There are places along the Teesta that slowly disappear without attracting much attention. Changmari Forest is one such place. Located on the eastern bank of the Teesta downstream of the Gajoldoba Barrage, between the settlements of Newla Basti, Golabari, and Changmari, this forest has been steadily losing ground to the river for many years. During my field visit, I watched the river relentlessly cut into the forest edge, leaving large trees exposed before they finally collapsed into the current. Every season the landscape changes a little more, and what was once remembered as a much larger forest survives today only in fragments.
Yet the story of Changmari is not only one of erosion. It is also a landscape where the river sustains lives in unexpected ways. During the monsoon, enormous quantities of driftwood become trapped on the sandbars surrounding the forest. At first light, men from downstream villages, especially Basusova, begin their long journey upstream by wooden boats or thermocol rafts. After travelling for nearly four hours, they search the channels and sandbars for timber carried down by the Teesta. The work is physically demanding and often dangerous, but for many families it remains an important seasonal source of income. Some local people describe the abundance of timber with a smile, saying that there are times when the river seems to carry more wood than water.
Changmari also becomes a temporary home for fishermen. During the fishing season they set up small camps on the river’s sandbars, spending the entire night beside the water. They cook simple meals, preserve their catch with blocks of ice carried in their boats, and return downstream at sunrise. Much of the fish caught here eventually reaches the markets of Jalpaiguri, linking this remote river landscape with the everyday lives of people living far beyond its banks.
While speaking with local residents, I repeatedly heard stories about a Forest Department timber depot that once stood near Changmari before being destroyed by major floods in the late 1968s. According to community memory, countless timber logs were buried beneath river sediments after the floods. Experienced driftwood collectors believe that even today some of those massive blackened logs occasionally reappear as the Teesta scours its own riverbed. Recovering them requires remarkable skill, patience, and traditional knowledge that has been passed down through generations of river people.
One observation during this visit was particularly striking. Along this stretch, the Teesta River now flows at a noticeably higher level than many of the settlements lying behind the embankment. In several places, tube wells discharge water continuously without pumping, suggesting the influence of a highly recharged shallow aquifer connected to the elevated river. The landscape itself seems to reveal the invisible relationship between the river and the groundwater beneath it.
Many villagers believe that constructing a spur upstream of Changmari Forest could divert the river’s strongest current, reduce erosion, and help protect both the remaining forest and the embankment behind it. They see such a structure as essential for safeguarding nearby villages and farmland. At the same time, rivers as dynamic as the Teesta rarely follow predictable paths. Protecting one section of bank may encourage the river to shift its course elsewhere, transferring erosion to another vulnerable location. It is a reminder that every intervention in a braided Himalayan river demands careful scientific study alongside the knowledge and experience of the communities who have lived with the Teesta for generations.
As I left Changmari that evening, one thought remained with me. The Teesta is constantly rewriting its own geography. It takes away forests, creates new sandbars, uncovers forgotten histories buried beneath sediment, and shapes the lives of everyone who depends upon its waters. Changmari Forest is not simply a place where land is disappearing; it is a living archive where nature, memory, and human resilience continue to flow together with the river.
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