The Cost of Convenience: How Our Choices Shape the Planet
My dear friends,
Last night, as I was mindlessly scrolling through BigBasket for our weekly groceries, my daughter spotted something that made her jump with excitement. "Papa, look! Mangoes!" she squealed, pointing at my phone screen. My finger hovered over the 'Add to Cart' button, but her next question made it freeze in mid-air: "But Papa, you told me mangoes only come in summer? Why are they here in November?"
Such an innocent question. Such a damning indictment of what we have become.
How do I explain to a 10-year-old that we have broken the very rhythm of seasons? That somewhere, in our race to have everything available at every moment, we have created a world where 'seasonal' is just a quaint concept from the past? That these mangoes probably flew more miles than she has in her entire life, burning fossil fuels just so we could satisfy our year-round cravings? That her generation might be the last to know what a 'seasonal fruit' even means?
A simple question that kept me awake all night.
I am writing this with a heavy heart, not just as an environmental advocate, but as a father watching his child's future unravel in real-time. The latest Lancet report just confirmed my worst fears: India faces some of the worst health impacts from climate change globally. In 2022, Indians lost 16.3 billion potential labour hours due to heat exposure. That's not just a statistic – it's countless families pushed deeper into poverty because it's literally becoming too hot to work.
Let's talk about our daily lives in India, shall we? Twenty years ago, a two-wheeler was a luxury in middle-class families. Today, it's common for a family of four to own two cars. We've added 20 million vehicles to our roads in just the last five years. We are buying more petrol cars than ever at exactly the moment scientists tell us we have about 30 years of oil left. Think about that for a second: we are making 7-year car loans for a fuel that's running out. It's like rushing to buy more tickets for the Titanic after spotting the iceberg.
As a health-conscious Mumbai parent, like many others, we have somehow convinced ourselves that our children need imported quinoa, chia seeds, and avocados to be healthy. The same children whose grandparents thrived on local grains and seasonal vegetables. Each "superfood" trend brings new imported products, while our local millets and traditional superfoods like amaranth gather dust. Last month, I paid ?800 for imported blueberries that travelled 8,000 kilometres to reach my daughter's lunchbox, while the lady selling local berries outside Nerul station struggles to make ?200 a day. When did we decide that food had to cross oceans to be nutritious?
Let me ask you some uncomfortable questions:
The Lancet report paints a grim picture. Heat-related deaths among people over 65 have increased by 70% in India compared to the 1991-2000 baseline. Our children are growing up in a world where breathing clean air is a luxury. Delhi's air is so toxic that breathing it for a day equals smoking 10 cigarettes.
We have built gleaming malls in every city, but at what cost? Each air-conditioned shopping complex consumes as much electricity as 100 rural homes. Our urbanisation is so rapid that we are losing 2,000 hectares of forest cover every year. When I was young, sparrows were everywhere. When was the last time you saw one?
Remember how we used to sleep on our terraces in summer? Today, it's too hot even at night. Last year, Madhya Pradesh recorded 49°C – that's not just uncomfortable, it's approaching the limit of human survival. The Lancet confirms that 72% of India's population is now exposed to extreme heat.
And food? We waste 67 million tonnes of food annually while 190 million Indians go hungry. Every rotting tomato in your fridge, every half-eaten restaurant meal, every expired packet in your pantry – they're all contributing to methane emissions from landfills.
I recall my daughter getting excited about seeing butterflies in one of those artificial butterfly gardens at one of the airports. "Papa, look how beautiful!" she exclaimed. I didn't have the heart to tell her that when I was her age, these winged jewels were everywhere - in our gardens, parks, even balconies. Now we need special enclosures to preserve what once was common. It's like we are creating wildlife museums while destroying their natural homes.
Speaking of wildlife, last week during my evening walk near the holding pond in Seawoods, I saw snakes for the first time in a decade. Their sudden appearance isn't a good sign - it's a desperate migration. All around us, Navi Mumbai's remaining green spaces are being swallowed by construction. Every patch of marshy land being "developed," every mangrove being "cleared" - we are forcing these creatures out of their homes. The same development that is driving away our flamingos is now pushing even the most resilient creatures into our paths.
I hope you know that we are building an international airport right in the flight path of flamingos. Think about that absurdity for a moment: we are placing tons of concrete and steel in the exact spot where birds have been migrating for centuries. It's like building a wall across a highway and expecting traffic to figure out a new route.
The Maharashtra Coastal Zone Management Authority - and notice the irony in that name - has essentially signed the eviction notice for these birds. They have approved the destruction of crucial roosting sites for our "development." These flamingos, who have been following the same migratory patterns since before Mumbai was even called Bombay, are now expected to somehow navigate around our metal birds.
The real tragedy? This isn't just about flamingos. The airport site is sandwiched between Karnala Bird Sanctuary and the Matheran Hills, with Thane Creek's mangroves completing this delicate ecological triangle. It's like we are dropping a concrete bomb in the middle of nature's perfect design. When my daughter asks where the flamingos went, should I tell her we traded their homes for duty-free shops?
The digital world we are so proud of? Each Google search produces 0.2 grams of CO2. India performs about 5 billion searches monthly. Our data centres, running 24/7, consume more electricity than many small cities.
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But here's what keeps me up at night: The Lancet reports that children born in 2020 will face 2-7 times more extreme weather events than those born in 1960. My daughter will experience:
What future are we leaving for her?
Yet, there's hope. Real, tangible hope – if we act now. Here's what you can do:
1.?Rethink Consumption
2. Change Daily Habits
3.?Build Community in Our Concrete Jungle
4.?Use Your Voice
My daughter is driven by the idea of becoming an astronaut! ?But there is a bitter irony in her choice that she is perhaps too na?ve to understand. Perhaps she's onto something - having made such a mess of our own planet, we are already dreaming of escaping to others. But here's the thing - there is no Planet B, no backup Earth waiting for us. Mars might be fascinating, but try breathing its air or growing food in its soil. We need to fix our home, not plan our escape.
The same Lancet report that terrifies me also gives me hope: it states that rapid action now could still prevent the worst impacts. But that window is closing. Fast.?
So I ask you, as a father, as a friend, as a fellow human: What world do you want to leave for our children? When my daughter is my age, what story will she tell about what we did in this crucial moment?
The choice is ours. But not for long.
?With hope, love, and determination,
An anxious earthling !
P.S. If you think this letter is too alarming, consider this: the planet will survive. It's our children's future we are gambling with.
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Founder Sustainability Edge Consulting , Sustainability ( ESG), AMR Expert in Pharma mfg & Supply Chain
3 周Very informative and helpful to adapt right lifestyle.