The road less traveled may not have typical riches at the end, more usually then not there is rainbow twinkling showing the path to yet another road less traveled.
Before joining IIFM, my education—spread across 8 schools and a college thanks to my father’s Air Force postings—was anything but conventional. Living in remote, nature-filled locales shaped my love for the environment and the freedom to explore. IIFM became a turning point, transforming me from someone unsure about career directions into a person with purpose. Peers, Faculty mentors, visiting experts, and the vibrant IIFM community introduced me to pathways I hadn’t imagined, equipping me with tools for critical thinking and action. My family’s unwavering support, asking only if I was happy and how they could help, was my bedrock. Friends and mentors guided me through, adding wisdom and a whole lot of fun. IIFM was where I learned to think critically, act purposefully, and embrace challenges with humor and grace—a transformative journey that that helped me discover my potential and purpose.
inaturalist : https://www.inaturalist.org/people/ram_k
ebird : https://ebird.org/profile/NDcyMjI3 (profile accessible to ebird users members only)
Email : [email protected]
Founder – India’s Nature (A Nature & Biodiversity Community Science Initiative)
Preface
I am not sure how I am going to efficiently communicate 31 years post IIFM and the 2 years at IIFM. I fear I find everything so exciting and wonderful that it will seem like a disservice to curtail memories, however with a heart weighed down by gneiss resolve, I will endeavor to be efficient.
Q. How has been your journey from IIFM (Indian Institute of forest management ) so far?
A. What can I say? It has been an interesting journey. Like many lives, it has had its share of ups and downs—much like the mountains I now call home, complete with the vagaries of weather and the occasional political and social storms. But through it all, there has been the eternal beauty of life in nature.
My heart and mind still beat with the excitement of a child—one that never tires of the wonders around us. Whether it’s the landscapes that captivate the soul, the incredible people I have the privilege of meeting and working with, or the marvels of technology we have today, I am endlessly amazed.
Thirty-one years ago, I set out from IIFM with the goal of staying grounded and as close to the land and nature as possible. I consider myself incredibly fortunate to still be doing just that, with the same passion and thrill as when I first began.
Q. What were some of the key milestones/learning in this journey that you would like to share with us?
A. In May 1994, fresh out of IIFM, a group of us—including Rekha Vasudevan, Anand Verdhan Sinha, Paul Basil, myself, and I think S Bala Subramanyam —were recruited by NTGCF (National Tree Growers Cooperative Federation), which later transitioned into the Foundation for Ecological Security (FES). While all of us joined, not everyone ended up where they had hoped. The Munsiari team, a prized destination, was where Anand was designated to go. However, a personal loss led him to request a change, and while he suggested me as his replacement, the organization instead sent me to Gujarat, diverting me from my first choice of Angul, Orissa.
In hindsight, this was a stroke of luck. I joined the Gujarat Spearhead Team (SHT), whose main office coincidentally shared the location with the organization’s headquarters. There, I was warmly welcomed by Atul Mishra and Neeraj Subrat, (and a super senior whose name I regrettably forget) who treated me like a errant younger brother. Gujarat also had a strong IIFM network—R Srinivasan was at IIM Ahmedabad, Ranjit Panda at ORG Baroda, and classmates Ajay Sharma and Manish Verma were with AKRSP in Sayla and Netrang, respectively. Juniors often came nearby for their internships, adding to the camaraderie and sustaining the energy of our early career days.
Key Learnings and Experiences in Gujarat
My orientation in the SHT involved extensive travel to the villages and landscapes where the team worked. I really think the team expected me to get frightened off and become an office babu. This was an eye-opening period. I explored diverse regions like the tidal flats of Khambhat (and munched on Salvadora persica leaves and twigs for good measure), the rolling hills of Panchmahals, the fertile but challenging black cotton soil farms in Baroda District, and the iconic Pavagadh Mountain. These experiences allowed me to interact with numerous communities and witness the interplay between human lives and their environments all the while experiencing rural Gujarat.
One unforgettable experience was being stranded, with a colleague and other people, in a bus, overnight on a high point in the road during a flash flood—a reminder that nature will keep having its own way. I also vividly recall visiting rewilded areas, which brought a profound realization: the simple yet collective act of protecting and planting degraded land could transform it into a thriving forest. Of course, this transformation required deep engagement with communities and substantial groundwork.
The monsoon season was a period of intense action. Helping communities prepare and plant hundreds of seedlings taught me the value of teamwork, planning, and persistence. My responsibilities included preparing the land for planting, sourcing and supplying seedlings and following up on their planting, and the associated paperwork to ensure the records were up-to-date and the payments made—a process that deeply grounded me in both the logistical and relational aspects of fieldwork.
Transition to Munsiari
Despite the richness of my Gujarat experience, Munsiari remained a dream. Stories of high mountains, snow, and my future boss Emmanuel Theophilus (Theo)—immortalized in a pinned up photo handling a snake—kept my motivation alive. I persisted, advocating to both the Head Office and the Munsiari team that I belonged there. My efforts paid off, and I finally joined the Munsiari team, marking the beginning of a new chapter filled with its own set of milestones and learning.
1995 January to 2006 March: SHT Munsiari
When I arrived in Munsiari in January 1995, I had little idea of what to expect. In fact, no one from our organization, except our Managing Director (Mr. VK Mishra), had ventured there before. The journey itself, undertaken in the depths of a snowy winter, was an adventure in its own right. Once there, I quickly settled into the rhythm of life, including enduring the “naya murga ko ragad te hai” phase of being the newbie.
With Theo as my boss and mentor, I was fortunate to have someone who guided me extensively over the years. Paired with a fantastic team, the following decade was simply extraordinary. Our work was everything I had hoped for—grounded, meaningful, and in constant interaction with communities. Every village along the 120 km valley, stretching from alpine hamlets near glaciers to subtropical settlements amid sal forests, had its unique challenges and stories to share.
