There are few other places as vulnerable to illegal tree felling as Marayur. The sandalwood forest in Kerala’s Idukki district owes its existence partly to two new recruits. Athira P Vijayan and P S Sreedevi created news when they became the first batch of women to guard the hot spot.
The beat forest officers were deputed to a place which demands maximum security. As soon as they completed their training from the Arippa Forest Training Institute, they were assigned to the Nachivayal forest station inside the Marayur range.
The 600 hectare sandalwood forest comprises many divisions. Athira and Sreedevi are in charge of the Kadukkathara division. We went along with the duo deep into the forest to see them in action for a day.
Athira and Sreedevi were just another engineering graduates aiming for a cushy job before they landed with the forest department. They hardly knew what was in store for them when they took up the offer. They are happy about their decisions. In fact, they consider themselves lucky to be with nature.
A night inside the forest is a dream come true in India, where people have to seek official permission to venture into the reserves. Athira and Sreedevi has rose to the opportunity. They are in love with the forest. They love the trees so much as to treat them as individuals, complete with names. They even consider photographing the forest as a mistake.
They work from 6 pm to 6 am. They are not alone. About 200 beat officers burn the midnight oil to conserve the sandalwood forest, where lumberjacks are always on the prowl for the precious trees.
The beat officers spend the day in houses on the fringes of the forest.
The beast within the beauty
The officers said that the romantic charm of the forest wanes when you get deeper into it. The women did not have it easy. They have to brave the night filled with thick fog, wild animals and even more dangerous poachers and loggers.
The night advanced like a silent black panther. The freezing cold matched the darkness. We left the Nachivayal forest station and crossed the asphalted road before getting into the forest. The sandalwood forest is protected by a tall barbed fence.
We walked on the road carrying big flashlights, walky talkys, batons and the bare essentials shoved into our backpacks. The road soon squeezed itself into a narrow path. Staring into the big circle the flashlight carved out of darkness, we were blind to the wild beauty around us.
Athira and Sreedevi, however, were at home. They knew the path very well. They even knew each of the trees on the way. Their walky talkys came to light after a point.
They reported their location through the wireless equipment. Each of the sector in the forest is named for easy identification. We reached a thatched shed inside the forest, where a tribal watcher keeps vigil near a bonfire. Watchmen like Aruldas keep awake through the night to protect their forest.
We walked along the border of the forest, a stretch more dangerous for the beat officers. We stood silent for a moment from the village by the forest.
We heard strange voices but definitely not human. The chorus of invisible creatures from the thick undergrowth.
Jungle lore
We crossed numerous streams on our way. The water was ice cold. We negotiated the pitfalls dug up by root-hunting wild boars. We were startled by a hare that sprinted by us. The forest was dark, illuminated only by the little moonlight that trickles down the thick canopy. A veil of mist descended over us.
We turned towards the forest again. Athira’s torchlight caught a pair of bright green eyes. Fear gripped me. Was it a tiger? Or a leopard? Athira consoled me. It was just a deer amid a late-night supper.
Athira and Sreedevi stopped to answer phone calls from their mothers, who were worried about the girls alone in the forest. The engineers-turned-forest officers laughed at the mothers’ worries. “They do not know that the forest is safer. Could we walk anywhere else at this time of night?” They would not want to trade their positions for any well-paying job.
We paid a visit to another watcher. Jayapalan was sitting by a bonfire. He offered us black coffee and some snacks he had brought from home. Before he bade him goodbye, he told us to watch for the animals. As if on cue, a loud growl greeted us. A sounder of boars was near us. About 60 beasts were face to face with us. A large boar walked towards us, checked us out and retreated.
My companions told me that boars were especially dangerous in the forest. “Sometimes they would charge at us. Their tusks are razor-sharp. We were afraid of these sounders in the beginning. Now we know how to behave,” Sreedevi said.
Haven of thieves
We proceeded towards the Pambar River. Poachers often crossed the river into the forest. “We had heard a lot of lore about the sandalwood logging during our training. But we had no idea that our job would take us here. Logging was common in Marayur and surrounding areas. Thieves even targeted the roots of cut sandalwood trees. They only carried a small axe.”
Walking by the river, we spot a cremation ground. The villagers burn their dead by the forest. The cleared ground was shrouded in the smell of wilted flowers and still burning incense.
“I was afraid to get out of my house after dark,” Athira said. “Now here I am, in a crematorium around midnight. Nothing scares me here.”
We proceed on the fringe of the forest, by a village named Anakkalpetti. “A notorious sandalwood smuggler lives here. His name is Surya. There is a mugshot of him pasted in the station,” Sreedevi said.
Marayur got its name because it was hidden in a chain of hills. Loggers and poachers have umpteen ways to flee. In 20 kilometers, you could reach Kodaikanal or Valparai, depending on the direction you choose. The forest is crisscrossed with narrow paths. Smugglers are well-versed with the topography.
A village temple comforted us in the dark in the forest. The temple is open even at this hour. It has nothing valuable to attract the attention of thieves.
We were alerted by the barking of dogs on the village road. There could be someone. The beat officers waited for any sign of human presence but there was no one.
The area has about 20,000 sandalwood trees. Some of the trees fetch more than Rs 1 crore. The trees are closely guarded. Not even a twig could be taken out of the forest. Every tree is tagged with a unique number.
Hidden scent
Why couldn’t I get a whiff of the familiar scent? “The bark and leaves have no scent. The trunk of the sandalwood is heavily scented,” Sreedevi explained.
We could hear a passing jeep now and then. Forest officers were patrolling the area. The wireless messages flew thick and fast. Twigs cracked somewhere near us. “It’s deer, not elephants,” Sreedevi said. The rookie guards have learned their lessons well.
The forest was filled with a constellation of green spots. Herds of deer were all over the place. Fireflies kept them company. The forest never sleeps.
It was around 2 am and we were freezing. We lit a bonfire abandoned by watchers. There is noting more dangerous than the cold in the forest. We snatched ourselves from the cozy warm bonfire and did another round through the watch posts. Everyone was awake and alert. Everyone responded to the flashing signals, the most effective mode of communication in the forest.
We came across pug-marks and footprints. We prayed that we never crossed an elephant’s path. The elephants sometimes ambushed approaching strangers. The only way to stay out of trouble was to sniff the air for the beast’s unmistakable scent. The predators were a lesser threat. They preferred deer and boars.
We walked past the forest department’s nursery and the place marked for forest research. We have covered almost 16 kilometers. We retraced our step once again. None of us were sleepy, maybe because of the freshening air. We walked out of the jungle as the night waned.
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