Life & Style

The beers at Woodside Inn in Bengaluru
| Photo Credit: Special arrangement

People making their ramyun at the newly-opened restaurant Genz ramyun, a self serve Korean ramyun bar, at Beach Road in Visakhapatnam.
| Photo Credit: KR Deepak

At the House of Mahendra Doshi’s Wadala showroom, a 43-foot mural takes up an entire wall. In tones of sepia and gold, it picks out different chairs, regions, and architectural styles to illustrate India’s seating design lineage — setting the tone for its new exhibition, A History of India through Chairs. “I wanted to show how cultural context and history shaped chairs,” explains Vivek Gandhi, who conceptualised the exhibition in Mumbai, which has been curated by his father Anand Gandhi and uncle Chiki Doshi.

The 43-foot mural taking shape
| Photo Credit:
Vivek Gandhi

“In the mural, we depict how pre-colonial seating had low khatts [cots], jhulas [swings], and low khursis for royal baithaks [gatherings]. Then, the Portuguese introduced elevated seating, ornate Bishop’s chairs and the cadeira do avô [grandfather chair or armchair],” he adds. “The Dutch brought the burgomaster [a 17th-19th century teak chair with a circular cane seat, six legs, and a carved back], and the English their planter chairs [with a deep seat and sloping back].”

(L-R) Chiki Doshi, Surpiya Gandhi, Vivek Gandhi, and Anand Gandhi
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

A collection of 50 years

The House, with the country’s largest curation of antiques, objets d’art and collectibles, knows its chairs. Their collection, started by Mahendra Doshi 52 years ago (and added to later by the family), has over 3,000 chairs — collected from across Gujarat, Goa, Rajasthan, Kerala, West Bengal, among other locations. It also includes pre- and post-Independence models such as the streamlined Art Deco chair, the Jeanneret chair, and modern avatars that embrace Indian maximalism and European minimalism alternatively. Choosing just 250 was a challenging exercise.

Mahendra Doshi
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

“When I was going through the warehouses, I found a teak chair covered in plastic. It was one that dad [Anand Gandhi] had bought 30 years ago at an estate sale in Gujarat. It was covered in ceramic moti work [beadwork], but it was in bad shape,” recalls Vivek. “No one does this handwork anymore, and it took us over three months to find a collective in Bhavnagar that works with beads that are barely a millimetre in size. A 78-year-old Ba [honorific for an elderly Gujarati woman] was able to do the most complicated part of recladding the chair. The restoration took close to eight months.”

The Durbar chair with moti work from Kathiawad
| Photo Credit:
Vivek Gandhi

Seats of power and provenance

The chairs are presented chronologically: indigenous pre-colonial, Portuguese colonial, Dutch colonial, English colonial, French colonial, Indo-Saracenic, the Arts and Crafts movement, Art Deco, Mid-century Modern, and Contemporary. Acquired from estate sales, private parties and dealers, they present India’s story at the intersection of craft and history.

A History of India through Chairs
| Photo Credit:
Vivek Gandhi

“While low stools in pre-colonial times were just seats, raised chairs became more popular with the arrival of the Portuguese and Dutch,” says Chiki, adding that “a high chair evokes power”. The materials speak of provenance, too: both through local use and trade routes. For instance, Goan and Dutch chairs were fashioned from rosewood, abundantly used across the east (with its Dutch ports at Pulicat in Tamil Nadu and Masulipatnam in Andhra Pradesh) and west (with Goa as a Portuguese colony). In Gujarat, however, teak wood has been used since pre-colonial times. Chairs from the late 18th century include a bajot (used by priests during rituals), a handpainted doli (palanquin), and a khursi with a brass-clad backrest and equine detailing.

