A Concerned Uttarakhandi (Chandan Nayal)
On the night of May 23, 2026, when I set out from home on a short trip, I had no idea that this journey would shake my soul so deeply. As soon as I left home, the forests between Dhari, Odakhan, and then Kwarbh were burning fiercely in the silence of the night. That fire wasn’t just burning the trees, it was burning deep within the heart of the land of Gods.
The next morning (May 24), as we moved on from Almora, the scene grew more horrific. From Almora to Gwaldam, and then from Gwaldam to Narayanbagad, and then to Karnaprayag… the forests on both banks of the life-giving Pindar River were engulfed in raging flames. It seemed as if the lush green valleys had been cursed. From Karnaprayag to Srinagar, and then to the highlands of Tehri, there was nothing but smoke and fire as far as the eye could see.
On our return journey, as we headed towards Thalsain via Pauri, the entire area, from about 5-7 kilometers after crossing Pauri until the dense oak forests began, was turning into a pile of ashes. From Thalsain to Deghat, Bhatrojkhan, Bhikiyasain, and Ranikhet—the story was the same everywhere. Chamoli, Pauri, Uttarkashi, Rudraprayag, Nainital, Champawat, Almora, Pithoragarh, Bageshwar… Today, there’s hardly a hill district left in Uttarakhand that isn’t grappling with this horrific tragedy.
Our pine forests, in particular, are now a powder keg.
Nature’s deteriorating balance: Where did these unknown creatures come from?
During this trip, I noticed another very strange and frightening thing. Wherever we stopped—whether a shop, a dhaba, or a village home—we saw extremely tiny creatures (insects) hovering around in large numbers, smaller than mosquitoes. Every village is now teeming with these creatures.
Where did they come from? Have these massive forest fires and rising temperatures devastated our ecosystem to such an extent that nature is now signaling new dangers? This is indeed a matter of deep concern and research.
Pain, Helplessness, and a Burning Childhood
We couldn’t help but stare at the raging roadside fire. We stopped the car at several places and tried to extinguish the fire, but the flames were so fierce that we had to retreat. In some places, large burning stumps were falling from above, and in others, smoldering trees were falling onto the roads.
Watching our heritage turn to ashes before our very eyes is a compulsion that breaks us to the core.
A big question: Today, the forests of Uttarakhand are constantly burning, but who cares? Who is setting these forests on fire? Have the people of our own villages become so heartless that they would set their own homes on fire? Or is there a deep, deliberate conspiracy behind this?
Uncontrolled tourism and the burden of concrete
Our disorganization is adding insult to injury to this tragedy.
People are increasingly fleeing the heat of metropolitan cities, seeking the cool air of the mountains. The result? 5- to 6-hour traffic jams between Karnaprayag and Srinagar! Vehicles are thronging in the name of the Char Dham Yatra. Roads are becoming too narrow, the mountains are gasping, and the temperature is constantly rising due to garbage and vehicle exhaust.
Where is our Uttarakhand headed?
What future are we heading toward? Will we leave behind only mountains of ash, smoke-filled skies, dry rivers, and uncontrolled concrete jungles for the next generation?
This Devbhoomi is not just a tourist destination; it is our home, the legacy of our ancestors. If we—the government, the administration, and the citizens themselves—do not awaken from this dormant consciousness, it will be too late.
These forest fires aren’t just burning trees, they’re destroying our water sources, our clean air, and our very existence.
Think! Because now there’s no time left to think; now is the time to wake up.
