The viral pink elephant image that sparked a debate
A towering elephant, painted an impossible shade of pink, stands against the muted browns of Rajasthan. A model poses on its back. The elephant, Chanchal, as we have now learnt, holds the frame.
In this picture that went viral on the internet, some saw art, others saw discomfort. But beneath the image lay a quieter, more pressing question.. where did this elephant come from?
The answer leads to a place just outside Jaipur, along NH-248, close to where the Aravalli hills take over. Here lies Hathi Gaon, literally, the elephant village, spread across 30.5 hectares in Kunda. It is, in many ways, India’s first planned settlement for elephants and the humans who have lived alongside them for generations.
Chanchal’s story: The elephant behind the image
Chanchal was not just a viral image, an advanced age for an elephant, and part of the Hathi Gaon ecosystem. Like many elephants in Jaipur, her life was intertwined with both tradition and tourism, with care and control existing side by side.
This relationship stretches back centuries. In India, elephants are never just animals.
In temples, in myths, in childhood stories, they appear again and again. The image of Ganesha in Hindu iconology alone has, to some extent, stitched the animal into the emotional fabric of the country.
In Rajasthan, elephants were once symbols of royalty. They carried kings into battle, and their bodies were painted in colourful designs of flowers, mandalas. Even today, that aesthetic survives.
At Hathi Gaon, body painting remains a form of grooming.
Unlike the heavy jewellery of the past, the focus now is on colour, temporary designs that wash away. The colours are mostly organic, made with flowers and dried vegetable peels.
However, for festivals and special occasions, elephants are still dressed in traditional ornaments like jhul, seeri, anklets.
On days like World Elephant Day, elephants are presented with a feast of fruits, jaggery, cucumbers, and sugarcane.
There is even a birthday sometimes.
One elephant, Junali, once cut a two-tier cake with her trunk while a crowd sang for her. That is how people showed affection.
But affection, as it turns out, is not the same as agreement.
What happened during the photoshoot that is now making headlines?
The viral photograph was shot nearly a year ago by travelling photographer Julia Buruleva.
NDTV’s investigation into the incident revealed that the elephant seen in the video was Chanchal, from the Hathi Gaon area.
Ballu Khan, president of the Hathi Gaon committee, clarified to the media that the colouring was done using gulal(a powdered organic colour used for Holi festivities), and was washed off within 30 minutes. According to him, it was temporary, harmless.
Yet, the image, the strange pink, is impossible to ignore. It became less about a photoshoot, and more about what people believed they were seeing.
Her final days — and what we know
Chanchal died last month.
Officials have stated clearly that her death was due to natural causes, with no evidence linking it to the photoshoot. At 70, she had already lived a long life.
But timing has a way of shaping narratives.
The photograph, followed by news of her death, created a surge of scrutiny. What may have once passed as a fleeting visual moment became a trigger, a question mark.
Was this art? Or was it exploitation?
The place she came from: Inside Hathi Gaon
To understand that question, one must return to Hathi Gaon itself.
When it was conceived in 2010, the intent was absolutely humane.
For decades, Jaipur’s elephants — many of whom ferried tourists up to Amer Fort — lived in scattered, inadequate conditions. Their keepers, the mahouts, often resided in cramped spaces and there was no formal infrastructure.
So the Rajasthan government stepped in.
Fifty-one houses were built first, for mahouts and their families. Alongside them came 70 enclosures designed for elephants, each meant to offer more space, better sanitation, and a degree of stability.
A large reservoir was constructed so elephants could bathe and cool themselves. Three special cottages were added.
By 2017, the Jaipur Development Authority handed over the village to the Forest Department, formalising its role in managing both welfare and regulation.
In Rajasthan, elephants once carried kings, adorned with painted floral designs. Photograph: (hathigaonjaipur.in)
Today, around 76 elephants live in Jaipur, many of them here. The main idea was to respect the emotions many Indians have for the pachyderms.
Hathi Gaon was not built as a tourist attraction. It was meant to be a residential solution, a structured environment where elephants and mahouts could live with better facilities.
Yet, over time, tourism found its way in.
Search for elephant experiences in Jaipur today, and you will find dozens of packages, ranging from Rs 2000 to Rs 5,500, or even more. They promise rides, feeding sessions, painting experiences, even curated lunches beside elephants. Many of these are not run by the mahouts themselves.
Instead, travel companies that operate within or around the village are creating a parallel economy of animal tourism.
Why this one image has raised bigger questions?
Across the world, the ethics of animal tourism are changing.
In parts of Southeast Asia like Thailand and Cambodia, there is a growing movement towards “no-contact” sanctuaries. Even photography is not allowed. The idea is to let elephants exist without human interference.
By that definition, Hathi Gaon sits in a complicated middle ground.
Elephants here are not wild, but they are not entirely free. They live in structured enclosures, cared for by mahouts whose livelihoods depend on them. It is hard to categorise.
For years, organisations like People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals have been calling for a ban on elephant rides in Jaipur, including those at Amer Fort and Hathi Gaon.
Their argument rests on law. They point to the Wild Life Protection Act, 1972 and the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Act, 1960, arguing that using elephants for rides and performances violates both.
There are also state-level regulations requiring permissions for using animals in films, advertisements, and events. These permissions are not always transparent. The regulations for using them as a part of cultural experience too are layered.
On one hand, Hathi Gaon is a genuine attempt at reform. It was a structured effort to improve living conditions for both elephants and mahouts. It acknowledges that these animals are part of human economies, and tries to make that reality more humane.
But now it has started to exist within a tourism ecosystem that is commodifying those very animals.
The future of Hathi Gaon may well depend on which of these becomes dominant.
There are already calls for clear guidelines, on what is allowed, what is ethical, what needs to change.
Many are now pushing for a complete reimagining of elephant tourism in India, because this animal has walked alongside Indian civilisation for centuries.
The hope is in the fact that this country is still trying to decide how to love its animals, without hurting them.
So, perhaps, the outrage on social media is justified.
