Under the winter sun in Uttarakhand’s Terai West forest division, Mohammed Shafi, a Van Gujjar community leader from Tumariya Khatta village, sits on a wooden cot in his dera, his gaze fixed on the fields his family has cultivated for decades. His voice is calm but strained.
“What kind of order is only for Hindus?” asks Shafi. “They are allowed to grow crops, but we, Van Gujjars, as Muslims, are not permitted in the same khatta?”
The Van Gujjars, a Muslim forest-dwelling pastoralist community, are spread across the Himalayan ranges of Jammu & Kashmir, Himachal Pradesh and Uttarakhand. Currently, about 70,000 Van Gujjars reside in Uttarakhand.
For centuries, the Van Gujjars inhabiting the hills of Garhwal and Kumaon, have migrated to Uttarakhand’s Bugyals (alpine meadows) in summer and the lower forests (Terai) in winter. However, forest urbanisation and conversation policies have restricted their movement over time, pushing them to settle and sustain themselves in fixed locations.
Beyond limits to movement, the forest authorities have tried various ways of robbing them of land and livelihood. In recent years, they have faced demolition drives, forced evictions and state crackdowns and have been denied access to grasslands for cattle grazing.
Now, Van Gujjars in Tumadiya Khatta are struggling to make ends meet as they are further discriminated against over the right to cultivation.
An ongoing discrimination
In the summer of 2015, the forest authorities razed houses belonging to Van Gujjar families in Tumadiya Khatta without any prior notice of intimation. Mohammed Shafi has been involved in a long-drawn battle to claim land and grazing rights for Gujjars in the Khatta since. Following the demolition, the Van Gujjars have been subjected to an unending ordeal.
According to Shafi, despite holding receipts of grazing tax from as early as the 1830s, the forest authorities have repeatedly dismissed Van Gujjar’s claims of having any document, accusing them of occupying the land and carrying out illegal activity in the forest.
In October 2015, 31 residents of Tumdaiya Khatta filed claims under the Scheduled Tribe and Other Traditional Forest Dwellers Act, 2006, also known as the Forest Rights Act (FRA). However, these claims remain unanswered until now. Last year, Shafi and forest rights organisation Van Panchayat Sangharsh Morcha (VPSM) filed an RTI before the social welfare department of Uttarakhand, seeking an update on a decade-long silence.
An RTI filed by Shafi and forest rights organisation Van Panchayat Sangharsh Morcha (VPSM) before the social welfare department of Uttarakhand. Photo: Sonali Chugh
They still await a response from the information officer, Uttarakhand.
The Forest Rights Act was promulgated with the intent to undo ‘historical injustices’, promising forest dwellers the right to grazing, cultivation and access to resources essential for sustaining and housing.
Even after two decades, the implementation of the FRA has been sluggish and exposes a lack of bureaucratic intent. The monthly report last published in November 2024 by the Ministry of Tribal Affairs on the status of implementation of FRA reveals that in Uttarakhand alone, 6,493 community and individual claims were rejected out of the 6678 filed claims.
Permission for cattle grazing. Photo: Sonali Chugh
Tarun Joshi, a forest rights activist and coordinator of the VPSM, explains, “The forest department was created to exploit the forest, not to save or conserve, this has been the case since British rule. The colonial legacy continues. To this day, even after nineteen years of the implementation of the FRA, they are not ready to accept or acknowledge Van Gujjars’ rights under the Act.”
The Forest Rights Act has had no bearing on Van Gujjars’ suffering. Ashraf, Shafi’s son has laminated and preserved several permission slips attested by the forest authorities that allowed cattle gazing for Van Gujjars.
After the demolition, these permissions were withdrawn and women’s entry to the forest became increasingly limited. Their daily visits to the forest for fuelwood and shrubs were marked by interruptions and harassment by forest guards and watchers.
“They don’t care about paper documents, they do as they please”, says Zukeha, a resident of Tumadiya Khatta.
Sequence of injustices
The nomadism of Van Gujjars has always been seen as an anomaly to a state that functions with the logic of boundaries. The British Forest Act of 1865, for instance, dispossessed forest-dwelling communities from traditional ownership.
In one of her writings on Van Gujjars and forest conservation, social anthropologist Pernille Gooch contends that the colonial state saw Van Gujjars as ‘wild’ because of their nomadism.
She writes, “Colonial rulers saw the pastoralists as being beneath the peasants on the evolutionary…the British further considered the Gujjars and their cattle not only as ‘a great nuisance,’ but also as a ‘kind of necessary evil.”
