Chapter 5: Sukha (The Drought)

August arrived without rain. The without-rain being: not the normal August pause (the pause that Pune's monsoon sometimes took — a few dry days between wet spells, the dry-days being the monsoon's breath between exhalations). This was: cessation. The monsoon stopped. The stopping being absolute — no drizzle, no clouds heavy enough to produce anything, the sky transitioning from monsoon-grey to a blue that was wrong for August, the wrong-blue being the colour of January sky appearing in monsoon month and the appearing being: the anomaly's latest expression.

Bhushan stood on his farmhouse balcony and looked at the Sahyadris. The Sahyadris that should have been — the Sahyadris in August were the greenest thing on Earth, the greenest being the monsoon's particular gift to the Western Ghats: rainfall measured in metres producing the green that was not just colour but identity. The Sahyadris were green. The Sahyadris were monsoon. The Sahyadris were the place where rain lived.

The Sahyadris were turning brown.

Not dramatically — not the overnight browning of a killed lawn. The browning was gradual enough to be denied ("Bas dry spell hai, next week barish aayegi" — Just a dry spell, rain will come next week) and consistent enough to be undeniable. The consistency being: each day slightly browner than the last, the slightly being the increment and the increment being cumulative and the cumulative producing: a landscape that was losing its colour and the losing being the loss and the loss being: the Western Ghats without green was the Western Ghats without identity.

Charu noticed. The noticing being the nurse's observation — the observation that tracked changes in patient condition: the patient being the landscape and the landscape's condition deteriorating.

"Bhushan, garden ki mitti sukh rahi hai. Bore well ka level gir raha hai." The garden soil is drying. The bore well level is dropping.

The bore well. The bore well that was the farmhouse's water source — the source that had been reliable for three years and that the reliable was now: questionable. The level dropping 0.3 metres per week — the 0.3 being the measurement that Bhushan took with a rope and weight because the measurement was the ecologist's instinct: quantify the change, the quantifying being the first step of understanding.

"Chitra ko paani ki kami se problem ho sakti hai," Charu continued. The medical assessment — the assessment that connected the environmental to the personal: water scarcity affected vulnerable people first and vulnerable included a seven-year-old with a heart condition.

The water shortage could be a problem for Chitra.

"Abhi tak shortage nahi hai. Monitoring kar raha hoon." Bhushan — the reassurance that was also the admission: monitoring meant the situation warranted monitoring and the warranting was the concern.

There's no shortage yet. I'm monitoring.

The WII team arrived in Pune on August 8th. Dr. Arun Sharma — tall, quiet, the quiet being the particular disposition of field scientists who spent more time observing than speaking — established a base at the university and began coordinating with Bhushan.

"Data sets chahiye mujhe," Sharma told Bhushan at their first working meeting. "Historical baselines — species counts, seasonal patterns, rainfall data, temperature records. Last twenty years minimum."

I need data sets. Historical baselines — species counts, seasonal patterns, rainfall data, temperature records. Twenty years minimum.

Bhushan provided. The providing being: twenty-three years of personal field data, the data that Bhushan had collected since joining the university — the data being the ecologist's treasure, the treasure accumulated through decades of mornings in the field with a clipboard and binoculars and the clipboard-and-binoculars being the tools that produced the baseline against which the anomaly could be measured.

Sharma's team deployed to field sites. Five sites across the Western Ghats — Mulshi, Mahabaleshwar, Amboli, Castle Rock, Kudremukh. The five sites being the transect, the transect that would determine: was the anomaly localised or widespread? Was it concentrated or diffuse? Was it stationary or moving?

Results came in over two weeks. The results being: consistent across all five sites. Wildlife suppression confirmed. Behavioural changes documented. And the data producing one observation that was new:

"Soil microbiome changed ho raha hai," Sharma reported at the weekly coordination meeting. The meeting attended by Bhushan, Sharma's team, and two WII-affiliated PhD students.

The soil microbiome is changing.

"Matlab?" Bhushan — the question that the ecologist asked when another ecologist said something unexpected because the unexpected required elaboration and the elaboration was the data.

"Soil samples from all five sites show reduced microbial activity. Bacteria populations down 40%. Fungal networks — mycorrhizal networks — disrupted. The underground network that connects trees, that distributes nutrients, that allows the forest to function as a system — that network is degrading."

The mycorrhizal network. The network that Bhushan's students called "the wood-wide web" — the underground fungal network that connected trees' root systems, the connecting allowing trees to share nutrients, to communicate chemical signals, to function as a forest rather than as individual trees. The network being: the forest's nervous system. The forest's internet. The forest's brain.

