The fire came quietly. No warning. No announcement. Just flames climbing through young trees that had taken years to grow.
On December 29, parts of Molai Kathoni 2.0, a newer extension of the forest created by Jadav Payeng, widely known as the Forest Man of India, were set ablaze by unidentified persons. Reports suggest that thousands of saplings were damaged. Insects and small animals were lost. There were no human casualties. The state has ordered an investigation.
These are the confirmed facts. And they are disturbing enough.
Molai Kathoni is not an ordinary forest. It is the result of decades of solitary, patient work on a shifting sandbar of the Brahmaputra near the Majuli–Kokilamukh region of Assam. What began as bare land slowly turned into dense green cover. Deer returned. Birds nested. The soil held. A landscape that erosion had written off was quietly reclaimed.
The forest became a symbol. Of restoration. Of individual action. Of what persistence can achieve when systems fail.
That is why the fire matters.
Because when a forest like these burns, the loss is not only ecological. It is moral. It forces a harder look at how fragile conservation remains in India, especially when it is driven by citizens rather than institutions.
According to news reports, the fire broke out in the evening. Payeng and his family were among the first to respond, attempting to contain the flames before they spread further. Officials later confirmed that an inquiry would be conducted and that the culprits were yet to be identified.
Soon after, the familiar cycle set in. Anger spilled out in public. Political reactions followed. Social media filled the gaps left by official silence. Some spoke of vested interests. Others pointed to sand mining in nearby char areas. Questions were raised about permissions, warnings, and who knew what, and when.
At this point, it is important to pause.
There is, so far, no publicly available evidence that explains why the fire was set. No document has surfaced to suggest official sanction. No investigation has named a person, a group, or an institution. Much of what is circulating remains conjecture. Assertions, not conclusions.
At the same time, it would be naïve to treat the incident as an isolated act with no context.
Char lands are fragile ecosystems, but they are also contested spaces. Sand is valuable. It feeds the construction economy. Across the country, disputes around sand extraction are routine, and often murky. They sit at the intersection of ecology, money, and power. Assam, shaped and reshaped by the Brahmaputra, knows this reality well.
The river brings silt and sand. It also brings competing claims.
This background does not prove intent. But it does explain why the incident cannot be dismissed as meaningless.
Molai Kathoni is not just a forest. It occupies space in a shifting river landscape. It stabilises land. It restricts certain kinds of access. A dense green patch in a fluid terrain changes what can and cannot be done there. In that sense, it is also a line between ecological, physical, and economic.
Which is why the fire raises questions beyond environmental loss.
It tests governance.
If a forest recognised across the world, built through decades of labour, can be damaged so easily, what does that say about protection on the ground? If safeguarding depends largely on one man’s presence, is that protection, or is it luck?
India is not short on environmental laws. There are acts, rules, and guidelines in abundance. But laws need watching. They need enforcement. They need visible deterrence. Without that, even the most celebrated conservation efforts remain exposed.
One aspect of this episode deserves closer attention: the response.
There was no visible security cover around the forest, despite its ecological and symbolic value. Initial firefighting relied on local effort. The inquiry was announced, but as of now, no findings have been placed in the public domain.
This is not a charge. It is simply a description of what unfolded.
Governance is not tested after damage is done. It is tested by what prevents damage from happening at all.
Payeng’s work has often been narrated as an exception. A miracle, a one-man achievement. That praise is earned. But it also masks an uncomfortable reality. We elevate individuals because institutions are missing. We tell extraordinary stories because ordinary protection does not exist.
Molai Kathoni should never have needed fame to survive. It should never have been this vulnerable.
Which brings us to the deeper concern.
The central question is not yet who lit the fire. That determination must rest on evidence, not speculation.
The more unsettling question is about interest.
- Who stands to gain if this land is weakened or cleared?
- Who benefits when a protected green patch becomes uncertain territory?
- What does it mean when ecological stewardship becomes inconvenient?
These are fair questions. Asking them is not the same as making accusations. It is how accountability begins.
If the investigation concludes that this was random mischief, the state must say so clearly and back it with facts. If it points to organised intent, the response must be firm, transparent, and public. Either way, silence only deepens mistrust.
There are also clear steps that can follow.
Land-use status and extraction permissions in surrounding areas should be made public. Environmental buffers around Molai Kathoni must be formally marked and enforced. Rapid-response systems for ecological damage need strengthening. And landscapes restored by communities or individuals should receive permanent legal protection and not just applause.
Because Molai Kathoni is not only about trees.
It is about whether conservation in India is upheld by systems or left to individual courage. About whether environmental work is protected only when it aligns with easy profit. And about whether the state stands visibly with those who repair damaged land.
The fire has already spoken.
What remains is the response.
One grounded in facts.
One that offers clarity.
And one that ensures forests built over decades are not reduced to ash overnight…..without consequence.
Clear Cut Climate Desk
New Delhi, UPDATED: Dec 30, 2025 05:42 IST
Written By: Paresh Kumar