Nature as the Ultimate Teacher
The seasons in Munsiari were dramatic, the landscape was raw and it felt like one was transported back in time, and nature itself was the predominant teacher. Earthquakes, floods, landslides and cloudbursts were juxtaposed with ethereal snowfalls, monsoons where the sun seemed to vanish entirely, and autumns that unveiled clear, breathtaking views of the Panchachuli peaks. Wildlife encounters were frequent—Himalayan black bears, leopards, golden eagles, woodcocks, pit vipers, cascade frogs, rare orchids, and alpine medicinal plants reminded us of the privilege of working in such a special place in a special time.
Equally transformative was the genuine warmth of the mountain communities. The people were welcoming, and their open-heartedness became one of the greatest privileges of this experience. Visiting these remote villages, where hospitality often outshone their resources, reinforced the value of community-centered work.
Milestones in Work and Learning
Our work involved institutional arrangements, tackling complicated project logistics, introducing localized technological improvements, and learning to navigate local politics and administrative systems. Each day was an opportunity to experiment, think creatively, and build camaraderie—not only within our team but also with the community.
Living and working in Munsiari fostered trust with the locals. We were not just outsiders on a job but became friends and collaborators. The simplicity of life at the time—no electricity, no phones or snacks like Haldiram’s, or Cadbury chocolates in the bazaar, and a single public bus operating to and fro from Munsiari—only added to the authenticity of our connections. I still have copies of the “news”letters I hand wrote and copied to send to my classmates.
Adventures Beyond Work
Between 1995 and 2006, I had opportunities to travel across the Himalayas, adding many, yet to be written, chapters of this journey. A major highlight was supporting Ms. Malika Virdi, an incredible mentor and a dear friend, during the 1997 Trans-Himalayan Women’s Expedition. Their 220-day trek from Bomdila in Arunachal Pradesh to Karakoram Pass in Ladakh was historic.
I was fortunate to join the expedition as part of the core team for 66 days, from Malari in Chamoli district to Khardung La in Ladakh. Those days are etched into my core memory—filled with awe-inspiring sights, moments of sheer terror, and unmatched camaraderie. Crossing Kalindi Khal (19,800 feet) was a literal high point, while traversing the Valley of Flowers, passes like Bhyundar Khal, Lamkhaga, and Parang La, and walking alongside Tso Moriri and the Indus River, revealed the dazzling diversity of the high Himalayan landscape.
Later adventures included exploring the Tehtyan sea region near Lapthal, the Khingur La and Untadhura passes in 1998, and the Shipu-Ralam Pass in 2002. In 2004, aloing with Theo , and other team members we ventured into Tibet via the Lipulekh Pass to acquire yaks, while our return route also passed through Adi Kailash and the Sin La Pass. I revisited Lapthal last July along with my team, in the company of Dr Gopal Rawat (former Director and Dean of the Wildlife Institute of India – WII)
The End of an Era
In 2006, FES decided to shut down the Munsiari project—a decision driven by politics and personal egos rather than the needs of the people or the project. While the closure was deeply disappointing, it was also a turning point. It revealed the limitations of large organizations and their nasty ability to compromise principles for survival. It taught me to be cautious of systems that place egos above values and showed me the importance of remaining grounded in purpose.
In hindsight, this chapter in Munsiari was not just a professional journey but a life-altering one. It reinforced my belief in the power of community-driven work and the lessons nature has to offer.
2006 to 2018 – Himal Prakriti & Himalayan Ark
This chapter of my life was both challenging and exhilarating—founding an organization with friends (Malika, Theo, and I) and building something meaningful from the ground up. We worked hard during a time of political and financial uncertainty, I personally received the support of friends (like Varsha Mehta and Jayesh Bhatia), as well as family, that made this journey possible. Their belief in our decision to remain independent—eschewing large, inherently compromised organizations—was a source of immense strength.
The Genesis of Himal Prakriti
Himal Prakriti was conceived as a non-profit committed to conservation, environmental justice, strengthening rural livelihoods, and skill-building. Starting from scratch, we gradually built a body of work and a reputation for integrity and impactful initiatives. Our small but efficient team embraced the constraints of limited resources, which shaped my approach to work even today.
One of our efforts from 2007 to 2013 was our involvement in the Uttarakhand Save the Rivers Campaign. This collective initiative brought together non-profits, activists, scientists, and communities to document the state of Uttarakhand’s rivers, expose the consequences of destructive development, and amplify the voices of those affected. We highlighted the prescient warnings of scientists and engineers—many of which, tragically, have since become reality. Today, the region continues to suffer from a lack of lessons learned, with the meaning of “development” often distorted to serve narrow interests.
Facing the Reality of Climate Change
The epochal floods of 2013, preceded by devastating cloudbursts in 2009 and 2010, underscored the harsh reality of climate change. These events shattered the illusion of safety in the mountains, leaving communities under a constant, unpredictable threat—a grim game of Russian roulette with nature leaving us wondering who is next and when ?
Himalayan Ark: A Beacon of Sustainable Tourism
Himalayan Ark emerged as an innovative, community-based tourism initiative centered in Sarmoli Village. The community tourism initiatives originally started in 2003-04, focused on a women-centric homestay enterprise, equitable tourism practices, and strong advocacy for community rights over forests.
By prioritizing sustainability, fairness, and empowerment, Himalayan Ark became a trailblazer in rural tourism. Its impact culminated in 2023, when Sarmoli and this community initiative received national recognition as one of the Best Rural Tourism Villages in India.
Looking back, I take immense pride in having been a core member of the team that helped make this vision a reality. Himalayan Ark remains a shining example of what can be achieved when communities are empowered to take the lead in shaping their own futures.
Q. How has been your experience in your current Organization? What all areas have you been working here?
A. 2018 Onwards: The Road Less Funded but Full of Life
In 2018, I decided to step away from my roles at Himal Prakriti and Himalayan Ark, seeking more time to explore and focus on what truly inspired me. Varsha Mehta especially, and Jayesh were among those who helped me navigate this transition, offering guidance and encouragement. By late 2019, I found my next path: natural history education – training nature guides in a comprehensive two-year program. It was fulfilling work, blending education and the outdoors—until the world changed in March 2020.
