HIMACHAL'S ENVIRONMENT DOESN'T NEED MORE STUDIES- IT NEEDS FIRM ACTION- NOW!

 Governments never cease to surprise me, but they occasionally intrigue me, as in the two recent announcements by the Himachal govt. The first, in the middle of the devastating fury of the ongoing rains which has already claimed more than a hundred lives and inflicted damage worth more than Rs. 2000 crores, stated that a Central team would be arriving soon to assess the causes for such disasters every year. The second was the revelation that the World Bank has approved a Rs. 2000 crore project to study the environmental impacts of hydel projects, particularly in the Beas river basin, and to suggest mitigating measures.

This is not just an example of shutting the stable doors after the horses have bolted, this amounts to opening the spillway after the dam has burst, to use a phrase appropriate to what is happening to the hydel projects in the state. For the fact is that the devastation, ruin and deaths that are occurring with frightening regularity every year now are something that experts and environmentalists have been warning about for more than a decade, but successive governments have refused to heed.

It is no coincidence that the so-called "cloudbursts" always occur in areas where there is, or has been, extensive and unscientific cutting of hills, deforestation, ramming through of roads, unregulated building activity, and construction of hydel projects. The most egregious and destructive has been the epidemic of four-lane highways- a goldmine, no doubt, for the NHAI, contractors and general officialdom, but highways to hell for the residents of the state. The millions of cubic meters of excavated earth and debris inevitably find their way to the rivers and water courses, constrict their flow and carrying capacity, and result in flooding and the misnomer "cloudburst". Continuous subsidence, erosion, landslides, building collapses follow in its wake. These activities, along with denudation of the green cover, have robbed the mountains of their capacity to absorb and hold the rainfall, which thunders down the slopes as run-off, with horrific consequences.

We don't need expert committees, hosted at the expense of a bankrupt state, to identify what is going wrong with the environment: the reasons are there in plain sight, carved on the denuded, crumbling mountain sides- stop the rape of the rivers, give up this maniacal fascination for more and more roads, cancel all four-lane projects, protect the green belts and forests, regulate construction with an iron hand (and Yogi's bulldozers, where required). Pay attention to the fact that GSI (Geological Survey of India) has identified 17000 landslide-prone zones in the state. Recognize that climate change is now a reality which has arrived, it will exacerbate rainfall patterns, there will be more EWEs (Extreme Weather Events). Concentrate on sustainable planning and not reckless development at all costs. Send back the central expert committee, Mr. Chief Minister- the answers don't lie with it, they lie in your office, in your files. Listen to the local citizens- those who have been opposing needless road construction, airports, hydel projects and multi-storeyed commercial projects, denotification of green belts, those whose lands and houses are getting washed away by your obstinacy, those whose family members are entombed in mud in the middle of the night.  Trust them, not your mercantile advisors..

The second announcement about environmental impacts of hydel projects in the Beas basin is even more mystifying. Firstly, such a study should have been carried out BEFORE, and not AFTER, allotting the 359 hydel projects (operational and planned) on the Beas and its tributaries. Secondly, the environmental impacts of such projects are already known, and have been for the last 15 years. In 2010 the then Addl. Chief Secretary(Forests), on the directions of the High Court, had submitted a detailed report, listing out the deleterious and damaging impacts being witnessed today: muck dumping, unscientific cutting and blasting, weakening of the mountain strata, deforestation, reduction in carrying capacity of rivers, the need to restrict the number of hydel projects on a particular river, the necessity of cumulative impact assessments for the whole river basins instead of for just individual projects, declaration of no-go areas for hydel projects. The report was accepted by the High Court but was fiercely opposed by the state government and was quietly buried. Thirdly, no further study is required to identify these environmental impacts- they have been happening with frightening regularity every year- the whole stretch of the river from Manali to Mandi has been  devastated and looks like Gaza- and are self evident. There is little point reinventing the wheel at a cost of Rs.2000 crore- exhume the 2010 report, get additional inputs from geologists and hydrologists, and implement the recommendations. The World Bank study appears to me to be just a smokescreen for avoiding any substantive action, and is simply kicking the can further down the river.

Neither of the two studies or inquiries is needed, and the state govt. certainly doesn't have the money to pay for them. Instead, the government should commission studies on factors which have grave portents for the future of the state: the changing precipitation patterns, changed hydrology of the rivers, melting of glaciers, formation of glacial lakes which pose a danger to downstream areas, carrying capacity of major tourist destinations, a Cumulative  EIA (Environment Impact Assessment) of the Chandrabhaga basin before proceeding to sanction another 4000 MW worth of projects on it. These studies will reveal  how our geology and environment are being altered, and are necessary for all future planning. It should also heed the dire warning issued by the Supreme Court last week on a PIL, having ignored everyone, including its own citizens for decades: "Entire Himachal Pradesh may vanish soon; Revenue Earning can't be at the cost of the Environment." 

