On Sunday at 8:58 AM, after a brief illness, my dear friend, my elder brother, and the green conscience of Jammu & Kashmir, G.H. Kango breathed his last. A voice that spoke for the forests has fallen silent. A pair of hands that planted lakhs of saplings has gone still.He taught us a new language. In an era of “yield” and “extraction”, he spoke of “ecology”, “biodiversity”, and “watershed”. He told us, _“If the forest dies, the river will cry. If the river cries, the farmer will weep. And if the farmer weeps, the nation will go hungry.”

He walked where no senior officer would. From the icy slopes of Gurez to the saffron fields of Pampore, from the dense woods of Bhaderwah to the wetlands of Wular — he went not in a convoy, but with a forester’s heart. He would bend down, touch a sapling, and ask the guard, “Beta, is it drinking water? Is it growing?”

For him, every........

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