Pune: Waking up with the first light on a Sunday to observe spiders. Poetry circles gathering beneath the canopies of cluster fig trees where rivers meet. Guided walks of all kinds winding through rapidly shrinking urban green spaces. And for those who cannot make it in person, expert talks streamed late into the night, long after office hours.
In Pune, the birthplace of the Maratha Empire, environmental advocacy often follows familiar, high-stakes paths: fierce protests, a barrage of formal letters, massive people’s campaigns, and meticulously researched litigations. But interestingly, the city’s activism does not end with the shouting.
The cultural capital of Maharashtra is also home to a quieter revolution. In this movement, residents are not immediately asked to raise their voices or take the administration head-on. Instead, they are invited to pause and notice—to linger beside a riparian tree, to learn the name of a local bird, or to watch a spider painstakingly spin its web. The hope is simple: if citizens learn to care for the small things, they will naturally move to defend the big ones when the time comes.
Atharva Kulkarni, 25, is a “spidey” enthusiast with an MSc in environmental science. He used to share his passion for eight-legged creatures only with his close friends, but in 2024, he held his first public walk in association with Jeevitnadi, an environmental non-profit. “Fourteen people came. Since then, I have been conducting these walks seasonally,” Kulkarni says. “The idea is to help people understand how vital spiders are to the ecosystem and how their elimination could have a cascading effect on life on Earth.” Two years ago, Kulkarni’s dedication led him to discover an entirely new species of jumping spider on a city hill, which he named Okinawicius tekdi.
Kulkarni gushes with affection and data when speaking about his subjects. “Spiders are natural pest controllers. You won’t find common pests in their natural habitats. They are also a crucial protein source for birds and other animals, and notably, none of our Indian spiders are invasive,” he explains. “While conservation efforts usually focus on large animals or birds, it is equally important to save ‘unglamorous’ species like spiders. I’m not saying everyone has to love them like I do, but I want people to appreciate them and understand why saving green spaces is important—not just for us, but for the countless lives they host.”
This momentum is visible every weekend across Pune. Kedar Champhekar, a biodiversity expert and nature educator, conducts bird walks that aim to turn casual observers into active conservationists. “I started a bird walk at Empress Garden in 2019 to show people that the space is more than just a picnic spot,” Champhekar said. “Later, I began conducting walks on the hills for the Ecological Society. We’ve realised that people are genuinely hungry to know more about nature. Most importantly, some participants become so involved that when the time comes to send petitions or join a protest, they show up on their own. They stand up because they finally understand the stakes.”
These weekend walks have now expanded to Pimpri Chinchwad and other surrounding areas, supported by a growing network of trained volunteers. “Everyone has a day job, yet they take time out of busy schedules to help. The birding community in Pune has grown significantly, and it’s inspiring to see so many youngsters attending,” Champhekar added. “These walks are platforms to pass the baton to the next generation.”
This “soft” engagement became a vital tool after Feb 2025, when hundreds of people participated in a “Chipko march” to protest the controversial riverfront development (RFD) projects. Organisers began holding regular cultural and educational events to keep that momentum alive.
“Broadly, we have three types of programmes: cultural events and walks, tree mapping, and biodiversity mapping,” said Ajay Homkar, who works for an MNC during the week and dedicates his weekends to saving Pune’s green cover. “We have hosted musical ragas related to forests, nature poetry sessions, and mobile photography workshops. We ensure groups are kept under 25 people so we don’t disturb the flora and fauna. Many people who initially came out of curiosity are now our most active volunteers.”
For those involved, the work provides a sense of enriched purpose. “My son is a birder, and during the pandemic, we started visiting the riverbank,” Homkar recalled. “One day, I saw the trees had been numbered for felling and realised this oasis of calm would be destroyed. The more I questioned, the more I got involved. It’s the same for others: the more you know, the more you learn, and the more you want to take responsibility.”