Mission Possible - The Northern Edge!

Arriving from Delhi for breakfast with Rajeev Khedkar at his Comfort Zone home in Pune was interesting. It was to occur to me later that the poha cooked by him (Rajeev) would be the best for the entire trip. 

Pandu, Sharma and Vijay

Vijay and saarthi Ravi travelled from Sangamner (about 160 from Pune) to drive us through the northern Western Ghats over next six days. Vijay's knowledge about the region came handy in making a sense of the twists in the travels. His bio-cultural perspective on WG should lead towards creating a new set of writings on WG - region wise - as a potential new way of documenting the region. I hope it turns out to be a time-bound exercise over the coming months. However, it would need to be thought through with other similar persons to make contributions from other parts of WG. A serious but doable task!

It was shocking to see at least 15 big irrigation dams in Pune, Ahmednagar and Nashik districts, spread over several hundred hectares. With Western Ghats mountains all around, the site seems ideal for such structures. But the villages are sparsely inhabited and poor. With the Ghats being compressed basalt, the lush grassy cover is not necessarily ‘fodder’ and hence no large cattle herds roam anywhere. The terrain is surely tough, and yet people continue to live. What are the ‘compelling’ factors that override the ‘constraining’ factors for people to continue habitating the region? Can we draw their ‘kundli’ (check left column at kanjarcare.blogspot.com to get a brief reflection on what I mean by ‘kundli’.) to make some sense. I also think some assessment of the ecosystem services (especially water) should make sense in highlighting the virtues of WG. Perhaps, very few in Mumbai realize that the water they flush comes from WG. Efforts in this direction would enliven the discourse on WG. I think important is to locate such questions for finding new answers.

I would imagine ‘sacrifice’ to be an important take home from this trip. The Malin tragedy (see Day 2 below) should be capitalized to recreate the value of conservation in people’s mind. The day can be observed in some form to connect with wider audiences. I suspect if many people travel to the disaster site. The sacrifice of the non-descript humans should not go waste. Human psychology has special place to value such sacrifices, and we must not let it pass.

Follows below is day-wise itinerary

Day 1: Started from Pune at around 1200 hrs, and reached Ahupe village via Manchar. Dimbhe dam was sighted on the way. We had to stay at the house of an Adivasi under most compelling conditions but had good interaction with him about their lives and challenges. Worst, there was power shutdown for better part of the evening. A perfect start to an interesting journey.

Malin: The Eco-Disaster Memorial

Day 2: We started from village Ahupe , which is tucked in the Western Ghats at an altitude of 3,000 ft, and is 140 km from Pune. We also went to Ghoregaon, Junnar, and Naneghat where we went up to the majestic cliff which is on old trade route from Paithan to Kalyan and so on. We visited a sacred grove in village Talmachi, where Tiger is the deity. Total distance covered 145 km. It was painful to visit perhaps the only eco-disaster memorial site in Malin village where a landslide had consumed 151 lives during the monsoons of 2014. The memorial has names of women and children who had perished in the tragedy.

Day 3: We had started the day from the Tulsi Vihar Agro-Tourism Madh Village on the Kalyan-Nirmal National Highway in Junnar block of Pune district. We visited Otur, Brahamnvada, Kotul and Rajur villages in Akole block of Ahmednagar. We observed the landscape and recorded the changes the area is going through. We visited 11th Century temple in village Ratanwadi, and also the Ghatghar Hydel Project. Staying at the ecotourism site in tent was first such experience for me. Total distance travelled was some 169 kms.

Day 4: We located the Sanket Guest House in the district town of Ahawa in the region called Dangs in Gujarat, which is about 32 km from the tourist town of Saputara. We had started the day from Waki small-dam site (where we had stayed in tents) near Bhandardara irrigation dam in Akole block of Ahmednagar district. On way, we visited one of the 12 Jyotirlingams in Triyamabkeshwar (from where Godavari originates) and went to the only of its kind coin museum (Shanti-Krishna Museum of Money & History) at Anjaneri village on the Nashik highway. Met young Yogesh at the same village, a potential case for initiating a ‘Gen-Next Fellowship’ program to engage with next generation in understanding the value of WG from a distinct 21st century perspective. Total distance travelled during the day was 180 km.

