Kanha-VII

Next morning we headed early for some place known as Sarhi. It was the third gateway, the other two being Kisli and Mukki, which led to the forest of Kanha and we were informed that it was a completely new, unexplored territory which had been opened only one month back. Few tourists even knew of its existence. The morning brought with it biting cold and none felt the snug security of sweaters enough to ward off the fierce freeze. It was literally chilly, jaw-rattlingly at that. Another jacket put on the already clumsy looking piles of woolen-wear that were us, we tip-toed out to the veranda outside our dormitory. It was still dark outside. We had to press the torches into action to navigate our way to the canteen to have our morning tea. That put in more vigor into us instantly ( this Central-Indian tea is markedly different from the variety we have here in Kolkata. Its actually all milk, and practically no-water stuff). We had our breakfast packed from the kitchen and as the other gypsies started to line-up at the gate, we jumped onto ours, waiting for the gate-lifting ceremony patiently. Every one looked raring to go. After all it was our last morning trip in the jungle. Every one wanted to make it a memorable one. As the gate opened gypsies started to move in and onto our car jumped in a familiar figure. He was the same person who had prescribed the efficacious 'jadi-booti' for Baeka the previous afternoon. And today he had come mentally prepared to handle 'the situation'. He insisted strongly that he sit alone, beside the driver, pre-empting any proximity to Baeka which could trigger another rapid-fire round of questions. Four of us were uncomfortably packed into the rear row of seats. But then, Raju guide (that was his name) looked determined this morning and we had to 'adjust'.

Easing into the meadows we could not believe our eyes. The familiarity of their faded green had vanished from them and a sea of mist had settled most condescendingly on top of the grass. It was as if we were inside a completely different forest in a completely different time. Raju was narrating to us how 27 villages, including his, had to be rehabilitated outside the forest margins to set up this Park. Lots of fertile tracts went waste and people suffered. Then, of course, the Govt. came to their aid and nowadays all was well with the villagers. In between sympathising for their plight we were discussing, in hushed tones, how the forest held back so many of its appearances just for the 'effect', so it seemed. And yet, it never failed to inspire awe with recurring novelty. Grand!

The roads familiar to us through the previous trips were now fast replacing some uncharted paths. The colours of the trees were different. The leaves a profusion of hues, some autumn red, some fresh green, at places deep-green left us fascinated. And yet, the marvel of the forest would not end. As we moved deeper into the forest and the Sun yawned in its first rays of light into the setting, everything seemed to have come to a stand-still just to witness this spectacle. Wherever we looked we saw an ocean of mist, far-stretched and imposing, rippling forward riding the waves of sunlight which had just recently invaded its slumber. And then what met our eyes made me think 'Heaven is here' and nowhere else could it be. Lodged on top of a small pool, we could not decide as to which side held a better view as both made us feel deprived, even for a second's delay in noticing them.

On our left, perched on a rock were two Adjutant Storks, spreading their wings to emulate flight and showing us in this process its complete wing-span. Black and beautiful. On the right the sight of a single long tree, dead and leafless, lodged against the backdrop of the faraway ranges covered in a cloud of mist and fog met our eyes. All along our way grandeur of the morning-forest had captivated us so much that we had been completely unaware of the killing-cold accompanying us. Running noses and frozen palms became the topic of discussion now and speculation was rife regarding the temperature. We had no way of knowing that. The chill was near complete. It breached every piece of clothing we had assiduously put on and pierced our very marrows. There was hardly any difference between Kanha and Kanchenjunga here, we felt.

The Sun was starting to reclaim its territory now, its rays pervading space and diffusing warmth. We saw a herd of cheetals stand up in alarm, their ears pointed in one single direction, feeling the air for danger. Kudai Dadar, as this place was called, had all the makings of a Topobon (meditation ground), where saints must have come in quest for salvation and truth. Moreover, I personally felt that this place could surely make saints out of ordinary men, even rogues. It had that quality of overwhelming purity in it. It had a sense of compelling divinity that was captivating and yet was so powerful that it could subjugate hearts and minds with a sensual persuasion, both subtle and alluring. We saw a tree resplendent with bright red fruits, hanging in bunches. Raju told us it was the Sinduri tree, used by tribal women as vermilion. The opulent crimson of the flowers was further magnified by the generosity of the sun shining on them.