Translated into simple English, that means that the time for post mortems is over, what is needed now is immediate and decisive action.

WHEN ONLY LOVE REMAINS

 I have just returned from my hometown, Kanpur, after severing the last remaining physical link with my late parents, with the tangible legacies of my dad and mom. My mother passed away in 1994, my dad joined her in 2017. He left behind a lovely flat in a multi-story development, in which he had spent the last years of his life, lonely most of the time, but content and at peace in his otherwise downsized world.

This flat contained the possessions he and my mom, and we (as children), had accumulated over the years, and not one of them was less than fifty years old! These included British time crockery, a Garrard music player with vinyl records, hundreds of books (mostly mine), furniture from Calcutta and Assam, an assortment of walking sticks. He had hoarded them lovingly, getting them cleaned and polished regularly, for would his children not inherit them some day? They were precious to him, not just because he had laboured to acquire them over a lifetime, but because they would go to his children after him.

That was never going to happen, of course. The flat was being sold, and we all had enough bric-a-brac of our own, accumulated over our own lifetimes, for our own children! Where was the space to take over my dad's stuff in our metro flats in Mumbai and Noida, where each square foot of space cost Rs. 100,000 and  Rs. 10000/-, respectively? So we gave everything away- the records whose music had once suffused the flat with lilting tunes, the books which had made holidays in Kanpur so pleasant and relaxed, the table at which I had prepared for the civil service exams, the dining table on which my mom used to serve the delicious "atta ka halwa" and "gobhi ki subzi" which were, and still are, my favourite fare, the harmonium on which my late younger sister learned her music. All big slices of our past, all indelibly associated with my mom and dad and our childhood. All now gone. I have retained only a few books, one of Papa's walking sticks, his battered briefcase, and a set of crystal Johnnie Walker glasses, which I had bought for fifteen rupees from the Jama Masjid Sunday market in 1971 and had gifted him for his birthday. They will have to suffice till I retain my memory of him.

The compulsions of "modern" life have no time for the sentiments of the past, these are weaknesses that detract from our algorithm based, market driven vision of a material valhalla. And that precisely is the point of this blog: there is a lesson in my experience, for all of us, all those adrift in the 70+ boat, most of us in sight of the harbour, or the reef, as fate would have it. As parents we spend too much time, resources and emotional capital, and deny ourselves, in collecting things to leave behind for our children. It's a waste of parental love, a mortgaging of  present needs for an envisioned but uncertain future. For nothing we leave behind will endure- the house will be sold (if not fought over), the money in the bank will be divided ruthlessly by some chartered accountant or lawyer and spent on trips to Bali or Biarritz, the clothes will go to charity, everything else will be given away. Nothing will remain but memories, and it is on those that we twilight dwellers should concentrate.. I am reminded of these haunting lines from an anonymous poet:

If I take nothing with me,                                                                                                            May I leave behind something beautiful-                                                                                    A memory, a kindness, a warmth in the hearts of those I've met.                                                So that, even when my road ends,                                                                                                Love remains.

POST SCRIPT.

I make it a point never to end any piece on a somber note, lest the reader fling himself off his 22nd floor balcony in despair; and so I must confess that I did take one other object from my dad's flat- the album of photographs of my marriage with Neerja. (That was in 1977, I think, but I can't be sure since my long term memory is no longer what it used to be). There were no digital albums in those primordial days, no smart phones; only "still" photos which had to be pasted in bulky albums. I've appropriated my wedding album, not just for sentimental reasons, but as an abundant precaution to prove my marriage with Neerja. In these days of "certificate raj" there is no saying when proof will be demanded that I am not living in sin with her. Hotels and OYO have already started demanding this, and the time is not far off when banks, landlords and RWAs shall follow suit. "Marriage vigilantism" will be the latest addition to cow and citizenship vigilantisms. Didn't someone say that eternal vigilantism is the price of freedom? Better to be prepared, no?

But I'm taking a big risk bringing this album home and reminding Neerja about our marriage. She has had many second thoughts about these nuptials over the last 48 years, about the wisdom of having plighted her troth to me in an LSR moment of weakness. How will she react to my bringing home documented proof of what she sometimes considers the "biggest mistake of her life"? Maybe I'll hide the album under the dog's bed. As they say in the Pakistan Punjab - "Better to be Saif than Suri."

