On December 18, 2024, our boat reached Amini Island, one of the ten inhabited islands in Lakshadweep. As I walked through the jetty, luggage in hand, trying to take in the serene beauty of the island, a man approached me with a warm smile. Sensing I wasn’t a local, he greeted me and asked where I was from.
“I’m from Kollam,” I replied, “and I’m here for a research on how climate change influences the island’s social life and connection to nature.”
His face lit up. “We should meet!” he exclaimed. “I’ll come to your room in the evening.”
True to his word, he arrived that evening and introduced himself as Hassainar. People called him by various names—BC, Bamban, and more. He shared his story with a mixture of pride and humility. He had worked under the island’s environment department as a contract worker for years, initially earning a mere ₹100 per day, passionately dedicating himself to nature conservation. However, in recent times, many employees, including him, have been laid off.
Undeterred, Hassainar opened a tea shop. While it brought him a better income, his heart remained tied to protecting the island’s fragile ecosystem. His love for Lakshadweep and his concern for climate change fueled his work.
Hassainar was no ordinary man; he was an unsung hero. From rescuing three turtles trapped in fishing nets to curbing plastic waste from invading the island, his contributions were remarkable. His knowledge of the island was unparalleled—insights about marine life, fishing seasons, tide timings, and the ecological impacts of development plans that no academic book could capture.
One unforgettable day, we went snorkeling together. Underwater, he named different fish and sea creatures, his knowledge flowing effortlessly. Amidst this beauty, it was heartbreaking to see plastic waste littering the ocean. Together, we collected as much as we could, diving repeatedly into the sea.
I spent 18 days with Hassainar on Amini Island. His stories about the island’s history and his concerns about its future left a lasting impression on me. On the day I was to leave for the next island, he shared something that touched my heart deeply.
“Do you know why I spoke to you that first day?” he asked. “It was because you mentioned the word ‘climate.’ That word made us friends.”
That moment was a revelation. I realized that for people like Hassainar, climate change isn’t just an abstract concept; it’s a lived reality. His life embodies what it means to be rooted in one’s place, to love it deeply, and to give back tirelessly.
Hassainar was my first ‘climate friend’, and one of the many unsung stewards of our degrading natural landscapes. People like him deserve to be celebrated, respected, and supported—not just with recognition but with financial stability so they can continue their invaluable work.
Even after I left Amini Island, Hassainar continues to call me, checking on my research and offering help. His encouragement fuels my passion to stay committed to this field, to work with nature, and to travel in harmony with it.
This is my story, and it’s our story. My climate friend: Hassainar BC from Lakshadweep.
Hassainar is helping a turtle trapped in a fishing net return to its home. Video Courtesy of Muhabin
