Daripalli Ramaiah, India’s tree man, died April 12th, aged 87

In Reddipalli, a village tucked into the dry red soils of Telangana’s Khammam district, there lived a man who measured life not in years or wealth, but in saplings. By his own modest estimate, Daripalli Ramaiah planted more than ten million trees. For over six decades, he travelled—on foot, later by bicycle, and sometimes on a battered scooter—scattering seeds in every barren corner he could find. His companions were pockets full of seeds, his cargo the hope of shade, fruit, and shelter for generations he would never meet.

To most, he was not “Daripalli Ramaiah” but “Vanajeevi”—the forest-dweller—or simply “Chettu Ramaiah,” the tree man. His eccentric appearance—a green placard draped like a shawl reading Vriksho Rakshati Rakshitaha (“Protect trees, and they will protect you”)—made him an object of ridicule in earlier years. Children chased his bicycle, adults dismissed him as a crank. Yet Ramaiah, undeterred, pedaled on. A devout believer in nature as deity, he once said: “I do not believe in people who cut trees but prostrate before a stone. For me, Nature is God, and God is Nature.”

Born in 1937, he never advanced beyond Class 10 in school. But his education never truly ceased. He read everything he could about trees, memorized their uses, cultivated their lore, and preserved news clippings on afforestation like sacred texts. His home, a modest two-bedroom structure, became a shrine to greenery, its walls festooned with environmental slogans. When his mission outpaced his means, he sold his land—three acres of it—to buy seeds and saplings. He named his granddaughters after trees.

Recognition, when it came, was not what he sought, but it was richly deserved. In 2017, the Indian government awarded him the Padma Shri, one of the country’s highest civilian honors. He received honorary degrees, accolades from political leaders, and was even included in school curricula. But his true legacy was wordless: forests rising where there had been none.

If most live as though nature is infinite, Ramaiah lived as if every tree were his last act of penance. He did not just plant trees; he planted the idea that one life, lived with purpose, could shade a nation.

And perhaps it will.

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Writing obituaries

Obituaries are hard to write.

But an obituary is something many people will need to write at some point in their life. And it will often be for someone deeply loved and admired.

Capturing a person’s life in a short tribute is challenging. After all, how does one represent the joy a person has brought to others? The knowledge they’ve created and shaped? The hope they’ve instilled and the lessons they’ve left? The lives they’ve touched and the profound void that remains after they are gone?

How do you honor them with the respect they deserve without being overly sentimental? Especially when they are someone who may have had a substantial impact on your own life.

I’m certainly not professing to have all the answers or even the ability to write a good obituary. Nevertheless, here are some elements I generally try to incorporate into obituaries, an inevitable part of forming deep and enduring connections over my 25 years of running Mongabay:

🌿 Research a person’s life and achievements: Include accomplishments and personal anecdotes. Provide contextual background to present their life in a broader perspective.

🌿 Begin with a compelling introduction: Capture the essence of the individual with an intriguing fact, a notable achievement, or a poignant moment. Highlight the significance of the person’s life.

🌿 Reflect on the person’s humanity: Include both their strengths and weaknesses, triumphs and trials.

🌿 Consider structure and flow: For example, chronological or thematic.

🌿 Incorporate quotations and anecdotes: Add authenticity and a personal touch.

🌿 Reflect on impact and legacy: Highlight the enduring influence of the person and how they will be remembered.

🌿 End thoughtfully.