Bajot used by priests
| Photo Credit:
Vivek Gandhi

A low khursi
| Photo Credit:
Vivek Gandhi

Gujarati doli handpainted with vegetable dye
| Photo Credit:
Hashim Badani

From royal to Rococo

The curation also shows how the scope for ornamentation offered Indian craftspeople an opportunity during colonial times to add their own stamp to the designs. An Indo-Portuguese Bishop’s chair from the late 18th century has an Ashoka emblem at the top. “On closer inspection, we found that only the emblem is in teak; the carved chair is made with rosewood. We surmise the emblem was added later when the chair was repurposed by an Indian craftsman for a court or government office post-independence,” observes Anand.

Indo-Portuguese Bishop’s chair with an Ashoka emblem
| Photo Credit:
Vivek Gandhi

A rosewood chair made for Raj Sahib Mansinhji II Ranmalsinhji, the Raja of Dhrangadhra (circa 1893), bears the name of the carpenter on the back, a rare stamp of a maker. “It’s also one of the few chairs with a date on it [in our collection]. Usually, we arrive at the timeline of the chairs by looking at the time period of the design practised,” says Vivek.

Durbar Hall chair from the Raj of Dhrangadhra
| Photo Credit:
Vivek Gandhi

Then, there’s a French Rococo dining chair with an ochre seat that evokes the Chippendale style (with flowing curves and decorative fretwork), a style popular among elites in Kolkata in the 18th century. A pair of Indo-Saracenic chairs from the 19th century are rich with raw silk upholstery and a mirror on the backrest. A rosewood Anglo-Indian throne chair from the same period has zardozi work on its burgundy upholstery and “was most probably made for a British official”, says Vivek. There’s also the Red and Blue Chair by Dutch furniture designer Gerrit Rietveld. With this lounge chair designed in 1917, Rietveld stripped the traditional armchair of its volume and emphasised functionality.

French Rococo dining chair
| Photo Credit:
Vivek Gandhi

Anglo Indian throne chair with a crown and zardosi work
| Photo Credit:
Hashim Badani

The Red and Blue Chair by Gerrit Rietveld
| Photo Credit:
Vivek Gandhi

For Chiki, however, the Art Deco chairs hold a special place, as it was a movement that coincided with a young independent India creating its own design syntax. “The Deco movement in Bombay [from the 1930s onwards] was so big that the architecture was not just on Marine Drive. It was in the bylanes of Dadar, Matunga, on theatres, shops and buildings. And the geometric furniture that came with it was a respite from all the Gothic carved furniture that everyone was used to.”

Art Deco lounge chair
| Photo Credit:
Vivek Gandhi

To visitors and collectors, the organizers have a request: linger, engage with the history, culture and context, and notice the restoration. Anand’s daughter Surpiya, who is behind the exhibition design, says, “There was luxury in terms of raw material, but there is something to be said about craftsmanship. And the restoration was done with painstaking detail [keeping this in mind].”

A History of India through Chairs is on from February 28 to March 8 at Mahendra Doshi, Mumbai.

The freelance writer is based in Chennai.

Published – February 27, 2026 07:27 am IST

In an immaculate courtyard where The Oberoi Udaivilas’ gold sun insignia ushers in the harsh mid-day heat of Rajasthan’s spring — a transition from its freezing winters — Sandra Button, chief judge of the The Oberoi Concours d’Elegance, says something significant during a panel discussion.

After having spent time between February 20 and 22 assessing and marking approximately 120 striking vintage and classic cars and bikes owned by well-heeled, well-meaning participants — a slate consisting millionaires, billionaires, and former maharajas from across India — Sandra says: “Approach a car. Let it speak to you.”

Arjun Oberoi, Executive Chairman The Oberoi Group, Simon Kidston, a judge, and Dhanraj Gidwaney, owner of the Bentley that won the Best of Show prize
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

Cars cannot speak. But if there is anything I have learnt over an opulent caviar, wine, and cheese-filled Udaipur weekend, cars, particularly of the painstakingly-restored vintage variety, tend to spark a certain unbridled joy. The Rolls-Royce for instance, can be effortlessly suave; and others, a Ferrari or Mustang perhaps, can be endlessly sexy.

