Barbarians at the gate

Think about this: Veerappan and his dacoits killed so many elephants for ivory, that it triggered a genetic response in the elephant population: the average weight of the animals' tusks dropped by half, and the number of makhna calves-males born without tusks-rose sharply.

That's the kind of hair-raising index of ecological sensitivity, and depredation, liberally strewn around journalist Jay Mazoomdaar's essays in The Age of Endlings. The collection is based on a decade of investigative reporting focused on the Indian wilderness and the systems that are supposed to protect it. That already makes it an unusual work in a country where environmental concerns are rapidly losing purchase on the priority lists of both government policy and media attention.

Mazoomdaar goes on a range of fascinating journeys, whether on the hunt for a legendary venom-breathing snake in Rajasthan, through cropland tracking a tigress on foot, or into government records that show baffling data on forest cover. The essays, divided into two sections called 'Explorations' and 'Investigations', throw light on the richness of the Indian wild, and the colossal challenges it faces.

This is not a set of lyrical travelogues describing the beauty of a doe in a forest sunrise. It's a cold-eyed look at the science, the contentious issues, and the dreary bureaucracy tied into conservation. How are we counting our tigers? Is it ethical to cull animals? How do you deal with human-animal conflict? What's the difference between animal welfare and conservation? How much do our rules help the wild? Should we be playing god? Why are our sanctuaries being emptied? How do you resolve the contest between roads and animal corridors?

None of the answers to these questions is pretty. Mazoomdaar paints the picture of a country so beset by official apathy, corruption, and greed, that even when an environmental investigation provokes a political or official response, things go back to the way they were as soon as the public eye has moved on-and it moves on very soon.

There are some hopeful stories. The tribals in the Niyamgiri hills successfully protested against giving the land to the mining lobby. The Soligas in the Biligiri Ranga Hills area fought to retain their status as forest dwellers whose traditional community conservation preserves the sanctuary. We have hopefully learned a lesson about not relocating big cats to repopulate sanctuaries without first checking their DNA.

But these are the rare wins in Indian conservation's star-crossed fate. Mazoomdaar's essays are a woeful record of unbelievable incompetence, venality and irreconcilable difference. Some of the stories of official and political meddling in conservation leave you holding your head in your hands-notably the disastrous attempt to reintroduce non-indigenous species of cheetah instead of following through on the planned and sensible nurturing of the Gir lion. Huge swathes of wilderness are vulnerable to the actions of rebels (e.g. Maoists, Bodos etc.) and security forces who play out their conflict at the cost of precious forest and wildlife.

An 'endling' is the last individual of a species. Mazoomdaar writes, in his introduction, that 'man-made' endlings constitute "a journey fuelled by human thoughtlessness". He says, "Indeed, man may well learn to survive in a self-serving order with only a handful of farmed species necessary for consumption. But it is still too early to resign to the conceit and loneliness of that destiny. Those who believe in a shared future value it not only for mutual sustenance but also for the infinitely diverse possibilities that coexistence promises."

The Age of Endlings is a bid to re-invest in the idea of a shared future before that window of possibility closes for good. It is a profoundly upsetting read, and for that reason, an important one. It defends the idea, as too few people do, that the wilderness is more than a profit waiting to be turned.