The Forest Guard

This is their story. A story of willful walking. They form the lowest rung in the rigid hierarchy of the Forest Department, but theirs is the toughest. They walk through unimaginable terrains, throwing away their lives to unpredictable dangers for terribly long durations. The more fortunate guards may have a radio, but others live far away from home, in the middle of a forest, on top of a hill, that is inaccessible to those without reason. What motivates them to do this ungrateful job? Why would anyone want to accept this pathetic life? How do they do it?

A ‘Conservation Practices and Management’ tour to Protected Areas (PAs) in South India instigated my curiosity in trying to understand such questions. In my quest for answers, however incomplete, I interacted with forest guards, walked a little of the beats they monitor, experienced a little of their lives and shared some stories with them. From the few days spent in the many PAs we visited, the only unanimous answer seemed to be unbelievable. Guards and Rangers protecting forests in Kerala and Tamil Nadu seemed to be doing just that, for nothing else but passion and love for the forests and the beings that live in them. They did not actively ask for anything, their basic rights included, unless prodded by those of us who have the power to provide and who care enough to ask.

Imagine this. You are an anti-poaching watcher. You have to walk an average of 15km every day through the wet evergreen forests of the Western Ghats. The terrain is tough as hell, full of leeches and many other things that can make your life miserable. You have basic clothes on (if you’re lucky, you have shoes, otherwise its slippers), your weapon is a stout stick, you have 3 companions and you have to carry basic provisions for the next 2 weeks. Remember, any vegetables are bound to rot in 2 days. Among the 4 of you, there is 1 gun with some bullets, in case of a sudden encounter with elephants and any other equally dangerous situation. At the end of every day, you make a ‘shelter’ with 2 poles, a sheet above, 2 sheets on the ground and 1 sheet to cover yourself. You cook every night, eat the left-overs for an early breakfast and start walking again. There is no lunch. Your monthly salary is Rs.2,500 with no leave (except 2-3 days maybe for emergencies) and yours is not a permanent job. You haven’t got your salary in the last 6 months. Your home is 1 day away and you have to walk 7km and take 2 buses, which technically means even if you get to go home, it’ll be for a day, maximum. You have a wife, a small child and your parents to look after. Would you continue working as an anti-poaching watcher? How long do you think you would last? I know I wouldn’t last more than 2 weeks.

This is the true story of many of the men we met. Some are boys, around 20yrs but, they are indeed men. They are all chock-full of complaints about all the promised things they don’t get and how they miss their families. Yet, if you ask them why they continue to work, without a thought, they say that being in the forest, walking untrodden paths, and living a simple life gives them joy. Above all, ever so compassionately, they say that they do it for the protection of the forest and all the life it embraces. I initially found this very hard to believe. After all, they too are human beings with feelings, longings and wishes. But this was the consistent answer I got everywhere I went. There is another conviction that human beings are endowed with. Hope. Maybe it is hope that is walking with them, supporting them, carrying them, caring about them and nudging them towards the next sunrise. Maybe they bestow their senior officers, the Department, the Government and hence the people of the country, with immense trust. It might be characteristic of a simple man to be generous with his trust but trust is one of the most difficult virtues to uphold.

Maybe the story is similar in other PAs in India, even in other parts of the world. The least we can do is listen to them. Give them the self-respect that they seek. Try to understand at least a little of what they experience. Smile and laugh with them. Let them know that they are not alone in their crusade. You will be richly rewarded, as I have been, with a story and some wisdom that might have otherwise eluded you.