Sacrificing trees at the altar of development

Lt Gen Baljit Singh (Retd)

Environmentalist

IN the run-up to the epoch-making Rio Earth Summit — a UN initiative that focused on environment, climate, development and above all combating ‘dangerous human interference with the climate system’— in June 1992, the Government of India tasked the late Dr MS Swaminathan (then president, World Wildlife Fund-India) to formulate the vision document and officiate as the country’s spokesperson at the summit. Nevertheless, the leader of the Indian delegation was then Minister of State for Environment Kamal Nath. In his introductory address to the delegates, Nath said: “It is imperative that environmental consciousness becomes a preoccupation with our people as no amount of government intervention can reverse ecological collapse.”

Contrary to the spirit of the Rio summit, he tended to shift the onus of preserving the equilibrium of global environment upon the common man vis-a-vis the governments charged with combating ‘dangerous human interference with the climate system’.

I recently recalled the minister’s statement while reading the disturbing news report (The Tribune, October 1) that the National Highways Authority of India (NHAI) had decided to axe 12,000 trees for a 17-km two-lane highway in Hamirpur district of Himachal Pradesh. The report said the NHAI had paid the cost (Rs 5.26 crore) of the trees to the Forest Department, which would auction the wood extracted and the NHAI would get the revenue thus generated.

A month has gone by since then without so much as a whimper — neither from the corridors of power that ought to model our civilisational progress in sync with rather than at odds with the forces of nature nor from the people at large whose lives and livelihoods have been severely impacted by nature’s fury in recent months. As a bystander, I have two episodes to narrate — one about an uprising by a remote Indian community to preserve its natural environment at any cost and the other about how a Southeast Asian country created mega infrastructure while being mindful of keeping nature’s legacy intact.

In the mid-1970s, while traversing the Thar desert, I camped for a few days in a small grove of trees on the outskirts of Sito Gunno village, about 80 km from Sriganganagar (Rajasthan). Photographing the attractive bloom of a tree species unknown to me, I met the village headman, who was also the guru of the Bishnoi community. He told me about those trees’ timeless legacy dating back to September 1730, when 363 Bishnois of Khejarli village (not far from Jodhpur) were beheaded for hugging and trying to protect their Khejri trees, which were required for the construction of a palace by the native chieftain.

The clarion call for volunteers to keep up the protest was led by Amrita Devi Bishnoi as “the Khejri tree was sacred in their faith and prohibited from felling”. Enraged by the defiance, Amrita and her three daughters were the first to be put to the sword, but not in vain as her last utterance that “a chopped head is cheaper than a chopped tree” so incensed young men, women and children from 83 surrounding villages that they came forth to hug the trees, undaunted by the prospect of losing their lives. Ultimately, the raja was moved to render a public apology, leading to the site of the massacre becoming a place of pilgrimage for the Bishnoi faith.

At some stage, a befitting, artistic memorial did get constructed on the site, where an annual local fair is held to this day. The Government of India instituted the Amrita Devi Bishnoi Environment Protection Award in 2013; the Environment Ministry declared September 11 (day of massacre) as the National Forest Martyrs’ Day.

Be that as it may, let us look at a leaf from the history of Singapore, a city-state. During World War II, almost its entire population was either killed or confined to POW (prisoner of war) camps; its infrastructure and ecological system were literally pulverised to rubble and dust. But Singapore rose like a Phoenix from the ashes to become the shining example of a ‘green’ state. In 1990, a friend shared with me a photograph of a plaque, suspended from the trunk of a tree, at the entrance of the Singapore Botanical Gardens with a timeless inscription: “A tree is worth $1,93,250, according to Prof TM Das of the University of Calcutta. A tree living for 50 years will generate $31,250 worth of oxygen, provide $62,000 worth of air pollution control, check soil erosion and increase soil fertility to the tune of $31,250, recycle $37,500 worth of water and provide a home for animals worth $31,250. This figure does not include the value of the fruits, lumber or beauty derived from trees; Just another sensible reason to take care of our forests.” The quote is attributed to ‘Update Forestry’, Michigan State University.

And of course, Alfred Joyce Kilmer has provided us with compelling motivation to value our ecological heritage:

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet- flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

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