The vanayatra was part of the environmental camp. Some ten to twelve people – among them three women. The journey started early in the morning. Light started oozing slowly through the hill ranges. It was still dark inside the forest. Rain created problems, the leeches became a major hassle. The journey included all the amenities; food packets, drinking water, first-aid material and the honorary leadership of ranger Muhammad Haneefa. Two guards accompanied us for extra help.

He started to pant after two kilometers of the walk. His knees were painful. Muhammad Haneefa said, “We are crossing the buffer zone now. The three sections of the wild life sanctuary are tourism, buffer and core. The total extent is 285 square kilometers. From that, approximately two thousand five hundred kilometers are kept aside for the sanctuaries and national parks.”

Mohammad Haneefa was a well built man, complete baldness hadn’t affected his youthfulness. He was quite energetic. There was, always, a defensive expression on his face. Even though in a lowered voice, he talked steadily. While walking, he looked at the forest under his control, the way a wild beast does.

“There are strict regulations in the buffer-core zones. We shifted the adivasis from here. No one will enter this place without our permission and presence. In the core area, human presence is strictly prohibited, but for research purposes.”

With the rule preventing smoking, he was distressed. Already it was time for his fourth or fifth cigarette. It was raining cats and dogs and quite cold. The inner forest was drenched. The real silence was the silence of the gigantic trees. In the oozing light, the wetness seemed like moonlight. Apart from the soft chatter of Mohammad Haneefa, there weren’t any other sounds. Occasionally some bird chirruping and there was the voice of the wind in the trees. A lot of streams had appeared in the rain. The flowing water followed them like soft music.

Haneefa said there were many tigers in the forest. Wild buffalos were aplenty. In a camera taken in recently by the forest department, a leopard’s picture was seen. There were rare varieties of birds. The Malabar Whistling Thrush, which is found only in the Silent Valley, was seen here too these days. Also, the Srilankan Frogmouth, Grey headed bulbul and some 500 more species were found here.

“This area is full of evergreen forests, semi evergreen forests and leaf shedding forests. Core area is mostly tropical forests. During summer, there is a shortage of water in the buffer zone. The animals will travel kilometers for water. Sometimes they create trouble in the villages. We have made one hundred ponds inside the range. This is one such pond. We can sit here for a while; a little rest for the backbone.”

Again walk. Small hills started to appear. It was quite slippery. One had to be really careful not to slip in the wet soil and stones. The cold wind was bothersome.

Haneefa said, “By noon we will climb this mountain and reach Thannikkudi. We have an outstation there. We will have food and rest. If the boat is in order, we are saved. We can come back through the reservoir. But mostly, that boat is in repair.

Government deal, isn’t it? Bureaucracy. If that is the case, we will walk all the way back. Whichever way, we will reach the wireless station before six thirty. Since it is a reserved forest, motor transport is prohibited at night. We can go back in the morning.”

He had not slept last night and was tired. He had spent the night in the sanctuary’s dormitory. It was past midnight when the seminar and group discussion were over. He wasn’t sleepy afterwards, and had sat in the verandah outside. A night in the deep forest! Loneliness. Looking back, there was a huge void. Why had he come this far? He was bored.

While climbing the mountain, he told Haneefa, panting: “Sir, please excuse me. I want to go back in the afternoon bus. Please let me go now.”

Haneefa stopped. He was indecisive for a while and then said: “Alone? That won’t work. “

He didn’t agree. “It is ok sir, I will manage.”

“My friend, this is like swimming in the sea. Once you leave the land, the time and space is not normal. If you get yourself lost somewhere, you will never know where you will reach. It is also possible that you won’t reach anywhere at all.”

After being silent for some time, Haneefa continued: “Okay. You can go at your own risk. Please remember one thing. The streams are flowing northward in the way we came by. Some seven kilometers north, you will find the reservoir. If you feel that you have lost your way, wait near any pond. Ponds are our landmarks. Okay. Good luck. God bless you.”

