to the crisis — Dharmic environmentalism. From sacred groves to religious beliefs rooted in conservation, to one’s svadharma being to sacrifice one’s life for the life of a tree or a deer, Dharma has the solution to truly reawaken the consciousness of every individual, an arousal that is necessary if we hope to pause the rampant ecological destruction that continues to ravage the planet even today. Lal observes how conversion to Christianity in various forest-adjacent regions of the country severs the relationship of the people with nature. She also calls out modern Western notions of environmental protection, which are inadequate and self-serving. Lall writes that “The persistent tendency to overlook indigenous frameworks or look at them like relics of the past, without understanding the vast knowledge they can have, the lived philosophy, is not merely an academic oversight; it reflects a deeper epistemological bias. Despite inheriting a living tradition where environmental stewardship is not a peripheral concern, but a sacred duty woven into the very fabric of Dharma, modern Indian scholarship often exhibits a preference for reinterpreting environmentalism through Western frameworks.” Lall implores that academic enquiry must engage with indigenous philosophies with humility, and recognise that sustainability, reverence for nature and ecological responsibility have long been integral to a dharmic existence. The Bishnois, in this regard, are a powerful case study that shows how ancient communities nurture nature as they do their own children, and exploitation is not second nature to truly Dharmic communities, as ubiquitous as it is today. However, a question remains: given that the Indian state has incentivised the fragmentation of communities, their detachment from ancestral lands, and their integration into market-driven economic frameworks, how can communities that have lost touch with their nature-centric, sustainable roots recover them? Is Dharmic sustainability contingent on the continued spiritual vitality of the jātis and sāmpradāyas? Is Dharmic environmentalism only as alive as the jātis themselves in the face of modernity? 

Lall reflects on the deep rupture in our way of life brought about by the advent of modernity. The chasm separates us from nature—and, more profoundly, from ourselves. This alienation extends beyond the ecological; it is civilizational and interior, revealing itself in the fractures between mind and body, spirit and self. As our spiritual sensibilities have eroded, so too has our relationship with the natural world. Where nature, animals and natural resources were once viewed as sacred, they have been reduced to resources to be exploited to the maximum possible extent. The environmental crisis, then, is but an outward expression of an inner disorder—a failure to recognise that nature is not external to us, but continuous with our own being. To harm it is, in a deeper sense, to diminish ourselves. The Bishnoi live by the dictum that prevents even wounding a tree, let alone cutting it down. The human race has lost all of its compassion; the only way to restore order and cosmic balance is through dharma: that sustains, balances, and binds life. The Bishnoi community stands as an exemplar, a living articulation of this highest truth. Their practices are not archaic relics but highly relevant principles —where restraint, reverence, and responsibility produce abundance rather than depletion.

To quote the Bishnois, 'To harm nature is to harm oneself’. The question before us is not whether such a way of life is possible, but whether we are willing to learn from it. Are we prepared to relinquish excess, to reorient our desires, and to embrace limits as a form of wisdom? Lal articulates this elegantly: any meaningful restoration — of the planet or of ourselves—demands a return to simplicity, to reverence, and to a renewed spiritual imagination.