The pandemic turned everything upside down, and I had to rethink how to work remotely with 15 odd trainees in a field that thrives on hands-on, outdoor experiences. This is when I discovered the potential of Citizen Science (CitSci). Platforms like iNaturalist, eBird, and the India Biodiversity Portal became vital tools. CitSci’s concept of open participation in documenting biodiversity resonated deeply with my existing belief in Creative Common and the open source way of life. What began as birdwatching soon expanded into butterflies, moths, beetles, and plants. It became a shared journey of discovery and learning that carried us through the challenges of lockdowns and uncertainty.
The cliched but true labor of love: India’s Nature
Since then, my work has revolved around documenting nature and using it as an educational tool under the banner of India’s Nature, a Community Science initiative launched in 2020. Despite being a volunteer-driven effort with limited resources, we have organized events like Monsoon Beauty and Beetle Mania that have engaged participants nationwide for 5 years now. These events are not just about data collection; they are about inspiring a connection with nature. And creating an environment that is welcoming. Over the years, our efforts have led to exciting discoveries, from the Brown Parrotbill’s first record in Uttarakhand to rediscovering the Eversmann’s Redstart after 132 years, and even rare insect finds. There was even a novel frog, Scutiger kanjiroba, but alas, someone else beat us to the naming and describing rights. The lesson? Nature waits for no one, paper works faster!
Mentorship: More Than Just a Buzzword
Mentorship has been a particularly rewarding part of this journey. I have supported individuals from rural communities, providing them with resources like fellowships, equipment, and opportunities to learn and explore. Many of them are now accomplished contributors on platforms like iNaturalist and eBird, documenting biodiversity and sharing their knowledge with others. Seeing their growth and enthusiasm has been immensely fulfilling.
Collaborating with experts like Dr. Gopal Rawat (Former Director , & Dean WII), Sanjay Sondhi (Founder, Titli Trust) and Dr. Ghazala Shahabuddin (Visiting Faculty ATREE and Ashoka University) and with friends and colleagues – Dr Jennifer Divyadarshi (Jenny) and Sandilya Theuerkauf has further enriched this journey. Their insights and expertise have been invaluable, and working alongside them has underscored the importance of building a community of shared learning and support.
Ethical nature observation is another cornerstone of our work. Through the Uttarakhand Nature Guide Forum, we are fostering a culture of responsible nature tourism and observation, ensuring that our enjoyment of the natural world does not come at its expense or at the expense of communities on the forefront of conservation.
About India’s Nature
India’s Nature, founded in 2020, is a community science initiative focused on conservation, education, and raising awareness about biodiversity and climate change. The initiative is volunteer-driven and self-funded, with a small team who balance their earning work to support its efforts. At its core, India’s Nature aims to foster a deep appreciation for nature, nurture educators and leaders in natural history and climate change—especially from rural communities—and document biodiversity in less explored regions. Additionally, we work together with communities to understand and address the impacts of climate change.
Q. What is the most satisfying part in your career?
A. The most satisfying part of my career? The freedom to explore and grow has been my guiding force, something I found both at IIFM and in Munsiari. It is a freedom I hope others, especially those from less privileged backgrounds, can experience too and that drives my current efforts to enable the same privilege for others.
Having come from a system where creativity was discouraged, it was a revelation to be in an environment where I was responsible for everything—assignments, presentations, exams, extracurricular, and social relationships. In academics some subjects were just about getting through, while others fueled my passion. With great choice comes great responsibility (I will leave“great power” part to Peter Parker or his Uncle) In hindsight, I know I mostly made the right choices—where to work, with whom, and what to do with my life. Sure, there are regrets: lost friendships, missed opportunities, and the occasional “not-saying-no” moments. But in the end, the whole—imperfect as it is—is greater than the sum of its parts.
Q. Has your learning at IIFM helped in shaping how you approach your professional roles?
A. Absolutely. Every subject at IIFM offered a new tool in my toolkit. Whether it was Prof. B.P. Pethiya’s assignments that emphasized timeliness and efficiency, others that valued color and creativity, or courses that required deep reading and comprehension, each contributed to shaping my approach. The OT’s and fieldwork exposed me to diverse initiatives, broadening my horizons and equipping me to tackle any challenge with a positive mindset. However, one thing that was notably lacking in the IIFM curriculum was a socio-political orientation, which I later picked up on the job / in life—thanks to mentors who generously shared their thoughts and experience and pushed me to look beyond the mainstream.
Q. Who (or what) are the biggest influences or drivers in your careers?
A. Before joining IIFM, I have to admit that my education, shaped by attending 8 schools and a college due to my father’s career in the Indian Air Force, didn’t exactly follow the typical path. But what those years lacked in normal schooling, they made up for in exposure to nature. Most of the places we lived were far from cities, surrounded by natural beauty—forests, riversides, farms, and mountains. The freedom to wander these landscapes, combined with access to great libraries, made reading feel like a natural extension of my surroundings. It didn’t take long before I became deeply connected to the world of nature. The fact that my parents were okay with me not following a traditional – doctor, engineer, armed forces path was also reassuring.
At IIFM, my peers and seniors were the ones who opened doors to pathways I hadn’t even considered. I owe a great deal to the guidance of faculty like Dr. N.P. Melkania, Prof. P.C. Kotwal, Dr. C.S. Rathore, Prof. P.K. Biswas, and Prof. Pethiya, as well as some external faculty who contributed their expertise. Later, my career was also shaped by Theo, my boss and friend, followed by Malika, whose influence was significant.
Of course, my large loving family—especially my parents—played a foundational role. They never questioned my choices, but simply asked, “Are you happy?” and “How can we help?” Their unwavering support has been a constant. And while I have had mentors and guiding figures along the way, friends have also been instrumental in my journey. I hope I am able to be as present for them as they have been for me.
IIFM was the turning point, the fulcrum that shifted how I saw my potential. Before IIFM, I was trying to reconcile the need for a practical job with my love for doing something meaningful. IIFM gave me the framework, the tools to make both happen. It was here that I learned not just how to think critically but how to implement those thoughts in a way that makes a difference.
