Can Hyderabad Save its Rocks? 30 years of conservation efforts continue
HYDERABAD: Before the gleaming towers of the Financial District claimed Hyderabad’s western skyline, the city’s silhouette was sculpted by ancient boulders, some billions of years old, spread across the Deccan Plateau like the silent memories of deep time. Now, as cranes and concrete steadily consume these boulders, one organization has spent thirty years championing the idea that these rocks are not barriers to progress, but the very bedrock of it.
The Society to Save Rocks recently marked 30 years since its formal registration in 1996, a quiet but significant milestone for a group that has long fought against the tide of unchecked urban expansion in one of India’s fastest-growing cities.
The origins of the Society to Save Rocks trace back, somewhat unexpectedly, to a German lady who chose Hyderabad as her home. Frauke Quader arrived in 1996, settling in Jubilee Hills just as the area was shifting from a wild, rocky expanse to one of the city’s most sought-after residential areas.
“When Jubilee Hills was just coming up in the 80s, that is when she also shifted there,” says Sangeeta Varma, Vice president of the society in a exclusive conversation with HyderabadMail. “We started seeing the destruction all over Jubilee Hills and Hyderabad. That’s when some 22 people got together to preserve and protect the spectacular ancient granite formations of the Deccan Plateau.”
Though the grassroots work had already begun in 1990, the group was formally constituted as a registered society in 1996, giving it the legal identity and organizational structure to take its cause further. For nearly three decades, Frauke Quader served as the society’s secretary, the driving force behind its campaigns, walks, and documentary. Only recently, following the organization’s 30th anniversary, did she step back to take on the role of advisor.
To the untrained eye, a boulder is merely a boulder. To the Society to Save Rocks, it is an aquifer, a temperature regulator, a biodiversity anchor, and a piece of living geological history.
“Every element of nature has a role to play,” Sangeeta Varma explains. “Instead of breaking it down or removing it completely, why don’t we think of ways to make them inclusive?”
The society’s arguments are rooted in ecology as much as aesthetics. Hyderabad’s rock formations, part of the ancient Deccan belt, contain natural fissures and cracks that collect and channel rainwater into the ground, recharging the city’s underground water table. The rocks also guide surface water toward lakes and natural water bodies, or at least, they used to.
From natural aquifers to rubble
The case of Khajaguda Hills a.k.a Fakhruddin Gutta, is cited as a cautionary tale. Before the landfill of 2022, the rock formations on the Khajaguda hill naturally guided rainwater downslope toward the adjacent lake. The shapes and surfaces of the boulders acted as a passive drainage system, requiring no engineering, no maintenance, and no cost. After the landfill, that flow was interrupted. “If you go to Khajaguda now, you will see how low the water has become.”Sangeeta Varma explains.
Ask any long-time resident of Hyderabad’s older neighbourhoods, and they will tell you, summer in Jubilee Hills feels different from summer in the Financial District. The society believes these temperature differences are no accident.
“If you roam around the city, you’ll see, especially in summer, the difference in temperature, the temperature you will feel in even Khairatabad or Panjagutta versus the Financial District on the same day,” Sangeeta Varma points out. “Why is that so?”
The answer, the society argues, lies in the balance, or the absence of it, between built surfaces and natural ones. Glass-facade buildings reflect and trap heat. Paved surfaces radiate it. Trees, rocks, and open green spaces absorb and moderate it. As Hyderabad expanded rapidly, these natural buffers were among the first casualties.
Hyderabad’s ancient boulders disappear as real estate surges
“Every city has to expand because that is how growth is. You will need spaces for companies, and construction will be there, which gives employment. Everything is happening in parallel. But at the same time, we need to maintain the balance,” says Sangeeta Varma.
One of society’s most persistent challenges has been persuading builders and landowners to retain rocks on their plots rather than blast them away. The economics of inclusion are not always straightforward.
When a natural rock sits in the middle of a proposed room or corridor, the architecture must adapt. Floors may need to be split across different levels. Structural plans must be reimagined. All of this costs money, and many builders, and even individual homeowners, have been reluctant to absorb that cost.
Yet the society points to examples where the equations have worked. The Anti-Corruption Bureau’s office in the city has retained a large natural rock in front of its building, which now forms a striking centrepiece of its façade. “If they wanted, they could have removed it. But it is adding so much more character and aesthetics to that building,” Sangeeta Varma notes. “Why not other sites?”
When asked about the future of Hyderabad’s rock formations over the next few decades, the society’s response is measured but direct, the rocks’ fate depends on public awareness, and public awareness depends on public engagement.
“For any movement to be successful, it is important that the larger public becomes aware and joins hands in restricting their destruction,” Sangeeta Varma says. “We are not against development. We are in favour of these rocks becoming inclusive in whatever construction is done.”
The society’s vision is of a Hyderabad where clusters of rocks are preserved as community spaces, places for walking, rock climbing, meditation, birdwatching, and simply breathing cleaner air. They point to KBR Park as proof that such spaces are not luxuries but necessities, hundreds of cars park there every morning and evening simply because residents have no equivalent green space near their homes.
“We should not be saying once upon a time, there used to be rocks here,” said Sangeeta Varma. “People need to start asking for these kinds of spaces. We should tell the government that we need something other than a concrete jungle.”
The society’s message to Hyderabad’s younger generation is not political. It is, at its core, an invitation. “Connect with nature. Nature is extremely important. It is one of the best teachers we can have,” said Sangeeta Varma, adding that “When you start engaging in rock climbing, it teaches you how to focus, how to strengthen your limbs, how to balance, how to remain calm.”
Build connection
Beyond the physical, the society believes that this connection builds something less tangible but equally important, a sense of belonging to a place. Vandalism, indifference, and neglect, they argue, grow from disconnection. When people do not feel attached to the landscape around them, they do not feel the need to protect it.
“Why are we scribbling on rocks? Why are we painting things on them? It’s because we do not feel the need to conserve. We take things for granted.”
The antidote, Sangeeta Varma suggests, may be as simple as climbing to a quiet spot on the rocks, for instance, Khajaguda Hills a.k.a Fakhruddin Gutta, early on a summer morning, sitting in stillness, and watching the city wake below. “Choose a nice, quiet spot on the rocks, sit and meditate. When you get up, just see what a change there will be in your mood.”
