Sunday morning, despite persistent rain, citizens gathered at Aarey Milk Colony in Goregaon for the 150th consecutive week of the ‘Sunday for Aarey’ campaign, one of Mumbai’s longest-running environmental protests. The weekly protest continues to be a powerful civil movement to safeguard one of the last remaining green lungs in Mumbai’s western suburbs.
This is not just a protest. This is the voice of democracy. This is a hope for humanity. People assembling every week, standing through monsoons and heatwaves in defence of voiceless beings—birds, butterflies, reptiles, leopards, and centuries-old trees.
This movement is a reminder that development cannot come at the cost of ecological devastation, especially when such projects serve vested interests under the guise of public infrastructure.
The protestors have made their stance clear, they will not back down until the encroachment ends, Aarey is officially declared a reserved forest, and the area is permanently notified as a no-development zone.
The protest at Aarey is not an isolated effort. It echoes the struggles of forest movements across India. From Hasdeo in Chhattisgarh to Ladakh, Damaqundam, the Aravallis, and Kancha Gachibowli in Hyderabad, citizens at Aarey raise their voices in solidarity with communities fighting to protect forests threatened by human greed and the absence of a genuinely sustainable national vision.
Now in its 150th week, the ‘Sunday for Aarey’ campaign stands as a powerful testament to citizen resilience, a reflection of unwavering public commitment to an ecologically sound Mumbai. This movement draws strength not from official recognition or approval, but from a deep-rooted love for nature and a fierce determination to defend it.
But certainly, there is one section of society which could meaningfully contribute to the cause of Aarey – the self-proclaimed guardians of Marathi pride—the hooligans who assault ordinary citizens for not speaking Marathi—could redirect their rage toward something that actually matters.
Where were their mukkas, slaps and punches when tribal families in Aarey are being evicted from their ancestral lands to make way for film cities, real estate, and other profit-driven projects? When students, women, and tribal elders stood in front of those bulldozers to protect Mumbai’s lungs, where were these so-called warriors then? No vandalism for the illegal slums in Aarey that spread filth, endanger wildlife, and spark man-animal conflict.
Is Marathi asmita only skin-deep, limited to street-level bullying, or does it extend to the forests, rivers, soil, and the indigenous people who’ve lived in harmony with this land for centuries?
True Marathi pride is in the land, in its biodiversity, in the farming traditions and culture of its people, including the tribals and Adivasis.
If someone refuses to speak your language, your ego is bruised. But when someone sells off the land, the forests, and the very soul of your indigenous identity for profits, you have nothing to say? Just silence.
Is this the new India we want, where vandals are hailed as heroes, and environmentalists are branded anti-nationals? The politics of the day rewards hooliganism with bail and bravado, while peaceful citizens protesting against the destruction of Aarey were lathi-charged, thrown into jails, and slapped with non-bailable criminal charges like IPC Section 353, as if they were hardened criminals. Ordinary people—students, women, young professionals were forced to share cells with those accused of rape and murder. All for trying to save trees.
Vandalism is the language of politics that thrives on division, hatred, and communalism. Protest, on the other hand, is the language of the people, uniting citizens across faiths, languages, and backgrounds against a politics that destroys in the name of progress.
The Save Aarey movement, sustained through the quiet force of ‘Sundays for Aarey’, is proof of that unity. Here, Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Adivasis, Marathi speakers, and non-Marathi speakers stand shoulder to shoulder. Not to assert dominance, but to protect dignity.
Because our true asmita, our pride, lies not in coercing language, but in protecting the language of the land itself: the forests, the trees, the animals, the rivers, and the communities that have lived in harmony with them for generations.