Although they may have been purchased before the advent of smart phones (the oldest car at the Cocours dates back to 1905), and the default lens towards life was in sepia, these cars have modern bodies, luscious colours, infinite customisations, and missing parts reverse-engineered from scratch.

At Udaivilas, cars and bikes that once transported presidents, royalty, and racers, dot the lawn and the courtyard of this property overlooking Lake Pichola and the Udaipur City Palace. There is a BMW and Rolls Royce lounge, where participants donning Chanel glasses and dapper suits, engage in long discussions on the engineering that goes behind some of these vehicles’ engines, while politely tabling discussions on business for later.

The BMW 507 Roadster
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

Lest we forget, a fashion show by designer Tarun Tahliani, who presents to the audience, a lecture-demonstration of the transition of Indian textile and design through the ages to reach India Modern. Some parts of this conversation were already presented at a show celebrating 30 years of his brand at Hyderabad on January 16 set to the pellucid voice of Nehru chanting the words of his famous Tryst with Destiny speech. Nevertheless, he mesmerised an engaged audience, with quips about other Indian fashion designers making ostentatious clothes that cannot be worn even on occasions, while also urging brides to cut down on their lehenga fabric.

Amidst the crowd at the sunny Concours is 22-year-old Khushi Dossa, the youngest participant. When she was a little girl, Khushi says that she set her sights on a Capri blue vintage Bentley at her home, where conversations about cars, particularly century-old ones, often took centre stage.

“It was simple. The car was blue and it was my favourite colour,” says the granddaughter of Nitin G Dossa, chairman, Vintage & Classic Car Club of India, Mumbai.

What she did not anticipate was that this 1949 Bentley Mark VI with a drophead coupé that was once owned by the Maharaja of Mysore, would become hers when she turned 18. A gift from her grandfather to carry forward a storied, luxurious history, while honouring the family’s tradition of entering their slate of collections in car shows across the country.

Another view of the BMW roadster
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

Extensive work on restoration of the car at P&A Wood, a heritage Rolls-Royce & Bentley servicing service, in London, for one and a half years kept her away from learning to drive the vehicle. The car, which has been in the family for 30 years, arrived just in time to take part in the second edition of Concours d’Elegance, where it won two prizes — the public vote for the best car, and the first runner up in the Post-War European Classics category.

“[In Mumbai] I look forward to taking it for a spin around Fort and cruising down Marine Drive every Sunday so that we can set the car against the architecture of its times, while also being able to catch a cup of coffee,” says Khushi.

Kushi’s participation and an interest to grab a coffee after in her vintage car, is an important marker of a new generation that is continuing to invest in this expensive hobby for passion’s sake alone. Her grandfather who won the Chairman’s Award for his contribution to the field, says that over 75% of the participants at the event are below 50. With 70 cars in his kitty, the veteran says that events like this fuel the fire of a generation that is intent on not just winning, but also deriving joy from putting back a machine that could have once been mere scrap. “Today’s cars are silent, and automatic. You hardly feel anything significant about it. In vintage cars, one can hear a heartbeat. That is a feeling to cherish,” Nitin says.

Chairman’s award presented to Nitin Dossa
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

It was precisely to celebrate this feeling, that a concours of such magnitude was created, says Arjun Oberoi, chairman, The Oberoi Concours d’Elegance. When asked what it takes to put together a concours of such magnitude for the second time, Oberoi says, “It is all about timeless elegance, detail, and ensuring that we preserve our heritage, one that reflects part of what India is, for the future. When we [The Oberoi group] turned 90, we wanted an event that celebrated the legacy of the country, while also being a poignant reminder of this significant milestone. The first concours was so well-received that we decided to do it every other year because we wanted the cars to be of a certain stature,” he says. To help narrow down a list of timeless cars that would be on display, Manvendra Singh Barwani, curator of the event, came on board, he adds, while flitting in and out of this conversation, to chat with members of Indian royal families from Jodhpur, Baroda, and Gondal, at the event. He is also part of the team giving away the top honours of the event, the best of show prize, to Dhanraj Gidwani, who owned a 1937 Bentley 4¼ litre drophead coupe that was once owned by the Nawab of Bhopal; and to Gurmukh Sal, the owner of a BSA WM20, a rugged 500 CC British military motorcycle made in 1937 for the Second World War.

