Following the tragic death of Rohit Basfore in the Garbhanga reserve forest, concerns mount over the safety of picnic and tourist spots around the city
The untimely death of 25-year-old Rohit Basfore, a young actor associated with the upcoming third season of The Family Man, has cast a harsh spotlight on the growing safety concerns at nature spots around Guwahati— the glaring absence of safety measures, official oversight, and public preparedness.
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Basfore went on a casual outing with friends to the Garbhanga forest area, a location increasingly frequented by city dwellers looking for an escape into nature. What was meant to be a relaxing weekend outing ended in tragedy when he allegedly stepped into a deceptively deep water body and failed to make it out alive. His friends, helpless and untrained, could do little to save him.
“None of us knew how to swim. Rohit being a tall guy went into the water but it was way too deep and there were no caution signs,” said one of the friends who accompanied him that day, speaking to the media shortly after the incident. “Although we wanted to save him, that would’ve ended in us drowning too.”
His words encapsulate the frightening reality of how innocent adventures into nature are turning fatal, often due to a combination of ignorance, thrill-seeking behaviour, and the lack of institutional responsibility.
In the past few years, the increasing pressure of urban life has driven many Guwahati residents to explore the forest fringes, hillocks, and waterfalls that surround the city. Places like Garbhanga, Tegheria, Amching Jorabat, Basistha, and Rani — all once quiet, lesser-known natural zones — have now emerged as picnic hotspots, thanks to word-of-mouth recommendations, viral social media posts, and a yearning for tranquillity away from city chaos.
Many of these areas were never intended to be tourism zones. They are ecologically sensitive patches, some even falling under reserve or protected forest categories. Their recent popularity has led to unregulated footfall, casual entry by thrill-seekers, and in some cases, unauthorised monetisation by locals.
“In Garbhanga, we’ve noticed a steady influx of visitors over the past year. Despite signage at the main check gate prohibiting entry, people find other ways in. Locals near the waterfall have set up a small committee and collect entry fees claiming to maintain cleanliness, but there’s no official backing,” said a senior forest official in conversation with GPlus.
The same official admitted that the forest department currently has no direct role in managing these spots. “We have already restricted entry in that reserve forest. Those who choose to go, that is their will. People living near the area know the terrain and can navigate it safely. But tourists often do not understand the dangers,” he added, indicating that an official entry protocol is being planned, though no timeline has been confirmed.
A walk through these nature getaways immediately reveals the administrative vacuum. Few — if any — areas have caution signs, warning boards, or depth indicators near water bodies. No life jackets, first-aid kiosks, lifeguards, or designated safe zones exist. Visitors, often inexperienced with trekking or water bodies, venture into areas where even seasoned trekkers would tread with caution.
“There is no institutional approach to ensure safety,” said a local environmentalist who has surveyed several of these locations. “The government needs to either officially designate and manage these places or put in place strong restrictions. Right now, it’s a grey zone where neither the public nor the authorities know who is responsible.”
Swimming, or the lack thereof, has become a critical issue in many of the drowning incidents. Young people, often from urban areas, are unfamiliar with the unpredictable nature of mountain streams, forest creeks, and waterfalls. Depths can vary suddenly, underwater currents can be strong, and rocks slippery.
“The current generation is not being taught to adapt to natural environments. Knowing how to swim is vital, especially if you’re heading into forested areas. But we’ve seen that many visitors are ill-equipped. They carry snacks and speakers but forget the basics like shoes with grip, ropes, or even water,” noted a senior instructor from an adventure tourism group based in Guwahati.
The issue is further complicated by the emergence of local “committees” that operate without legal sanction. In places like Garbhanga, nearby villagers have begun collecting entry fees, allegedly for area maintenance. But there is no audit or accountability for these funds. While some villagers claim the fees help keep the site clean, visitors have raised concerns about garbage, plastic waste, and even overcrowding.
“It’s confusing. You pay a fee at some makeshift entry point, thinking it's a government initiative, but later realise it's not. There should be clarity. If the authority has no role, then how are these locals allowed to run such operations?” asked a resident who recently visited Tegheria with friends.
With footfall increasing on weekends and holidays, the risk of accidents has multiplied. But emergency response mechanisms are completely missing. If someone is injured or lost, help can take hours to arrive — if at all.
What is troubling is the way authorities often shift the blame to the public. “We told people not to go, and yet they go,” is the standard response from officials. But critics argue that this passive stance absolves them of their duty to manage public lands and ensure safety, especially in areas within their jurisdiction.
“If the government cannot monitor these places, then they must clearly demarcate them as no-go zones with proper barriers. Relying on a flimsy signboard or word-of-mouth restrictions is not enough,” said a legal expert familiar with environmental and civic laws.
The lack of a coordinated approach between forest, tourism, and disaster management departments has also been highlighted as a key failure. In a city where urbanisation is encroaching upon natural landscapes, integrated planning becomes essential.
Experts suggest that rather than discouraging people from enjoying nature, a sustainable and regulated model must be developed. “Authorities must step in and identify high-risk areas. There should be a database of spots where tourists go. Based on that, safety infrastructure must be set up — basic signage, safety rails, depth markers, and trained personnel,” said the environmentalist.
Training locals to act as guides or lifeguards could not only improve safety but also provide livelihood opportunities. Collaborations with NGOs, trekking clubs, and disaster response teams could help formulate standard operating procedures.
Meanwhile, public awareness campaigns stressing the importance of swimming, first-aid knowledge, and environmental responsibility should be launched, particularly targeting the youth who are most drawn to such adventures.
Rohit Basfore’s tragic death must serve as a wake-up call, not just to the public, but to policymakers and enforcement agencies. His story is not isolated. Similar fatalities have occurred in past years — many unreported, others forgotten after a few news cycles.
Garbhanga, Tegheria, Rani, and other such spots are indeed blessed with natural beauty. But beauty must not come at the cost of lives.
Unless immediate steps are taken to formalise, regulate, and secure these areas, the next weekend outing could easily turn into another headline — one that begins with joy and ends in silence.