In Sunderlal Bahuguna's passing, we lost a Rishi

India has a tradition of Rishis, the learned men with wisdom and compassion not only for human beings, but for all beings on Earth. Rishi literally means one who studies and understands the ruth, nature as it changes, and passes on that knowledge. Sunderlal Bahuguna was one such modern Rishi, a spokesperson for mother nature throughout his life, till Covid took him away from us last week.

I first met him in late 1970 at his Navjivan Ashram, an idyllic place on the hillock overlooking Bhilangana, a tributary of the Ganga. His first question was, “Why are you here? If you aspire for a career, then I am sorry, this is not the place for you. We train people to become activists, so that they can become spokespersons for those who do not have voice— nature, forests and rivers.”

The routine and discipline of ashram life, combined with the physical labour in the fields, helped us to maintain a balance between mental and manual labour as an essential quality to become an activist, adhering to the ideology of ‘simple living, high thinking’.

Inspired by Mahatma Gandhi, he launched a movement against the king in Tehri, Uttarakhand, and the British Raj at the age of 14, and was expelled. He studied in Lahore and participated in the anti-colonial movement. He was with the Congress party at the time of Independence and could have become a successful politician. But Vimla, his wife-to-be, set the condition that she would marry him only if he quit politics and took up social work. That is how they came to jointly establish Navjivan Ashram in the Himalayas, inspired by Mira Ben, Gandhi’s disciple.

Since the last 40 years, I have been practising what Bahuguna taught me— to stand up against the destruction of forests, against dams and pollution of rivers; to convey the message that “ecology is the permanent economy.” I am one among the innumerable youths he has inspired throughout his life.

He always said he was “a messenger of the Chipko women, seeking protection of the natural forests to protect the basic capital of humankind— soil, water and air.” During the early 1980s, he undertook a march on foot, or Padyatra, of 4,800 km across the Himalayas— from Kashmir to Kohima. It took him three years. I was fortunate enough to join him in the North-East region and Bhutan.

At that time, I was an energetic youth, but I still could not walk at his pace in the hilly tracks. And he walked this arduous path carrying a rucksack, weighing almost 40 kilos, on his back! At the end of the day, during the meetings in the villages, there was no trace of tiredness in him. He was full of energy and humour, sharing stories and listening to them. That is when I learnt the basics of grassroots action.

When he learnt that the people of Uttara Kannada had launched Appiko, a movement similar to Chipko, he came and participated in the movement. He took me to the then chief minister Ramakrishna Hegde, to whom he said, “These people are protesting against the policy of your government to destroy forests to establish teak plantations. We hope you will change the forest policy.” There was not a trace of anger in him, he was full of humility and compassion. His appeal touched Hegde. The forest policy changed.

His influence extended far and wide, from interior Bastar region in India to far-off places like Switzerland, Sweden, the US and Japan.

In Bastar, a movement similar to Chipko was launched by tribal women to save the Sal forests. In Odisha, the movement against mining in Gandhamardhan was inspired by Chipko. He visited many places across India when there was a need to save forests and rivers. He played a significant role in the struggle to save Silent Valley.

What surprised me most was the way Japanese housewives and youth used his non-violent struggle to launch Chipko in Japan against the expansion of a highway that would have taken a toll of forests. I had the rare opportunity to participate in this movement, although the forests could not be saved.

Similarly, I took part in the Chipko Padyatra organised in Switzerland. Bahuguna was instrumental in spreading the message of Chipko, of ecological conservation, in different parts of the world.

Ironically, in our own country, the land where Chipko has become a legend, we are razing forests, polluting rivers and, through our actions, damaging our basic capital— air, water and soil— that are essential for the survival of humans and other forms of life.

Prime Minister Modi said that Bahuguna’s death is a “monumental loss” and that he “manifested the ethos of living in harmony with nature.” But his government’s Char Dham highway project to link pilgrimage centres and other infrastructure projects contradict those words of tribute and will destabilise the entire Himalayas.

This is a clear indication from our rulers that they will not heed the wisdom of our Rishis. Many will pay rich homage to Bahuguna in words, but the best way to pay tribute is to practise what he taught us— to become the voice of voiceless nature.

Bahuguna’s long innings of 94 years was a life well-lived, propagating the principles of non-violent action. He gave a new lease of life to the Gandhian philosophy of living in harmony with nature as the roadmap to attain sustainable development.

Vimla, his lifelong companion who inspired him to his path and in his struggle, is also unfortunately afflicted by Covid. They were hospitalised together. Let us hope she recovers and continues the legacy for many more years.

(The writer is a well-known environmental activist and leader of the Appiko and Save Western Ghats movement)