When I reach the camp where they had spent the night, I find only the women and the youngest members of the family. No trace of the men, nor of the sheep or the camel herds on which these people depend for their livelihood. Nur Bhaie explains that, during the day, the men leave with the herds very early in the morning. I should, however, be able to intercept some of them as they pass nearby, along an asphalt road that stretches in a perfectly straight line, as far as the eye can see, along the edge of the camp where we are standing. Nurmanmad Meru is one of the oldest and most respected members of the family I have joined.

His grey hair, slightly dishevelled and combed to one side, stands out against his dark complexion, from which a proud yet peaceful gaze emerges. Fifty-five years old, thousands of kilometres behind him, he belongs to the Fakirani Jat, a community of nomadic pastoralists of Islamic faith who have roamed northwestern India since ancient times, crossing semi-arid steppes and scrubland with their camel herds in search of pasture. The expression "Bhaie" is used across much of India to address a man in a friendly, brotherly manner, but also as a title for respected men within a community, especially in Muslim or traditional contexts. It is a life in constant motion, closely bound to the rhythm of the seasons and to a climate that has always been harsh. For the next few days, he will be my guide. It is late morning, the thermometer has long since passed 35 degrees, and all around are fields whose harvest was gathered some time ago, interspersed with low, thorny vegetation. I have come to Kutch, the largest and westernmost district of the state of Gujarat, to meet some of the last nomadic peoples of India.

By sharing their daily lives, I hope to discover how deeply their existence is bound up with the effects of climate change.

Where we really come from

Surprising as it may seem, there was a time when humanity was far more inclined towards a nomadic way of life than a settled one, within defined and bounded territories. In that not-so-distant era, our ancestors lived in a constant movement of peoples, which produced encounters between cultures separated by vast geographical distances — encounters from which the world we know today was born. Sedentariness is a relatively recent phenomenon, beginning around 12,000 years ago with Neolithic agriculture. Until that point, the first Homo sapiens moved continuously to hunt, gather, and follow the seasons and the herds.

Subsequently, the great caravan routes of Asia, Africa and the Middle East were travelled for centuries by nomadic peoples — the famous Silk Road, for example, was long sustained by nomadic peoples such as the Uyghurs, the Kazakhs, the Bactrians and the Mongols. These were the veins along which vital lifeblood flowed in the form of ideas, religions, technologies, spices and cultures, and many are the empires that over the centuries flourished from nomadic roots. If the world we know was shaped by movement, how did we come to look with suspicion upon those who — by choice or because driven by adverse circumstances such as climate, conflict or persecution — set out on the road, following a primordial instinct of the human race?

It is estimated that today around three per cent of the world's population, roughly 200 million people, lives according to age-old nomadic traditions. The etymology of the word "nomad" derives from the Indo-European nomas, meaning "member of a wandering pastoral tribe" or "one who moves in search of pasture for their herds". We are witnessing today a phase in which the disruption of the balance between humanity and the environment has become more extreme than ever before, with effects that reverberate even upon those who seek to adapt and survive while preserving their ancestral way of life and their bond with the natural world on which they depend.

India's nomads are part of a rich human diversity worth protecting

In this context of mounting threats to their existence, India's last nomadic peoples represent an invaluable anthropological and cultural heritage, put at risk by the dwindling of natural resources and the reduction of habitats. After all, "twenty-first-century nomadism, like that of every millennium, remains hostage to the climate", as Gaia Vince perfectly encapsulates in her book "Nomad Century".

"We traditional herders keep wandering — we go wherever we find good pasture for the camels. These animals are our only means of survival," Nur Bhaie tells me, as we sit in the shade — sparse but vital — of a small tree, at the end of a long march in almost forty degrees of heat, beneath the blazing sun of Gujarat.