Q. What would be your advice to freshers and IIFM graduates who are looking to choose similar sectors/roles.
A. Some time ago I learned a new word “Oubaitori the Japanese philosophy of embracing individuality and not comparing yourself to others, recognizing that everyone blooms at their own pace.”
So Be brave, nourish the bud and the bloom will come.
My personal philosophy? Do what you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life. Of course, that is a little cheesy and, let’s face it, not entirely true—bread and butter (or paneer) still matter. But it does help to be clear about what you need to earn and what you want to do. Once you figure that out, try to find a way to combine both.
Recently a PFM student once asked me this same question but with a caveat: they needed to be financially secure for their family. My response was simple—yes, go ahead, get a good job, and learn while you earn. But don’t lose sight of your core passion. It is never too late to shift lanes and move toward something you love.
Try new things and give them time. Learning and results don’t come overnight, so patience and dedication are key. Remember, work towards your goals without getting too tangled up in an organization. At the end of the day, you are just an employee, and organizations care about you… until they don’t.
Find great mentors. Choosing who to work with is one of the most important decisions you will make. There are inspiring leaders, gentle mentors, and enablers and then there are toxic (insert appropriate expletive here) folks. Avoid the latter—you will never regret it.
And finally, Schrödinger’s lesson in life: learning to say yes and learning to say no. While saying yes can open doors to exciting possibilities, the deeper wisdom often lies in knowing when to say no. It’s not just okay to say no; it’s also okay to walk away from relationships that feel constricting or harmful. Sometimes, breaking free—even through divorce—can be profoundly liberating. The power of no is not just about setting boundaries but about reclaiming your freedom and choosing what truly serves your well-being.
Q. What are your favorite memories during your IIFM days?
A. Oh god, where to start? It probably all began when I came for the Group Discussion (GD) and Interview—in the height of summer, probably late April.
PFM was a significant milestone in my adult life. The whole admission process involved a bit of drama. Vineet Rai and I were in the same GD batch, and we hit it off right away, swearing we would try again if we didn’t make it. (By the way, Ratna claims she was in our batch, observing us from a “safe distance”—but I don’t buy it. She was way too strong a personality and talkative; there is no way we wouldn’t have noticed her!) Anyway, we got through, and I (barely) made it—so big thanks to all those who didn’t join and cleared the wait-list I was on. Whoever you are, wherever you are, I forever bless you for choosing a different path.
I arrived a few weeks late, and by then, everyone had already settled in—except my roomie, Ajay Sharma. Apparently, Vineet had warned him I would be a handful, a threat to his calm and peaceful existence, so Ajay tried to recruit a gentler soul, Domo Diyum, as his roomie. But alas, due to the nuts and bolts of institutional bureaucracy and Domo kindly telling Ajay he was happy where he was, Ajay ended up stuck with me for the next two years. And to this day, he is one of my best friends. He claims to have no memory of this, but I stand firm in my recollection, backed by my impeccable memory.
When I arrived at IIFM, I was on top of the world—literally, on a mountain, and figuratively, in life. The stunning surroundings only added to the high. I was a teetotaler, and even with the wild parties and the roving, raving Tullu Train, I needed nothing more than to know that IIFM was the place where I could truly be myself.
Dec 1992 – Jan 1993: Field Work – Raipur Forest Division
Our scheduled Fieldwork was marked by both adventure and the turmoil of the times. In the aftermath of the Babri Masjid incident and the subsequent unrest, we students had to find a semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos. Anand Sinha and I rendezvoused in Delhi, eventually meeting Ajay Sharma on the train—or perhaps later—while Domo Diyum was already ahead in Raipur. The DFO there, eager to offload us, dispatched us to what he likely considered a “Kalapani” assignment: a remote Forest Rest House (FRH) south of Raipur.
For us, though, it was paradise. Isolated but tranquil, the FRH, managed by a local tribal healer whose wards hunted bats, saw only occasional visits from local forest officials, leaving us free to explore. We cycled through dense forests, visited historic forest villages, joined vibrant village festivals, and faced moments of sheer terror, such as walking back on a barely moonlit forest path where a tiger was rumored to roam. Each of us carried six books—carefully chosen to cover a variety of topics—and I vividly recall reading John Terborgh’s Diversity and the Tropical Rain Forest, a publication from earlier that year. That book profoundly shaped how I view forests and their intricate diversity.
March 1993: Dehradun, FRI, & Mussoorie
Dehradun was another unforgettable highlight of our time. Visiting the Forest Research Institute (FRI) was awe-inspiring, especially their arboretum and the Timber Museum, which displayed wood samples from countless tree species. The centerpiece—a cross-section of a centuries-old deodar tree—was truly magnificent. Coinciding with Holi, the trip offered us some free days, during which a group of us rented trekking gear and ambitiously set out for Nag Tibba. The adventure included plenty of drama (including an injury to a classmate that was definitely not my fault), ultimately leading us to the FRH at Devalsari amidst majestic deodars. Many of my classmates were trekking for the first time, and while Nag Tibba eluded us that time, I have since revisited Devalsari and recommend that as a place to visit to drink in the fresh breath of the magnificent Deodars.
Late 1993: Pachmarhi Trip
Before our final Organizational Training (OT), our batch had a joint excursion , with our Juniors (PFM 95), to Pachmarhi in September or October. Professors PC Kotwal and BP Pethiya accompanied us. Feeling our seniority and the fleeting freedom of student life, we had an absolute blast. The trip included a visit to Patalkot, a volcanic valley that has since become a tourist destination. Back then, however, it was still secluded, and the forest department guided us down steep paths into the crater to meet the Bharias, a community that had sought refuge there centuries ago with their king. The Bharias maintained a barter system with neighboring communities and guarded the secretive routes into their hidden haven.
But the real story wasn’t just about the landscapes or cultural insights—it was about the unfiltered joy and mischief of our group. With “uncivilization” coursing through our veins before reality would inevitably catch up, we reveled in every moment. Despite being “high” on life and Pachmarhi’s beauty I was the only teetotaler willing to be the designated liaison between our class and the faculty. Prof. Pethiya, however, was convinced I was high in all senses of the word. No amount of protest could convince him otherwise—something I hope he will reconsider if he ever stumbles across this anecdote and places it in a Harry Potter-style Pensieve for review.