THE WRITER'S CURSE-- AND BLESSING.

[This piece was published in the TRIBUNE on 27.07.2025 with some minor editing.] 

It's a tough time to be a writer or wannabe author in India these days. If you write against the government you are likely to be stripped of your citizenship, and if you support it you'll be in Arnab Goswami's B team, or sharing a room with Sambit Patra in Gujarat Bhavan.. Or , even worse, you could end up like Ms Tavleen Singh whose sacerdotal efforts at the altar of the presiding deity of Indian politics didn't pay off- her son lost his citizenship anyway. So what is one to do? The safest course, I feel, is to do a Chetan Bhagat and write only about " The Girl in Room 105" or  pen motivational stuff with misleading titillating titles, like that other bestseller "The Subtle Art of not giving a "F--k." You will, of course, find neither the girl nor the "f--k" but your persistence in trying to do so till the last page will ensure that a couple more million copies of the books will fly off the shelves, quicker than you can say Man Force. 

   The other problem I've encountered is this: what does one write about ? History is a prohibited zone, because the RSS and Mr. Dinanath Batra have already started re-writing it, with novel inputs provided by the Supreme Court, no less, in some of its judgements. Mythology is no longer available as Mr. Amish Tripathi has already mined this seam till there is nothing left to explore there but the question: was the live feed of the battle of Kurukshetra conveyed to Dhritrashtra via Netflix or Amazon Prime or Hulu? Sardar jokes are a no-go area, like the area around Parliament Bhavan, as those poor chaps from JNU found out a couple of years back; the mountains have been denuded of all their tales by Ruskin Bond; the British era has been subjected to repeated biopsies by Shashi Tharoor and William Dalrymple; nobody reads about sports these days because everyone is hooked on to biopics; romance is nowadays confined to Twitter and Instagram and has to be compressed into 140 words: who has time for a novel? War books are unlikely because even though Messers Modi and General Munir both threaten it nobody is actually pressing that blue button anytime soon. Moreover, no two Indian generals can ever agree on whether we won or lost a war, including Haldighati. One potentially promising area is memoirs by bureaucrats, and quite a few are now rushing to the printers, having suddenly remembered their stellar contributions in pushing us onto a 8% growth path. But they are bogged down with their training, confusing "penal" with "penile" ( as in the Indian Penile Code), conclude each chapter with " submitted for approval, please" out of sheer habit, and think that "analogy" is the study of assholes. Their tomes do seem to bear out the unkind observation of Christopher Hitchins that everybody does have a book in them, but in most cases that's where it should stay!

   Why do chaps persist with writing, given the hardships involved? You just have to attend every literary festival to be noticed, which is pretty tough considering that they have now started organising them even in dumps like Jhumri Tilaiya and Kotkapura where the infant mortality rates are probably higher than the literacy rates. Nobody there will recognize you anyway because they are too busy either drooling over Shashi Tharoor and "Pyjamas" Dimple Kapadia or shouting slogans against Salman Rushdie. You'll never make it to any best seller list because of Amish Tripathi: he's the BJP of the Indian literary universe with an almost two-thirds stranglehold. What is the Competition Commission doing, and why is he not being hauled up for monopolistic practices, or at least for forming a cartel with Chetan Bhagat who takes up most of the remaining slots? Both should be banned from writing for at least three years so the rest of us can keep the wolves, if not the cows, from our doors.

   Ruskin Bond once said that India has more writers than readers, which explains why the publishers act like capos. Influenced by our TV channels, they insist on the seamier stuff. One guy in Daryaganj I submitted a proposal to did to my manuscript what dogs down the ages have been doing to lamp posts, and then advised me instead to write a kiss-and-tell book about politicians I have worked with, replete ( he suggested with a wink) awards of dubious contracts, girls in rooms other than just 105, booth capturing techniques (this was before the age of the EVM which has rendered all previous practices obsolete) and other such staples of governance. It would, he assured me, sell like   "Hot Kates"- I presume he meant  hot cakes but I'm not sure: maybe he wanted a hot Kate in there between the pages if not the sheets. It appears that my books are as popular as ice cubes in the North pole: the royalty cheques I receive once a year look like Yogi Adithyanath's compensation cheques for UP's farmers, rarely exceeding double digits. Sometimes I wonder, did they even print the books ?