Not a lot has changed since. Even 75 years after independence, the process of identification, objectification, and criminalisation hasn’t ended. The biased portrayal of Indigenous Van Gujjars by the Forest Department has made them subject to atrocities and human rights violations, and their transhumance lifestyle continues to be labeled as encroachers, poachers, and a threat to wildlife.
When asked about the deteriorating economic and living conditions of the Van Gujjars in the Tumadiya Khatta, the Divisional Forest Officer (DFO) Ramnagar responded by saying, “Van Gujjars are not a forest-dwelling community. They are encroachers”.
Even after several orders reasserting the rights of Van Gujjars in Uttarakhand, the forest authorities disregard these protections, claiming that their way of life is “not rightful”. Joshi explains, “The forest department operates with a landlord mentality. They believe the people of the forest are their subjects, who can live only at their mercy,”
The political marginalisation of Van Gujjars is not recent and reveals a pattern leading up to their condition and treatment today. Already marginalised and vulnerable to state’s anxieties about forests, the changing political climate of India further pushed them to the periphery.
Shafi alleges that in the 2015 demolition, houses of Hindu pahadis (hill residents) were left untouched. “They also destroyed our hand pump and Tripal (plastic shed),” he recalls. “In the peak summer, without water, our buffaloes started dying. All the calves died of thirst. Many animals didn’t survive. This wasn’t just demolition. It was an attack on our survival.”
After the demolition, Van Gujjars in Tumadiya Khatta were met with silence from their Hindu neighbours. “When our house was broken, none of the pahadi Hindus stood with us, what will they do now?” says Shabnam, another resident from the Khatta.
Shabnam had given birth to her youngest child days before the demolition. Narrating her ordeal at the time, she says. “I didn’t even have access to the roof to feed my newborn, access to the washroom is far-fetched.”
Tumadiya Khatta is home to approximately 25 Van Gujjar nuclear families, divided into eight extended families. Across them live pahadi Hindu families, including upper-caste Brahmins and Thakurs, two tribal families and one family from other backward castes (OBC).
Parallel, land owned by Van Gujjar and Pahadi individuals in Tumadiya Khatta. Photo: Sonali Chugh
Van Gujjars rely heavily on water buffalos to make a living; their sustenance is often by selling milk and other dairy products and bartering stubble and manure for other essential resources. Owing to the growing inaccessibility of the forest and a ban on seasonal habitation, Shafi and other families in Tumadiya Khatta resorted to cultivation to feed themselves and their cattle in the mid-1990s.
Till last year, Van Gujjars were cultivating crops despite some resistance from the forest authorities. However this winter they were barred from growing crops, while the Hindu pahadi community cultivated their fields without hindrance.
Masra Bibi (45), sitting on the ridge dividing the Van Gujjars and Pahadi fields, says, “They said that if we get permission like the pahadi Hindus, they will let us cultivate. But these pahadi are doing it without permission. Their children will have food on their plates but ours will be left starving.”
Initially, Pahadi Hindus were hesitant about speaking on the matter, there was an unspoken fear as if saying too much could bring them trouble. The tension in the air was palpable. However, as the conversation progressed, they expressed their displeasure with Van Gujjar’s conduct.
“Even though they are not being allowed to cultivate this time, all of them have tractors. Where are they getting their money from, and they will not move from their place without a motorbike?” said a pahadi man, who wished to remain anonymous.
The experience of the forest is not the same for pahadi and Van Gujjars. Both, the state and pahadi Hindus in the vicinity, expect the Van Gujjars to perform quiet marginalisation.
A pahadi man, who didn’t want to be identified, said, “Van Gujjars have brought this situation upon themselves.”
Another pahadi resident added that frequent legal battles of Van Gujjars with the forest department have led to restrictions on them. “That’s not the case with us, if you don’t say anything to them, they won’t say anything to you,” she said.
On the question of communal bias, the responses were a little inconsistent. One pahadi Hindu initially acknowledged the alleged communal attitude of the forest department but immediately denied it.
Surviving a polarised state
A decade since the demolition, the communal tensions in Uttarakhand have escalated. During the 2021 Uttarakhand elections, many BJP leaders used derogatory terms like ‘land jihad’, asserting claims of intrusion and unlawful occupations by Muslim residents of Uttarakhand.
While these claims were unfounded, over the last three years, these claims have been used to justify eviction and demolition drives of other so-called ‘Muslim encroachers’.
