I’ll be honest. I’m not an expert on the environment. I can’t plant a tree to save my life (or the planet). I can’t tell you why you shouldn’t endanger a species that is clearly labelled ‘endangered species’. I mean, if a basket is labelled “dust bin’, wouldn’t you use it as a dust bin?

I am also no defence expert. I can’t tell you how India can defend its enlarged military installations on Nicobar against China’s DF-17 hypersonic missiles. But here’s the thing: I don’t need any expertise to defend the project. The intellectual prowess of a sea sponge is enough to conclude that Rahul — no matter what he says, and even before he says it — is wrong.

For instance, Rahul keeps repeating that the whole island is being gifted to a ‘dani’. I don’t know who or what a ‘dani’ is. But I’m certain it couldn’t be worse than handing over the Indian Ocean to China, which will certainly happen if we don’t cut down 1 crore trees on Nicobar.

Checkmate China

I don’t know if there is any truth to the allegation — coming from highly placed (WhatsApp) sources — that Rahul is a Chinese agent. I also don’t know, and don’t care, how much of Indian territory China grabbed in 2020. Don’t ask me where our maritime power projection was hiding when America sank a visiting frigate in the Indian Ocean — an ocean named after your and my citizenship (until the NRC).

But I know India’s strategic national interest when I see it, and I’ve no doubt destroying 130 sq. km. of our most pristine tropical rainforest is the best option for India to checkmate China. It will discipline China by establishing our dominance over the Strait of Sundakka — a maritime chokepoint through which 89.99% of Chinese imports transit.

Incidentally, I was in Jingjangjung last week for a two-day conference on the Indian Ocean. I could see Chinese officials literally quaking in their boots the moment I said ‘Nicobar’. They began pleading with me to sway the Indian public opinion against this project.

On the first day itself, during the buffet lunch, while I was busy hunting for Gobi Manchurian, a Chinese agent — an authentic Chinese Chinese agent, not Indian Chinese agent like Rahul — cornered me.

“Can you do me a small favour?” he asked.

“I might,” I said. “If you withdraw Chinese troops in Galwan to status quo ante, do katti with Pakistan, and make Hindi a compulsory subject in Chinese board till Class XII.”

“What is Chinese board?”

“Forget it,” I said. “What do you want?”

“We Chinese are terrified of India controlling the Strait of Vaalakka,” he said.

“You mean the Strait of Sundakka?”

“No, Vaalakka,” he said.

“Then I have nothing more to say to you,” I said, walking away angrily.

“Wait, I’m sorry, Mr. Sampath,” he said. “We have our own names for places, you know. Like we do for your Arunachal. I have to follow it or I’ll lose my job.”

“Fine,” I said. “Be quick. Whatever you have to say.”

Environmental destruction is national sport

“The Great Nicobar Island is a massive waste of prime real-estate. We want it to stay that way. If India’s contractor-oligarch-politician nexus turns this island into a ‘natural’ aircraft carrier that doubles up as Singapore-Hong Kong, it will pose an existential threat to us.”

“You believe India will actually do it?”

“Well, we’re aware you still don’t know how to build a road that can withstand one monsoon. But we can’t take any chances. So, please write against this project, saying that it will ravage the environment, etc.”

“I can’t do that,” I said. “Even if I did, it would only strengthen public support for it.”

“Really?” The Chinese agent looked shocked.

“Absolutely,” I said. “I am appalled that, with all your surveillance technology, your intelligence is so clueless as to think that highlighting environmental costs could make Indians drop a golden opportunity to destroy their greatest environmental assets! In India, the best guarantee that a project will go through is to stipulate that it must cut millions of trees, dismantle native communities, and exterminate endemic flora and fauna. Environmental destruction is our national sport, Sirji!”

“I am Sir Lee,” he interjected. “Sir Jee has gone to the washroom.”

“Just remember,” I said. “You have your String of Pearls, so we’re building our own ‘Pearl Harbour’!”

“Okay then,” he shrugged. “Trade will solve. Indian-Chini buy-buy.”

The author of this satire is Social Affairs Editor, The Hindu.