2025.08.19 (Vrindavan Today News): In a country where the finest of civilizations have sprung from the gentle lap of rivers, forests, hills, birds, animals, and soil, it is ironic—and tragic—that these very life-givers are now gasping for survival. India, once hailed as one of the most naturally resource-rich countries in the world, now finds itself in a deep ecological crisis. And the most harrowing part? It is not a crisis of scarcity, but of negligence.
Over the past two centuries, a fractured and colonially inherited education system has alienated us from the very nature that once defined our cultural and civilizational core. As a result, forests are rapidly vanishing, leading to soil erosion, loss of biodiversity, and depletion of rain-fed fertility. Fertile soil is washed away into the sea with the monsoon rains, leaving behind barren lands.
Water bodies—our traditional ponds, lakes, and rivers—once treated as sacred commons, are now in decay. Urban expansion and industrial dumping have turned rivers into waste canals. The submersible pump revolution has further exacerbated the issue. With the growing use of borewells, groundwater, once a shared natural resource, has effectively become private property. This silent appropriation has gone largely unnoticed, but its consequences are loud and clear: drying aquifers, vanishing wetlands, and poisoned rivers.
There was a time when community-led efforts ensured the upkeep of ponds, wells, and tanks. These local water bodies were desilted and cleaned annually—ritually, spiritually, and socially. They were treated as precious assets, not just storage units. Today, policymakers have disregarded these sustainable, cost-effective systems in favour of centralized infrastructure projects and commercially driven models. The very idea of public water heritage has been undermined.
Alarmingly, India has never conducted a comprehensive survey of its water reserves. Despite worsening droughts and floods year after year, there is no authentic or updated data on the availability, usage, or sustainability of our water resources. Without these fundamentals, even the idea of sound policy planning becomes a farce.
Every day, far more potable water is wasted on washing cars and patios than is used for drinking or domestic needs. Each year, the city grapples with acute water shortages by February or March. Yet, ironically, swimming pools in politicians’ homes remain full, while water tankers—now monopolized by organized mafias—make fortunes out of the public crisis.
It is estimated that over 70% of India’s water is now polluted. This not only threatens aquatic ecosystems but contributes to a rise in waterborne diseases, eroding public health and productivity. The collective national indifference to this unfolding catastrophe is perhaps the greatest tragedy of all.
Nature, however, has its own ways of healing. But for any healing to begin, our policies must pivot around principles that are in harmony with the environment. Economic and social development cannot be meaningful if they compromise ecological integrity. Sadly, under the banner of development, we have erected structures that separate us from our environment rather than connect us to it. While science and technology have progressed, our ability to live in balance with nature has regressed.
True progress lies not in extracting more from nature, but in enriching it. Development must be a continuous, inclusive process that strengthens self-reliance, simplicity, and well-being across all levels of society. But such a vision will remain utopian unless we nurture the five elements—earth, water, fire, air, and space—both inside and outside us. National resilience is not possible without ecological stability. And ecological stability is not possible without community participation.
We must tread carefully with our consumption patterns. We must restore faith in our cultural wisdom. We must listen—really listen—to the voices of fisherfolk, potters, tribals, herders, farmers, and those who still walk barefoot upon the soil. Our ancient traditions have much to teach us, and mocking them in the name of modernity only deepens our ecological wounds. The intellectual sterility and social hostility growing in these manmade deserts will never bloom with fragrant night jasmines—they will only breed more thorny cacti of discontent.
Nature does not need us. But we desperately need nature. The sooner we realize this, the better our chances of survival.