Vintage cars at the event
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

Our conversation takes place near Udaivilas’ jetty where several Rolls-Royces are on display. We stand amidst Yohan Poonawalla’s line of Phantoms all the way from I to VIII except the IV of which only 18 were made between 1950 and 1956. Yohan says that he is intent on completing his collection. He adds that choosing from this line-up which includes the 1979 Rolls-Royce Phantom VI from Queen Elizabeth II’s royal fleet, and the latest, Phantom VIII, the last to have a privacy suite within the vehicle, would be impossible. “Picking a favourite would be like having to pick your favourite child. Impossible,” he says, adding that all his cars are not competing in the competition. “It is nice to see them all in one place. Some will be going back to London so a display like this is rare even for me to see,” he says.

Cars may not speak but they certainly elicit an emotion for people across economic classes. For those who use cars more functionally, a solid vehicle that allows for travel to work and the occasional cross-country trip, is ‘child’-enough. For those with greater purchasing power, a car for every mood — happy, sad, steadfast, angry, blue, green — determines the day.

Race cars at the event
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

In the midst of sparkling wine and wins at the closing ceremony, Shrivardhan Kanoria, a third-generation collector and restorer, who ‘makes vintage cars sing,’ says that it all comes down to the simple things — not the flash and the dollars (yes, dollars) poured into restoration.

Standing next to his 1923 Rolls-Royce Roadster, a sporty two-seater model that once belonged to a West Bengal ice cream businessman named RS Colah, the restorer who has already done several victory laps at the Udaipur Concours, says, “What is the point of a car if it does not tell a story?”

The author was in Udaipur on invitation from The Oberoi Group.

At India Art Fair (IAF) Design, architect Kunal Maniar’s Love Bench, a 21-foot, 3,000 kg sculptural metal piece with a bolster made of water hyacinth and banana pulp fibre, had guests pausing. Elsewhere, Bloom, a chandelier by designer Dhruv Agarwwal explored nostalgia and childlike curiosity through colourful Channapatna beads, with a colour palette inspired by his visit to the Kumbh mela. And architect-designer Ashiesh Shah’s Taamr (copper) saw traditional matkas reimagined as light fixtures.

Dhruv Agarwwal’s Bloom chandelier 
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Bigger, bolder, and more expansive than ever before, the design section, now in its third year, featured 14 Indian studios and two international design galleries. The limited-edition, process-led works offered a snapshot of the diversity and momentum of contemporary design. “What began as a focused introduction has grown into a space that foregrounds craft-based practices, material intelligence, and cross-disciplinary thinking,” explains Jaya Asokan, the fair’s director. “Each year, we’ve seen deeper engagement — from audiences, institutions, and practitioners — affirming that design is not peripheral to the art conversation but very much part of it. Boundaries between art, design, craft and architecture are increasingly fluid.”

Jaya Asokan, director, India Art Fair
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Villa Swagatam and Æquo presented the work of French designer Marie Gastini. The booth displayed embroideries, lighting and seating.
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

“Design complements the arts ecosystem. It connects craft, culture, functionality and creativity in ways that belong in the broader cultural dialogue.”Kunal ManiarPrincipal architect, Kunal Maniar and Associates

Overlap between art and design

Design is at an inflection point in India today. Besides being a distinctive commercial category at the art fair, 2026 saw a delegation from Salone del Mobile, the world’s premier Milanese design fair, visiting the country during IAF, and events such as India Design ID following soon after. Expanding infrastructure — with dedicated exhibitions, collectible design galleries, residencies, and a growing base of informed collectors — underlines this structural shift.

