What a temple can do to a forest | Business Line

What a temple can do to a forest

The faith of multitudes is setting out an increasingly difficult challenge for forests, wildlife and wildlife management 

August 11, 2015:  

I’m in the Mundanthurai part of the Kalakad-Mundanthurai Tiger Reserve, standing on a rocky outcrop looking over the River Karayar and the Sorimuthian temple that stands by it. The waters that come cascading down the mountains form shallow pools just below me before they gurgle quickly past and beyond the temple. Some pilgrims sit meditatively in the shallow pools of clear water; others are engaged in boisterous fun. 

A gust of cool breeze blows through on the hot afternoon, and a man on a rocky patch in the middle holds up his wet saffron dhoti that flutters in the wind like a giant flag. A group of women is fast asleep under the shade of a giant tree along the temple road and a couple of men are cooking a meal on make-shift stoves a short distance away.

The temple complex, as I enter it, is more empty than full. Two rows of people are sitting along the edges of a patchily lit corridor, waiting to be served their afternoon meal. I take a couple of quick pictures, turn the corridor to face the lord, do a quick namaskaram and walk along the wall to the back. There’s more activity in the adjoining temple here. 

An old man standing by the side gestures to me to come over: “I’m from Tirunelveli”, he says, “but settled in Madurai”; this is the temple of their family deity. “That side is non-veg” he says pointing to his right, “our side is veg.” 

We smile as our attention is drawn to a mother and a grandmother doting over their little infant who’s quite enjoying the wash she’s being given. The grandmother fills water in the cup of her hands and pours them over the little one, who looks happy and contended. 

The women notice their little one’s being admired, and proud shy smiles light up their faces. As I turn around to leave, another little infant is being brought in by another proud family.

Adi-amavasai festival

I pause and look around to take in the scene — the surrounding hillsides are clothed in thick forests that are rich in diverse species of flora and fauna; the Karayar flows fast and smooth by the temple — before it joins the Tambaraparani, a lifeline to the teeming masses of the Tirunelveli plains below, and the small crowd that’s milling around here appears to be minding its own business. 

It’s not ‘tranquil’ here, but the atmosphere is certainly comfortable and relaxed. It is, I am told however, like a calm before the coming storm — the 11 day long festival that is celebrated here in the Tamil month of Adi, with adi-amavasai (new moon, August 14 this year) being the most important. It’s a festival that’s become increasingly popular over the years — and now draws upwards of 2 lakh pilgrims who stay in the forests here for between four and seven days.

Environmental impact

The cumulative environmental impact this will have in a fragile rainforest ecosystem can well be imagined and there’s good evidence too. A 2008-09 study carried out by the Ashoka Trust for Research in Ecology and the Environment (ATREE) reported, for instance, a five fold increase in the vehicular traffic here in the festival period, leading to over 1400 cases of animal road kills (mainly invertebrates like millipedes and at least six species of snakes). 

While the festivities are restricted to an area about 500 hectares, the research showed that the ripple effects extend to an area with a radius of nearly 4.5 kms from the temple. A particularly impacted plant is the endemic Euphorbia susan-holmsii cacti that grows on the rocky patches here. Less than 20 individual plants survive around the temple site and researchers feel that the plant could go locally extinct on account of the lopping and cutting, and the soil erosion caused by activities of the pilgrims here. Clearing the forest understory for setting up camp, burning of leaf litter and lopping of the trees for fuelwood are the other impacts on the forest.

A particularly serious issue is the pollution of the river. Hundreds of kilograms of plastic and other waste, remains of slaughtered animals and human excreta along with the bleaching powder used to maintain hygiene, all get washed into the river water. 

One of the worst affected is Agasthymalai Kani Kudiirruppu, a small Kani settlement located just downstream; the residents reportedly suffer from outbreaks of dysentery, skin rashes and food poisoning for months after the festival is over. The impacts are seen further downstream as well, in the town of Vikramasinghapuram for instance, and in the plains below.

The implications of the festival are indeed widespread, and wildlife and environmental organisations, the forest department, and the health and district authorities have been working together over the last decade to deal with them. 

Real challenge

Nearly 50 people representing the district authorities, line departments, the temple trust, NGOs, education institutions and village forest councils participated in a meeting called by forest department on July 28 to discuss this year’s festival. 

It is here that the Vikramasinghapuram panchayat president expressed the town’s concerns over the pollution of the river and the impact on its denizens. The forest department also issued a press release, listing the activities that will not be allowed inside the reserve during the festival — such as pilgrims should not carry plastic bags; liquor is banned; and weapons, pets are not allowed.

KMTR is, in fact, only one of many significant temple and pilgrimage complexes within wildlife habitats across the country such as the Periyar Tiger Reserve (Kerala), Bandavgarh TR (Madhya Pradesh), Ranthambore TR (Rajasthan) and the Bhimashankar Wildlife Sanctuary in Maharashtra. And in a country where a certain religiosity seems to be growing exponentially, faith is setting out an increasingly difficult challenge for forests, for wildlife and for wildlife management. The efforts being made in KMTR may just be the baby steps we all need to learn from.

