Roads, Rocks, and Rampage

    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.

A view of the Jalamangala lake and the hill (Please credit all photos in this post as: Seshadri KS. 2020)

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.

The newly being gouged out road. 

    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 1^st 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.  

The temple on top of Jalamangala fort

    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.

Such lush grass is hard to find in the plains!

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.  

The cut Euphorbia sp. These plants take years to grow. 

    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?

The solar farm

    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.

This will become a new parking lot

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.

The dug up area is apparently a water flow ditch to protect the slope from getting washed.

    “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.

This was the view we had breakfast with!

Kutagal and the eternal love

Our next stop was Kutagal. A scenic rock monolith with a lot of history. Folklore has it that two washer folk who could not get married went there to kill themselves but a sage turned them into a rock and they live forever, together.

A panoramic view of the Kutagal rocks.

    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.

A glimpse from our way up the hill

    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.

The road near the vulture sanctuary

       

Fernando

Fernando had stopped by the old well that winter evening and stood there, staring at his own reflection. He did this every day and for no apparent reason. Only that day, the setting sun had painted the sky with an orange hue. There was a nip in the wind. The bulbuls had settled for the night amidst the Guava tree growing nearby. Darkness was setting in.

“What are you doing there!” he heard someone shout from a distance.

Startled, he turned around to see an indistinct figure. As the figure approached the well, Fernando could see that it was an old man who had wrapped himself with a thick woolen blanket. He walked with a limp in his right leg and carried a cane.

“Young boys like you should not be here this late in the evening. You better get going” he said.

“Nothing, Bora, I was just looking at the calm waters of the well” replied Fernando.

Bora was from the same village as Fernando and used to guard the paddy fields at night from the wild pigs during winter. In summers, he did odd jobs at the village. It was one such summer that Bora injured his leg. Fernando and a bunch of kids had cajoled him to climb up a coconut tree and get tender coconut but Bora lost his footing and came crashing down. The village did not have a doctor and the local bone setter had twisted Bora’s leg back into its place. He obviously did not do a good job of it. With age, this incident had faded in Bora's mind but the limp remained.

 “You seem to want get into trouble always” exclaimed Bora, recognizing it was little Fernando.

“Have you not heard about the Bears and Tigers that roam this forest?” he said.

“You must not be here after dark, now run along” he added.

Indeed, Fernando had heard about the dangerous Tigers and Bears, from the wood gatherers but he had never believed them.

“Alright, alright, no need to get excited” he replied and began to walk homewards.

On his way home, he stopped occasionally upon hearing a faint rustle of leaves, only to see a Pitta settling for the night. He knew the bird because the village boys had once managed to bring one down with a catapult. Many years later, he had seen one alive and recognized it by the distinct ‘Peeee-Pewwww’ song, which confirmed its presence even in the dark.

Back home, his mother was busy patting ‘Rotti’ and baking them on an upturned earthen pot. His village was remote and did not have electricity. Everything had to be done with the wood stove. The kerosene lamp was spewing out soot along with light on the wall.

“Why are you so late?”

“Did you stop by the well again you stupid boy?”

“Care to enlighten me with the wisdom that dawned on you by doing so?” asked his mother with a hint of sarcasm.

Fernando remained quiet.

He nibbled on the dry Rotti, drank a glass of buttermilk and rolled out a mat in the verandah. He sat there leaning against a pillar, looking up at the clear sky. It was full moon and the cold wind was pleasing and just like that, he fell asleep. His mother came over, covered him with a woolen blanket, dimmed the kerosene lamp on the wall and called it a night as well.  

Fernando was like that. He was a quiet boy who seldom spoke. He roamed around, rather dazed and his classmates always made fun of him. He was however, wise enough to take it all in his stride. He stopped by the well for some other reason.

It was the well that was built by his mother’s father. It was a deep one with a spiral staircase made of thick laterite stones that were common around his little village in the foot hills of the Sahyadri. The well used to be popular among boys who would dive into it and swim. Except Fernando. He was reluctant to get into the water. May be stopped there to contemplate on why he was the only one who did not know to swim; perhaps he found solitude in the calm surface of the water.

School, he had found to be terribly boring. His village life, dull. His childhood, lonely.

The next morning, he was back in school. The only thing he looked forward to in school was Mr. Rajanagams geography class. People knew him as ‘RN’. He was from the plains above the hills and always wore a black coat with a black velvet hat. He got trained in English by an Englishman in a convent but never got the hang off the confusing language. He would stress words when he shouldn’t and forgot to stress them when he should have. The kids always had a good laugh when he said ‘Uranus’, much to his chagrin for he did not know why they laughed hysterically when he simply named a planet before Neptune. The students would also mistake his abbreviated name of ‘RN’ for the currency of Japan! That their knowledge of the globe was so bad that they could not tell Jamaica from Japan was another matter.

