Over the decades, relentless deforestation and unchecked construction have turned Nainital’s once verdant landscapes into tinderboxes

Summers were harsh this year. Fire rained from the skies. Cities were burning. So were the mountains.My first holiday to the mountains was in the summer of 1970. We boarded the train in the evening, excited about the trip.

The first glimpse of the distant mountains the next morning kept us awake for the remaining journey, as the faint outlines turned prominent.The bus ride from the railway station was equally exciting. Sometimes we travelled hugging the mountains, and at other times we looked down with fear, as the bus moved literally at the edge of the road.

After what felt like an impatiently long time, as we turned a bend, I gasped looking with awe at the majestic lake spread out before me. We had arrived at Nainital. I had fallen in love with the hills. I would return several times in the following years, till I realised that there were many other equally beautiful hills to explore. Things started changing fast. My first view in the summer of 1970 faded into a fond memory, which I would often draw upon to mourn a lost time. I still remember very vividly the green shades covering the hills, even in the summers, much before the onset of monsoons. There was not even a speck of brown visible beneath the thick curtain of foliage. I also do not remember the presence of fans, coolers, refrigerators, much less air conditioners. The only cooling devices were the soft ice-cream machines along the Mall road.

The subsequent visits were a stark contrast. We could see the rapid pace of deforestation and the mushrooming of construction activities along the roads. There was a hazy curtain of dust as dumpers carried their load from the innumerable quarries in the hills. Fans started making their entry in homes and hotels, initially only for a few days in peak summers, and then for a better part of the year.

I was unaware of the ecological disaster that was in the making at that stage in life. However, I could intuitively sense that it was not something desirable. A few wildfires in earlier years started increasing in numbers and intensity. It was easy to attribute these to the locals setting off accidental fires. The high and mighty of the land are seldom blamed. Wildfires in the mountains are not new; but not to the extent that they now ravage. A trickle in the previous century is now a raging river.

Fires in the Nainital region alone engulfed vast tracts of land even entering residential areas. Other mountains in the north also faced the same fate. Even the plains are not immune to the rapid march of unplanned urbanisation and the greed of the unscrupulous. I remember going to view Ram Lila wearing half-sleeved sweaters. We would wait with baited breaths for Diwali. However warm it was the previous day, we would invariably take out heavier woollens from Diwali. With time, winters started setting in later than we were used to.Our beautiful planet is nudging us with innumerable omens to wake up and look after her.

Hills are sinking under the heavy burden of unplanned construction of houses, hotels, and resorts. Sea levels are going up. Many coastal cities may submerge over the next few decades. Water tables are fast going down resulting in conflicts for drinking water.We need to act to live a better future for the coming generations. Let us remember British historian, explorer and activist Robert Swan, “The greatest threat to our planet is the belief that someone else will save it.”

(The author is an electrical engineer with the Indian Railways and conducts classes in creative writing; views are personal)