“They paved paradise and put up a parking lot…
They took all the trees and put 'em in a tree museum
And they charged the people a dollar and a half to see them”
Joni Mitchell’s song, Big Yellow Taxi, written as a warning, now plays like a prophecy.
The mountains—once sacred, serene, and untouched—are gasping for breath under the weight of concrete, traffic, and carelessness. What was once a place of solace for weary souls has become a chaotic, polluted, and overcrowded hub of so-called "tourism." The air is thick—not with the crispness of pine but with fumes from long queues of honking cars. The rivers no longer sing their carefree songs; they now carry plastic bottles, wrappers, and the reckless abandon of visitors who see the mountains as an escape, not a home that needs protecting. The mountains are crying, and their tears are the landslides swallowing roads, the forests vanishing into concrete, and the rivers choked with waste.
The Price of Progress?
In the name of progress, we have sacrificed the very essence of the mountains, trees are falling like silent martyrs. Tourism, once a quiet admiration of nature, has become an unchecked monster, devouring landscapes with the voracity of urban sprawl. Roads widen, trees fall, and yet another five-star hotel emerges, blocking the very view tourists came to see. Parking lots are replacing patches of green that once breathed life into these landscapes.
These so-called developments are not for the love of the mountains but for the greed that fuels the economy.The government, fueled by the promise of revenue, encourages this influx. The logic is simple: More tourists mean more business. But at what cost?
The hills are no longer safe from the curse of over-commercialization. Landslides are increasing, flash floods are becoming routine, and entire villages are being swallowed by nature’s wrath. Climate change, often dismissed as a distant crisis, is unfolding in real time here. The forests that once held the soil together are vanishing, leaving the land vulnerable to every monsoon’s fury.
The Mirage of Eco-Tourism
Tourism was meant to bring people closer to nature, to teach them reverence and respect. Instead, it has turned into a spectacle. Tourists come not to experience the mountains but to consume them. They litter hiking trails, play loud music in peaceful meadows, carve their names into ancient trees, and demand luxury in a place that thrives on simplicity. The mountains were never meant for malls and five-star hotels. They were never meant to be Instagram backgrounds for influencers chasing viral content.
The irony is tragic. People travel to the hills to escape city life, only to demand the very infrastructure they wished to leave behind. And the government, eager to cash in, obliges by replacing forests with resorts, lakes with amusement parks, and silence with chaos.
Travel influencers, armed with tripods and drones, descend upon these landscapes, seeking the perfect shot. They document the sunrise over once-pristine valleys, yet fail to capture the heaps of garbage left behind. Trekking routes once walked with reverence are now littered with plastic bottles, snack wrappers, and cigarette butts. Tourists, eager for a piece of the mountain’s magic, do not hesitate to carve their names into trees, as if staking a claim to a dying world.
Traffic jams, an urban plague, have now infected the high-altitude roads, with vehicles stretching for miles, their engines coughing poison into the once-pure mountain air. Towns built for a few thousand residents now bear the weight of millions, their fragile ecosystems unable to cope. And still, the government calls for more tourists, more hotels, more infrastructure—because more visitors mean more revenue, even if it comes at the cost of an irreparable ecological disaster.
The Rock Garden Controversy: A Microcosm of the Larger Problem
Recent protests in Chandigarh over the demolition of part of the Rock Garden’s outer wall and the felling of over 50 trees offer a glimpse into the ongoing struggle between development and preservation. The Rock Garden, created by the visionary Nek Chand, is a testament to the creativity of the human spirit, blending art with nature. However, the administration’s decision to demolish sections of it for road widening and parking space expansion has sparked outrage, as people realize that in our pursuit of progress, we are erasing our heritage and natural spaces.
This battle between urban development and heritage conservation isn't isolated to just Chandigarh. It’s happening across the country, particularly in the mountains. The construction of roads and parking lots, often at the expense of forests and wildlife, echoes the same sentiment of destruction in the name of progress. We are willing to sacrifice nature and history for convenience and profit. Just as the Rock Garden’s boundaries are altered to make space for roads and parking, the mountains, too, are being altered to make way for the unchecked growth of tourism.
As Chandigarh’s residents protested the loss of trees and heritage, we too must raise our voices against the growing destruction of our mountains. The government’s justification of these actions as necessary for development ignores the long-term costs—both ecological and cultural. Urban planners must understand that expanding roads, building hotels, and creating parking spaces may solve immediate problems, but they lead to the irreparable loss of something far more valuable: the essence of our natural world.
The Consequences Are Here
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Glacial Retreat: The Himalayas are losing their glaciers at an alarming rate, leading to water crises in regions dependent on their meltwater.
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Landslides & Floods: Deforestation and reckless construction have made the hills fragile, causing frequent natural disasters.
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Vanishing Wildlife: The habitat of countless species is being destroyed, pushing them toward extinction.
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Pollution & Waste: With more people come more waste—plastic, sewage, and air pollution, all choking what was once pure.
We are reaching a point where the damage might become irreversible. Soon, the mountains might only exist in the nostalgic stories of those who saw them before they were ruined.
What Can Be Done?
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Responsible Tourism – If you must visit, be mindful. Leave no trace. Respect the environment. Choose eco-friendly stays.
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Stricter Regulations – The government must enforce policies that protect the environment rather than exploit it. Tourism caps, strict waste management, and bans on further deforestation are non-negotiable.
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Alternative Transport Solutions – Instead of expanding roads, invest in sustainable transport—electric shuttles, ropeways, and improved public transit to reduce vehicle congestion.
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Local Empowerment – Support locals who are fighting to protect their land rather than corporations that see it as real estate.
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Reforestation & Conservation – If we cut one tree, we must plant ten. Development must work with nature, not against it.
Before It’s Too Late
The mountains, with their rivers, forests, and unspoken wisdom, have been here for centuries. But they are vanishing before our eyes, sacrificed in the name of unchecked tourism and greed. If we don’t act now, there will be nothing left to save.
As the song reminds us, “Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you got 'til it’s gone?” The mountains are not invincible. We have to protect them before they disappear forever.
Not everything has to be turned into a parking lot.
With inputs from agencies
Image Source: Multiple agencies
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*Views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect Vygr’s views.