When RN was not teaching, he would be sitting in the dilapidated staff room peering over maps. Fernando had seen maps before. His father had once got one home many years ago. It was because the police found a map in his father’s possession and sentenced him to death by hanging. Fernando had looked keenly at it and was mesmerized by the lines and squiggles. He was old enough now to know the squiggles were outlines of countries. The horizontal and vertical lines were latitudes and longitudes. He knew making maps was a difficult task but they were useful. Fernando had a wonderful spatial memory mainly because he often wandering around aimlessly around the village.

That evening, after school, Fernando mustered enough courage to walk into the staff room and talk to RN.

“Sir, can you teach me how to make a map” he asked politely  

 “What do you want to make a map of? Of your godforsaken village?”

“A village in which half the people have either died of malaria or have left the place in the fear of ferocious Tigers?” RN added, mockingly.

Fernando knew about the dreaded malaria very well. His young brother had died of delirious fevers not long ago. He also knew that because people either died or left his village, the school did not have a quorum and was shut; which was why he had to come to this school, many miles away.

“But sir, I know the trails in and around our village. May be a map will help the hunters to get rid of the Tigers which scare our last remaining villagers” replied Fernando.

“Alright, that does seem like a good idea but I like to see your village first” said RN.

“I have also heard that you people get delicious jackfruit in the forest, I’d very much like to taste it once” he added.

On the following Saturday afternoon, they both began to walk back from school. On the way, Fernando stopped at the well and stood there again, staring at his own reflection. RN stared at the water too and was tempted swim. Swimming came naturally to RN. He had heard about the ‘English Channel’ and wanted to set a record by swimming across.

Undressing to his loincloth, RN dived in. Neither of them was aware of the danger that was lurking behind. Fernando stood there, looking at RN swim like a fish. Suddenly, he caught sight of something in the corner of his eye. Along the edge of the forest, he saw a crouched figure. At first, he thought it was the hot winter sun playing tricks on his mind. Then he saw something twitch. It was the black tip of a Tiger’s tail! It was less than 50 yards away and the beast was ready to pounce on Fernando.

He thought he will reach the village if he ran quickly. But then, RN would be left in his loincloth and the Tiger could get him if he got out. Before he knew it, the Tiger sprung at him.

Tiger! Tiger! Fernando screamed and blacked out.

Fernando woke up coughing water. He lay on Bora’s lap with his mother in tears and RN peering at him. A smile dawned upon everybody.

 “What happened?” mumbled Fernando.

“Nothing son, Nothing. We must thank the gods for you are alive!” he exclaimed. Fernando’s mother went off to the kitchen to get warm milk mixed with crushed turmeric and fried Jackfruit.

The only person who knew what had happened was Fernando and he did not remember a thing!

Rajanagam only saw Fernando jump into the water and had saved him from drowning. Soon after Fernando dived into the well, RN had hauled him up the stairs to find Bora running towards the well. Bora had heard the screams and knew Fernando was in some trouble. Only the previous evening, a Tiger had attacked one of Bora’s only two cattle. The Tiger was unsuccessful and Bora knew it was lurking around. Hence, he had built a hide atop a tree and sat there.

Bora and RN lifted Fernando, got him home and managed to revive him.

The dreadful Tiger was soon taken care of by hunters who dug pits and set baits along particular trails marked out by Fernando on a map. The Tiger fell into a pit and was sold off to a circus in some distant land in Europe. Perhaps Portugal or was it France?

As for Fernando, one can never be sure if it was the Tiger or the fear of water that made him unconscious that fateful Saturday afternoon. It is most likely the Tiger but thanks to the beast, Fernando now jumps into the same old well and swims like a fish. He does so every evening without fear or a care in the world.  

A short piece of fiction by Seshadri K S. 2nd February 2018

Aotearoa—the land of long white clouds

Most of us who have gone to school in India (and perhaps elsewhere) will remember those hectic mornings where dirty black shoes had to be polished. If not, we would get a whack for indiscipline in the morning assembly.  When one forgot to use ‘Kiwi’ shoe polish, the quick solution would be to wipe the shoe with socks and save the skin. For many of us, Kiwi polish was (and to a greater part is) the only association to the land of Kiwis.

‘Nova Zeelandia’ as the Dutch explorer Abel Tasman (After whom Tasman Sea is named) chanced upon this country which was unknown to the west until 1600’s. Just like Columbus mistook West Indies for India, Tasman apparently mistook New Zealand to the Southern tip of South America. Polynesian settlers know as Māori had however, long settled in this Island nation.  

