Withering heights

HINDU PHOTO LIBRARY

Plant diseases, warm winters, glacial floods and dry streams the impact of global warming is evident in Sikkim.

IN Sikkim, wherever there is an alder tree, there is bound to be a cardamom plantation. The forests of these rugged mountains offer shade to cardamom plants, the staple cash crop of Sikkim. But now, the shade of the trees is not enough to protect this precious spice. The States cardamom crop has been all but wiped out by an epidemic of blight, caused by a fungus.

A decade ago, Sikkim was the worlds biggest producer of large cardamom, growing 75 per cent of the worlds cardamom crop. Now, it produces only 30-40 per cent. Sanchabir Subba from Khamtang village, close to Yuksam in West Sikkim, has eight acres (one acre is 0.4 hectares) of land but is deep in debt. Last year, the blight epidemic destroyed his cardamom crop. He has planted his farm slopes again, but it will take three years for it to yield a crop.

The diseases are coming higher and higher up the slopes from the plains. The cardamom leaf is drying up and dying. Earlier, our crop was abundant, now we cant get even a small fraction of it, says Sanchabir Subba. Its difficult even to buy rice. I have to take loans to pay for labour to harvest the maize crop. In the past five years, Ive had to borrow. I didnt have to earlier.

The blight epidemic has reduced self-sufficient farmers to daily-wage workers. We could harvest 320 kg an acre. Now, you get only 10 kg. We used to earn well from the elaichi [cardamom] crop. But now, we cant survive solely from farming. I have to go out searching for casual jobs. If we dont work for even one day, there wont be food on the table, says Pinchu Lepcha, who has five acres in Ramgethang village, also close to Yuksam, once the capital of Sikkim. The youth are moving away from farming to work on construction sites or as coolies for trekkers.

As the impact of global warming becomes more and more apparent, Sikkim, Indias smallest State, is perhaps the quickest to show signs of change. Sandwiched between Nepal in the west and Bhutan in the east and the Tibetan plateau in the north, Sikkim stretches from low tropical forests to rugged mountains. It has the Kanchenjunga, the third highest peak in the world, and is known as the land of orchids, with around 450 varieties.

Within a distance of 114 km, you can travel through five climatic zones from tropical to alpine forests to glaciers and cold deserts. Sikkim has 26 per cent of Indias flora and fauna, although it occupies only 0.5 per cent of the countrys land area. Sikkims people, particularly the Buddhist minority, worship nature and are intimately linked to the land. They offer revealing insights on how global warming is affecting them.

It has become hotter, so our vegetables dont grow well. The leaves dry up. In the past two or three years, my yield has fallen by half, says Dawa Bhutia, also from Khamtang village. Khamtang is on the fringes of the Kanchenjunga National Park, a mine of biodiversity. It is from here that treks to the Kanchenjunga begin. And just a few kilometres away is the Dubdi monastery, the oldest in Sikkim.

Earlier, the summer temperature in Gangtok [the State capital] would be 15C. Now, in spring, its already 18C, says Dipankar Ghose of the Sikkim programme office of the World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF)-India.

India Meteorological Department (IMD) records reveal that between 1958 and 2005, there were slight changes in the climate of Gangtok. The maximum temperature has been falling by 0.3C a decade, and the minimum temperature has been rising by 0.2C a decade. The annual rainfall has been increasing by 49.6 mm a decade, says K. Seetharam, Director of the meteorological centre in Gangtok.

There is no research linking the blight epidemic to rising temperatures. But it fits in with the findings of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), which states, Disturbances from pest, diseases and fire are projected to have increasing impacts on forests.

The blight outbreak was reported after 2002. There was a dry period from 2000 to 2002, which could have made the plants weak and resulted in the spread of the disease, says M.R. Sudarshan, Deputy Director, Spices Board of India. The spores of the fungus are carried by wet wind. The epidemic has become unmanageable in some places. The yield has fallen by 30 to 50 per cent.

Scientists at the Spices Board are still studying the reasons for the outbreak. It could be partly because of climate change. But we dont have reliable data in all the cardamom-growing areas from low to high altitudes to make the connection, says Sudarshan.

The heat is affecting ecosystems right from glaciers to farms. Around 20 years ago, we used to get at least one foot of snow. But for the past three years, there has been no snow. You can only see it in the higher slopes. Snow acts as manure for the soil. It melts slowly in the soil and makes it fertile. Now, we get more wind and heavy rain, which erodes the soil, says Sanchabir Subba.

The seasons have become topsy-turvy, says Pinchu Lepcha. Earlier, the rain was gentle. Now it is very heavy, like buckets being emptied from the skies. And the heat is very strong. Both destroy the crops.

Sowing seasons are changing. Earlier, we used to sow maize in February. But now we sow in January. Normally, it would snow in February, but not anymore, says Tempa Lepcha from Ramgethang village.

Higher temperatures have brought new crops to the mountains. Since it has become hotter now, oranges and bananas are growing here (at 1,800 metres). They were unheard of earlier, says Pemchong Lama from Chojo village in West Sikkim. When I was a child, we had plenty of food from the farms. We had rice fields, but we made them cardamom plantations. Now, theres no food. We have to depend on supplies that are sold in the market. When there is no crop to sell, how can we buy?

