Editorial: Introduction Before Conservation

The public appeal of the Forest Department to save Gyamtsona is welcome. Gyamtsona, or the puddle that remains of it now, is the only brackish water lake in Sikkim and one which used to be so big at one time that apart from its name meaning “Ocean Lake”, it also was the only lake in Sikkim with “noisy waves”. This lake, which falls on the traditional trade route to Tibet [before Nathula and Jelepla rose to prominence] across Kongra La in the notorious “Fingertip” area of North Sikkim survived thousands [perhaps even more] of years of human traffic, but withered away within decades of falling under the watch of people uninitiated on the significance of the water body. The Forest Department, which made the appeal to save Gyamtsona as part of the World Biodiversity Day observance in Gangtok organized a slogan-writing competition for students on the appeal. While involving students in issues of environment and biodiversity is well intentioned, the irony of inviting them to write slogans to save a lake which none of them has seen underlines things which are going wrong with biodiversity conservation efforts. Without a face to face introduction, conservation is not possible. Too many issues of pressing concern like climate change and water for example, languish in alienation. A more involved approach should be attempted if the earnestness of the young is to be leveraged to reinforce conservation efforts. A talk on Gyamtsona will excite interest, but a longer lasting commitment to conservation will require a visit to the marsh that it has become now and hearing the yak herders speak of what the Ocean in the Sky used to once be like. But that is no longer easily arranged anymore because visiting the lake requires army clearance even for locals, and this is not easily organized. In fact, it was the hardening of the border which killed the lake. As the border with Tibet was closed even for the Dokpas [yak herders of North Sikkim] despite the fact that their lifestyles have evolved to include seasonal migrations across the passes, army was deployed in huge numbers to guard the border. The cold desert of North Sikkim was never bountiful and the Dokpas knew this well, which is why they lived scattered across the pastures and moved often to allow the limited natural resources to replenish. When the army was stationed in this sparse land, they arrived without enough briefing on minimizing their footprint and unlettered on the requirements of conservation. Experts believe that it was the diversion of a small stream draining into Gyamtsona by the armed forces personnel stationed there some decade back which eventually led to its drying up. This lake is a remnant of the Tethys Sea, which means it was formed at the time when the Himalaya was created by the crushing together of two continental plates. A lake of such antiquity should have occupied a special place and handled with much more respect than the senseless intrusion which killed it. Saving what remains of Gyamtsona and achieving any meaningful progress towards conservation will have to begin with more direct introductions to what is at stake. This is not empty speculation. Most children in Gangtok do not know where the water they get in their taps at home comes from. Inviting them to get involved in conservation efforts around Ratey Chu will thus fetch only superficial engagement. Conservation efforts will also require for the personnel posted in the forward regions [which are invariably more ecologically fragile] to first undergo a detailed briefing on what makes the regions special and what they environmental code of conduct should be like. And then Sikkim needs to sponsor more visits by experts to study and document these regions better so that even the State is better informed and speaks with more conviction when it speaks of conservation.