The Western Ghats need protection. But who will protect the people who have protected them for generations?
When somebody sitting hundreds of kilometres away looks at Uttara Kannada on a satellite map, they see green.
Dense forests. Rivers. Hills. Valleys. Areca gardens. Sacred groves. Streams disappearing beneath thick tree cover.
But when we, the people of Malenadu, look at the same green landscape, we see something else.
We see our home. Our areca gardens. The narrow road that takes a child to school. The stream supplying water to a farmer's house. Grandparents who planted trees decades ago. Families living beside forests for generations.
We see Sirsi. We see Siddapur. We see Yellapur, Joida and the countless small villages scattered throughout Uttara Kannada.
That difference is at the heart of the controversy surrounding the Kasturirangan Report and the proposed Western Ghats Eco-Sensitive Area (ESA).
And this is why the issue cannot simply be reduced to “development versus environment.”
For Malenadu, the real question is much more complicated: can we protect the Western Ghats without punishing the very communities that have lived alongside and protected them for generations?
First, What Is the Kasturirangan Report?
The Western Ghats are one of India's greatest ecological treasures. They support extraordinary biodiversity, forests, wildlife and river systems. The region is under pressure from mining, quarrying, infrastructure, deforestation and poorly planned development.
Recognising this threat, the Government of India first constituted the Western Ghats Ecology Expert Panel headed by ecologist Madhav Gadgil. Later, another High-Level Working Group headed by Dr. K. Kasturirangan was established. The committee submitted its report in 2013.
Its approach classified much of the Western Ghats into two broad landscapes: a Natural Landscape — forests, wildlife habitats and relatively undisturbed ecosystems — and a Cultural Landscape — settlements, agriculture, plantations and other human-modified areas.
The committee estimated that roughly 60% of the Western Ghats was cultural landscape, while approximately 41% could be classified as natural landscape. It recommended protecting roughly 37% of the Western Ghats as an Ecologically Sensitive Area.
The fundamental idea was not unreasonable: protect the remaining natural Western Ghats from destructive development before they disappear. Few people living in Malenadu would disagree with that objective. We know better than most people how valuable these forests are.
The problem begins with where the boundary is drawn and how regulations are implemented.
Why Is This Suddenly Important Again?
This is not a dead report from 2013. The Union Environment Ministry republished a draft Western Ghats Eco-Sensitive Area notification on 31 July 2024, covering approximately 56,825.7 square kilometres across six states. The government has also indicated that the ESA could eventually be finalised state-by-state or through a combined notification.
That means the debate over exactly which areas should fall within the ESA remains extremely important for Karnataka — one of the states most affected by the proposal.
Why Are Sirsi and Siddapur Worried?
Sirsi and Siddapur are not ordinary urban landscapes. Areca gardens merge into forests. A house may sit beside a plantation. Behind that plantation may be a stream. Behind the stream may be government forest. The same pattern repeats throughout Sirsi and surrounding Malenadu.
This is precisely where satellite-based classification becomes complicated. From above, everything can look like one continuous green landscape. On the ground, that green patch can contain forest, private land, areca plantation, house, road, stream, sacred grove and agricultural activity all at once.
A satellite sees green. A farmer sees boundaries created over generations. That distinction matters enormously.
The Biggest Fear: “Will We Lose Our Land?”
This question deserves a factual answer rather than fear. The Kasturirangan framework does not automatically mean that every farmer living inside an ESA loses his land or house. The Environment Ministry has previously clarified that agriculture and plantation activities and normal activities of people living in the Western Ghats were not intended to be adversely affected.
So saying “Kasturirangan comes tomorrow and government takes everyone's areca garden” would be misleading. But that does not mean local concerns are imaginary. The deeper fear is about what happens over the next 10, 20 or 30 years — as families want to build, expand, start small businesses, or improve village infrastructure, and worry that living in one of India's greenest regions will make every improvement harder.
Sirsi and Siddapur Are Not Empty Forests
Malenadu is not an untouched wilderness without people. Humans and forests have coexisted here for centuries. Our landscapes contain betta lands, areca gardens, paddy fields, spice gardens, sacred groves, cattle routes, streams, village roads, temples and houses.
That creates a strange possibility: the people who maintained a green landscape can appear “more ecologically sensitive” precisely because they did not destroy it. Imagine two villages — one that removed most trees and urbanised, one that kept its plantations and forest edges intact. Satellite imagery naturally shows the second as greener. Should its people consequently face greater restriction? We should be rewarding communities for maintaining green landscapes, not making them afraid of conservation.
The Areca Farmer's Question
Arecanut is deeply integrated with the local economy. An areca garden represents decades of investment, and supports workers, agricultural shops, transporters, markets and families around it. If environmental policy creates uncertainty around land use, construction or future investment — even without directly banning agriculture — that uncertainty itself can influence the economy. Banks, investors and young people all think differently under uncertainty; landowners postpone investment.
That is why clarity matters. Farmers should know exactly what is permitted, what is prohibited, and where the boundary runs — not have to depend on rumours or one officer's interpretation.
