Memory is such a strange thing. Something can "live" on in your memory until your memory fades away.
2023, and you type "Amazon" into your browser. The list starts with a link to the ethically questionable e-commerce website we know too well. The rest of the results would be a variation of the same, providing a Wikipedia page, socials, and maybe an Independent news section dedicated to the keyword. And so on.
However, adding the word that makes it a complete collocation, Rainforest, makes it an entirely different story.
Fifteen years ago, on the 6th floor of an apartment in the City of Gardens, Bengaluru, in India, I had a peculiar hobby. After coming home from school, I would throw my bag one way and push the power button of the CPU. Our home computer would buzz to life, and with eager anticipation, I'd launch the browser to enter Amazon.
Lush, vibrant images of emerald green canopies spread across the entire screen, with a dark mystical river slithering through the dense Rainforest. I could almost smell the scent of dampness and earthy decay. There was a longing in the air, and I would wish I could step through the screen and be in those impenetrable woods.
It was a connection. But it hadn't come from nowhere.
My mom brought me up immersed in the natural world, even if we lived in a city. I had heard stories from her and my dad about the place they grew up in - Kerala, a coastal state along the southwestern borders of India with thick tropical rainforests stretching across the Western Ghats.
During my visits to my mother's childhood home in the small town of Vaduthala, we often walked along the winding alleys till we reached the mouth of a lagoon. My mom would reminisce, recounting how these lagoons were home to once flourishing mangrove forests.
My mom's old home was hidden away behind an overgrown wall made of hibiscus shrubs, wild creepers and jackfruit trees. To access the yard, we had to bend a few branches to form an opening. Patches of wild grass and moss crawled up to the burgundy steps of the building, whose walls were streaked with crumbling paint. The front steps had cracks formed from the fragility of the bedrock that could not win against the ground shifting - especially during the monsoons. After removing my shoes, I would always hesitantly put my feet onto one of the cracks, the earthy smell of moss lingering in my nose. I used to walk along the cracks, a tingling sensation against my skin as it branched out into the living room and the dining room. I had turned it into a personal game, seamlessly blending into the natural elements like the house.
On the other hand, my father's ancestral lands stretched across the rural village of Kizhakkambalam. My grandfather was a farmer, and his extended family cultivated many crops, including rubber plantations, nutmeg, black pepper, tapioca, jackfruit, mango and other crops. But these fields co-existed with the surrounding wilderness.
Even when I was young, I remember walking along the unpaved roads with plants stretching out from either side and the chirpings of crickets, cicadas and birds caressing my ears. The smell of newly shed snakeskin lingering in the air would envelop me with a sense of uncertainty. My cousins and I would spot tortoise eggs under logs or different kinds of beetles on the trees. We have escaped from the eyes of the adults to catch tadpoles and release them back into the wetlands. With the night descending and no streetlights, there was never a dull moment, for lights flickered in the form of fireflies scattered across the silhouettes of the wild.
These sensations would stay with me even after returning to my life in Bengaluru. So when I came across the children's book Rainforests by Will Osborne and Mary Pope Osborne at a second-hand book fair, I was awestruck.
I realised how much more vast and rich rainforests can be from my comparatively more minor experiences. Amongst the world's rainforests, they mainly explored the Amazon, the biggest tropical Rainforest - from its thriving biodiversity and materials first discovered in the rainforests to the indigenous groups who continued to live harmoniously with nature. All this information made me wonder why we were so disconnected from the wilderness in cities - when there was so much beauty and wonder in the natural world.
Thus began my entanglement with the forests. While physically travelling to and immersing myself in nearby tropical rainforests, islands, rivers and waterfalls with my family, I would always look up the Amazon rainforest when I was back home. It was special - because reading about Amazon was what made me question our disconnect.