   But maybe I'm being too harsh on them, going by my own family and friends. Now, I have a fairly large extended family, even if I were to discount the guys who are either in judicial custody or have

 jumped bail, and they can also read though writing requires more effort. Members of my social circle are more law abiding and some of them even pay their taxes. But very few of them want to buy my books- they expect them to be dished out as gifts, never mind that it's nobody's birthday or wedding anniversary! I guess it's the effect of this new Amazon/ Swiggy culture of getting every thing at discounted prices or totally free, and I should be happy that nobody is demanding "cashbacks" ! But really, I don't mind giving them away- nobody's buying them anyway- but then I rarely get any feedback either. Nobody tells me whether they liked the book or used it as printed toilet paper. Except, of course, from the good wife who is never lacking an opinion or the urge to express it. I asked her about my last book and Neerja replied:
 " Uh, you really want to know?"
 " Sure," I replied cheerily, though not very truthfully, " I've always valued your advice."

 " OK, then, two comments: one, there are far too many conjunctions."

 " What's wrong with that?" I queried, "the idea is to stitch the story together. Conjunctions are good."

 " Nope, the road to Hell is paved with good conjunctions."

 I digested this Sadhguru type statement: " What's your second observation?" I asked, hoping for a more positive review this time. I was about to be disappointed.

 " Your style belongs to the coitus interruptus school of writing," she intoned.

 " Huh? What exactly is that supposed to mean?" I shouted.

 She was calmness itself, like a school teacher talking to a naughty child.

 " See," she explained," you use too many punctuation marks, especially the exclamation mark. It disrupts your rhythm, interrupts the flow, and delays the gland- sorry, I meant grand- finale."

    I'm still trying to figure that one out. Was she talking about my writing style, or did she have something else in mind? You never know with women ! ( Sorry for that exclamation mark).
   So why do I keep writing stuff that no one reads and not seek reemployment as an Advisor to the Minister for Open Defecation Free Himachal? Well, its partly because my net-working skills resemble those of Obelisk, and partly because the queue of retired Chief Secretaries lined up for the job is longer than the line outside the Moolchand metro's Sulab Sauchalaya, but mainly because , as some wise man once said: You are what you write. He was spot on, you know: writing bilge is better than advising about it!

   

THE CASINO IS RIGGED, LONG LIVE THE CASINO !

The oldest (and most disregarded) secret in the world of gambling is that you cannot win against the house. The decks are stacked, the cards are rigged and the slot machines are fixed. Oh yes! the casino will let you win once in a while, just so that you swallow a little more of the bait and keep returning to be ripped off. The house, folks, always wins. Which describes perfectly the state of our elections these days, after 2019.

What is happening with the SIR in Bihar, even as I write this, is the final turn of the roulette wheel: the Opposition (the real Opposition, I mean, not the Mayawatis, Owaisis, Kishores or Naveen Patnaiks of the world) will henceforth never be allowed to win an election, general or state. A few seats here and there, yes, maybe even a few inconsequential states, to keep the dumb charade going, but never a House- Vidhan Sabha or Lok Sabha: the House belongs to the croupier. No amount of petitions, meetings with the Election Commission, writs in the Supreme Court, grandstanding photo-ops outside Parliament, or threats ("We are coming after you") is going to change this inevitability. Maharashtra and Haryana were the prototypes and appropriate lessons were learnt from them- adding spurious votes is not enough, stuffing EVMs after 5.00PM is not enough, deleting a few thousand votes is not enough, the judicial pusillanimity regarding VVPATs is not enough; more work was needed to make matters fool proof.

And so the final product-the electoral Bramhastra, as it were- is on display now in Bihar. Make the nationalistic Citizenship issue the mechanism and excuse for getting rid of those pesky communities and classes who don't vote for the BJP and its allies, be selective in the desired documentation; Aadhar will do in the right wing areas, thank you, but in Seemanchal we need to see your birth certificate, and that of your parents. The motto being: show me the face and I will show you the document. Five million have already been disenfranchised, according the the ECI's own figures.

The Supreme Court will hear the matter on the 28th of this month, but don't hold your breath- the jurisprudence of the "fait accompli" will come into play and the loaded dice will keep rolling. The Election Commission knows this- it has already asked all states to prepare for an all-India roll-out of this grand larceny of democracy. At the most the Court may mandate the acceptance of a few more ID markers, but it's always the dealer who calls out the cards and numbers, and they are usually tucked up his sleeve. In the Supreme Court the SIR will go the way of the EVMs, VVPATs, paper ballots, procedure for appointments of Election Commissioners.

