India, Jan. 12 -- In the first year of moving to Mumbai, the mangroves made a slow, unassuming but distinct claim on me. Each time I encountered them, I learnt something particular about them. First, the mangroves were part of the everyday life of this city. Often when returning on the metro to Mira Road, where I live, I could see the golden spire of the Pagoda rise up from the vast bed of the mangroves near Borivali. That was my signal that I was nearing home. The mangroves gave a sense of return, a minor welcome back at the end of the day.

The second thing I learnt was contradictory. The mangroves were threatened by that very everyday life of the city of which they were a part. Loitering on my scooter once, crossing magnificent hull-sh...