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What has COVID-19 taught us about disaster response? | IDR

Civil society organisations became the first responders during the #Covid19. Read about their response to the second wave as well as 4 key take-aways from it that can help us prepare for future disasters. Written by Natasha Joshi & Sahana Jose of Rohini Nilekani Philanthropies for India Development Review.

Published in IDR

If you were a disaster, where would you strike? How would you make sure no one can avoid you? When would you show up?

As a disaster, you will likely do one or all of these things: find the densest, most vulnerable populations that have few ways of protecting themselves; occur when society least expects you; and keep evolving so that everyone remains in a state of confusion.

COVID-19 has been this disaster, and the second wave earlier this year was ferocious. It caught most people off guard; accelerated at an incredible pace, leading to the wholesale collapse of an already shambolic public health system; and left silent epidemics we are yet to contend with in its wake.

As the crisis started to unfold, civil society organisations came into play the first and the fastest. Owing to their connection with the ground and vital intel, grassroots organisations became the first responders. But, at the same time, another remarkable effort swept across the country—that of ordinary citizen volunteers. People who had never participated in social service or relief efforts found themselves making calls for oxygen or rations, driving ambulances, tending to sick people, or raising funds. These volunteer coalitions added capacity and revealed the power of the public, despite the failure of public services.

To make sense of the second wave and our experience as funders, Rohini Nilekani Philanthropies convened a group of organisations that played an important role in relief efforts through the second wave.1 What emerged was a larger appreciation for the nature of disasters. Partners expressed the need to simultaneously look at building resilience, so that society can be better prepared, while also putting in place strong crisis management protocols, so that response and relief can be swift and efficacious when disaster strikes.

From this meeting we came away learning about four key areas that function as enablers (or barriers), along with questions around how work in each of these areas can be furthered.

1. Trust

Our partner organisations shared that trust played a vital role in getting people together to move quickly. Referral systems ensured trusted information came from the field, which improved the direction of fund and resource flow. Nonprofits with an already credible presence in certain geographies were able to build better relationships with the local government. In addition, access to politicians significantly improved response time to emergency requests. Citizen coalitions like the Covid Rural Response (CORE) are another example of volunteers tapping into pre-existing relationships to ‘make things happen’, including raising funds for such self-organised, informal networks that didn’t come under any institutional umbrella (something typically hard to raise funds for).

We realised the key here was pre-existing relationships or tapping spaces where trust already existed. In particular, partners attested to the value of their prior good relationships with well-meaning locally elected officials or community leaders, as these individuals were able to surmount regulatory bottlenecks well.

This raises the question: If trust is an ingredient for a resilient society, how can we invest in more trust building between multiple stakeholders?

2. Volunteerism

In any disaster, volunteers help add capacity on the ground. However, we obtained valuable feedback from field-based organisations on how and when volunteers are helpful versus when they get in the way. The second wave saw many volunteer networks kick into gear. But often different volunteer groups acted in isolation, which led to the replication of efforts that overwhelmed service providers (who were constantly being contacted by volunteers). There was a mismatch between the skills volunteers possessed and what field-based organisations needed in many instances. Within volunteer networks, institutional governance was also an issue—in case a volunteer dropped out, what they were working on left with them.

The question we must answer is: What are good ways to create open digital platforms where volunteers can register, be oriented, have their skills matched with needs, and have all this information shared in one place to avoid duplication while keeping volunteers engaged on a continuous basis?

3. Information and infrastructure

One common challenge in relief work pertains to the availability of timely, accurate, and verified information. The second wave relief efforts revealed that while there were many information gaps, certain institutions were underleveraged. For example, MyGov had comprehensive data on cases that at times local administrators did not have, but they weren’t aware that this data was available on MyGov.2 On the other hand, collaborations with primary health centres (PHCs) were successful for many nonprofits, indicating the potential for mitigation when basic public health infrastructure is in place.

For long-term resilience, greater engagement with the state and district disaster management authorities is also needed. There are certain cadres governments always call on in times of crisis—ASHA workers, Anganwadi workers, and often teachers as well. Ideating on ways to supplement the capacity and resources for these cadres is useful. For instance, one participant observed that Anganwadi workers could not visit villages for relief work as they did not have money for petrol. Bottlenecks like these are frustrating and ought to be removed.

To make progress on this front, we wonder: How can nonprofits, donors, and the government collaborate today to develop systems that will allow for better apportioning of resources in times of crisis?

4. Funding from a humanitarian lens

A tremendous amount of money was mobilised to deal with the second wave. Many donors radically shortened approval timelines and allocated large amounts towards relief efforts. Yet, many field organisations reported challenges with compliance and paperwork and funds being allocated towards what funders saw as useful versus the actual need on the ground. Two other things are common when disaster strikes:

  • All capital gets temporarily diverted towards relief-only work, leaving many non-relief-focused nonprofits in the lurch.
  • The silent and latent second and third order effects of the disaster such as livelihood shocks, relocation/migration, and impact on children (child marriage, missed immunisations, malnutrition, etc.) that arise downstream are not built into an overall relief plan.

A positive observation shared by field organisations and members of volunteer coalitions related to the emergence of ‘new-age funders’ (such as Ethereum), who were more open to experimental ways of self-organised and self-governed funding coalitions like CORE.

A question to explore this further is: What are some ways to engage traditional philanthropists, institutional donors, emerging new-age funders, and nonprofits in trust building for better disaster management? How feasible is it to create disaster-specific protocols that allow for information and pipeline sharing and faster unlocking of capital?

Building societal resilience against disasters is a complex, non-linear process that requires progress in multiple fields—health, education, livelihoods, climate, and technology. We hope to start with civil society.

The second wave showed us that civil society, when enabled, can bridge many gaps and serve as an equal partner to the state. Maintaining this trust is vital. COVID-19 blew open existing fissures in society, but it is not the last crisis we will face. With exacerbating climate change, society will find itself in the midst of small to big disasters. Pre-emptively building for that moment today can prove to be the investment we need for tomorrow. Can we out-think future disasters?

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Footnotes:

  1. Aapti Institute, Agami, Aveksha Hospital, Fields of View, Give India, Hasiru Dala, Institute of Public Health, Mapunity, Rainmatter Foundation, Rishabh Lalani (independent consultant), Sattva, Takshashila, and Swasth Alliance.
  2. Government of India’s citizen engagement platform which collaborates with multiple government bodies/ministries to engage with citizens for policy formulation and seeks the opinion of people on issues/topics of public interest and welfare.

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Know more

Do more

  • If you would like to join this small informal group in thinking and designing disaster-resilient systems for the future, please email natasha@nilekaniphilanthropies.org

Keeping the Hope Unbroken

It was wonderful to read the thoughtful, frank reflections of so many younger philanthropists on the future of philanthropy. What struck me the most was that almost everyone acknowledged the need to shift and broaden the centres of power, both within philanthropy and in society. It is a great irony that big philanthropy is made possible by a broken economic system that has allowed the unprecedented accumulation of wealth in the hands of very few.

Can those who benefit from this system be trusted to change it? I believe it is possible only if everyone, including super-rich philanthropists can recognise that a system which pools value so narrowly does not work for anyone for very long. Just look at the existential problems that we are facing in this century – especially due to anthropogenic climate change and global warming – also described as a massive market failure.

