During a Meghna River workshop a few months ago, I had the incredible opportunity to learn about the people, wetlands, and wildlife of Bangladesh from Tapas Ranjan Chakraborty. His insights were so fascinating that I felt compelled to share them with the WildHub community. This piece reflects just a fraction of his remarkable background.

Tapas Ranjan Chakraborty is a renowned biodiversity conservationist and a true riverine soul of Bangladesh. With over two decades of experience, he has spent his life exploring communities, their Nature-based Solutions, and their deep connections with wildlife. He has a strong track record of policy influence and has published widely on climate action and natural resource management. His passion lies in bridging the gap between science and policy. Currently, he serves as the Senior Programme Manager of the Climate Change Programme at BRAC in Bangladesh, one of many organisations where he has made meaningful contributions over the years.

You can enjoy the conversation below!

Question: Tell us a bit about how you started your journey in nature conservation.

Tapas Ranjan: I completed my bachelor’s and master’s in Zoology, majoring in wildlife, from Jahangirnagar University. That was the beginning of my journey into wildlife conservation through academics. I also grew up in the Haor region of Brahmanbaria, surrounded by wetlands full of migratory birds. That’s where my love for birds and nature truly began.

During my thesis, I worked on elephants. My supervisor encouraged me not just to focus on their biology and ecology, but also to explore their cultural significance. So, I started searching for elephants in terracotta, saree designs, and festival ornaments. At that time, many brands used elephant motifs in jewellery during the Bengali New Year. While compiling these findings, I came across the works of Dr. Raman Sukumar on Asian Elephants. In one of his books, I read a chapter on cultural representations of elephants in old paintings and architecture. That’s when I fell in love with exploring wildlife through culture.

Later, during my MPhil at Dhaka University, I focused on human-elephant interactions, the conflicts, and the cultural ways of resolving them. I started listing human and elephant deaths due to conflicts. An interesting pattern emerged: indigenous communities were rarely attacked. I was curious why. Through discussions with my professors, I understood how indigenous knowledge helps people live safely with elephants, knowledge that others don’t always have.

I started listing human and elephant deaths due to conflicts. An interesting pattern emerged: indigenous communities were rarely attacked. I was curious why. Through discussions with my professors, I understood how indigenous knowledge helps people live safely with elephants, knowledge that others don’t always have.

I studied literature from Assam, Tripura, Sherpur, and discovered myths, stories, songs, and beliefs about elephants. I even translated Pratima Barua’s song “Hostir Konna” (Daughter of Elephant). Even after entering the professional field, this love for exploring cultural connections to wildlife has stayed with me.

Question: You have worked intensively with rural communities. How do you see the rise or fall of connectivity with such communities and wildlife?

Tapas Ranjan: If I truly say, our connection with wildlife came to a halt or dropped around the 1990s. Before that, there was a strong and healthy relationship. For example, people in rural areas could tell whether a fox was angry or calm just by hearing its howl or yelp. They could differentiate between wildcats and fishing cats. Even in urban areas like Dhaka, people lived alongside lizards and mongooses. They even knew where they had to slow down their vehicles because a mongoose might cross the road.

What I observed is that after the devastating flood of 1988, wild animals began to come closer to human settlements, and conflicts increased sharply. Around the same time, people started poultry farming as a better means of livelihood and began to believe that Bengal foxes were stealing their chickens. While working at the Bangladesh Centre for Advanced Studies (BCAS) on environmental education and biodiversity conservation, we leased a piece of land to protect village forests in Chanda Beel. After some time, someone came and complained that a fox from that village had eaten their chickens.

We sat with the community and started a campaign to raise awareness, because at that time, foxes did not prey on chickens; they mainly fed on large insects. And I still try to challenge and break these negative myths in villages to protect wildlife.

Question: Can you share more about these myths and taboos? Do these have the power to shape conservation?

Tapas Ranjan: If we talk about wildlife myths, foxes were not represented negatively; rather, they were seen as clever animals. In our children’s books, we read stories where foxes and monkeys talk to us. Kids grew up with those animals as part of their imagination and world. If we can revive that message and spirit of coexistence, wildlife protection becomes much more possible.

There were also many stories embedded within these taboos. For example, there were taboos related to the calls of nightjar birds. It was believed that their calls bring bad luck. But in contrast, birds were also accepted as pure and sacred beings. I used to work in the Haor region with the large Pallas’ Fish Eagle. I once asked someone about the benefits of this bird since it lives in the same tree for many years. He replied that the bird calls just before the morning adhan (the Islamic call to prayer), and that helps people prepare to wake up and pray.

Another example is the heron. In the paddy fields, it is not always easy to tell when a storm is coming. But when the herons start flying, farmers can sense that a storm is approaching.

Question: How were community beliefs in Haor towards wildlife?

Tapas Ranjan: In the Haor, or wetland region, the wildlife is remarkably diverse. There are several types of birds, mostly long-legged species, as well as porpoises. Communities here have a deep and long-standing connection with these animals. Fishermen consider porpoises a sign of good luck and usually do not harm them.

There used to be many otters in our country, but their population has significantly decreased, not due to hunting or killing by people, but as a result of pollution. People were also quite aware of snakes. They knew that some snakes do not bite and even believed that the Common Wolf Snake brings good luck. Even today, there are places where local people avoid going because they believe snakes live there. This belief, in turn, provides those areas with a kind of natural protection.

However, not all stories are positive. Around the 1980s, the government thought that selling frogs could be profitable. Villagers rushed to catch and sell frogs, which turned out to be a terrible policy. On the flip side, people traditionally did not disturb frogs during the autumn season, showing that cultural values often worked in favour of wildlife.

In these Haor regions, Hindu communities also show deep respect for dolphins during Ganga Puja, as dolphins are considered the vehicle of Goddess Ganga (the goddess of the river). Such spiritual and cultural associations are deeply rooted and spread throughout the wetlands.

Question: How do you see the changes in policies over these decades of your work?

Tapas Ranjan: There are policies for wildlife, but it has been taken as conservation merely as an element of the environment. The inclusion of indigenous knowledge, human–wildlife coexistence, or even the human–animal relationship is not reflected in these policies at all.

For example, there is a master plan for Haor conservation, but it is very narrowly focused on specific tree species, such as swamp forests. There are other policies that talk about using indigenous knowledge, but they fail to acknowledge that this knowledge comes directly from nature and long-standing human interaction with it.

We also lack proper research and studies. And when there is no evidence, these issues don’t get incorporated into policies. That is why, during planning, identifying and studying flagship species and keystone species is extremely important.

Question: What advice would you give to the youth to help protect wildlife?

Tapas Ranjan: Youth should specialize. For example, there are youth groups working for snakes or birds in Bangladesh. But beyond that, there should be increased interest in different species as well. It can be a mongoose, a heron, or any other lesser-known animal. Every species has a role, and protecting one often means protecting many others.

For instance, if someone saves the nesting tree of Pallas’ Fish Eagle, they are not just saving the eagle but also protecting other species that depend on that same habitat. Similarly, if someone works to conserve snails, they are also protecting waterbodies and the ecosystems connected to them.

Youth are becoming increasingly active. There is a village called ‘Bird Village’ due to its diverse bird species. This kind of collective appreciation is contributing to bird conservation in a real way. I have seen people saving ponds just for green frogs. And just by saving that one species, they are essentially conserving many others that share the same ecosystem. That is truly hopeful!