And designers are responding: Vikram Goyal’s more accessible label, Viya, opened a Mumbai store last week, underscoring growing confidence in the domestic market. At IAF Design, several participants, including Galerie Maria Wettergren (France), Kunal Maniar (Mumbai), Kohelika Kohli Karkhana (New Delhi), and Morii Design (Gujarat), were presenting for the first time.

Morii Design
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

“The art fair’s evolution from a purely art-focused platform to one that acknowledges the strong overlap between art and design mirrors the way the world is thinking today,” says Kohelika Kohli, CEO of the multidisciplinary design atelier. “As audiences become more globally exposed and culturally informed, art is no longer confined to walls; it shapes furniture, objects and entire environments.”

Modern narratives

Mumbai-based architect-designer Rooshad Shroff believes design needs its own space, and that the growing number of platforms is good news. “I see India’s luxury landscape shifting away from overt branding and large-scale production, gravitating instead towards the handcrafted and the bespoke,” says the founder of the boutique firm RooshadSHROFF, whose installations at IAF used stone, metal and fine textiles, including his first exploration of upholstered furniture.

Rooshad Shroff’s booth
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

His sofas, armchairs and footstools were draped in fine cashmere. “The luxury connoisseur today is more perceptive, drawn to modern narratives that acknowledge history and heritage, and this shift, to me, reflects a deeper cultural perception of authenticity, craftsmanship and personal expression within the realm of luxury,” he adds.

Goyal’s The Measure of Life had brass objects that reinterpreted traditional techniques such as repoussé and inlay, taking inspiration from cosmology, nature, and Indian fables such as the Panchatantra. “The intention was to evoke communal tranquillity, a reminder that harmony is not the absence of tension, but the balance of multiple voices within a shared space,” he explains.

Harmony of the Heavens panel
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Vana; Gaja . The Elephant; Vyaghra . The Tiger; and Kurma . The Tortoise
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Studios such as Nitush-Aroosh pushed industrial materials in new directions, using stainless steel to shape sculptural forms. Using hydroforming and pressure techniques, they coaxed the metal into fluid forms. “We created works where the process remains visible, allowing each piece to exist not just as furniture, but as an object with its own presence and identity,” explains Nitush Mahipal, one half of the New Delhi-based design duo.

Close-up of embroidery from the Chanakya School of Craft
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Chanakya School of Craft booth
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Morii Design
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Kamala House Carpet at Aspura
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Culturally literate clientele

New York-based multi-disciplinary artist Ghiora Aharoni’s practice treats objects as vessels of memory. His presented works centred on Zamrud, an emerald reliquary in brass, as well as wall sculptures in Hindru, his invented visual language (that merges Hindi and Urdu). Across mediums, he blurred categories: art and design, object and text. The reliquary was both a sacred container and a household object; the script-like wall pieces functioned as visual poetry. He says visitors were extremely curious and knowledgeable, and that the reception to his work was “extraordinary”.

At Ghiora Aharoni’s booth
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement

Elsewhere, product designer Gunjan Gupta’s research-driven practice questioned India’s relationship with the chair — using vases, baskets, and stools in innovative ways. For instance, the Tokri Wala Throne captured the iconic imagery of tokris (baskets) carried by street vendors across India superimposed on a chair. “As collectors become more culturally literate, they are seeking depth over decoration,” she says. “The future of collectible design will reward integrity of process, collaboration and ideas that hold their ground over time.”

Tokri Wala Throne (left)

Space for the collectible

But is there really room for design at an art fair? There are some who wonder. As culture writer Gautami Reddy recently wrote in a piece for digital platform Ocula, “Art and design sharing the same platform was a recurring topic of conversation [at the art fair] and an obvious source of discomfort. ‘It’s probably a money decision,’ someone said.”

But others are keeping an open mind. “In recent years, art fairs have started making space for art historical material, often through booths organised by museums and institutions. Now that design seems to have found a footing at these fairs too, it will be interesting to see whether its own histories will begin to be presented in a similar way,” says gallerist Mortimer Chatterjee, of Chatterjee & Lal.