Organizational Trainings (OTs): A Tale of Two Contrasts
Both of my OT’s (Summer and Winter Internships, I guess being called now) were memorable, albeit for very different reasons. For the first, I ventured solo into forest ecology research, choosing a topic close to my heart. This project took me to Kharagpur, where I worked with IBRAD, a research NGO. While the work itself was enriching, my reporting officer was, to put it kindly, a royal pain in the unmentionables—a buck-toothed tyrant who, to my enduring dismay, later joined IIFM as faculty.
The second OT was a complete contrast. Ajay and I decided to align our destinations and chose the well-reputed Seva Mandir in the picturesque city of Udaipur. Although we worked in different areas, the experience was immensely fulfilling, thanks to the warmth and kindness of the people there. Some of them, like my, defacto reporting officer, Anuradha Vishwanath, became lifelong friends.
My OT involved living in a Bhil village near Jhadol—this was among the early inklings I had of the kindness of people and their willingness to accommodate strange beings. Seva Mandir (Anuradha mainly) and Ajay later convinced me to lead a group of American students to this forest-surrounded village. Another memorable experience—but honestly, at the time, I would have preferred roaming the Aravalis with my Bhil family and getting lost in the forests rather than explaining to tourists why goats need names!
The National Forest Sports and Games Meet: Chaos to Triumph
The 1st National Forest Sports and Games Meet in the winter of 1992 was a story of glorious disasters. Held in Hyderabad, the event was marked by last-minute plans, tickets booked under fictitious names, and plenty of disqualifications. Despite these hiccups, a few of our star performers managed to save face for the team. The return journey, however, was the true highlight: strapped for cash and caught with mismatched names on our tickets, we pooled together what little money we had to pay fines and subsisted on belly-aching laughter. It turned into an unforgettable bonding experience, especially with the administrative staff who were excellent sportspeople in their own right.
Fast forward to the 2nd National Forest Sports and Games Meet in Dehradun (December 1993 – January 1994), and things took a turn for the better. This time, the arrangements were better organized, and our team was larger, with more women joining the contingent. The senior batch, including myself, made it to the event after wrapping up our OTs, while juniors cut short their field trips to participate. Staying in army barracks, we enjoyed great camaraderie and felt a growing sense of responsibility to perform better.
Despite the lack of any formal training (or even informal preparation, barring my long walks in the forested Aravallis near Jhadol as “training” ), we swept more awards and medals (a bronze for me in the men’s 400) this time around. The experience solidified our bonds and reinforced the spirit of teamwork. The matching track suits and later the matching medals made it unforgettable.
I sincerely hope that IIFM continues to encourage participation in this event—it’s more than just a competition; it’s a National and also a celebration of unity, and the sheer joy of taking part in national if not world class facilities and competing with the best the Forest Services have to offer.
Q. In hindsight, what was the biggest contribution or take away from IIFM that you think played a critical role in shaping you as an individual or professional
A. IIFM‘s greatest gift wasn’t a single course or professor, but the vibrant ecosystem itself. The ‘whole’ being greater than the sum of its ‘parts.’ While I wouldn’t drastically alter my past – like bone injuries the bad times have healed over and have probably left those portions stronger while the good times have become core memories..
My classmates, seniors, and juniors formed an invaluable network – this is not nostalgic hindsight. These relationships, both harmonious and contentious, were uniquely precious. One memorable example is Advait, with his characteristic Mumbai cool, introducing me to a non-venomous snake hiding in a flower pot, teaching me that familiarity breeds comfort. Though not ‘best friends’, I now appreciate their presence and can even handle them when necessary.
The library was a portal to undiscovered worlds- – it was like entering dreamland and finding all the books one had yet to dream about. While the nascent computer lab, with its 286s and 386s, became our playground. 24/7 access during OT report season fueled a thriving ‘Samosa economy.’ with a going rate of 1 plate of Samosas exchanged for an hour (I am not still sure who got the better deal here)!
Of course, the mess and the tea. It’s impossible to overlook the warmth of the tea break in the middle of classes—both physically and emotionally. The mess staff were the unsung heroes, feeding us, listening to our eccentricities, and tolerating the various oddities we brought with us. There was even a senior who had heart-shaped cutlets made to impress someone. It didn’t work, but we have that story forever, and it remains one of our cherished memories.
Then there was the unforgettable field trip to Kanha, Pench, and Chhindwara, organized by Director J.B Lal. We were treated like minor royalty, we were captivated by Kanha, especially the majestic old Sal Tree, a symbolic totem that has drawn me to ancient trees everywhere.
While my heart lay with forestry, ecology, and biology-related courses, where we had both tough taskmasters and brilliant minds, I navigated the other subjects more as a necessary detour. Initially, I endured them, but over time, the notes, assignments, and rigorous demands—along with the need to excel in a wider range of subjects—proved invaluable. They all played a part in shaping the whole.
In my undergraduate college and the eight (yes, eight) schools before that, I wasn’t exactly what one would call a star student—maybe a mildly twinkling one. Honestly, I am not even sure where the blame lies (if there is blame to be laid), but let’s just say academic brilliance wasn’t on my radar. Then came IIFM—a revelation, or perhaps more accurately, a friendly shove into the deep end of life’s deep river. Suddenly, I was forced to swim, or at least flail around convincingly, taking responsibility for everything: academics, interpersonal relationships, extracurricular activities, internships (OTs), and the daily chaos of student life.
Simply put, I was made an “adult,” and in the best way possible. Life at IIFM cornered me, looked me square in the eye, and asked, “Who do you want to be?” Apparently, my answer was convincing enough because I walked away with the Director’s Special Award “for being involved in and being good at most activities.” (That’s fancy talk for “a jack of all trades with just enough charm to pull it off.”)
