Extreme weather, both rain and shine, is reshaping daily life for Nanda Gawali women, who undertake many critical and often invisible tasks within the roaming community.

Wardha, Maharashtra: “Pani jorat aal ki chulha bhijtat.”

“When it rains heavily, our chulhas get soaked,” said Rekha Asole (27), drying her clay stove outside a hut in Shirpur village of Maharashtra after a night of intense rain in early May.

“Many times, we have to sleep hungry,” she told 101Reporters.

In the first week of May, Wardha district of the state recorded 106 mm of rainfall, the highest for that month in a decade, according to the India Meteorological Department.

For families like Asole’s, from the Nanda Gawali pastoral community of Maharashtra’s Vidarbha region, who live in tin-roofed huts on open farmland during the seasonal migration known as Varhad, sudden downpours bring with them a crisis. 

Asole’s hometown is Chopan village in Wardha district, from where she migrates 27 kilometres to Shirpur each summer with her family and livestock.

Rekha tends to her cattle outside the hut on the farm (Photo - Shailaja Tiwale, 101Reporters)

“We had brought a small gas stove, so I made some chapatis and ate them with leftover sabzi,” Asole said. 

Normally, the women cook outside. The cramped huts can’t accommodate both people and fire. When it rains, they cover the clay chulha with vessels or plastic sheets, but the damp still seeps in. Lighting a wet chulha is slow and difficult, especially when firewood or crop waste has gone soggy.

“Sometimes we have to burn plastic or old cloth just to get the fire going,” said Rajkanya Sathe (23) from Danapur village of the district. “The smoke is unbearable. Our lungs feel exhausted from blowing and blowing.”

“There is nothing pleasant in Varhad,” Asole added. “Na paani, na unha – neither the rains nor the heat give us relief.”

Rekha makes khoya on a chulha, struggling with the searing heat that scorches her skin as she sits close to the fire (Photo - Shailaja Tiwale, 101Reporters)

Dampened income

Cooking is not the only task affected by the weather. Spoiled milk means wasted income: especially since milk is the primary source of livelihood for these pastoralist families. 

Asole’s family is among nearly 700 households that undertake Varhad every year.

The Nanda Gawlis, native to the Vidarbha region, rear Gaolao cattle and Nagpuri buffalo. In the dry months between February and June, fodder and water shortages push them to migrate with their livestock, walking over 25 kilometres and settling temporarily on farmlands. In return for manure, they receive grazing rights and access to water.

The pastoral economy is held together not just by the cattle, but by the women. While the men tend to the animals, women manage the site, cook, care for children and calves, and convert milk into ghee, butter, and khoya: a condensed milk product that fetches nearly double the price of raw milk.

But heavy rain makes khoya production nearly impossible. Boiling 30 litres of milk a day, the average yield from a family’s herd, requires five hours of continuous stirring over a flame. A single downpour can ruin that effort. “If the milk sticks or burns, the khoya smells smoky, and no one will buy it,” Asole said.

Leela Sathe (43) from Danapur said she normally makes 2 kg of khoya daily. On days she cannot, she loses Rs 700 to Rs 800 in income.

During migration, Nanda Gawali families stay alone on remote farmlands, with no immediate support available in case of emergencies (Photo - Shailaja Tiwale, 101Reporters)

Struck by heat

If rain disrupts income, the heat endangers health. Wardha recorded 44.7°C in April this year: among the hottest in the state. 

Women spoke of drained bodies, pounding headaches, and burning sensations while urinating: all signs of dehydration. “Making khoya feels like it drains the blood from your body,” said Rajkanya Sathe.

Some women make khoya twice a day, once in the morning and again in the evening. 

Asole, for example, begins her day before sunrise. She processes the previous day’s milk, churning butter, separating buttermilk, filling cans of fresh milk, and curd. Then she starts boiling fresh milk over a large fire, reducing it to khoya. “Once the sun is up, sitting near the chulha becomes unbearable,” she said.

Rekha hurries to wash utensils in the open farm before the midday heat becomes unbearable (Photo - Shailaja Tiwale, 101Reporters)

The work requires constant stirring over a wood fire for up to five hours. Even under a thatched shed, the heat hangs thick. Women said they often feel dizzy or nauseous but have no option but to keep going because work does not stop because of sickness. Most women said they avoid seeking medical help, even when unwell. “We take some medicine, wrap ourselves in a shawl, and start again,” said Meerabai Awathale (58). “If I don’t do it, who will manage the house, the milk, the khoya?”

During migration, families like hers live in isolated fields, far from their villages and have no access to ASHA workers or basic healthcare.

