https://reasonstobecheerful.world/india-sacred-groves-conservation/
"A herd of goats makes its way through a stubbly, dry grassland to a hilly
grove. As they get closer, the air becomes noticeably cooler, the vegetation
denser, the grass greener. A couple of buffalo wallow in a shallow pool of
water, and beyond, a forest path leads to a giant old ficus. From the tree’s
roots, a little stream emerges, its peaceful gurgling punctuated with the
plopping sound of ripe figs falling into the water.
“Baba himself looks after this forest and this stream,” says Bhawani Shankar,
the custodian of this forest and the shrine of
chud sidh which lies at its
center. “Its water is so life-giving that my hair has grown to my ankles ever
since I came here … years ago.” Twirling his matted locks into a bun larger
than his head, he scatters seed for peacocks on a feeding platform. “Nothing
good has come to anyone who dares to cut wood from this forest. The last man
who cut an ancient tree here to build his house lost everything in a fire that
somehow only left the beam he’d made from the tree unscathed.”
This forest is Adaval ki Devbani in Alwar, in the western Indian state of
Rajasthan.
Devbani literally means “sacred grove,” and the state has an
estimated 25,000 of them. Sometimes they are also known as
orans, or places
where land, water, jungle and people coexist peacefully. Over centuries such
groves have existed, not just in India but across the globe, as commons land,
used by neighboring villages as pastures and places to collect fallen wood,
medicinal herbs, honey and forest fruit. Deeply held spiritual beliefs ensure
that trees and animals are protected within their boundaries, making them
treasure troves for naturalists and the last refuge for a variety of indigenous
species. In the desert state of Rajasthan,
devbanis and
orans also have
within them bodies of water that humans and animals use.
But with changing lifestyles and land use patterns, these little pockets of
biodiversity have been in a state of continuous decline. During the British
colonial period, the revenue department declared many of them
ghair mumkin
zameen, or uncultivable land that was not taxed. This made them fair game for
encroachments, mining, land grabs and worse. Since Indian Independence in 1947,
they have continued to face pressure from farming, construction, mining and
more.
In 1992, Aman Singh, a Rajasthan native and no stranger to water scarcity,
founded an NGO with a mouthful of a name, Krishi Avam Paristhitiki Vikas
Sansthan (KRAPAVIS), which literally means “organization for the development of
ecology and agriculture/livestock.”
“I had a theory that if we could rejuvenate water sources in village commons,
perhaps this could improve the water table underground and revive the nearby
wells and water bodies downstream that had long dried up,” he recounts.
KRAPIVIS restored 15
orans and
devbanis in Alwar, on the fringes of
Rajasthan’s Sariska Tiger Reserve. As the
orans and water bodies within them
revived, he says his hypothesis was proved. “Wells revived, water levels in the
nearby Siliserh Lake in Sariska Tiger Reserve rose and although the exact
hydrology of this area hasn’t been studied in depth, this showed us that they
were all connected underground,” he says.
The realization that reviving sacred and community forests across Rajasthan
could help desert communities develop resilience to harsh weather and climate
change gave KRAPIVIS an impetus to revive as many such forests as it could. "
Cheers,
*** Xanni ***
--
mailto:xanni@xanadu.net Andrew Pam
http://xanadu.com.au/ Chief Scientist, Xanadu
https://glasswings.com.au/ Partner, Glass Wings
https://sericyb.com.au/ Manager, Serious Cybernetics