Day 5: Dangs turned out to be picturesque and forested landscape though teak plantation was heavily infested. Ayurvedic practitioner Yogesh at Subir village told us that adivasi life is shattered on account of forest destruction and outside influences. We travelled to the very beginning of the Western Ghats at Navapura, and travelled back to reach Nashik through pesticide-loaded grape plantations. Amidst it we found a Bee Centre-cum-Park for children’s picnic at Pimplegaon Baswant - a good concept but badly executed. The agro processing centre by the same guys is a recent start. Stayed at Shri Siyaji Hotel on the outskirts of Nashik during the penultimate day of our WG yatra.

with Ashok and Jyotsna

Day 6: A visit to NIPHA wines on the outskirts of Nashik was the high point of the trip. Ashok-Jyotsna run winery offers the perfect combination of Science (Ashok)+Arts (Jyotsna) of wine making. They are deeply involved from producing grapes to fermenting wines of different flavors. They are great teachers, demystifying many myths about the so-called organic wine. They sell about 15,000 bottles a year and are into profit. In their case, it takes almost a year to make wine whereas commercial setup like Sula bioengineer the process into just 3 months. It is a inspiring case of entrepreneurship.

Our next stop was at Ojhar water user cooperative - 24 WUAs engaged in water distribution and management from dam Waghad on Kolvan River. Met Sh. Ramnath Wabale who explained the work of Samaj Pariivartan Sanstha. The cooperative water distribution is running for some 29 years now, and it only led to the birth and success of Sahyadri Farmer Producers Company. After lunch, Pandu and Sharma departed for Mumbai whereas Vijay and Ravi left on their 80-km home bound journey to Sangamner.

Epilogue: All credit goes to Pandu and Vijay for planning the agenda-less trip, and for Ravi to ferry us around without any fuss. Bhakri (Jowar roti) was lead cereal during the trip, alongside local vegetables. 

(The travel was conducted from Dec 22-29, 2019. and many of its findings are still relevant.)

King Cobra on a train

Not long ago on board a night train through the Western Ghats, I dreaded if a king cobra would not be travelling along. Yes, on the train. In the recent past, a 10-feet long king cobra was captured in a train to Dehradun. This wasn’t a freak event. More and more reports of snakes on trains have hit the headlines in recent years. What if the snake were to give us the dreaded company? Be it venomous or not, a snake creates panic and may raise the risk of harming both people and the snake. 

When it hit the big screen in 2006, Snakes on a Plane was no more than a fantasy that wasn't altogether improbable. During the second World War, the voracious brown tree snake reached new islands in the Pacific Ocean by climbing onto landing gear of a plane. Snakes are notorious and sensational travelers. Not many could believe that venomous snakes often travel on trains in India. The inadvertent hitchhiking appears to be transporting these deadly creatures to unknown places.

A recent study published in Biotropica takes a closer look at these reports which put snakes in unsuitable habitats. Many such encounters are reported each year in the country. Snakes adjust to the new habitat with ease. That is why snakes travel anywhere and everywhere. It must be said that snakes find the train habitat convenient. One reason for the snakes to hop aboard might have to do with their burrows being flooded, causing the reptiles to seek dry shelter. 

So, finding a snake a few feet away on a train is quite a possibility. Although it could be on any train, but it is more in the case of trains passing through Goa. King cobra has reportedly been caught aboard on many trains. Snakes are agile climbers, maybe getting onto freight trains when the trains stop near their habitats. They are good hunters too, as freight trains carry grain/fruit to attract rodents, lizards, or other snakes including rat snakes.

But if an apex predator like king cobra establishes itself in a new environment, it could have huge ecological implications. Even lone introductions pose a risk to humans especially if a king cobra arrives in a place where people have never dealt with a venomous snake of that size before...by Sudhirendar Sharma

Not by design but WGEEP subsumed peoples' voice

Mr. Jairam Ramesh, Minister of Environment &
 Forests, at the Kotagiri SWGM. Dr Sudhirendar
Sharma, Latha Anantha and Pratim Roy can be
seen sitting at the dais. 

  

Renowned ecologist Madhav Gadgil is known to have shifted the paradigm on nature conservation discourse, by giving primacy to rights of the marginalized communities for whom the forest was home. As chairman the Western Ghats Ecology Expert Panel (WGEEP), constituted by the Ministry of Environment & Forests in 2010, the panel proposed stringent environmental safeguards in ecologically sensitive zones across the Western Ghats. Rooted in scientific evidence and fieldwork, it recommended decentralized decision-making and community participation. The report triggered intense political resistance and public debate, not a single state government fully supported its implementation. 

