Defining the Indefinable: The Supreme Court's Quest to Shield the Aravalli Hills

There's something profoundly unsettling, isn't there, about the idea that a vast, ancient mountain range, a literal backbone across several states, could lack a clear identity? And yet, here we are. The Aravalli Hills, those stoic sentinels stretching from Gujarat right up to Delhi, find themselves caught in just such a perplexing legal — and honestly, existential — quandary. It's a predicament that, for too long, has allowed environmental degradation to creep in, almost unnoticed by the very statutes meant to protect these invaluable landscapes.

You see, the core issue, as highlighted recently by none other than Chief Justice D.Y. Chandrachud himself, isn't merely about political will or even blatant disregard, though those are certainly factors. It’s far more fundamental: a glaring absence of a uniform, agreed-upon definition of what actually constitutes the Aravalli Range across all the states it touches. Imagine, if you will, trying to draw a clear boundary around something when each stakeholder uses a slightly different map. It becomes, quite literally, a boundary dispute of epic ecological proportions.

The Chief Justice, presiding over a bench wrestling with these very concerns, didn't mince words. He stressed — and rightly so, one could argue — that without a shared, unambiguous definition, efforts to protect these hills will continue to be, well, rather like trying to fill a sieve. Each state, perhaps with its own perfectly valid but ultimately divergent understanding of "Aravalli," ends up creating loopholes. It’s a piecemeal approach to a monolithic problem, and frankly, it just doesn’t work when you’re talking about an ecosystem that doesn't respect administrative borders.

This isn't a new concern, by any stretch. The Supreme Court has, on multiple occasions over the years, underscored the critical need to safeguard the Aravallis. They’ve even issued directives for the identification and protection of these ranges. But, as we're learning, identifying something without a common dictionary entry for it makes that task, shall we say, a bit tricky. One state might define a 'hill' by elevation, another by geological composition, yet another by specific land use. And then what? The very spirit of conservation, you see, gets lost in translation.

Consider the tangible consequences: unchecked quarrying, illegal mining, and rampant encroachment. These aren't abstract threats; they’re very real, very physical wounds inflicted daily upon these ancient formations. Without that single, definitive understanding, what falls outside one state’s definition might suddenly become fair game for exploitation, even if it's undeniably part of the same geological marvel just across the border. It's a bureaucratic blind spot that translates into environmental devastation.

So, the CJI’s insistence isn't just legalistic nitpicking; it's a profound call for practical unity. It’s an acknowledgment that effective environmental governance, particularly for such interconnected natural assets, demands a coherent, collaborative framework. The question then becomes: can the various states, with their diverse interests and administrative priorities, truly come together and agree on a singular identity for a shared natural heritage? It's a challenge, yes, but for the sake of the Aravallis, it's one we absolutely must overcome.