A Battle for the Environment

Oxygen Manifesto

“OM” — a mystic syllable considered sacred across Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism — is the spiritual sound linking the soul (Atman) to ultimate reality (Brahman). Pronounced “Aum,” it weaves together inner energy, wisdom, and focus through meditation. Oxygen Manifesto (OM) draws on that same idea, weaving the Atman of Mother Earth together with the Brahman of our own existence, as reflected in our actions. The book places a sharp focus on the beauty of the natural world and the urgent need to conserve it.

Oxygen Manifesto – A Battle for the Environment, written by Atulya Misra, is his debut book. It’s a work of fiction that weaves environmental realities together with the political and media systems that shape them. Across 195 pages, the book makes a compelling case for why protecting and restoring nature has become an urgent necessity — and it does so through a purely narrative structure. Though Ravi Chandra Bose is the protagonist, the story unfolds around both him and a man known as Thatha. It's an engaging read that strikes a careful balance between storytelling and its message on environmental degradation, delivering both in just the right measure. OM is genuine food for thought, with every element in near-perfect equilibrium.

The book opens with the author, in the autumn years of a career in the Indian Police Service, spending a fortnight's break in the pristine, densely forested Andaman Islands. Based in Port Blair, he fills his days with snorkelling, fishing, sailing, trekking, and camping. During a visit to a village, he meets a man near his own age teaching local children — a man who turns out to be Ravi Chandran Bose. Curiously, no one, not even the local police, seems to know how Ravi came to be there. Intrigued, the author decides to investigate Ravi's life story, and a publishing house agrees to fund the project. This is how the book's opening chapter, "In Search of Bose," comes to be — and with it, the story truly begins.

The author's first stop is Thatha — a man of simple, unassuming appearance and few words. Dying at the time of their meeting, Thatha was the eighth child in his family, surrounded by nieces and nephews. Though his parents died before he reached adulthood, the presence of his large extended family kept loneliness at bay. He lived with them in a remote village in Moreh, near Manipur, home to a community of Tamil-speaking settlers whose ancestors had come from Thoothukudi, a coastal district in Tamil Nadu. Thatha's entire world fit into a small trunk he could carry on his bicycle — a few clothes, some books, utensils, and basic provisions. Yet he was a genuinely charismatic figure: fluent in twenty hill dialects, and able to read and write in Hindi, Assamese, and Bengali.

Thatha is properly introduced in the second chapter, "Thatha – The Odd Man of Moreh," which also examines both the hope and the pain that came with India's independence. The pain, as it turns out, ran deeper than expected — the struggle for freedom was matched, if not exceeded, by the trauma of the partition and division that followed. Political corruption soon took root, exploiting these divisions to build vote banks and turning politics into the country's biggest industry. Hypocrisy grew alongside it, as natural resources were increasingly cornered by the powerful. Like many Indian states, Manipur too began to change in the name of modernization — buildings multiplied, along with cars, noise, and crowds, gradually turning the region into a concrete jungle. Green spaces shrank. Flowers stopped blooming. Birds other than crows disappeared, and monkeys and rabbits were pushed out. Freshwater grew scarce. Nature was already showing signs of distress — signs we might have heeded before the planet slid into the climate crisis it faces today. Too often, in our pursuit of a better, more comfortable life, we lose sight of the basic elements that sustain us — and we ignore nature without a second thought.

Toward the end of Chapter 3, the author travels to Chennai to learn more about Ravi, meeting several of his colleagues and acquaintances — including a close friend, Dr. Armugham, a former IIT Madras scientist. That connection eventually leads the author to Afghanistan, where Dr. Armugham had relocated from Chennai to assist the US Army in Kabul. The two finally meet at a Diwali party hosted at the Indian ambassador's residence — a meeting that proves invaluable, as Dr. Armugham puts the author in touch with Ravi's relatives, colleagues, and old batchmates.

From here, Ravi's character gradually comes into focus. As a boy, he once dressed up as Mahatma Gandhi for school — the same school where his mother taught. Sensitive, romantic, and easygoing by nature, Ravi came from a family of teachers. His elder sister was married to Dr. Armugham, and the family, originally from Tiruchengode, eventually settled in Salem. A graduate of Coimbatore Agriculture University, Ravi cleared the UPSC exam on his first attempt, securing an all-India rank of 14. That success marked the beginning of a very different journey. In the chapter "The Finest of the Best," we follow his probationary period — a shy but diligent young officer who took several meaningful steps to improve the lives of the poor.

