Away from the chaos, sitting unchaperoned under a canopy, on a deserted riverbank, enjoying the drizzles of monsoon, slurping a cup of hot chai and pakoda, I couldn’t help but look back at a time when I wondered why deforestation was a serious concern.
My mum always thought I did not care about trees or plants as I never showed interest in gardening. Nevertheless, I was completely aghast when the news of the felling of the banyan tree in my gran’s courtyard hit my ear. For over a hundred years the shadow of the tree guarded the house through thick and thin and warded off any evil spirits as tales tell. If the tree could talk, I would sit under it, lean on its strong trunk, and listen to its tales from the past of how my mum bravely fought off her fear of scorpions lurking around, sat around the corner, the tales the tree had witnessed for years.
Growing up in the western ghats, amidst trees and forests, I could not understand why deforestation should be a problem. Even in the middle of the town where I grew up, we always woke up to the chirping of bulbuls nesting on the jackfruit tree in our backyard. It was spoken about by old and young, television news panelists, radio jockeys far and wide. But it was when I moved to a city for higher education, realization struck me that, not everybody had a jackfruit tree in their backyard. Not everybody was fortunate enough to wake up to the tunes of bulbuls. My mornings now were deprived of the bird-songs and the fresh breeze blowing through my hair. And it dawned on me, ‘Deforestation is a real problem, the one that called for action’.
