Ever wondered what makes Goa one of the greenest states in India? Why have most other coastal towns not been able to retain their green cover while Goa is still blessed with verdure?
In his memoir A Walk up the Hill – Living with People and Nature, Madhav Gadgil explores many such significant questions. The book is not only his own story, but also a deep study of Indian environmental movements that provides insights into the culture of India’s peoples and tribes, raises a voice against the hegemony of powerful industrialists and governmental bodies, and includes amusing anecdotes on nature research.
As one of India’s foremost environmentalists and the eponymous head of the Gadgil Commission, Madhav Gadgil’s life is rich with varied experiences. Through the book, readers get a front-seat view as Gadgil tastes raw crab with local fisherfolk, partakes of sweet plant-sucking bugs for dessert in Manipur, spends a night up a Ficus tree in the Mukurthi region of the Nilgiris, conducts numerous Environmental Impact Assessments all over India, yells at the mining mafia, and butts heads with the forces of crony capitalism.
Rachel Carson observed in her book The Sense of Wonder that “The years of early childhood are the time to prepare the soil” and Gadgil’s life is a great example of how an interest in nature is honed at an early age. His father Dhananjay Gadgil, while an economist, was also a keen birdwatcher. He prepared the metaphoric soil of “emotions and impressions” about nature in the young Madhav. As a child, Gadgil accompanied his father on bird-watching walks on Vetal hill in Pune. Encouraged by his father, who was a friend of Dr Salim Ali, he wrote to the Bird-Man of India about his observations on the green bee-eater bird. He went on to nurture a lifelong friendship with Dr Ali.
{{/usCountry}}Rachel Carson observed in her book The Sense of Wonder that “The years of early childhood are the time to prepare the soil” and Gadgil’s life is a great example of how an interest in nature is honed at an early age. His father Dhananjay Gadgil, while an economist, was also a keen birdwatcher. He prepared the metaphoric soil of “emotions and impressions” about nature in the young Madhav. As a child, Gadgil accompanied his father on bird-watching walks on Vetal hill in Pune. Encouraged by his father, who was a friend of Dr Salim Ali, he wrote to the Bird-Man of India about his observations on the green bee-eater bird. He went on to nurture a lifelong friendship with Dr Ali.
{{/usCountry}}Aged seven, he accompanied his neighbour, the anthropologist Irawati Karve, on an anthropological survey to Kodagu, where he was fascinated by the elephants and the sacred groves of Talakaveri. From Karve, who prized fieldwork over other forms of research and from his father who was a keen proponent of the cooperative movement, he inherited a deep love for the grassroots.
Gadgil reminisces about the times he spent with his parents around the Sinhagad fort, amidst the beautiful black buffaloes of the Dhangar Gavlis, while sharing fresh buttermilk with the herders. With such a stellar introduction to nature, little wonder indeed that he chose to be a field ecologist!
Coming back to the question of Goa’s greenery, Gadgil tells us that it can be attributed to the village-based community management system followed in the state. The management of the commons is the responsibility of the village community called the gaonkari. Since the local people understand and have a vested interest in the commons, they are best suited to conserve natural resources and sustainably manage their forests.
Gadgil’s respect for the wisdom of the locals runs like a shining thread through the book. He shares numerous examples of how ecologists can learn from the experiences of farmers, fisherfolk and other communities that live close to nature. He highlights the prudence of allowing traditional systems of forest management and laments that the Forest Department often restricts forest-dwelling tribes from accessing protected areas for foraging and hunting.
The Forest Department and many nature lovers operate on colonial ideals of conservation. Also called Fortress Conservation, it is the assumption that forest-dwellers are somehow responsible for greedy overutilization of forests and that forests/protected areas must be shepherded by central committees.
In Gadgil’s words, “I thus grew up to be rather different from the usual brand of urban nature lovers, who view the local people, their farms and livestock as the principal enemies of India’s nature. I, on the other hand, admired the buffalos as much as the gaur and was equally at home with the farmers and the buffalo-keepers as with the scholars of Pune”.
Gadgil narrates an example of the Bharatpur wetland, which was one of the first wildlife sanctuaries to be created after independence. The wetland hosted herons in the rainy season and a multitude of migratory birds in the winter. The land was also used by the local people for grazing their cattle and harvesting khus grass. When the wetland was elevated to a national park, the rules forbade the locals from grazing. The policymakers did not give a thought to how it would affect the livelihoods of the locals. The sum effect was that it led to protests and violence. It also turned out that the buffalos had been acting as a deterrent to the growth of water-loving grasses and water hyacinth. Without any grazers, the grass grew unchecked and reduced the desirability of the wetland for the waterfowl!
On the contrary, when forest-dwellers have the responsibility of natural resource management, the land fares much better! From countries like Switzerland to villages in the district of Gadchiroli, this model has been applied at various places with astounding results and Gadgil goes over these case studies in detail.
His gift to the Western Ghats – the report of the Western Ghats Ecology Expert Panel was exemplary in that it gave due thought to forest dweller communities. The book takes us through how the WGEEP report, also called the Gadgil Commission report was formulated and the criticism it faced.
A Walk up the Hill is by no means an uphill walk for the reader. In spare prose, Gadgil takes us through 20 chapters dedicated to specific areas of focus. Every chapter starts with a verse – sometimes a limerick, sometimes a verse from a religious scripture and sometimes penned by Gadgil himself. I was pleasantly surprised to come across a pleasing parody of Lewis Caroll’s song – The Walrus and the Carpenter setting the tone for the chapter titled Managing Bamboos.
Despite the challenges faced by conservators today, Gadgil ends the book on a hopeful note. He doesn’t wholly agree with the American conservationist Aldo Leopold who said, “One of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wound.” Instead, he places his hopes in the next generation. With India on the brink of being a superpower, Gadgil has faith that scientific advances, emerging technology and the hearts of the new generation will turn the tide towards a sustainable world.
Yashodhara Sirur is a part-time writer and full-time IT professional based in Mumbai.