“If that is the case, I will also tag along. I have a hundred things to do after reaching the town. It is good if I can reach there before sunset,” Mrs Sumitra Rao said. He was surprised by that.

“Take care not to have heated arguments. The major problem our forests face today is the forest fire,” someone commented. Everyone laughed. Downhill was worse than uphill. One should take great care. Sumitra Rao needed his help. The touch of a strange body disturbed him. She had used a musk scented perfume. After a half-an-hour-long adventure, they reached the level ground. It had been difficult to find the pathways in the forest. Why did this woman come along, he thought angrily. While walking, she said: “I have high BP. But I forget everything when it comes to the forest and nature. This body is a big problem. If I think about it, then there is neither world nor the universe for me.” She laughed.

“I was thoroughly bored. That ranger’s math and statistics! If I listened to that, I could never see the forest. I was reminded of the first standard classroom in school. Also, I felt like talking to you for a while. Your opinions are quite crooked. Clever presentation! I know that it is not your original thoughts. But it is well organized. These kinds of reactions come up from all over Kerala these days.”

He did not reply. He remembered yesterday’s debate. It had rained heavily while Sumitra Rao presented her paper. It is an old topic- ‘Environment and Development.’

The noisy rain compelled her to raise her voice to the maximum. Her voice was on the defensive. Loud speakers were not allowed inside the wild life sanctuary auditorium.

He had participated in the open forum after her presentation. He was very calm while talking about certain issues. He opined that there needed to be a rethinking on environmental issues, post Copenhagen geo conference. In Copenhagen, the world was divided along the lines of colonialism and survival. Like the old proverb said: ‘The hungry are in need of a plate; the contented are in need of a bed.’ The rich nations sought to forget the past and to create a new order of things. The truth was that the past was not going anywhere. Like the common demand of the upper castes, ‘from now on, we don’t need caste system, hence we don’t need reservations’, there were a set of nations who were single-handedly responsible for the looting of resources and thus leading us to global warming. They were asking the under developed nations to reduce the development process. Here, the unresolved issues included basic needs like food, drinking water, habitat, elementary education, health care and transportation.

In India too, when it came to development, the opinions of the rich and the poor were varied. In the urban spaces, when we used fridge, air conditioner and cars, one ought to remember that there still were villages in India without electricity. How will we evaluate the efforts to get at least a single bulb glowing in each hut? One should notice that the problems always started when development almost reached the subaltern.

In the environmental debates in Kerala were involved an upper-caste logic and aesthetic.

Once he had finished, there was a slight silence. The rain was also over. But later, it became clear that it was the silence before a great storm. Sumitra Rao stood up to answer. He noticed the red sindoor falling from her forehead, making her nose appear red. She took her spectacles off, wiped them with her dupatta, and put them back on again. A sarcastic smile spread on her face. “What I heard now is the noise of a pickaxe. I am clear that to cut down the trees, you use an axe, not a pickaxe. The reason for me to use the word pickaxe is Anand’s ‘Book of Destruction’. It is the sign of the one who ritually buries human beings. The story argues that pickaxe is now the symbol of the modern working class. I am not going to respond to the weird arguments. I am trying to explain a section in my paper which went unexplained. I should have said that the new age patriarchy is raising its axe against nature, just like it does towards women.

The argument, environment is unimportant when compared with development, is an old one. It come from the male viewpoint. It is not coincidental. This life-giving nature and the human being at its distant corner was formed as a coincidence. The result of some accidental combinations! Our biodiversity! We have understood that in the moon and millions of other planets, there is no life form. If the proportions go wrong, that is the end of it all. The Earth too will become a wasteland, revolving pointlessly like other globes; No doubt about it. Then there is no forest, no household. No hut to light a light bulb. All I am saying is, the environmental activities cannot go forward without attacking these kinds of male chauvinisms.

Copenhagen, my foot!”

Even though she sat down, he felt that she was still growling like the sea. He had only heard about a face on fire. This was exactly like that.