“The festival is not a problem”, says A Venkatesh, Field Director of the tiger reserve, “it is the organising of the festival that is a challenge.” There is also the very insightful and thought provoking observation made in the larger context of forest pilgrimages by ATREE researchers Allwin Jesudasan and Rajakamal Goswami. 

Their research showed that for many of low-income families from the hot, dryland villages bordering KMTR, the pilgrimage is as much a moment of leisure, as it is a cheap and viable alternative to expensive hill stations such as Udhagamandalam or Kodaikanal. 

The same would apply in the case of forests that have been accessible historically, but have now become out of bounds due to wildlife protection legislations. The issue then becomes an even more complex one. The pilgrims and pilgrimages may be part of the problem; a way forward can only be found if they become part of the solution as well.

The writer is Member, Kalpavriksh Environment Action Group. The article is first of a series being done as a part of the FEJI-ATREE Media Fellowship-2015. 

(This article was published on August 11, 2015)

The Rao Jodha Desert Rock park

11th Jan 2015

As we finished our tour of the fabulous and awe inspiring Mehrangarh fort, Shobha and Sheila mentioned the Rao Jodha Park, where Pradeep Krishen was behind an effort to "rewild" the areas around the fort.

it seemed like an interesting place to visit, and so off we went to the Visitor Centre, located below the fort, where we met enthusiastic Sachin, a naturalist involved in this project.  It was humbling to see his passion and knowledge about what was being done.

In 1890 or thereabouts, this was how the rocky outcrop appeared.  (Painting by GF Lamb, from the British Library)

It seems that in the 1930s one of the previous rajas of Jodhpur decided to green the hillside, and scattered seeds of Prosopsis juliflora, all across his state.  We now know that this imported mesquite is hardy and drought resistant and while it provides an endless supply of fodder and firewood, it takes over the countryside, not allowing anything else to grow.

Sachin told us how in 2006, the Fort Trust began this nature park project and the biggest challenge was how to eliminate the Prosopsis whose roots go deep into the stone.  After many failed methods, they finally got a set of sandstone miners, who actually chisel in and physically remove the plants.

It is an ongoing process and not complete by any means.

The map with the layout of the park can be seen here.

Just past the Visitor's Centre is  a set of experimental gardens, with different soil types and different plant types.

The ramparts stretched upwards, and even in January, it was now hot as the midday sun more than warmed us.  It was a bad idea on our part to come here just before lunch, because (atleast for me), a lot of what Sachin said was eaten up by my need for lunch, and therefore I am in no position to recount the names of all that we saw!

Was this the Goondi - Cordia graham ?  If it is, it has red fruit which is gelatinous and full of water 

Sachin explained that the Jodhpur area had volcanic rock, and the sands in the various parts of desert Rajasthan were different from each other.  We admired the beautiful hues of the molten rock piled up.

This was the rock from Jaisalmer - more yellow, which would explain the differences in the colours of the two forts - Jaisalmer and Mehrangarh.

I do not recall the name of this shrub.....

But this I recall is bui - Aerva javanica - a desert cotton shrub which we subsequently saw in the Thar, used to fill pillows and mattresses in this part of the world.

This too I don't recall.

Unknown yellow

We were in the desert in the late winter and many of the flowers which would be seen in spring - say Feb/March - were absent.  The Rohido (Tecomella undulata) is for early birds like us, flowering in late winter, its bright red blossoms unmistakeable.

Also referred to as Marwar Teak, the wood is highly prized and I think it is protected.  

Another unknown beauty

The lake near Jaswant Thada is also part of the Park, and was home to many migratory birds.  We saw wigeon, pintails, coots, water hen, cormorants and kingfishers while we waited.

Photos by Sheila

On the next morning, Shobha, Raji and Sheila went back to the Park and went down to the trail by the old water aqueduct.  These are the pictures Sheila took.

It was cool and quiet, they said, and it was a refreshing walk, with Sachin once again filling them with details!

The characteristic thor - Euphorbia caducifolia - which is a succulent but not of the cactus family.  The base provides protection for little creatures from predators, so its a good place to hang around if you want to see some smaller wildlife.

Lovely views of the fort

Some parts of the duct had water.

I would love to visit again, in a different season, and next time I promise myself to take better notes!

Punnai

Walking along the streets of Neelangarai, I chanced upon a Punnai in bloom.

Sekar tends one on our street with diligence.  Maybe it will flower soon.

Black shouldered kite at Sholinganallur

Photo by Mr Ramanan

Elanus caeruleus 

A beautiful capture by Mr Ramanan, of a black-shouldered kite, seen on a wire at Sholinganallur.    It seems to be fixing Mr Ramanan with a piercing look!

This smaller bird of prey has an interesting habit of hovering, like the pied kingfisher.

On the open plains at Bharatpur, we would regularly see them almost stationery in the sky as they hovered over, looking for small prey like rodents, frogs and lizards.

Salt and Sambhar - a place in need of urgent attention

17th January 2015

We bundled into our cars in Sujangarh, as we reached the last day of our rather interesting week in Rajasthan.

