How 10000 People in Odisha Are Using Local Wisdom To Protect Farms, Forests, & the Future

“If you spot the Lanja Tara, the dry season is near.”

When Nirakar Behera was a child, he fell asleep to stories of cyclones and saltwater crocodiles. His family has lived for generations along the tidal creeks of Bhitarkanika, a mangrove-rich region on Odisha’s eastern coast where three rivers — the Baitarani, Brahmani, and Kharasrota — meet the Bay of Bengal.

“It’s the Lanja Tara you should look for,” his grandfather would say, pointing at the night sky. “If you spot it, the dry season is near.” The star he spoke of was likely Canopus. “And when Hilsa fish suddenly swarm the river,” Nirakar adds, “it means a cyclone is coming.”

Bhitarkanika, declared a wildlife sanctuary in 1975 — the year Nirakar was born — is a delicate wetland of tidal waters, mudflats, estuaries, and creeks. It is home to crocodiles, rare mangrove species, and people like Nirakar, whose lives move to its rhythms.

By the age of eight, Nirakar was already curious about every plant and bird in the forest. Today, he can identify all 96 mangrove species found here — 63 native and 33 associated — by both their regional and scientific names. Among his favourites is Hental (Phoenix paludosa), a spiky palm also called the Mangrove Date Palm.

Now in his fifties, Nirakar works as a field assistant with the Forest Department. But that title barely captures his role. He is a storyteller, a naturalist, and a bridge between science and tradition.

“It’s the mangroves that protect us from cyclones,” he tells The Better India. “They slow the wind, hold the soil, and absorb the storm’s force.”

Teaching what the forest taught him

As Nirakar grew older, his bond with Bhitarkanika only deepened. He speaks of the mangrove ecosystem not like a textbook, but like someone who has walked every creek and listened to every birdcall. He knows how tides shift, how the river smells before rain, how fish dance in certain seasons.

These are the things he shares with his neighbours and people from nearby villages. He explains why the soil is eroding, how chemical pesticides harm the land, and how unregulated prawn farming is eating away at the roots of the mangroves. There are no charts or slides — just words that make sense to the people listening.

“In 2022, I was part of the Forest Department’s mangrove reforestation initiative called ‘Mangrove Mitra’. We convinced 30 families to give up 13 acres of non-arable land near the river,” he says with quiet pride.

The families kept their land rights and received compensation. Ten species were planted — Hental, Guan, Bani, Rai, and more.

Childhood bond turns into a mission

Behind Nirakar’s love for the forest was someone who saw his spark early on — Madhusmit Pati. Founder of Nature’s Club, an organisation that has been active in Bhitarkanika since 1994, Madhusmit has spent decades helping people prepare for disasters, restore damaged forests, and find ways to earn a living without harming nature.

He took Nirakar under his wing during his school years, guiding him through tough times and fanning his curiosity about the mangroves.

“This is a vulnerable and complex ecosystem,” Madhusmit says. “Thoughtless actions in the name of conservation can backfire.”

He has seen those mistakes up close. Well-meaning efforts once led to planting non-native trees that upset the natural balance. When the National Park was declared, fences went up, cutting people off from the resources they had always relied on — honey, crabs, medicinal plants, even mangrove branches.

“Half-knowledge is worse than no knowledge,” he says firmly. “You can’t protect an ecosystem by shutting out the people who understand it best. When livelihoods vanish, people migrate, land lies abandoned, and the bond between community and forest begins to fray.”

Putting people at the centre of climate action

This belief in local wisdom lies at the heart of the ‘Socratus Foundation’, which began working in Odisha in 2020. Their idea is simple: complex problems need solutions built from the ground up — and from those living with these realities every day.

According to the foundation, voices like Nirakar’s and Madhusmit’s must lead the conversation on climate action. Strategies borrowed from the West and applied to small Indian villages, they say, rarely work.

Instead, Socratus creates spaces where science meets lived experience — in words people use every day. The focus is on conversations driven by communities themselves, not imposed from outside.

“We use the joint idea of a situated economy and a place-based approach along with Rainmatter Foundation,” Devjit Mittra, Executive Director of Socratus Foundation in India, shares with The Better India. “We look for anchors in each place — people already trusted by the community, like Nirakar or Madhusmit — and through them, we start real conversations. People begin talking about restoring ecosystems and reviving livelihoods.”

Their goal is clear: help people move from feeling powerless to feeling capable and in control. To make this vision real, Socratus created a coalition of civil society organisations active in India and Odisha. Their collaborators include:

• Sambad, a major Odia news outlet.
  
• The Bakul Foundation, a volunteer-driven movement in Odisha enabling public initiatives like free libraries and art programmes.
  
• Goonj, a humanitarian organisation working on disaster relief and rural development.
  
• SELCO Foundation, which develops decentralised renewable energy-based solutions.
  
• XIM University, Bhubaneswar, whose School of Sustainability is an academic partner for Socratus
  

A new way to talk about the weather

When Socratus began looking for a place to test its ideas, Odisha felt like the obvious choice. The state lives under the constant threat of cyclones and floods. Its landscapes — from dense forests to fragile coastlines — are among the most vulnerable to climate change.

Odisha also had a strong base to build on. It was the first Indian state to adopt a comprehensive climate action plan, with systems stretching from the grassroots to the state level.

Just as important are the people. Nearly 23 percent of Odisha’s population belongs to 64 Scheduled Tribes. Twelve out of its 30 districts are tribal-dominated, home to communities living across forests, wetlands, farmlands, and coastal belts.

To bring its philosophy to life, Socratus joined an initiative closely aligned with its vision — the Climate Panchayat programme, launched in 2024 by Sambad. Together with its collaborator, Bakul Foundation, Socratus supports the Climate Panchayat as a knowledge partner.

