July 1 – 14, 2004

By Sathya Saran

MY neighbours spent June 5 cutting down the trees in my colony. There are 120 or more of them, duly numbered, and yes, some of them needed a haircut. But my all-knowing neighbours, who believe that the trees in the colony have cut out the sunlight from their yards, and have played host to all kinds of birds including egrets, cormorants and koels that "are a menace", decided that the best way to restore peace to a sylvan colony was to make every tree into a tall, armless trunk.

I DISCOVERED this after about 15 trees had been denuded of their foliage and all their branches, and am fighting to save the rest at least from mutilation.

ON June 5, I also saw that the road widening authorities had removed two of the many massive trees that line the Eastern Express Highway. They have exposed two more venerable ones to the elements and are probably hoping the sun will do the rest.

ON June 5 too, a panther decided to invite itself to a marriage feast. Of course, it had not turned man-eater yet, but was concentrating on the dogs. And one poor canine paid with his life for the folly of government apathy and personal greed.

THE fact that wildlife, the little that is, continues to venture into territory that is not its own, and is moreover inhabited, only implies that there is not enough food and water for it in its own habitation. And that the area that was once its roaming fields has been occupied by man.

EVERY day, I drive through large stretches of mangrove borderland, and watch how slum dwellers are spreading themselves on to the mangroves. As are the slumlords, and the big land barons... who think nothing of plunder-ing ecology to fill their already heavy coffers.

OF course, the corporation and the officials concerned are too lethargic to worry over something that looks like marshland that supports a few kilometres of shrubs. 'Biological diversity' is not a phrase taught in schools, and is not a catchword used in homes either. Money is.

LOOKING down on Mumbai from an aircraft, I often realise that the sinking feeling in my stomach has nothing to do with the fact that we are landing. It has to do with the fact that all I see is a mass of brown slum roofs, and tall buildings nestling so close that claustrophobia is unavoidable.

WHEN I took my first flight out of Bombay (as it was called 25 years ago), I could see tall buildings and slum roofs, but there was also enough green to make me wonder how the trees survived in a city that was 50 per cent concrete.

TODAY, I do not need to wonder. The green is almost gone. Despite the efforts of a few dedicated NGOs, only a few patches of green are visible from the sky.

OF course, now with the monsoons, Nature will spread out its green carpet over the denuded hills, and the still empty patches of land that form the few playgrounds, but we all know it is a mirage that will pass as the October sun shines bright.

DOES nobody care? Does no government stop to think of saving this city from becoming an eyesore? With overflowing dustbins, endless inhabitation, and treeless suburbs?

IS it Mumbai's fate to be raped and plundered and left to languish... and finally turn into an urban wasteland?

THAT's what I spent the days after World Environment Day wondering about.