"Going green" isn't as easy as it seems

Topping my list for New Year resolutions is "going green" (among other not-so-virtuous intentions like being nasty to the neighbour who is nasty to the dog).  Wait, you'd think that with me being slotted as an environmentalist, I would already be living the lifestyle of a green-diva.

I wish!

It’s hip, being green. Even fashion events have environment-themed shows. But who can actually don those dresses that models sashay around in? Everyone likes to package (wrong word in the green context, since packaging implies waste) their products as eco-friendly and green, but it isn’t easy. And I will show you why.

I started with a basic target: food. It was a calculated move; I had a good start being a vegetarian, and thus a lighter footprint on the planet. No, this is not an invitation to get into the veg versus non-veg debate, merely stating a fact. I have the stats to back me up, but let’s leave that for another column, another day.

And so I went shopping, armed with (what else) a trendy jute bag that proclaimed my credentials.

I bought organic dal, spices, jam, pickle, oil, veggies, jowar, cheese — the works. The bill was a bummer... decidedly higher than the average grocer, or Big Bazaar. Nonetheless, I sat down — quite smug — to enjoy my meal, till my eye caught a label that ruined my appetite. My meal, or at least some of it, had travelled well over a 1,000 miles. The carbon trail (so said my green calculator) nullified the assumed absence of toxic pesticides and fertilisers. So, currently, I am on the hunt for certified, organic, locally grown stuff. I have, however, turned a blind eye to the electricity (web search) and fuel (physical hunt) spent in the process. 

If you thought food was tough, I haven't even mentioned cosmetics yet. A breeze, with the numerous herbal brands on shelves? Ha! 

Firstly, who can say that the herbal content is for real? And if it is, it is even more of a cause for worry. Other questions arise. Where were the herbs harvested? Was it sustainable harvesting? Really sustainable? Let’s say the herb in question is Indian gooseberry or amla. While it is grown commercially, much of it is harvested from forests, by local communities. Maybe a tiger forest. Of course, this provides livelihood, but the flip side is that human presence and intrusion in the forests disturbs wild animals like tigers.  Also, it is food for many wild species, and such huge offtake literally takes this vital item off their menu. The same logic applied to the bamboo furniture I was eyeing. We believe bamboo to be very eco-friendly, which it is. But harvesting huge quantities of it from pristine forests is a really bad idea. Bamboo is vital food for elephants, and provides good cover for many animals from the peafowl to the tiger. For those interested, my answer here is the kitchen shelf and "dadima ke nuskhe…" Trust me, they work. 

Cotton was another fantasy — silk is out; the lovely lustre and strength comes from boiling silk worms alive. Cotton is the world's most pesticide intensive crop. In India, it uses up half of the country’s pesticide. One cotton T-shirt uses up to 7,000 litres of water. The Bhopal Union Carbide plant manufactured "carabaryl" — a pesticide used mainly for cotton. (Oh. My. God.)

You don’t want to go shopping with me. Really. Try looking at a simple bar of soap through the green scope. Is it organic? Locally made? Vegan? Cruelty free? Does it have palm oil (the primary culprit behind the destruction of rainforests)?

My friends — those that remain — are fed up with my "don’ts". Going out with me is a minefield, they say. I don’t do McDonald’s, ever.  The brand is not only cruel to cows (and chickens), but raising beef for burgers has cleared thousands of acres of prime rainforests. Ditto, for KFC et al. Malls are another grouse — they guzzle energy and water and, to me, are the symbol of the hyper-consumerist culture that majorly damages our environment and ecology. There’s one I especially dislike: a luxury mall that stands over the graveyard of the Delhi Ridge. It is beyond my comprehension. The ridge — the northern tip of the Aravalis — is one of the world’s oldest mountain ranges, and we flattened its verdant, craggy slopes and destroyed the forests for a mall, clones of which exist across the capital, and beyond.

I crib at weddings — not because of overdose of relatives and matchmaking aunties — but the sheer waste. Diwali is simply a fest of air and noise pollution. Quickie parties are a no-no; it means Styrofoam/plastic cups and plates. While we are at it, let me question why everything is disposable these days — be it razors, cameras, and even underwear? Why is it almost impossible to repair anything, or the cost almost equal to a new product? If your AC goes wrong, out it goes in to the dump. Ditto for your laptop, washing machine, etc. Durables aren’t durable anymore. 

Mobiles are a nightmare. Like all and sundry, I am attracted to new, younger models, but my lust died when I learnt that manufacturing cell phones was killing gorillas, by destroying their forests. It goes like this: Tantalum, a mineral in mobile phones (also tablets and laptops) is mainly sourced from Congo, which is home to one of the most endangered species on the planet, and our kin, with whom we share 98% DNA — the mountain gorilla. Damn.  Back to the entertainment scenario: films. I enjoy them (well, some). But here, too, is trouble. I discovered that a seemingly innocent film leaves a trail of devastation. Finding Nemo, a delightful animation of a clown fish desperate to get out of its glass bowl and back into the freedom of the seas had little boys and girls wanting their own Nemo, in their own glass bowl — and flushing them down the toilet to grant them freedom. Need I add that this dramatically shot up the demand up for rare coral fish, and lakhs were sacrificed in the process. 

I really enjoyed the film Three Idiots, but throughout the film, the pleasure of the craft was dampened by the knowledge that the wetlands in Ladakh had been disturbed by the noise, lights and garbage when the film's climax was shot. Worse, the exquisite Pangong Tso lake, once a pristine refuge for migratory birds and other wildlife, is now called the "Three Idiots lake", and welcomes many other such idiots for their dose of selfies and bhelpuri.

The point is, everything, every action, each activity of ours has a footprint. A large, grimy, toxic footprint. How do you figure out what the wiser choice is? You must have heard this one: paper bag or polythene. The latter refuses to disintegrate and chokes the soil and drains, kills marine life; paper is pulped trees. I use cotton (I know, I know) bags. I am still fumbling to come with up with a solution for a similar dilemma: toilet paper or water.

I advocate: Think before you buy, consume, and use. No, you need not turn into a hermit, but delve deeper into the products that define your shopping list. Look at where and how the product was sourced, ask questions, make wise choices, spread the word, and go a step ahead — tell the manufacturer why you chose some other product over theirs. Strive for a lighter footprint.

Admittedly, I fail. Ever so often.

Try telling the domestic help, “no flowing water while doing the dishes, or the clothes”. I try and give her excess water from the bath tub (filled to a tenth of the potential) for swabbing, hand her a cloth bag to buy groceries, (no polythenes, please), and segregate the waste veggies to be dumped in the garden.

She left. And spread the word that madam is stingy, even with water, and rotten vegetables.

I am ashamed to say I saved the domestic help; not the planet.