In the golden light of dawn, the rocky hills of Jawai glow, as if hewn from molten metal. My jeep winds past green fields of jowar, their feathery tips beaded with dew. Rabari herders, dressed in starched white turbans and bright red odhnis, guide their livestock across the meadows, their silhouettes etched against the rising sun. From the shadows of a granite outcrop, a pair of watchful eyes glints — a leopard, poised yet unhurried, surveying the kingdom it calls home.
Three hours from Jodhpur, I have made this remote wilderness my base for a few days, staying at the newly-opened Aaramgah Jawai Resort and Spa. And, on my plate is the taste of Rajasthan itself, dal baati churma, tomato sev sabzi, and panchkuta, a medley of five hardy desert vegetables, served with crisp makai rotis, prepared by the in-house chef.
But the true luxury here is Jawai itself – a raw, unfenced landscape where safaris are as much about the people as the wildlife. This is leopard country, home to one of the highest concentrations of wild leopards in India, with over 60 individuals roaming freely between villages, temples, and rocky hills and living in natural caves that dot the landscape, many of which are interconnected.
The terrain is a study in contrasts: rounded granite hills that look like giant boulders tossed by the gods, pockets of thorny scrub, glittering water bodies, and patchwork farmland where jowar, bajra, and mustard sway in the breeze.
Unlike the queue-bound confines of national parks, Jawai’s safaris unfold in this open, working landscape. Leopard sightings here are never choreographed — they happen in heart-stopping flashes: a spotted form leaping across a ridge, or a cat stretched out regally atop a boulder, silhouetted against a cobalt sky.
What makes Jawai remarkable is not just its leopard density, but the way people and predators share the land. The Rabaris, nomadic pastoralists with centuries-old traditions, revere the leopards as spiritual guardians. My guide tells me that even if a calf disappears, retaliation is rare; the cats are seen as protectors of the earth. This mutual respect has allowed them to thrive outside the limits of protected reserves.
As we drive, the boundaries between human and wild dissolve. In a single frame, I spot a farmer ploughing his jowar field, children waving from a mud-walled courtyard, and a leopard moving silently along a rocky ridge. Sometimes, the cats pass so close to villages, that they are glimpsed from a kitchen doorway or on the path to the well.
A small Shiva temple clings to the slopes, its white spire catching the sun above the village of Peherwa which hums with everyday life — women drawing water at communal wells, men chatting in the shade of neem trees, and children chasing each other barefoot along dusty lanes. Many times, leopards have been spotted on the long flight of steps leading to the temple, or under rocky overhangs.
Between game drives, I stop at a Rabari hamlet where women sit cross-legged on woven mats, embroidering vivid patterns onto blankets while goats nibble nearby. Over steaming cups of chai, they tell me the leopards have always been here. “They know us, we know them,” one elder says with a smile. Later, near the Jawai dam, I watch birds gathering in the shallows, their reflections dancing against the granite backdrop.
One evening, the resort arranges an elegant high tea by the Jawai dam, with my butler setting up a table set with fresh bakes, crisp pakoras, and masala chai in delicate cups. As I sip the tea, the water mirrors the changing sky, a crocodile suns itself on a rock, and the calls of waterbirds ripple across the stillness. Another afternoon, I clamber into a rugged Gypsy jeep for the bumpy ascent up Black Hill, a dramatic granite outcrop, with panoramic views across the valley, with fields, rock domes, and silver water bodies stitched together into a vast, living tapestry. Watching the sunset from here is a rite of passage in Jawai, and we are joined by some other jeeps.
Change is coming. More luxury lodges are springing up, drawn by Jawai’s growing reputation as a leopard-sighting hotspot and a slow travel haven. Yet for now, the region retains its soul, a place where granite hills hide secretive cats, where jowar sways in the wind, and where humans and wildlife still move to the same unhurried rhythm.
As the sun sets, the rocks turn crimson and the air cools. Somewhere in the hills, a leopard calls, a deep, rasping saw that echoes across the valley. In Jawai, the wild is never far away. Here, life belongs equally to predator and pastoralist, bound together by a quiet, enduring respect.
