They once dismissed her as “just a maami in a saree”. She went on to become a global authority on wetlands. The story of Jayshree Vencatesan does not begin with awards, titles, or international applause.
It begins quietly, almost tenderly, with a child sitting by a river, watching water change its mind. Long before she restored marshes or challenged governments, she learnt to read nature the way others read books. Growing up in Rajahmundry, Andhra Pradesh, Jayshree spent hours by the Godavari, sketching its shifting moods in a notebook. The river was sometimes blue, sometimes brown, sometimes bruised purple after heavy rain. Over time, she noticed patterns. When the water turned muddy, floods followed. When it ran clear, life thrived. Without knowing it, she was already training herself to observe ecosystems as living, breathing systems — not wastelands, not “unused land”, but fragile balances. That instinct, nurtured by a father who believed deeply in respecting nature and serving the country before oneself, would define her life’s work. It would also place her on a collision course with urban apathy, real estate greed, and the dangerous idea that wetlands are expendable.
The Marsh Everyone Had Written Off
In 2001, at the age of 35,
Jayshree Vencatesan stood at the edge of a nameless, stinking marshland on the outskirts of Chennai. Locals called it
kazhuveli — a Tamil word meaning “a place that drains”. Garbage lay piled high. Sewage flowed freely. Builders eyed it as future real estate. Most people saw waste. She saw life. Armed with a modest grant of Rs 32,000, Jayshree began mapping what would later become known nationwide as the
Pallikaranai Marsh. The work was slow and deeply unglamorous — field surveys, species documentation, water studies, endless paperwork. For six years, she knocked on government doors, filed petitions, challenged encroachments, and refused to accept that the marsh was beyond saving. Her persistence paid off. In 2007, 317 hectares of Pallikaranai were officially declared a Reserve Forest. Today, over 700 hectares are protected — a rare conservation victory in an expanding metropolis.
Choosing Wetlands Over Comfort
By the time she moved to Chennai, Jayshree already had the credentials to build an easy international career. She held a PhD that explored the intersection of gender and biodiversity in the Kolli Hills — research that was ahead of its time. Global opportunities beckoned. She stayed. In 2000, she co-founded Care Earth Trust with ecologist R.J. Ranjit Daniels. The early years were brutal. The organisation had one desk, one chair, and almost no funding. Daniels took the chair. Jayshree worked from the floor. Wetland conservation, she often says, is not glamorous. Despite India losing between one-third and half of its wetlands since the 1940s — and continuing to lose them at an estimated two to three percent annually — few wanted to invest in marshes that smelled bad and offered no immediate returns. “We were broke,” she has said. “It was miserable.” Still, they persisted.
How Cities Paid the Price for Ignoring Wetlands
As Chennai expanded, wetlands were filled with mud and stone to create “buildable” land. Roads, IT parks, apartment complexes — almost every major infrastructure project came at the cost of a water body. Jayshree did not mince words. She repeatedly warned that destroying wetlands would lead to both droughts and floods. Wetlands, after all, act like natural sponges. They absorb excess rain and slowly release it into the ground. Her warnings were largely ignored — until 2015. That year, relentless monsoon rains flooded Chennai, devastating homes across socio-economic lines. With wetlands fragmented or erased, water had nowhere to go except into living rooms and streets. Jayshree was among the first scientists to clearly link the disaster to the destruction of Pallikaranai and other marshes. Tragically, it took catastrophe for the city to listen.
When Conservation Finally Found Allies
Post-2015, international agencies and governments began investing in wetland restoration. Suddenly, Care Earth Trust was no longer a fringe voice. Communities approached Jayshree for guidance. Local residents began to see marshes not as mosquito-infested wastelands, but as lifelines. Restoration, however, is not quick. Jayshree often explains it as a slow courtship with nature. First, a few community members care. Then families. Then friends. Over four or five years, birds return. Spotted deer appear. The wetland breathes again. Using this model, she has helped restore 44 wetlands across Tamil Nadu — each one a quiet rebellion against urban short-sightedness.
The Ramsar Moment That Changed Everything
In 2025, global recognition finally caught up with her work. Jayshree Vencatesan became the first Indian to receive the prestigious ‘Wise Use of Wetlands’ award from the Ramsar Convention, making her one of only 12 women worldwide honoured for wetland conservation. “You can’t expect results overnight when you work in conservation,” she told Hindustan Times in an interview, reflecting the patience that has defined her career. (Quote credit: HT) The award was not just personal validation. It placed India’s disappearing wetlands firmly on the global map.
Why She Cares About Women in Science
Today, Care Earth Trust does more than restore ecosystems. It trains and employs young women, particularly from marginalised backgrounds, giving them scientific careers free from the biases that Jayshree herself encountered. She is often invited to lecture at institutions across Tamil Nadu, where she looks for women willing to challenge authority and ask uncomfortable questions. “Women should be given the strength, the capability, the power, and the backup to function to their full potential,” she has said — not as a slogan, but as lived experience.
Teaching Children to Love Their Local Nature
The Trust has also ventured into education, publishing classroom material on urban ecology. Its recent book, Be My Happy Place, encourages children to explore and understand their neighbourhood wetlands, lakes, and rivers — not as abstract concepts, but as personal spaces worth protecting. It is, in many ways, a return to Jayshree’s own childhood by the Godavari.
A Life That Proves Marshes Matter
Decades after she was told to “do something useful” instead of watching rivers, Jayshree Vencatesan has done something quietly revolutionary. She has shown that conservation is not about instant wins, glossy campaigns, or heroic poses. It is about stubborn faith, scientific rigour, and the courage to stand your ground when everyone else has already given up. Marshes, lakes, and rivers have always been her happy place. Thanks to her, they may yet remain ours too.