Since the 2010s, however, the word 'Amazon' has become more known for the e-commerce platform than the Rainforest globally. Both have global significance today but in very different ways. While Amazon.com is one of the world's largest and most influential e-commerce platforms, generating billions of dollars in revenues, the Amazon rainforest still remains the largest tropical Rainforest despite high deforestation rates since 2016. It is no coincidence that the name "Amazon" is shared between the two. Amazon.com's founders chose the name for its connotations of being exotic and their plans for the company's size to reflect that of the Amazon rainforest and river.
Today, Amazon.com has reached its initial goal of selling a wide range of products and becoming a leading e-commerce company. However, the success of Amazon.com, in a way, eclipsed the existence of the Rainforest on the World Wide Web.
The trending topics you see now on Google Trends when you type Amazon rainforest are unrelated to the Rainforest itself. There was only a steady decline in the interest of the Rainforest from 2004, except for a massive spike in 2019, the Amazon fires.
While the immediate crisis of the fires in 2019 received substantial attention, the long-term challenge of preserving the Rainforest and addressing the consequences of legal and illegal deforestation is often subdued. According to the David Attenborough documentary, Breaking Boundaries, today the Amazon rainforest is at risk of going over the tipping point where it can turn from being a "planetary friend to a planetary foe".
What does this mean? Along with the ability to recycle water and generate rain, the Rainforest acts as a carbon sink, absorbing vast amounts of carbon dioxide in the air, playing a vital role in planetary stability. However, suppose the deforestation goes over 20 to 25%. In that case, a Savanna will replace the forest, releasing all the net carbon stocks into the atmosphere, which amounts to around 200 billion tonnes of carbon dioxide.
Losing the Amazon would not only impact 10% of the world's biodiversity but also the lives of 47 million people. Interestingly, the 27% of Amazon occupied by indigenous peoples' territories have the lowest deforestation rates and store nearly one-third of the region's above-ground carbon. This shows that indigenous and minority groups are truly the guardians of the environment while contributing the least to climate change.
There are parallels to being close to a tipping point or already having broken planetary boundaries worldwide. Even in my parents' hometowns, I can barely recognise the places I grew up seeing. Acres and acres of land have been bought from the people, either for development or commercialising and towns and villages have been converted into miniature cities and suburbs. Without sustainable development, the intricate ecosystems of these lands were disturbed or lost, and sometimes invasive species took over.
How can we re-prioritise topics of environmental and social justice?
Even significant connections and moments often slip our minds in our fast-paced lives. We are always onto the next trending topic online or offline, leading to a very momentary surge of interest. This constant rush can create a long-term disconnect from the environment and the people disproportionately impacted by oppressive systems.
So, how can we keep advocating for justice and liberation without being pulled down by the weight of it all?
Oftentimes, you will notice that the very communities affected by systemic injustices are the ones resiliently embracing their identities and connection to their lands and campaigning against frameworks that are harmful to us all.
In a world that tries to segment us to tighten its grip on all its resources, the most radical way of confronting them can be by allowing ourselves to reclaim joy:
Joy in pausing in the present
Joy of our existence
Joy in immersing ourselves in different communities
Joy of reconnecting with the remaining environment
Joy in taking collective action, one step at a time
Each of these deeds put together can create a significant shift.
It is about prioritising that interconnectedness between the people and the planet and keeping a lookout for the difference that it makes.
And guess what? Every effort put into safeguarding Amazon is showing results! Deforestation in the Brazilian Amazon fell by 34% in the first six months of this year compared to the same period last year, according to the Deter satellite alert system. The Brazilian environmental minister, Marina Silva, also told the Guardian that deforestation in the Brazilian Amazon fell by at least 60% in July compared to the same month last year.
Many factors contributed to this, including the people finally voting out the former far-right president Jair Bolsonaro, under whom the Amazon suffered the worst exploitation - and replacing him with Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva. Under the new administration, the government has enforced penalties on land grabbers, conducted paramilitary operations to drive out illegal miners, delineated more indigenous territories and created more conservation areas.
Celebrating milestones like these are so important as they show miracles are possible even today and we can soon aim for a future with net zero deforestation.
This movement of the people and the planet can only keep moving forward.