On one's travel from the town of Jeypore in Koraput district to Malkangiri occurs the small village of Govindapalli, almost halfway between the former and latter. I am going to relate to a few of my fond memories of this small yet amazing place that I have been able to retrieve from the stack piles of remembrances. I lived in Govindapalli for a short period from year 1996 to 1997 with my parents and brother. The rented house in which we lived was towards one corner of the village. The owner of the house was employed as a forest guard in the Forest Department for the sake of it, but he was one of the wealthy Brahmin farmers of the village cultivating paddy on land close to hundred acres and owner of the only rice mill of Govindapalli. Apparently due to this he wielded considerable influence in the area. Their homestead was therefore a typical wealthy farmers homestead. The house was located at the end of a street, relatively on higher ground. The courtyard was one large cattle shed which sheltered nearly 20 heads of cattle and 10-15 goats. In the middle of the courtyard was one big dug out canoe of sal log which served as the eating and drinking space for all the cattle. Once in the morning and once in the evening the canoe would be filled up with rice husk, rice water etc. for the cattle to feed on. To the west was the huge old tin roofed house where the owners lived.To the east was the house in which we lived. It was a simple two bed room affair with a train coach like alignment of rooms.
The village itself is located at the foot of a ghat. Luxuriant sal forest surround the village on Eastern and Northern sides and paddy field interspersed with scrub forest mark its Southern and Western periphery. River Saptadhara takes its languid and serpentine course to the west of Govindapalli.
We moved to Govindapalli in the month of September of year 1996. The following winter and spring were very good time to explore the surroundings. That winter many of our mornings were spent driving up and down the ghat from Govindapalli on my fathers trusty Rajdoot. Starting very early in the morning we would drive up the ghat just as the mist is clearing up. We would not see any wildlife except Red Jungle Fowls. A 4-5 kms stretch of the ghat around river Saptadhara and Kasigada yielded the most number of sightings. The gaily coloured cocks often darted across the roads and the shyer hens kept to the clearings in forests where crops has been harvested. Me and Sidhu(my younger brother) have many times given them a chase down into the bushes just for the fun of it. Two three rides up and down the ghat watching birds would culminate at a pool on Saptadhara river. The pool was a furlong away from the road. A huge mango tree and a massive rock overlooked the limpid pool whose banks were lined with fine sand. A quick splash and lesson of swimming in the icy cold water and we would call it a day.
On some Saturdays and Sundays we would go to the same pool for our amateur angling sessions. In fact this was the pool where father first taught us to make a rudimentary fishing rod from Bamboo and cast a line with bait. We used lines and hooks purchased from the weekly haat. Peafowl feathers were used as floats. The rod, hook and line were of the most basic nature to say the least, but that was hardly a deterrent, for us, to dream about landing that 50 pound Mahsheer and make our way into the angling record books. The river Saptadhara at that time did have some pools where Mahsheer fish flourished. It would be a matter of much jubilation if we bagged even a small palm sized tiddler. Thus were the weekends.
Other such occasions for outing were the festive days like Holi, when the entire village would be soaking in colours and noisy celebration. Our plans would be otherwise. The colours of sal forest in spring proved more alluring to us than the many shades of gulal. When it comes to Ghooming plans in junlges, earlier is better. The sight and smells of a deciduous jungle at dawn has no parallel. The activity of the forest denizens is also at the peak when the sun is young.
It was on one such Holi we made an early start, just before sunrise. Among the things we carried with us water was most important. 3-4 liters of drinking water would keep us going for the entire outing. Mom packed us a nice cold lunch of Paratha and Potato Fry. From the end of the village it was a walk through the paddy fields in a single file. Baba leading the way, me and Sidhu bringing up the rear and our dog Rocky at our heels.
