Nature vs humans vs development

This week, while crossing Bhimtal on the drive down from Almora in Uttarakhand, I commented on how the once-sleepy village around the lakefront had morphed into a crowded, tourist destination. “Indeed it has,” said taxi driver Ashok Singh, who turned out to be from Bhimtal. “It used to be surrounded by jungles till 20-odd years ago — but the growing demand from tourists and real estate developers has made Bhimtal a wonderful place to live today,” he added. I covered my nose to avoid inhaling exhaust fumes as we crawled to a standstill amid heavy traffic and continued with the conversation.

“Earlier, the forests here teemed with dangerous animals,” Singh said. “Wild boars would destroy our crops while leopards would carry off livestock. Every now and then, herds of wild elephant would uproot trees, tear down roofs and trample crops.” Since tourism wasn’t well developed at the time, people depended upon the agricultural income that was constantly threatened by these wild depredations. Consequently, most young men migrated to larger cities in search of work. “As children, we could only go to school in large groups for the fear of leopards,” Singh continued. “So, many who could afford it, would send their children out to study.”

When hotels started coming up on the lakefront, animal encounters became more and more infrequent. Farmland was replaced by vacation homes, timeshare resorts and hotels. “With all this development, things have improved,” he said adding “with the leopards mostly gone, our children are able to come and go freely”. Tourism and real estate development have caused land prices to rise substantially. “Many people I know have sold their land at very good prices,” he said. Thanks to the growth in tourism, there are more job opportunities today than ever before. Migration, Singh said, had somewhat reduced as a consequence. 

“Last year, when my younger brother completed his studies, my father invested in a small dhaba which he now runs,” he narrated. “I own the taxi I drive, and by the end of next tourist season, aim to buy another car.” Singh said that this new growth of employment opportunities was enabling some of his peers to return to the comfort of their homes. In the olden days, when Bhimtal was a jungle, this would be unheard of.

It was clear that for Singh, every road built and every hotel constructed in Bhimtal was a victory against nature, which he felt had oppressed them all these years. Perhaps, I suggested, tourists were coming for the very forests and pristine nature that the “development” he liked so much was endangering. “The lake has always existed here, but tourists started coming only once hotels, dhabas and shops came up,” he countered. “A day will soon come when all the neighbouring areas will be similarly developed — Sattal, Naukuchiatal and beyond!” I bit my tongue, suddenly ashamed that my heart bled more for hills and forests, trees and animals than it did for the people who lived amid them. Perhaps this disconnect is the reason tourism and development in such ecologically fragile zones has been anything but sustainable.

Meanwhile, we passed yet another construction site on the lakefront. Singh looked at it approvingly, “the gods are finally smiling on the people of Bhimtal”. All I could do was bite my tongue again.