In a world of increasing intersectionality, can’t art and design sit side by side? After all, design booths are often an opening for first-time buyers to access works, and a gateway into the larger (and often more expensive) world of art.

The writer is a Mumbai-based journalist and author.

Representative image.
| Photo Credit: Akhila Easwaran

“Did you know that the Badaga community of the Nilgiris cultivates more than 12 varieties of avarai, or legumes, and incorporates them into their daily diet?” asks executive chef Narayanamurti of Sangamithrai, at Feathers Hotel, which is dedicated to celebrating native Tamil cuisine.

A few months ago, the chef and his team travelled across the Nilgiris, Kodaikanal, Yelagiri and Kolli Hills to study the food traditions of the tribal communities in these regions. What began as a research trip evolved into an immersive culinary journey. The team returned not only with new insights into indigenous ingredients and age-old cooking techniques, but also with a deeper appreciation of the nutritional wisdom and ecological sustainability embedded in hyper-local food cultures. Dishes from the region are being showcased at the ongoing food festival here.

T. Gandhi and his daughter G. Renuga, from Solur village in Udhagamandalam, Nilgiris, are presenting traditional Badaga delicacies at the food festival. “We are an agricultural community and therefore our cuisine is predominantly vegetarian. We grow potato, beans, carrots, cabbage, beetroot, knol khol, cauliflower and spinach in our gardens. White butter and ghee are also used extensively, as we raise buffaloes at home,” says Gandhi, who is well known in his community for his culinary skills. Renuga adds that their meals are largely built around locally-sourced ingredients. Erigittu (known as kali in Tamil) is their everyday staple. It is prepared in the morning, packed for lunch along with avara udhakka, a lentil and vegetable gravy, and carried to the fields before they begin their agricultural work.

Erigittu the everyday staple of the Badaga community
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

In a typical Badaga home, three ovens are built at floor level. One holds a large vessel of drinking water, kept constantly warm, while the other two are used for cooking. This traditional system not only ensures a steady supply of hot water but also helps keep the house warm in the region’s cool climate.

“Whether it is a festival or a special occasion, the sweet dish we prepare is always enneittu,” says Renuga. The dish is made by mixing maida, sugar and ripe banana, shaping the mixture into small balls and deep-frying them in oil. She adds that one of the defining elements of Badaga cuisine is their signature spice blend, hatti mas hudi, which is used in most dishes. The coarse powder is prepared using red chillies, coriander seeds grown on their farms, jeera, pepper, fenugreek, clove, cinnamon and hing, lending the cuisine its distinctive flavour and aroma.

Badaga farmers are known for practising mixed farming, cultivating millets, barley and wheat alongside vegetables such as potato, carrots and cabbage. As a result, their cuisine is deeply rooted in seasonality, with meals centred on locally grown produce. “Every meal includes keerai, or spinach, which is available in abundance. We also consume butter and ghee regularly. Every household will stock gaasu bathulu — potatoes that are washed, sliced, sun-dried and stored. They are later deep-fried and served as a side dish,” says Renuga.

Dinner began with a bowl of piping hot seval murungakeerai soup, an aromatic blend of country chicken and drumstick leaves, gently spiced with pepper and garlic. The comforting broth set the tone for a meal rooted in robust, regional flavours. The starters featured steamed tapioca, neatly diced and lightly seasoned, Solaiyaar dam-fried cutla fish, Valparai idicha kozhi and Valparai mutton chukka. The mutton, soft and tender, was flavoured with ginger-garlic paste, whole red chillies, pepper and fennel. Cooked slowly until succulent and then roasted with spices, the dish delivered a deep, earthy heat characteristic of the region’s cuisine.