Springs, ponds and streams in the villages are drying up. There used to be a big stream right next to our house. Now its dry. We are drinking water from another stream, says Pinchu Lepcha. It may be related to the receding snow line, says Chewang Bhutia from the Kanchenjunga Conservation Committee. When I was a child, we would get snow here [1,700 m] every year. Now, theres snow only on the ridge at 2,000 m.

High up in the Lachung valley (2,640 m to 2,700 m) of north Sikkim, which borders Tibet, warming is affecting the living patterns of the Lachen and Lachung communities. Twenty years ago, we couldnt grow anything in winter. So we used to store vegetables in a pit underground for the long, chill winter. Now, you dont need to store anything. In peak winter, raddish and saag [spinach] grow in the fields. We have never seen this before. It shows that the amount of snowfall is much less, says Chezung Lachungpa, Conservator of Forest, Land Use & Environment, who grew up in the Lachung valley.

Earlier, people used to migrate downslope from the high-altitude areas in winter. Now that its warmer, they dont have to migrate, says Chezung Lachungpa. Warming is also changing our culture. We used to weave thick, netted woollen shawls called Purup, which were water- and wind-resistant. People dont make them in the villages anymore.

Vegetation is also moving up the mountains. In Lachung, the staple crop, maize, was normally sown only up to 2,400 m. But now it grows at 2,700 m. The utis [Indian alder] tree would not grow beyond 2,250 m. Now, you can find it above 2,700 m. This is a clear indicator of climate change, explains Chezung.

The distribution of snow used to be uniform over six months. Now, we get two or three months of snowfall. We have late-winter snowfall, which is not good for vegetation and water sources, adds Chezung Lachungpa. At that time, the ground is warm, so snow melts faster and moisture is not retained in the soil for long. Trees and vegetation dont grow in time and so the entire mountain landscape is affected.

Sikkim has 84 glaciers, and some have been melting rapidly. I have witnessed how much the Zemu glacier [the largest in Sikkim and the source of the river Teesta] has receded, says Chezung Lachungpa. In the mid-1990s, we had a huge flash flood in December. The entire valley was washed away. There was a lot of destruction. It was because of glacial melting that a huge block of ice fell into the glacier-fed Tambao lake, which overflowed, causing the flood. Such calamities, called Glacial Lake Outburst Floods (GLOFs), are likely to become more frequent in the Himalayas as the glaciers melt.

The International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD) has been researching on the likely threats to the Himalayan region due to GLOFs. It found that of the 266 glacial lakes in Sikkim, 14 are potentially dangerous. And, of these 14, three lakes seem to have had past events of GLOFs.

Realising the vulnerable situation, the Sikkim government has set up a Glacier and Climate Change Commission. It is the first State government to do so. Sikkim is a mini theatre, which in a way displays how climate change triggered by non-natural forces at the global level could bring disastrous natural calamities, said Chief Minister Pawan Kumar Chamling while inaugurating the commissions first meeting in January. We are worried in Sikkim as we have seen warm winters, increased flooding, landslides and rock avalanches from destabilised slopes. Landslides due to torrential rains and an unusually prolonged monsoon in 2007 caused extensive damage. This was definitely not the case when I was young, he said.

However, the State seems to be schizophrenic when it comes to environmental protection. Although, it is alert to the impact of global warming, it has planned around 26 dams, not considering how they will destroy the fragile ecology or how glacial melting will impact the dams. Perhaps, it is the allure of greenbacks that distracts them from the signs of change.

Even the flowers in Sikkim are revealing strange signs. The flowering time for the rhododendron has changed. It used to be March to May. Now it is erratic. Some species are flowering earlier, and others later, even though they used to bloom at the same time some years back, says Dipankar Ghose from the WWF.

The birds, too, are probably adapting to a changing climate. The ibisbill used to spend the summer in the high-altitude lakes of north Sikkim (2,400 m to 2,700 m high) and migrate down to 900 m to 1,200 m in winter. Now, it doesnt migrate. It seldom comes down to 1,800 m. Common mynahs would not go beyond 2,500 m, but they are now seen at 2,100 m, explains Ghose. House crows, which were rare beyond 1,500 m, are now common at 3,000 m.

To reach Sikkim, you have to pass through Siliguri in West Bengal. Situated at the base of the Himalayas, Siliguri is the gateway to north-eastern India. After passing through the sweltering heat and choking traffic of this commercial city, it is a relief to get out and drive up the mountains and breathe the cool mountain air. But slowly, the heat of Siliguri is moving up the mountains, and accompanying the heat are swarms of pesky mosquitoes.

Ten to 15 years ago, we used to tell people going to Siliguri to beware of being bitten by the mosquitoes there. Now we have mosquitoes in Sikkim. You dont have to go Siliguri to be bitten, jokes Nima Tashi, from The Mountain Institute in Gangtok. You can imagine how much the climate has changed.

After leaving Sikkim, I realised its changing climate had made a mark on me too the huge red mosquito bites all over my feet.