The Opposition will never win again. It has only one path before it in order to save democracy-drink of the poisoned chalice and boycott all elections until this casino is shut down. It must take the bull by the horns, and not by the tail as it has been doing so far. As Debasish Roy Choudhury says in an interview with Karan Thapar on Friday (which should be compulsory watching for all who value our democracy), by continuing to participate in elections which are rigged and which they know they cannot win, it is only legitimising the elections and the winning regime. A boycott will take away this moral legitimacy, in the eyes of most countrymen and the international community. That will the first step to restoring the old sanctity to the whole process.

The Opposition has failed, thanks to its own ineptitude, avarice, lust for power and out-size egos, and the abject surrender of all our constitutional institutions, including the courts. The Opposition, therefore, is no longer a player in this game-it can at best now be a coach. The actual players have to be the citizens of India, whose right to select a government of their choice is being stolen. They must be persuaded to boycott the elections too, to show the world how the elections in India now resemble those of Rwanda, where the President Paul Kagame, won with 99% of the votes. The world, of course, doesn't give a damn about Rwanda, but can it ignore India, the world's largest democracy which has historically been the beacon of democracyfor the post colonial world?

Country-wide boycotts may lead to civil unrest, which is not necessarily a bad thing, as Jayaprakash Narayan's Sampurna Kranti movement against Mrs Gandhi had shown-it finally led to her being ousted from power. A boycott could be a curtain raiser to something similar. This applies equally to civil society organisations like ADR (Association for Democratic Reforms), CCG (Constitutional Conduct Group) and others- they too have to espouse and campaign for the cause of the boycott. They have written enough letters to the Government and Prime Minister and Election Commission, and issued their fair number of press releases, to no effect: they too have to change course. As Debasish says: when your house is burgled, you don't write a letter to the burglar, you go to the police! And the police here are the people of India- We The People. It is time to turn to them.

TIME TO DECLARE AN "INTERNATIONAL DAY OF HATE"

 This is the age of empty symbolism, make-believe and the suggestio falsi. Our revered Prime Minister goes trotting around the globe intoning "This is not the era of war" like a metronome, even as he almost started a war on his own doorstep, and repeatedly abstained from voting to stop two wars which have killed tens of thousands already. The European Union calls for "dialogue and diplomacy" even as it continues to arm and fund a country which is committing a genocide not seen since the Holocaust. Trump calls for peace and demands the Nobel Peace Prize in the same breath that he pulverizes Iran with the Mother Of All Bombs. Nearer home, the RSS says we should not look for a shivling under every mosque even as it eggs on its followers to do exactly that. The Election Commission says no  voter shall be left behind even as it imposes policies that will disenfranchises millions of voters in just one state (to begin with).

You get the point, don't you? It needs a Shakespeare to describe this global perfidy and hypocrisy: this  "killing with kindness" or "smile and smile and be a villain." And so it is with the various Days we are asked to celebrate every second day- Yoga Day, Doctor's Day, Father's Day. Don't for a minute doubt the intent, dear reader- the purpose is praiseworthy, if proforma, but the irony is unmistakable. For what we celebrate  on day one, we repudiate on the remaining 364 days of the year.

So we celebrate Father's Day even as we strip the old codger of all his properties and banish him to an old age home where he rots in his own excreta. Doctor's Day only reminds me of how one gets ripped off in corporate hospitals by unnecessary tests, astronomical ICU charges and "consultation fees" for informing me what I will get for lunch. On Teacher's Day we are exhorted to sing a paean for our teachers just before we lodge an FIR against them for "hitting" a student with a ruler. We celebrate World Heart Day even as we gorge on adulterated paneer, baby food with impermissible sugar levels, and cooking oils with carcinogenic additives, all presided over by an unconcerned government. 

But wait, it gets even better if more acerbic and cynical. October 2 is the International Day of Non-Violence, and nations observe it religiously (yes, even the USA and Israel) while 110 wars/armed conflicts rage around the world, all instigated by the very governments that flag this day. March 3 is the International Wildlife Day, celebrated even as we have ensured that 500 species of vertebrates have gone extinct  in the last hundred years, and 15000 more are under grave threat due to human activities. Wild animal populations have been decimated by 60% since 1970. The 2nd of December is celebrated as the International Day Against Pollution even as we are on the verge of breaching the 2* Celsius red line for temperature increase, and 7 million people die of air pollution every year (of which 2 million are in Viksit Bharat).This is not just hypocrisy, it is sanctimonious, deceitful, humbugging on a global scale.

