Bengal Post, 5 August, 2010
Not many remember that Karl Marx’s experience of defending the peasant's rights to gather dead wood made him shift from pure politics to economics and then to socialism. But trust the ruling coalition in West Bengal to know their Marx. So people’s right has always far outweighed environmental concerns during their two-decade-long stint in power.
But our so-called Marxists did not stop at exploiting what Marx defended as people’s right. They used it as a pretext and went on to cultivate vote banks, promote corruption and allow incompetence. As a result, the state’s natural resources and biodiversity have been reeling under the triple whammy of dangerous populism, mindless exploitation and a callous management.
No doubt these regressive trends hold true all over the country, to some extent or the other. But the West Bengal forest department cuts a particularly sorry figure. Riddled by the challenges of poaching, conflict and deforestation, this highly over-populated state with very little green cover seems to have already given up.
What else explains the construction of a mega tourism hub at Sajnekhali, bordering a waterhole? Or extracting soil from the forest or clearing mangroves to celebrate, of all things, 'forestry week'? It has been a month since these brazen irregularities were flagged in the media by concerned wildlife activists but probes ordered by the government are yet to order demolition of that scandal of a structure or fix any accountability.
However, the West Bengal forest department has a tradition of the absurd and those familiar with its ways would not be surprised at the turn of events in the Sunderbans.
Four years ago, I was in Buxa to look into claims that the reserve had lost most of its tigers. Then forest minister Jogesh Burman asserted that all was well and then field director LG Lepcha claimed the tigers of Buxa had crossed over to Bhutan. I thought he might as well explain if the tigers had gone on a vacation or had opted for a mass migration. I met him after spending four days that overlapped with an ongoing tiger census, in the field.
The census threw up just four pug marks, a few scat samples and a rare scratch mark – grossly insufficient to defend the last tiger count of 27. On my way to Lepcha, I met Rajeev Sharma, deputy FD (west Buxa), and he looked so down and tense that I did not feel like popping the dreaded question. The previous night, deputy FD (east) Shubhonkar Sengupta, a fine gentleman and possibly a good officer who had taken charge only two weeks back, conceded that he found “certain good management practices missing”.
A jovial host, Lepcha insisted I have lunch with him and cracked a few tiger jokes that were not funny. Halfway through the meal, I went for the jugular. But Lepcha was still smiling. "I know there are very few tigers here. But I can't bring it down at one go. So I decided to gradually cut down to a more realistic figure." A few minutes later, he said he would be happy to justify ten tigers. Then he came down to eight; then, seven. His smile was intact.
Suddenly, I cracked the puzzle.
Yes, Buxa was fast going the Sariska way. But Buxa would never become a Sariska. So long there were virgin forests in the contiguous stretches of Bhutan's Phipsu wildlife sanctuary, stray tigers would always be found on this side of the international border. Lepcha could inflate this very small floating population as per convenience and afford that smile.
I told him I had called his bluff but Lepcha still insisted that his tigers were away in Bhutan when, in fact, itwas Bhutan’s tigers saving him the blushes. Almost exasperated, I tried the original strategy. Why were Buxa’s tigers going to Bhutan? Why, wondered Lepcha, Bhutan’s forests must be so much nicer. I asked if he was accepting that Buxa was a disturbed, mismanaged reserve.
Lepcha’s smile broadened. “No, no, not mismanaged but very disturbed,” he leaned forward. “The forest department is doing very well. But there are more than 10,000 people in 37 forest villages inside the reserve. Now add about 70 tea gardens surrounding us with their labour colonies. Then, we have five security force camps. With so many disturbing factors, nobody can do magic in this forest. Oh, you are not having enough. Please try the sweet dish…”
I remember I obliged, silently. What could one tell an officer who so finely cut his responsibility.
Buxa was recently in news as the forest department celebrated a tiger sighting in the reserve. No, we do not know if it was a floater from Bhutan. But celebrations do not come easy at Buxa. Finding a tiger must have been easier than successfully ticking off an entry or two from Lepcha’s long list of “disturbing factors”.
Unfortunately, this could-not-care-less paradigm is now so well institutionalised as an accepted mode of governance in West Bengal that there seems to be little hope for forests and wildlife that readily translate into land and money.
Sold on their own brand of “materialism”, our so-called Marxists dig into Marx rather selectively. Otherwise, they would have remembered the following lines from Capital (volume 3, chapter 46): “Even a whole society, a nation, or even all simultaneously existing societies taken together, are not the owners of the globe. They are only its possessors, its usufructuaries, and, like boni patres familias, they must hand it down to succeeding generations in an improved condition.”
Of course, one does not expect such Marxian wisdom to suddenly dawn on the ruling coalition. Worse, the ruling-coalition-in-waiting is not sending any better vibes either. Already, Trinamool and SUCI are fighting the Left to take control of the green booty in Sunderbans. Acquiring land for people through deforestation being the biggest pay-off for both, there is little to choose between Marx-mati-manush and maa-mati-manush.
Mazoomdaar is a conservation journalist and filmmaker
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