IIFM didn’t just give; it also asked. I took, I responded, and somewhere in that process, I grew. The real gift wasn’t the shiny award—it was learning how to learn, assess, respond, and implement, all while having the kind of unfiltered, unabashed fun that makes adulthood seem like a slightly less daunting proposition. And perhaps the most remarkable part? It wasn’t a one-time thing. IIFM made sure this “learn-and-grow” approach was baked into the recipe for life.
Q. The best buddies / seniors /faculty at IIFM? Some memorable tidbits that you like to share?
A. I guess I can’t say I loved everyone—that would be a bit too rom-com cliché. I am sure some of my classmates didn’t exactly warm to me—maybe they found me loud, over the top, or just plain weird. But, despite that, I had my share of quiet, serious, and bonding moments with most. Some of these people, Varsha Mehta especially, have helped me through tough times at IIFM and later in life. Jayesh Bhatia, too, became the serious professional who always carried himself with gravitas and made time to listen. And as for Ajay Sharma? Well, he couldn’t get rid of me then, and he is now forever stuck as my roomie and bestie.
For a class of 23, I can confidently say that most of us can still pick up the phone, and it would feel like the 30 years between haven’t happened at all. A couple of years ago, Manish Shanker, Kanchan Ghosal, Manish Verma, and I had a reunion in the mountains. We spent most of the time gap filling and refreshing memories and then making some new ones. The 2019: 25th year reunion at IIFM was great but a bit short and crowded with official agendas—we ended up pretending to be more serious than we really were. Pre-COVID, I managed to catch up with Pranay Lal, Anish, Ratna, Anand, Jayesh, and a few others in Delhi. Post-Corona, I reconnected with Kavita Gandhi in Pune. Lately, though, work has kept me busy, and I find myself less available. We missed quite a few people at the reunion, and I really wish they had come, but it sparked some renewed connections, including tracking down Domo Diyum in Arunachal. For those who chose not to reconnect, I truly wish them the best and hope they are happy.
The one faculty member I did stay in touch with was Dr. C.S. Rathore. With most others it was a typical student-faculty relationship, but with Rathore Sir, there was an underlying camaraderie based on shared interests—tech, birds, and more—that made it feel special.
As for Preeti Rao—our junior, yet an adopted member of our batch—she has been a pillar of support and a constant presence. Whether during our time at IIFM, in FES as a colleague, or later in life, she has always been there, offering help and encouragement along the way.
I have made an effort to follow the journeys of my classmates over the years. Some, like Anand, Anish, Paul, Vineet, Manika, and Pranay, have built remarkable careers, and many others, though not named here, have done the same. At the same time, a few have faced unimaginable personal losses. Each of them, in their own way, has inspired me to keep striving to be the best version of myself.
Q. As an alumni, what’s your advice to freshers or those who are joining IIFM to get the best out of the 2 years there?
A. Try new things, explore, and let yourself go. This is the time to immerse yourself, both physically and intellectually, without worrying about failure. Remember, failing here means learning , and success is simply that same learning with a cherry on top. (And to clarify: I mean let yourself go in a healthy, intellectual, and physical sense—not through any substance use. I have always believed that the best experiences come from engaging with life fully, without relying on external crutches.)
One of the best things we had back then was the chance to interact, often, alumni—who, like the wise old sages, would come back and share both pearls of wisdom and the occasional darker tale. Unfortunately, with the increase in class sizes and the natural shift toward self-absorption, those impromptu alumni encounters seem to have become less frequent, and more structured. But don’t miss the chance to create those moments of connection—they are more valuable than you might think.
Q. what would be your advise for recent graduates who look for changing their sector after working for couple of years?
A. First, remember: it is never too late to change paths. We live in an age where anyone can do anything—provided they truly want it. If you are certain a change is what you need, then start laying the groundwork. Seek mentors, dive into learning, enroll in relevant courses—resources are abundant these days. Many of our alumni are thriving in careers that bear little resemblance to their starting points. Think of your first job as a primer, a way to understand how you engage with the real world. Once the initial first job emotion settles and you have tasted the elusive concept of a monthly salary and stability, it is a perfect time to explore your options.
That said, a word of caution. There is a fashionable idea floating around that frequent job-switching turbocharges salary growth. While that might be true in some cases, I would advise staying put early in your career. Take the time to work hard, weather the rough patches, and learn from each unique institution. Later, once you are more grounded, you can make deliberate choices about opportunities. But do so with respect—not necessarily for the organization but for the commitment you made to your work.
Q. What was your typical day at the work? And how does it look like while you are on a break?
A. There isn’t really a “typical” day—it all depends on the task at hand. Research days often start between 1 and 3 a.m., with early mornings spent in the field, mid-day breaks to rest up , while afternoons and evenings may be devoted to more research or general work. If we are out on multi day treks then camping business also takes up time. Some nights are for exploring nocturnal life: frogs, snakes, moths, or my personal favorite, the white-bellied flying squirrel. As I like to say, the early nerd catches the bird, and the night owl catches the flying squirrel 🙂
During Monsoon Beauty’s 65-day whirlwind, the pace is hectic. Weekly webinars, late-night moth and insect screens , and coordination take center stage. It’s as chaotic as it sounds, but equally rewarding.
Most of the time, though, I am in my home office in Munsiari—the ultimate workspace. The room has 360 degree views and large windows where life (and sometimes a whistling-thrush or langur or two) regularly distract me. Between writing reports, analyzing data, planning events, and the occasional admin task, my days pass in a blend of work and nature. A colleague, and another long-term India’s Nature Fellow also work from my home-office – we brainstorm or catch up, while our chats with another core India’s Nature member, Jennifer, in Delhi happen regularly over calls. Once a month our extended and as yet namless ‘samuh’ meet up online and discuss how we as a group can do more or what we want to do.
When downtime hits, I trade birds for a good binge-watch session, happily burning through my internet pack. And thanks to our citizen science programs, we often get to travel locally mostly for national or global events. These are some of the best times—exploring new trails, hosting public events, and sharing our passion with others. Whether it’s work or a break, there’s always something buzzing, hopping, or calling out to keep life interesting.