"Polynesian Migration" by David Eccles. Migration arrows Taiwan through Melanesia to Polynesia, and earlier migration to Australia and New Guinea; Colonisation of East Polynesia, and dispersal to more remote islands (including Hawaii, Easter Island, and New Zealand) Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons 

New Zealand as we know today is famous for many things. Kiwi fruits; Kiwi bird; Sir Ed. Hillary; Cheese; Wine; Cricket; Earthquakes and Cattle to name a few. One of the world’s least populated countries is the closest big landmass to Antarctic in the South Pacific Ocean. New Zealand also perhaps the first country to see the sunrise as per the International Date Line in the Southern hemisphere!. The country has a rich biodiversity and a unique biogeography. Much of the uniqueness is not well known to a vast majority of people like myself.

Kiwi Land

Watching a program by the BBC on TV four years ago, I had this deep sense of longing to go visit this beautiful country. Little did I know that my wish would soon come true. At a conference in Canada, it was announced that the next conference of the International Congress for Conservation Biology would be held in New Zealand. The conference in Canada being my first one to which I had got in by sheer luck (and what some may dare call divine intervention), I had very little clue how to go about getting myself to such conferences. The clock had started ticking. In about a year that passed, I had managed to gather data on ecology of frogs using automated sound recorders and put in an abstract to present my work at the 25^th International Congress for Conservation Biology. In a few months, I heard that I was selected and was to present a poster. Allwin, my colleague too had also got in! 

Traveling costs money. Especially if one is a student in a third world country like India. I had sought for travel bursaries but had got only half of what was sufficient to go. A round of (what can be called bargaining and) justifying to the grant makers ensued and I finally managed to get the entire airfare and conference fees paid by the generous Conservation Leadership Program!. So plans were made two months before the trip and the deal was to stay back as long as our pockets would run dry and see as much as we could of this country which the Maori used to call as the ‘land of Long White Clouds’.

Land beyond the land down under

New Zealand would perhaps be the farthest I would have gone from home as the crow flies. We flew in Cathay Pacific with a stopover at Hong Kong. I was to fly with Allwin who got his wife along as well. So I packed shop and took a bus to Chennai and we all planned to fly out together. Last minute packing and all kept us busy. My folks were all in the US and I was doing all this alone. Was fun nonetheless. I couldn’t blame anyone for misplacing things!

An uneventful flight dropped us off at Hong Kong where we had to wait for a few hours. The swanky terminal and a small museum of Hong Kong culture kept us busy. 

A wonderful quote and yes, a selfie too!

Allwin was busy listening to the infamous Why this Kolaveri Di? song on the free internet. The entire airport was built on land reclaimed from the South China Sea. It was surely one of the busiest airports I had been to. The landing and taking off was indeed breathtaking. Heading straight down to the deep blue waters and landing on the tarmac among mountains that rise out of the Sea. Our next ride was prepped up to leave and we got on for the second leg of our journey. 

The Boeing that flew us to Kiwi Land

In flight entertainment and unlimited servings of alcohol kept us busy for the long journey. I always enjoyed sitting by the window to take pictures. Being the land closest to the date line, the sun was up quite early. Much to my neighbors’ annoyance, I opened the blinds and clicked away. The colors of the morning sky are always a treat to watch.
The New Zealand trip had opened up a lot of old connections. I had gotten in touch with Sana and Smitha with whom unfortunately, I would hardly talk when we were classmates in Josephs. We spoke over email and had plans to go scuba diving on the day we land in Auckland. The plans were to check into the accommodation given by the grant makers and catch a quick bus to the diving spot. With such zealous plans we woke up as the plane got closer to Kiwiland. 

The sky was a long blanket of white clouds. No wonder the Maori people called it Aotearoa. 

 

First landfall of the Auckland Coast.

The flight landed into Auckland. Again, it headed straight to the Sea. Then over a lake. As suddenly as it all began. We were there. We had reached the place. A dream had come true.

The immigration was not too much a big deal but the officers on duty had their eyes popped out with the three of us. NZ is a great country and they are very careful about outside plants and animals becoming invasive. They screen everything. No uncooked food gets across. No honey. No fruits. They saw my field boots and asked if I worked in forests. Yes. I was asked to step out of the line. Was made to walk to a tray with some sort of ‘seedicide’ and made to stomp my feet thoroughly. After sanitizing my boots, I was back on line. Then came the bags. We all were carrying ready to eat food from India. This was to get over homesickness and to cut costs. Being a veggie, I was extra worried of not finding proper food. Each of us had 30 packets of MTR ready to eat food in our bags.  One by one, we opened our bags.