One small way to correct the imbalance would be to align endowment investments more closely with philanthropists’ missions. The other way would be to fund causes and efforts that give more agency to people across the power spectrum. Within philanthropy, the future needs to be more open, more transparent and hence more accountable in its practice.

A mirror is a must in the philanthropist’s hand

As one author wrote, we must break down the artificial divide between charity and philanthropy. After all, we are a social species and our desire to help others is rooted in our genes. Philanthropy can be much more trust-based; we must learn not to push down solutions ourselves but to distribute the ability to solve so that we can be more transformational. As philanthropy sheds its vanity project image in the future, it simultaneously needs to become bigger, bolder and more collaborative.

How can we jointly deploy resources that match the scale of the problems we are facing? In this digital age, philanthropy has the opportunity to be technology-enabled, though not technology-led. It can underwrite the creation of public digital goods to enhance participation, co-creation and knowledge sharing on a real-time basis. In the post-Covid world, we will have to run fast just to catch up to where we would have been on the SDGs without the pandemic.

The complexity of new challenges demands that philanthropy reimagines strategic partnerships across samaaj, bazaar and sarkaar, ie society, markets and the state to unleash contextual problem-solving at scale, with speed and with sustainability. Several new global collaboratives have sprung up recently to drive more such partnerships and to unlock the massive amounts of philanthropy that have been committed but not yet deployed, partly because of the paucity of our imagination and partly because of the lack of absorptive capacity on the ground.

This is very good news though there will be a steep learning journey ahead. I hope that in the next 25 years, as the philanthropists on these pages themselves become veterans, philanthropy will be more widely and truly practised as a trusteeship of wealth for society now and for the generations to come.

Alliance Magazine 100th Issue

 

Why Shutting Down Reserves to Prevent Covid Transmission to Tigers is a Questionable Move

A blanket ban could endanger wildlife and human livelihoods. India must seize opportunity to innovate to live with and reduce the risk from the inevitable future contagion

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India’s Project Tiger is a success by any measure. Our 51 tiger reserves now boast of at least 3,000 tigers. More and more Indians flock to safari parks to marvel at them and other spectacular wildlife. Nature lovers are impatient to return to the forests after the lockdown.

On June 7, however, the National Tiger Conservation Authority (NTCA) sent out a circular to the chief wildlife wardens of all the tiger range states.

Referring to the lioness at the Chennai Zoo, suspected to have died of a Covid-19 infection, it warned of the high likelihood of disease transmission from affected human beings to captive wild animals. It fears that a similar transmission may also happen in tiger reserves, and that they need to be closed for tourism activities until further orders.

The intent of the NTCA to protect our wildlife is to be respected. However, this particular directive deserves a wider public discussion.

Forests and wildlife reserves fall under the concurrent list. On most issues concerning state forests, it is the state chief wildlife wardens that are the ultimate deciding authority. This allows decentralised, contextual, and timely decision making in our very diverse ecospheres.

To mandate the closure of all state reserves with a stroke of the pen is vexatious. It has been quickly challenged in Madhya Pradesh, with its popular and lucrative safari parks. The timing of this decision, at a time when the country is planning to open up carefully, is also puzzling.

Tiger reserves in Karnataka, which, unlike those in central India, normally remain open throughout the year, were rightfully closed for almost two months in this brutal second wave. They are gearing up to reopen. Government and civil society organisations have used the lockdown time to educate, test, treat and, where possible, vaccinate communities living around the parks – be they forest staff, tourism staff or tribal communities.

As for tourists, the sad truth is that safari holidays are affordable mainly for the urban elite, and it is likely that they are already vaccinated, further reducing the risk to wildlife. Some reserves, therefore, may be even safer from human threat to the animals and vice versa than when they were opened some months ago.

There have been documented cases of SARS-CoV-2 anthroponosis from humans to zoo animals and domestic pets, though fatality has been rare. The crossover has come mainly from direct contact with infected humans, be they zookeepers or pet owners. There appear to be no cases anywhere in the world of free-roaming wildlife infected with Covid-19 through humans.

In any case, entry is strictly controlled in India’s tiger reserves. Jeeps and people are required to keep a distance from park animals. It is a safe gap even from affected humans, and that, too, in wide open spaces. With most people wearing masks, which should certainly be mandatory, there is ample additional precaution. Surely, local forest officials could themselves decide whether safaris are safe for people and wildlife?

Lakhs of livelihoods around these reserves have hung in precarious balance since the pandemic started. The impact of a prolonged shutdown needs a cost-benefit analysis, for the people who live there, but also for the impact on the wildlife that we aim to preserve. There is documented evidence from last year’s shutdown that more species of wildlife were being killed for subsistence.

The wildlife tourism economy brings in substantial revenue to state coffers. It also brings many caring eyes into the forests, which helps protect them from uncontrolled fires and poaching and, more importantly, creates incentives for conservation.

Even without tourists, forest officials and staff do go into tiger reserves to do their routine jobs. Lakhs of tribal people live close to or inside these parks and have the right to collect minor forest produce. It is not desirable or possible to exclude them from the forests they help preserve.

There is ample wildlife outside the tiger reserves, too, including big cats that stray out. This is an indicator of success for flagship species conservation, and it is impossible to control. Is there then any real risk mitigation in shutting down just the safari parks?

Forest departments, instead, could seize this opportunity to prepare for future waves and pandemics. No one knows when the pandemic will fully subside. The lesson from this pandemic is that humans will have to innovate to live with and reduce the risk from the inevitable future contagion.

There are many opportunities to do so in tiger reserves, now, with a receding second wave. Non-invasive, bio-safe protocols could be set up quickly for species monitoring and wildlife surveillance. The threat of zoonoses from stray cattle and feral dogs near the reserves is already real. Spill-over dynamics could be better understood and widely communicated. Early warning systems could be designed for rapid action to prevent spread if any wild animal died from Covid-19. India has many competent environmental research organisations that, given half a chance, would enthusiastically assist in all these endeavours.

States could quickly launch such scientific research and prevention measures and decide whether their parks are safe to open. Sometimes, a blanket ban does more harm than good, as people globally have realised during this pandemic.

Decentralised, science-based decision-making could flip the narrative from fear to hope, from the illusion of control to the possibility of resilience. It is also a creative opportunity to invite citizens back into our reserves not just as tourists, but as trustees of our rich biodiversity.

Indian Express
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Laws and criminal justice: Where the Indian Elite can’t Secede

It is extremely important that the Supreme Court is re-examining colonial era sedition laws, which were repealed in the United Kingdom (UK) itself, but which no government in India has revoked, and in fact, each has used to stifle dissent. Sedition laws, however, are at the apex of a mountain of laws that need to be examined with fresh societal eyes.

Most of us believe we are good, law-abiding citizens. We have faith that laws are made with the highest public and private good in mind. We try to obey all the laws that we know of. By doing so, we participate in a society that is justly governed by the rule of law. We don’t worry much about going to jail or about the state of our prisons. We cannot imagine anything we do that could land us behind bars. And if we got caught by mistake, surely there would be a way around the problem? Jail is for others.