In early May, a 26-year-old woman from the Nand Gawali community died suddenly at one such site. She was alone at the time.  “People said she had worked in the afternoon heat, which might have caused it,” said Prafulla Kalokar of the Gaolao Breeder Association. “But without a postmortem, the cause remains unknown. People need awareness about climate risks and how to prevent such incidents.”

Seetabai Asole from Wardha district sets out to sell milk and milk products as the morning heat begins to rise (Photo - Shailaja Tiwale, 101Reporters)

Fighting the climate alone

Women in the community said they know little about heat’s impact on the body. They are unaware of the signs of heatstroke or precautions that could help prevent heat-related illness.

Ritu Parchure, Senior Research Fellow at Prayas Health Group, said extreme heat can strain multiple organs, especially in those with pre-existing conditions. “Many deaths occur due to heart, lung, or kidney issues worsened by heat. Women exposed to both smoke and high temperatures for long hours must be made aware of these risks,” she said.

Despite such gendered health impacts, climate policies often fail to account for them. A study in The Lancet noted that global climate governance mechanisms still neglect gender-specific health concerns, even though these are recognised by United Nations bodies like World Health Organization and United Nations Population Fund. Another study pointed out that climate change impacts men and women differently due to biological, social, and cultural factors, and warned that in countries like India, it could worsen existing gender-based health disparities. 

Integrating gender into climate and disaster policies, the study concluded, could reduce these health risks.

Rekha Asole lives in a small tin shed during migration in Shirpur village (Photo - Shailaja Tiwale, 101Reporters)

Unequal risks 

For women in pastoralist communities, the health risks are high, but the financial returns remain limited.

Despite doing most of the work turning milk into marketable products and often selling them, younger women rarely control the income. “When women go out to sell milk or khoya, it’s usually the older women who handle the money,” said Prafulla Kalokar of the Gaolao Breeder Association. “The younger daughters-in-law have little or no say in how the earnings are used.”

According to Kalokar, an average family earns Rs 40,000-Rs 50,000 per month during the migration season. But after deducting fodder and veterinary costs, profits drop by nearly half.

The heat adds to the burden. Tin-roofed huts become unbearable by mid-morning. “We can't even sit inside after 10 am, it feels like a furnace,” said Asole’s mother-in-law Seetabai (65). Her family moves to a thatched shed during the day, but it offers little relief during peak summer.

Without access to cold storage during migration, Rekha wraps butter in jute to prevent it from melting in the rising heat (Photo - Shailaja Tiwale, 101Reporters)

The rising temperatures also strain livestock. Cattle, tethered in open fields, are watched over by men in makeshift shelters. But much of their care falls on the women. “When cattle fall sick, it’s our job to feed them, give medicines, and keep an eye on them,” said Rekha. Calves are tied near the hut, requiring extra attention shade in the afternoons, shelter during rain, and constant access to water.

A study in The Lancet confirms what women like Rekha already know: extreme heat weakens cattle immune systems, reduces appetite, and increases disease risk.

Sajal Kulkarni, Director of the Centre for People’s Organisation, said pastoralist communities like the Nand Gawalis are especially vulnerable to climate change. “Shifting weather is disrupting grazing, migration routes, and cattle health,” he said, adding that the lack of disease data in these communities makes it harder to build responsive support systems.

Seetabai Asole from Wardha district churns buttermilk in the morning (Photo - Shailaja Tiwale, 101Reporters)

Shrinking balance

In addition to managing the family’s income, women like Asole are also responsible for everyone’s well-being at the migration site. Only elderly women stay behind in the village during school season. Once the holidays begin, the entire village joins the men.

“Guransathi manus lagato, gharchi kaam karayla bai lagate” — men are needed to tend the cattle, and women to manage the home, Asole said.

All of this is unfolding as the migration itself becomes harder each year.

With shrinking grazing lands, tightening forest access, and changing relationships with landowners, families are finding it harder to sustain the old routes. “Earlier, farmers would even pay us to settle on their land,” said Ramraoji Asole (75), Rekha’s father-in-law. “Now we’re just told where to stay and asked to leave early if it rains too much.”

There is little formal record of these shifts. The Gaolao Breeder Association has tracked 357 families from Wardha’s Arvi and Karanja blocks, but migrations also occur from Amravati, Yavatmal, Nagpur and Bhandara” regions with no official documentation.

While pastoralism in India is often imagined through male herders, the invisible labour, and now the impact of climate change, falls disproportionately on women. 

This project is supported by the Internews Earth Journalism Network with funding from the Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency (Sida)

Cover Photo - Rekha Asole from Wardha district struggles to light a chulha after unseasonal rain left it soaked (Photo - Shailaja Tiwale, 101Reporters)