Two years ago, the usage of the term was expanded in Uttarakhand to shift focus from the demand for strict land laws to prevent the purchase of land by ‘outsiders’. It was still intended to justify the eviction of so-called Muslim encroachers.
At a 2023 Dharma Sabha, organised by Hindutva group Rudra Sena, calls were made for an economic boycott of Muslims and a ban on the settlement of ‘non-Sanatanis.’ Rakesh Tomar, a leader of Rudra Sena in Uttarakhand, openly threatened the Van Gujjar community with violence if they did not vacate the area.
Many Van Gujjars in the Khatta believe that their identity as Muslim pastoralists has contributed to rising antagonism against them. “There is no other explanation, they are doing all this because we are Muslim,” says Shabnam.
In an interview with the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS)-backed magazine Panchjanya, Uttarakhand chief minister Pushkar Singh Dhami stated that over 1,000 mazar (unauthorised shrines) had been constructed on forest land in the state apparently as “mazar jihad”. After this, the state witnessed a massive demolition drive in the forest area.
Before and after: A mazar in Tumadiya Khatta (left) and a fenced area with remnants of the mazar (right). Photo: Sonali Chugh
Officials prepared detailed lists with photographs and demographic details to systematically demolish them. In May 2023, the crackdown reached from Haridwar to Nainital district. Within a month, more than 300 mazars were razed, including Baba Mastan Ali Mazar in Tumariya Khatta.
“They want to erase our identity by demolishing the mazar. To portray us as encroachers, they are trying to show that we have come recently and occupied the land,” says Mohammad Bashir, the caretaker of the Baba Mastan Ali Mazar.
“Since 2009, we had been seeking permission from the sub-divisional officer to celebrate the Urs, what we call Bhandara in our language”, Bashir explains, showing all the documents. “In 2023, we followed the same process, informing the police about the celebration. They acknowledged our request. But on the very day of the Urs, our mazar was razed to the ground.”
Bashir was served a notice fifteen days before the mazar’s demolition. Despite filing a reply, the forest authorities barged into the site with heavy force and two JCBs.
After the demolition, while locals tried to rebuild the mazar from mud, the forest authorities razed it again.
“When we asked ‘why are you destroying this?’ they said, ‘The chief minister ordered it. Talk to him’,” says Zainab. “Kam se kam ek bus bhar ke aadmi aur aurtein thi, hum kya ladte (There was a bus full of men and women. How could we fight them?).”
Along with the mazar, the forest authorities also took down loudspeakers in the Khatta. Zainab says the forest department cited issues of noise pollution, claiming that the sound of azan disturbed the wildlife.
“Sirf azan se hi awaaz nahi aati hai, mandiron se bhi toh aati hai. Ab nahi hai azan (The sound isn’t just azan; it comes from temples too. Now, the azan has fallen silent),” she says, distraught, explaining how the move has disoriented their sense of day and prayer time.
Eviction orders, electricity cuts
In 2022, The forest department also cut off the electricity supply to the homes of forest-dwelling Gujjars. Alleging communal bias, Shafi says, “They cut electricity only for us because of our identity but not others. When the judge asked who was using the electricity, the department responded, ‘Those who own the pattas.’ The judge then ordered them to provide those documents, but the department never produced them in court.”
Commenting on the issue, Joshi, the FRA activist, says, “It is evident that the forest department had a communal motive behind the electricity cuts. If electricity was disconnected only for 85 Muslim Van Gujjar households out of 700 in the same area, it clearly indicates bias.”
The DFO responded to the allegation and said, “No facility akin to a revenue village can be allowed in the forest. We had asked the electricity department to disconnect their supply.”
The court’s language on the issue, as evident in a few judgments, has further reinforced the narrative that they are outsiders and encroachers.
In 2018, the Uttarakhand high court delivered an order that further marginalised the Van Gujjars. A division bench of Chief Justice Rajiv Sharma and Justice Lok Pal Singh stated, “The Van Gujjars are a constant threat to wildlife… who have encroached upon forest land with impunity.”
This judicial hostility has emboldened forest authorities to continue their crackdown on the community. DFO Prakash Arya cited this court order to justify the forest department’s actions and dismiss allegations of a communal bias raised by the Van Gujjars.
In 2015, the forest demolished a government-approved school. The school was officially recognised in 2011. Before that, it was run by an NGO. Nearly a decade later, in 2024, officials threatened yet another demolition of the existing school.
When asked about the allegations, DFO said, “We wrote to the DEO (district education officer) to confirm whether they had taken permission to establish a school on forest land. The DEO did not respond and instead threatened the community.”
