Family Environmental History
July 15, 2025 By: LK
My family’s connection to the land goes back many generations in Rajasthan, India, where the climate is dry and the landscape demanding. Long before my grandparents’ time, my ancestors lived in a world where the environment was inseparable from survival, governance, and even warfare. The rugged landscape, scarce water sources, and harsh climate of the region shaped not only daily life but also the very formation and defence of the princely states in India. This was from the 1400s until 1900s. I’ve heard many stories passed down about how natural features, hilltops, rivers, and deserts, were strategically used to protect territories against invasions like against Mughals centuries ago. Forts were built in places that maximized natural advantages, and controlling vital water sources was often as critical as any military campaign. The environment was a powerful force that dictated the politics, power, and protection of my family’s states.
By the time of my grandparents, the connection to the land remained important, but their role had shifted toward managing estates and sustaining the local public within these inherited landscapes. My grandparents still lived in a time when managing water and resources was a daily part of life in the region. Wells, rainwater collection, and farming were vital for many communities to survive. However, my family’s situation was different from many others in the area. My maternal and paternal grandparents came from aristocracy and held important political positions, including roles like Prime Minister, within the Princely States and during the era of British rule. Therefore, they did not depend directly on the land for their livelihood in the same way as farmers did. Yet, the environment played an important role in shaping their lives.
My family’s lands at the time had a close relationship with the environment around them. The homes they lived in were thoughtfully built to handle the harsh desert climate, thick stone walls and small windows protected against dust storms and intense heat, while courtyards and water systems helped cool the air naturally. These architectural choices showed a deep understanding of the environment and a respect for living within its limits. Hunting, for example, wild boar and antelopes, was also part of the family’s connection to the land. While hunting during British rule was mainly for sport, much of the hunting my family did was for managing the land, local wildlife and sometimes for sustenance. It was a way to live alongside nature and steward balance in the environment.
For my parents’ generation, the environment was something that started to shift in meaning. While they grew up watching land management, water conservation, and seasonal rhythms, their own lives were increasingly shaped by urbanization. Paved roads replaced dirt tracks, family farms nearby were bought up or repurposed, and tourism began to play a larger role in how land was valued. The land was still important, but not always for its ecological functions, it became associated more with development, heritage, or potential income. Many in their generation started moving to cities for education or work, which meant less direct interaction with the land on a daily basis. My father, too, headed a telecommunications company for two decades across metropolitan centres in the country in the 2000s and 2010s. However, my parents’ respect for nature didn’t disappear, it just took different forms. They still planted native trees, recreated on and restored our lands (such as active invasive species management that I now help steward) but it was no longer about survival. It became about maintaining a sense of identity and responsibility, even as the world around them became more industrialized.
In my own generation, the relationship to the environment felt more distant, but also more conscious. I grew up between boarding school and city life and visited my cousins or my family’s lands a few weeks a year. Though, I longed for those days all year and the contrast between concrete and open sky made me an avid enthusiast for the environment. I ended up choosing it as my degree. Unlike my grandparents, I never had to worry about access to natural resources in the same way, but climate change, pollution, and ecological loss are things I’ve grown up hearing about and experiencing firsthand constantly. With the climate crisis, the environment that once shaped daily survival for my family yet again comes a full circle in shaping my survival. Today, it shapes my political conversations, lifestyle choices, and even identity. For my family, our landscape wasn’t just the background, it was something we were responsible for; something we stewarded for ourselves and the local communities; something that we passed to our future generations. In that sense, I try to reconnect with the environment not only out of necessity, but out of care and commitment.