How the Western Ghats Ecology Expert Panel come into being?   

Diverse social groups and individuals joined hands in establishing the Save Western Ghats Movement (SWGM), which organized a padyatra that brought activists from Gujarat to Kerala to collate into a movement in Goa under the leadership of Mr Kalanand Mani. The padyatra was hailed by India Today as one of the finest post-independence environmental movements, but the mid-1980s march along the pristine 'ghats' withered away on account of internal squabbling between the organizers. 

There was long silence thereafter! It was between year 2006 till 2008 that the Delhi-based activist-journalist Sudhirendar Sharma got an opportunity to travel across the ghats to capture the latent energy among diverse actors to reignite the past. The month-long travel was guided by Pandurang Hegde, who carried the painful memories of the historic padyatra. The colorful travelogue Paradise Lost....almost left much to the imagination. Despite apprehensions it was agreed to let an outsider from the region guide the movement. 

Two important congregations of activists, researchers, scientists, artists, politicians and thinkers were organized under the aegis of Save Western Ghats Movement - an informal platform of civil society actors promoting conservation. The first in 2009 in Ponda (Goa) revived the erstwhile movement of the mid-80's and tabled the environmental challenges. It was so designed that the participatory meeting was considered a grand success. The Keystone Foundation volunteered to host the next such meeting at Kotagiri (near Ooty) on the condition of its moderation by the 'same outsider'*.  

The second congregation in Kotagiri in 2010 was a major milestone as it led to the setting-up of the Western Ghats Ecology Expert Panel by the Ministry of Environment & Forests. The then Union Environment Minister Mr. Jairam Ramesh chaired the meeting and paid serious attention to SWGM demand for setting up of the 'Western Ghats Ecological Authority'. From the dais itself, the minister sought advice (from his Delhi office) on making a public announcement in that regard. But protocol demanded that an expert group or a committee should go into the pros & cons of setting up such an authority. 

A day later after Feb 2010 meeting, the formation of WGEEP was formally announced under the chairmanship of (late) Dr Madhav Gadgil. Representing SWGM, researcher-activist. Latha Anantha worked very closely with WGEEP in delivering its ambitious report. Rest, as it said, is history.          

*Sudhirendar Sharma

The green sari in tatters

“The Western Ghats are naturally an important focus of sustainable development efforts. The protector of the Indian peninsula, the mother of the Godavari, Krishna, Netravathi, Kaveri, Kunthi, Vaigai and a myriad other rivers, Kalidasa likens the Western Ghats to a charming maiden; Agasthyamalai is her head, Anaimalai  and Nilgiri the breasts, her hips the broad ranges of Kanara and Goa, her legs the northern Sahyadri. Once the lady was adorned by a sari of rich green hues; today her mantle lies in shreds and tatters. It has been torn asunder by the greed of the elite and gnawed at by the poor, striving to eke out a subsistence. This is a great tragedy, for this hill range is the backbone of the ecology and economy of south India.”

These words of veteran ecologist Madhav Gadgil remain among the most evocative descriptions of the fragile mountain range. They also remain among the most ignored. Gadgil passed away on January 7, 2026, whose lifelong struggle to protect the Western Ghats remains tragically unfinished.

Even in his final years, as age and illness weighed on him, Gadgil continued to speak, write, and argue for the Ghats. Often unheard, sometimes ridiculed, and frequently dismissed as “anti-development,” he persisted with quiet resolve. At a time when rapid infrastructure expansion had become synonymous with progress, his voice sounded inconvenient. Yet his concern was simple and unwavering: development should not mean disaster, and growth should never come at the cost of the poor or the environment that sustains them.

Gadgil helped shape landmark environmental legislation; devoted his entire life to protecting the “lady adorned by a sari of rich green hues.” For him, conservation was not about locking forests away from people. It was about recognizing communities as custodians of nature, not obstacles to development.

In 2010, the Union government appointed him head of the Western Ghats Ecology Expert Panel, later known as the Gadgil Commission. The panel’s report called for stringent environmental safeguards in ecologically sensitive zones of the Western Ghats. Rooted in scientific evidence and fieldwork, it recommended decentralized decision-making and community participation. The report triggered intense political resistance and public debate across six States. Yet, despite the urgency of its warnings, no government fully supported its implementation.