The town seemed to have some south Indian influence, as we saw a familiar gopuram by the roadside.

Lakshmi pleaded that we should have breakfast elsewhere, and so we landed up at Rama hotel, which was a vast improvement to our hotel, and we gorged on parottas, which kept coming from the kitchens.

Our souls were in a better state at the end of that, and we set off on our long journey east to Jaipur.

We were at the fag end of our trip, and it was with some regret, as I realized it would soon be back to work.

As I looked out of the window, I saw the by now familiar lopped Khejri trees, looking forlorn and leafless, standing over fallow fields.

Further east, and the trees were in leaf, as also the mustard fields.

And then suddenly there were these lines of lorries filled with salt.

We were closing in on Sambhar lake, the salt water lake of my childhood textbooks.  I remember our Geography teacher droning on about how it was India's largest inland saline depression.  I also remember never quite having it explained as to why it was saline!

Never did I think that one day I would actually visit this lake, far removed from the beaten track.

(It has always bugged me as to why it is called sambhar, my favourite gravy.  (The same is true for the deer as well.  ))





Located between Jaipur in the east and Ajmer to the west, it is now a designated Ramsar wetland.

We crossed a red brick, shabby building which announced the station - yes the lake has a station - and my sense of anticipation grew.

I thought of Pulicat and Chilika, the other estuarine backwater lagoons, with large expanses of water as far as the eye could see.

We turned a corner, and the cars halted at the edge of what looked like the local garbage dump.

Nabeel our guide said we had to walk past a little bund we saw.  To my increasing shock and dismay, it seemed we were walking into the local village facility, we seemed to interrupt people in their toilet, and there was garbage and feces everywhere.

I still cannot get over it actually, how this could be a Ramsar site, and be so neglected.  More than the birds then, it was the shocking state of the lake that hit me.

There were children playing cricket in these unhygienic conditions - on the dry lake bed, and we spoke to some of them, asking them why it was like this.  They seemed to indicate that the village elders were unconcerned, there was not enough of toilet facilities, etc etc.

On my return I also read that there are two PSU salt companies - Sambhar Salts Limited and Bharat Salts - located here and working the salt pans.  Why on earth have they not taken on the revival of this historical lake that is part of our ecological and environmental heritage?

Even Pallikaranai seems better off when compared to this lake.

From Google maps

A railway line cuts the lake - the side we are in (the western side) is the protected (rather, neglected) lake, left for the birds, while the other side is the salt pans.  There is also a dam further east to regulate the water flow to the pans.

Sambhar city relies on salt mining for its livelihood.  Salt has been mined here from the 6th century AD when the Chauhans ruled, and has continued continuously to date.

How is this lake saline, though?

Greater flamingoes - yes, they were the main attraction and they stood in the middle of the lake, probably in half a foot of water.

A pied Avocet tried to make the best of a bad deal scrounging in the murky waters.

As we watched a train came rattling by on the track.  The track dates back to British India, and was the line for transporting salt out of the region.

The flamingoes decided they were better off in the air at this point, and circled in formation until the train passed.

They came settling back down only after the train had moved on.

At one point in the eighties there used to be lakhs of these birds, I read, not so anymore.  Not enough water is reaching the lake as the frehwater channel/rivers are choked

Lapwigs, stilts and godwits mucked around disconsolately (I thought).

We even spotted a snipe

And a wagtail

We were not unhappy to leave, frankly, a rather strange phenomenon for an MNS group which is always malingering.

I hope that I am able to raise some awareness of the urgent needs of this habitat.

We headed out to lunch and then set off for Jaipur on our way back home.

Further surprises awaited us, as we came to learn from indifferent Air Costa staff that our Chennai flight was cancelled.  Of course they were "generous" enough to give us a full refund.

We then were all forced to book tickets on the Jaipur-Bangalore flight, thinking that it is better to come south than hang around there.

Then the question was how do we move from Bangalore to Chennai?  A KSRTC bus that left at midnight was found by Kumar's enterprising daughter and tickets were booked online, as we raised a toast to the mobile phone and online booking!

So, deplane at Bangalore, rush madly to baggage claim, and a quick bathroom stop before we caught two cabs urging the drivers to drive us with speed to the bus stand in town.

Then we (in one cab) reach the well marked bus bays, and find a couple of people hanging around on the pavement, and asked them about the Chennai bus.  They informed us that it was yet to come, so we hang around with them, while eyeing another bus that was idling ahead of us.

The second cab arrives, with Kumar's daughter, who asks us why we are waiting and not boarding the bus!!  She had received an sms with the bus number, and the gents on the pavement were obviously unaware or spreading disinformation!  Giggling hysterically, we got on, and made our way to the seats.

We continued to laugh until we dozed off fitfully, reaching the chaos of Koyambedu on the morning of the 18th, boarded a share auto and suffered a bone rattling ride all the way home.

A good bath, and a morning cup of strong filter coffee, and all was once again well with the world!

Rajasthan was now a memory.