Prakash Bhoir is Fighting for the Forest

A devout melody sashayed through the trees. “Our homes have been destroyed, oh leopard god, please come help us save the jungle” Prakash Bhoir sang in his local Marathi dialect, his impassioned words rising higher and higher with the lilting breeze. Then his voice broke, and so did the spell.

“I am tired of asking for help from my fellow humans. My plea, for years, has fallen on deaf ears. Now I am calling on my gods to come save us” he said in Hindi. Prakash Bhoir is a fiery Adivasi activist from Mumbai’s Aarey Milk Colony area. Like many other Adivasis, Prakash is employed in the city. However, besides working for the BMC’s water department, he grows fruits and vegetables, and forages from the forest, to sustain himself and his family. His family is one of few that live in Kelti Pada, an Adivasi hamlet located in the Aarey forest.

It comes as no surprise that this rapid encroachment on forest land has led to a sharp rise in human-animal conflict. Prakash addresses the situation with incredulity. “Just a few miles from here are the NSG Force-1 quarters. The other day an officer alerted me of a snake in his quarters. I was surprised that he thought it unnatural. I told him, the animals are not breaking into your homes, you have broken into their homes” said Prakash.

The Adivasis, however, have learnt to co-exist with animals. Respectful of the leopards of Aarey, they now know the big cats’ routes. People do not wander off after dark and most importantly, they understand that the predator too needs to feed itself to survive. Prakash often finds himself waking up in the night to the sound of a leopard clambering across his roof.

“Look, all we want is peace. An Adivasi is nothing without his forests.”

I looked over at the little red light that blipped erratically on a wooden post in Prakash’s garden, wondering what it was. Night had fallen, and the ambient chirrups of critters replaced that of the birds. Prakash who had followed my gaze said, “That is there to deter the leopards. The light makes them go away”.

As I mulled the scant protection the Adivasis employed in their daily life, Prakash chortled “I am telling you, we do not fear the leopards. We fear the politicians”

Prakash Bhoir has led many a protests against the destruction of Aarey’s biodiversity and the relocation of Adivasis from their ancestral lands. He expresses his disappointment in the people of Mumbai. “Aarey is an oxygen factory. The entire population of Mumbai depends on Aarey for clean air. Yet, whenever there is a protest, some 100 people turn up. Why?” questions Prakash.

Unflinchingly he calls out the government for its unsustainable afforestation drives. “They plant a hundred saplings, in small patches, spacing them less than a foot apart. Most of the saplings die, making these unscientific afforestation drives a total farce” he says.

“Look, all we want is peace. An Adivasi is nothing without his forests,” says Prakash, his voice tinged with emotion. Prakash looked over to his 21-year-old son who had been listening intently. He turned, gave me a small smile, and said “My children reassure me of our cause. They will fight this battle”.

A short walk away from his home, the city of Mumbai heaves. Its muffled humdrum is still audible in the forest. Prakash gazed into the darkness around him. A soft prayer escaped his lips “Waghdeva!” he says imploring the leopard god.