We began our day on Nov. 1st out in the wilderness by a water body with thin fog seeming to rise from the still water. Just behind the lake was a small hillock and from somewhere out of sight, a Grey francolin was singing away. The early winter morning brought a nip in the wind but nothing beyond tolerable. The air was fresh and almost certainly, our masks were taken off to fill our lungs with the clean air, still available as one moved away from the burgeoning city. At a distance, we could hear a sandpiper and a small blue kingfisher flew across the lake. Our destination was not the lake itself but the hillock which we were looking at. It was just about 6 in the morning and we wanted to go up the hill before the sun broke out.
Trekking up the Jalamangala fort
Vidisha told me about this location a few weeks ago and we had not found the time or the courage to brave the outdoors considering how most of our fellow Indians are oblivious to the concepts of hygiene and personal space. Finally, we managed to get Kishan to go with us too and we headed off at 430 am, picking up Kishan along the way. As soon as we picked Kishan up, he gave us a banana and it was one of the varieties which are now rare in Bangalore. It’s the ashy variety (Boodi Baale) and the pulp is dense and delicious. Reminiscing the past and catching up, we were headed to Narayanagiri, just off of Ramanagara. The hill is a monolith and adjacent to it is the Jalamangala lake which was our first stop. The Mysore road looked like an alien land. With the road widening project underway, the entire stretch has been mowed down and widened. Driving in the dark, we reached our destination in under an hour and were wondering if we should start going up in the dark itself. But then, the sun slowly started to show up over the horizon and we could see people bustling about in the villages that we passed through.
We had seen photos of the hill and it looked quaint and peaceful. We also saw accounts of how there is an off-road trail being made and that concerned us a little bit. However, when we got to the hill, we realized what it was. Ahead of us, four bikers were already there and as is typical of uncouth tourists, they were yelling and screaming for no reason. We waited for them to go so that we could drive peacefully and followed the road up the hill. The road was still being made- there was mud that was dug up and several JCBs were parked for the night. It was a badly designed road, probably engineered by a college dropout or an overenthusiastic builder. Our car went up to a point past the steep hairpin bends but at one point, the loose soil meant there was no traction and our underpowered car just gave up. In the past, I have had the experience of driving underpowered cars on steep slopes. Not in the mood to repeat that, we decided to slowly back up the car and park it in the nearest flat ground at a hairpin bend.
While all this was happening, we could see how they had destroyed the scrub forest patch that had once covered the road. Presumably, this was a footpath before and was a trekking path. The view must have been scenic. We wondered who might have come up with such great plants to strip the place of its beauty. Blaming the ruling government came easy for me but then, there were no boards or details claiming who the culprits were. The entire swath of the hill was cut and boulders, the size of a large SUV were strewn across the path. We had to walk about half a kilometer to reach the monolithic rock and we could immediately see that new steps were carved where there were none. Again, the steps had been carved with no logic or measurement. By this time, the four obnoxious men were even more so and were huffing and puffing as they ambled up the stairs. To keep their mind occupied, they and had turned on a loud, out of tune, Tamil song via a blue tooth speaker. I was particularly irked because it was November 1st and the day people of Karnataka celebrate their language and culture by playing equally out of tune songs on blaring speakers in every locality. But I heard myself say that and figured there is no point and let it pass.
Climbing the 400 odd stairs was not difficult. By the time we made it to the top, the sun was fully out and painted the landscape a dull grey yellow. As far as the eye could see, the rolling hills of granite were clothed in an ethereal haze. The brisk hike had made us hungry and we quickly polished off the food we had packed. The bird activity was almost nil on the hillock. A quaint looking temple surrounded by a few pagoda trees. We soon began to explore the hilltop and went around the contours and saw parts of the old fort wall. Evidence of people having camped, drunk, smoked, and perhaps partied was evident. We stopped occasionally to check out the plants that had sprung up, thanks to the good rainfall over the last few weeks. A pair of Hoopoe kept company by walking briskly on the rock and foraging for seeds or insects.
Scenic views and impending doom
As we got around to the temple, we saw a ghastly sight. Someone had gone about cutting off the centuries-old Euphorbia that grows almost exclusively on such hillocks. We counted at least 15 plants that lay listless on the scorching rock. The plants are hardy and grow in places of little soil and are incredibly slow. Each one must have been easily over a few hundred years old and braved several storms and rain, only to meet their match in an ax-wielding biped. The patches of grass, making waves with the gentle wind were a sight to behold. Within this grass were several grasshoppers. I had not seen them in such a long time and in general, most insects are on the decline and no one knows why.
As the day passed, we saw a few raptors take to the skies and they turned out to either be Booted eagles, Pariah kites or, a Brahminy kite. As the haze lifted, our line of vision expanded and we initially saw what looked like a large lake. Reorienting ourselves, we realized the lake we had stopped by was in another direction and when we looked carefully, it turned out to be a large expanse of the solar farm! Acres and acres of it. How much natural vegetation must have been cleared to plant these green forms of energy?
We started to head back and stopped occasionally to watch more birds and by 9 am, more people had started to turn up. Huffing and puffing, they all walked past us, making plans for camping and partying. I even overheard one asking another if the god [deity] on top was Veg or Non-Veg! By this time, the construction crew had arrived and the JCB was being used to move the SUV sized rocks and throw them off the cliff to make the embankment of a parking lot stronger. The whole affair was saddening. The place was of inherent beauty and people were at work, destroying it.