Here I will have to tell you all something about our pet Rocky. Our long time wish to keep a pet came true when we brought Rocky home. Our land lords had a bitch named Tommy, yes you read it right, her name was Tommy, as is the case with every other village-cur-with-an-English-name. I can best describe Tommy as a cross between a Welsh Corgi and an Indian Dog, with marginally longer legs than a Corgi. Its coloration was mostly black and white. Poor Tommy was part of a travelling circus which had once camped at Govindapalli. In a twist of fate she was either left behind by the circus or escaped from the mundane circus to find a laid-back and easy-going life at Govindapalli. She found the home of our Land lord much to her liking and took shelter there. Food was never a problem in the house of a wealthy Brahmin. Nobody chained her, so she had the whole village, surrounding fields and forests to amble about and numerous village mutts to choose from as a suitor. When I saw her she was almost 10 year old. Rocky was from one of her litters. She had littered under a staircase just in front of our door. Rocky was the pick of the litter. All of the pups from her litter were black and white. Other pups were readily picked up or were given away to the acquaintances of our land lords. Rocky did not enter our family so easily. It took its share of pleading, cajoling, persuasion etc. to get Rocky home. Baba had his point. Getting a pet home is nothing short of welcoming a new member to the family who has to be cared and treated well and many such responsibilities that come with a pet. We picked up Rocky after all the deliberations. To Rocky's good fortune he could enjoy the affection of her mother as they lived in the same compound. Rocky looked identical to his mother, except for his drooping ears and stiff long tail. Tommy had a puny and curvy tail. Rocky was an adorable dog. Of all the dogs I have seen or cared for, I can assure, that Rocky was the laziest. Lazy to the extent that I have hardly heard him bark at anyone coming into the compound.
As we started our march with Rocky, Tommy started following. At the end of the village we unleashed Rocky. The end of paddy fields brought us on to the kachha road that physically separates the fields from the forest and skirts the forest in the south. To the north of the road a hill rises abruptly up to a height of about 600 feet from the road. The hill clothed with dense sal forest is known as "Hunkar Dangar". The interesting name of the hill has been coined due to the constant booming whoops that can be heard from the hill. The makers of these whooping noises are none other than the many group of langur monkeys that inhabit the hill. The word "hunkar" in Koraputia loosely translates to whoop or roar. As if to do justice to the name of the hill a troop of langur started their whooping just when we were nearing its base. The road on which we were walking connected the villages of Kamlapadar, Limbapadar and Sadakput etc. to the main Jeypore-Govindapalli road. Beyond the village of Kamlapadar the road fords the Saptadhara river where it is easily fordable in fair weather. But during rains it becomes a raging torrent and people of the villages beyond either use a circuitous road to reach the main road or stay put till the water recedes in the river. In winter the sandy bed of Saptadhara and other such streams of this area are used for cultivation. The sandy bed is called "Atalo" here. A particular variety of Brinjal is grown in the "atalo" here which has a huge demand in the markets of Malkangiri and Jeypore because of their size and taste. One rotund brinjal may weigh close to a kilo, yet they are soft and fleshy. The taste of bharta made from these can turn the strongest detractors of this vegetable into its admirer. Just before the village of Kamlapadar the road bifurcates, the bigger road goes to Kamlapadar and the smaller track leads north and into the forest. We took the latter. The plan was to head north, circumvent the hill and ascend from its northern face. The southern face of Hunkar dangar is nothing but precipitous rock. The whole southern face looked like a huge mass of black granite, sloping at a steep angle. Before entering forest proper Baba briefed us with his instruction. "Now we will be entering the forest. So no talking in loud voices, only in whispers. If you want to draw attention then whistle. If you see any animal, freeze in your tracks"
The narrow track lead us through forest proper. As we entered the woods our anticipation and excitement increased thinking of the prospect of sighting any wild animals. With in few minutes of walking Baba pointed at something that glided from one tree to another and looked like a flying doormat with a bushy tail trailing from it. We had not seen anything of that sort earlier. Just as we stood and watched in awe the object again turned into a flying rug and effortlessly glided to another tree out of sight. Baba asked us in hushed voice"what did you see boys?" We shook our head sideways, having no idea what the animal was. "It was a Flying Squirrel". We were rewarded with the sighting of the very very rare Indian Flying Squirrel. Lady luck was all smiles at us.