Is it time to revisit all these assumptions?

Many of our laws, when examined even cursorily, do not appear to propose punishments or jail sentences proportionate to the crime. Many also shift the burden of public order from the State and its apparatus to the individual citizen and his actions. These kind of laws can turn ordinary citizens into criminals with one deadly strike. Sadly, many have been passed without any legislative debate. Nor has there been widespread public discourse on things that should keep us all awake at night.

For example, did you even know that you could get arrested if you did not properly walk your dog? The maximum sentence is three months. Did you realise that flying a kite with banned thread can lock you up for two years? That driving an uninsured vehicle could get you three months in jail?

These are just a few examples. Yet, most citizens have found it difficult to apply themselves to issues of law-making or criminal justice.

Apart from all the harsh, even draconian, laws that have been around for decades and even centuries, there have been new laws and rules that give sweeping powers to the State. Mercifully, there has been a lively public debate on recent laws around free speech and privacy. In one such victory, Section 66A of the IT Act was struck down as unconstitutional. Other regressive speech laws still exist, but partly because of the ubiquitous use of social media, more citizens are realising the chilling effect on their lives.

Let’s take another recent example. The government invoked the Disaster Management Act of 2005, for the proper management of the pandemic. But some of the rules pertaining to Covid-19 could potentially make millions of citizens susceptible to sentencing, if they were to be strictly implemented. The spreading of fake news about Covid -19, including forwarding WhatsApp messages which are later found false, could attract up to a year in prison. Technically, not wearing compulsory face masks, without reasonable cause, could also put you in jail for up to one year.

Some of these laws are simply unimplementable or may not be on the radar of the officers of the State, who have the powers to make arrests under them.

But the point is that they are still on the books. And circumstances could turn in a way that someone could get into more trouble than is warranted by an unintentional infringement. All the laws I mention above have actually resulted in arrests.

Should such laws with such disproportionate punishment even exist? Should they be better understood before they are passed? Do they even serve the purpose and intent with which they are framed – usually public order and safety?

There is not enough evidence to show that severe punishment acts as the deterrent it is meant to be. Research shows that imprisonment under harsh conditions often results in a greater rate of more violent recidivism. On the other hand, there is encouraging data emerging from restorative justice systems, including the open jails in India. Can we use such evidence to re-imagine our retributive justice system to be more just, more humane and more effective at reducing crime?

So far, we, the elite, have not participated in serious public discourse on law-making and prison reform. The series of lockdowns caused many of us to experience a pale yet frightening imitation of what an actual incarceration might feel like.

Is this an opportunity for society, samaaj, to participate more vigorously in debating laws that criminalise too easily? And from there, to become more involved in the broader issues of criminal justice, including the human rights infringements in our overcrowded prisons, with 70% of inmates being potentially innocent undertrials?

The Supreme Court has now turned the spotlight on sedition. The pandemic has thrown light on the Disaster Management Act. It’s time for deeper conversations with parliamentarians and state legislators — our law makers, on how better laws can lead to a better society. In the case of Section 66A of the IT Act, such a dialogue led to its annulment.

India’s elite has managed to secede from every common public service — be it education, healthcare, transport, or energy. Pollution and the pandemic awakened us to the rude reality that we cannot secede from bad air and bad germs. Well, we cannot secede from bad laws either.

Hindustan Times

Philanthropy Should be Humble, but not Modest

Apart from building a flexible and resilient framework for the future, philanthropists, civil society and the government must work in tandem so that every rupee is absorbed on the ground

We can definitely say that civil society and the philanthropy sector stepped up rapidly in the face of the pandemic, March 2020 onward. Very quickly, personal philanthropy foundations, corporates and individuals pivoted their programmes to give immediate assistance and humanitarian aid to whoever they could find and trust. No matter what plans they had for their budgets in 2020-21, those changed to be largely dictated by the needs of people and institutions on the ground.

On the heels of that, most people and organisations also recognised the need to look at their portfolios, change the way they measure how they give, and be more open-minded. I know of several philanthropists who told civil society organisations that they will not hold them to hard indicators of impact and that they will be more flexible with respect to changing budget heads or responses as needed.

Within a few months, some of the more serious philanthropists realised the need to develop a flexible and resilient framework for the future, be it by supporting good leadership, allowing flexibility in creation of metrics for impact, allowing organisations to pivot based on the needs on the ground, rethinking how to move from project to programmatic mode, or even tweaking one’s theory of change itself.

Last year, while philanthropists had to immediately address Covid-19 relief needs, civil society organisations were changing how they work. Those working in water, in sanitation, agriculture, education or other areas had to shift their attention to pandemic-related work. So there was no choice for them or the funders in the past 1.5 years. Looking forward, however, things have to be different.

Philanthropic organisations have to keep their budgets relatively flexible to be able to respond to temporary disasters that are going to come at us, wave upon wave. I’m not being pessimistic, but realistic. We’ve had enough data over the past 10 years to see how droughts, public health emergencies or just market-related emergencies like the financial crisis hit us. Planning for what you cannot plan for is becoming critical for philanthropic organisations.

While we are still in the middle of the second wave of the pandemic, by the end of this calendar year, we should be in a better place to look at the future with calmer eyes. It will take building relationships of trust and discovery. What does this mean? Find the people whose work you believe in, whose ethics you can share, and support them generously without holding back. You can co-create your impact metrics and hold them accountable, but lead with trust. Once you do that, those civil society organisations will have more feet on the ground than philanthropists can ever hope to have. They will have the agency to respond contextually as needed. That is the kind of rethink that philanthropic organisations will have to do.

I’ve spoken enough about samaaj-bazaar-sarkaar (society-markets-governments) linkages. I support work based in the samaaj, because I think a strong and resilient samaaj enables good government and good markets as well. First of all, acknowledge that we need to invest in strong, diverse institutions and leaderships in the samaaj, because it is actors of the samaaj that are going to work to make society better. Having a strong civil society foundation not only allows the state to function better, but also allows markets to discover innovations and scale up. So it makes sense to invest heavily into samaaj even if you are a market enthusiast.

Some Indian civil society organisations also tend to be a little antagonistic toward the state, but those looking at solving problems should learn to work better with the state as and when they can, since everyone, especially the most vulnerable, benefit from an effective state. Civil society organisations need to also accept that markets can play a very complementary role to expand the work of the social sector. Everyone has a role to play in deepening the positive, trusting relationship between samaaj and bazaar. Both need to work better with the state and also hold the state accountable for delivering on its mandate of equity and justice.

We all know that many people are uncomfortable with the fact that a few of us are becoming so wealthy, while the rest of the people do not seem to be able to get a leg up. While this is not the space to give lectures on how inequitable the growth of capitalism and markets has been, we need to reinvent the system for it to be much smarter and strategic than what it is now. Those who are building wealth in the process of sheer innovation and by developing good institutions are also the ones that see the potential of rapidly giving forward, and today in India, we are seeing a resurgence of philanthropy from those who have become wealthy just in the recent past.