The Problem With Drawing Malenadu From the Sky
Satellite technology is extraordinarily useful, but it cannot sit with an 80-year-old farmer and ask where his ancestral boundary runs. It cannot understand why one patch of trees is a sacred grove while another is a plantation. That requires ground verification: walking through the villages, speaking to Gram Panchayats, farmers, forest-dependent communities, scientists and local businesses — then drawing boundaries. Conservation becomes stronger when communities believe the map is fair.
Don't Turn Environmental Protection Into People Versus Forest
Malenadu needs both environment and development. We don't want mountains blasted apart — but we need roads. We don't want forests destroyed — but our children need schools. We don't want uncontrolled resorts occupying river valleys — but responsible homestays can create employment. That is the balance policy must achieve.
Why Young People Are Important in This Debate
Young people are leaving Malenadu for Bengaluru, Mysuru, Mangaluru and Pune. If establishing a business here becomes unnecessarily difficult, that migration accelerates — villages age, agriculture loses its next generation, and eventually the people capable of protecting these landscapes disappear.
Conservation without a local economy is not sustainable. Environmental protection should become an economic advantage for Uttara Kannada — through eco-tourism, premium areca and spice products, forest-friendly agriculture, responsible homestays, traditional cuisine and sustainable rural entrepreneurship. That is what green development should mean.
Uttara Kannada Should Not Become Another Bengaluru
At the same time, rejecting every environmental regulation in the name of development risks destroying what makes Uttara Kannada extraordinary. Unplanned resorts, hill cutting, quarries, garbage, traffic and river encroachment have hollowed out other hill regions in India — until tourists come to see nature that development has already destroyed. Sirsi does not need to become Bengaluru. The argument should not be “remove Kasturirangan and allow everything” — it should be “protect our forests strongly, but create regulations with the people who actually live here.”
604 Villages: Why Uttara Kannada Is Paying Attention
Local political opposition shows how sensitive this issue has become. Sirsi-Siddapur MLA Bhimanna Naik has argued against implementation in its present form, citing 604 villages in Uttara Kannada within the identified area, including 125 in Sirsi taluk and 103 in Siddapur taluk. These figures are part of the current political debate and should be checked against the final official village-wise notification once boundaries are settled — but even the scale of the claim explains why this isn't an abstract debate here. Every dot on that government map contains people.
Karnataka governments have repeatedly raised objections to the Kasturirangan-based ESA proposal, and Karnataka Minister Madhu Bangarappa has publicly stated the state government would oppose implementation, arguing that the land, agriculture and livelihoods of Malenadu residents must be protected. This is still an evolving policy and political process — a draft proposal is not a final rule — and this is exactly the stage when informed public participation matters.
What Should Sirsi and Siddapur Demand?
Not a slogan saying “no environment rules,” and not one saying “declare everything ESA.” Something smarter:
- Village-level physical verification before final demarcation
- Correct identification of agricultural land, genuine plantations and established settlements
- A meaningful voice for Gram Sabhas and local bodies
- Clear protection for existing houses, legitimate agriculture and ordinary livelihoods
- Encouragement (not permission gridlock) for small, environmentally compatible businesses
- Practical approval paths for hospitals, schools, drinking-water and essential infrastructure
- Extremely strict scrutiny for destructive mining, quarrying and mega-projects
- A detailed, public map every village can actually read
Transparency will eliminate half the fear surrounding this issue.
Protect the Forest. Protect the Farmer.
Malenadu does not need Delhi to tell us that the Western Ghats are precious. We wake up inside them. We drink their water. We cultivate beneath their rain. Our food, culture, festivals, agriculture, tourism and identity were shaped by these mountains. We have more to lose from the destruction of the Western Ghats than almost anybody else — which is exactly why our voice must matter when decisions about these mountains are made.
Conservation without people becomes conflict. Development without conservation becomes destruction. The answer lies somewhere between those extremes: protect the forest, the rivers, the wildlife corridors; stop destructive mining and reckless quarrying and uncontrolled construction — but also protect the farmer, the ancestral home, the legitimate plantation, the village infrastructure, the small business, and the right of Malenadu's next generation to build a future where they were born.
One Final Question
For decades, the people of Sirsi, Siddapur and Uttara Kannada lived among forests while much of the rest of the country cut its trees, expanded its cities and poured concrete over its landscapes. Today, our region remains green. That should be considered an achievement.
So when India decides how to protect the Western Ghats, it must ask one fundamental question: should the people who kept their land green be punished because their land is still green?
The answer must be no. The Western Ghats absolutely deserve protection. But Malenadu's people deserve protection too. The future of Sirsi and Siddapur cannot be decided only through satellite images, government files or political speeches. It must be decided with the people who actually live here.
Because Malenadu is not merely a forest on a map. It is our home.
Naturelty runs small-group trips through Uttara Kannada and the Western Ghats, and this land and these communities are the reason our work exists. We believe travel should support the places and people it passes through — not the other way around. Read more about our approach at naturelty.in.