On May 19, 2022, we were at Thamarassery on the way to Wayanad, enjoying the Thusharagiri waterfall. There was a group of NCC cadets, most of whom were splashing water. Suddenly, a local person warned us that there would soon be a gush of water from the hills. We could also hear an alarming sound.

The cadets heeded the advice and moved to the higher place where we were standing. Within a few seconds, the waterfall became thicker, and the area started getting inundated. We exited the place and returned to Kozhikode. As there was an alert from the weather office, we cancelled our trip to Wayanad.

In July last, we passed through many areas of Wayanad when we visited the teak museum at Nilambur. We saw the Chaliyar River when we visited the area where the Nilambur royal family stayed. A large temple, which remained closed, was the major attraction there.

Having read the travelogue "Ente Keralam" (My Kerala, Mathrubhumi) by Raveendran, who ran a popular serial on Asianet, I knew that Nilambur had gold deposits, attracting gold-diggers from far and wide. I also knew that the teak estate was established at the cost of the natural forests.

At Nilambur, my wife was happy to meet some of her relatives who had migrated to the place in the sixties of the twentieth century. While returning to Kozhikode, we took a different route, enabling us to enjoy the scenic beauty of Wayanad. We saw huge cut-outs and posters of Rahul Gandhi, who contested and won from Wayanad.

Migration to Wayanad began about 200 years ago when the British found different ways to exploit the forests beyond gathering honey. The railway lines required a large quantity of a particular tree whose shock-absorbing wood could withstand rain and shine for even a century. Denudation of forests was the result.

Until then, only the tribals or aborigines stayed in Wayanad. Of course, archaeological findings suggest that the Jains, followers of Mahavira, who lived in the sixth century BC, stayed there, especially in the caves that dotted the area.

Wayanad is a part of the Western Ghats, spread over six states—Gujarat, Maharashtra, Goa, Karnataka, Kerala, and Tamil Nadu—covering 1,600 km. The Ghats are home to thousands of species of animals, birds, insects, reptiles, butterflies, and other creatures. Many of the rivers in these states originate in the Ghats.

At one time, the Ghats served as natural protectors from invaders. They also made life comfortable for the people living in their valleys. If they experience a moderate climate, it is because the natural forests in the Ghats make this possible.

With the arrival of Europeans about five centuries ago, the sense of development began to change. Until then, contentment could be found in having a sound sleep after a day of labour. The aliens were in India to exploit the natural resources to their advantage.

They needed roads, bridges, rails, and electric and telephone poles for quicker communication. They found resources for all of them in the forests, which were cut down ruthlessly. The introduction of cash crops like rubber and tea was at the cost of forests. They needed workers, who were brought from wherever they were available.

Haphazard cutting of trees endangered the Western Ghats. The Ghats have a layer of soil held together by the roots of the trees. When a tree is cut, its roots decay and die within a few months or years. The pores they create are filled with rainwater, making the soil susceptible to landslides.

The rainwater that fills all the cavities in the hills, including every little space water can enter, will eventually burst out when the rains are heavy. When the water gushes out, it does not spare anything in its path. Primarily, this happens because of the cutting of trees. When a tree is cut, two more should be planted nearby to let the soil remain intact.

The threat to the Western Ghats is not from Kerala alone. Every state from Gujarat to Tamil Nadu has, in its own way, endangered the natural equilibrium that the Ghats provide. Many of the hydroelectric projects they completed were at the cost of the fragility of the Ghats.

The Silent Valley project the Kerala Government planned would have inundated a vast forest area, which was home to several species of animals and birds. There were protests from well-meaning people like Justice VR Krishna Iyer and poetess Sugathakumari.

They organised a powerful campaign against the project, which the central and state governments could not afford to ignore. Thousands of ordinary people took part in the agitation, derided by those in power as anarchists and anti-development. Finally, the project was shelved forever.

Ecologists knew that if the pillaging of the Western Ghats was allowed in the name of development, there would come a time when there would be no mountains and, therefore, no sources of water for the hundreds of rivers that originate there.

As human beings, we have every right to make use of natural resources, but we have no right to destroy them in the name of development. We owe it to our future generations to bequeath to them all the bounties of nature that our forefathers bequeathed to us.

They also knew that if they slagged, there would soon be nothing left of the Western Ghats. Thus, in 1989, it was decided to organise two rallies, one beginning from Kanyakumari in Tamil Nadu and another from the banks of the Tapti in Gujarat. Many people, young and old, came forward to take part in the march through the Western Ghats.

It was not an easy task, as the walkers had to face many obstacles. There were no funds to support the journey. Yet, ordinary people came out in large numbers to welcome them and to listen to them. For once, they learned how dangerous it is to cut trees and occupy forest land, which belongs to the adivasis and the animals.

