Man Of The Year

A fascination for the Sahyadri led to Madhav Gadgil’s extensive knowledge of India’s ecosystems. As an ‘incurable optimist’ he is determined to see them thrive

- Cithara Paul

In his epic poem Raghuvamsa, Kalidasa conjures up an enchanting image of the Sahyadri, describing the mountain as “a comely young maiden”. A young boy in Pune read the poem many times over 15 centuries later and fell hopelessly in love with the comely young maiden. He would stand on the terrace of his house, gazing at her for hours as she, clothed in majesty, lay stretched across the horizon. The boy in love, Madhav Gadgil, was barely ten years old then.

“I fell in love with that beautiful image in my first reading itself,” said Gadgil, 77. “My love for her has only grown stronger.” It is a lasting love that has shaped his entire being.

Dressed in a wrinkled light blue Payyannur khadi kurta and dhoti, Gadgil was seated in the study of his book-filled fifth-floor apartment in Pune. Tall and slim, he had a calm demeanour, though one could sense an argumentative mind beneath his peaceful countenance.

His study table faced the Sahyadri, and a cool breeze wafted through the open windows. Numerous awards and citations lay scattered around in the room, not given much importance. A copper water jug and steel glass stood on a coffee table. On a corner table stood a statue of Bal Gangadhar Tilak, whom British colonists had called “the father of the Indian unrest”. An unframed Madhubani painting and a Picasso print hung on the walls. Tall wooden bookshelves were stacked with books of multiple genres.

The Sahyadri is better known as the Western Ghats, but Gadgil prefers the former name. “While Sahyadri evokes lots of feelings and connects you with one’s collective cultural past, Western Ghats is a plain and mundane name given by the British,” said Gadgil.