Jaga Daiya, an elderly Rabari nomadic herder, walks alongside his camels on the edge of a highway in Kutch, a region in north-western India © Andrea Ferro

Members of a nomadic family of camel herders from the Fakirani Jat people at the camp where they spent the night in the countryside of Kutch, a region in north-western India © Andrea Ferro

The Fakirani Jat are one of India's last nomadic groups, originating from Kutch in the north-west of the country, whose livelihoods are based primarily on herding a local breed of camel © Andrea Ferro

Jaga Daiya, an elderly Rabari nomadic herder, prepares tea with freshly milked camel's milk © Andrea Ferro

An evening around the fire © Andrea Ferro

But there is another group that shares the same challenges of adapting to a changing climate as the Jat. The Rabari carry with them an equally centuries-old tradition of nomadism. The men are easily recognisable by their distinctive turbans, as white as their garments, and their thick handlebar moustaches, while the women wear long black dresses with veils over their heads, unlike those belonging to the Fakirani Jat, who tend to dress in red. While the Jat are typically Muslim, the Rabari follow the Hindu faith, but both communities base their existence on herding Karai camels. Karai camels are an indigenous breed from Gujarat, distinguished by their ability to swim for kilometres through brackish water and to survive in saline environments by feeding on mangrove plants such as Avicennia marina. They are now considered an endangered breed due to habitat loss caused primarily by coastal reclamation, industrialisation and climate change.

Nomadic life and a changing climate

Even though India is accustomed to dealing with extreme heat, 2024 was the hottest year on record since 1901. A recent study published by the Council on Energy, Environment and Water (Ceew) reveals that 97 per cent of Gujarat's districts fall within a "very high" or "high" Heat Risk Index (Hri). This is giving rise to increasingly extreme weather events, such as monsoons that have become ever more irregular and unpredictable, with rainfall often far above average or falling outside the usual season. Given that their way of life is built around natural cycles and grazing opportunities, the planning of seasonal migrations is the first thing to suffer. Nomadic herders must therefore adapt their routes and bring forward or delay their movements. During the hottest periods they are forced into marches of many kilometres before finding land suitable for their animals and sources of water, and must move with greater frequency. During the monsoon season, rainfall traditionally reduces the frequency and distances of travel, but when it is excessive it damages pastures and temporary shelters, while sudden floods cause livestock losses and casualties among the nomads themselves.

Nomadism and geopolitics: tensions between India and Pakistan and the consequences for seasonal migrations

The stories of the Fakirani Jat and the Rabari have long been intertwined with major geopolitical questions, as well as climatic ones. Both communities have for centuries traversed routes that seasonally crossed what are now the borders between India and Pakistan, two nations in conflict since their partition in 1947. On 22 April 2025, a new terrorist attack in Indian Kashmir carried out by militants linked to Pakistani Islamist groups claimed the lives of 26 civilians, mostly Hindu tourists. This led to a sharp escalation of tensions between the two countries, with a series of skirmishes between the two armies near the border, until a new ceasefire was signed in early May. Gujarat, a border territory, is directly affected by events between the two Asian nuclear powers. Ancient routes have today been cut off or become too dangerous, and for many nomads the modern borders represent a break with their tradition and cultural heritage. Their wandering life — free and therefore difficult to control — casts a shadow of suspicion in the eyes of the authorities, bringing a further critical issue to the fore: territorial fragmentation.

Parimal Nathwani ✓ @mpparimal

𝕏

The Fakirani Jat tribe of #Kutch, #Gujarat is an indigenous nomadic tribe who live in mud houses called 'pakkhas'. A farming & cattle-rearing community, believed to have descended from Iranian migrants that settled here. #GujaratCommunities @InfoGujarat

♥ 234💬 6 11 nov 2021 · Apri su X →

In light of the hardships that define nomadic life today, I ask Nur Bhaie whether he has ever considered giving up his wandering way of herding. "I want to carry on doing what I have done all my life," he replies, his face betraying no doubt whatsoever — only a quiet, steadfast resolve.

I want to live with my family as I have done all these years, and to earn my living as I have done until now, for as long as I have life in me.

Nur Bhaie

Today, younger generations are increasingly drawn to an urban way of life — in many respects less free, yet at the same time less arduous — and within the broader debate on the climate crisis, insufficient weight is still given to the steady erosion of humanity's cultural capital. In this sense, the nomadic communities of the twenty-first century represent an invaluable anthropological heritage endangered by growing urbanisation, territorial fragmentation, an increasingly extreme climate, the scarcity of natural resources, and conflicts over access to vital resources — but also by the consequences of the voracious consumerism that characterises the society of which we are a part.

An encounter with the Fakirani Jat, the Rabari, or other peoples who live beyond geographical or social constraints can help us to ask ourselves important questions about our own way of life and our future on this planet — beginning with the meaning of modernity, and with our relationship to the natural world.