Talking Shop: Decapitating times

"The Earth provides every man's

need, but not every man's greed"

— Mahatma Gandhi

Thou shalt not take liberties or 'pangas' (shameless pranks) with that which is sacred, a saint once said. Well, I am merely nay-saying and no such saint exists, but today's truth on the ground does, manifesting above-board that mankind's mindless flirtation with Mother Nature is costing us dear and near. Let's not go too afar and limit this blasé discussion to our very own India and the startling changes in our weather patterns. I am debased to see what has transpired just over the last six months, if I talk of the mighty Himachal Pradesh and its baby sister Uttarakhand, whence Manali was King and Nainital the Queen.

The tables have turned, as have their true and genial genitals. Over the last six months, day-by-day, our once-snow-bound Manali has been warmer than always snow-less Nainital. Everyday, for six months now... As I write this piece, it is well past 10 pm on September 10, 2022 and weather channels inform me that Manali is sporting a temperature of 20 degrees Celsius, while Nainital is at a far colder 15 degrees Celsius and Ranikhet is sporting a bold 18 degrees Celsius.

How did this happen, this topsy-turvy massacre of weather patterns? Well, we are ourselves to blame, especially if we live in Northern India, as do I. We have made asinine mistakes and choices and are now haplessly trundling along, bearing the brunt of our blunders and excesses. Mankind's flippancy and chutzpah has been rampant to an extent that we have taken for granted a blessing that first stared us in the face and enamoured us like a Goddess, then lamented our plunder, and finally beseeched us and begged for mercy. But we remained immune and unflappable. We now pay the price.

What is this price?

Not much, except that the next generation shall not have the privilege that we have had, of traversing pristine hills with clouds on the ground, fog on the road and nestling pine cones to be collected for the evening bonfire. Why is that? Well, it is because the mountains in North India are crumbling. Why again? It is mostly because countless minions and wannabes in dark glasses rush there when inclement weather hits their home-towns and then post whimsical and inane viral pictures and videos on social media sites. The more affluent go a step further, establishing villas and their empire in the hills. Net-net, we are smothering the mountains with our visceral greed and concrete, leaving the hills snorting and spouting vitriol to make amends for this invasion by the smartest race, us humans.

Remember Kedarnath and what happened but a few years back, when gushing waters engorged everything in sight? That was when Uttarakhand emerged as a new epicentre of a willy-nilly-hilly tragedy in Northern India. That escapade has taken on larger proportions since, with our mountains of sedimentary rock giving way to far-less-subservient and certainly more embolic and bellowing water sources, making a muted but far-reaching statement. Do not take me for granted, these forces say, but we are too focussed on dark sunglasses, beer and whisky bottles and don't give a damn. Discarded Maggi packets and plastic water bottles don't help much. These are perilous times, with hills igneous and metamorphic deciding to vary tack and hue, wreaking havoc on the idiots that ruled the roost. It is time for humility, time for meekness, and certainly time for change.

Let's face hard facts

A cloudburst hit the Raipur-Kumalda area in Uttarakhand's Dehradun area, causing rivers to breach banks, even as landslides caused havoc in Himachal Pradesh when the monsoon gripped the state. At least 31 people were killed, 22 of them in Himachal alone two weeks back in flash floods, landslides and unprecedented rain (geographically lower in the Indian map, rains also battered parts of Eastern India, with Odisha reporting four deaths).

Routine life took a toll in both Himachal Pradesh and Uttarakhand as cascading water and mud-flows inundated houses, shops and highways. National Highway 5 in Himachal's Solan district was closed due to a landslide, while the Rishikesh-Badrinath and -Gangotri Highways were blocked at several points in Uttarakhand. In Himachal, the maximum carnage was reported from Mandi, Kangra and Chamba. In Uttarakhand, torrential rains damaged houses in Tehri district, trapping many under the debris. Pauri was also affected by excessive rains, prompting the administration to close Anganwadi centres and schools. Across Uttarakhand, water entered homes and temples with a fury unseen before, causing immense damage to lives and property. Bridges got destroyed, including those leading to Digambar Bharat Giri and the Tapkeshwar Mahadev Temple.

The India Meteorological Department (IMD) defines a cloudburst as any event where 100 millimetres of rainfall happens in the span of an hour over a region that is 20-30 sq km in area. Studies show that Climate Change will increase the intensity of cloudbursts in times going forward. In May 2022, the World Meteorological Organization noted that there is a 40-per cent chance of the annual average global temperature reaching 1.5 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels over the next five years. And while hilly terrain and other conditions fuelling cloudbursts have caused incidents in the past, the frequency of cloudbursts, flash floods, urban floods are increasing. Amarnath alone has witnessed two cloudbursts this year.

What do we do now?

For starters, we can pray. As a consequent next step, we can bray and bay. And finally, subserviently and unconditionally, we can even decide to spay. But this is not a time for humour or repartee, for the time for rancour is over and a race is on, though we face a gargantuan problem—that there is no real or satisfactory methodology to anticipate the occurrence of disastrous natural events or their wrath and intensity. Our very attempts to detect future natural misdemeanours would be too expensive for us to afford, either for India or for the rest of the world.

What is the way forward? Let me give you an informed and educated view that is being bandied out by the powers that be, for it is as hilarious as it is idiotic in today's scheme of things. Replace conventional wood-burning stoves with efficient ones, provide solar-powered lighting, promote scientifically- and economically-sound Climate-smart farming techniques through use of IT platforms like Smartphone apps and ensure the phasing out of polluting vehicles... And yes, ban plastics; that may at least save the Spiti and Lahaul valleys for a while, now that the opening of the Atal Tunnel has made them accessible year-long.

But none of the above is going to happen anytime soon and, therefore, we should stick to more achievable goals. Such as do not litter or dispose of plastics in the hills (Rs 20,000 fine), do not stop inside tunnels and dance (Rs 100,000 fine), do not drive or collide when drunk (Re 0 fine, since you will be dead anyway, though your wrecked car will be impounded), do not buy villas in the hills for yourselves and friends (Rs 0 fine, since your illustrious wife shall take care of you), and do not honk too much when in the hills (Rs 0 fine, since your ears will get a bellyful of local backlash in chaste Indian Hindi).

If we continue to persevere with our insatiable and misplaced festivities, our plans and future may change in a minute as we watch the powerful force of nature belittle us; for we are rather small and quite insignificant, driven solely by personal greed and avarice. So it is that as landslides, floods, fires and other natural upheavals intensify and confront us, putting paid to many carefully laid plans, we need to take a step back, figure out the little that we can still truly control and wonder about the lines below.

"Always respect Mother Nature. Especially when she weighs 400 pounds and is guarding her baby," James Rollins wrote that and I quote him. Or let's revisit Elizabeth Gilbert: "We have a little herb garden which survived the winter thanks to Global Warming. It makes me feel like a cool, old Italian housewife, that I kept my rosemary alive outside all winter." How esoteric and disarming. Scary too.

The writer is a veteran journalist and communications specialist. He can be reached on [email protected]. Views expressed are personal