The general scenery around was very pleasing to the eyes. The endless shades of green and brown were broken by the pale yellow of the sal leaves. Then, here and there were the more gaily reddish orange petals of " the flame of the forest". This tree is not very numerous in these forests but what they could not achieve with their numbers, they made up for with their colour. They splash the forest with patches of their colorful flowers. Bees, Sunbirds, Flowerpeckers and other nectar loving creatures flock around this tree. The forest resembled more like an unkempt park. The low grass growing here and there were just turning yellow due to the change of season. We were in no hurry and just ambled along the forest path looking around for birds and animals. Baba having spent a lot of his time in the jungles of Koraput knew a great deal about jungle lore. Baba showed us the game trails(rough paths made in grass and undergrowth by passage of wild animals) which may not be so noticeable to a townsman. The game trails tell a lot about the movement of animals. It was in those game trails where Baba taught us how to distinguish between the tracks of a barking deer and wild boar, because the numerous game trails that criss-crossed the park like forest held many different tracks of these two types of animals. In the course of walking around a kilometer we came across the numerous tracks of boar and barking deer, droppings of hare at a place, a heap of barking deer droppings and the remains of a bird which must have been devoured by a carnivore. That was a lot of jungle lore for a mornings outing. But while walking in a forest every step taken is a lesson learnt for green horns like us.
Rocky and Tommy did not walk at our heels. Excited by the surrounding they kept ahead of us. Whenever they were out of sight Baba had to call them back by whistling. Walking in this fashion we reached the foot of the northern face of Hunkar Dangar. Here in the shade of a tree we rested for a while and slaked our thirst with the cold water from the can we were carrying. Then we started our ascent of the hill. As usual Rocky and Tommy galloped ahead. The hill side was covered with dense forest. The bauhinia creeper ran over most of the forest trees forming an impenetrable canopy.
A Racket-tailed Drongo voiced his scolding at us from his perch somewhere up on a thick bauhinia creeper. The season being fall, many of the deciduous trees had shed leaf profusely. Our passage on the leaf litter made a lot of noise and the galloping and frolicking by our quadruped companions added to that. So any animals coming our way was a slim possibility. Rocky wasn't even a year old then. In the excitement of the outing in the forest he ran about pointlessly and spent most of his energy. When the real strenuous task of climbing the hill came his way, he started panting huff and puff. Halfway up the hill and he could not walk any more. No amount of prodding or enticement would make it move. We decided to take a break and partake of our meal which we had carried with us. This we thought will give the much needed break for us and Rocky to regain our breaths. As we started our meal poor Rocky lay down on his flank, panting heavily. We could see him lying on a bed of dried leaves. I tried feeding him a few pieces of paratha, that we were having, but he would not have any of it. This got us really worried. In the mean time Rocky woke up with a start and thud he fell into a small ditch just below the place where he was lying. I could hear only his whimpers. I ran up to the ditch to find a whimpering Rocky rolling from side to side in the leaf filled ditch and trying to get at something on his own belly. It was a comical sight. It took me quite sometime to realize the cause of my pets discomfiture. But soon as i found it, the leaf litter on which our lazy dog was lying turned out to be a colony of red ants, the ants that are known as kai in Koraput and are more famous for the spicy and tangy chutney that is prepared by mashing these ants and their eggs with chilly and a few other condiments. The ants had got the better of our pet and attacked the most vulnerable parts of a dogs anatomy, its belly and genitals which do not grow any fur. I went into the ditch to my dogs rescue and got a few stings myself. Once out of the ditch Rocky kept scratching and whimpering. The red ants only added to woes of an already exhausted dog. Baba made a bowl from bauhinia leaves while I tried to calm him down by caressing his belly. We poured some of our drinking water into it and placed it in-front of Rocky. Rocky drank it to the last drop and made puppy noise asking for more. In went another cup of water. The cold water from the can breathed some life into the dog and it now stood on its quarter. Some pieces of paratha after that, and Rocky was good to go again. We warped up our meal quickly and were on our way again. If one has an eye for it, one can learn a lot of things in a forest. For example that day during our trek we saw a ditch which was freshly dug out. The soil from the ditch sparkled like gold. In a first look at the soil one may be fooled to believe that the soil has gold in it. Baba told us that the soil has crystals of mica. Gold may not occur in a crystal form. Some enterprising villagers dig out this mica crystal. Grind it to a fine powder to mix it with lime or other colored soil and paint their homes. This indigenous hack gives their huts the much needed luster.