Avara udhakka
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

From the Toda community came otti dur, a traditional staple of the tribe. The dish is prepared by cooking rice or millet in buttermilk with salt, then shaping the mixture into palm-sized balls. It is served with buffalo butter and a spicy garlic chutney, creating a simple yet deeply satisfying combination. Representing the Badagas was erigittu, made with ragi (finger millet) and rice, while Yelagiri contributed ragi roti to the spread. A Badaga-style mutton and potato curry served as the perfect accompaniment, its robust flavours pairing well with the millet-based staples. A surprise element in this segment was the pachai milagu rasam, distinguished by its sharp heat and pronounced garlic flavour, which added a lively, pungent note to the meal.

The dessert spread featured ennaittu, a laddu prepared with thinai (foxtail millet) and jaggery, offering a wholesome, earthy sweetness. Also served was simili urundai, made from peanut granules, rice flour and jaggery, a rustic treat that rounded off the meal on a traditional note.

More than a tasting menu, the festival was a reminder that hill cuisine is shaped by farming, seasonality and sustainability — a cuisine where land, climate and community remain central to every plate. The festival was not merely about indulgence, but about rediscovering hyper-local food traditions, celebrating indigenous knowledge and recognising the nutritional and cultural richness embedded in these regional cuisines.

@Sangamithrai, The Feathers Hotel, Manapakkam. On till March 1, lunch and dinner priced at ₹2250 (veg) and ₹2750 (non vegetarian). For reservations,call: 7358018812

Published – February 26, 2026 02:49 pm IST

It is 1am on a rather warm February night. The stretches of Neelankarai beach merge with Thiruvanmiyur beach. Fishing boats are stationed on the shore waiting for dawn. Bright lights from the city blind our vision. Sand in our shoes, salt in the air. Over 50 curious observers walk at a safe distance from the volunteers, letting them do their job: to find Olive Ridley turtle nests and collect the eggs for safekeeping.  

The Olive Ridley sea turtle, a species classified as ‘Vulnerable’ by the International Union for Conservation of Nature, has nested along India’s eastern coastline for centuries. Each year, between December and April, females return to shore, often at night, to breed. Left buried in open sand, the nests are vulnerable to predators such as dogs. Volunteers therefore walk the length of the shore at night to retrieve the eggs and relocate them to protected hatcheries, giving them a safe space to incubate.

Approximately 30 minutes into the walk, the group comes to a halt. Up ahead, the volunteers have stopped. One of them turns, lifts a hand gently, and asks us to stay back.

An Olive Ridley turtle laying eggs on the Rushikulya river mouth beach at Podampeta in Ganjam district on Bay of Bengal Sea’s eastern coast in Odisha.
| Photo Credit:
BISWARANJAN ROUT

A cluster of volunteers form a loose circle, their torch beams crossing over a single patch of sand. From where we stand, it looks like nothing. No turtle, no visible sign of life. Fifteen minutes in the dark feels longer than it should. Then someone waves us forward.

The circle parts carefully. V Arun from the Students Sea Turtle Conservation Network (SSTCN), a voluntary organisation that works with the Forest Department, is already on his knees, digging into the sand. A nest has been found. 

He digs into the nest, and starts retrieving soft shelled eggs that look fragile in a way that makes the entire beach feel suddenly hostile. It is small and covered in sand. One becomes five, five becomes 20, and eventually 82 eggs are pulled out of a 42cm deep nest. A few of them are deformed, some damaged, but it is a successful mission. 

An olive ridley turtle nesting close to the Thottappally harbour in Alappuzha in February this year.
| Photo Credit:
SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

“Some days we find many nests, some days we find nothing at all. We suggest that observers come for the experience, because engagement with Nature is important. You may happen to see a nesting turtle, which is the ultimate reward on a walk like this, but it may not happen at all. Wildlife is not something you can predict,” says Arun. 

The scale of the effort extends far beyond one night’s walk. According to a report in The Hindu, during the 2024–25 season, a total of 3,19,895 eggs were collected across Tamil Nadu. By April, 2,29,432 hatchlings had been released back into the sea. Cuddalore led with 81,622 hatchlings, followed by Mayiladuthurai with 38,582, and Chennai recorded 37,689 hatchlings.