There is a lot of new philanthropy happening in India and I find it encouraging that the younger people are giving back sooner. They are saying, even if they make $500,000 by selling shares or being bought out, a portion of that will be reserved for philanthropy from the get-go. And that is exactly the kind of thing we want to see as more young people begin to get newly wealthy. This is what is going to separate them from the older generation. The latter often came from industrial houses, whose parents and grandparents had set up businesses that the next generation took forward, but as we know, the younger people do not feel they have full control over the wealth.

The new generation of youngsters that is becoming wealthy has no legacy to uphold; it can think completely freely and afresh, just like we did when Infosys shareholders came into wealth and a few others around us in the IT sector. Just like we were free to spend our money the way we wanted to, because it was not handed down generationally, this young crop is not only ready to do that, but they are also thinking completely differently, beyond even what my generation did. And I find that very exciting.

These youngsters are market-savvy, but not all are market fundamentalists. They recognise the potential of markets, but seem to understand their limitations too, which is why they seem to be mixing their portfolio between market-led investments and outright social non-profit giving. I like that, because one approach will inform the other, and both those together will also change the person who is giving. They are looking at societal impact in mixed ways.

The other departure from the previous generation that I see is that it is much more aware of environmental issues, because it is the climate generation. They and their children are going to face the brunt of the mistakes of my generation and the ones before me. They are willing to contribute toward making the markets more responsive toward climate challenge.

Some of the lessons to be learnt for these new young philanthropists in India is to come in with humility, experiment a lot, double down on a cause you really love and where you are able to find trusting partners. Keep an open mind, keep learning and keep on creating coalitions of philanthropic giving in your own networks, age groups and communities that are coming into wealth. Encourage them to partner with you in experiments of giving forward, because it is going to be one of the most fun things you are going to do in your life.

All crises also provide new opportunities, and the pandemic has brought all of us together to collectively do more than what we could do at an individual level. The ACT Fund, for instance, was so quickly set up during the lockdown and got such a huge response. It offered a great philanthropic model for the future, because apart from the super-rich people of India, there is a sizeable population of rich people who are willing to experiment with giving forward. They don’t really know how to do it, because unfortunately we do not have those many organisations that can trustfully support those who want to give, unlike in the West where it’s a whole industry. So having your peers set up a fund, deploying the social capital instantly through a platform like this, has been very attractive to a lot of people. So the ACT Fund worked well, and now it is being extended to causes beyond Covid-19 relief work as well. I know more collaborative funds like that are coming up. All these things point to unlocking much more philanthropic capital.

While we are doing that, we should know that the problem is not so much of philanthropic capital, but of absorptive capacity. There is all this philanthropic capital dressed up and ready with nowhere to go. Because we did not invest enough in building civil society institutions that can last and scale. It is no use pointing fingers at civil society because three fingers point back at the philanthropists. We did not invest in those institutions and give core funding. It’s like telling entrepreneurs, “Go out there and become successful, but I cannot support your office rent or even give you an accountant.” So as these young philanthropists come in and we talk about resilience and responsiveness, it is important to know that putting out philanthropic capital is not enough. We have to start learning the ropes of how to give in such a way that the next rupee and the rupees after that will be absorbed on the ground.

That said, we are all a bit confused and worried about why the government does not seem to have enough trust in the civil society institutions, or even corporate organisations, for that matter. Because the new changes in Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) laws are dense and baffling to many.

Similarly, it’s becoming difficult with the recent Foreign Contribution (Regulation) Act amendments. If we need to stop foreign funding, fine, but then we need to find ways to increase domestic funding. So that even if someone has ₹10 to give, it should be easy to give. In which case, we have to have a dialogue on what is the enabling policy structure that will deepen and widen Indian giving.

There is a lot of work ahead, because otherwise civil society organisations will go under. And while that might not be apparent as a problem right away, over time, you will definitely see a weaker society. Because civil society institutions very quietly do a lot of work that the state and markets simply cannot do. Even if they are tiny organisations, their contribution to nation- and society-building should not be underestimated.

Conversations with the government and deeper dialogues are required much more, so that we can understand and hopefully simplify some of the new rules that have come in. There is a breakdown of trust that needs to be rebuilt. It’s a two-way street. We need more transparency from civil society organisations, but we also need enabling policies; not restrictive policies that tie them down. The state has to be more in listening mode and involve more actors from civil society before such rules are made and thrust down. We need the government to explain what is the larger mission and goal. Once we are able to understand where the government is heading, and if we can have a little more dialogue and access, it will be hugely beneficial for everyone.

Looking into the future, there are a couple of changes required. First, the policy environment needs to improve. Two, both corporate and philanthropic foundations need to begin with trust and build out plans to support resilience.

Third, civil society organisations need to get their act together in a sustainable manner to represent their sector when policy shifts and emergencies like the pandemic happen, so that all can work seamlessly and hammer out common interests beyond ideological differences.

Then, of course, people who have come into so much wealth have to experiment with giving more freely. These one-off projects that make you happy are not enough. If you want serious social change as a philanthropist, you have to make multi-year commitments and long-term funding, along with generosity and curiosity.

Philanthropy should be humble, but not modest. They have to genuinely accept failure without glorifying it. I think the future of giving in India remains positive. We should steam ahead.

● As told to Divya J Shekhar

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What Lies Beyond the Great Anthropause

The virus has shown us the impact of a disregard for nature. Small changes to urban lifestyles could make a big difference

Recently, Apple TV released a documentary called The Year Earth Changed. It takes viewers through some delightful scenes of what happened in the world of wild animals while humans were forced to take a break from their normal activities due to the zoonotic pandemic. Leopards checked into safari resorts in Africa; deer, bears and even penguins strolled around urban areas; and dolphins and humpback whales sang free again.

For months, social media worldwide was abuzz with pictures and videos of animals and birds taking back what might have been theirs if it were not for us. Nature, it seemed, had returned to everyone’s backyard.

Yet we need to go way beyond the romance of beautiful photographs to understand what is really at stake here. We are still in the midst of the sixth mass extinction. It will take a radical shift in our development models for nature and wildlife to become truly resilient again.

It was a team of UK researchers writing for Nature Ecology And Evolution in June 2020 that came up with the catchy phrase “anthropause” to describe the global reduction of human activity and mobility during the pandemic.

Scientists have long tried observationally to measure the impact of increasing human footprints on different aspects of animal biology and behaviour. This knowledge is absolutely critical for the future. It helps us understand ecosystem connections and how to preserve biodiversity, how to prevent species collapse, how to predict zoonotic crossovers into human populations, and how to keep up with the environmental change that is speeding up around the globe.

The last 30 years have been particularly devastating for many species. The next 30 will determine whether they, along with humans, thrive or just about survive.

The anthropause gave scientists a never before opportunity to create and pool data sets across large geographies. New global collaborations are quickly developing to formalise the observation and sharing of such data to inform the future. Researchers want to use bio-logging and other strategies to uncover many mysteries. How do human-built environments affect the movement of non-human beings? Which species can adapt well to human activity and which ones are left more vulnerable? And most importantly, can small changes to our lifestyles, or smarter design of our mobility networks, have a disproportionately beneficial impact on wildlife?

What are the early results telling us?

