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Savannas in India are often hiding in plain sight. This open ecosystem has short grasses, scattered thorny trees, and drought-tolerant shrubs and cover nearly a tenth of India’s land area and support pastoral communities, wildlife such as the Indian wolf, and Great Indian bustard, and more than 200 plant species found nowhere else.
Yet policy documents continue to call them “wastelands,” or assume they were once forests stripped bare by people.
A new study published on November 25, 2025, in People and Nature challenges this long-standing belief using an unconventional archive: medieval Marathi literature. Conducted by Ashish N Nerlekar of Michigan State University and Digvijay Patil of IISER Pune, the research shows that western India’s savannas have been open, grassy ecosystems for at least 750 years, long before colonial forestry and modern land use change.
The researchers examined saints’ biographies, poems, oral traditions, and regional retellings of mythological stories. Each plant name was matched to its modern botanical identity using classical Marathi dictionaries and historical botanical literature. Their aim was to determine whether these regions were once dense forests or the same open savanna ecosystems that exist today.
They identified 44 plant species, nearly two-thirds typical of savannas. Crucially, many of the species described in medieval texts still exist across western Maharashtra’s savannas, linking past landscapes directly to the present.
Some examples make this continuity unmistakable.
A 16th-century retelling of the Adi Parva describes the Nira River valley as “empty” and “thorny,” a place chosen by cowherds for its rich grass exactly the kind of dry, spiky terrain common in the region’s savannas today.
A 15th-century account from Pandharpur mentions a tarati sprouting from a saint’s grave. Botanists identify this as Capparis divaricata, a shrub that thrives only in bright, open landscapes. It continues to grow across the Deccan’s savannas.
The acacia Vachellia leucophloea, repeatedly mentioned by the 13th-century philosopher Chakradhara, still dots the region. Its pale bark and thorny branches are classic markers of open, dry savanna habitat not closed forests.
Taken together, the study shows that western India’s savannas are not failed forests waiting to recover. They are ancient, climate-shaped ecosystems that have persisted for centuries, sustained by fire, grazing, and cultural connections. They thus recognise these grasslands as a distinct and long-standing biome rather than treating them as empty spaces to be filled with trees.
Nerlekar told Down To Earth (DTE) that ecologists, both within and outside of India, have been arguing about the antiquity of tropical savannas for at least a decade now, but very little of this emerging science is being absorbed by policymakers. Colonial forestry valued timber above all else and labelled open grassy biomes as “degraded.” That mindset still shapes environmental decisions today. The culturally familiar evidence should push policymakers to rethink long-held assumptions, he said.
This misunderstanding has real consequences as tropical savannas are often targeted for tree-planting campaigns under the assumption that they were once forested. But planting dense trees in naturally open ecosystems can destroy grassland biodiversity, disrupt fire cycles and replace species that have evolved to thrive in sunlight.
The authors recommend that policymakers recognise savannas as distinct ecosystems and avoid blanket tree-planting drives. Conservationists should map and protect savanna biodiversity and endemic species.
Researchers should treat folklore and literature as valid ecological evidence, alongside archaeology and field studies. Lastly, pastoral grazing practices that maintain open landscapes should be supported.
Nerlekar also told DTE that the team plans to support researchers in other regions in India and outside to build similar ecological histories using local folklore and classical texts.