Environmental & Social: Environmental Stories of Loss, Resilience and Memory.

 Environmental & Social: Environmental Stories of Loss, Resilience and Memory.

When the River Forgets Its Name

India has rivers that, at one point, were transporting not only water but even civilizations along their banks. They became life-giving, and built out scenes and practices, which happened to be folklore picturesque, in fetes. Now some of those rivers are dead, drawn into parched paths, or rather so far off they appear only in crumbling map books named. Others again run, but they have borrowed names, denuded of their pasts. A river which forgets its name is not merely a geographical loss--a loss of the memory and the sense of identity and of belonging to the peoples which were once singing to it, were praying to it, were living of it.

The quiet of a lost river becomes an eerie reminder of how frail we have become in our contact with nature.

Seeds of Memory

At a low level, in small Indian villages, the farmers are protesting this loss. They conserve native seeds — not only to feed themselves, but also to act as repositories of sharing their culture. There is a story behind each seed: of a parent or an ancestor who planted it, of the season that fed it, of the rituals that glorified or directed its harvest. Agriculture can have more than a memory; these seeds.

These farmers are preserving biodiversity in an era when genetically modified crops and hybrid crops dominate the market; future generations are inheriting more than just food, but also a heritage. Their piece of work makes us aware that sustainability is not a modern invention, but rather a notion with deep roots in tradition.

The Monsoon That Never Came

The monsoon in rural India does not mean weather conditions; it means fate. The rains, when they come punctually, bring about life. On their way down, they are abandoned in despair. Over the last few years, several parts of the world experienced an unfamiliar kind of heartache, a failed monsoon. Areas dry up, water wells dry up, and people flee into exile in search of survival.

Climate change is not a hypothetical fear of some scientist--it is something that bleeds with blood, and is stamped on the faces of farmers waiting for clouds that fail them. Their novel is not of the figures, but of bare barns, and deserted houses, and the silent endurance of people who still pray that it will rain.

Holding On

When rivers cease to have names, when the grain is turned into market-germs, when there is no more monsoon--so easily one can be overcome at the thought of this loss. However, resistance is also present in these stories. Societies are clinging to them: water, to seeds, to memory, and hope.

That is what we all need to learn: to be healthy in the future, we must remember what is gone, preserve what is left, and rethink our connection with the physical world.