True forest fire management must begin not with extinguishing flames, but with understanding the people who light them

A season that burns with life

In the heart of Madhya Pradesh, the forest burns not with fury, but with routine. As winter fades across central India, thin veils of smoke begin to rise from the teak forests of the state. By March, when Mahua trees burst into bloom, the haze deepens—the fire season has arrived. Technically, it begins in November. But its real intensity peaks with the pulse of human activity. From Shahdol’s Sal forests to Malwa’s teak slopes, the pattern repeats each year. Thousands of tiny flames flicker across satellite maps, not from heat or lightning, but from human hands—matchsticks, bidis, and small fires lit for ease, not harm. A decade of data now reveals a powerful truth: fire in these forests follows people, not weather — and that’s the truth satellite data now confirms.

Reading a decade of fire across Madhya Pradesh

From 2016 to 2025, NASA’s MODIS and SNPP (VIIRS) satellites detected over 2,000 forest fires annually across western Madhya Pradesh. GIS mapping in Dewas Division showed fires forming repeating clusters near villages, roads, and non-timber forest produce (NTFP) zones, not random blazes. The season begins in November, peaks between February and April, and fades with the monsoon, mirroring Mahua, and Tendu collection cycles— evidence that forest fires move with people, not weather.

Fires that follow livelihoods

Mahua (Madhuca indica) sustains Madhya Pradesh’s tribal communities through nutrition, income, and culture. Its flowers are eaten, fermented, and sold as valuable Minor Forest Produce (MFP), supporting families during lean months and symbolising seasonal renewal in tribal life.

By each March, as Mahua trees shed their sweet flowers, villagers—mostly women and elders—burn the dry leaves beneath to ease collection. These small fires, meant for convenience, often spread into nearby forests, scorching vast areas.

Efforts were made to manage Mahua collection by distributing nylon nets through Joint Forest Management Committees (JFMCs) and under the Green India Mission. The idea was to improve flower quality and reduce burning. It worked briefly, lowering fires, but old habits soon returned. As the divisional forest officer (DFO) of South Shahdol, I saw this repeat often — proof that change starts with behaviour, not tools.

Tendu leaf (Diospyros melanoxylon) collection is another major seasonal livelihood, especially when farming or wage work is limited. Each summer, villagers gather tendu leaves for bidi making, under cooperatives managed by district unions and the Madhya Pradesh State MFP Federation.

In Dewas, one of Madhya Pradesh’s major tendu-producing districts, surface fires often ignite five to six weeks before the collection season—exactly in the forest patches where tendu leaves are later harvested. However, the situation is different in districts where tendu leaves are mainly collected from revenue or fallow lands, where such pre-season fires are far less common. When I served as DFO Dewas, field staff and JFMC members often said leaves from burnt patches are of high quality and easier to collect, while some hinted that contractors might encourage burning to improve leaf quality—though such claims were never verified.

In both Mahua and Tendu cases, the intent is not destruction but convenience. Yet the outcome—thousands of hectares burned each summer—remains the same. These livelihood-driven fires, born of necessity and habit, are now among the leading causes of forest fires in central India. Dewas is not an exception; similar patterns repeat across Madhya Pradesh, varying only in scale and setting.

Beyond livelihoods: The emotions behind fire

Not every flame is born of economic need. Some fires rise from anger, frustration, or neglect. Strict enforcement in forest offence cases—like illicit felling, encroachment, or wildlife crimes—can sometimes fuel resentment. Delays in compensation for crop loss, livestock death, or human injury, or the discontinuation of a villager’s work, deepen that feeling. At times, even a harsh exchange with forest staff can spark retaliation—and a single act of anger can consume hectares.

Some offenders use fire to erase evidence of felling or hide encroachment. Once a patch is burnt, and boundaries unmarked, it becomes hard to tell forest from farmland. Smallholders also light fires to clear weeds before collecting fuel wood.

Even carelessness adds to the toll—a tossed cigarette or a half-burnt log from a picnic near the forest can spark a blaze. In such moments, fire becomes a form of expression—a silent reflection of tension in landscapes where dialogue is scarce and understanding thinner than smoke.

A closer look: Dewas Forest Division, Madhya Pradesh

Located near Indore, the Dewas Forest Division spans about 2,000 square kilometers, nearly 29 per cent of the district’s area. Known for its teak forests and rolling landscape, it also has one of the highest villages–forest interfaces in western Madhya Pradesh, where people and forests closely overlap.

From 2016 to 2025, Dewas recorded around 9,000 forest fires, many recurring in the same patches year after year—showing that the real cause lies not in climate, but in the human footprint within and around these forests.

Kernel density analysis for forest fire in Dewas Forest Division

Kernel density analysis in GIS shows where events cluster most densely. Imagine each forest fire as a candle flame—placing heat-sensitive paper over the map reveals red-orange hotspots where many flames overlap, and cooler yellow areas where few occur.

The analysis aimed to identify where forest fires occur most often in the Dewas Forest Division. Instead of scattered points, it produced a smooth heat map showing zones of repeated fire activity. The map reveals five high-density clusters (H1–H5), closely linked to human activity during Mahua and Tendu seasons. These fires are largely livelihood-driven, not natural or climate-related—social patterns that return with each season of use.