The great human confinement brought clean air, cleaner water, reduced light and noise pollution for all. It allowed non-humans a renewed chance to move and breed more freely.

Importantly, though, it is not only a rosy picture of nature bounding back. Some species have developed an inordinate dependence on humans. Many animals subsist on food waste left lying around our streets and in gutters. Others depend on our sometimes unwise generosity in feeding them. The dramatic slowdown in normal human activity left unknown numbers of rodents, cats, squirrels, street dogs, monkeys, cows and others without sustenance.

In many places, the world’s poor, pushed back further into poverty, had to depend more on ecological resources—on subsistence hunting, logging, fishing from the wild. In India, researchers observed the near doubling of species “illegally” killed for food during the lockdown last year. Without human surveillance, protected areas have been more in danger of poaching too. And feral dog packs, the biggest threat to India’s sanctuaries, roamed unrestrained.

While citizens have reported much renewed love for returning natural beauty, some researchers have noted a simultaneous increase in the sentiment against nature and wildlife. Perhaps it is a fear reaction from knowing that this pandemic emerged from the animal world. Bats, especially, have become the target of increasing human wrath. This is unfortunate as bats are important pollinators in a worldwide decline of pollinators. Another danger is that children could absorb this fear from adults, reducing their potential to preserve their own future by conserving wildlife.

With this mixed bag of effects on the human-wildlife relationship, what can we learn? What should we do better?

If anything, this past year has taught us that small things matter. That we can personally create change that quickly and positively impacts others. Millions of people have been wearing masks to that end.

What the urban elite does matters more than ever. If even 200 million urbanites of India make some small changes in habits and lifestyle, it could have a cascading effect. It can even create a subtle system shift, leading to more positive feedback loops over time.

Here are some suggestions for citizens from environmentalists, researchers and urban designers whom I reached out to.

— We can easily contribute to reduced light and noise pollution, to allow birds and other species more freedom. If you can, shift any lights near trees where birds nest or roost. Work with your local municipality office to redesign street lighting for safety for pedestrians but privacy for birds and animals.

— Respect all life—learn what role the smallest creatures like moths and spiders play. In neighbourhood parks or private gardens, leave some spaces undisturbed and dark for birds and insects to forage and breed or rest.

— Participate more in waste management, at home and outside. Don’t throw your garbage where animals can get at it. Plastic and cows, for example, are a lethal combination.

— Rethink your mobility patterns post- pandemic. Virtual conferences have a lower ecological footprint. Avoid travelling for unnecessary meetings. Club outside activities when you can. Join the “No Honking” campaign. It is astonishing how many birds and animals benefitted from a quieter environment last year. The Year Earth Changed has particularly poignant scenes of birds singing again near desolate airports and cheetahs being able to safely call out to their cubs without the rumble of tourist jeeps in the savannah.

— Don’t stop going into the wild. Forest bathing can heal us. Many local economies depend on nature tourists. More watchful eyes on protected areas can also prevent poaching and fires. Wildlife tourism rupees support conservation and help compensate for human wildlife conflict. What we can change is HOW we go into the wild. Can we be more “in the wild”? Can we reduce our noise and light, simplify our food and other conveniences?

— Policy matters. Speak up more against the roll-back of environmental protection, in our neighbourhoods, but also for all the wild places we may never visit. Each voice resonates.

— Spread new ideas for people to chew on. Should safari parks, for example, be shut once in a while to let animals breed in peace? Should we stop vehicular traffic once a week?

— All traditional fishing communities around the world across recorded history have customary practices that stop them from fishing in breeding season. Maybe we can learn from that.

If enough of us shift our mental model to incorporate such suggestions, say the experts, people may enjoy the benefits of last year’s lockdown without its tremendous suffering.

Let’s listen to what researchers and citizen scientists are telling us from this year of observation. Maybe we can mitigate the next catastrophe, not with another great anthropause, but with a gentle withdrawal from our most harmful habits. Wishful thinking—maybe the next documentary could then be titled “The Year the Earth Changed—Forever.”

LiveMint
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A Quest to Balance State, Society, Market

In the memory of such social sector professionals and volunteers, we have to rededicate ourselves to the work of supporting and sustaining a resilient samaaj. What better time than this current moment?

On April 24, one more life came to a premature end. Civil society lost yet another leader. Prem Kumar Varma died in Delhi at the age of 65. He was the founder and secretary of Samta, a non-governmental organisation (NGO) in Bihar’s Khagaria district. Everyone knew him simply as Premji.

Premji could have had two more decades to thrive and work on his crusades against man-made flooding, and the injustices that continue towards the Musahar community. It was not to be.

Like many others, Premji began his civic engagement as a socialist student leader influenced by the teachings of Ram Manohar Lohia. Later, in the 1970s, he became a follower of the Gandhian socialist Jayaprakash Narayan, with others such as Bihar’s chief minister Nitish Kumar. Their goal was social transformation through “Sampoorna Kranti” or Total Revolution, but many landed in jail for their pains.

Those were difficult but heady days for India’s civil society, as the clouds of authoritarianism were gathering before the Emergency in 1975. Many groups were able to band together to defend democracy, constitutional rule and justice. It was hard and dangerous work. But it has served as the foundation for much of the expansion of civil society movements in the country, headed by a host of idealistic leaders with an inclusive vision and a mission of equity and justice.

During his illustrious career, Soli served as the Solicitor General for India and Attorney General for India.

Premji went on to establish Samta with the goal of a more egalitarian society. He focused on the most socially and economically marginalised Musahar community of Bihar, working on issues of human rights, flood relief and rehabilitation, safe drinking water, sanitation and livelihoods. Samta joined the water security collaborative, Megh Pyne Abhiyan, that my foundation, Arghyam, was privileged to support. For half-a-century, no matter the setbacks, he persevered in the mission for social change and justice.

On a memorable visit in 2007, when we travelled together in Bihar on a field visit, Premji explained to me his theory about why things were so lopsided in the world.

“Earlier”, he said, and I am paraphrasing here, “even when there were kings and emperors, people’s lives revolved around their communities – the samaaj. But ironically, post monarchy, the sarkaar began to get very powerful around the world and claimed a mandate for people’s welfare and began to act on behalf of the samaaj. And then later, the corporations of the bazaar began to go global and acquire even more power than the State.

So samaaj, which used to be the apex formation, was slowly replaced by the power of the State and then the power of the market. Now, samaaj is at the bottom and we are struggling to make the State and the market responsive to us as citizens.”

His words had a profound impact on me, and I began to chew on the idea and read more of history to develop the theory further. I became convinced that the work of this century is to restore the balance between samaaj, bazaar, and sarkaar. I dedicated my philanthropy to keep active citizens and society at the centre, so that markets and the State are more accountable to the larger public interest.

A heartfelt thank you, Premji, for starting me on this journey.

There are many Premjis in this country, who are totally immersed in the struggle to consolidate constitutional values in society. Sometimes, they risk life and limb in the pursuit of societal transformation.

The passing on of such leaders may not be understood for the social tragedy it is, for some time to come. As various factors, including the constrictive policies of the State, force many small organisations to fold up, samaaj will feel the impact over time.