Ravi was later assigned to the AGMUT cadre and posted to Jiribam in Manipur — a posting so remote that even Manipuri officers tended to avoid it. There, he learned Hindi and Manipuri from his aide, Bhim Singh, who also introduced him to the region's complex local politics and insurgency. Working out of the sub-divisional office, Ravi frequently travelled to distant villages to assess infrastructure and local needs, quickly earning a reputation as a dedicated and popular officer. In his free time, he used a telescope on his terrace to unwind — and it was during this period that he grew genuinely close to nature. Alongside a friend from the Indian Forest Service, he began trekking and occasionally camping in the jungle to observe local flora and fauna, eventually developing a real knack for identifying insects, grasses, butterflies, orchids, and flowers by both their local and scientific names.

Ravi's connection to Thatha runs deeper than mere acquaintance — the two shared a genuine friendship. Ravi played a key role in helping the author build a case study on Thatha for the Ministry of the Northeast, and would often visit the Tamil settlement for comfort and connection whenever he needed it.

To learn more about Ravi, the author sought out Rhea, who was living in Khovd at the time. He eventually found her with her partner, Devasheswh, deep in the Gobi forest. An amateur photographer, Rhea offered valuable insight into Ravi's life, including his relationship with Tara — interestingly, Ravi was often nicknamed "Rajinikanth." He met Tara, his eventual soulmate, at a Manipuri dance concert; she was, by all accounts, an exceptional listener. Chapter 12 recounts how the two first met. Throughout the book, the author weaves in local traditions and festivals — the Maram tribe's Kang-Hi festival, the traditional sport of Jallikattu, and others — adding rich cultural texture to the story.

Manipur changed Ravi profoundly, shaping him into a better version of himself. By Chapter 15, we follow him to Loktak Lake, the largest freshwater lake in Northeast India, home to unique floating phumdis that sustain local fishing communities. He also visits the Dzukou Valley, with its dwarf bamboo grasslands, wild mushrooms, lilies, and rare flowers. Troublingly, global warming poses a persistent threat to these ecosystems, forcing many local communities to "adapt to a modern way of life" — a shift that has, in turn, accelerated habitat loss and species decline. Ravi comes to realize that "safeguarding habitat is the need of the hour," and channels his efforts toward protecting both human communities and the wider natural world.

Ravi's eldest son later begins teaching yoga at a studio in Prague alongside a local friend, and yoga soon becomes something of a local phenomenon there. Travelling together in a converted caravan — something of a "laboratory on wheels" — the group teaches yoga in different towns while the author, prompted by questions like "is it necessary to steal milk from the calf?", becomes an unwitting vegan along the way. Alongside their yoga classes, they also study medicinal plants from the caravan, working toward an ambitious goal: using their savings to acquire a mountain they plan to call "Panchvati," where every medicinal plant known to humankind would be cultivated. It's a genuinely noble ambition. By this point, the author has gathered a wealth of material — "all the reminiscences, speeches, lectures, interactions, and writings of Ravi will run into thousands of pages." Throughout the narrative, Ravi's time in these naturally rich landscapes remains a constant thread driving his fight for the environment.

Chapter 23 — the book's title chapter, "The Oxygen Manifesto: A Curtain-Raiser" — covers Ravi's public announcement of his manifesto. In the context of everyday political news, especially around the 2019 elections, the word "manifesto" usually brings only one thing to mind: a political party's list of promises. Here, though, the manifesto is entirely about the environment. Oxygen Manifesto tells the story of ordinary people triumphing over entrenched power in their fight to protect nature — and beyond clean, breathable air, it speaks to something larger: the right of every living being to simply exist.

As Ravi puts it: "What was there before the idea of wealth became all-encompassing? There were space, air, water, soil, minerals, animals, and plants. There were no species which were superior or inferior." He argues that nature's balance has been thrown off by monoculture farming and forestry, and by humanity's tendency to engineer plants and animals purely to serve its own needs. His vision, he stresses, is to protect and restore natural habitats: "We want to see returning to us and our children pure air, pure water, fertile land, top soil, biological diversity, and safe food."

During the announcement, Ravi also points to housing and hunger as growing crises, driven by humanity's steady loss of basic skills — homemaking, foraging, harvesting. He notes that bottled water now costs more than petroleum, underscoring just how serious the global water crisis has become. His manifesto, he explains, aims to place habitat preservation, conservation, and restoration at the very centre of politics — and it's this vision he names the "Oxygen Manifesto." After his speech, Ravi takes a seat beside Thatha, and in time earns both national and international recognition for his environmental commitment. It's clear this was never a one-man effort, but a movement carried forward by two remarkable people together.