I feel I am wandering away from our trek too many times in this writing, at the same time I also feel, being a Koraputia, its my obligation to tell you about things that one may come across while roaming in Koraput. In some little time we reached near the top of the hill. As we neared the summit of the hill the vegetation grew thinner and the sun started peeping harder through the canopy. We could feel its heat now. The top of the hill was a maze of boulders. Boulders of all sizes ranging from a football to a truck were strewn all over the place. The top was almost devoid of big trees except for a few clump of bamboo and other bushes. Under the smaller boulders we found freshly dug out soil. That indicated the handiwork of a sloth bear who must have scratched under the boulders in search of succulent grubs or other such delicacy which the member of bruin race relish. On other boulders we came across fresh scat of sloth bear. We could clearly see undigested seeds of tendu/kendu in the scat. Baba told us to watch around and asked us to follow him. It was nearing mid day and the possibility of a bear being about anywhere in the open was very less. But the two dogs running about and making a lot of noise could unduly attract the attention of any bear or any other animal enjoying a mid day siesta in any of the many caves that lay about in almost all direction. Jumping from boulder to boulder we negotiated a good 100 meters. This brought us to the brow of the hill. The sun was almost overhead and with each passing minute the temperature soared. Standing there we admired the view of forest to the west and north. We could clearly see the serpentine course of Saptadhara and Dharamgarh river in the distance. The two rivers converged around the horizon. To the south, fields around Govindapally shimmered from the rising heat waves of mid day. We saw the southern face of the hill from where we were standing and it became evident that it will be very difficult to descend from that path which was not a path but a precipitous cliff. So we went a little way back on the hill from where we had come and cut a diagonal way down the western side of the hill which seemed a more easier thing to do. As we found later the diagonal path we took was not a very easy one either. The hill side was not as steep as the one we had avoided but was not very easy to descend nonetheless. Finding a foot hold on the gravely surface was little scary experience. The hill side had no bushes to hold on to. The bigger trees were the only ones to rely on. Baba identified to us the many ghost trees that grew around. These trees stood out among the other trees of the forest due to their pale whitish bark. With measured steps we could climb down half way and from there the descent became easier till the foot of the hill. The two dogs were waiting for us on the road, reaching there much ahead of us. From there we quickened our pace back to home. To wear off the exhaustion we took a dip in a hill stream that had been dammed among the paddy fields. It was almost half past noon when we reached home, tired and exhausted. The festivities of holi had come to an end in the village.
Now when I look back at those days I am filled with a mixed emotions. The feeling of having spent some wonderful time in those forests is something that I want to cherish. The situation prevailing in those parts these days, fills me with grief and concern. The area has undergone a radical change since the time we lived there. Left wing extremists took over the whole area soon after we left Govindapalli. The natives taking the advantage of the law and order situation had a free run of the place and destroyed miles of these beautiful forests and poached countless animals that lived there. Forest protection became an exercise merely confined to the files and folders of the department. Movement of outsiders in these forests today is a risky affair. An outsider roaming in these forests is at the risk of getting heckled by both the side, the police or the extremists. To go on a hike in these jungles today is an endeavour with considerable risk to ones life and belongings. Because death lurks there in the form of a bullet or a land mine waiting to go off. In spite of its share of threat, as a grown up youth, I have gone into different parts of these forests whenever opportunity has afforded, just for the sake of my love for these jungles where I have spent some of my most memorable days. But the peace and joy that one experiences on those wanderings is not all the same. Fear accompanied me on these later occasions. A father taking his two adolescent kids for a hike along the forest paths around Govindapalli is something that one can not even imagine today. I have related about some of my recent hikes in these forests somewhere earlier in this blog. The signs of animals is getting fewer by the day and birds are holding on to an ever contracting forest. The ghat whose winding roads and tall trees were our favourite haunts, is now the haunt of red rebels and the security forces who are camped there to counter them. The steep climb up from Kasigada bridge where Baba has come across a beautiful male leopard many a times, now overlooks a BSF camp heavily guarded by armed sentries and it is lit up by bright flood lights at night. I don't see the Emerald doves at the cool and damp ravine near Mantriamba any more. A huge crater on the road greeted me instead of the doves. The crater was the result of a heavy explosion of an IED which claimed the lives of a few jawans. The familiar sal trees which were landmarks for us due to their colossal size are not there anymore. Some of them were felled by Naxalites to block the road and some were felled because they were coming in the way of a wide road that was passing through the forest.