Even the smallest NGOs go where the State and market often cannot or will not. They give voice to people. They shine a light on issues which can be tackled to prevent a future cascade. They make a good society more possible.

In the memory of such social sector professionals and volunteers, we have to rededicate ourselves to the work of supporting and sustaining a resilient samaaj. What better time than this current moment?

Hindustan Times
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कबीनी का काला पैंथर

यह तो होना ही था। जब दिल प्रफुल्लित होकर भर आता है, तो आंखे छलक ही जाती है। अंततः जब मैंने उस जीव को देखा, जिसका पीछा मैं पांच वर्षों से कर रही थी तो आंसू बिन बुलाये मेहमान की तरह चले आये। आख़िरकार, वह ब्लैकी या जैसा कि स्थानीय लोग उसे कहते हैं, करिया – कर्नाटक के कबीनी वन का विश्वप्रसिद्ध काला पैंथर है। वह हमारी जीप से करीब 15 मीटर दूर, एक पेड़ पर बेपरवाह, सुस्ता रहा था। बेंगलुरू लिटरेचर फेस्टिवल (बीएलएफ) में, ‘रोमांसिंग द ब्लैक पैंथर’ (bit.ly/karia) नामक एक व्याख्यान के साथ सार्वजनिक रूप से बयान देने के ठीक पांच दिन बाद, ब्लैकी ने अपनी उपस्थिति से मुझे अनुग्रहित किया।

क्या पल था वह! भगवान को धन्यवाद करते हुए, मैं स्तंभित होकर उसके चमकीले शरीर और लंबी पूँछ को टकटकी लगाए देखती रही। जब उसने हमारी ओर देखने के लिए अपना सिर घुमाया, तो उसकी पीली आँखें चमक उठीं; यही वह क्षण था जिसकी मुझे प्रतीक्षा थी। मेरा लक्ष्य हासिल हो चुका था। अंततः, इतने निष्फल प्रयासों के बाद, विशेषकर महामारी के वर्ष में, ब्लैकी मेरे सामने था।

यह इंतज़ार व्यर्थ नहीं था। न केवल इसलिए कि ब्लैकी बिलकुल वैसा था जैसी मुझे उम्मीद थी, बल्कि इसलिए भी, क्योंकि इस एक काली बिल्ली की तलाश के दौरान, मैंने बहुत कुछ पाया है।

अब तक की गयी अनगिनत सफारियों में, ब्लैकी अदृश्य, पर सदैव उपस्थित गुरु रहा है।

मैंने उससे कई सबक सीखे हैं। इस बिल्ली की एक छोटी सी झलक की उम्मीद में मैंने एक जगह पर घंटों इंतजार किया, जिससे मैं धैर्य और दृढ़ता में प्रशिक्षित हुई। यह भी सीखा कि कैसे भूत और भविष्य की सुध लिए बिना, वर्तमान में रहते हुए, सचेत रहा जाये। विनम्रतापूर्वक यह जाना कि जब काला पैंथर खोजने की बात आती हैं तब धन और विशेषाधिकार बहुत कम उपयोगी हैं। ख़ुशी भौतिक संपत्ति से परे, छोटी चीज़ों से मिलती है।

हालांकि, सब से बढ़कर ब्लैकी ने मेरी आँखों को जंगल, उसकी शांति और इसके बदलते मौसमों को उत्सुकतापूर्वक निरीक्षण करना सिखाया।

मैंने पेड़ों, झाड़ियों और जंगल के फर्श के लिए खतरा, तेजी से फैलने वाली खरपतवारों के बारे में सीखा। उसी जंगल में, जिसमे काली बिल्ली रहती है, बहुत से जानवरों को देखा, उनमे से कुछ शर्मीले, कुछ निर्भीक, कुछ जाने पहचाने तो कुछ नए थे। जैव विविधता के साथ वनस्पति, कीड़ो एवं जानवरो के परस्पर अंतर्संबद्धता के बारे में जानने के बाद मैंने अपने आपको बहुत मामूली पाया। मुझे जंगल को सरंक्षित और पुनर्जीवित करने के लिए किये गए वन विभाग के सफल प्रयासों पर गर्व हुआ। मैं जेनु कुरुबा जैसे आदिवासी लोगों के प्रति आभारी हुई, जो अभी भी अपनी बुद्धिमत्ता और ज्ञान से इन जंगली इलाकों और उनके आसपास गुजारा कर रहे हैं। मैं उन सारे पर्यटकों से खुश थी, जो सभी प्रकृति और जंगल से पुनः जुड़ने की कोशिश कर रहे थे।

और, सच कहा जाए तो, सभी ब्लैक पैंथर को खोजने की कोशिश कर रहे थे। यह जानवर 2015 में पहली बार देखा गया था और पर्यटकों की रूचि को जीवित रखने के लिए बीच-बीच में दिख जाया करता था, लेकिन इतनी बार भी नहीं कि यह कहा जा सके कि वह नियमित रूप से दिख जाता है। वह सबसे अलग था, वह सुन्दर था, वह नज़र नहीं आता था। लोग उसकी एक झलक देखना चाहते थे।

640 वर्ग कि.मी. जंगल के 60 वर्ग कि.मी. के पर्यटन क्षेत्र में इस एक काली बिल्ली को खोजने की कोशिश में, दुनिया भर से लोगों के समूह कबीनी आते रहे थे।

पर्यावरणविद् और वनअधिकारी इस सनक से हैरान हैं। वे समझ नहीं पा रहे हैं कि ये सारी हलचल किसलिए! वे कहते हैं, आखिरकार यह सिर्फ एक बिल्ली ही तो है!

यह सच है। ब्लैक पैंथर एक बड़ी जंगली बिल्ली ही है। बस एक और तेंदुआ, जिसकी गहरी रंजकता अवस्था, जो इसके धब्बों को तो बरकरार रखता है पर इसके ख़ाल के बाकी हिस्सों को काला कर देता है। ऐसा कोई कारण नहीं है कि हम उसे विशेष माने।

वास्तव में, कर्नाटक में कई काले तेंदुए हैं। तो फिर इसे ही क्यों विशेष रूप से इतना चाहा जा रहा है? शायद इसलिए कि यह एक ऐसा पैंथर है, जिसके क्षेत्र का नक्शा अच्छी तरह से बनाया गया है, और सौभाग्यवश वह पर्यटन क्षेत्र में भी आता है। और इसलिए भी कि वह अभी भी दुर्लभ है, और उसे ढूंढ पाना आसान नहीं है।

पीछा करने के रोमांच से लोग उत्साहित हैं। या, शायद, जैसा कि मेरे साथ हुआ है, ब्लैकी की तलाश उन्हें जंगल और प्रकृति से जुड़ने की उनकी अपनी गहरी चाह को समझने में मदद करता है। खासकर शहरी लोग, जो जंगल से खुद को बहुत दूर हुए महसूस करते हैं।

शायद किसी एक प्रजाति के जानवर को चाहने से हम यह समझ पाते है कि वह खाद्य श्रृंखला के ज़रिये अन्य प्रजातियों से और जिस पर्यावरण में वह रहता है, उस से कैसे जुड़ा हुआ है। और यह सब कैसे मानव-कल्याण से भी जुड़ता है। जंगल का अनुभव करने से होने वाले वास्तविक लाभों पर अभी हाल ही में बहुत शोध किया गया है। प्रकृति में समय बिताना शांतिदायक है।

अब जब ब्लैकी को देख लिया है, तो क्या यह पर्याप्त है? नहीं बिलकुल नहीं। जंगल मुझे बार-बार वापस बुलाता है, ब्लैकी अभी भी मुझ पर अपनी पकड़ बनाए हुए है। पिछली दो बार जब मैं कबीनी में गयी, तो कई बार ब्लैकी को देखने में विफल रही थी। तो क्या फिर से इतिहास खुद को दोहरा रहा है?