It is in this context that last week I received a suggestion from a WAF ( Whats App Friend) who, in his saner moments, is a very successful manufacturer of high-quality cosmetics. He suggested that the UN should now declare an International Day of Hate. His reasoning makes sense: the leit motif and zeitgeist of the world today- of national leaders, religious preachers, societies, generals, media (including social media)- is the emotion of Hate. Subaltern emotions such as Greed, Jealousy and Violence are the offsprings of hate. Just look around, or turn on the TV, and you will acknowledge that my WAF is bang on.

Hindutva types hate the Muslims, the Jews hate the Palestinians, Iran hates the Jews, China hates the Tibetans and Taiwanese in equal measure, Putin hates the Ukranians, the Sudanese hate each other, the Rwandans hate the Congolese, the Taliban hate women, Pakistanis hate the Balochis, Turks hate the Kurds, RWA types hate the slum dwellers. Donald Trump, of course, is the most eclectic and indiscriminating of the lot, he hates everyone and everything- Europeans, Asians, Islamic nations, liberals, Communists, non-binary genders, immigrants, environmentalists, judges. Arnab Goswami comes a close second to him.

In many countries which still retain a veneer of civilisation, laws do not allow this universal and all pervasive feeling of hate full public expression. But it is constantly bubbling under the surface, like the molten lava in a volcano, with occasional eruptions. According to my friend, it would be good public policy to allow this volcano to vent itself, to permit the de-facto to become de-jure. Hence the need for an International Day of Hate, when the haters can reveal themselves in their full glory and ugliness: no more dog-whistles, veiled references, obiter dictas, Prime Ministerial insinuations or vapid diplomatic niceties. They can, as the Beatles sang, "let it out" without fear of any consequences. In the words of a famous Madame- what you see, dear, is what you get!

Some country, of course, shall have to take the lead in implementing this visionary idea, and no one is better qualified these days than our own Bharat Mahan. For we appear to have elevated Hate to the level of public policy, a societal aspiration and a religious commandment. Over the last decade hate has embedded itself in every aspect of governance, education, institutional structures and social intercourse. Initially founded on religious biases and dogmas, it has now metastasized across the board- language, festivals, regions, educational syllabi, media, entertainment, legislations, even citizenship-  there is now no aspect of daily life in India which is not poisoned by this venom. Even our diplomacy is now coloured by this emotion, as our callous approach to the genocide and ethnic cleansing of Palestinians demonstrates so well.

According to a report in the India Cable dated June 27, 2025,  The Association for Protection of Civil Rights and the Quill Foundation has documented 947 hate-related incidents in the country during the first year of the present NDA govt's third term. Directed at minorities, this includes 602 hate crimes and 345 instances of hate speech; the perpetrators are rarely, if ever, punished.

No other democracy is as uniquely qualified as India to move a resolution in the United Nations for the declaration of an International Day of Hate. By doing so, we will have ripped apart the curtain of hypocrisy and deception that characterises all such Days, and will have loudly proclaimed that this is a New India. One which is prepared to venture into the heart of darkness to satisfy the lust for power, to self-destruct in order to rule for ever. For, as Satan said in Paradise Lost: It is better to rule in Hell than to serve in Heaven.

As for me, the only day I heartily endorse is Shobha De- and she might even get more votes than India's proposal. 

THE DAY THE MAGPIES LEFT

 For six months of the year, confined in my NCR flat like a Trappist monk, the only birds I get to see are pigeons, which have now become the ubiquitous symbol of urban avian life. But for the other six months, when I repair to my cottage in Puranikoti village near Shimla, it's a completely different world. 

The dozens of trees I and my family have planted on my land as a post-retirement penance over the years to atone for my large sarkari carbon footprint- weeping willows, horse chestnuts, oak, deodar, robinia, chinars, apple, plum, cherry, pears, kainth- have now come of age and are repaying our efforts in ample measure. They provide a dense vegetation and fruits/ seeds/ flowers which now attract many varieties and species of birds, which are all the company one needs at this stage of one's WhatsApp dominated life. Their social media type chattering, the bird songs at dawn and in the evenings, the ambience created by their happy presence alone, has been very well expressed  by a poet:

I sit in my garden, gazing upon a beauty that cannot gaze upon itself. And I find sufficient purpose for my day.

My avian friends are of two types: the first are the permanent residents (termed "bona fide Himachalis" in govt. parlance!) who stay on my land throughout the year- sparrows, bulbuls, tits, blackbirds, whistling thrush. Because of their established tenancy status on the land, they assume a familiarity with me bordering on contempt, literally taking the food off my plate! (See photo below). I have no choice but to grin and bear it.

                                         [Bulbul joining us for morning tea. Photo by author.]

