Mercuric

The mercury has been rising. Quite astronomically, if I may add so. Whilst newspapers tagged yesterday's temperature of 37.5 deg C as the highest in 22 years, our two reliable thermometers indicated 45 deg C (outdoors-in shade) at 1630 hrs. This morning, at 0800 hrs, the same thermometers recorded 29 deg C.

Ideal room temperatures are usually in the range of 21-25 deg C, which the American Society for Testing and Materials stretches to 38 deg C. After all, it is recommended that the human body should be maintained within/around 37 deg C. In Kerala, there have already been some deaths due to sunstroke which is hardly shocking: when the windows are opened, a blast of searing air greets you, very much akin to how it feels when opening the door of a pre-heated oven. Perhaps the boiling temperatures mightn’t pose a problem for the well-heeled, who reside in centrally air-conditioned houses, travel in air-conditioned Mercs/Audi/BMWs, and work in air-conditioned offices. But the majority is fortified only with an umbrella. Our non-air-conditioned home, during these sultry times, have an indoor temperature of 30 deg C, which is certainly thanks to the greenery maintained by us. Our neighbours, on the other hand, have been moaning about the agonising heat.

The Trivandrum of my earliest memories had a pleasant temperature range (this link would provide a quick glimpse), with us then considering temperatures of 30 – 32 deg C to be exceptionally warm. Until around a decade ago, the maximum range was around 33- 34 deg C. The change in weather/climate is much more perceptible since I have not been around for a few years. And I am quite convinced that these soaring temperatures have to do with (at least partly) the virulent de-greening of the city, the foliage having been a protective cloak.

As a toddler, I recollect Trivandrum as a very green city which the aerial view substantiated: a dark emerald carpet with very few perceptible buildings (for the towering trees concealed the myriads of settlements). Roads were lined with stately avenue trees, the parks and grounds of various offices had copious greenery (mainly mature trees), and most houses had shrubs and trees of various sizes. Pockets and belts of paddy fields, fallow grounds, and wooded areas were located just around 10-15 minutes walk away from our home, which is located barely 1 km away from the main arterial road, MG Road, the continuation of the National Highway (a twin of London’s Marylebone Road). Such green pockets, with water bodies, used to abound everywhere, with culverts and brooks transporting pristine water flourishing with aquatic flora and fauna. The traditional Keralite house was also very eco-friendly, similar to a Roman villa, often in the same proportions: there was one-three nadu muttam (an inner courtyard like the peristylium), often with pools (like the Roman impluvium). Whilst herbs and shrubs would be planted in the areas immediately surrounding the house, trees would be planted a little distance away. Thus, it is not that surprising that the weather then was tolerable.

When we fast-forward to a few years, we can notice the progressive de-greening, more so within the past six years. Most of the avenue trees have been hewn down (presumably as part of the road widening projects or to lay down massive cables; or for no apparent reason). The pattern is repeated in the grounds of various offices, where the ‘garden’ comprises of concrete tiles and lawns. The green pockets are, more or less, nonexistent, having been replaced by towering apartment complexes and sprawling mansions. Culverts and brooks have dried up and most ponds have been filled up. And the modern Keralite house shuns greenery (as hinted in my post in Ecoratorio).

So, what can be done?
The first should be to halt (or at least decrease) this de-greening in the name of development. This can be easily implemented by the city corporation (and the state government) which not only issues building permits, but also makes and implements building policies and controls. For instance, making it mandatory for new buildings and developments to:
- plant and maintain a sufficient amount of vegetation.
- follow environmentally friendly and sustainable architecture.
- plant more avenue trees.

Secondly, residents could be provided with incentives to maintain greenery in the grounds of their homes.
Thirdly, the derelict ponds could be cleaned.
Fourthly, instead of converting paddy fields and fallow lands into developments, farming could be encouraged.

If not, I wouldn’t be surprised if Kerala ends up with a faster desertification rate.

Save Our Tigers

The Save Our Tigers is a collaborative campaign run by Aircel and WWF-India.

I recently came across their poignant advert (which you can view here).

With the Chinese New Year (interestingly, of the Tiger!) barely 3 days away, tigers have been placed on WWF’s list of ten critically important endangered species facing extinction. There are only 3200 tigers left in this world (a reduction of 95%), spread over the subspecies of the Amur, Bengal, Indochinese, Malayan, and Sumatran tigers. Three subspecies (viz. Bali, Caspian, and Javan tigers) are now extinct, and the South China tiger have not been sighted for the past 25 years.

