“The tinderbox stands primed—one spark could trigger disaster.”
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| Firefighters pressed into service |
Wildfire in Mount Abu Forest on the way to Abu Road
Fire on the Mountain
The drive down Abu Road yesterday was anything but ordinary. A steady stream of vehicles climbed uphill with urgency—forest department jeeps, fire brigade units, and private water tankers—all converging toward a wildfire reported near Chippaburry. The mountain, once again, was under threat.
But this is no longer surprising. It is becoming seasonal.
A winter of poor rainfall has left Mount Abu exposed. The undergrowth has dried to a crisp, the soil has lost its moisture, and the vegetation—once resilient—is now reduced to kindling. Add rising temperatures, erratic winds, and prolonged dry spells, and the forest resembles a waiting hazard rather than a living ecosystem.
And yet, year after year, we behave as though fires are accidents.
They are not.
These are the expected results of neglect, such as uncontrolled tourism, poor waste disposal, and a lack of strict enforcement on roads and at forest borders. Cigarette butts tossed without thought, glass bottles left behind to trap sunlight, and unchecked human movement through sensitive areas—these are not isolated acts. They are part of a pattern.
Mount Abu has seen repeated forest fires over the years, but preparedness still feels reactive rather than preventive. While frontline staff risk their lives in harsh terrain—steep slopes, shifting winds, and limited access—the larger question remains: are they being supported?
DFO Balaji Kari and his team have been preparing for months, anticipating such outbreaks. Their efforts on the ground deserve recognition. However, enhanced departmental preparation, including superior equipment, a larger workforce, and collaborative planning among the Forest Department, local government, and tourism bodies, is essential to match this stronger structural support.
Because the pressures are only increasing.
This summer, Abu faces a convergence of challenges—water shortages, deteriorating roads, and a surge in tourist footfall. Each of these strains the landscape further. A forest fire, in this context, is not just an isolated crisis—it is a symptom of cumulative stress.
Accountability remains diffused.
When regulations are lax and deterrence is lacking, the responsibility unnoticeably transfers to the least capable individuals, namely, field personnel and nearby communities. The same Abuites who, once again, stepped forward to help contain the fire alongside officials. The field staff and local residents make commendable contributions, but policy should not rely on them as a substitute.
Because at its core, this is no longer just about fire.
It is about how Mount Abu is being managed—or mismanaged—when ecological fragility is at its peak.
The mountain is giving us clear signals.
Dry forests. Shrinking water sources. Rising incidents.
The question is no longer whether another fire will occur.
It is whether we will continue to meet it with reaction, or finally respond with foresight.
