Ashwani Sharma treks into the dense Shimla Catchment Forest to judge the wisdom of the let-it-be policy

There’s a message hidden somewhere in the dense green foliage of the Shimla Catchment Forest. Spread over 1,017 hectares along the Shimla-Kufri division of the Hindustan-Tibet road, it’s touted as Asia’s ‘‘best natural forest’’, by the state government. ‘Natural’ is the key word, since human interference is completely banned, and has been for more than a century. No forest-produce sourcing, no tree-felling, no human settlements. In fact, to say entry to the forest is restricted would be putting it mildly; only the most select tourists, study groups or conservation experts secure the municipal permission necessary to venture in.

UNTOUCHED BY HAND: The Catchment Forest, located along the road from Shimla to Kufri, is a study in green. Photos: PRABHA SHARMA

The outcome of this conscious policy of non-intervention is evident on every gnarled deodar trunk, every aging barking deer. This then is how nature meant it to be: Glorious, unspoilt, almost wanton in its pristine beauty, the forests are at once a landmark in conservation and an impossible aspirational standard.

The story of the forests begins with Koti’s Rana Raghubir Singh, a wealthy hill chief, who surrendered the land to the British in 1880 for a waterworks scheme. British engineers tapped the small natural springs criss-crossing the area to provide their summer capital with 21 lakh gallons of water; it was primarily because of the importance of the resource that the forest was declared out of bounds. Earlier, during the Rana’s time, tree-felling was reportedly rampant in the area south of the Mahasu ridge.

Over time, as water scarcities in the hill town became more and more acute, the informal non-intervention policy crystallised into something more solid; it remained that way even after the forest became government property in 1947 and its administration passed into the hands of the Shima Municipal Corporation. ‘‘Water stored in the Catchment Forest reservoir is still the mainstay for Shimla during the summer months’’, says J D Bhardwaj, till recently a chief engineer in the state irrigation and public health department, in charge of Shimla’s drinking water supply.

Contrast this with any of the other forests in Himachal Pradesh, pockmarked by encroachments, illicit tree-felling and so-called developmental activities. Under forest settlement rules, local settlers have rights (hence, right-holders) to harvest minor and major forest produce, including wood, fodder and medicinal herbs. The government also allows tree-felling at concessional rates for the purposes of construction, repairs and pyres. Besides, of course, road-construction and similar work is permitted in all forests except wildlife sanctuaries if the Union Ministry of Environment and Forests.

The Catchment Forest — or, as local taxi-drivers call it, the Hasan Valley — though, has no right-holders at all; what it does have are loads of fauna, including leopards, barking deer, musk deer, goral, koklas and pheasants literally running wild in a forest dominated by oaks, blue pines and deodars (it was notified as a sanctuary in 1958). Dead and fallen trees decay and turn into humus, fertilising the soil for future generations of plants. ‘‘It is nature’s best gift to this part of the Himalayas. That’s why we’re letting nature take care of it’’, says Avey Shukla, state financial commissioner-cum- secretary, forests.

But talk about replicating the policy elsewhere, and the red-tape emerges. Experts predict that any efforts towards this end would involve socio-political issues and blow up so much as to obscure the real motives altogether. With forests predicated to human welfare,
‘‘any attempt to take away the rights of the right- holders and ban human entry would require huge compensations to be paid’’, says Shukla.

In fact, the government has been down this path as well: A couple of years ago, it withdrew all rights to the Great Himalayan National Park, Kullu, after handing out compensation totalling Rs one crore. But completion of the legalities had little impact on the people; they still enter and plunder the forest of its resources.

So far as the Catchment Forest is concerned, the state forest department deliberately lets the SMC look after it; the government, in fact, went back on a decision to transfer the forest to the department some years ago after appreciating the way it was being handled. The civic body’s involvement — the annual budget for this is between Rs 40 lakh and Rs 50 lakh — extends to protecting the forest against illegal felling, wildfires, encroachments, plant diseases and unauthorised entries.

That is not to say, however, that all quarters agree with the way the forest is maintained. Environmentalist Yogendra Chandra, who is associated with the World Wildlife Fund for Nature and INTACH, for one, believes that the growth of trees in the forest needs to be thinned scientifically in some of the 35 compartments to allow better growth. ‘‘There have also been reports of illicit felling and encroachments in the fringes and, more seriously, of poaching’’, says Chandra, who’s also a Congress MLA.