From the margins of forest clearings, deep-throated hornbill-voles reverberate uneasily
From the margins of forest clearings, deep-throated hornbill-voles reverberate uneasily
Legend says that the Paniya chieftain, Karinthandan, who lived in the late 18th century, helped the British find a way from Malabar to Mysore in the dense Wayanad forest. Although overjoyed, the British wanted to keep the track of the forest a secret, so they killed him soon after the discovery.
,
In the 1980s, I used to travel from Kozhikode to Bangalore by boarding the narrow ghat road in a narrow KSRTC bus. Drivers who took pride in their expertise in negotiating hairpin turns would show high regard for fellow motorists and wait patiently on wide patches for an oncoming vehicle to pass.
The ancient timbers guarding the cliffs of the rocky mountain immediately struck awe in the minds of the travelers. The drivers would turn off the engines and stop to clear the troop of monkeys. As the bus moved forward, a smoky mountain mist ( Kotamanju) will come in through the windows. The sudden drop in temperature has brought respite from the scorching heat. The setting and surroundings of sparsely populated Wayanad was quite different from the hot, sultry downtown Malabar cities below. No one can forget the sweetness of tea gardens and the rustic solitude of thatched-roofed shops. In those days, Wayanad was a less traveled area and the exaggerated tales of wildlife sightings and leech bites brought back by the visitors gave a charming aura to the locals.
Wayanad has gone through a transformation of sorts since then. The ghat road, designated as a national highway, is now much wider and ensures a smooth drive. Noisy young tourists, seeking revenge after the pandemic’s hiatus, took to the streets of the hill district, now a famous VIP constituency.
Scores of holiday resorts have popped up in recent years. Some of these establishments are deep inside dense forests. On paper, these are private properties, but how the owners acquired their ownership in the middle of the forest remains a question. Trees are cleared in large circles to make cottages. From the margins of the clearing, deep-throated hornbill-voles reverberate uneasily. Hiding behind foliage, wild squirrels sound the alarm at their solitary invaders. Monkeys raid the garbage heap. A caretaker told me that these ventures are owned by wealthy businessmen from other parts of the state. “These are hideouts for their ill-gotten wealth,” he admitted.
On the main street, I see banners and billboards demanding amendments to the Environmental Protection Act (EPA) and exemptions from eco-sensitive area laws. The battle lines are clearly drawn. On the one hand, there are political parties, unscrupulous businessmen and religious groups and on the other there are allegations of tigers and tigers in what are called “human habitats”. Wayanad is perhaps a regrettable example of the many unjust wars going on across the world.
On my return journey, I stop at Lakkidi near the “Chain Tree”. The inscription on the monument says that the spirit of Karinthandan, the tribal chief who unknowingly revealed the route, is chained here. Right across the street, a newly constructed skyscraper has blocked my view of the virgin mountain top. Before it’s too late, it’s time for Wayanad to “uncheck” his sense of the jungle.
harichitrakootam@yahoo.com