Financial Daily from THE HINDU group of publications Wednesday, Feb 11, 2004 |
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Domestic Travel Columns - Reflections Soaking the spirit of the forest P. Devarajan
FOR me the best spot in Melghat forest is the Raipur range. An uneven, dusty, 15-km stone track leads anyone to the place from Semadoh, and the difficult access keeps most away. Once you reach the spot, there is something about its breathing that back-pedals you into a past without abandoning the present when some considerate Englishmen tried to map its remoteness. There still roam their gutsy spirits and descend on any observer who eases himself into the comfy cane armchairs laid out on the portico of the Raipur Range Rest House. The Rest House, going by the markings on the stone wall, is 555.96 metres above MSL and was built in 1892 and specially repaired in 1963. The 112-year-old Rest House, with wooden roofs and floors intact, has no ego and does not speak its age or breed. There is no electricity and one hopes the Forest Department drops plans to lay power lines or even a tar road. An abandoned fireplace in the bedroom is the lone unused item. Up front is a fig tree, as old as the Rest House, and is some sort of a club for birds when it is in fruit, and Kishor has sighted owls and hornbills in that area. Behind the Rest House is a water hole providing assured comfort to hornbills, going by the word of the forest guards. In December, one spent a night there, but this time round had a few hours for a walk. We came to Raipur from the Kolkas Guest House, which has been done up to suit the plastic tastes of Indian forestry officials and who, given a chance, would cement every forest. From the guest house, one can have a faraway view of a water body with plenty of teak and silk cotton trees around. Two to four Brahminy ducks paddled in the not-too-deep waters. From nowhere flew in a white-necked stork to be followed by a second. From where we stood and watched with binoculars, it was hard to identify the sex of the birds, but they seemed to be a couple from the way they played around on the brown forest floor. One of them placed a long blackish bill into the other and for a few minutes they stuck to each other, promising love and togetherness forever. Vivek Bendre and Nishibhau clicked a few shots; Vivek's pictures have come out well, given the distance. By four in the evening on Sunday, we were speeding out in the green Gypsy of Kishor, dwelling over the next chance to get into Melghat as the forest grows over you, like some deep desire. As the Gypsy curved down the ghat road, the Satpuda Range stretched out into Madhya Pradesh on one side and deep into Maharashtra on the other, making it probably as distinct as the Western Ghats. The setting sun, like a giant gas balloon, hung on vainly before bidding goodbye for the day. While filling the tank near Parathwada, Nishibau pointed to a pair of rose-ringed parakeets, softly pecking each other on a neem tree to the attendance of four langurs from a second neem tree. The passing lorry and auto traffic did not trouble them. Would the younger generation be able to come across such happenings, with a heartless Vajpayee Government having decided to mop up forest land from animals and trees, the original stake holders. But the Vajpayee Government will have to fight hard against the younger generation before replacing forests with dams and roads. If a survey is made, Amravati district could be the lone district in India housing the largest number of dedicated youngsters keen on keeping Satpuda pristine. The Satpuda Foundation and the Nature Conservation Society have been able to pass on the pleasures and anxieties of a forest life to boys and girls in schools and colleges and quite a few are keen on becoming foresters. To aid them is the Amravati University with its Department of Zoology, open from 6 a.m. to 8 p.m. every day, including Sundays, to accommodate anyone's desire to understand animals and their homes. Taking the lead is the taciturn head of the department, Dr G.N. Vankhede, who has not taken a day off. He is there to help and taking us round the department, he explains its status without making any huge claim. "In our campus, a cobra or a viper is common occurrence. We are into studying tiger scat supplied by the Forest Department to get a feel of the lives of tigers," says the professor, quite surely on the heavy side. Perhaps the game is not yet over.
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