इससे कोई फर्क नहीं पड़ता। क्योंकि मैं ब्लैकी सहित पूरे जंगल से प्यार और सम्मान करने लगी हूँ। हमें बहुत सतर्क रहना होगा कि किसी एक जानवर के चका-चौंध में बह न जाएँ, चाहे वह कितना ही रोमांचकारी क्यों न हो, फिर चाहे वह बाघ हो या तेंदुआ । हम सभी को, विशेषकर पर्यटकों को, जंगल में सिर्फ कुछ लेने नहीं जाना चाहिए, बल्कि जंगल और उसके पारिस्थितिकी तंत्र के सरंक्षक के रूप में जिम्मेदारी स्वीकार करने के लिए भी प्रतिबद्ध होना चाहिए।

इस महामारी ने भी हमें बहुत कुछ सिखाया हैं। अब हम जानवरों से इंसानों में फैलने वाली पशुजन्य बीमारियों के खतरों को भलीभांति जानने लगे हैं। हम जानते हैं कि हमें जानवरों को उनका स्वयं का स्थल, स्वयं का क्षेत्र देना होगा। अब हम स्वीकार करते हैं कि ऐसा करके, हम न केवल उनकी, बल्कि भूमि, जंगल और इंसानों की भी रक्षा करते हैं। हम विनयशील हो गए हैं, और अब, हम भविष्य में बेहतर संतुलन को बहाल करने का अवसर देखते हैं।

हमारी जैव-विविधता इस ग्रह को सभी के लिए रहने लायक बनाती है, इसमें आप, मैं और ब्लैकी भी शामिल हैं। हमारी जिम्मेदारी है, एक साथ मिलकर, हमारे गहन आपसी संबद्धों को फिर नए सिरे से शुरु करने की, बेहतर करने की और उसका आनंद लेने की भी।

लेखिका का परिचय
रोहिणी निलेकणी एक लेखिका और समाजसेवी हैं। वे अर्घ्यम् नामक संस्था की अध्यक्षा हैं जो जल संरक्षण व स्वच्छता पर काम करती है। साथ ही वे शिक्षा से जुड़ी एकस्टेप की सह संस्थापक और पर्यावरण संस्था एट्री की प्रबन्ध समिति की सदस्या भी हैं।

हिन्दी अनुवाद: प्रवर मौर्य
यह लेख ‘नेचर कन्ज़र्वेशन फाउंडेशन (NCF)’ द्वारा चालित ‘नेचर कम्युनिकेशन्स’ कार्यक्रम की एक पहल है। इस का उद्देश्य भारतीय भाषाओं में प्रकृति से सम्बंधित लेखन को प्रोत्साहित करना है। यदि आप प्रकृति या पक्षियों के बारे में लिखने में रुचि रखते हैं तो ncf-india से संपर्क करें।

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Curiosity Over Certainty: A Learning Approach to Grantmaking

In this piece, Natasha Joshi, Associate Director at Rohini Nilekani Philanthropies, writes about a learning approach to grantmaking emerging from our work with Young Men & Boys

In the work of creating a gender-equitable society, men play an essential role – this is labour that women should not and cannot shoulder alone. But in virtually every society, the traditional framing of empowerment expects women to be the main participants and asks them to take on the unequal systems alone.

How do you fund change like this?

We decided to try with a learning approach.

Some years ago, Rohini Nilekani Philanthropies started a portfolio focussed on working with Young Men and Boys (YMBs).

While there are several non-profits and donors that are passionate about including men in their work for gender equality, such an approach can be quite difficult. Men may not prioritise these engagements, as they don’t immediately see how it can benefit them. Boys and men are harder to recruit into programmes or to retain. And mixed gender environments can become challenging when the gender and sexual dynamics of the outside world seep into programme-centric gatherings and events.

Against this backdrop, Rohini Nilekani Philanthropies became interested in how boys and men can be engaged, in a sustainable manner, and our going-in approach was to first understand the lives of boys and men.

Learning Grants and Research

To engage with Young Men and Boys better, we initiated multiple ‘learning grants’ – smaller grants made to first time grantees with the aim of giving us some exposure to the space. Given the space was new to us, we had no evidence or experience upon which to mount a YMB portfolio strategy. So, we decided to partner with a researcher who would go on the journey with us, and work with our grantees to continuously make visible the dynamic results of their programmes. Moreover, the opportunity to work with a researcher to refine programmatic theories and impact, was positioned as an option rather than a must-do. Partners were given the opportunity to opt out not only at the start of the project, but also once the research design had been completed and before implementation. And partners were also assured that if they were to opt out, this would have no bearing on our funding decisions.

We hoped to learn from the research as co-travellers. The distinction between research and evaluation was made to emphasise that it was not being conducted to enforce partner accountability to us.

Srinivasan, the researcher we worked with, writes: ‘The distinction that was being drawn could also be described as that between evaluations for accountability and evaluations for learning. The two paradigms of evaluations for accountability and evaluations for learning differ in both the retrospective and prospective questions that they ask.

…in virtually every society, the traditional framing of empowerment expects women to be the main participants and asks them to take on the unequal systems alone. How do you fund change like this?

‘At their core, the retrospective question that evaluations for accountability ask are, “Did the programme deliver the results that it promised to?” Following from this, the prospective question that evaluations for accountability ask is, “If we renew funding, will the programme continue to deliver on these results?” In contrast, evaluations for learning ask retrospectively, “What did we learn from this programme?” Prospectively, evaluations for learning ask, “If we renew funding, what more can we learn and how can we improve upon the programme?”’

The research process involved an examination of a partner’s theory of change, but in a way that made manifest the unconscious assumptions built into programmatic approaches. For example, a programme that focussed on making boys more aware of menstrual hygiene assumed that empathy would follow awareness. The approach did not account for the fact that that very information could be weaponised instead – through teasing of girls, something which happened in the experience of one of our partners. After that, the partner revised their approach and left us with a better understanding of how awareness-building programmes need to account for unintended consequences.

In another instance, one of our partners implementing a Personal Safety Education programme for middle school and high school students discovered that some of the same concepts, when introduced to middle school students, had a negative impact versus high school students, who did fine with the content. The insight from this work was that, even within teenagers, early teens differ from late teens in meaningful ways.

One of the more complex unintended consequences of gender-focussed programs is the backlash participants face from their families and communities. In the case of boys and men, partners sometimes report pushback from communities in the form or resistance, i.e. not allowing boys and men to interfere with established social norms, or ridicule, i.e. teasing or taunts from friends, including the women in their lives. Learning these ground-truths is helpful as they reveal the layers that programs need to work through in order to create sustainable change.