Monthly fire trend and decadal average monthly mean temperature in Dewas Forest Division (2016-2025)

The monthly fire trend analysis was carried out to determine when forest fires occur most frequently. The chart shows distinct peaks in February, March, and April, aligning closely with the Mahua and Tendu collection seasons. In contrast, the decadal average temperature peaks later—in April and May. This clearly indicates that most fires are human induced, driven by livelihood activities rather than climate or natural forest dryness.

Fire density versus compartment mean values

The bar diagram was prepared to identify forest compartments most affected by recurring fires in Dewas Division. Of 870 compartments, around 20 fall under the very high fire zone and 170 under the high fire zone, based on mean fire density per square kilometre. Most of these compartments are close to villages, roads, or forest produce collection areas, clearly showing that fire occurrence is linked more to human activity and livelihood practices than to natural or climatic factors.

From satellites to stories

The real strength of this 10-year analysis lies in linking satellite data with field realities. Satellites detect heat, but only ground experience reveals why it burns. In Dewas, fires peak with Mahua flowering in March–April and Tendu clearing soon after—showing that what satellites record as “fire events” are human routines—predictable and purposeful.

Here, fire is not always destruction—it is often a negotiation between need and rule. A Mahua collector or a Tendu leaf collector is not an arsonist; both act out of necessity. The real issue is normalisation—fire has become part of forest life, accepted, and seldom questioned.

When we blend data with local stories, we see that India’s forest fires are social events disguised as natural ones. Managing them requires not just climate action, but community understanding and shared responsibility.

From prediction to prevention: The missing human link

Some innovative efforts have shown promise. The National Award-winning eForestFire–Himalayan Forest Fire Prediction model in Arunachal Pradesh successfully mapped hotspots by combining socio-economic, biophysical, and geophysical data, and further refining hotspots through an app-based system. Having been part of that team, I believe such a model deserves replication at regional and local levels.

The Forest Survey of India’s Van Agni Geo Portal and Madhya Pradesh’s SimplyFire Web Portal now display real-time fire alerts and have helped reduce response time and burn area. However, these tools largely address post-fire management.

What remains less explored is the ignition stage—understanding why people light fires in the first place. Technology can map heat, but only by studying behaviour, habit, livelihood pressure, and community psychology can we truly change the fire dynamics. In the end, its human behaviour, not just science, that will decide the future of our forests.

Fire as negotiation, not just management

Conventional forest fire management sees fire only as an enemy to extinguish. But in Dewas, as in many forest divisions, fire often carries a message—a silent negotiation between people and the forest.

Effective management must move from policing to partnership. This means early dialogues with Mahua collectors before the bloom, rewarding fire-free villages, and forming joint monitoring teams of local youth and forest staff. Using digital dashboards to track recurring hotspots can help align patrols and strengthen community-led prevention efforts.

Lessons for policy and practice

The experience from Dewas reflects a story seen across Madhya Pradesh—forest fires are not random, but part of people’s seasonal routines. To manage them better, we must first recognise their social roots. Fires follow livelihood calendars, not weather, and understanding this connection is the first step toward prevention.

Acting early is just as important. Pre-season hotspot maps can guide patrols, repair fire lines, and plan awareness drives in sensitive areas. We must also reward prevention, not just firefighting. Appreciating forest staff and villages that remain fire-free inspires others to follow. Fire planning should work with livelihoods, not against them. Coordination with Mahua and Tendu collectors can reduce burning while protecting incomes. Finally, data must guide daily action, not sit in reports. Using hotspot maps and monthly updates regularly can help teams act faster and turn experience into lasting prevention.

The way forward

Fire in central India is both ancient and contemporary. It once supported livelihoods by clearing land for collection; today, it threatens the very forests those livelihoods depend on. As the new fire season begins, Madhya Pradesh—and indeed India—faces the same delicate balance between forest protection and human necessity.

If we start seeing these fires not merely as hazards but as signals of human rhythm—predictable and understandable—we may finally find ways to prevent them. A decade of fire data from Dewas does more than show where the forest burned; it shows why. Each ignition reflects a choice, a need, or a relationship between people and the forest.

True fire management must begin not with extinguishing flames, but with understanding the people who light them — from the villages of Dewas to the forests of India.

Methodology Note

This study uses a decade (2016–2025) of forest fire data from NASA’s FIRMS platform (MODIS and VIIRS). Fire locations were analysed in ArcGIS Pro using Kernel Density Estimation (2 km search radius, 250 m cell size) to map fire density per square kilometer. The results were classified into five intensity categories—from very low to very high. Monthly fire frequency analysis and trend smoothing revealed peaks between February and April, aligning with Mahua and Tendu collection seasons. Together, these methods provide a spatial snapshot of how livelihood, vegetation, and accessibility shape forest fire patterns in central India.

(All maps and figures are author-generated using official open-source satellite datasets)

Pradeep Mishra is an Indian Forest Service officer serving in Madhya Pradesh. He writes on forest governance, community forestry, and environmental policy.

Views expressed are the author’s own and don’t necessarily reflect those of Down To Earth or official departmental positions