“The water is really cold”, she said, while walking.

“When I was a kid, on the way to school, there were a lot of small streams. I could see bright little fishes. Just remembered that now.”

“I have a big dream. To live in a forest like this, away from all the busy schedules - One with nature; Innocent like an animal; I want to drink from the streams, I want to eat the wild fruits. Do you really think that the forest animals will come and eat us? No. Every animal has its own food. Only humans fry anything and everything in masala. Are you a vegetarian?”

“Not particularly.”

“Why a vague reply?”

She laughed out loudly. “See how correct our organic system is. To protect the earth, there is vegetation.

Then there are the herbivores that live on that. To control their number, there are the carnivores. I am telling you, it is safer here. There, if you want to survive accidents, you need god’s grace. Then there is the life satisfaction. We have such great misunderstandings regarding that.”

“Call Mr Rao as well. Live your last days here,” he said.

She closed her eyes and smiled.

“There is nobody like that, my friend. It’s a drama house without actors. It’s almost like that.”

They talked and walked.

“Have you heard of Kalladikkodan Mount in Palghat? Our ancestral home was in its valley. We have blood relations with the Zamorins. A real feudal setup! Lot of land, mansion and servants. Now there is nothing of that sort though. Most of the land was gone in the land reforms. The rest was sold off to a Muslim. Everyone parted ways. I too traveled a lot. I don’t know why, I don’t know where all.”

“There was a huge pond in our compound. I was in it all the time during holidays. After shifting to the town, one cannot get drenched in the rains. Look now! We have been walking in the rain for a long time. Is there any problem? Only the weight of these wet clothes. I am happier if that too is gone.” She laughed.

The rain had washed the seriousness off her face. Eyes lit up under her shaped brows. She tied her wet hair. A drop of water was getting ready to fall from the tip of her nose.

He had heard about Sumitra Rao; A prominent figure among the aggressive environmentalists. She was actively involved in most movements. Earlier, she wrote in English journals. He thought she was from Andhra. Recently, a lot of write-ups and interviews appeared in Malayalam. She also appeared on television sometimes. But he had not recognized her when he saw her yesterday.

He had reached yesterday afternoon. It was a long bus ride. Sivadasan from the University had agreed to join. He was ready for it due to his desire to see the forest with some company. He was fascinated by the idea of two days in a forest without mobile phones, internet and newspapers. Last day, Sivadasan backed off. He gave him the exact directions. Forest checkpost. From there, half an hour to reach the bus stand. ‘The volunteers from the Green Group will wait for you in the bus stand.’ – said the mail. When he reached there, there were no volunteers, no war. Everything was calm.

The two shots he had from the Bar had made him nearly high. He slipped a bit while getting down from the bus. Thankfully, he did not fall. There was a drizzle. The ground was slippery. The drinking habit was odd these days. Sometimes, it did hit him, no matter how much he drank. Sometimes, all of a sudden, the world in front of him disappeared. There was no space between these two. He was losing his refuges one after the other, he thought.

He stood clueless in the bus stand when he met her for the first time. He did not recognize her. He found nothing which was worthy of a bus stand – just an open space. Four or five wood plank-tin sheet shops nearby. The place was more or less deserted. Even the opened shops were empty. Rain started pouring down heavily. It was only the sound of the rain falling on the tin sheets. In the faded vision through the rains, he saw her standing on a shop verandah on the other side. An unusually tall woman. There was a certain seriousness on her face suited to her age. She did not turn her face or look at him.

When the rain stopped, she walked out. He followed, leaving a little space between them. Luckily, they found the signpost towards the wild life hostel. It was a narrow tarred road, spiraling through the forest. It was slightly steep. Inside the thick cotton kurtha, he could see her slightly plump body swaying. There was a silver anklet on her wet feet. When he stopped to light a cigarette, she walked ahead.

“Please wait.”

Sumitra Rao called from behind. While crossing a waist-deep stream, she was left behind a little. She called out.

