The importance of the India International Centre in New Delhi is gauged, in
part, by the number of armed security men who pass through its portals. These
come to accompany - and, one supposes, protect - the big shots, the fat cats,
the ministers and MPs and ambassadors and generals who wish to be seen at a
place located, in every sense, at the centre of power and influence. These
dignitaries come to 'dignify' the talks and seminars and book releases that the
IIC plays host to through the year.
Whether substantive or ceremonial, these meetings at the IIC
are almost always in English. Very occasionally, however, one hears a talk in
Hindi. Such was the case when the writer, Nirmal Varma, and the philosopher,
Ramchandra Gandhi, were alive; both were regulars at the IIC bar and at the
IIC's lecture podium. The memory of Ramu and Nirmal, of the exquisite Hindi they
spoke and of the lack of ceremony that accompanied them, were revived in a
function held recently in the IIC's auditorium.
The function was ostensibly a book release, to mark the
appearance in print of a work entitled Parvat Parvat Basti Basti. But it turned
into a celebration of the book's author, the great pioneering environmentalist,
Chandi Prasad Bhatt. Bhatt is best known for having been (in the words of his
fellow Gandhian from Garhwal, Sunderlal Bahuguna) the mukhya sanchalak, or chief
organizer, of the Chipko movement. As the first major environmental initiative
of the poor, the influence and impact of Chipko has resonated down the decades
and across the oceans.
Yet Chandi Prasad Bhatt was, or is, more than the founder of
Chipko. His contributions have been manifold. He both opposed deforestation and
promoted afforestation, motivating women to revegetate hillsides made barren by
the careless hand of man. He initiated producers' co-operatives, generating
off-farm employment for peasants excessively dependent on the monsoon. He
inspired young men and women in Uttarakhand, and beyond, to devote themselves to
a life of service. All through, he has displayed a complete indifference to fame
or monetary reward. In contemporary India, few people exemplify the Gandhian
ideal of disinterested service as nobly as Chandi Prasad Bhatt.
That day at the IIC, Bhatt's example was spoken of by scholars and activists who
had the privilege of knowing him over the years. The first speaker was the
respected environmental writer, Anupam Mishra. Many decades before the
publication of Parvat Parvat Basti Basti, said Mishra, Chandi Prasad Bhatt wrote
a book which contained only one word with three syllables - Chipko. When Chipko
started, in 1973, there were no 24/7 news channels. Even newspapers took three
or four days to reach the interior of Garhwal. And yet the message of Chipko
rapidly spread. The book of one word with three syllables written by Bhatt was
to be inscribed across the hills and valleys of the Himalaya, across India, and
across the world.
Mishra was followed by Ramesh Pahadi, a senior journalist based
in Garhwal. Bhatt, said Pahadi, was generally praised for his work in the
environmental field. Few knew, however, that he was a radical social reformer
from long before he founded the Chipko movement. Born in an upper-caste home,
into a family of temple priests, Bhatt was the first Brahmin in the locality to
speak with and eat with Dalits.
The next speaker, Sunita Narain of the Centre for Science and
Environment, recalled how she met Chandi Prasad Bhatt through her colleague,
Anil Agarwal. Chandi Prasad taught Agarwal (and others) that Chipko was not just
a fight for protecting forests and environment, but a struggle for protecting
and renewing livelihoods. It was a fight for social dignity, and for political
emancipation. The call of Chipko, said Sunita Narain, was relevant to the
environmental and social conflicts of the present day, those stoked by
controversial projects such as Posco and Vedanta.
In medieval times, Chandi Prasad Bhatt's native state of
Uttarakhand was divided into the rival chiefdoms of Garhwal and Kumaun. Himself
from Garhwal, Bhatt has had an enduring influence on the other side, as narrated
by the celebrated Kumauni historian, Shekhar Pathak. In 1977, Pathak was jailed
for his part in a student protest; not long after his release, Bhatt came
knocking on his door. The younger man was then a Marxist firebrand, and
suspicious of Gandhian social workers. He was quickly won over by Bhatt, who
inspired him to set up a collective project of research and documentation that,
in the years since, has produced a stream of valuable and often authoritative
books and reports on the state - social and natural - of the Himalaya.
Pathak was taught by Bhatt to think of the Himalaya as being
more than Mount Everest and Nanda Devi. The Himalaya was also the smaller peaks
and hills, and the valleys and hills in between. In the same manner, Bhatt told
his younger colleagues that the cadres and silent workers in a social movement
were as important as the leaders. Pathak also spoke of Bhatt's wider, pan-Indian
vision, as in his travels through Bastar in 1987, which resulted in a precocious
warning, outlined in a long letter to the then prime minister, Rajiv Gandhi,
that Maoists would gain in influence if tribal concerns were not attended to
forthwith.
After his admirers had spoken, Bhatt was given the right of
reply. He had, he said, been taught in the Sarvodaya movement that among the
things to eschew, apart from drinks, drugs and so on, was the hearing of
self-praise. Known now for founding a globally famous social movement, Bhatt
recalled his first struggle, back in the late 1950s, which was to stop bus
companies in Garhwal from extorting higher rates from pilgrims.
The conductors and drivers knew which passenger was from
Garhwal and who was from the plains. The former were charged the standard rate;
the latter, double or triple that. When Bhatt and his colleagues tried to stop
this practice - or malpractice - the bus owners asked, why are you complaining,
these passengers are from Kerala and Rajasthan, not from here. This then was his
first struggle, a local and unglamorous struggle, albeit a struggle emphasizing
his capacious, pan-Indian vision.
Parvat Parvat Basti Basti collects Bhatt's essays over four
decades. There are essays here on Bastar, the Godavari basin, Arunachal,
Kashmir, and the Andamans. There are accounts of his visits to Latur and Gujarat
after the earthquakes in those places. These essays display his deep
understanding of society and nature, and of the threats posed by more powerful
interests to the lifestyles and environments of rural communities.
Speaking at the IIC, Bhatt said that for him every river was a
Ganga, a source of life and renewal, abused or ill-treated at one's peril. His
travels around India were for him the work of education (shiksha ka
kaam). His own work has been an education for others. For in his own quiet,
understated way, Chandi Prasad Bhatt has had a deep influence on very many
scientists, scholars, journalists, forest officials, and, not least, younger
social workers.
I myself first met Chandi Prasad Bhatt exactly 30 years ago. My
encounters with him, and my studies of his work, have had a profound impact on
my intellectual evolution. Because of what Bhatt has done, and because of what
people like Bhatt (not least his namesake Ela of Ahmedabad) can do, I do not
despair altogether of my country. Because of them I think India can, with the
steady, patient work of selfless reformers, yet be made a nicer, or at least
less brutal, place.
My own regard for Chandi Prasadji is conveyed in one
simple fact - that when he calls and I recognize his number on my cell phone, I
stand up immediately. I live in Bangalore, and he speaks from Garhwal. My
gesture, a reflex action really, speaks of my reverence for him; as probably the
most noble Indian I have known, and, with the exception only of the late
Shivarama Karanth, also the most remarkable.
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