But conservation along Chennai’s coast is not driven by numbers alone. It is sustained by volunteers, students, working professionals, and concerned citizens who give up their weekends to walk through the night. What began about five decades ago as a small volunteer effort has evolved into a quiet civic ritual. On any given patrol, first-timers walk alongside veterans who have been scanning these shores for years. Some return season after season. 

Forest department staff checking on the eggs laid by an Olive Ridley during the night patrol.
| Photo Credit:
VELANKANNI RAJ B

“Seeing it in person is very different from just reading about it,” says Rozaline Sherly, a 21-year-old Law student from Bengaluru. “When you actually walk the stretch and see how they check for nests, and also see the dead turtles, it makes you more aware. If more people knew about this, there would be a more conscious effort to protect the environment.” She points out that while conversations around conservation often circulate online, witnessing the labour behind it shifts perspective. Both she and her friend who are studying environmental and coastal regulations say ground-level exposure adds weight to the laws they read about in classrooms. 

Among the volunteers that night was Poornima, the head teacher of Marudam Farm School, Thiruvannamlai, who had brought along a group of 10 to 15 students. “The relationship with animals is very important for children. It is wildlife, and not something like a pet that is domesticated. That experience is important,” she says. She believes fascination must precede responsibility. In a world increasingly mediated by screens, she says, children need encounters with the unscripted, whether that is a turtle nest in the sand or a weekly Nature walk learning about trees and birds. 

Conservation along Chennai’s coast is sustained by volunteers, students, working professionals, and concerned citizens who give up their weekends to walk through the night. 
| Photo Credit:
Sangita Rajan

On-ground realities

For Supraja Dharini of the Tree Foundation, a Chennai-based marine conservation organisation that works with fishing communities across Tamil Nadu and beyond, conservation begins not on the sand, but within villages. “Whether you like it or not, it is the fishermen who are interacting with endangered marine species on a daily basis,” she says. Over the past two decades, her organisation has trained community members to patrol beaches, protect nests and manage hatcheries along hundreds of kilometres of coastline. The idea, she explains, is simple: those whose livelihoods depend on the ocean must also become its stewards.

Compared to the late 1990s, when he first began patrolling these beaches, Arun says more turtles are nesting within the city’s limits today. “If I say the numbers have gone up because of our effort, it will sound very plausible. But turtles are just concentrating where space is available,” he says. What has changed, he adds, is the vigilance. With coordinated night patrols and closer monitoring, fewer nests go unnoticed. On shore, at least, the margin for error has narrowed.

Citizen turtle walks are conducted during the nesting season by multiple groups along the city’s coastline. 
| Photo Credit:
Sangita Rajan

Supraja is candid about the larger pressures at sea. Trawling, she notes, is widely regarded as one of the most destructive forms of fishing, often compared to bulldozing the seabed. Regulations exist, but their impact depends on consistent enforcement and collective will. “The ocean belongs to every one of us. We should fight to protect it from over-exploitation,” she says. 

According to forest range officer R Kalaivendan, coordination between volunteer groups and the department is crucial. “Night patrols now cover the entire stretch of the shore, and hatcheries are monitored daily during peak season. We need manpower to carry out these tasks. Since the Olive Ridely turtle is a Schedule 1 species, the forest department is always involved,” he says, adding that while citizen participation plays an important role in awareness, enforcement of policies and monitoring remain central to reducing mortality along the coast, and in the ocean. “There is a special range officer team now which collaborates with the fisheries department and ensures that trawling remains banned during peak turtle nesting season. We would like to believe that because of increased efforts like these, the mortality rate this year stands reduced by 50%.”

With coordinated night patrols and closer monitoring, fewer nests go unnoticed. 

The scale of the effort extends far beyond one night’s walk.

 Left buried in open sand, the nests are vulnerable to predators such as dogs. 

On any given patrol, first-timers walk alongside veterans who have been scanning these shores for years. 

A dress from 145 East collection
| Photo Credit: Special Arrangement