They said prosperity will walk through these roads !
Note : Neither I nor my family possessed a camera at that time. I have used a few photos in this blog which have been taken much later around 2010 in the same area by me. Though the places I have written about lie in present day Malkangiri district I refer to them as Koraput as a matter of personal choice as they were part of Un-divided Koraput district which was one of the largest districts of India.
We moved to Govindapalli in the month of September of year 1996. The following winter and spring were very good time to explore the surroundings. That winter many of our mornings were spent driving up and down the ghat from Govindapalli on my fathers trusty Rajdoot. Starting very early in the morning we would drive up the ghat just as the mist is clearing up. We would not see any wildlife except Red Jungle Fowls. A 4-5 kms stretch of the ghat around river Saptadhara and Kasigada yielded the most number of sightings. The gaily coloured cocks often darted across the roads and the shyer hens kept to the clearings in forests where crops has been harvested. Me and Sidhu(my younger brother) have many times given them a chase down into the bushes just for the fun of it. Two three rides up and down the ghat watching birds would culminate at a pool on Saptadhara river. The pool was a furlong away from the road. A huge mango tree and a massive rock overlooked the limpid pool whose banks were lined with fine sand. A quick splash and lesson of swimming in the icy cold water and we would call it a day.
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| Morning View of Saptadhara River |
On some Saturdays and Sundays we would go to the same pool for our amateur angling sessions. In fact this was the pool where father first taught us to make a rudimentary fishing rod from Bamboo and cast a line with bait. We used lines and hooks purchased from the weekly haat. Peafowl feathers were used as floats. The rod, hook and line were of the most basic nature to say the least, but that was hardly a deterrent, for us, to dream about landing that 50 pound Mahsheer and make our way into the angling record books. The river Saptadhara at that time did have some pools where Mahsheer fish flourished. It would be a matter of much jubilation if we bagged even a small palm sized tiddler. Thus were the weekends.
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| View From Top of Govindapalli Ghat |
Other such occasions for outing were the festive days like Holi, when the entire village would be soaking in colours and noisy celebration. Our plans would be otherwise. The colours of sal forest in spring proved more alluring to us than the many shades of gulal. When it comes to Ghooming plans in junlges, earlier is better. The sight and smells of a deciduous jungle at dawn has no parallel. The activity of the forest denizens is also at the peak when the sun is young.
It was on one such Holi we made an early start, just before sunrise. Among the things we carried with us water was most important. 3-4 liters of drinking water would keep us going for the entire outing. Mom packed us a nice cold lunch of Paratha and Potato Fry. From the end of the village it was a walk through the paddy fields in a single file. Baba leading the way, me and Sidhu bringing up the rear and our dog Rocky at our heels.
Here I will have to tell you all something about our pet Rocky. Our long time wish to keep a pet came true when we brought Rocky home. Our land lords had a bitch named Tommy, yes you read it right, her name was Tommy, as is the case with every other village-cur-with-an-English-name. I can best describe Tommy as a cross between a Welsh Corgi and an Indian Dog, with marginally longer legs than a Corgi. Its coloration was mostly black and white. Poor Tommy was part of a travelling circus which had once camped at Govindapalli. In a twist of fate she was either left behind by the circus or escaped from the mundane circus to find a laid-back and easy-going life at Govindapalli. She found the home of our Land lord much to her liking and took shelter there. Food was never a problem in the house of a wealthy Brahmin. Nobody chained her, so she had the whole village, surrounding fields and forests to amble about and numerous village mutts to choose from as a suitor. When I saw her she was almost 10 year old. Rocky was from one of her litters. She had littered under a staircase just in front of our door. Rocky was the pick of the litter. All of the pups from her litter were black and white. Other pups were readily picked up or were given away to the acquaintances of our land lords. Rocky did not enter our family so easily. It took its share of pleading, cajoling, persuasion etc. to get Rocky home. Baba had his point. Getting a pet home is nothing short of welcoming a new member to the family who has to be cared and treated well and many such responsibilities that come with a pet. We picked up Rocky after all the deliberations. To Rocky's good fortune he could enjoy the affection of her mother as they lived in the same compound. Rocky looked identical to his mother, except for his drooping ears and stiff long tail. Tommy had a puny and curvy tail. Rocky was an adorable dog. Of all the dogs I have seen or cared for, I can assure, that Rocky was the laziest. Lazy to the extent that I have hardly heard him bark at anyone coming into the compound.
