The Supreme Court’s scathing intervention in the Kancha Gachibowli deforestation case last week could not have come sooner. What began as a quiet student protest at the University of Hyderabad has now snowballed into a national flashpoint, forcing the country to confront once again the reckless pace at which India’s urban green spaces are being sacrificed at the altar of development. In directing the Telangana government to immediately halt all clearing activities in the Kancha Gachibowli forested zone, the apex court delivered a message that was, in the words of Justice BR Gavai, loud and unmissable: “no one, not even a state government, is above the law” when it comes to environmental protection.
What makes the attempted erasure of this forest particularly egregious is its location and significance. Nestled next to the University of Hyderabad, Kancha Gachibowli is a thriving urban forest home to rare flora and fauna, Schedule-I wildlife, ancient rock formations, and critical water bodies that help recharge the city’s aquifers. This Deccan scrub ecosystem supports over 700 species of plants, hundreds of birds, mammals, and reptiles. Destroying it is akin to ripping out a lung from Hyderabad’s rapidly urbanizing body. Yet, despite its ecological wealth, the Telangana government authorized the Telangana State Industrial Infrastructure Corporation (TGIIC) to auction the land for IT park development—citing job creation and capital investment. The promise being: Rs 50,000 crore in investment and 5 lakh jobs. What is absent, however, is any credible data to substantiate these claims, or more importantly, any Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA), as required under Indian environmental law. Worse still, the state government ignored mounting public opposition. On March 30, over 50 earthmovers rolled into the site. By the time the courts stepped in, the damage was reported to be staggering. The state’s claims that only "some shrubs were cleared" were debunked by the High Court Registrar’s ground report, which confirmed widespread destruction across 100 acres. The Supreme Court rightly observed that such scale of devastation, executed with military precision, reeks of deliberate concealment and administrative arrogance.
In many ways, this case underscores a recurring malaise in Indian urban planning—the treatment of forests as vacant lots. Despite a 1996 Supreme Court ruling (TN Godavarman case) that defines “forest” based on its characteristics, not merely its legal notification, state governments continue to weaponize technicalities to bypass environmental norms. Kancha Gachibowli may not have been notified as forest land—but it has all the features of one. By every ecological, ethical, and civic measure, this land deserved protection instead of plunder. Telangana’s belated formation of a ministerial committee and its consultations with stakeholders now appear more as damage control than genuine environmental stewardship. Even more disturbing is that this brazen act of destruction came despite the Supreme Court’s March 4 order warning all states to identify and protect forests under the new Van (Sanrakshan Evam Samvardhan) Rules, 2023. Telangana’s defiance is an act of ecological vandalism, and apparently, legal contempt.
But perhaps the most heartening takeaway is the role of young citizens, environmentalists, and civil society groups who refused to let this transgression pass. From petitions to PILs to mass sit-ins, their resistance pushed the judiciary into action. Their voices ensured that Hyderabad’s last wild frontier wasn’t silenced beneath bulldozers without a fight. The future of Kancha Gachibowli now rests with the Supreme Court and the empowered committee's findings. But one thing is clear: India’s cities need their forests as much as their flyovers. And governments must stop treating trees as obstacles and biodiversity as collateral.