“The sessions bring together all the stakeholders of a locality — men, women, farmers, forest workers, youth, scientists, and even MLAs sometimes,” says Devjit. “Everyone gets a chance to share grievances, ideas, and solutions.”

The meetings are organised around Odisha’s 147 legislative constituencies — a conscious choice to match political boundaries and make it easier to track progress. The larger vision? To turn Climate Panchayat into a governance tool that can work across India.

Socratus also facilitates other gatherings, such as Gram Swabhiman (in collaboration with Goonj and Nature’s Club), where only community members come together to rebuild confidence and ownership over their resources.

Since the launch, 152 Climate Panchayats and 48 Gram Swabhiman meetings have been held. Over 10,000 citizens have participated directly, while more than two lakh people have engaged through Sambad’s print, digital, and social media. The impact is visible — insights from these conversations have already reached the Odisha Assembly, with 20 MLAs raising climate issues based on what communities shared.

One striking outcome of these efforts is the People’s Climate Atlas — a set of visual maps and datasets tracking groundwater levels, rainfall changes, and extreme weather events. Built using community surveys and satellite data, with geospatial tools provided by XIM University, the atlas helps policymakers design responses grounded in reality — not assumptions.

Meetings that bring back forests and fields

In Bhitarkanika, conversations at these meetings often circle back to the same struggles: shrinking livelihoods, saltwater creeping into farmlands, and wildlife attacks that are becoming more frequent. Erratic rainfall has pushed families to abandon paddy cultivation and fishing, turning instead to prawn farming — even though it’s illegal. But that, too, brings heartbreak, as prawn mortality wipes out their investment and leaves them in debt.

Forest access has tightened under conservation laws, cutting people off from essentials like honey, crabs, and nalia grass used for weaving baskets. For many, the choice has been stark — break the law or leave home.

That’s where these gatherings have begun to make a difference. They are not just spaces for talk; they are where local voices are shaping local action. In Kendrapara district, insights from Climate Panchayats and Gram Swabhiman sessions have sparked large-scale community plantations — not just along riverbanks, but across schoolyards, village commons, and temple grounds.

Farmers are also bringing back traditional varieties of aromatic rice — Leelavati, Basuabhoga, and Haladigundi. These grains are more than food; they are organic, resilient, and rooted in local memory.

And the ideas don’t stop at the fields. From these conversations have come plans for the future. Socratus, along with SELCO and Nature’s Club, is working to install solar-powered food processors and set up new livelihood options like puffed rice units, mushroom cultivation centres, and agarbatti-making setups. A prototype is even in the works to replace diesel and petrol boats in Bhitarkanika National Park with solar-powered ones. All of this began with people sitting together and sharing their needs — a reminder that when communities lead, solutions follow.

‘I want to help others turn their lives around’

Among those driving this change are 120 local women trained by Nature’s Club as Climate Champions under the Odisha government’s ECRICC (Enhancing Climate Resilience of India’s Coastal Communities) project. They spread awareness, share practical knowledge, and have become trusted voices in their communities.

One of them is Sabita Behera, whose life reflects both the struggles and strength of Bhitarkanika.

Sabita was just 12 when she lost her mother. With an ailing father and a younger brother to care for, she often had to beg for money to cover hospital bills in Cuttack. She married young and, like many from Odisha, migrated with her husband to Tamil Nadu to work as a daily wage labourer and repay debts.

Then came COVID — and with it, even tougher days. Long hours, meagre wages, and caring for a toddler became impossible to manage together. Sabita returned to her village near Bhitarkanika with her child while her husband stayed back to earn.

She started farming a small rented plot, doing everything herself to save money — from transplanting saplings to harvesting crops. Over time, she learnt about the damage chemical farming was causing and switched completely to organic methods.

Her persistence paid off. Sabita saved enough to lease two acres of land, where she now grows rice and vegetables. Her husband eventually returned to join her. With encouragement from her mother-in-law, she resumed her education, finished school, and now plans to go to college.

Today, at 26, Sabita is a farmer, a student, a mother — and a Climate Champion.

“I want to help others turn their lives around like I did,” she tells The Better India. Sabita now teaches villagers how to make organic fertilisers and natural pesticides using cow dung, neem leaves, and other plants — a skill that’s earned her the nickname ‘Organic Didi’. When cyclone Dana hit, she was on the frontlines of rescue work.

“We love our village. We’re so connected to this place,” she says. “The air is clean, the greenery is beautiful, and we live right next to the river — we see crocodiles all the time. We’re not scared,” she laughs.

But her biggest worry is water. “It used to rain so much more. Now it comes late, or not at all. I want to grow two crops a year, but there just isn’t enough water.”

Building hope where cyclones strike

At the Climate Panchayat and in other gatherings like Gram Swabhiman, Sabita shares space with Nirakar, Madhusmit, and many others from her community. Farmers, forest workers, elders, and young women sit side by side — studying maps, debating rainfall patterns, and asking questions about disappearing fish and unpredictable weather.

They don’t speak in policy jargon. They speak the language of experience. The data comes with memory. The dreams come with names.

A strong brick house. A second crop in a year. Enough rain at the right time. Soil that stays. Crops that grow. Children who don’t have to migrate. Trees that stand. Crocodiles in the river — wild, respected, unharmed. The mangroves — always there, holding everything together.

These aren’t hopes pinned on distant promises. They are being built, little by little, from within. In the very place where cyclones make landfall, where saltwater creeps in, and where people choose to stay, rebuild, and begin again.

They are not asking to be saved. They are saying: We live here. We know this land. And we are not giving up.