Life on the edge: Living with lions in Gujarat’s Amreli

In Gujarat’s Amreli district, lions move through villages and fields, sometimes within arm’s reach of residents. Locals have built statues and temples in their honour. But as their numbers grow, the relationship is beginning to shift. Satish Jha captures the chequered history of this coexistence

The villagers gathered at the local temple in Rampara spoke with certainty. “If you want to catch a glimpse of lions, go to the statue area after 10 pm. They come there all the time. Otherwise, stay back at the temple until midnight; you will at least hear them roar. They might even wander into the premises. But that has happened only once, five years ago,” they told me.

I took the first suggestion and headed to the statue area straight after dinner, arranged by the temple priest with whom I was staying. The statue in question was that of a local community hero, built at a crossroads. One road led to Rampara, the coastal village in Rajula taluk of Gujarat’s Amreli district, which I was visiting. The other stretched toward factories near Pipavav Port.

When I arrived there, a group of youngsters lingered around a paan shop. They were smoking, chewing mava (a mix of tobacco and supari), and chatting away. I greeted them and mentioned that I was there to spot lions in human habitats. They laughed at an outsider’s fascination with what, to them, was just another animal in their backyard.

Eager to show off, one of them pulled out his phone and showed me a viral video of lions walking past the paan shop where we were sitting. Another shrugged and said, “They come whenever they feel like it.” But a third lifted my hopes again as he said, “They come here every day, brother.”

Then, mid-conversation, one of them asked us to quiet down. It was close to 11 pm. The village had fallen silent, except for the ‘dug… dug’ sound of water tankers passing the crossroads. In the gaps between those mechanical sounds, we heard the unmistakable bass-heavy roar. One or more lions lurked somewhere in the dark shrubs.

It was a spine-chilling moment for me. But for the youngsters, it was just another night at their favourite hangout spot. A local would later put it in perspective: “People may not like the comparison, but here, lions are as common as stray dogs”.

Revival from near-extinction

Rampara is a densely inhabited village where lions punctuate almost every aspect of daily life. They roam the same roads locals take to the shipping factories where they work. They move through cotton and groundnut fields that farmers till. They drink from ponds that villagers depend on. And they wander past homes and playgrounds. It’s hard to find a resident whose phone gallery doesn’t contain footage of lions strolling through their midst. People post these clips as Instagram reels or share them privately on Snapchat.

But it wasn’t always like this. By the end of the 20th century, the Asiatic lion had disappeared from everywhere except the Gir region in Gujarat. What followed is often hailed as a textbook success story in species revival. Their numbers rose from 327 in 2001 to 411 in 2010, 674 in 2020, and 891 in 2025. The latest count is a 32% increase over the previous census, and includes 196 males, 330 females, and a significant number of cubs.

As the lion population grew, the forests in and around Gir were no longer enough for them. Lions began moving out of protected areas and into nearby farms, roads, and human settlements. According to a 2022 study, nearly half of these lions now live outside their core home, the Gir National Park and Wildlife Sanctuary. Announcing the rise in their numbers in 2025, the state government said, “The Asiatic lion, a jewel and a source of pride for Gujarat, now roams freely across 11 Saurashtra districts, including Junagadh, Gir Somnath, Bhavnagar, Rajkot, Morbi, Surendranagar, Devbhumi Dwarka, Jamnagar, Amreli, Porbandar, and Botad.”

Amreli district, which I was visiting, has the highest concentration of Asiatic lions. The protected forests here exist in scattered patches, separated by revenue land that includes farms and villages. As lions move from one forest patch to another, they often pass through these populated areas.

“Lionesses find revenue areas safer for raising cubs, and easier for hunting cattle,” said Vikas Yadav, deputy conservator of forests, Gir (East) division. Amreli falls under his jurisdiction.

Lilia taluk in Amreli district, in particular, shot into the limelight because of a lioness. Locals affectionately called her Rajmata, the Queen Mother. She was known for her peaceful coexistence with people and her high fertility, which helped boost the local lion population. Rajmata held world records, too. She lived nearly 19 years in the wild, far beyond the usual 12 to 15, and is said to have given birth even at the age of 18. When she died, environment and wildlife enthusiasts built a memorial on a hill near Lilia-Krankach, where she was often seen. It is engraved with the words: “World’s most legendary lioness.” Some villagers reportedly held a prayer meeting in her memory.

Rajmata was to Lilia what Machli, the Bengal tigress, was to Ranthambore National Park.

Such reverence is visible throughout this region. Sculpted lions sit regally on torans (gateways) at the entrances of towns and even at the gates of homes. And if a lion kills a cow, some farmers don’t complain. They see it as coexistence. Lions help keep other wild animals, such as blue bulls and wild boars, away from farms, thereby protecting crops.

Lion spotting

After hearing the roar near the statue area of Rampara, everyone left. But my cab driver and I stayed back. A young man on a motorcycle soon pulled up and asked what we were doing out so late. I assumed he was a forest guard, but he was just another youngster killing time outdoors. When I told him the purpose of my story, he offered to take us to a “secret” spot frequented by lions. We followed him along a rugged zigzag trail into a dense patch of thorny shrubs called gando baval — a perfect hideout for lions. It was not a protected area. The land, he explained, belonged to private firms that had yet to take possession of it. Under the Wildlife (Protection) Act, 1972, Asiatic lions are a Schedule 1 species, and approaching them without permission is illegal. But such rules hold little meaning in this part of the world, where land falls under the revenue department and is privately owned by farmers, companies, and individuals.