The second type are the seasonal visitors, more cautious, not sure of their welcome or of what they can expect. Among them are the swallow, swift, barbet, silver-winged blackbird, songbird, and the graceful, long-tailed Himalayan magpie. Each species has its temporal slot and arrives when its fruit of choice is ripe for eating. They are not selfish and do not overstay their welcome- a sojourn of a few weeks and they depart, vacating the slot for the next species, having stripped the trees of whatever fruit was on the chef's special. I don't mind at all- what they give us in the short time they dwell with us is much, much more than what those fruits would have fetched me at the local "mandi."

Last year, however, was a landmark year for me, for a pair of Himalayan magpies decided that they had had enough of globe-trotting and that it was time to start a family before the EMIs started piling up: they settled down and started nesting in a dense grove of trees on one corner of my land! (see pics below). This overt expression of trust in us was a quiet vindication of all our efforts over the years to create a safe and secure environment for our feathered friends. In due course of time they built a nest and laid two eggs, just before we departed for the NCR for our six month exile.

                                   [Long-tailed Himalayan Magpie. Photo by author]

We returned this April, to the sight of FOUR magpies- two adults and two offspring- frolicking on our land, their tenure in the grove now converted to adverse possession, if not deemed ownership, like a retired politician in Lutyen's Delhi but without the sense of entitlement! It was a delight to see them flying around the whole day, like trundling helicopters- the Himalayan magpie is not a good flyer- picking up insects, earthworms and the cherries and apples from our trees. I feed them every morning: the smaller birds are happy with bread crumbs and rice grains, but the magpies have a preference for  Haldi Ram's namkeens, which is what they get! In due course of time, unbeknownst to us, the female laid three more eggs on an oak tree in the grove.

         

           [The grove where our magpies nested. Photo by author]
 

We came to know of this only when, one day, one chick fell from the nest and was grabbed by a feral cat. Brutus-our Indie dog- spotted this immediately and pounced on the cat, forcing it to drop the chick. We picked up the little bird, examined it for any injuries (there were none, but the poor thing was traumatised no end, as can be expected). We kept it in a warm room for two days, fed it rice and milk; all the while its parents staged a 24x7 dharna outside the room in the manner of Arvind Kejriwal, demanding the release of their little one. Finally, on the third day, assured that the chick had recovered fully from its ordeal and it was time again for its anxious parents to take over its nurturing, we carefully put it back in the nest, where the other two chicks were none too welcoming, of course, at the thought of having to share their snacks with another mouth! The two adults were overjoyed, of course, but quickly chased us away.

Tragedy struck the very next day. Taking our evening stroll, we found the half-eaten body of a magpie chick about 100 meters from the grove. A quick check of the nest confirmed what we feared but did not wish to acknowledge- it was empty. It was clear what had happened: the cat which had discovered the nest had not forgotten it even though it had been thwarted by our dog the first time. It had returned, and the three chicks- still unable to fly- never stood a chance. Cats are ruthless predators of small animals, especially birds. A 2022 study estimated that cats kill 55 million birds in the UK every year!

Our magpie family was desolate- they repeatedly circled the grove without alighting on it, making plaintive cries. That night, they disappeared and we have not seen them since, even though it's been more than a week as I write this. It is clear that they have abandoned our place; our hearts go out to them, rearing a family in the wild is a Herculean task, and to have laboured so long at it and lose it all in a moment is so unfair.

But I am now haunted by a more disturbing question- were we at fault, somehow? Could we have been more proactive in protecting the nest and the chicks? Should we have put that third chick back in the nest or should we have reared it ourselves? There are counter questions too: Could we have reared a wild creature without robbing it of its "wildness"? Could we have taught it how to fly and forage for food?  How far can one go in meddling in the lives of essentially wild creatures? Should we intervene or let nature take its course? I am afraid there are no easy answers.

The question that haunts me most, however, is this- have the magpies left out of a sense of betrayal, that we reneged on our implied promise of giving them security? Will they forgive us, and return some day? Will they give us a second chance?

OVERTOURISM AND UNDER-PLANNING

 

                                  

The Deputy Commissioner Shimla announced last Tuesday that 300,000 vehicles had entered Shimla in the last two weeks due to the tourist rush. That is 15000 vehicles per day. Shimla has parking for just about 5000 vehicles, and if we assume that a tourist family/group stays for just two days, the daily parking requirement is for 30000 vehicles- six times what is available. (This does not include the locally registered vehicles numbering about 70000!)

The situation is no different in Dehradun, Nainital, Mussoorie, Manali, Dharamshala and other hill stations. And it’s getting worse every year.