 The gentleman asked is there food in this?.

 Yes.

 All 30 packs?

Yes.

Are they cooked.

Yes, they are ready to be eaten.

Ok. Next was my turn.

How about you sir, got any food?.

Yes. Food.

All this?.

Yes.

Wow. You also have a tripod- nature lover eh?.

Yes sir!, going on a hike in your beautiful country.

Alright. Next was Allwin or his wife I don’t remember. The man asked same question.

Food?. Yes of course!.

Oh gosh! All this?. You know guys, we sell food in our country, says the officer tongue in cheek. We have a good laugh and off we go. The immigration line was all people going to the conference. We could see people with rolled posters. All we had to do was to follow the crowd and we got into a public transport bus and reached the hotel we were staying at.

Finding the place was a little difficult and we asked a convenience store chap who said he had no idea. We step out. Look up and the shop is in the basement of the same hotel where we had to stay. Oh those Indian technique of ‘Just ask someone’ does not really work!

The rains had got the Scuba plans to a halt. We called up Sana and made other plans. That I shall talk in the next blog post!

The rains poured away throwing zealous plans out of gear!

Tryst with life in the East coast and Eastern Ghats

Tryst with life in the East coast and Eastern Ghats

— Part six of a six part series on my recent sojourn into this unique part of India.

Day 6: Mangroves, mosquitoes and madness

The lodge was right next to the bus stand. Every bus that came and went honked. Then there were some weird insects that kept biting. The oven like room only got hotter. Not being able to tolerate the heat, Dr. Ganesh opened the door. We tried sleeping but no luck. By morning, my feet were red by scratching. The beds were wet due to sweat. Somehow, that terrible night had passed.  

A quick tea and by 6 am we were out. We caught an auto and headed to Coringa Wildlife sanctuary. It was a large mangrove forest. Just outside the city of Kakinada. The auto guy was a crook. He tried to palm us off to another auto by saying the place we wanted to go was too far and fleeced money out. All the while, he bugged Vikram insisting he pronounce the name properly. The other auto took us to the place, dropped us off the main road and gave his number so we could call him to be picked up. We began walking. The sun was burning hot. It was highly humid. Sweat broke like rivulets. On top of it, I had forgotten my hat in the room. We heard a tractor approach. Before we could stop and ask for a lift, a group of people walking behind us got on to the tractor. There was no place for the four of us. We walked along. For the first time, we all saw cattle being kept inside mosquito nets. We wondered why.

Coringa was a nice place. It was known to have salt water crocodiles, the endangered fishing cat and all that. Excited we all were. We walked past several fish culture ponds covered with nets to prevent birds. A small wetland adjacent to it had water and there were several birds. We saw a big flock of what looked like Godwits. Prashanth quickly spotted a Brahminy Shelduck. A winter migrant. It was the first time I was seeing the bird. We also saw several golden plovers. A few black winged stilts were nesting on small mud islands in the water. It was the first time we were seeing them nesting out in the open. A few pictures and we finally reached the gates. 

Brahminy Shelducks

As we walked into the interpretation centre, the closed gates came in view. The place was not to open until 10 am. It was just about 7 am and heat was already unbearable. On top of it, we realized we were being hoarded by mosquitoes. Big ones. Their bite was penetrating the shirt and hitting the back. It was damn irritating. Now we realized why the cows needed the nets. We walk up to the estuary and saw a fisherman boat ready to head out to sea. We asked for a ride and they said no. We tried to enjoy the landscape for a short period. We tried hard but could not forget the mosquitoes. Finally, we decided to go. There was no point waiting there till 10. The auto chap was called and he came. Meantime, we went back to the wetland to see the godwits and were in for a treat. Over 1500 individuals were there and they all took to flight at once. It was a visual treat to watch. It was the biggest flock of any bird I had seen. For about 10 minutes, we all watched the natural wonder, oblivious of everything around us. 