As we started our march with Rocky, Tommy started following. At the end of the village we unleashed Rocky. The end of paddy fields brought us on to the kachha road that physically separates the fields from the forest and skirts the forest in the south. To the north of the road a hill rises abruptly up to a height of about 600 feet from the road. The hill clothed with dense sal forest is known as "Hunkar Dangar". The interesting name of the hill has been coined due to the constant booming whoops that can be heard from the hill. The makers of these whooping noises are none other than the many group of langur monkeys that inhabit the hill. The word "hunkar" in Koraputia loosely translates to whoop or roar. As if to do justice to the name of the hill a troop of langur started their whooping just when we were nearing its base. The road on which we were walking connected the villages of Kamlapadar, Limbapadar and Sadakput etc. to the main Jeypore-Govindapalli road. Beyond the village of Kamlapadar the road fords the Saptadhara river where it is easily fordable in fair weather. But during rains it becomes a raging torrent and people of the villages beyond either use a circuitous road to reach the main road or stay put till the water recedes in the river. In winter the sandy bed of Saptadhara and other such streams of this area are used for cultivation. The sandy bed is called "Atalo" here. A particular variety of Brinjal is grown in the "atalo" here which has a huge demand in the markets of Malkangiri and Jeypore because of their size and taste. One rotund brinjal may weigh close to a kilo, yet they are soft and fleshy. The taste of bharta made from these can turn the strongest detractors of this vegetable into its admirer. Just before the village of Kamlapadar the road bifurcates, the bigger road goes to Kamlapadar and the smaller track leads north and into the forest. We took the latter. The plan was to head north, circumvent the hill and ascend from its northern face. The southern face of Hunkar dangar is nothing but precipitous rock. The whole southern face looked like a huge mass of black granite, sloping at a steep angle. Before entering forest proper Baba briefed us with his instruction. "Now we will be entering the forest. So no talking in loud voices, only in whispers. If you want to draw attention then whistle. If you see any animal, freeze in your tracks"
The narrow track lead us through forest proper. As we entered the woods our anticipation and excitement increased thinking of the prospect of sighting any wild animals. With in few minutes of walking Baba pointed at something that glided from one tree to another and looked like a flying doormat with a bushy tail trailing from it. We had not seen anything of that sort earlier. Just as we stood and watched in awe the object again turned into a flying rug and effortlessly glided to another tree out of sight. Baba asked us in hushed voice"what did you see boys?" We shook our head sideways, having no idea what the animal was. "It was a Flying Squirrel". We were rewarded with the sighting of the very very rare Indian Flying Squirrel. Lady luck was all smiles at us.
The general scenery around was very pleasing to the eyes. The endless shades of green and brown were broken by the pale yellow of the sal leaves. Then, here and there were the more gaily reddish orange petals of " the flame of the forest". This tree is not very numerous in these forests but what they could not achieve with their numbers, they made up for with their colour. They splash the forest with patches of their colorful flowers. Bees, Sunbirds, Flowerpeckers and other nectar loving creatures flock around this tree. The forest resembled more like an unkempt park. The low grass growing here and there were just turning yellow due to the change of season. We were in no hurry and just ambled along the forest path looking around for birds and animals. Baba having spent a lot of his time in the jungles of Koraput knew a great deal about jungle lore. Baba showed us the game trails(rough paths made in grass and undergrowth by passage of wild animals) which may not be so noticeable to a townsman. The game trails tell a lot about the movement of animals. It was in those game trails where Baba taught us how to distinguish between the tracks of a barking deer and wild boar, because the numerous game trails that criss-crossed the park like forest held many different tracks of these two types of animals. In the course of walking around a kilometer we came across the numerous tracks of boar and barking deer, droppings of hare at a place, a heap of barking deer droppings and the remains of a bird which must have been devoured by a carnivore. That was a lot of jungle lore for a mornings outing. But while walking in a forest every step taken is a lesson learnt for green horns like us.