Internationally, Gadgil’s work earned him admiration. In 2024, he was named a laureate of the United Nations Environment Program’s Champions of the Earth award, which is the UN’s highest environmental honors — recognizing his lifetime contribution to ecological science and community-led conservation. He was one of the six laureates that year. At home, however, he lived an increasingly isolated life, as a new era of development emerged in which his ideas and his report were seen as impediments rather than guidance.

Among his most enduring contributions was the establishment of the India’s first biosphere — Nilgiri Biosphere Reserve in 1986. His work there was not confined to data and maps. He trekked through the forests, lived among communities, and studied the sacred groves, believing that ecological knowledge resided as much in local traditions as in laboratories. Gadgil was deeply critical of both extractive development and authoritarian conservation.

With Gadgil’s death, India has lost a rare voice, one that argued relentlessly that environmental protection and development are not opposing goals. For him, true development was rooted in scientific rigor, ethical responsibility, and social justice, with local communities at the center of natural resource management.

The green sari he mourned decades ago continues to fray. The question he leaves behind is stark and unresolved: will India finally listen or will the silence around the Western Ghats grow as deep as the forests he fought to protect. First published in the HinduBusiness Line by Radheshyam Jadhav on January 08, 2026.

Sahyadri Summit 2026

It is in recent years picturesque Western Ghats have come into undesirable news. Floods of unprecedented nature, forest fires and devastation caused by landslides affected many regions in this biological hotspot declared as UNESCO World Heritage Site. Also known as the Sahyadri, it is a mountain range that stretches 1,600 km along the western coast - in the states of Gujarat, Maharashtra, Goa, Karnataka, Kerala, and Tamil Nadu. It is an almost continuous chain of mountains along the western edge of the Deccan Plateau, from the Tapti River in Gujarat to Swami Hoppe in Kanyakumari.

The Summit is being convened as an essential get- together of consciences minds across the region to deliberate on local and regional environmental issues and to assess its potential in national and global climate change. It will meet small groups and individuals across the distinct landscape to learn and draw inspiration from their pioneering conservation efforts. It will be an inter-generational get-together to draw collaborative efforts for future action.

The Summit is being organized from January 24-26, 2026, in Wayanad, Kerala.

Western Ghats: The timeless value of its flora

The ground was a black, pitted surface and a white mist touched it with an old familiarity. A little drizzle lay on the proceedings: suspending rather than falling on petals, eyelashes, bark and skin. And through the mist, there were flowers—tens of thousands of flowers: blue swishing against white, dark pink with light pink, purple nodding against yellow, masses of electrifying pink on pink. The colors ran over the dark lunar-like slope in a frenzy, candy swirls melting into the ground.

We stood there, taking in the scene, trying to fold in our bodies to avoid damage to the flowers. Impatiens lawii was all around us, the flower pink with a purple throat—the color of a rich, syrupy cocktail you have with friends when the sun is going down. Then there were purple flowers, layered with a lighter centre—Utricularia, a bladderwort species. They stood next to tiny white flowers which were reminiscent of carrot blossoms. Yellow, daisy-like Linum mysorense nodded gently. Near them were “mickey mouse” flowers—yellow petalled with red dots, looking like the ears of an animated childhood friend, like the plant would start speaking. Malabar larks whipped into the blooms, their wings a blur, their crest an exclamation. Frogs sat in rock pools. Crabs hid under grass. We were on the Kaas plateau in Maharashtra, and everything was urgently and vividly alive.

Every year in the post-monsoon time, around September, the lateritic plateaus of Western Ghats burst into dramatic blossom. Formed by continuous volcanic deposition, many of these plateaus appear flat, and so are also called tablelands. In summer, they look bare, even barren. Wind whips the land and the sun is pitiless. The soil is thin, appearing almost non-existent. But that is the nature of the area: harshness is its feature. And as usually is the case, this is a twin to abundance. Come monsoon, the plateaus soak up moisture, helped along by the porosity of the rocks. Streams gurgle. Rock pools high up the slope well up again. And the few centimetres of soil reveal riches—native wild flowers, colourful and mesmerizing, full of the energy of little things that don’t have a long time to live.