The chapter "Countdown to a World Sans Number" draws a striking parallel: just as machines run on a binary system of ones and zeros, humanity itself, the author suggests, was shaped by a similar binary logic — an idea that echoes the black-hole and time-travel sequences from the film Interstellar.

Air pollution has taken a heavy toll on cities everywhere. While ambient air pollution already poses serious risks to health, indoor air pollution can be even more damaging. Have you ever worn a mask to keep dust out of your lungs? If it isn't the right kind of mask, you may not realize that fine particulate matter — PM10, PM2.5, PM1 — along with volatile organic compounds (VOCs), can still find their way into your system and affect your health.

In the chapter "Masks to Hide the Ugly Truth of Air Pollution," Ravi voices real concern over environmental degradation, while declaring that his political vision will "stand on the pillars of environmental protection, democratic decentralization, direct civil action, and divinity." He also calls for real accountability — penalizing those responsible for polluting the air.

Ravi is deeply worried about the planet's future — rising CO2 levels, hotter summers, and increasingly extreme weather all weigh on him, a concern explored further in Chapter 28. Chapter 29 turns to the survival of biodiversity and the ecosystems it sustains. Every day, countless aquatic animals die because of human carelessness — the image of a turtle tangled in plastic is no exaggeration. Dumping waste into water bodies may seem like a quick fix, but it steadily disrupts entire aquatic ecosystems, and overfishing only compounds the damage. These themes come together powerfully in "A Sea of Sorrow and Oceans."

Beyond air and water pollution, the author also addresses noise pollution. In Chapter 34, "More Power to the People," the focus shifts to deepening democracy itself. Decentralized democracy emerges as a core pillar of the Oxygen Manifesto. As Ravi puts it, "Democracy is all about votes and vote banks. Decentralization is about giving voters the primary focus and position."

Ravi argues that despite decades of talk about social inclusion, governments have consistently failed to reach hundreds of poor and marginalized communities. A genuinely decentralized democracy, he believes, would build a stronger network around individuals, families, and communities — where local communities choose their own leaders, who in turn select representatives and candidates from among themselves.

Beyond outlining environmental problems, the author also makes a strong case for self-governance as a practical solution. With the right structures in place, he argues, challenges like water supply, education, housing, sanitation, electricity, hygiene, and hunger "can be shouldered by skilled, resourceful, and empowered citizens." In "Fire Without Smoke," Ravi clarifies that the Oxygen Manifesto isn't about seizing political power — it's about taking direct action, with or without it. As the saying goes, "Where there's a will, there's a way."

The idea that an idle mind invites trouble runs through Chapter 38, "To Keep Sitting Is to Start Dying," which returns to a simple but powerful image: circles versus lines. As Ravi tells his gatherings, "There would be no stage, no podium, no dais, no microphone. People will stand in egalitarian circles instead of sitting in hierarchical rows."

In the final chapter, "What More Can I Say," candidates aligned with the Oxygen Manifesto form the country's first national government under its principles — while Ravi himself quietly disappears into anonymity, as though his purpose was never to lead, but simply to show the way forward and teach the world how to fall in love with nature again.

Across 60 intricately woven chapters, the author makes a compelling case that protecting nature isn't a job for scientists alone — it's a collective responsibility we all share. Oxygen Manifesto offers a clear-eyed vision of what real climate action could look like, delivered in a form that's genuinely engaging: a story, rather than a lecture, is always the more effective way to convey a message this important. The author's commitment to raising awareness about climate change — and to proposing real, actionable solutions — is genuinely commendable. This one is well worth reading.

About the Author

Atulya Misra is a senior officer of the Indian Administrative Service, currently serving as Principal Secretary of the Revenue and Disaster Management Department for the Government of Tamil Nadu. He has previously held the role of Principal Secretary in the departments of Industries, Environment & Forests, and Transport, and has chaired several organizations, including the Chennai Port Trust, the Tamil Nadu State Pollution Control Board, Titan, and TNPL. He is an alumnus of Scindia School, Gwalior; Hindu College, University of Delhi; TERI University, Delhi; the Universities of Texas and Yale in the US; and the Institute of Development Studies, Sussex, UK. He holds a doctorate from Anna University, Chennai, for his research on carbon footprints, and has authored numerous papers for scientific journals. Oxygen Manifesto is his contribution to the cause of sustainability, dedicated to his grandfather, mentor, and role model, the late Shri Bhogilal Misra.