Rocky and Tommy did not walk at our heels. Excited by the surrounding they kept ahead of us. Whenever they were out of sight Baba had to call them back by whistling. Walking in this fashion we reached the foot of the northern face of Hunkar Dangar. Here in the shade of a tree we rested for a while and slaked our thirst with the cold water from the can we were carrying. Then we started our ascent of the hill. As usual Rocky and Tommy galloped ahead. The hill side was covered with dense forest. The bauhinia creeper ran over most of the forest trees forming an impenetrable canopy.
A Racket-tailed Drongo voiced his scolding at us from his perch somewhere up on a thick bauhinia creeper. The season being fall, many of the deciduous trees had shed leaf profusely. Our passage on the leaf litter made a lot of noise and the galloping and frolicking by our quadruped companions added to that. So any animals coming our way was a slim possibility. Rocky wasn't even a year old then. In the excitement of the outing in the forest he ran about pointlessly and spent most of his energy. When the real strenuous task of climbing the hill came his way, he started panting huff and puff. Halfway up the hill and he could not walk any more. No amount of prodding or enticement would make it move. We decided to take a break and partake of our meal which we had carried with us. This we thought will give the much needed break for us and Rocky to regain our breaths. As we started our meal poor Rocky lay down on his flank, panting heavily. We could see him lying on a bed of dried leaves. I tried feeding him a few pieces of paratha, that we were having, but he would not have any of it. This got us really worried. In the mean time Rocky woke up with a start and thud he fell into a small ditch just below the place where he was lying. I could hear only his whimpers. I ran up to the ditch to find a whimpering Rocky rolling from side to side in the leaf filled ditch and trying to get at something on his own belly. It was a comical sight. It took me quite sometime to realize the cause of my pets discomfiture. But soon as i found it, the leaf litter on which our lazy dog was lying turned out to be a colony of red ants, the ants that are known as kai in Koraput and are more famous for the spicy and tangy chutney that is prepared by mashing these ants and their eggs with chilly and a few other condiments. The ants had got the better of our pet and attacked the most vulnerable parts of a dogs anatomy, its belly and genitals which do not grow any fur. I went into the ditch to my dogs rescue and got a few stings myself. Once out of the ditch Rocky kept scratching and whimpering. The red ants only added to woes of an already exhausted dog. Baba made a bowl from bauhinia leaves while I tried to calm him down by caressing his belly. We poured some of our drinking water into it and placed it in-front of Rocky. Rocky drank it to the last drop and made puppy noise asking for more. In went another cup of water. The cold water from the can breathed some life into the dog and it now stood on its quarter. Some pieces of paratha after that, and Rocky was good to go again. We warped up our meal quickly and were on our way again. If one has an eye for it, one can learn a lot of things in a forest. For example that day during our trek we saw a ditch which was freshly dug out. The soil from the ditch sparkled like gold. In a first look at the soil one may be fooled to believe that the soil has gold in it. Baba told us that the soil has crystals of mica. Gold may not occur in a crystal form. Some enterprising villagers dig out this mica crystal. Grind it to a fine powder to mix it with lime or other colored soil and paint their homes. This indigenous hack gives their huts the much needed luster.