And what plants they are. Between Kaas, Mahabaleshwar and Panchgani, we spotted marvels. The pretty pink impatiens—named so because their seed pods explode impatiently when touched—were ubiquitous. You may have another kind of impatiens in your garden. But on the plateaus, there were also fewer familiar plants. One had a striking pink flower, with arms splaying out in the aspect of an underwater octopus. The tentacles were covered with sticky drops, and the syrup on the drops gleamed with the promise of dense, luminous perfection. It was like pulling the sun into a glass jar, or seeing an heirloom moonstone in an old cupboard. This is the Indian sundew, a plant that shows teeth. Or to be more specific, a plant that eats insects— lured in by that fabulous “dew”. The numerous purple flowers running over the plateau were also insectivorous— bladderworts with “bladder” like portions which snagged insects. There were other plants that were parasites, yet other which were epiphytes— orchids with delicate, ephemeral blooms that took turns flowering, depending on the month. In the rock pools, we saw the mist reflected whenever it stopped raining. A leech or two probed the air like a heat-seeking missile. Endemic plants grew in precarious places—the Konkan pinda with its white flowers was on the edge of the cliff in Panchgani. And the Flemingia nilgheriensis and Delphinium malabaricum, also endemics, had complex clusters of dazzling purple flowers. They grew with the forbearance of something which has adapted to its very own corner of the world.

We may not realise it, but plants chart our lives. We eat them, we gift them on dates, we are felicitated by them on stage, we walk in their shade. But mostly, we leave plants alone; lavishing our attention on things that talk back to us, or things that seem to be listening. The rock plateaus of the Western Ghats, also called the Sahyadris, have plants that don’t really need us. Like the best of wild flowers, in the aspect of the rare Himalayan Brahmakamal, or southern India’s glory lily—they do best without manure, without artificial watering, without swathes of pesticides. They contain generosities which reveal the true nature of the land: that these are places that support not just life, but thriving of life. That these are places that display the true turnings of the season, the true spectrum of nature—bare at one time, fabulously verdant in another.

Like most nature geeks, I confess I have a special interest in carnivorous plants, in a creature that looks like one thing but behaves like another. In Satyajit Ray’s horror story The Hungry Septopus, Ray writes about a man who collects these plants. In this pursuit—a genteel chase which becomes an obsession—he brings home a plant that grows into a human-sized being, always hungry. At a certain time of the day, the powerful plant produces a smell—a kind of seductive fragrance that makes others lose their wits. You’ll have to read the story for the rest. But in the real world, sign me up for plateaus full of insect-eating plants. Because this means the plant evolved to fill a niche that others were not occupying, its own space on the mountains, so to speak.

Seeing masses of Utricularia is a reminder that there is an entire world in the roots, where the “bladders” are, and that water-saturated monsoon soil has many hidden mysteries.

Tourists who visit these areas do so to enjoy the flowers, the climate, and their own photos between the blossoms. Seldom do they come to see the value of the endemic flower itself, the bluster of the wind constantly bearing down on the rock, the resilience of the runnelled floor. Neither is it well-known that not all plateaus in the world produce masses of flowers, that many of these flowers are found only in that region, or even that locality; that this vegetation supports animals which are found only on that mountain or that point.

It is these blind spots that have led the authorities to misclassify lateritic plateaus or rock faces as wastelands; that have led misguided steps to dump soil on the land, or to build over it. This needs urgent correction. These areas have survived centuries, we must ensure they survive our plans. These plants and their habitats don’t need our care; but they certainly need us to leave them alone, and give them a chance to live unencumbered by invasive plants, concrete and mass tourism.

Whether we pay attention or not, plants present a daisy-chain of importance. They show us the places that support life, and through their own bodies, they support other creatures. They show their deep knowledge of the land, unlocking memories of natural abundance; of how the place may have looked decades, tens of decades ago.

At this time of the year, plants are not the side show but the main event in the Western Ghats. May we remember their names and remember to tread softly.

As we climb down the tableland, I ask myself: Can we keep growing like plants? Can we open our minds to the possibility that something that looks bare can also be fruitful? Can we, in essence, allow a small, non-verbal plant to change our view of the world?

Neha Sinha is a conservation biologist and author of Wild and Wilful: Tales of 15 Iconic Indian Species. 

