Tropical Savannas in Indian Literature, Older Than Expected

There are places in the world that quietly preserve their ecological history—not in scientific records, but in the verses of poetry, ancient songs, and stories passed down through generations. The tropical savannas of Western Maharashtra, India, are one such place—a vast landscape long considered by many as “lost forest,” degraded grassland, or merely empty land waiting to be replanted. Yet recent research tells a different story: these savannas are a natural landscape that existed long before the colonial era, even predating some of the oldest literary works in the region.

The title of the study itself, Utilizing traditional literature to triangulate the ecological history of a tropical savanna, opens a window into a past we have never witnessed firsthand. Conducted by Ashish N. Nerlekar and Digvijay Patil, and published in the journal People and Nature in November 2025, the study presents a radical premise, descriptions of nature in traditional literature—from hagiographies to folk songs—can be used to reconstruct the ecological history of tropical savannas.

“The take-home for me is how little things have changed,” says Nerlekar, a plant ecologist, marveling at the similarities between ancient accounts and the vegetation we see today.

Imagine a 15th-century shepherd composing verses about grass swaying under the sun, or deer crossing the open plains, or the thorny yet thriving acacia trees in the dark, drought-prone soil. In these lines lies more than symbolism; there is real information about the species that grew there.

The researchers identified 44 plant species mentioned in the literature, most—27 of them—being typical savanna indicators, not forest species. Only a few reflected forest traits, while the rest were generalists able to grow in various landscapes. These findings show that the tropical savannas of Western India were not degraded forests but long-established natural ecosystems.

Not a Remnant Forest, But an Ancient Landscape

This evidence challenges the dominant narrative that has long influenced conservation policies and public perception, that savannas are degraded land resulting from human activity. This misconception has fueled mass tree-planting campaigns aimed at “restoring forests,” but in reality, such interventions can threaten the savanna ecosystem itself. Evidence from traditional texts, archival paintings, colonial land revenue records, fossil flora and fauna, and molecular phylogenies all support the conclusion that these savannas existed centuries before British colonial rule.

A 16th-century Marathi text described the Nira River valley as a “barren and thorny” landscape filled with grass—not cleared forest. Legends from 15th-century poets mention the taraṭī tree (Capparis divaricata), a light-loving species, growing at sacred sites still visited today. The white-flowering acacia appears repeatedly in texts, showing its presence in past landscapes just as it does today. Nerlekar and Patil conclude that traditional literature can serve as living evidence of savanna ecological history.

This research is not only about plants, it is about how humans have lived alongside nature for centuries. Those who composed or sang these verses were not botanists, but they knew which grasses nourished livestock, which trees survived long dry seasons, and which seasons were best for gathering wild honey. In this sense, oral and written traditions act as a biocultural archive—a historical record of nature inseparable from human life.

“Savanna biodiversity is also sacred,” Nerlekar notes, highlighting the deep connection between culture and ecology. Many local communities in India see savannas not as degraded land, but as sacred spaces and an integral part of their identity.

Implications for Conservation

Why is it important to recognize savannas as ancient landscapes rather than degraded lands? Because how we conserve nature depends on how we understand it. If savannas are seen as “lost forests,” the usual solution is mass tree planting—which often disrupts flora and fauna that have adapted to savanna ecosystems for centuries. Western India’s tropical savannas are home to over 200 endemic plant species, many unique to the region, now threatened by agricultural expansion, development, and climate change.

Acknowledging the value of these landscapes means rethinking conservation—not merely greening every square meter of land, but preserving the biodiversity and ecological integrity that have existed for centuries.

Some of the literary works analyzed by Nerlekar and Patil date back to the 13th century, over seven hundred years ago. The names of the original authors may be lost, but their poems and songs continue to resonate in villages today, serving as evidence of past life. Nerlekar and Patil spent months collecting fragments of these stories, reconstructing landscapes from line to line. This process is like textual archaeology, piecing together past fields, grasslands, and trees to understand what grew long before modern maps existed.

A Fragile Harmony

Today, the savannas of Western Maharashtra still retain much of what ancient literature describes. Grasses stretch in wide swaths, swaying elegantly under the monsoon sun, turning golden during dry seasons—a never-ending symphony of color. Yet modern pressures are real: urbanization, agricultural conversion, development, and climate change threaten the savanna’s integrity. Grasslands are being replaced by seasonal crops or settlements, and natural fire regimes that once fertilized the soil are disrupted.

Still, the savanna stands—not as empty land, nor as a failed forest, but as an ecological entity deeply rooted in nature and culture. Its grasses still dance in the sunlight, and the voices of the past echo in the winds that sweep across the plains.

In a world obsessed with quick fixes—plant trees, green the Earth, reduce carbon footprints—Nerlekar and Patil’s research invites us to pause and listen. Not only to scientists, but to the voices of ancestors who described grasses, trees, and countless seasons.

The savanna is more than grass; it is a living archive, recorded in poetry and folk songs, in the footsteps of those who tended livestock, and in the land itself that has witnessed countless seasons. Reading the ecological history through the lens of culture reveals a truth, nature and humans have never been separate—they grow together, telling the same story from past to present. (Sulung Prasetyo)