Every year, without fail, we celebrate World Environment Day with great pomp and show. Dignitaries ranging from the Prime Minister to Chief Ministers, Governors, ministers, and bureaucrats gather around a small pit, plant a sapling, pose for photographs, and deliver passionate speeches about environmental protection. Social media lights up with posts of green shoots and slogans like “Go Green” and “Plant for the Planet.”
But beyond the cameras, what really happens to those saplings? Who waters them? Who ensures they grow into full-grown trees? And more importantly — where are they now?
Let’s be honest — we don’t see these “thousands of trees” growing along highways, inside government campuses, near schools, or in our cities. If even a fraction of the saplings ceremonially planted each year had survived, Goa — and India — would be significantly greener today.
But instead, we see the reverse: shrinking tree cover, vanishing mangroves, chopped banyan trees, and forests sacrificed at the altar of development.
The bitter truth is that Environment Day, like many other days of symbolic significance, has been reduced to a token ritual — an event to tick off from the annual calendar.
It’s a feel-good moment for those in power to showcase a commitment to the planet, without any meaningful follow-up. No one bothers to check whether the sapling survived a week later, let alone a year.
This is not a critique of any one political party or leader. It’s a systemic failure that cuts across ideologies.
Whether it’s a government in Delhi or a panchayat in rural Goa, the pattern is the same — plant a tree for the photo, and forget it by sunset.
In the meantime, large-scale deforestation continues unabated. In Goa alone, hundreds of mature trees, especially ancient banyans and peepals, have been cut to widen roads or build infrastructure.
These trees are not just old; they are ecological giants. A 100-year-old banyan tree supports entire ecosystems — birds, bats, bees, and more. Replacing them with saplings is not a like-for-like compensation.
There have been attempts to “transplant” such trees, especially along highways. But let us not kid ourselves. Tree relocation in India rarely works — not for lack of technology, but for lack of care and long-term planning. Most transplanted trees die a slow death.
This contradiction is glaring: on one hand, we speak of “sustainable development” and plant saplings in ceremonies, and on the other, we fell full-grown trees to pave the way for concrete.
It’s time to move beyond symbolism.
If we truly care about the environment, we need to implement a monitoring mechanism for every tree plantation drive.
Each sapling must be geo-tagged, assigned to a department or authority for maintenance, and monitored for survival rates. Survival audits must be conducted yearly, with penalties for departments or contractors if trees die due to neglect.
Second, compensatory afforestation must be more than just a box to tick. It should be based on ecological value, not just numbers. You cannot cut down a 200-year-old tree and replace it with 10 saplings of ornamental species and call it even.
Third, there must be public disclosure of plantation and survival data. Citizens have the right to know where trees were planted, how many survived, and who is responsible.
Lastly, we need to instil respect for trees as living beings, not props. A tree is not just shade or decoration — it is a silent worker that cleans the air, supports biodiversity, cools urban heat, and absorbs carbon.
World Environment Day should not be about speeches and selfies. It should be a day of accountability — to look back and see what we’ve truly done for nature. Because if we continue this charade of ceremonial planting without real commitment, we’re not just fooling the public — we’re signing a death warrant for our own future.
The Earth doesn’t need empty gestures. It needs trees. Alive, rooted, and growing — not just in pits of mud, but in our conscience.
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