Kamal Ghorui
A warning from Western Ghats. But who’s listening?
In India’s monsoon folklore, dragonflies arrive like whispered promises – tiny aviators that signal rain, renewal, and a farmer’s cautious hope. Their flicker over fields has long been read as a good omen, a living forecast stitched into the sky. But all of that is in danger. A recent two-year survey, across Western Ghats, reveals an unsettling shift: a 35% decline in dragonfly and damselfly species. Researchers documented just 143 species across five states, a stark fall from the 222 once recorded.
Reasons are neither mysterious nor new. Freshwater systems are under siege from pollution, reckless infrastructure expansion, mining, and quarrying. Dragonflies double up as ecological sentinels. When they vanish, they take with them a verdict on water and air quality. Their decline is less a statistic and more a warning flare over one of the world’s richest biodiversity hotspots.
This trajectory was foreseen. In 2011, the Madhav Gadgil committee outlined a roadmap to protect Western Ghats, urging strict limits on extractive and large-scale construction activities in fragile zones. The plan was shelved, deemed inconvenient for growth. Globally, the crisis hums along – 16% of these species face extinction risks. Yet in India, the stakes feel more entwined. Dragonflies, monsoons, agriculture, and livelihoods form a single, intricate braid. Tug at one, and the whole system tightens. Ignore them, and the silence they leave behind may speak louder than any data.
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