Short sight or oversight?
The approach road was blocked and I struck up a conversation with a man who looked like he was in charge. He seemed happy that we stopped by and kept coming close to us as we stepped back to keep our distance. We were masked but none of them were. He was one Mr. Venkatachala, a retired cop from a nearby village. I asked him about the road and he said it was a village panchayat effort and not a pisae from the government had been sanctioned. The project was done by their village people to get more tourists to visit the hill and enjoy the beauty. He also said they had the blessing of a retired Supreme Court judge. The temple on top was at least 400 years old he said. It is also a very powerful god, he added. I tentatively broached the subject of trees being cut to make the road, lest they take offence. But he did not. When I told him that the trees are probably older than their temple and they should not have cut it, he seemed surprised and called the JCB operator to tell him that I asked them not to cut the trees. We took some time to explain to them how these plants are unique to the rocky system and add to the beauty and they ought to retain it. He immediately went to the defensive and said that they cut down the trees only around the temple because people throw waste and break liquor bottles under the trees. “The tree squirts out milky latex and it is dangerous if it gets into the eye, if not, we would have cut them more”, he added.
“Look around, he said, we have only cleared the scrub jungle and not a single tree was harmed!”, he added. “Furthermore, I have planted many fruit trees where there was only rock and scrub around my village too,” said the proud man. We were anguished by the fact that the scrub jungle they bulldozed was the place most birds were sighted. The rare yellow-throated bulbul called the habitat it's home and it was now wiped out!
Use the slider to see how the road has come up.
As we came down to our parked car, we spotted several birds right around the disturbed patch. These included a beautiful blue-faced malkoha and a white-bellied drongo. Several dusky crag martins were flying about from a large cave and we were told that there was a family of bears in there. Occasionally, they spot a leopard too. The sun got too scorching and we decided to move on and spend the rest of the day.
The place had a lot more people and we dodged them and walked along the rock. It was strewn with broken liquor bottles, party poppers, as well as general plastic trash. The forest department had a board saying don’t litter the place but there was not a soul regulating or enforcing the rules. The villagers at the gate charge a fee for entry and that’s it. As we walked up to the base of Kutagal, we were drawn to the calls of a white-naped woodpecker in the valley. We went in search of it and after half-hour of trying to spot it, we got famished and decided to eat under the shade of an Acacia tree. As we began to eat, a pair of villagers walked up and started a conversation with us. On hearing we were birdwatchers, they seemed to be ok with us and the man began to pour out his woes of keeping the mango orchard in shape. People not doing their jobs properly was his ruse. After a brief chat, he bid farewell and moved on. We finally spotted the woodpecker and also chanced upon a pair of Yellow-throated bulbuls.
We went up the hill and found that most people had left. We had the place to ourselves and climbing gingerly onto a ledge, we decided to take a much-needed nap. Finding a rock and sleeping on it is a ritual that we do not pass up on any of our birdwatching trips and it is perhaps the most rewarding part of the trip! A few people arrived and the sounds woke us up. Right above us, a Booted eagle decided to fly in and perch on the ledge. It was an awkward angle and we could not get a good look. After an hour or so, we decided to move on. All the while, stopping to look at birds or appreciate plants. Soon, our water cans were empty and thus, decided to go back.
The last foothold of the vultures
Our next stop was Ramadevarabetta in Ramanagara. We were passing by anyway and decided to make a quick stop. The narrow road to the hill was unrecognizable. Buildings had cropped up like mushrooms. Suddenly, a large monstrosity of a road startled us. None of us recollected having seen the road there and as it was under construction, it was safe to assume that our memories were not giving way. The hill where the vultures roost was empty. It was still 4 pm and the birds must have gone off to forage. We looked around and noticed several tourists going toward the hill. We decided to stay away and moved back to take photos of the road which passed incredibly close to the vulture sanctuary. The road appeared to be a bypass section of the Bangalore-Mysore highway that is being expanded.
Use the slider to see how things have changed. The vulture sanctuary covers the Ramadevarabetta, where the famous Sholay film was shot.
After a quick stop at
a coffee shop, we decided to go to Nelligudde Kere, just off of Bidadi. There
too, the road crossed our path, just a few hundred meters from the lake. The
lake itself was full and the bund was filled with tourists from Bangalore.
After a brief stop to look for birds, we decided to head back, lest the traffic
should go crazy.
On the road of no return?
Back on to the road, we began to wonder what would happen to all these places that we visited. These places are not formally protected. The myopic view of development would imply that there is a lot more impending change in the area. The small road to Nelligudde kere, for example, is lined with hundreds of old ficus trees. This would become an arterial road and be widened sooner rather than later. The trees would be gone. I remember Mysore road being a single lane and lined with trees. Today, it’s a six-lane monstrosity. An engineering feat no doubt, but devoid of any ecological sense.
How stupid of us to let these things happen to our natural spaces? If the pandemic has taught us anything, it is that you cannot go on destroying nature without consequences. Yet, our wheels of development are churning at an alarming pace and only doom awaits us at the other end. Can we not protect the landscapes for their inherent value of beauty, aesthetics, and, for whatever little biodiversity it supports? Could this not have been different?. Hope seems ever so distant.
