06
Dec
Regeneration of hope (Conservation Convictions)
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A man made forest fire had swept through Bandipur NP and Wayanad WLS only a few days ago. In two days (14th and 16th of March 2014) it had laid waste to 110 ha in Wayanad and 500 ha in Bandipur. Fifteen days later, I drove through clumps of bamboo and swathes of lantana, burned crisp. Parts of the corridor that we had painfully acquired and were about to give back to the forest department lay charred.
Top: A termite hill stands lone testament amidst lantana burnt to a crisp in Bandipur National Park.
Bottom: An ash mound where previously stood a clump of bamboo, in Bandipur National Park.
Photos: Vivek Menon / WTI
Bottom: An ash mound where previously stood a clump of bamboo, in Bandipur National Park.
Photos: Vivek Menon / WTI
There were at least four separate fires lit by someone who had planned the deed to perfection and had targeted those stands of bamboo that had flowered a couple of years back and were now a tinderbox waiting for a light. All along, park managers and NGOs bemoaned the loss of forest, of life, of the futility of trying to stop the flying embers, of the folly of keeping bamboo post-flowering in an un harvested condition and the incessant pressure of a clamorous media.
Photo: Vivek Menon / WTI
While life was springing amidst the ashes, my mind wandered to the great hatred that the communities of the region had against the forest. This seemed particularly true in the case of Kerala in the wake of the Gadgil and then Kasturirangan report on the Western Ghats. While bemoaning this literal fire, the conservation community was perhaps ignoring the larger fire that was consuming the community and the forests.
Surveying the burnt patches of Wayanad Wildlfie Sanctuary with a forester. Photo: WTI
Are we turning away from the flames that are lapping away at our protected areas from within and encircling it from the outside. Will Wayanad, where even two years ago 800 ha of land were encroached by politically backed settlers, allow for green tendrils of hope? I search today, amongst the fresh hutments of encroachment, in the raped land of my ancestors, for a sprout, a shoot, a shout of hope. Of resurgence.