In India, from an estimated 40,000 tigers a century ago, only 1411 tigers remain in the wild (according to a study conducted by the Wildlife Institute of India, in association with NTCA, Government of India, 2008). The Bengal tigers (the national animal of India) have, unfortunately, become an easy victim to the avaricious and callous man. It was cruelly hunted during the colonial times and its parts are now used in certain indigenous/traditional Asian medicine.

Please, let not our descendants read about the tigers like we now read about the dodo.

Please register your support and do the spread the word to your friends and acquaintances as well. You can also join the Facebook page or tweet @saveourtigers

The Ponmudi example

Over the past 45 years, various members of my family have researched into various issues faced by the Ponmudi forests, part of the Western Ghats range of high mountains in India. Ponmudi, at 1100 m elevation, is located 60 kms North-East of Trivandrum city. When my father commenced his fieldtrips in the 1960s, the Ponmudi forests used to start immediately after the Vithura village. Nearly four decades later, Vithura is now a sprawling township and the forests have receded approximately 5 kms, and now commence from Kallar bridge. Ponmudi, from a distance

Although Ponmudi is now incorporated under the Agastyamalai Biosphere Reserve (so named after the 1868m tall Agastyamalai peak), Kallar is changing with new developments sprouting up and more developments slated to be constructed at the summit, an area with montane grasslands and cloud forests (also known as sholas). Plantations sprung up in these mountains nearly 100-150 years ago (mainly tea), which was later followed by the construction of tourist resorts.

This is just one little example of what’s happening in one little part of the Western Ghats. But it cannot be denied that the pattern can be extrapolated to forests elsewhere around the world.

The afore-mentioned developments at Kallar

Forests: the backdrop

I welcome my readers to join me for a quick jaunt to the nearby forests….

… and here we are, standing amongst the soaring verdant trees, with their chestnut coloured barks and branches reaching out towards the blazing Sol. One can make out the distinct canopies and the undergrowth with ferns and mosses. A gentle breeze sends a few reddish leaves fluttering down to the ground, where it joins its companions in enriching the soil. There is peaceful silence, sometimes interrupted by the forests’ orchestra- the rustling of leaves reaching sporadic crescendos when played upon by gusts, the chirping of numerous unseen birds, accompanied by the fluttering of wings, the croaks of a tree frog, the piping of grasshoppers and crickets, the distant milieu of a pure cascade, and the nearby gurgling of a hidden spring watering the rushes. How much long until these trees are made way for humans? Until when will the silence of the forests be interrupted by the whirring of the chain saw and the felling of trees?

Over the next few weeks, I am hoping to post a series of posts on deforestation and biodiversity. As always, I welcome your contributions and comments.

New Poll

The polls, which previously used to be displayed on top of this page, have been relocated to the RHS of the blog, directly below the 'About Me' box. I will be very grateful for your input on my questions. Thank you.

Poll results: What should be our responsibility towards the planet?

60%- We are morally obliged to preserve this planet for our own benefit and survival

20%- We should preserve the planet for the future generations, so that they wouldn't drive themselves to extinction.

20%- We needn't worry because if we run out of natural resources, we are bound to develop new technologies to compensate for these losses.

0%- The planet and its resources are for our sole use- we needn't be concerned about preserving anything
and
Why should I care?

A lesson from the past

A few months ago, a research team led by Dr. David Beresford-Jones (Fellow, McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research, Cambridge) published some interesting findings in the Latin American Antiquity journal ('The Role of Prosopis in Ecological and Landscape Change in the Samaca Basin, Lower Ica Valley, South Coast Peru from the Early Horizon to the Late Intermediate Period')

Nearly two millennia ago, a civilisation existed in Peru. Their claim to fame was their strange creation of ‘Nazca Lines’ in the desert plains between Nazca and Palpa. Many were the hypotheses behind these bizarre etchings.

In their paper, the research team points out that this civilization was obliterated, around AD 500, as a result of their deforestation activities aimed at clearing away forests for agriculture. Specifically, the annihilation of huarango (Prosopis), an unlikely jack of all trades (providing food, fuel, and timber, apart from nitrogen fixing/recycling and water retention) led to the irreversible calamity. The result: the civilisation could not recover when the climate changed for the worse, helped by an El Niño event. Eventually, it all resulted in persistent drought and famine.

A civilisation, thus, met its demise because of their own unsustainable anthropogenic activities. Perhaps their unwise disregard could be excused: after all, they did not possess the knowledge and tools which the current generation has. It may always be tempting for entities (countries/regions/companies/individuals) to make the fullest and pillaging use of the vast resources offered by planet Earth, without remembering that these resources are mostly nonrenewable. Such lucrative ventures may neglect the importance of maintaining the ecosystem, that fragile web of balance where excessive stresses can change and destablise the dynamics. If the planet continues to be maligned and stabbed…. even the optimist shudder to visualise the future.