Have you ever walked into a 300-year-old stepwell in Gujarat? The air is suddenly cooler, the stone walls damp with memory. For a moment, the chaos outside vanishes, replaced by silence, trickling echoes, and the feeling that generations before you stood right there.
Now imagine this same stepwell restored, lit by solar lamps, and explained by a local guide who tells stories passed down by her grandmother. That’s not just a tourist visit. It’s a living lesson in how Indian culture and heritage can sit comfortably inside modern ideas of sustainability.
When people talk of heritage, they often picture monuments-the Taj, forts, palaces. But the truth is, Indian culture and heritage is lived daily: the Warli murals on Maharashtra’s mud walls, bamboo houses in Nagaland designed to survive storms, or earthen pots that keep water cool without electricity.
These are not “old-fashioned” relics. They are practices born out of balance-between people and nature, between need and restraint. In many ways, they are sustainability before the word existed. If revived and respected, they offer blueprints for sustainable development in India that no imported model can match.
On a recent trip to Rajasthan, I stayed not in a hotel, but in a haveli restored by locals. My breakfast? Bajra rotis cooked on firewood, jaggery tea, and vegetables grown in the courtyard. My room? Cooled by thick lime-plastered walls, no air-conditioner humming through the night.
It felt like time travel. But it was also the future. Because here, heritage and sustainability weren’t clashing-they were complementing each other. Isn’t that what we mean when we talk of a sustainable India?
In Kutch, Gujarat, I met Rehana, a weaver. She works on a handloom passed down from her grandmother, producing shawls with intricate designs. Her dyes are natural-indigo, turmeric, madder roots. “The colours last longer,” she says with a smile, “and they don’t poison the rivers.”
What struck me wasn’t just her skill but her pride. Younger villagers had once left weaving for city jobs. But through green tourism programs, travellers now visit her workshop, buy her shawls directly, and even learn weaving for a day.
The result? Rehana earns steadily, visitors carry a piece of culture home, and her village continues weaving traditions without choking dye waste. Isn’t this what sustainable tourism in India was meant to look like-heritage giving both livelihood and lessons in sustainability?
Some believe green tourism is only for eco-resorts with hefty price tags. That’s not true. It could be as simple as choosing a homestay over a resort, walking instead of taking cabs, or joining a local craft workshop instead of buying factory souvenirs.
Every small choice adds up. A backpacker in Kerala eating on banana leaves instead of plastic plates. A family trekking in Himachal who bring their trash back down. A group of students learning pottery in Khurja rather than buying machine-made ware.
These moments turn green tourism into lived action, not marketing slogans.
In Varanasi, I met Arvind, a boatman. He said, “Motors kill the river. But people come to me for silence.” He rows tourists at dawn, narrating myths of the ghats. No diesel fumes, no blaring engines-just oars and stories.
This is Indian culture and heritage at its purest. It earns him a livelihood, preserves tradition, and leaves the river breathing easier. It also shows why sustainable tourism in India cannot just be about resorts-it must include people like Arvind.
Let’s be honest: in our chase for development, India has lost balance. Skyscrapers rise while baolis crumble. Plastic floods rivers while handwoven baskets gather dust.
But think about this: what if sustainable development and India didn’t mean copying Western skyscrapers, but reviving our own wisdom? What if restored forts doubled as eco-hotels, rain-fed stepwells supplied towns, and craft clusters became engines of rural jobs?
That’s not just preservation. That’s practical economics with cultural dignity.
Of course, challenges exist. Overcrowding damages fragile sites. Sometimes “eco-tourism” becomes greenwashing. Locals often feel excluded when outsiders profit from their traditions.
Solutions? They’re simple, if we care:
Because if communities aren’t central, heritage becomes performance-not pride.
Each of these is heritage. Each is sustainability. And together, they remind us that sustainable development in India doesn’t always need new inventions-it often just needs remembering.
Most conversations about heritage and green living focus on rural India. But what about cities? Urban India too can draw from tradition. Delhi’s old havelis with courtyards are cooler than many modern apartments with glass facades. Traditional jaali windows filter sunlight without blocking air. Even food-millet rotis, seasonal vegetables-are healthier for bodies and lighter on resources than imported diets.
Urban planners often overlook this. But if modern housing copied old principles of ventilation and insulation, cities could cut energy use drastically. Sometimes the answer to pollution isn’t a new machine-it’s an old design waiting to be rediscovered.
Here’s the other layer. Tourists today aren’t looking for just selfies at monuments. They want meaning. A German tourist weaving khadi in an ashram. A Japanese student sketching Ajanta murals. An American family staying in a mud house in Kutch.
This is cultural diplomacy. This is soft power. When Indian culture and heritage is combined with sustainability, the world doesn’t just see India-it learns from it.
At The United Indian, we believe that a sustainable India isn’t about copying Western blueprints. It’s about recognizing the wisdom already in our soil. The future isn’t in demolishing old homes for glass towers-it’s in restoring them to breathe again. Not everything about farming was meant to be mechanised. Ask an old farmer and he’ll tell you about seeds wrapped in cotton cloth, tucked inside an earthen jar. The smell of it-dusty, warm, full of promise for the next monsoon. That wasn’t just agriculture, it was memory.
And balance isn’t in grand policies alone. It shows up when a haveli breathes again, when a potter finds buyers for clay instead of plastic, when a tired tourist picks a mud house over glass towers. These choices whisper the same truth: heritage isn’t against the future. It may be the only way the future survives.
And here’s the real question we must ask: if we abandon our roots in the race for growth, what kind of future will we even be left with?
1. How does Indian culture and heritage connect with sustainability?
Many traditional practices-like stepwells, handlooms, and natural dyes-were eco-friendly by design. Reviving them can inspire sustainable lifestyles today.
2. What role does green tourism play in sustainable development in India?
Green tourism reduces environmental damage, supports local communities, and ensures heritage sites are preserved rather than exploited.
3. Can sustainable tourism in India benefit rural communities?
Yes. When travellers choose homestays, workshops, and local guides, money flows directly into villages, creating jobs while keeping traditions alive.
4. What challenges does India face in linking heritage and tourism?
Over-tourism, greenwashing, and neglect of local voices are key issues. Community involvement and strict eco-certification can address them.
5. Why is preserving Indian culture and heritage important for the future?
Because heritage is not just about monuments-it holds eco-conscious wisdom and identity that can guide India toward a more balanced future.
#weareunited
Sep 01, 2025
TUI Staff
Aug 19, 2025
TUI Staff