The tourists, of course, suffer, stuck in jams for hours, sometimes for nights, without food, water or toilet facilities. Half their vacation time is spent on the roads. The real and continuing price, however, is paid by the permanent residents of these once quiet, idyllic, British-era towns, who are practically imprisoned in their houses for half the year, with no space left on the roads even for walking. I live near Mashobra, about 12 kms from Shimla for six months every year, and have decided to never, but NEVER, drive into Shimla during my stay here-there’s no telling if I’ll ever be able to make it back to my house!

States like Himachal and Uttarakhand bear the brunt of this vehicle-driven overtourism; their proximity to the northern states is their undoing, while Kashmir is spared the deluge because of its distance and the on-again, off-again security situation there.

The state governments should have foreseen this, with tourist numbers growing by 43% ( 2023 figure over the previous year),rising incomes, and the desperation of families to escape the heat and pollution of our deteriorating cities. But the governments never planned for this nightmare, content with collecting their GST and Luxury taxes. And when they did start making some plans, they were all the wrong ones.

 

The biggest planning blunder has been the construction of expensive, environmentally disastrous four-lane highways and expressways in the mountainous terrain of Himachal and Uttarakhand to reduce driving time and make access easier for tourists. This has led to an explosion in the number of vehicles coming to these destinations: before the Parwanoo-Shimla four-lane highway was built (it is still not complete, even after ten years!) the average number of cars entering Shimla every day was about 4000 to 5000- it is now 15000 to 20000. And when these vehicles enter Shimla there is just no space for them to park. It’s even worse in Manali, with 25000 vehicles crossing the Atal tunnel (below Rohtang pass) every day during peak season. The state govt. is a silent spectator: it took the National Green Tribunal (NGT) to impose a daily cap of 1500 vehicles for the Rohtang pass to prevent it from becoming another Karol Bagh, in more ways than one. It looks like it will have to step in again, given the state government's paralysis!

The Shimla and Manali mistake is now being repeated, with Mussoorie being the victim this time. A 26 km elevated expressway has been approved to connect Dehradun and Mussorie: we are told this shall reduce the driving time to just 26 minutes. This is a disaster in the making, even without the 17000 trees that will be felled and the 250 families who shall be displaced by the project. The Shimla/ Manali experience shows that the number of vehicles headed for Mussoorie shall triple or quadruple; what happens to them once they reach Mussoorie? The town has even less parking space than Shimla, and can barely accommodate those who come just to meet Ruskin Bond!

Bureaucracies are loath to think out of the box, and politicians are happy to sanction capital intensive projects like roads and multi-storeyed parkings to their favoured contractors. But this comfortable, parabiotic arrangement has to change: given the geology and terrain, one cannot keep “widening” roads and excavating more parking spaces indefinitely, and the limits have already been reached. What our mountain destinations need are fewer highways and more cable/ rope-ways- that way they can keep getting more tourists but fewer vehicles. A Dehradun-Mussoorie cable system would have served the purpose of the elevated highway, with no addition of vehicles, at one tenth of the elevated highway cost. It is to Himachal’s credit that it has finally seen the light and has approved four major rope-way projects: Parwanoo-Shimla, Dharamshala-McLeodganj, Manali-Rohtang, and Kullu-Bijli Mahadev. Many more are needed, including one from Parwanoo to Kasauli.

The Union government too needs to play a role in curbing this vehicular overtourism. It should NEVER AGAIN approve a monstrosity like the Char Dham Highway which is effectively a death warrant for Kedarnath, Badrinath, Gangotri and Yamunotri. It should put a hold on all four laning projects in these states (even at the risk of annoying Mr. Gadkari) and fast track central approvals and funding for ropeways. More flights should be started to these states- in Himachal currently all its four airports are being utilized at below 50% of their capacity.

More helicopter services should be introduced, and not just to religious places. Most important, the govt. should expand the skeletal rail network in all mountain states which have tourism potential, and not just for strategic reasons. In 75 years not an inch of rail line has been added to what the British left behind. This shall not only reduce the vehicular tsunamis in the mountains but shall also add an entirely novel experience for the visitors.

Harsh physical or fiscal barriers such as e-passes, capping numbers of vehicles entering a state or even excessive tolls or entry fees should be avoided as they cause inconvenience and will not serve the purpose in the long run. It is better to provide the tourist an attractive alternative to using his car rather than simply taxing him or embroiling him in red tape. The lazy solution is usually the worst. ( Though these tough measures will become inevitable if the numbers continue to expand at the present rate).

The vision should be: we welcome tourists, but not their cars.