The Lepchas dwelling in the heart of the Dzongu reserve in Sikkim faced their darkest fears head-on recently. The early hours of October 5, 2023, unveiled a chilling reality—a customary climate change-induced tempest. Following a cloud burst and, perhaps, a seismic nudge the day before, the serene expanse of Lhonak Lake, nestled beneath a melting glacier of the Khangchendzonga range, unleashed its pent-up might. The breach sent forth a torrential cascade of water and boulders, transforming the Teesta River into a ferocious force, obliterating the sole two bridges that linked Dzongu to the rest of the world.
The most recent Glacial Lake Outburst Flood (GLOF) in the Himalayas not only devastated the region but also obliterated Sikkim’s emblem of ambition and imprudence – the 60-meter-high rock-filled concrete dam of the 1200-MW Teesta-III hydel project near Chungthang village. This calamity caused extensive damage to several downstream dams, wiping out numerous bridges, houses, and camps, resulting in the tragic loss of 56 lives, with 100 individuals still unaccounted for.
Two decades ago, in 2003, the Lepcha community, united as the Affected Citizens of Teesta (ACT), forewarned the impending disaster that unfolded recently. They vehemently opposed the ambitious hydroelectric projects proposed by the Sikkim government, aimed at harnessing the power of the Teesta River and constructing dams on their revered land.
The elders of the Lepcha tribe eloquently spoke about the ecological repercussions of tampering with Khangchendzonga and the spiritual entities dwelling within its creatures and landscapes. Despite their protests, the authorities quelled their dissent, and tragically, their prescient warnings fell on deaf ears.
The financial repercussions of the recent Himalayan tsunami are anticipated to reach into the billions of dollars, judging by the extensive damage to critical infrastructure such as dams, bridges, roads, residences, vehicles, farms, and businesses, as reported.
Yet, amidst the tangible losses and damages lies a realm of immeasurable consequences known as non-economic loss and damage (NELD). This encompasses the profound impact on lives and livelihoods, the deterioration of land, cultural heritage, indigenous wisdom, societal and cultural identity, biodiversity, and the crucial ecosystem services vital for the sustenance and social progress of local communities.
Residing on the Teesta River banks beneath the imposing Khangchendzonga mountain, and flanked by the Lhonak and Shako Cho glacial lakes, the Lepchas of Dzongu boast the longest-standing and most profound connection with these natural wonders compared to any other group. Throughout every phase of their lives, the mountain, the forests, the river, the trees, and all living beings are not just referenced but also worshipped and held in deep reverence by the community.
According to the Lepcha narrative of origin, the inaugural Lepcha pair, Tukbothing and Nazong Nyu, were intricately shaped from the pristine snow of Khangchendzonga (Kingchumzaongboo Chyoo) by Itbu Mu, the creator. Self-identifying as ‘Mutanchi Rong Kup Rum Kup,’ which translates to ‘Mother’s Loved Ones, Children of Snowy Peaks, Children of God,’ the Lepchas encapsulate their deep connection with the divine and their mountainous homeland.
Dzongu, for the Lepchas, is synonymous with Mayel Lyang – the concealed paradise. In their words, it’s a realm where the grandest tree remains untouched, the mightiest deer eludes hunting, and wild orchids whimsically bloom atop trees, casting pink and purple bursts across the sky. Within Mayel Lyang, the Lepchas, devoted to nature worship, incorporate every leaf, blade of grass, all creatures, and the heavenly waters, rivers, and lakes into their prayers.
For the Lepchas, each biophysical element – be it trees, glaciers, streams, or rock formations – holds profound spiritual and revered importance. Quantifying the loss and harm to the heart of ecological and sacred spaces for communities that have played a minimal role in the climate crisis poses a challenging conundrum.
During the COP27 UN climate conference in Egypt in November 2022, global leaders made the decision to create a Loss and Damage Fund aimed at addressing the detrimental effects of climate change, particularly on developing nations. As the world prepares for COP28 in 2023, the members of the Loss and Damage Transitional Committee, spanning multiple countries, are convening to formulate and present a well-structured and sufficiently funded design for the new Fund. Both economic and non-economic loss and damage are under consideration, although deliberations on the latter face challenges due to the absence of consensus on defining and evaluating NELD.
Precision in measuring every form of NELD proves exceptionally challenging, given the diverse ways in which humans attribute value to various aspects. Nevertheless, it remains crucial that evaluations of Loss and Damage encompass the non-economic facets. Neglecting this consideration could distort our comprehension of the impacts of climate change, undermine and sideline certain experiences, and skew the course of future decision-making.
The significance of cultural heritage lies in its role in shaping communities, fostering social cohesion, promoting well-being and mental health, elucidating the past and influencing present-day politics, and bolstering sustainable economic development. It is high time we lend our attention to the voices of the Lepcha, the Limboos, the Lachenpas of Sikkim, and indigenous peoples worldwide who strive to safeguard their sacred homelands on our beleaguered planet.
(The writer can be reached at dipaknewslive@gmail.com)
