A simple but effective message posted on the beach reflects the straightforward approach to conservation in Lakshadweep.
In Lakshadweep’s Medina Restaurant, as I dry my hands after a satisfying meal of tuna curry and rice, I find myself unexpectedly transported back to childhood. The ’tissue paper’ in my hands is actually a page from an old NCERT textbook, and there’s Akbar’s court coming apart in my fingers. For a moment, I am back in middle school, eagerly flipping through these same stories of kings and courtiers. It’s a peculiar feeling to be using these pages of ancient history to wipe away traces of daily lunch.
This creative repurposing of old textbooks is just one example of how recycling has become deeply embedded in daily life across Lakshadweep. When you are living on tiny coral islands hundreds of kilometres from the mainland, necessity truly becomes the mother of invention. With limited resources, expensive shipping costs, and critical waste management challenges, islanders have developed an impressive knack for giving objects second lives.
School children participate in an environmental awareness campaign, showing how conservation education starts early on the islands.
Walk down any island street and you will see this innovation on display. Empty bottles – mostly of spirits, despite Lakshadweep’s official status as a dry territory – dangle as decorative elements outside shops, catching sunlight and creating impromptu art installations. The sight invariably triggers mixed emotions: for mainlanders, perhaps memories of convivial evenings with friends; for locals, a reminder of prohibited pleasures. Yet beyond these conflicting feelings lies an important truth: every bottle repurposed is one less piece of waste threatening these fragile islands.
A banner announces a beach cleanup campaign as part of the “Plastic Free Lakshadweep” initiative, highlighting community efforts to tackle waste management.
The need for such resourcefulness cannot be overstated. Lakshadweep’s waste management challenges are unique and daunting. With some islands barely two square kilometers in area, there’s precious little space for landfills. The coral foundation makes burial of waste impossible. The surrounding pristine waters – the islands’ greatest natural asset – must be protected at all costs. Meanwhile, shipping waste back to mainland processing facilities is both expensive and logistically complex.
A colourful mural on a school wall promotes hygiene awareness through art, demonstrating how even public messaging gets creative treatment in Lakshadweep.
In this context, the islanders’ dedication to recycling isn’t just admirable, it’s essential. Every textbook page that becomes a tissue, every bottle transformed into decoration, represents one less item in the waste stream. What might seem quaint or nostalgic to visitors is actually a crucial adaptation to island life’s constraints.
Scuba divers hold up a sign promoting ocean conservation underwater, symbolizing how environmental consciousness in Lakshadweep extends from land to sea. (PC: MOEF, PIB)
Sometimes, these recycling practices do tug at the heartstrings. Watching familiar textbook pages, filled with stories that once captured young imaginations, being torn apart for mundane use can feel almost sacrilegious. But there’s also beauty in this circle of utility: educational materials that once nourished minds now serve a different but equally necessary purpose.
This balance between sentiment and practicality reflects a larger truth about life in Lakshadweep. On these remote islands, sustainability isn’t a trendy choice but a survival imperative. While mainland India is still working to make recycling a habit, here it has long been woven into the fabric of daily life. Recent initiatives to reduce plastic usage and proper waste disposal are welcome additions to this existing culture of conservation. There’s also a lot to be said about how these islanders have been reusing and repurposing the gifts of nature around them for centuries, be it coconut leaves, coral rubble or discarded shells.
A distinctive red and green signboard from the Ministry of Environment & Forests promoting waste segregation stands alongside a blue collection bin – a common sight across Lakshadweep today. The colour scheme is purposeful: red signalling the dangers of improper waste disposal, while green represents environmental prosperity. (PC: Swachh Bharat Mission (Grameen))
As I leave the restaurant, another repurposed textbook page in hand, I remind myself what truly matters. Yes, these creative recycling practices might occasionally stir bittersweet memories or surprising emotions. But they represent something far more important: a community’s commitment to preserving their island home for future generations. In Lakshadweep’s case, necessity hasn’t just mothered invention. It has nurtured wisdom.
After all, when you live on islands that are mostly just two meters above sea level, every small act of environmental consciousness counts. If that means history textbooks become tissue paper and prohibition-defying bottles become art, so be it. The future of these islands depends not on preserving the past, but on protecting what lies ahead.