Far far from the madding crowd – Paderu part I

As we drove along the ghat road, the smell of damp wood and mud filled the air. It had rained not too long ago. Trees in the ghats, pine and fir, let rainwater flow off of their leaves. Velvet green moss grew on the aluminium railings, eating away at the yellow and black paint. Flowers bloomed and bent over unable to bear the weight of water which the showers filled them with. Streams of rainwater trickled down, dodging fallen trees and branches, wetting the mud – making clay.

The black tar of the road glistened as if it had just been laid and flattened and similarly did leaves and flowers glisten. The rain did much to add some shine.

Quite soon, animals began coming out of their homes. Mammals and birds shook themselves dry while crickets and frogs competed to be loud. Soon enough the forest was filled with a variety of sounds – the cacaphony of birds, insects and frogs. Snakes slithered by, some coiled themselves around branches, some along the railings, yet others unwittingly crossed the path of speeding vehicles, losing their lives at the altar of mindless human rush.

The sun set, unnoticed until it was too dark to ignore. The road then started seeming dangerous. The black night, unlit by streetlights, seemed to lead into an abyss. Only then did I realise how precarious our position was. One wrong turn would lead to instant death. Luckily, a little further I caught a glimpse of dim yellow lights – the kind you would come across in a village.

Welcome to Paderu.

Work stops by six o’clock, families have dinner by eight o’clock and shops shut within a half an hour thence. The entire village sleeps by nine o’clock. Around the shady corners you may chance upon a lone man clad in a grey lungi, sitting on his haunches next to a freshly started fire, puffing on a beedi.

The damp climate adds to the heavy silence engulfing the town, subtly nudging you to hurry home, to tuck yourself comfortably under blankets.

To be continued.

Chaparai – rediscovering humanity part I

Hyderabad

Under Begumpet flyover is an Urban Homeless Shelter run by an NGO. Residents of the Homeless shelter are given bedding and are required to arrange food for sustenance by themselves. They need to register with the NGO by providing all relevant details. Most of them are unemployed youth or aged men eking out a living some way or the other.

On speaking with them for a while a few months ago, some of them told over chai that not even their kin provided them with lodging for free. As they narrated stories of migration from various parts of the country to Hyderabad in search of employment and income generation only to find out that cities eat away at the hearts of humans leaving them devoid of humanity itself, I found myself dejected. Somewhere deep in my heart originated a sinking feeling about where the pull-effect of cities and urban economies is leading us.

Chaparai

After Ranajilleda Waterfalls our next destination was Chaparai. By this time I had made up my mind to live with the tribal community there.

As soon as we made our way close to the stream that flowed down from the hills, the delicious aroma of a blend of spices being cooked in bamboo over white-hot coal wafted towards us. We made our way through the jana-samudram to the very first stall and found out that it was the smell of “bongulo chicken”. My friends were excited and immediately began haggling – we were students after all and had to save every rupee we could! Being a vegetarian, I lost interest in the delicacy and started scouting the marketplace along the banks of Chaparai Waterfalls for any vegetarian food.

Groundnuts! I glimpsed an old lady selling groundnuts and that immediately drew me over. I soon slipped into a conversation while having groundnuts I purchased from her and in the due course of conversation told her of my intention to stay in the village with them. She looked elated, but soon enough, her face fell and she said “You city kids cannot live in our houses. They are far to small and far too uncomfortable for you. You wouldn’t even want to share a meal with us!”. Her statement pained me. I probed further and found out that less than a week prior to us having this conversation another group of tourists had come saying the same thing and had left cursing the old lady. She was reluctant to let us in.

I hesitated to pursue the issue any further but my heart would heed none of what my head said. I cajoled her and wheedled out information on who had room to let seven of us stay. Thus I first met Lakshmi akka. She showed me the place she could set aside for us and immediately said that she would give us mattresses to sleep on. I joyfully assented.

Little did we know that winter in Araku could be so cruel. The chilling cold crept into my bones from the floor right through the mattresses. Worse yet, I wasn’t carrying anything that could keep me warm. I barely slept that night.

Soon it was dawn and Nanda woke me up. I wanted to stay wrapped in the only blanket there was. Her persistent efforts got me off of the mattress and onto my feet. All of us changed into day clothes and were soon making our way towards the waterfall. Five minutes from the shanty we lived in was our destination and soon enough we were there.

A number of rocks had lodged themselves into the soil and the flowing stream was eating away at them slowly. The gravel under our feet tickled and the water swept us off balance. We discovered that walking against the current was impossible for us. Some of us, including me, made our way up the rocks. Somewhere higher up, amidst larger rocks, I safely sat down and put my feet into the cool stream. I was staring into the empty sky when something hit my foot. I looked down and found a buffalo skull. I was used to it since I had come across buffalo carcasses in various stages of decomposition at HCU, so I picked it up with a stick and flung it down towards my friends without warning. Their shrieks of alarm were worth witnessing! “Aartanaadamulu shravanaanandakaramuga unnavi” Ghatotkacha with SV Rangarao’s voice boomed in my head and found expression as a grin on my face .

To be continued when words flow like a stream.