When the Sun looked in complete control of the morning, we went back to Center-point for tea and snacks. Many foreigners were spreading out their elaborate breakfast outdoors. It looked as if there was a banquet of sorts commencing in the jungle. And most unfortunately, we were the only spectators to it. Our guide found out from others that the mercury had dipped to touch 0-degrees in the morning. Again ignorance had saved us the panic that this little information could have caused, if known earlier during the trip. Now, we could appreciate why it had been so bone-chillingly cold in the open. That gave us the shivers afresh. After having some samosas and bread-pakoras the six of us went in to see the museum as Chetan looked out for some of his work-related information in the vicinity. Inside the museum, we saw a documentary on Kanha and another one which showed a forest guard who escaped an attack by two young tigers. Another showed how one of the ranger's skull was almost ripped open by a sloth-bear. Both had made narrow escapes and were still very much alive and serving the forest. After lazing around and having a second round of tea from our now famous 'common-fund' we decided it was time we headed for Sarhi, our original destination.

The road to Sarhi was pristine, appealing and almost unexplored as promised. The long grass on the road was ample proof of its untrodden status till now. It was a long journey, but without the climb or turns of the road to Bahmni Dadar. Instead, on both sides were forest-brooks lined with boulders and little mounds on which grew a thin variety of wild-bamboo. Some were dried white and were in stark contrast to the otherwise rich green scenery. After an hour or so we ascertained that we were at a considerable altitude as the foothills of Vindhyas were visible. The hills were covered with greenery and housed Neelgais, the biggest of the Indian antelopes, we were told. We finally got a glimpse of a big herd of Neelgais but, the tall grass hindered our view. The guide told us that as they were totally unaccustomed to human presence they were extremely shy and ran away from our gypsy. Finally out of the Sarhi-gate we could come down from the car. Then, we headed for Bichhiya, a small suburb where we would have our lunch in some local Dhaba. They were dime a dozen according to Raju. We rode through a village from where Raju hailed. He came back in a while from his home and next stop was a Dhaba. While the food was being ordered, one by one everyone of us made a routine call back home as others explored the adventure of sitting on a charpoy. The anda-curry was all red-hot inflammable but, with no other option at hand, the curry was 'managed' with some lemon garnishing. An hour or so and we were heading back into the forest for the evening-trip. Life was becoming hectic but this was our last tryst with the forest and we braced ourself with the hope of seeing a tiger. Rajenbhai, as efficient as he is, quickly took us through the villages to Sarhi . Only once did we stop at Raju's field from where he picked some pea-plants and thrust onto our laps. We were half-way making a 'neat job' out of it when Avik started complaining that the shrub had started causing 'serious irritation' on his arms and legs. Quickly they were disposed off. I, Harry and Baeka, the ever curious ones in the group utilised this delay to explore further and asked for some water at Raju's place which was at a stone's throw. As hospitable as one could be, he made us sit inside his hut and rushed inside to bring some water. It was a nicely made up place. Neat and homely. He brought us water which was as cool as the ones we drink out of the water-cooler in our college. Soon we were inside the forest and anticipation was running high inside us.

On our return-trip we first came face to face with a gigantic bison. It stared at us for a while and then moved away nonchalantly. At one place we waited for while, Raju all ears to the monkeys calling at a distance. A gypsy came from the front and reported alarm calls. We moved forward and Raju inferred that we were very close to the tiger. It must be looking to cross the road to go to the water-hole on the other side, he said. For the next 20 minutes we were ricocheting back and forth in search of the elusive tiger. Then, suddenly, Raju called out, "Tiger, tiger!...... yehi pe thhaa..... uss taraf chala gaya....gaari pichhe lo..". Alu and Dudu approved of this claim as they too had seen a young one coming out of the thickets to cross the road. Startled by the sound of our gypsy approaching, it had gone right back to the safety of its familiar surroundings, thus, robbing us of a 'priceless sighting'.

Though we missed the tiger, we saw a rare sight sometime later, a Barasingha, true to its name i.e The Indian Swamp Deer, was chomping on aquatic weeds in knee-deep water. We also saw a herd of bison crossing the road. They are an imposing emblem of strength and and just their sight can set one's pulse racing. But, to our good fortune we found all of them in good humor and they went about chomping on their quota of grass without any fuss. Finally as the sun was setting behind the Vindhyas, we spotted a wild-cat walking by the road. Baeka informed us that it was quite a rare sight. The tour till date had been great and undoubtedly something to cherish for the rest of our lives. The forest, in its multifarious colours and forms had presented itself before our eyes and fashioned the canvas of our minds with relentless vigor and subliminal finesse at every step. It had inspired and intimidated us, enthralled and enamored us. Though now the time had come to bid the forest a somber goodbye and look back at its chained gate with little regret and complete contentment we were all looking for an 'encore' in the near future.


Next Stop - Jabalpur.

to be continued...................................