To get to the sandbar at one end of the reservoir, one has to walk about a kilometer through forests, crossing a stream en route. I had been coming to this place for nearly 25 years. For bird watching at first; then with P for her research work. Last weekend, once again, my old friend Dr Sreenivasan and I went there to camp out in the open under a full moon.
One of the blessings of getting older is the company of old friends. You can be you with them. No need to pretend. They know you thorough and thorough and hopefully, they respect and love you for what you are. I am sure otherwise they wouldn’t spare their time and life for you. I would always remember how Doc and I met first. A common friend had introduced us, as one birdwatcher to another. Within 5 minutes, we decided to go on a long bike ride to Thattekad Sanctuary for bird watching. The relationship retains the same flavour and fervour it had 23 years ago. We go to the wilderness once in a while, though both are too lazy to do extensive bird watching now. Generally we booze, discuss food and philosophy in the same breath.
The day was January 30 and we blundered as ever; no liquor shops on Gandhiji’s death anniversary! Fortunately, another friend supplied us the vital fluid in sufficient quantity.
We were much excited this time. One, the full moon; two, Doc’s recently acquired new tarp, which his son’s friend in the States had gifted to him. One of the many passions we shared was sleeping outdoors, with a little fire to warm the body and a little spirit for the spirit. We had another friend with us this time, Gopi, a well-known wildlife photographer, who had chucked his job as Photo Editor in a very popular English Weekly and now freelanced and free rolled in the forests.
As the sun set, we set up our camp on the sand bar at the edge of the waters of the reservoir. We could hear a lot of birds, the jungle fowl as usual the loudest. Hoof marks of Gaur and Elephant spoor nearby gave us hope. From the woods around, came the cough of the Sambar deer and the hoot of the Macaques and clucking of the Giant Squirrel. We set up the tarp, one end tied to a rectangular frame and the other sloping end to sticks stuck in the sand. Ground sheet is spread and sleeping bags rolled out. Glasses are brought out, snacks opened and the fizz and booze kept at hand. We gather wood and light the fire as the moon breaks out from behind the mountain slopes.
Those who have lit and tended campfires would know how joyous and serene is to watch the fire. The crackling of burning wood, the flames leaping this way and that way, the occasional re-arrangement of the logs and the silence... one shouldn't talk much; turn the ears outward as Deer’s' footfall crush dried leaves, as Owls hoot, as Lapwings titter and Jungle Fowls cackle. Sipping Whiskey, one stares at the flames, content.
Gopi had been on a Bullet ride to Ladakh recently, like I did a couple of years ago. We swap stories, exclaim at the memories of those haunting landscapes. Gopi talks about his wildlife adventures; how he was sitting in the middle of nowhere in Bandipur forests and the lone tusker padded by behind him. The long wait for a Black buck jumping, the sight of a Marsh Harrier snapping up prey, the pensive macaque watching for tidbits.
The full moon came up and grew larger. In the forest, everything was lit up. But the mountains had gone under the mist that rose along with the night. We sat in silence as frogs croaked and fish jumped in the water. Sometimes we could hear the breaking of twigs; deers were moving about nearby. Chill wind blew and we sat closer to the fire, gripping our glasses. We were warm; the fire, the whiskey and the company of close friends.
In the night, I dream Gaurs standing next to me and nipping at the tarp. Sambar deers hopped across the narrow channel and huddled near the fire. I wake up several times as do my friends. We tend the fire and sit looking around as the forests slept all around us. In the morning, we wake up to the calls of a dozen different species of birds.
I feel sorry for people who cannot enjoy the simple pleasures of life. Like home-cooked food. Playing with dogs. Watching night sky. Looking at bonfires. Walking in the mountains. Being with bosom friends. Last week, a relative of mine about my age, a millionaire business man, was puzzled when I told him that I was going to the forests. 'Where will you shit?', he asked. I said, 'Out in the open and clean ourselves in the stream'. 'What about snakes and insects', he wanted to know. 'Wouldn't animals attack you? What will you do for food?'. I shrugged. ‘We manage', I said. On the contrary, I couldn't understand him, late-night partying everyday at his posh club, hardly any close friends other than business associates and competitors. I am not saying my life is better, but just that I would not swap my life for his; not for his fleet of cars and mansions and foreign jaunts.
What I would like is to be like the Moon – move gently across the vast skies, among the stars. In the wee hours of the morning, I would disappear slowly behind the hills, leaving a pale light, making way for the sun.
********** Balachandran, Trivandrum, 3.02.2010
Photos Copyright: Gopinath Sricandane