The authors reached out to the DEO for clarification regarding the allegation via email but have not received a response yet. The story will be updated once we get a reply.
The only government school in Tumadiya Khatta. Photo: Sonali Chugh
Shafi, who has fought more than 10 cases in court, recounts, “The forest department has repeatedly issued eviction orders in violation of the Supreme Court stay. Earlier, even the ranger and forest inspector harassed us with eviction orders. But later, we learned that authorities below the forest in charge or DFO cannot do so.”
“In 2024, the high court asked the forest department who comes under the forest area. The officers replied, ‘No one.'” He adds, “I thought everyone was equal before the Constitution. Why is this discrimination against us? Before the BJP government, Van Gujjars were not facing this much harassment,” he says.
Justice in denial
Most Van Gujjars in the Khatta refuse to leave the forest, their ancestral home. However, some seek rehabilitation due to the constant harassment by the forest department. Yet, community members allege that authorities are unwilling to rehabilitate them because of their identity.
In the 2018 divisional bench order, the Uttarakhand high court had stated, “The meager compensation is paid to the Army widows and their family members but the persons who have encroached upon the forest land and are responsible for depletion of wildlife… The state government cannot give a premium on dishonesty… to rehabilitate the Van Gujjars is against the public policy.”
This order not only held Van Gujjars as a threat to wildlife but also equated their struggle and traditional way of survival with dishonesty.
Joshi claims there are hundreds of incidents that establish the communal attitude of state functionaries.
“Even progressive judges have commented negatively on the community,” he says, highlighting the systemic bias against the Van Gujjars.
While hearing the forest fire case in 2016, the Uttarakhand high court passed an order regarding the disciplinary suspension of the officials, fixing their accountability in future forest fires. However, in the same order, the court directed, “Gujjars who have encroached upon the forest land be evicted within a period of one year from today.”
This order threatened to uproot the community once again. But the Supreme Court stayed the order after the forest department itself challenged the High Court’s decision to exempt itself from disciplinary action.
With the harassment intensifying with time, Van Gujjars fears being falsely implicated in a case, Shafi explains, “We no longer go to the forest. We are afraid of the forest department. They say, ‘you cannot enter without permission’. But they don’t issue us that permission.”
With heaviness in his voice, he added, “Van hai to hum hain, van nahi hai to hum nahi hain (If the forest exists, we exist; if the forest doesn’t exist, we don’t exist).”
‘More than just a piece of land’
Trishant Simlai, a conservation geographer, has been working with forest dwellers and on the governance of the forest landscape for more than a decade. According to him, what’s happening with Van Gujjars right now follows a communal logic.
He says. “I have been working on conversation and social justice in Uttarakhand for a decade now, but for the last three-four years, I have witnessed an extreme shift in the landscape, with extreme polarisation.”
The discrimination by the state is exacerbated in the case of Van Gujjars; their history as transhuman pastoralists coupled with their Muslim identity gives even more fodder to the state to frame them as intruders.
Any act of resistance or agency by Van Gujjars against state action is perceived as an obstruction to the status quo. Therefore, their fight against discrimination is not only for the right to live in the forest but also for upholding their identity and existing with traditional wisdom.
For the Van Gujjars, the forest is more than a piece of land; it is an inheritance, a way of life etched into their very being.
As the sun sets over Tumdiya Khatta, their long struggle for survival continues into the next day – a testament to their resilience and the spirit that refuses to be erased. The air in Tumdiya Khatta is carrying a mix of feelings as these conversations come to rest – a kind of sadness, accompanied by hope wrapped in the yeast of struggle.
They long for a connection with their roots – that landscape, that way of living, for which and with which their ancestors lived. They walk with the echoes of those before them, their stories eternally woven into the forests and mountains of the Himalayas.
Perhaps Shafi captured this best in his own couplet:
Van hai vanwasiyon ke ghar ka bageecha,
Van ke phool vanwasiyon ke aangan ki phulwari hai.
Van ko bachate hain vanwasi khud saathiyon,
Forest Department van ko bechne ka bahut bada khiladi hai.
(The forest is the garden of the forest dwellers’ home, the flowers of the forest are their courtyard blossoms. It is the forest dwellers who protect the forest, my friends, while the Forest Department is a big player trying to sell it.)
Rizwan Rahman is a Delhi-based journalist and researcher with over six years of experience in broadcast journalism
Sonali Chugh is an Independent researcher, currently working on themes of citizenship, access to justice and gendered experience of forests in Uttarakhand
