The nature of things

In the midst of 21st-century India's relentless pursuit of growth, A Walk up the Hill offers an enjoyable and enlightening perspective

A Walk up the Hill, Living with People and Nature

Author: Madhav Gadgil

Publisher:Penguin Allen Lane

Pages: 424

Price: Rs 999

Madhav Gadgil’s A Walk Up the Hill is one of those rare books in which the life, times and the work of the author are intertwined with ideas in science, policy, ecology and the economy. Other than a wry sense of humour and a razor-sharp memory, what is evident in this book is Dr Gadgil’s complete engagement with the subject he is working on at any given time. His range and oeuvre are vast, from the logic of evolution in plants and communal roosting of birds to why paper mills deplete bamboo faster than it grows.

Born in the year of the 1942 Quit India movement and the son of the pioneering economist, Dhananjay Gadgil, the young Madhav imbibed much from his family’s rich intellectual and cultural life. The library at home had over 3,000 books in Marathi and English, and 50 in Sanskrit. Fascinating as it is to read about his exploits in athletics at school and university, it is his wider interests that stand out.

For instance, the hill he climbed near his home was Sinhagad, known for the battle in which Tanaji died winning the fort for Shivaji. As much as the birds and trees, he was drawn to the buffalo-keeping Gavlis who lived on and near the hill. These twin phenomena, of nature and those who lived close to and on its bounty, would define much of his intellectual quest.

After obtaining a BSc in science from Pune’s Fergusson College, he went to Harvard for his doctoral work. His six years there, ending 1971, were pivotal for two reasons. Unusually for an Indian biologist of his time, he excelled at mathematics. He was in the right place at the right time, interacting with some of the finest minds, such as Ernst Mayr (on evolution) and Ed Wilson (on population biology). He rejected the former’s advice to work on the jacana, an Indian bird. Instead, he researched plant communities in Concord, providing conceptual insights that enabled him to write two papers that became citation classics.

Dr Gadgil faithfully records how Mayr admitted he was mistaken and assured him of his full support. Such candour was and is rare in Indian academia. This core scientific ability to correct oneself in the light of fresh knowledge and thought was to be a hallmark for Dr Gadgil on his return to India.

Dr Gadgil would make his mark in many ways. Even a brief mention has to include the joint research with V D Vartak, the Pune botanist, where they show how sacred groves could be repositories of rich plant diversity. This work in the early 1970s was soon followed by long-term collaboration on culture, occupation, and conservation with the anthropologist Kailash Malhotra.  These are only some examples of the deeply influential collaborations with scholars across disciplines.

The accounts here, all vividly told, show Dr Gadgil to be a Renaissance Man, but also one who was central to a rethinking on the ways in which the economic growth model was damaging the ecological fabric and human livelihood.

Engagement with opponents of the Bedhthi Varahi dams led to studies on alternatives, and included a panel and public meeting in Indian Institute of Science (IISc) in 1981.  Earlier studies commissioned by the Karnataka State Council on Science and Technology showed how preferential pricing policies had encouraged rapid decimation of bamboo stocks in the forests.

His own engagement with policy had mixed results. Pioneering work to assist in setting up the first Biosphere Reserve in the country with multiple zones of protection, production and continued human presence took shape in his still new Centre for Ecological Sciences in the IISc. Yet what was set up in the Nilgiris was a travesty of the vision, with the three major states of Karnataka, Tamil Nadu and Kerala merely amalgamating existing nature reserves in 1981.

More sobering is the account of the 1980 report co-written with Kailash Malhotra, which was instrumental in shaping the Department of Environment at the Centre. They drew on their extensive field experience and visits to select locations from the Goa coast to the western Himalayas. The ideas they spelt out, such as forest rights at the local level and devolution of power combined with ecological monitoring, were to find an echo in later laws.

Retirement from the IISc has not slowed him down in the last two decades. Appointed head of the Western Ghats Task Force in 2010, he and his colleagues produced a report recommending 60 per cent of the area be an eco-sensitive zone. He is at pains to show this meant restrictions on deeply damaging activities, such as dam building and mining, not a halt to all development. Yet, the government set aside the report.

Since then, he seems to have recharged, and details such instances as Menka Lendhna in Gadchiroli, where local control under the Forest Rights Act has enabled both income growth and forest recovery. Dr Gadgil has frequently rolled up his sleeves and engaged with people as diverse as cultivators, fisher folk and herders in Goa and Maharashtra.

The book resembles a garland of many-hued flowers, because the author’s interests were diverse, a rare quality among scholars of the natural sciences. His core ability to get to the heart of the matter stands out in  each account.

Whether a 21st century India, where growth seems to be a buzzword, will pay heed to his work is not clear. But A Walk up the Hill is as enjoyable as it is educative.

The reviewer teaches history and environmental studies at Ashoka University