"Agar mycorrhizal network degrade ho raha hai," Bhushan said slowly, "toh trees affected honge. Trees affected honge toh forest affected hoga. Forest affected hoga toh —"

If the mycorrhizal network is degrading, trees will be affected. If trees are affected, the forest will be affected. If the forest is affected —

"Toh ecosystem collapse," Sharma finished. The finishing being: the conclusion that neither wanted to reach but that the data demanded.

Then ecosystem collapse.

Ecosystem collapse. The two words that ecologists used sparingly — the sparingly because the words were the discipline's apocalypse, the apocalypse being: the system that sustained all life in a region ceasing to function, the ceasing being: irreversible.

"Kya hum sure hain?" Bhushan asked. The asking being: the resistance, the resistance of a man who did not want the conclusion to be true. Are we sure?

"Data sure hai. Interpretation — woh debatable hai. But agar current trend continue hua, mycorrhizal network six months mein functional nahi rahega is region mein. Uske baad — trees die. Uske baad — everything dies."

The data is sure. Interpretation — that's debatable. But if the current trend continues, the mycorrhizal network won't be functional in this region within six months. After that — trees die. After that — everything dies.

Tarun broke the story the next day. The story that was: the Herald's front page, above the fold, the above-the-fold placement being Raghav's decision based on the story's gravity and the gravity being: ecosystem collapse was not a regular news story, ecosystem collapse was a civilisation story.

WESTERN GHATS FACING ECOSYSTEM COLLAPSE: UNDERGROUND FUNGAL NETWORKS DEGRADING, SCIENTISTS WARN

The article producing: panic. The particular Indian panic that manifested not as chaos but as activity — WhatsApp groups formed, Twitter threads exploded, television news channels dispatched crews to the Western Ghats, the dispatching being the media's particular response to panic: amplify, the amplifying producing more panic, the more-panic producing more amplification, the cycle being: Indian media at full throttle.

Bhushan's phone rang constantly. The constantly being: journalists, television producers, government officials, environmental NGOs, concerned citizens, the concerned-citizens being the largest category and the largest-category being the particular demographic of Indian environmental concern: urban, educated, anxious, the anxious-urban-educated being the demographic that shared articles and signed petitions and attended rallies but whose sharing-and-signing was the action and the action was: attention, which was what the investigation needed.

The government responded. The responding being: faster than Bhushan had expected, the faster-than-expected being the government's calculation that ecosystem collapse in the Western Ghats was a political crisis (the political-crisis being: the Western Ghats ran through six states — Maharashtra, Goa, Karnataka, Kerala, Tamil Nadu, Gujarat — and the six-states being the political geography that multiple Chief Ministers cared about and the caring being: votes).

A committee was formed. The committee being: the National Committee on Western Ghats Ecological Anomalies (NCWGEA), the acronym being the government's particular contribution — the contribution of an acronym that no one could pronounce but that the unpronounceability was irrelevant because the committee's function was not its name but its budget and the budget being: three crore rupees for initial investigation.

Three crore. The amount that made Bhushan pause — not because three crore was insufficient (it was a start) but because three crore meant the government believed and the believing meant the situation was serious enough for the government to spend money and the spending-money being the government's particular barometer of seriousness.

And while the committee formed and the budget was allocated and the scientists converged, the drought deepened.

Day 30 without rain. Mulshi's bore wells dropping. The dropping being measurable: 0.5 metres per week now, the acceleration from 0.3 to 0.5 being the trend that trended in the wrong direction.

Day 35. Pune city implemented water rationing. The rationing being: water supply alternate days, the alternate-days being the conservation measure that Pune implemented during droughts and that the implementation in August was: unprecedented. Pune rationed water in April and May — the pre-monsoon months. Pune did not ration water in August because August was monsoon and monsoon was water and water was abundant.

Not this year.

Chitra asked: "Baba, barish kab aayegi?" Baba, when will it rain?

Bhushan looked at his daughter. The looking being: the father-look that contained the father's knowledge and the father's inability to share the knowledge because the knowledge was: I don't know, and the I-don't-know being the answer that fathers were not supposed to give because fathers were supposed to know and the supposed-to-know being the parental contract.

"Jaldi, beta. Jaldi aayegi." Soon, sweetheart. It'll come soon.

The lie that was the hope. The hope that was the lie. Both being: the father's language.