Shyam Sunder Paliwal tore open the pod and the blood-red seeds dripped out. He held it in the palm of his hand and offered the fruits of the Sindoor bush for inspection.

50 reasons to love the world – 2021

Why do you love the world

“Because the more we protect the environment [around Piplantri, India]the more it moves back and forth. Those who work with nature don’t worry too much. Nature gives me strength; Our daughters and this work give us strength. “- Shyam Sunder Paliwal, eco-feminist

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The plant that produces the vermilion powder that Indians often put on their foreheads for cosmetic and religious purposes does not usually grow in this region. But it is one of many species of trees that now grow in Piplantri, a collection of six interconnected hamlets in Rajasthan in northwestern India.

In 2005, when Paliwal became sarpanch, or village chief, the marble quarrying had exposed the mounds. The surrounding land had dried up and the foliage had degraded. And, as in most parts of India, daughters here were seen as a financial burden and devalued compared to sons, who usually help support their parents economically.

In 2007, Paliwal’s 17-year-old daughter, Kiran, died after a bout of dehydration. Heartbroken but eager to honor their memory, his family planted a tree on their behalf near the entrance to the village. As the leader of Piplantri, Paliwal thought, why not turn this one-off event into a more comprehensive program? Soon other villagers began to follow his example.

Every time a girl is born in Piplantri, the villagers plant 111 trees – a favorable number for local Hindus – to honor them and regenerate the environment.

“If we can do it in the name of a girl, why not in the name of every girl?” said Paliwal. The region now has more than 350,000 trees, from mango and gooseberry to sandalwood, neem, peepal, and bamboo that grow over the once barren land and cover an estimated 1,000 acres.

In recent years, Paliwal’s simple idea has grown into a broader eco-feminist movement. In addition to planting trees, new parents of daughters also sign an affidavit that they will not marry her until they turn 18 and let her finish school. The villagers also open a fixed deposit account for each girl with Rs 31,000 (£ 305) that she can access from the age of 18, either for her education or to help pay for her wedding. In addition, the growing forest of Piplantri is now an example of how Indian villages can literally go green while improving their water management.

Paliwal’s simple idea has expanded into a broader eco-feminist movement

Paliwal led me, under green cover and warning to watch out for snakes and scorpions, to a small clearing with a single, slender burflower tree near the entrance to the village. It was the first tree he had planted, now surrounded by dozens of others.

Although the villagers plant the 111 trees for every girl born year-round, a special tree-planting ceremony is held every August during the monsoons for all girls born in the past 12 months. Paliwal estimates that around 60 girls are born each year in this village of 5,500 people. Adult girls, whose names were planted with trees, now come to tie rakhi bracelets around seedlings and consider them siblings to be worshiped during the festival of Raksha Bandhan. In one part of the village, sarpanches and other visiting officials are asked to take an oath next to a banyan tree promising to work responsibly and to protect the environment.

“Historically, people from this region of [Rajasthan] are warriors who have never accepted defeat. And neither will we, “Paliwal said before reciting the names of the legendary kings the region produced.” In previous centuries they repelled attacks, now we are fighting disease and pollution. “

As the trees of Piplantri have grown, the water table has increased and significant cultural change has improved the status of women. Nikita Paliwal (no relationship with Shyam Sunder), now 14, was one of the first girls to have trees planted in her name. Now she hopes to become a doctor and work for the poor. “We should also stand on our own two feet,” she said.

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“If you keep working, the results will show,” said Shyam Sunder. “And people will join you.”

Of course you need a village. That morning, groups of women were working to prepare the land for planting. Although the ceremonial planting takes place only once a year, the work takes place all year round.

Nanubhai Paliwal, Nikita’s aunt, wore a bright red sari and a big smile, and said she had two sons, but when Piplantri started honoring his girls, she wanted granddaughters. Now she has two and trees were planted when they were born.

