Martin Goodman’s ‘My Head for a Tree’: A tribute to Bishnois & fierce love for nature

The Thar Desert sweeps through parts of Rajasthan, Punjab and Gujarat, occupying over 60 per cent of Rajasthan. Annual precipitation fluctuates widely, and summer temperatures soar to 50°C, bringing swirling dust-laden winds often blowing at 140–150 km/hour. Amid fragile scrubby vegetation, trees are few and far between, the most important being khejri (prosopis cineraria) because of its many benefits. The wildlife comprises blackbucks, chinkara gazelles, partridges, demoiselle cranes and quails.

The terrain is also home to the Bishnois, whose ethos is defined by 29 commandments issued by their founding guru, Jambhoji (1451-1536). Indeed, the word ‘Bishnoi’ derives from bis (20) and noi (nine) in the Marwari language; thus, they are the ‘Twenty-Niners’. Seven commandments teach good social behaviour, 10 address personal hygiene and health practices, four provide instruction for daily worship and eight are related to conserving and protecting animals and trees and encouraging good animal husbandry. The last-mentioned set of principles enables Bishnois to live harmoniously within the severe desert terrain. Environmental protection is at the core of their day-to-day life, with deep and lasting consequences for the community. One of the key events in their history is a well-documented massacre of 363 villagers led by a woman, Amrita Devi, in 1730. The villagers were preventing the king’s men from axing their khejri trees by hugging the trunks. The words she spoke before her head was chopped off would be recited by generations of Bishnoi women, men, and children: “Sar santey rukh rahe to bhi sasto jan” (My head for a tree; it’s a cheap price to pay).

Martin Goodman’s highly readable new book, ‘My Head for a Tree’, is a tribute to the extraordinary Bishnoi community. The author’s previous visits to India had led him to transformative experiences with spiritual leaders and sacred places. His new goal was to encounter people who dedicated their lives to protecting natural habitats. His quest led to the Bishnois, who took him to their homes and hearts and, indeed, ‘commissioned’ the book before a large community gathering in a way that Goodman could not refuse. From a base in Jodhpur, Goodman visited Bishnoi farms, homes, schools, temples, animal shelters, and even a village funeral. Born out of this experience, the book aims to narrate their story.

Goodman has written the story from his heart. As the narrative unfolds, the book’s key message becomes manifestly clear: protecting the environment, including trees, animals and birds, must function at an emotional level; it must be an internalised necessity for every human being. The refusal to harm trees and other fellow creatures must become a social norm. As Prof Peter Wohlleben observes in his Foreword, the Bishnois embody this attitude in its purest form.

The narrative begins, inevitably, with the Khejarli massacre of 1730. Goodman’s soliloquy at the end of the chapter is very interesting:

“Are twenty-first-century Bishnois prepared to put their lives on the line to save trees? They are.”

“Would I die to save a child? I’d hope so.”

“Do I love trees? Yes.”

“Would I die for one? Not yet.”

“But who are these people who would?”

For Bishnois, sacrificing life to save a tree is not passive but a fierce gesture. Attack what Bishnois hold dear, and they will come for you. Take Ram Niwas Bishnoi, who, at the age of 15, joined the ‘Bishnoi Tiger Force’ to protect trees from loggers and animals from poachers. Going unarmed against armed men, the Tiger Force fears no power, including Bollywood mega-star Salman Khan when they found him hunting on their land. Bishnois, such as Birbal and Shaitan Singh, sacrificed their lives to save chinkaras from poachers. Over the years, the Tiger Force has teamed up with the police, maintaining information networks to bust poaching and accompanying law enforcers to the remotest desert areas.

There are other stirring stories in the book: of Pooja, who runs a shelter for injured gazelles that are hit by motor vehicles or attacked by feral dogs; of Radheyshyam, who rushes to save the critically-endangered Great Indian Bustards that get caught on powerlines; of Ranaram, who toiled for 60 years against all odds to plant over 50,000 trees in the desert; and many more. Even Bishnoi children learn about their environmental duties early. Asked if he would sacrifice his life to save a tree, a young scholar tells Goodman that he would. “Trees are for all,” he says. “I am for just one family.”

The Bishnois have redefined how humans should interact with the living world in perhaps the bravest acts of nature conservation ever seen. They lead by example. We would do well to follow as best as we can. ‘My Head for a Tree’ is a must-read for every nature lover.

— The writer is the author of ‘Iconic Trees of India’