Environment Education

Conversion to nature worshipBittu SahgalThere are numerous and multiplying problems confronting teachers and school managements these days, what with all kinds of people including ministers, the Supreme Court and political parties presuming to prescribe how schools should be run, even as politicians try hard to indoctrinate kids early in life by forcing them to learn convenient interpretations of history. To this list of ill-conceived interventions add the brainwashing of children to believe that nature is of no use to humans, unless it is encashed. “The water is going waste into the sea” is a common litany of those seeking to build dams. “Economic ornithology” (meant to be the study of the economic benefits of protecting birds, such as their pest control and pollination services) is reduced to a bland study of profits earned by rearing chickens or ostriches. Moreover the government of India goes about propagating the calumny that nuclear reactors should be listed together with wind and solar power as an ‚Ëœalternate energy‚ source.I believe that children of the future need to look upon nature as a ‚Ëœfriend‚ and ‚Ëœsupporter‚, not an adversary to overcome. And towards this end, seemingly insignificant bits of information can go a long way in inculcating the right attitude and perspectives.For instance some three decades ago conversing with the late Kailash Sankhala, the then director of Project Tiger, I learned for the first time, that langur monkeys in the northern half of our subcontinent have their tails curled in a large ‚ËœC‚ bent over their backs. However in south India, their tails form a large ‚ËœS‚. Why? No one has quite been able to explain. But children smile when that piece of information is shared with them.I also learned from this amazing naturalist that the Hanuman langur possesses a three-chambered stomach which helps it to digest difficult-to-digest leaves that constitute its staple diet. Moreover evolution granted this species forward pointing eyes to judge distances, so that a leap from one tree to another becomes less life threatening. Colour vision and an acute sense of smell help langurs to judge when fruit hanging on a tree is ripe. Within troupes of langurs, ‚Ëœaunts‚ and young female sub-adults play surrogate mother to infants so that the real mother can feed without let or hindrance. And when a herd of chital deer wander by, the langur will not drift away, choosing instead to feed close to the deer, thus benefiting from one of the forest‚s most effective joint-predator alarm systems. And yes, they have a language of their own. Subtly varied alarm calls warn troupe members of threats from tigers, snakes or humans. Armed with long canines, more for fruit cutting than fighting, langurs use teeth to great advantage by baring them in an aggressive display designed to avoid physical conflict.There‚s more. An alpha male langur exercises mating rights over all troupe females in estrous, killing infants after driving away the dominant male of a newly taken over troupe. Langurs have light coloured fur, but their babies are almost completely black, with even blacker eyes that seem to advertise their vulnerability, drive other troupe members to distraction, each vying to protect, cuddle and nuzzle the young ones.Among wild creatures, langurs have adjusted their behaviour remarkably well and have even begun to take advantage of the human tendency to feed them. It‚s anyone‚s guess, however, if langurs will ever understand that they will die when they eat the food-stuffed plastic bags thrown by thousands of mindless tourists and Hanuman worshippers who throng the forests and temples in the Ranthambhore Tiger Reserve.Therefore when I visit forests these days I am always caught between two poles of a conundrum. Should I celebrate the obvious beauty I see before me, or mourn the destruction that is imminent?Every once in a while a primal instinct pushes me to parts of the planet where I can experience raw nature. It is here that I feel most alive. Where I can remind myself why the gift of life was granted me. These philosophic musings are probably rooted in the countless family excursions to Calcutta‚s Botanical Gardens, where the famous banyan tree became a seven-year-old‚s universe and the mere sight of the Hoogly River‚s mud banks sent my adrenaline pumping, because crocodiles lived there!I recall seeing my first tiger over 30 years ago in Kanha. It was the month of June and the air was pregnant with rain. We were tracking tiger pugmarks in the pre-dawn gloom, drenched by tall-grass dew and assaulted almost continuously by the smells and tummy expletives of Ram Pyari, our riding elephant! And suddenly, there it was.I spent an hour gaping open mouthed at the year-old cub which curiously explored its leaf-littered nullah. When he moved away, we followed for 200 metres or so till the young cat was united with mother and sister. In 15 minutes I was enslaved by tiger fire and liberated from tawdry human ambition.I recall hours spent sitting quietly with Manglu Baiga, keeper of Kanha‚s forest secrets. Manglu taught me that nature was mother, father and child, all in one. That being in a forest was like being in a temple. That I was no less a child of the earth than the tigers I had come to see.I went to Kanha a tourist. I returned a nature worshipper. Scores of sensitive teachers were responsible for my evolution as a citizen who cared for nature. If I had my way, I would create environments in and around our most popular wildlife areas that would enable every single visitor to share my good fortune.(Bittu Sahgal is the editor of Sanctuary magazine)