Q. And how about weekends, hobbies, family and anything else you want to add?
A. No better half—or quarter, or three-fourths. That space is happily taken up by family and friends. One of the perks of working from home (and a surprising post-COVID silver lining) is the freedom to work from anywhere. This means I often travel to catch up with loved ones, blending work and life in the best way possible. (Family don’t agree with the blending part)!
As for hobbies, binge-watching shows tops the list—for now. The first seasons are usually great, but then they nosedive, leaving me scouring for new series. Non academic reading has taken a backseat since most of it now revolves around work-related materials. Still, I am putting together a 2025 reading list spanning genres, and it’s shaping up to be a treasure trove. Once it’s ready, I’ll share it—I’m always excited to swap book ideas and uncover hidden gems.
My work also doubles as my hobby. The camera and binoculars are constant companions, always ready for action. Living next to a forest means there’s never a dull moment—something is always happening. The line between work and leisure gets blurry, sometimes in a good way, but other times it is just plain distracting, pulling me into yet another rabbit hole when I really should be attending to the molehill before it becomes a mountain.
I have stockpiled enough photos and audio recordings for citizen science platforms to survive a nuclear winter—now if only I could stockpile shows and snacks to match!
Q. Favorite Books, movies, authors?
A. Let me start by challenging this whole “favorites” concept—it’s nearly impossible to pick just one or even a few. Favorites evolve with time, mood, company and learning (and maybe yearning too). The older one gets, the more (or fewer) favorites one might have. That said, here’s a mix of what has left a lasting impression, what’s simply fun, and what I hope you will check out someday.
Movies:
- Amélie
- Kamal Haasan’s Michael Madana Kama Rajan
- The Lord of the Rings trilogy
- The original Star Wars trilogy (and, grudgingly, the prequels)
- Classics like Sholay, Masoom, Chak De! India, Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro, Angoor (the original version), and Amar Akbar Anthony (the Amitabh Bachchan one).
- PK, Shawshank Redemption, Sarfarosh
- Monty Python classics like The Holy Grail and Life of Brian
- Turup (set in Bhopal, a gem of a film)
- Jason Bourne Trilogy (the Matt Damon ones only)
- The Fall (2006 film) (Director Tarsem Singh)
Documentaries:
- Human (Director : Yann Arthus-Bertrand)
- The Century of the Self (Director : Adam Curtiss)
- The Living Planet (1984, narrated by Sir David Attenborough)
Series:
- Band of Brothers
- The Queen’s Gambit
- Jack Ryan
- Tracker
- Good Omens (Season 1 is brilliant; Season 2… let’s just not go there)
- Malgudi Days (Based on RK Narayan’s work by the same name)
Non Fiction Books:
- The Diversity of Life by E.O. Wilson
- Diversity and the Tropical Rain Forest by John Terborgh
- This Fissured Land: An Ecological History of India by Madhav Gadgil and Ramachandra Guha
- The Unquiet Woods: Ecological Change and Peasant Resistance in the Himalaya by Ramachandra Guha
- Gerald Durrell’s Corfu Trilogy
- The White Spider by Heinrich Harrer
- Kangshung Face by Stephen Venables
- The Climb: Tragic Ambitions on Everest by Anatoli Boukreev and Gary Weston DeWalt
- Tracks by Robyn Davidson
- Indica by Pranay Lal
- The Crystal Horizon: Everest – The First Solo Ascent by Reinhold Messner
- A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson
Fiction:
- Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series (favorites include Jingo, The Truth, Making Money, Going Postal—though honestly, the whole series is a treasure)
- Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series
- Timeless reads like Dick Francis’s thrillers, the Jack Reacher series by Lee Child, Enid Blyton’s adventures, Alistair MacLean’s action-packed tales, and gripping espionage from Robert Ludlum and Colin Forbes
Comics / Cartoons:
- Asterix, Tintin, Bahadur, Panchatantra
- Calvin and Hobbes
- R.K Laxman’s works
- Some New-age graphic novels are great too; it’s an ever-growing list!
Terry Pratchett, in particular, deserves a shoutout. His writing is irreverent, pointed, and absolutely brilliant—I aspire to write with even a fraction of his wit. If you have not read him yet, you are in for a treat.
Q. IIFM is driven by alumni’s passion and commitments towards its goal. How would you like to contribute to IIFM or IIFM alumni, students? Your engagement with IIFM Placement or OT/SI?
A. The Alumni Commitment
I am not very active on traditional social media, so my contributions tend to be behind-the-scenes. People usually know me only if they have had the chance to interact with me directly (or if they’ve heard someone mumbling about rogue yaks, honeyguides, and flying squirrels). Last January, I was delighted to visit IIFM and delivered two presentations, sharing some of the more… ummm …..interesting highlights of my journey since IIFM. Hopefully, they found it worth the class they missed—or, worse, the chai break they forsook.
For a while, I was quite involved in efforts to bring alumni together on a single platform (groups.io). That experience connected me to some wonderfully active alumni, and while my role has now dialed down, I am thrilled to see how the alumni presence has grown into a bright flame, with alumni becoming increasingly engaged and visible. It is a privilege to witness the community thriving.
Even now, I try to pitch in when required—though perhaps not as often as I should. Life, as it turns out, has its fair share of distractions.
In terms of internships or mentoring, I have been supporting a small group in rural Kumaon, channeling a good portion of my earnings into their growth. I would love to offer internships, but here’s the catch: IIFM students often come with high expectations—probably imagining coffee machines, plush offices, and resources galore. Let me clarify—my “office” is often a forest floor, and the coffee is actually tea that comes from a thermos, (hee hee sometimes it is cooked live off a wood fire), not a café. I am a bit nervous about whether my setup would match their expectations, but I would welcome anyone who doesn’t mind a little snowy mud on their boots and a lot of fieldwork reality.
Q. What do you think is different at IIFM now vs when you studied there? When was the last time you visited IIFM?
A. When I visited IIFM just over a year ago, I had the privilege of spending time with some faculty, like Advait Edgaonkar, and with Director Ravichandran (or Anna, as we affectionately call him). I noticed a fair bit of change, particularly in terms of infrastructure. The campus now boasts higher-tech classrooms, a gym, better sports facilities, and improved internet access. The library, on the other hand, seems stuck in time—or perhaps it’s just had too many students pass through its doors. One might say it’s still “charming,” but let’s just say it could use a bit of TLC.