Here too, a few youngsters were already hanging out, hunched over their phones. After a quick introduction, one began showing me lion videos that were not out in the public domain.

It was a cool night, but fatigue was catching up. Just as my eyes began to droop, a loud sound jolted me back to alertness. The youngsters said it was Lakshmi, a lioness, chuffing nearby. One of them, rubbing his hands in excitement, told me I was in luck. He had spoken too early. An hour passed, but Lakshmi never showed up.

Finally, the youngster who had brought us there picked up a torch
and disappeared into the darkness. Fifteen minutes later, he returned with an update. He said Lakshmi had stopped here to drink water but had now changed course.

But I had been lucky on the previous day in Lilia, about three hours from Rampara. The orange sun was setting when we spotted two blue bulls standing on a bare farm. To my host, it was a sign that lions couldn’t be far. And then we saw it — a young lion returning from the river. It paused on the riverbed and fixed its gaze on the blue bulls, which quickly vanished from the scene.

After a 10-minute drive, we spotted two more lions resting near a pool of water formed by a check dam. Not too far, three men on a motorcycle were burning something and flashing torches at us, signalling us to leave. They didn’t appear to be forest officials. But further ahead, near the same check dam, a group of foresters was working around a herd of blue bulls.

Growing discontent

Lions began drifting into these villages over a decade ago. I could not trace the first encounter or how residents initially reacted, but I learnt people are now so used to their presence that sightings no longer trigger fear or panic.

Rameshbhai, a resident of Rampara, says he is used to being within arm’s reach of lions and has stopped just short of petting them. “There is no need to fear lions,” he said, speaking with ease. Unlike leopards, he observed, lions are not shy of humans and do not retreat quickly. Other locals think they are “a bit lazy”, but most see this as part of their “royal nature”.

But this coexistence is not without anxiety. Rameshbhai tends to his Gir cows near the Rajmata Lioness’ Temple and keeps them in a cowshed reinforced with iron netting. Lions and leopards often visit his farm at night in search of water and easy prey.

The signs of caution are everywhere. According to 2025 government data, seven people have been killed by lions in the past two years and 40 others injured, and incidents are on the rise. The attacks so far have involved labourers working on farms. In response, the forest department has been distributing iron cage machaans (raised platforms) to farmers staying overnight in their fields. These are meant to protect them from lions and leopards.

I climbed into one such cage, barely six feet by four feet. Even inside, I felt exposed and vulnerable. My senses were on edge. I scanned the fields, shrubs, and every possible hiding place around me, aware that an apex predator could appear from anywhere.

On the way to Ambardi village in Savarkundla, I met pastoralist Govind Bharwad. He was resting with other villagers under a tree, their goats lying motionless in the heat. “We do feel scared, sir,” he said. According to him, the government compensation of
Rs 3,000 for livestock killed by lions is too little. “We raise and nurture the goat, doesn’t it have any value? Where will you find a goat for Rs 3,000 in the market?” he asked. He also feels the law is unfair to them. Any harm caused to a lion is treated as a punishable offence, even when defending livestock from an attack. In the middle of the conversation, he informed me that a lion had killed a calf early in the morning.

“In the past 10 years, their numbers have grown so much that we now encounter them frequently while grazing our goats,” he rued. On top of that, shrinking pasture land and abandoned fields being brought under cultivation are reducing the open spaces pastoralists like him once depended on.

Rampara sarpanch Sanabhai Vagh doesn’t hide his displeasure. “By evening, everyone has to be home. Children must be called in before dark, and if they are late, four or five people go to bring them back. If our cattle don’t return, we assume lions have taken them,” he said.

Balancing act

The Saurashtra region, which includes the Amreli district, stands at a crossroads today. As a semi-arid landscape, it faced long-term water scarcity, which forced mass migration to cities such as Ahmedabad and Surat. Now the pattern is reversing as water availability has improved. ‘Development’ has set in. Thick vegetation is being cleared for farming, riverbeds are being widened, check dams are being built to conserve water, and the road network is expanding. As human settlements grow alongside a rising lion population, they are living in closer contact than before.

Yadav reminds me that this proximity has placed lions in a vulnerable position, too. Amreli district has recorded the highest number of lion deaths, mostly due to road accidents, falls into open wells, and collisions while crossing railway tracks.

Residents posting lion videos on social media to ‘flex’ this proximity is also a concern. According to forest officials, filming lions out in the open is not prohibited, but chasing, disturbing or teasing them attracts punishment of up to seven years in jail. Such acts are treated as equivalent to hunting.

The forest department is trying to maintain a fragile balance. It has deployed four to five forest guards, known as paryavaramitra, in villages such as Rampara. Rescue centres have been set up for injured lions. In schools, children are being taught what to do when they cross paths with a lion. On the road to Lilia, warning boards urging drivers to slow down because lions frequently cross are hard to miss.

As for the Gujarat government, lion conservation and revival efforts have increasingly taken on the character of a vanity project. It remains unwilling to translocate lions to other states. Instead, it has designated the Barda Wildlife Sanctuary in Porbandar, about 100 km from the Gir National Park, as a second protected home for Asiatic lions. This, after over two dozen animals naturally migrated there. What unfolds next may depend on managing the complicated realities of living alongside lions.