I feel I am wandering away from our trek too many times in this writing, at the same time I also feel, being a Koraputia, its my obligation to tell you about things that one may come across while roaming in Koraput. In some little time we reached near the top of the hill. As we neared the summit of the hill the vegetation grew thinner and the sun started peeping harder through the canopy. We could feel its heat now. The top of the hill was a maze of boulders. Boulders of all sizes ranging from a football to a truck were strewn all over the place. The top was almost devoid of big trees except for a few clump of bamboo and other bushes. Under the smaller boulders we found freshly dug out soil. That indicated the handiwork of a sloth bear who must have scratched under the boulders in search of succulent grubs or other such delicacy which the member of bruin race relish. On other boulders we came across fresh scat of sloth bear. We could clearly see undigested seeds of tendu/kendu in the scat. Baba told us to watch around and asked us to follow him. It was nearing mid day and the possibility of a bear being about anywhere in the open was very less. But the two dogs running about and making a lot of noise could unduly attract the attention of any bear or any other animal enjoying a mid day siesta in any of the many caves that lay about in almost all direction. Jumping from boulder to boulder we negotiated a good 100 meters. This brought us to the brow of the hill. The sun was almost overhead and with each passing minute the temperature soared. Standing there we admired the view of forest to the west and north. We could clearly see the serpentine course of Saptadhara and Dharamgarh river in the distance. The two rivers converged around the horizon. To the south, fields around Govindapally shimmered from the rising heat waves of mid day. We saw the southern face of the hill from where we were standing and it became evident that it will be very difficult to descend from that path which was not a path but a precipitous cliff. So we went a little way back on the hill from where we had come and cut a diagonal way down the western side of the hill which seemed a more easier thing to do. As we found later the diagonal path we took was not a very easy one either. The hill side was not as steep as the one we had avoided but was not very easy to descend nonetheless. Finding a foot hold on the gravely surface was little scary experience. The hill side had no bushes to hold on to. The bigger trees were the only ones to rely on. Baba identified to us the many ghost trees that grew around. These trees stood out among the other trees of the forest due to their pale whitish bark. With measured steps we could climb down half way and from there the descent became easier till the foot of the hill. The two dogs were waiting for us on the road, reaching there much ahead of us. From there we quickened our pace back to home. To wear off the exhaustion we took a dip in a hill stream that had been dammed among the paddy fields. It was almost half past noon when we reached home, tired and exhausted. The festivities of holi had come to an end in the village.
Now when I look back at those days I am filled with a mixed emotions. The feeling of having spent some wonderful time in those forests is something that I want to cherish. The situation prevailing in those parts these days, fills me with grief and concern. The area has undergone a radical change since the time we lived there. Left wing extremists took over the whole area soon after we left Govindapalli. The natives taking the advantage of the law and order situation had a free run of the place and destroyed miles of these beautiful forests and poached countless animals that lived there. Forest protection became an exercise merely confined to the files and folders of the department. Movement of outsiders in these forests today is a risky affair. An outsider roaming in these forests is at the risk of getting heckled by both the side, the police or the extremists. To go on a hike in these jungles today is an endeavour with considerable risk to ones life and belongings. Because death lurks there in the form of a bullet or a land mine waiting to go off. In spite of its share of threat, as a grown up youth, I have gone into different parts of these forests whenever opportunity has afforded, just for the sake of my love for these jungles where I have spent some of my most memorable days. But the peace and joy that one experiences on those wanderings is not all the same. Fear accompanied me on these later occasions. A father taking his two adolescent kids for a hike along the forest paths around Govindapalli is something that one can not even imagine today. I have related about some of my recent hikes in these forests somewhere earlier in this blog. The signs of animals is getting fewer by the day and birds are holding on to an ever contracting forest. The ghat whose winding roads and tall trees were our favourite haunts, is now the haunt of red rebels and the security forces who are camped there to counter them. The steep climb up from Kasigada bridge where Baba has come across a beautiful male leopard many a times, now overlooks a BSF camp heavily guarded by armed sentries and it is lit up by bright flood lights at night. I don't see the Emerald doves at the cool and damp ravine near Mantriamba any more. A huge crater on the road greeted me instead of the doves. The crater was the result of a heavy explosion of an IED which claimed the lives of a few jawans. The familiar sal trees which were landmarks for us due to their colossal size are not there anymore. Some of them were felled by Naxalites to block the road and some were felled because they were coming in the way of a wide road that was passing through the forest.
They said prosperity will walk through these roads !
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| Road To Jeypore |
Note : Neither I nor my family possessed a camera at that time. I have used a few photos in this blog which have been taken much later around 2010 in the same area by me. Though the places I have written about lie in present day Malkangiri district I refer to them as Koraput as a matter of personal choice as they were part of Un-divided Koraput district which was one of the largest districts of India.
Awesome read Parth. The feeling of pride about your roots is not an easy thing to write. Because pride cannot be pen down that easily. But your post nailed it. Will share it as I feel many should read and come out with their amazing journeys in life.
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