“They used to be considered a burden. Now we don’t think that way anymore,” she said. “We have no special wish for sons.” Then she looked around and pointed to all the trees. “It was a small village. We worked hard, we made it special. And that’s how we get work and income.”

It was a small village. We worked hard, we made it special

This is an essential part of the village-wide strategy: not only to honor girls or to regenerate the environment, but to use reforestation to generate income for local residents. “How can everyone get employed in the industry?” Shyam Sunder asked. “Our approach is to create jobs through natural resources.”

The village has established women’s cooperatives that make products from aloe vera such as juices, groceries and gels to sell in the village. In the coming year they are planning to expand to products made from gooseberries, bamboo and honey, all of which were planted or grown as part of the village’s greening efforts.

“You have to tie everything together,” said Paliwal. “When you plant trees, you need water and soil. Then you attract birds, and more greenery brings more rain.” The villagers also plant 11 trees when someone dies. All planting takes place on communal land, which is distributed over the previously illegally developed village. Shyam Sunder pointed to the mountains in the distance, carved and broken down, but showing emerging vegetation.

“Where there is mining, there is degradation,” he said. “We worked to make up for this.” On a stone-filled hill, green shoots of sugarcane plants burst out of nowhere.

Piplantri’s water use plan provided for catching the runoff and raising the water table through the construction of ditches, bunds and dams. All over the village, large posters with before and after pictures bear witness to Piplantri’s transformation: from dry and brown to green and green. Clear ponds now shone in the distance. Geese drank drinking water around a statue erected in honor of Kiran. As rabbits frolicked in a pen, a peacock crossed the street near a building topped with a solar panel.

“I see a big difference between 2007-08 and now, and it shows you how one person can make change,” said Nimisha Gupta, executive director of the district’s local governing bodies. “Government programs, if properly implemented, can work wonders. But not all villages use budgets well.”

In 2018 the state government set up a training center here to educate people about the “Piplantri model”. The building houses engineers, officials and residents from other districts who hope to recreate Piplantri’s model of water extraction and tree planting elsewhere in Rajasthan and across the country. Some days, as many as 50 to 60 visitors come to Piplantri – most of them attend workshops at the training center – and the village even has a number of cottages to accommodate them.

According to Gupta, part of Piplantri’s environmental success comes from viscerally connecting the environment with people. “When you plug it into tradition and make trees like family members, it makes emotional sense,” she said.

The connection between the village and nature is palpable. That afternoon, local resident Prem Shankar Salvi appeared with his wife and one-year-old daughter Ruchika with a cake in the center of the village. Salvi had wanted to celebrate his birthday in the country.

“It’s special to do it that way,” he said. “We thought, why not do something else?”

Things have changed

When Ruchika was born, Salvi and his wife planted trees, signed the affidavit and opened a fixed-term deposit account for them.

“Let her do what she wants when she grows up,” said Salvi. “When she was born, it was as if the goddess Lakshmi had come to our home.”

Salvi will enroll his daughter in school, which is free in elementary school. In fact, in one of the nine government-run village schools here, girls to boys enrollment is 33:19. “Nobody got out, regardless of their caste or origin,” said Giridharilal Jatia, a local school principal. “We have seen that in the last 10 years. There used to be fewer girls around.”

Yana Paliwal (no relationship with Nikita or Shyam Sunder), who is only two years old, does not yet understand that trees have been planted in her name or that her parents have high hopes for her. Her mother, Sangeeta Paliwal, who moved to Piplantri after her marriage 12 years ago, had little access to education as a girl, but is determined that her daughter should study first and later consider marriage. Sangeeta used to cover her face out of modesty, following the conservative practice of the Ghunghat in her own village but not in Piplantri. Here she got her college degree through distance learning, she drives and she started working.

“Things have changed,” she said.

BBC Travel celebrates 50 reasons to love the world in 2021 by inspiring popular voices as well as unsung heroes in local communities around the world.

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