Implications Beyond Work with YMB

The research for our YMB portfolio is ongoing, but we also see value in taking this evaluation approach for our other portfolios. We don’t believe that we can ever know how to design or run a programme in a more relevant and responsive manner than the organisations we partner with. So, we allow ourselves to be led by curiosity and trust.

We revised our report template and instead of asking about the programmes, we asked how our partners were doing and what they had learned.

As we round off the first quarter of the new year, life is yet to return to ‘normal’. Many field-based organisations continue to face operational challenges – their programmatic fates linked to the rise and fall of epidemiological curves – and the full extent of the loss suffered by individuals and communities is yet to be known. When the pandemic arrived in full force, it paralysed many systems and institutions we took for granted. At that time, it was civil society organisations and non-profits that proved to be incredibly agile – serving both as emergency responders as well as channels for feedback for us.

Staying with a trust-based philanthropic approach, we restructured grants to allow partners to show up for the communities they serve. We also revised our report template and instead of asking about the programmes, we decided to ask founders and CEOs how they were doing, and what they had learned. What came back, was pages of reflections from 32 portfolio organisations: honest, insightful accounts of the trials and triumphs these individuals had experienced in what was undoubtedly one of the most challenging years many of us had lived through. We read each report – it took a while! – and pushed ourselves to do portfolio level syntheses so that we could do justice to all that was being shared with us. In many cases, we responded to our partners highlighting what really stood out for us, to visualise their role in helping us see the space better.

The past year has reinforced our faith in staying curious, but through research methodologies like evaluations for learning or changing up reporting formats, we are finding ways to take this intent into our operations

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Encounters with Kabini’s Black Panther

For those waiting and watching, it was another good moment. For me, it was an unforgettable one.

For years, I had been on a pilgrimage to find one elusive, unique animal in the Kabini forest of Karnataka—the world’s most famous black panther, known locally as Karia or Blackie. During this past pandemic year, I was fortunate to spend weeks in the jungle. But I found neither hair nor hide of my quarry.

On 13 December, I went public about my joyful obsession with a talk titled Romancing The Black Panther, at the Bangalore Literature Festival. And suddenly, the jinx was broken. Exactly five years after I began my search, and exactly five days after my talk, I got a darshan of Karia.

There he was, simply draped on a tree, 30ft from our jeep, 30ft above the ground, a little too far for my human eyes, but just right for the powerful camera lenses pointed at him.

Several people have asked me about what that moment was like. It is hard to explain it without being self-conscious. As I peered through my binoculars at the black silhouette, the lenses were clouded with my tears.

Then I realised that everyone around was watching me watch Blackie. My face split into the broadest grin, I joined my hands in a namaskar and put both my thumbs up. Thank you, I whispered to the sky. Thank you, I said to wildlife filmmaker Sandesh Kadur and other well-wishers who had brought me to this point. Thank you, I said to my favourite forest. Dhanyavaad, I said to the black cat, who by now had turned his head to gaze down imperiously at us.

What a moment! To me, it felt, simply, like the essence of happiness.

My quest has taught me personal lessons of patience and humility. It has also deepened my understanding of the complex connectedness of the forests and our future. I have renewed my resolve to work towards the regeneration of India’s amazing biodiversity, and our culture of conservation.

I am grateful that I just got to sit with this black leopard for a while that day. I kept returning to Kabini, and Karia kept turning up in tandem.

Then, on 6 March, we witnessed an epic encounter between him and his long-time adversary, a leopard that wildlife filmmaker Shaaz Jung calls Scarface. Karia decided to challenge him in the open, high on a teak tree that had shed its leaves in Kabini’s dry season, giving tourists in a dozen jeeps the sighting of a lifetime. Both cats were fighting for the affections of Mist, a small blue-green-eyed female leopard, who was nearby, but grieving for a lost cub.

This saga has just begun. As the female comes into oestrus again, no doubt there will be many leopards sniffing around Karia’s territory, forcing him to defend it. He may only add to his many battle scars, and Karia groupies will be watching anxiously that he returns triumphant and healthy again.

Karia’s frequent sightings in the past few weeks have sent a buzz through the world of wildlife photographers and tourists. More enthusiasts from around the globe are planning a getaway to Kabini, hoping to catch a glimpse of its beloved Karia. He is the only black panther in the world whose territory overlaps a tourist zone. He appears just enough to keep appetites whetted. But Karia is about nine years old, and leopards have an average life span of 12 years. No wonder so many of us keep returning, almost greedily, to catch him while we can.

But Kabini has so much more to offer. As is usual at this time of the year, when there is little water, and the deciduous forest is bare, it is easier to sight animals, especially the big cats.

There are many who prefer the majestic tigers to the leopards. This season, they could have a treat like none other. There is a tigress in Kabini whose family is becoming the focus of researchers and photographers. This backwater female has had two litters of three cubs each in the past three years. One or the other of her cubs from the previous litter is often seen with the three little ones and the mother. It is quite The Baby-Sitters Club. While tigers do have litters of four or more cubs, it is rare for the entire litter to survive. At Kabini, if you are really lucky, you can see five tigers together—the magnificent mother, her three one-year-old cubs, and one babysitter.

It is most unusual for tigers from a previous litter to bond in this way with younger siblings, or stay so peacefully with their mother. To watch these tigers of Kabini cohabit and cooperate is truly extraordinary.

No doubt Kabini will have a sizzling summer. People will flock to this and other forests to find what the poet Wendell Berry calls The Peace Of Wild Things. The forest allows us to practise mindfulness, to remain in the moment, to heighten our sensory perception. Much research has emerged that correlates human well-being with time spent in nature.

Conservationists caution us not to get carried away by our natural attraction to the charismatic species. They would not survive without the role played by the smallest of creatures in the food chain, many of whom are spectacular in their own right. Maybe this summer, having internalised the critical importance of a tiny virus, we can let our eyes stray past the big animals to sweep across the entire ecoscape.

It is easy in Kabini. Unlike other parks, sightseeing in Kabini is managed through the state government’s Jungle Lodges and Resorts. The carrying capacity of the forest is calculated conservatively, and there is no mad rush of jeeps. Tourist behaviour is largely restrained, and the sanctuary is kept free of trash through the strenuous efforts of the forest department and many volunteer groups.

Kabini is more than just a magical forest bringing renewed wonders to visitors at each turn—it is home to much biodiversity, a forest part man-made and part natural, teeming with wildlife beside the gleaming backwaters of the Kabini reservoir. This paradise calls for eternal vigilance. Tourists need to become trustees, not mere consumers of the safari sightings. Can we go into the forest with curiosity and humility, and can we emerge embracing its grace? We are on the road to recovery from a pandemic that has taught us just how interconnected we are to the wild world. What better time for us to reflect on how—and how quickly—we can renew our broken relationship with the natural world?

As for me, I continue to aspire to such trusteeship. People ask me if I would be quite such a regular now that I have sighted Karia. If anything, he beckons more, urging me to look beyond him into the heart of the forest where, surely, our human heart may be discovered.

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