The Unseen Custodians of Banni - The Dhaneta Jats, Through the Lens of Shaheen Desai

The first thing that strikes you about the Dhaneta Jats is the silence that surrounds them-an almost protective veil over their lives, broken only by the lowing of buffaloes across the Banni grasslands. For centuries, this reclusive community has carried its history quietly, away from cameras and curiosity. Their most visible marker, the great crescent nose ring known as the Nathli, feels less like an ornament and more like an emblem of survival.

Photographer Shaheen Desai’s journey to meet them began long before she set foot on the salt-laden earth of Kutch. She had read of the migration of the Sunni Muslims from Iran through Sindh in the 5th century, of their semi-nomadic ways, and of the women who carried tradition quite literally on their noses. For her, the Dhanetas were not just a subject but a living fragment of heritage, one of India’s most elusive tribes.

Reaching them meant crossing puddled stretches of swampy soil until the horizon opened into their encampments, called bhir or vandh. These circles of mud-and-stick homes stood against herds of buffalo. At the entrance, the family chief offered a measured greeting while young girls milked cattle, their laughter mingling with curiosity at the visitors. The women were already absorbed in their morning chores, the men moving steadily with cans of milk.

For Desai, this was no ordinary day. It was her entry into a space often declared “un-photographable.”

Life here is pastoral and precise. The men wear loose Pathanis; the women appear in vivid floral kurtas stitched with exquisite Jat embroidery, a geometry of cross-stitches passed down through generations. The Nathli glimmers against this backdrop, fist-sized and beaded, its weight balanced by threads tied to the hair. It is never removed. To watch a woman demonstrate how she knots it back, almost casually, is to glimpse tradition worn with both pride and endurance.

Cattle sustain everything in Banni. Women cut fodder, feed the herds, and milk the animals, while men shoulder the commerce, delivering milk to community centres, negotiating sales, and handling finances. Semi-nomadic by nature, the Jats move when heavy rains turn the ground to swamp, shifting closer to the White Rann for shelter. Their homes, like their lives, are built to withstand impermanence.

A documentary photographer needs to have a local guide to access such communities, and especially for this tribe, there are very few trusted ones. There is always the ethical dilemma when you are narrating a story of “real people”. "Start by having clarity of your goals, like the purpose of your story, what needs to/doesn't need to be highlighted, what your photograph will illustrate or imply and so on. A little mindfulness about choosing a particular moment to capture and how it makes you feel in the first place is very important.

In case of “Dhanetas”, since we had heard about them being very reclusive, we were prepared to come back without a single image.

Only the consent to photograph is not enough; it’s more about intentions and responsibility in the field at that moment. Reminding yourself that your lens can harm someone’s dignity or preserve it is very important.

Spending some time with the community, engaging with them, listening empathetically and making some quiet observations certainly helps. You gain insights into their story, which can help break a lot of assumptions about them.

Yet once welcomed, Desai found warmth in abundance. The women’s smiles cut across the language barrier with ease. What stayed with her most was the quiet dignity with which tradition continues.

There are always many layers to a story, and if you spend some time without the pressure of

documenting, you are going to be a different kind of storyteller; perhaps your storytelling will be

more meaningful, too. Not forcing one particular narrative stemming from certain presumptions will help in bringing out a good and balanced story. Of course, some research always helps in understanding their journey from the past to the present."

The Jats, or maldharis, who have called the Banni grasslands their home for more than 500 years, are among the most visible victims of climate change. Once Asia's largest grassland is now losing its native species to Prosopis Juliflora, a hardy tree planted in the 1960s to reduce soil salinity. Instead, it has consumed water, strangled native grasses, and altered the ecosystem.

The proud Kankrej cows, unable to survive on anything but organic grass, have dwindled, replaced by the more resilient Banni buffalo. Drought comes in cycles every two years. Even when rains arrive, Juliflora soaks up most of the water, leaving little for native grass to regenerate.

The milk demand has increased; there is a good market, but the milk fat quantity and quality are getting affected, and there is a downward spiral in the income of this landless pastoral community.

NGOs and government bodies are now working to reintroduce drought-resistant grasses, but desertification continues to threaten their future. This ecological unravelling folds directly into human survival.

For Desai, spending time with the Dhanetas sharpened her sense of sustainability, not as a distant concept but as something lived and negotiated every day. She saw women balance heritage with adaptation, stitching tradition into a present reshaped by climate.

"It is tempting to let the Nathli dominate the story. It is, after all, a powerful and unmistakable symbol of identity. Yet the Dhanetas are more than their ornaments. They are the living archive of a history that began in Iran, took root in Gujarat, and continues against the odds set by both climate and circumstance.", Desai mentions.

Through her images, Desai hopes to offer more than aesthetics. She wants to create a bridge, connecting urban audiences with traditions, resilience, and the sacred bond between people and land. “Visual language is powerful,” she says. “If it can help preserve cultural heritage by building awareness of resilience and adaptation, it will have done its work.”

The Banni grasslands may be shrinking, and the Nathlis may gleam against harsher futures, but the story of the Dhaneta Jats continues, quiet and enduring, entirely their own.

Shaheen Desai is a visual storyteller and photographer specializing in portrait, travel, and textile photography. With a deep passion for culture and artisan heritage, she uses her camera to capture the unique stories behind textiles and the people who create them. Her work beautifully blends creativity and cultural appreciation, making each image a celebration of craft and human connection. Shaheen’s photography not only documents but also honors the rich traditions and vibrant lives she encounters on her journeys.