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LAKSHMIPUR, India — The women strapped their binoculars around their necks, secured their bright green saris, and boarded a motorboat to begin their weekly patrol in the Sundarbans, one of the world’s largest deltas, and an urgent case study on the effects of climate change.

As sea levels rose, eroded the levees, and the water neared their doorstep, the inhabitants of hundreds of villages in the Sundarbans – an immense web of rivers, tidal plains, small islands and vast mangrove forests that connect India and Bangladesh – found their lives. and livelihoods are at risk.

In the absence of much government support, women like Aparna Dhara have developed their own solution with the help of a nonprofit environmental protection organization: planting hundreds of thousands of additional mangrove trees to support their role as protective barriers.

“Our land and livelihood have been battered multiple times by severe hurricanes and unpredictable heavy rains,” said Ms. Dhara, 30, while discussing where to plant more trees with the other women on the boat. “The rhythm of our lives depends on the tide of the water around us, making the mangroves our lifeline.”

Their missions have a devastating background.

After Hurricane Aila hit the area in 2009, causing flooding and mudslides, Nearly 200 people died. The storm exposed the increased dangers posed by climate change to millions of people living in the low Sundarbans of thousands of square kilometers of land. Wetland stretching into the Bay of Bengal.

In the middle of the rising waters, crocodiles began to enter the villages. Irregular monsoon seasons have replaced more predictable seasons. Ajanta Dey, a Kolkata-based environmentalist, said the higher salinity in the water killed the fish “as if the whole area was squashed under the thumb.”

The damage was felt disproportionately by the most marginalized in the Sundarbans, whose population on the Indian side of the border is about 4.5 million. Many live in areas that are only reached after days of boat trips.

A few years ago, when Ms. Dey was documenting the post-hurricane wreckage, women like Ms. Dhara approached her and pointed to areas where their homes had once been. Ms. Dey suggested planting more mangroves between existing levees and open water. By 2015, more than 15,000 women had signed up for the mission, according to Ms. Dey, program director of the Nature Environment and Wildlife Society.

While everyone is welcome to participate, many men from the Sundarbans migrate to the cities to work, meaning rural women are often leading the fight against climate change.

Drawing on their deep knowledge of the Sundarbans, the women make hand-drawn maps of areas where mangroves can be planted. They nurture the seeds as saplings and then transport the young trees in baskets or boats and dig up mud flats to plant them. They then track their growth via a mobile app.

In Bayan Dhara’s village, Lakshmipur, the number of acres covered with mangroves has increased from 343 to 2,224 in the last decade. In areas with barren-looking mud flats a few years ago, cranes, gulls and herons abound in the flat round leaves of mangrove trees.

Found only in tropical and subtropical climates, mangroves are distinguished by their ability to survive in brackish water. Research showed that there are mangrove forests. an excellent way to mitigate the effects of climate changeespecially the storm surge that accompanies cyclones, reduce height and the speed of the waves. Mangroves also help reduce greenhouse gases. high carbon capture rates.

In addition to reducing the effects of flooding with their dense roots, they also help increase fishing by providing a natural habitat for crabs and other crustaceans.

Located across the picturesque Muri Ganga river, Lakshmipur is located in the southwestern part of the Sundarbans. home to tigers, lush mangrove forests and rare snakes.

Each house in the village has its own pond where people wash, do laundry and draw water to irrigate vegetable farms.

One afternoon recently, the women weaved fishing nets in the alleyways. The chicks were passing small farms filled with cauliflower and tomatoes. A brick and concrete embankment surrounds one side of the village of more than 2,500 people.

“Thousands of acres of village land have been swept into the river in the last 50 years,” said Bhaskar Mistry, a 60-year-old village councilor who was born in Lakshmipur and has witnessed hundreds of storms there.

As brackish water around them continued to occupy the village’s land, people stopped growing their staple crop, rice, because the soil is too salty.

Ms. Dhara’s mother-in-law lost her two houses, a large farm and a freshwater pond to rising waters.

Ms. Dhara, who has lived with the consequences of climate change for years, said that when it rains she cannot take a deep sleep and is afraid of what will happen next.

While many in the village share the feeling of living on the brink of a climate disaster, Ms. Dhara said it initially seemed impossible to persuade her family to join the group of women planting mangroves in 2013.

“If you work, who will cook, wash and clean the house? You are the bride of the house and you have to work inside like us,” said Ms. Dhara, when her mother-in-law yelled at her. For many other women in the Sundarbans, the story is similar.

“These women are not only extremely at risk, but they cannot even make their voices heard on how to avoid or avoid that risk,” said John Knox, former UN special rapporteur on human rights. environment.

But Ms. Dhara persisted and was able to convince her family that the trees were not only protecting the village from flooding, but were also a chance to earn additional income. Ms. Dey’s organization pays women to grow and plant mangroves and also helps them sell fish, vegetables, honey, eggs and other local items.

Women participating in the program earn an average of $430 per year, which provides meaningful support to a family in India. Income per capita about $1,900.

This type of financial incentive in environmental restoration efforts is crucial to engaging local communities, said Ms. Dey, especially women whose families would not otherwise allow them to participate.

Realizing that the villagers did not take their work seriously while wearing their casual saris, the women also demanded that they be dressed in uniforms. The women said that the official-looking green they now have both symbolizes the nature of their efforts and adds weight and credibility to their mission.

In the village of Gobardhanpur, close to the Bangladeshi border, a group of women aged 25 to 60 gathered at a mangrove nursery. Every monsoon, women plant new seeds, daring snakes, thorny bushes, and biting snails hiding deep in the mud.

However, they say, the benefits of all hard work are obvious.

As the cyclones have intensified over the past few years, everyone in the village noticed that the embankment next to the new mangrove forest was not giving way. The wall of trees slowed the incoming water and lessened its effect when it reached the embankment.

Last fall, a group of men began sneaking into the mangrove forest to harvest a type of snail embedded in mangrove roots. They were uprooting trees, and for Madhumita Bagh, who was helping to oversee the village’s mangrove efforts, it was as if someone was beating her child. She complained to the police and the men stopped coming.

“We are not giving up,” said Ms. Bagh, who teaches women in neighboring villages about the mangrove program.

Ms. Dhara said she has developed a familial love for trees.

“Mangroves are like our children,” he said. “If we don’t feed them, they will die.”

In the last few years, the local government has started giving participants public land to use as a mangrove nursery and has purchased some of the saplings from women. They, too, were impressed by their efforts.

“Women are like silent climate warriors,” said Shantanu Singha Thakur, a regional government official.