Forestry is one of the foundations of our daily lives. Forests are not merely collections of trees; they are ecosystems that sustain birds, wildlife, soil, water and, ultimately, human beings. The loss of a forest is therefore not simply the loss of greenery—it is a loss to the entire community.

There is a small forested tract of land beside the Ferozpur Nallah, between the villages of Zalpora and Sultanpur. At the time this story begins, both villages were part of Baramulla district; today, they fall under separate districts—Bandipora and Baramulla. The tract, measuring approximately 100 kanals, has been under the supervision of the Rakh and Farms Department.
Once, this land was a beautiful willow forest. It was a green landscape designed by nature itself. Birds filled the air with their songs, bulbuls moved among the trees, and nests were carefully built by birds that seemed like masters of their craft. The forest was alive with colour and sound.

Turmoil of the 1990s

From around 1989 onwards, much of what had once existed began to disappear. The disturbance that engulfed society also had consequences for the forest. According to oral accounts from local residents, people began cutting and taking away trees from the forest, with the extent of the illegal extraction sometimes depending on the manpower available within a household.
The period of militancy, and subsequently the rise of the Ikhwan, also contributed to an environment in which the protection of forests became increasingly difficult. Fear, insecurity and alleged local influence weakened the ability of forest employees to protect the area. There were also allegations that some employees favoured relatives or acquaintances in the illegal removal of forest produce.
This raises an uncomfortable question: If society itself was passing through such a difficult period, why did the forest have to become another victim?
When trees were cut, birds were displaced. Nests were destroyed. Young birds fell from their nests when trees were felled and, in some cases, died. A forest is not just timber. It is a home.
The location of this particular forest made it especially vulnerable. Being close to human settlements, the trees could easily be cut, transported and used. At the time, many households were heavily dependent on traditional firewood-based chulhas. The forest consequently became an easily accessible source of fuel for households preparing their stocks for winter.
According to oral accounts, when news spread that trees were being taken from the forest, some people reportedly abandoned their routine work for the day and joined the extraction. Whether every such account can be independently verified is another matter, but these memories remain part of the local history of the forest.
The forest guard, too, appears to have been caught in an impossible situation. On the one hand, there were allegations of personal involvement or pressure from relatives; on the other, there was the fear created by militancy and the Ikhwan period. In such circumstances, the capacity to protect the forest was severely compromised.

The Result is Visible Today

A forest that once stood green and vibrant has largely become a deserted tract. Yet, remarkably, portions of the land still retain willow trees. They are a reminder of what the entire landscape once looked like—and of what it could become again.

A Failure of Afforestation

The greater concern today is not merely what happened in the past, but what has failed to happen since then.
The Rakh and Farms Department has, according to local observations, not undertaken adequate measures to restore and afforest the degraded portion of this land. Decades have passed, yet the barren portions remain largely waiting for regeneration.
The principles of forest conservation and afforestation have been part of India's environmental policy for decades, and the National Green Tribunal Act, 2010, further strengthened the country's environmental adjudication framework. Yet legislation by itself cannot create a forest. Forests require action, planning, funding, protection and long-term commitment.
Had systematic afforestation been undertaken on this land over the years, today's landscape could have been very different. Instead, negligence and a lack of sustained responsibility appear to have allowed a historic opportunity to pass.
There is an irony here. Earlier generations, even during difficult times, created forests that we continue to benefit from today. In our supposedly easier and more educated age, we are struggling to create new forests for the next generation.
We are consuming the legacy left by our ancestors without creating an equivalent legacy for those who will come after us.
Where forests still survive, we are often damaging them in other ways. Garbage dumping, pollution and careless human activity are increasingly becoming threats to forest ecosystems. The more educated we become, the more we seem to be losing our connection with the natural importance of forests.

We Must Plant for the Next Generation

The story of this small tract beside the Ferozpur Nallah is not merely the story of Zalpora and Sultanpur. It is a story that can be repeated across many parts of Kashmir and elsewhere.
The forest cover we inherit is not an unlimited resource. If we continue to depend only on forests planted by previous generations, while failing to establish new forests, we are borrowing from the future.
Government departments must identify degraded forest and wasteland, prepare transparent afforestation plans and ensure that those plans are actually implemented. Local communities must also be involved in protecting newly planted areas. Afforestation should not remain confined to files, schemes, tenders and announcements. The success of a plantation programme should be measured by how many trees survive and grow into forests—not simply by how many saplings are planted.
There is also an opportunity in the management of dead and fallen wood. Where legally permissible and environmentally appropriate, the sale or disposal of dead wood could generate resources that may be channelled transparently into forest restoration and afforestation. Such measures, however, must never become a pretext for cutting living trees.
The experience of the 1990s reminds us that forests can become silent victims of social and political instability. But the present generation cannot blame history forever. The responsibility to restore what was lost belongs to us.
The deserted portions of this land can still be brought back to life. Willow and other locally suitable species can once again provide habitat for birds, improve the landscape and restore ecological value. What is required is not merely a plantation drive, but a sustained programme of protection and regeneration.
Governance must therefore place forests higher on its agenda. Afforestation requires funds, awareness, monitoring and accountability. Local communities need to see forests not as sources of free fuel or timber, but as shared ecological assets.
The birds that once filled this forest with song did not understand militancy, government departments or administrative boundaries. They only knew the trees as their home.
We destroyed much of that home.
It is now our responsibility to rebuild it.
If we have forests, we have life. If we lose our forests, we lose a part of our own future.

Email:--------------------------moabdullah7866@gmail.com