The crisis of the Western Ghats is not a new one, but a slow accumulation of colonial curiosity and well-intended forestry errors. In 1804, British officials brought Lantana camara to India as a decorative shrub; in the 1980s, Senna spectabilis was introduced to provide shade for coffee. These strangers eventually overran the landscape, choking the Devakad—the sacred groves—and silencing the diverse undergrowth that once held the mountain soil in place.
When the rains came in July 2024, the instability of these invaded lands turned lethal, as landslides tore through the villages of Chooralmala and Mundakkai. It became clear that the forest needed its original guardians. The Forest First Samithi began a partnership with local Adivasi communities, recognizing that those who have lived among these trees for generations possess the precise ecological memory required to bring the forest back from the brink.
The work is physically demanding and requires a patient eye. Tribal workers identify and protect the rare, endangered trees that the IUCN Red List warns are vanishing, ensuring that wild edible fruits and riverine species return to the banks of the Kabini River. This river, a primary tributary of the Kaveri, depends on the sponge-like quality of a healthy forest floor to maintain its flow. By clearing 426 acres of varied landscape, from riparian buffers to landslide-prone ridges, these communities are securing the water supply for millions downstream.
There is a quiet dignity in the way the removed timber is handled. The invasive Senna trees, once a parasite on the land, are being repurposed by local residents into furniture and building materials. In the restored sanctuary of Ettaekkar, the canopy is beginning to close again. It is a slow, methodical reclamation—a moment where human labor and ancient knowledge combine to repair a landscape that had almost forgotten its own name.