Kolkata Lawyer Turns Forgotten Land Into a Dragonfly Conservation Pond in the Sundarbans

It is early monsoon in the Sundarbans. A group of schoolchildren leans over the edge of a pond, their eyes wide as dragonflies skim the water’s surface, wings catching the light like shards of glass.

“Look, they’re laying eggs!” one child exclaims, pointing to the ripples. A few steps away, lawyer-turned-conservationist Mantu Hait watches in silence, smiling as the dragonflies begin breeding in India’s first dedicated dragonfly pond.

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“This is what I want,” Hait says softly. “For children to see nature not in books, but alive, right in front of them.”

The lawyer who built a forest

Though a lawyer by profession and a resident of Chetla in Kolkata, Mantu Hait is a passionate nature lover and conservationist. Spotting vacant land between Kolkata’s Majerhat and New Alipore stations — long abandoned as a garbage dump and owned by the Kolkata Port Trust — Hait took matters into his own hands. Planting trees there was technically illegal, but he went ahead guerrilla-style anyway.

Hait collected seeds from diverse sources — jamun and boxwood from Alipore Court, along with ashoka, jackfruit, mango, tamarind, guava, and others.

He scattered them across the parched land and planted saplings too. Over a one-kilometre stretch, around 25,000 trees gradually greened the area, turning Kolkata’s wasteland into a desert oasis dubbed “Mantu’s Garden” or “Chetla Forest” by admirers.

Birds, insects, and wildlife soon made it their home. Cyclone Amphan damaged many trees, but Hait continues the restoration effort.

“I realised early on,” he recalls, “that simply planting trees isn’t enough. They need protection, care, and awareness. That’s everyone’s responsibility — students, researchers, and ordinary people.”

Hait avoids government aid to remain independent but collaborates with NGOs and volunteers, spreading his idea of micro-urban afforestation — small rooftop or vacant-plot forests that collectively restore biodiversity.

From guerrilla gardener to “Aranyadev”

His guerrilla gardening earned him nicknames that sound almost mythical: Aranyadev (Forest God), Kolkata’s Green Man and Tree Man. Yet his philosophy is rooted in pragmatism.

“We were taught in school that trees give oxygen,” reflects the 51-year-old civil lawyer who practises at Alipore Judges and Sessions Court.

“But no one told us how much damage has already been done, or that big trees must be protected too. Restoration isn’t possible just by planting saplings.”

That conviction carried him far beyond guerrilla forests. Determined to make environmental learning accessible, he began acquiring land to establish Nature Study Centres across West Bengal’s varied climatic zones — from the mangrove wetlands of the Sundarbans to the saline coasts of Bakkhali, the fertile floodplains of Amta, and the dry plateau of Rarh Bengal.

So far, Hait has invested nearly Rs 75 lakhs — his entire life’s savings — into buying land and building these centres. For him, the money is not just spent; it is sown.

“I have invested my life’s savings to pay my debts to the planet,” he says, likening each plot of land to a seed planted for future generations.

Of this, around Rs 45 lakhs went into acquiring land parcels in the Sundarbans, Howrah’s Amta, and the Himalayan foothills, while another Rs 35 lakhs funded the construction of the Study Centre.

“Fifty percent of the expenses came as loans from relatives and friends,” he notes.

In Amta’s low wetlands in Howrah, five ponds cover 10 bighas (equivalent to about 14,400 sq ft, or roughly one-third of an acre). The jewel in Hait’s crown is the Sundarban Delta Cottage & Nature Study Centre at Bali Island, which spans eight bighas, including eight indigenous fish conservation ponds spread across two bighas.

Here, families, students, and researchers camp in open fields, study indigenous fish, and explore butterfly gardens. The centre integrates ecology, geography, and culture, offering lessons textbooks cannot.

And at its heart lies the dragonfly pond — a sanctuary for insects often overlooked but vital to ecological balance.

The Dragonfly Pond: A first for India

The eight-bigha pond, built with the help of zoologist Prosenjit Dawn and his students, is a pioneering experiment in ecological education. For Hait, it is more than water and reeds — it is a sanctuary where dragonflies reclaim their place in the ecosystem.

“During the lockdown period, we designed six water bodies of different sizes with microhabitats and micro-ecosystems to support different species compositions and odonata — the insect order comprising dragonflies and damselflies — communities. Finally, in August 2021, we opened them to researchers and visitors as a completely new concept in freshwater conservation,” says Dawn.

The “Shubhankar Patra Dragonfly Pond and Butterfly Garden” connects to a neighbouring butterfly haven.

Patra (78), a celebrated naturalist and ornithologist from Howrah near Kolkata, leads the “Sunday Watch” birdwatching group, chronicling urban and fringe biodiversity. He has logged some 350 bird species around the city, including rarities such as the Desert Wheatear and Isabelline Wheatear.

Today, the pond teems with over 30 dragonfly varieties — each a testament to resilience. It shelters native fish, frogs, snakes, birds, and even a family of jungle cats. Next door, a butterfly garden erupts in colour from monsoon through autumn, underscoring the fragility of interconnected ecosystems, while the campus has evolved into a prime breeding ground for natural pollinators.

Near the Sundarbans Tiger Reserve, it draws zoology and botany students and researchers, lured by its rich diversity of aquatic plants.

“Dragonflies are natural mosquito controllers and indicators of healthy water bodies,” explains Dawn, an assistant professor of zoology at Howrah’s Shyampur Siddheswari Mahavidyalaya.

He adds: “In Japan and China, people buy larvae to release in ponds. Dragonflies breed, lay eggs, and cycle naturally. But in our cities, they’re disappearing because water bodies are vanishing.”

By creating this dedicated pond, Hait and Dawn have given dragonflies a safe haven — and children a chance to witness their life cycle up close. Rather than claiming to be the first, it stands as one of India’s pioneering experiments in freshwater conservation and ecological education.

Philosophy of action

Despite his demanding law practice, Hait insists that conservation is not about endless hustle. “I’ve learned one thing,” he says with a wry smile. “Let nature be. Much gets done. Sitting in air-conditioned rooms and talking doesn’t help. Work in the field does.”

His idea of micro-urban afforestation — using rooftops, vacant plots, and small gardens to create “urban forests” — is spreading.

“Like microfinance, small forests can collectively transform biodiversity,” he explains. “Native trees bring birds, insects, and balance. Without insects, who pollinates? Not all are harmful. We must stop needless fear.”

Inspiring a movement

Hait’s efforts have sparked a ripple effect across West Bengal, drawing students, families, and NGOs to his camps, eager to launch their own guerrilla gardens or rooftop forests. There, lessons draw from real-world practice: how native trees nurture pollinators, fish breeding bolsters nutrition, and biodiversity fosters resilience.

His private Wild Corridor Nature Study Centre embodies this vision across varied habitats. It teems with life:

• 61 butterfly species

• 38 dragonflies and damselflies

• Over 500 invertebrates

• 11 crab species

• 41 spider species

• 50+ moth species

• 45 freshwater fish species

• 14 mammal species

• Eight frog species

• 19 reptile species

Each is not merely a number, but a vital thread in the balance Hait fiercely guards.

Legacy of a green man

From guerrilla forests in Kolkata to dragonfly ponds in the Sundarbans, Mantu Hait has created more than ecological spaces — he has built living classrooms where children learn to see the environment not as a subject, but as a companion. For today’s generation, he believes the Centre is more than a study space; it is a launchpad to heal the Earth and shape tomorrow.

In the hum of dragonflies over the Sundarbans pond rests his legacy: a reminder that awareness begins with wonder, and wonder begins with a single seed scattered on forgotten land.