If nature was tampered with, there would be an equal and opposite reaction from nature, which man would not be able to withstand. The processions from the two sides finally converged in Goa. They were able to highlight the dangers the Western Ghats were facing.

Jairam Ramesh, a young minister in charge of the environment, understood that he needed to do something to save the Ghats. As one who functions from Delhi, he would have seen how the Aravalli Range, of which Raisina Hill, where Rashtrapati Bhavan is situated, was an integral part, has been destroyed. In many areas, the range is broken.

Uninterrupted quarrying, both legal and illegal, has destroyed the Aravalli Range, especially where it separates the New Delhi region from Haryana. He, perhaps, did not want the Western Ghats to become another Aravalli!

That is how the government constituted the Western Ghats Ecology Expert Panel, popularly known as the Gadgil Commission. The Commission, headed by Dr Madhav Gadgil, an ecologist of international standing who taught ecology at the Indian Institute of Science in Bangalore, consisted of 13 others, all well-known in their fields.

Nobody could have found fault with the constitution of the Commission. It did a wonderful job and presented its report to the government in 2011. Ordinarily, it should have been placed on the table of Parliament, which means it should have been brought to the notice of the public. Nothing of the sort happened.

Speculations were rife in the public domain about what the Commission's recommendations were. Nobody knew why the government was so secretive. Unfortunately for the Manmohan Singh Government, it had a few years earlier passed the Right to Information Act. It was one of the greatest pieces of legislation enacted by Parliament.

Until then, only Parliament Members could ask questions about governance. The Act empowered any Indian citizen ready to pay a nominal fee of Rs 10 to ask questions about any government-related activities. They sought and obtained a copy of the Gadgil Commission report, which was in English.

For once, people knew what it dealt with. However, the majority of the people could not read it or discuss it, as its Malayalam, Tamil, Kannada, Gujarati, and Marathi versions were not available. That is when vested interests began to spread canards about the report.

For instance, rumours were spread that the Gadgil Commission wanted every house on the Western Ghats to be painted green. It was also rumoured that if babies cried aloud after 10 pm, the forest and police officers could penalise them. Vested interests spread wild stories against the Commission.

Gadgil was presented as a wicked person who was against all kinds of development. It was claimed that he wanted to take the people back to the Stone Age. His effigies and his report's effigies were burnt, and he was denounced in the strongest language. What's worse, those in power added fuel to the fire.

All that the Commission said was that the entire area needed to be divided into three zones depending on how sensitive each area was. He fixed certain dos and don'ts. For instance, he suggested non-use of chemical fertilisers as well as new patterns of cultivation. He did not want the use of seeds promoted by western companies.

When the protest against Gadgil became strong, the government appointed Dr Kasturirangan as head of another committee to look into the matter. His brief was to study the Gadgil Commission report and suggest measures the government should implement. He did not see his task in this light.

Instead, he considered himself the head of a new commission and started examining everything afresh. There is a fundamental difference between the two. While Gadgil is an ecologist, Kasturirangan is a space scientist. Yes, space technology can be used to map land masses, but beyond that, it has no practical use when it comes to understanding the ecological challenges the Western Ghats face.

The Kasturirangan Commission report was a severely watered-down version of the Gadgil report. I can go on and on about how it undermined the Gadgil report. Ultimately, what happened is that neither the report of the Gadgil Commission nor the Kasturirangan Commission was implemented.

The situation remains more or less the same. All this was brought to public consciousness when, on the night of July 30, landslides and flash floods occurred in Wayanad, which received heavy rains continuously for about 12 hours. At least 400 houses have been destroyed, half of them completely. There is no trace of at least 200 houses, as even the land on which they were situated has been washed away.

At the time of writing, the casualty figure is put at 300. As more than 200 people are missing and there is little chance of recovering them, the death toll is likely to go up to 500. Not even half that number of people were lost in the 2018 flood that devastated several districts in Kerala.

The local and government agencies have done a splendid rescue and relief job. I have heard many heroic stories from Ground Zero. Now the question is, what next? The people who lost all their belongings need rehabilitation. They may not like to return to the area where they were living.

They need to be settled in an area where they would be comfortable. Only the Kerala government can find enough land and allot the same to them. At least 250 new houses have to be built for them. Each house should have a minimum of two bedrooms, a toilet, a kitchen, a dining space, and a sit-out. Philanthropic-minded people and agencies can easily help in this regard, as each house should not cost more than Rs 12 lakh.

Until then, the government should provide them rent so they can move out of the relief camps. The only government school in the area was washed away. Alternative arrangements need to be provided so that children are not deprived of education.

Once this is ensured, there should be a re-look at the Gadgil report to ensure that the Western Ghats remain a source of strength to the people of Kerala and not a dread. The tragedy would be worse if the century-old Mullaperiyar dam is not decommissioned. Let's take decisions that will be a tribute to those who were washed away in Wayanad.