Western Ghats: A Living Archive

The Western Ghats, also known as the Sahyadri, meaning benevolent mountains, stretches along the western coast of the Indian peninsula, spanning six States: Gujarat, Maharashtra, Goa, Karnataka, Kerala, and Tamil Nadu. Known as one of the world’s most biodiverse regions, the Western Ghats were once celebrated for their breathtaking natural beauty — cascading waterfalls, lush greenery, and a dazzling array of flora and fauna. Today, however, this idyllic landscape faces a stark transformation. Climate change, deforestation, the decline of traditional livelihoods, land encroachment, and the displacement of tribal communities have left the region in peril.

For years, writers in various regional languages have sought to capture and preserve the narrative of these alarming changes, believing in the transformative power of words. what was once a symphony of chirping birds in now being gradually replaced by the relentless roar of heavy machinery in many places. 

The novella, Chronicle of an Hour and a Half, by Saharu Nusaiba Kannanari, which was shortlisted for the JCB Prize for Literature 2024, explores powerful themes such as the effects of rumor, mob mentality, social media-and hinting that something ominous awaits. Set against a fictional village in the foothills of the Western Ghats, the novella, which begins as a harmless exchange between two individuals, spirals into chaos through social media. Within an hour, the community descends into mass hysteria. In the background, nature reflects the emotions of the community, mirroring the escalating tension and chaos. 

The inter-personal relationship between humans and nature in poignantly highlighted in Kuvempu's Malegalalli Madumagalu (1967) translated by Vanamala Viswanatha as Bride of the Hills (2024). Met in the Malnad region in the Western Ghats, where people are closely tied to the land, relying on its fertile soil, forests and rivers for their livelihood, nature in revered not only for its practical role in sustenance but also for its spiritual significance, with rituals and local deities tied to agriculture cycles. Yet the novel reflects the growing tension between traditional harmony with nature and the pressures of modernization and exploitation. 

What was once a symphony of chirping birds is now being replaced by heavy machinery

An exploitative cycle 

Development, coupled with human greed, makes the lives of tribal communities difficult. In Kocharethi; the Araya Women written by Narayan in Malayalam which won the Kerala Sahitya Academy Award in 1998 and was translated into English by Catherine Thankamma in 2011, the theme of exploitation and marginalization is vividly portrayed through the struggles of the Adivasi community. As industrial development, moneylenders, and land grabbers encroach on their ancestral territories, people are pushed into deeper poverty and displacement. The novel focuses on how outside forces often exploit the land's natural resources, disregarding the community's cultural and spiritual connection to it. 

In Ringaan, written in Marathi by Krushnat Khot, who won the Sahitya Academy Award in Marathi, the protagonist returns home to rescue a buffalo. He reminisces about his childhood and the harmonious life he once lived. The book highlights important aspects of migration, struggles of displaced victims, and the persistent man-animal conflict.

Loss of traditional occupations 

Rampant quarrying, deforestation, illegal mining, and poorly planned construction projects have destabilized the fragile ecosystem. B Viju's Flood and Fury: Ecological Devastation in the Western Ghats (2019) connects these activities to increased occurrences of landslides, floods, and soil erosion. The book delves into the historical and cultural significance of the Western Ghats while critiquing the apathy of governments, corporations, and society toward environmental conservation.

The Nilgiri Hills - A Kaleidoscope of People, Culture and Nature (2023) by Paul Hockings brings together stories and articles to highlight various aspects of the Western Ghats. The book sheds light on several topics as ancient metallurgy, music, the making of honey, and the degradation of the ecosystem.

Resistance and resilience

When livelihood, land, culture, and identity are at stake, resistance, and resilience are the only means of safeguarding them. In Valli, written by Sheela Tomy in Malayalam in 2019, we learn of a tribal community's deep connection to the forest, which sustains them both physically and spiritually. The novel highlights the strength and perseverance of the Adivasi people as they navigate the complexities of modern life while fighting to preserve their heritage and connection to the land.     

Through old and contemporary works on the Western Ghats, authors have stressed that the Ghats are more than just a landscape - they are living archive of culture, memory and resilience. Yet, this fragile ecosystem is scarred by encroachment, where tribal people are uprooted, natural resources are destroyed, and policies fail to protect what matters most. - K S Swati, The Hindu (Feb 6, 2025).