“You, like your ideas, are not nice. Can’t you consider that I am a middle-aged woman? Can’t you wait for me?”

He smiled.

“I have crossed my middle age too madam. Which means, the buffer zone is almost over. Now the only core area is left. Calm old age.”

He waited and looked at her wet feet under the rolled up pajamas. Even though she had no ornaments on her neck or ears, he noticed curiously once again that she had anklets. Her face was tired and dark. “God, I can’t walk for one more inch. I am going to sit somewhere here.” She sat down at a nearby grassy patch.

“Near our flat in Secundrabad, there was a park and a playground. In the evenings, we used to walk for an hour. After coming here, there is nothing of that sort.”

It was noon. Light waved above the branches. But on the other side, there were signs of another bout of rain. Making the trees sway, a wind blew. In an hour, they could get out of the forest.

She said: “Evergreen forests remind me of dinosaurs. Early forest life. Gymnosperms, Algaes.”

She lay down on the grass.

“When you think about conventional Lefts, I pity you. What are you trying to establish through your crooked arguments? When somebody is discussing about nature, you will talk about upper caste domination. While discussing literature, you will ask for the political stand. If the salt becomes costly, you will blame globalization. Two hartals a week, like a ritual. One bandh per month. Meetings are held after blocking the roads. My God! What strange characters. Just think, how long will this earth survive?”

He did not respond. He was tired of debates. She continued.

“It is believed that all life forms were destroyed from the face of the earth at least five times till now. After long intervals, due to God’s grace, life reappeared. Dinosaurs disappeared in one such phase of destruction. Like today’s human beings, they were once the emperors of the earth. They might have tried to create their own imaginary world on this nature. I don’t know whether they had Arts, Sciences, Astrophysics and B T Brinjal!

She laughed out loud.

Rain started in a beat. It started slowly and became heavy. Forests were caught in a wild madness. Nothing was visible. Rain invaded the eyes and the ears. He felt as if he was getting bruised by the water. Sumitra Rao sat down, hiding her head between her knees. Suddenly, water started flowing fiercely. Mud and Dry leaves flew out from somewhere. He was scared that the water would take them away from where they were sitting. He held her close. He could feel the shiver of that soft plump body.

When the rain subsided, she said: “Oh, I was shivering. My body has gone through a lot of battles. Two caesareans and a uterus removal!”

She walked towards the stream, looking like a mad woman, with dirt smeared on her body and clothes. Behind a small shrub, she got ready to take a bath, taking off all her clothes. Through the blades of grass, the wild brown shade of her body was visble. He thought about bodies; their marvelous heights and troughs; their wet changes; those which were central to life once. He had come a long way. The festivals were all over. It was almost like fresh sprouts in a destroyed planet.

She called. “Come here. Take bath in this water. You will be fresh.” When he was near her, she said:

“This water is not cold, it is hot.”

He said, “You are beautiful, even without your clothes.”

“Really?”

She was lying in the stream. He felt that the female body was infinite. She asked:

“Does this body, battered by age and disease, attract you?”

“Absolutely”

He said.

Time went by. It was almost sundown. The forest was filled with the noises of birds on the way back to their nests. Over the stream, in a dim light, tiny bugs started flying. In a while, they filled the entire place. She was sitting there, leaning on to him, with her head bent down. The loose hair and its wetness spread all over her face and her body. He felt a great love towards her. He asked, “What? Are you feeling guilty?” “Never. That word is not in my dictionary.”

She said.

“Sex is just a resting point. There is nothing before or after that. Your patriarchal world has created many imaginary empires based on that. The meaning of life. Exact turning point. It is not that great. It doesn’t even let you forget anything.”

Her face faded. She did not talk after that. She washed her clothes in the stream and put them back on.

They heard footsteps from the forest. The Vanayatra team was returning. Mohammad Haneefa’s words could be heard clearly. He whispered to her.

“Tell them, we lost our way.”

by Ashokan Charuvil translated by Prabha Zacharias