Murmurations of Black Tailed Godwits

The auto got us back to the city and we had a quick breakfast. I went to check if there was any bus available to Bangalore. The train berths were still not confirmed. The bus too was full. It looked like we had no choice. We had to sit in the train and travel overnight. Meantime, Prashanth wanted to visit the mouth of River Krishna. It was close to Kakinada in a place called Yanam. A small fragment of Pondicherry that sits in Andhra Pradesh. If Kerala is gods own country, I firmly believe that Pondicherry and its pieces are Yamaraj’s (the god of death) own country. I had taken owe not to set foot into Pondicherry. But I thought the journey was better than being in the oven like room of the lodge. A bus ride under hot sun got us to Yanam. We took an auto and reached the beach. It was desolate. No person in their right minds would come there walking at 12 in the noon we thought. Temperatures had hit over 38 deg cel. A kid selling ice cream harangued us. We thought of humoring his enthusiasm and bought three. It tasted like sand. I wondered what water he used. None the less, we ate it before it melted off. Pondicherry tourism had a boat ride for public. The people there came and asked us if we wanted to go on the ride. We were not keen. They all said the river mouth was the sea. No one really knew where the sea was. Not unusual for Pondy I thought. The beach road was adorned with busts of political leaders, cast and religious pundits and was basically congress party’s propaganda. Statue of two elephants spraying water from their trunks to a Shiva Linga (Phallus) was a big thing on the beach.  Next to it was a Mosque built like a ship, sponsored by Reliance ltd. More propaganda I thought. 

We decided to walk back to the bus stand and not go in search of sea. While walking back, we noticed several bird droppings on the ground. Looking up, we saw night herons on nests! 

Bird Poop

 We were in for a surprise. They were not supposed to be breeding that time of year.  There was an average 4-5 nest on each tree and there were easily over 20 trees. A few cormorants too kept flying about.  We took counts and photos. 

 

Night Herons

Later, Prashanth got busy wiping off bird dropping from his bag. A crow or something decided to take a dump on his bag! The tissue paper he liberally used was manufactured in Beirut, Lebanon. Wow! Globalization has really happened. We were in godforsaken Yanam and wiping crow poop in paper made half way across the globe.  

Beirut to Pondicherry as crow poop wipe!

 Walking back further, we saw several tree covered with nests. Egrets, Herons and cormorants. If not for anything, the ‘discovery’ of the heronary was pleasing. We reached the bus stand and cooled ourselves down with chilled flavored milk and waited for the bus. It was lunch time and the bus was late. One bus came, we got in. The driver was fiddling around a new DVD player and soon, LOUD blaring music was on. We felt terrible. People did not know what personal space was. Nor did they care. For over half an hour, the bus did not move. The owner of the transport, clad in white dothi and kurta sat in the shelter wearing cooling glass. He was busy counting money. The bus finally left. We asked the conductor to tune down the volume. He partly obliged. Pondy was always like this. Every morning, when I would go to the university, I would be half dead because of the loud music. I think people are deaf there. Anyways, we reached Kakinada and were asked to get down and walk to bus stand. The auto chap who took us for a ride in the morning waylaid us and tried to make us get in so he would drop us at the bus stand. We kept walking and there was no clue of the stand. We were getting late. A bus came and we got in.  

 The last leg of our journey had begun. A hurried lunch and we began to pack up. An auto got us to the railway station. The train was packed. We had a reservation against cancellation ticket. We got in. The train left. No seats were empty. Evening, we saw Bitterns flying across in paddy fields. Several other birds kept us occupied till nightfall. After Rajahmundry, we sat up to look at the bridge along the Godavari River. The bridge was 2 km long. Train ran over it for like 5 minutes. A little over 1/4^th the journey, Prashanth got a berth to sleep in. Dr. Ganesh and I decided to sit up and take turns to catch up on sleep. It was 10 in the night and we were hungry. Our co passengers had eaten early dinner and slept off. We too kept dozing off. At Vijaywada, we finally managed to get some food. Tonight too, it was to be continental food with Cheese and Veg Sandwich! We got back on the train and it moved. Middle of the night, the conductor woke me up and asked me to take up an empty berth. I went and slept. Must be 10 minutes when he came and woke me up. It seems the actual traveler was sitting elsewhere and he came back. I was asked to go back. I sat and slept off listening to music. Later, Dr. Ganesh asked me to go crash on the berth. I did. Morning light woke me up. We had covered over half the journey. There was a lot more distance to go. By noon, we reached Bangalore. 

Prashanth, Ganesh and I have had a lot of adventure together over the several years of working with wildlife. Those moments range from absolute hilarity to near death situations. Along the way, we have had the joy of observing wildlife, discussing ideas, talking about way of things and witness to several realization incidents. This time, Vikram, Allwin and Giri was party to the fun as well. The hot weather, sleepless nights, information overload by the amazingly varied experiences is something hard for me to forget. I am sure others think of it that way too. On the return trip, I was having mixed feelings. May be I wished to stay back for a few more days. May be I will go back some day. Till then, sunburns, insect bites and memories are all that is left. 

 

The team: L to R: Allwin Jesudasan, Vikram Adithya, Dr. Ganesh, Prashanth M B and Giridhar Malla.

Read Part five here