Food-wise, things are looking up, with the rise of the gig economy adding more options. Still, the mess seems to remain a hub of social activity.
And then there are the buildings. Many new structures have appeared, but I hope the administration remembers that it’s the unique architectural design that gives IIFM its character. I still remember the cool breeze that used to flow through the sloping corridors of the original building—something that Vineet and I swore would bring us back ( or cry trying).
As for the new auditorium, I am excited to see it in full swing. With the awesome talent of IIFM alumni, it could host a series of enriching talks and events—provided it is not overrun with unrelated external gigs. IIFM has more than enough to offer, and the alumni network could step up to make the most of this space.
Looking ahead, I understand there are big plans for expanding courses and increasing the number of students in each batch and even the new campus in the North-East. While growth is important, I do wonder about the personal touch that smaller batches had—will students still receive the same attention and opportunities? The concept of scholarships seems to have faded, which raises the question: are we at risk of missing out on future gems simply because they can’t afford the tuition? In my own work this is something I am working on actively, trying to provide support for people who deserve stress-free opportunities that might otherwise be out of reach.
My interactions with current faculty have been limited, but I do know Advait and a few other active and engaging faculty members are still around. I hope they get the support they need to deliver a truly transformative experience for students.
Rishi and I took a walk around the campus, and I couldn’t help but marvel at how some of the young trees we had once seen as mere striplings (and some that we planted) are now grand individuals. However, a fruiting Ber (Zizyphus jujuba) draping itself all over the roads has gone completely ignored—no Swiggy delivery from it, alas. One must trudge to the tree and pluck the fruit as nature intended.
The iconic tower remains as iconic as ever, though I did miss seeing the rock bee hives on it. (Perhaps Kunal Sharma should be asked to investigate—he spent a good chunk of his career working on and writing about Apis dorsata. Maybe one of the IIFM rock bees gave him a tender sting, and that’s where the bee in his bonnet began!”)
Institutionally, I hope IIFM continues to grow as an independent academic and research entity, recognized not only for its contributions to higher education but also for producing highly skilled, uniquely qualified professionals. As the institution expands, it is crucial to bolster its framework to ensure the continued upholding of autonomy, academic freedom, and financial security. Recruitment efforts should focus on diversity and inclusion, fostering an environment that nurtures varied perspectives and backgrounds.
I hope IIFM continues to steer its graduates toward non-financial sectors, like community forestry and climate change—areas where their impact can be profound. Finally, I would also love to see more educators who have emerged from IIFM return to share their wisdom and create lasting connections that enrich the institution even further.
Q. Any suggestions on who you want to get profiled/interviewed here?
A. Some of the folks I have in mind have already been profiled, but lets anyway give them another shout-out!
a. All alumni from the first four batches — they paved the way for the rest of us to follow. Each one ventured into an uncertain world and an indeterminate future. Without their trailblazing (like, even joining the PFM course), life would have been much tougher for the rest of us. I have to mention my immediate seniors (PFM 91-93), especially Atul Misra and Neeraj Boss. These two helped me survive at NTGCF and basically rescued me from institutional shenanigans I didn’t even know existed. Nikesh Sinha, Varun Singh, Vinu Mammen, and Vanita Suneja also deserve a mention — wish I had stayed in touch!
b. As for my classmates once again all (obviously!), I would especially like to spotlight the women (Ratna, Rekha, Kavita, Manika, and Varsha, who’s already been profiled). They were equal partners in the many escapades and also masterminded their own mischief. Many of them have gone on to live amazing lives, and it’s high time they share their rollercoaster ride of trials, tribulations, and successes. Rajesh Gupta too, while Kanchan Ghoshal (just profiled) , who once got injured (thanks to me), is one of those people. I hope he forgives me… ( “inner voice – saale dhyan dena chahiye tha naa”)
c. From my juniors (PFM 93-95) – Meera Iyer, Prashanth V. Reddy, Preeti Rao (already profiled), Rajesh Ranjeet Tete, Harish Iyer (who has visited me in Munsiari more than anyone else), Vandana Singh, and J Ravindra Kumar (another one who can blame me for some physical suffering, sorry dost!).
d. PFM 94-96: Seema Joshi, Biswadeep Ghosh (BG), Mamta Vardhan (already profiled), Rohit Jindal (already profiled), and Vikas Nath. Vikas once took me to see a possible leopard’s den on an IIFM visit — unforgettable.
e. PFM 95-97: Shailesh Nagar (already profiled) — later a colleague, and we even collaborated on an assignment in Pangi (Himachal Pradesh). It’s allegedly home to the most dangerous motorable road, but Shailesh and I were like, “Myah… Theek hai.”
f. Rishi Prakash (2007) — singlehandedly responsible for keeping me connected with IIFM (thanks, yaar!). Padmavati Tayaru Madipalli (PFM 2011) is out there living her best life, doing everything she ever wanted — wow. And, of course, Kunal Sharma, whose batch I am unsure of, but we have interacted quite a bit, especially during the recently concluded 2024 Azim Premji University Mountains of Life festival.
Postscript
If I have forgotten to mention anyone, please don’t take it personally—it is entirely the fault of the hurried scribbling rather than any sinister plot to erase you from my memory. Also, let me clarify: this isn’t peer-reviewed. None of my mischievous classmates, revered seniors, or esteemed juniors have had the pleasure of vetting it for errors, omissions, or, indeed, outrageous embellishments. Any mistakes herein are my own, a testament to my flawed humanity—or possibly the work of an impish deity with a sense of humor. I humbly ask for your indulgence (and perhaps a kind word or two).
May 2023 (Maheskhan Uttarakhand) at the launch of a book titled Bird Tales from the Himalayas, Ajay Sharma (mustard shirt in the centre ) and his daughter, Tanvi (to his left – facing) were part of this event.