Becoming Ourselves Again
This story is supported by a grant from Shared Ecologies.
Translated and edited by Kamakshi Narayanan
Man can adapt himself to changing situations, but the Earth’s climate can change in ways unthinkable to him. I once believed that humans wouldn’t change their way of living. But now, they are being forced to because of the drastic shifts in the climate.
The way we understand ‘climate change’ has changed, and continues to change. This has affected the lives of the forest dwellers in more ways than one. You might wonder—have the changes in Earth’s climate affected only forest dwellers? Has climate change not made it difficult for the rest of humanity, as well?
Perhaps it has.
But our lives—the lives of those who live in the sholas—have changed so drastically and dramatically that our livelihoods and entire way of living face tremendous challenges. For generations, we roamed free in the montane sholas, bathing in the clear waters of the beautiful rivulets and falls and drinking from the nectar of the streams. Now, we are limited to the water that is supplied through pipes.
Besides the Pazhaiyars (the Old Ones), the other tribes of the Palani Hills of the Western Ghats are the Irulars, Kaadars, Pulayars and the Kaattu Nayakkars. There’s not much difference in the way we all live or in our religious rituals—except that we do not intermarry. Traditionally, we have always been hunter-gatherers, getting our produce from the sholas. We would gather honey, kal paasi (a type of lichen prized as a condiment), malai nellikkai, kadukkai (one of the myrobalan fruits), seeyakkai and soppukkai (types of soapnut) and other forest produce.
Small millets like thinai and saamai were grown in small patches of land near the alai (cave) where we lived. After harvest, families would move to another alai nearby. All of us would go into the forests to hunt small animals like pangolins, monitor lizards, hares, flying squirrels and others. Whatever was caught was brought home. If we caught more than we needed, the animal was tied up close by, or cooked and sun-dried on the rocks or near the fire to be used later. If the catch was plentiful, fish and crabs too were preserved for later use the same way.
But now, with the unpredictable changes in weather patterns, forest produce is not available as per the seasons. If available, it is not as abundant as it used to be. I haven’t tasted any of the forest meats in many years now, even the dried and preserved kinds.
When I asked my father about this recent scarcity of forest produce, he explained that in his youth, if they went deep into the forest for a few days to gather honey, they returned with a yield of no less than 50 kilos. Now, even after searching around for nearly a month, they are unable to get more than 5 kilos. Similarly, when rains in October and November made it difficult to venture into the forests, many kinds of mushrooms grew nearby in abundance. Now, we barely see one or two varieties. Harvesting crabs from streams was much easier earlier—one could catch them with bare hands, or with just a few twigs tied together into a trap. Now, they are nowhere to be seen! Fish too—once available in many types, small and large—are hardly seen anymore. As a result, our food habits have had to undergo major changes. We once grew tubers and vegetables near our alai, but with relocation into government housing, this small-scale farming for personal needs has also stopped.
Recently, I visited a relative in Kallaar Theppakkulamedu in Valparai, a hill station in the Coimbatore district, and the story there was the same. Our close friend Balayi Ammal, whom we stayed with, was deeply upset and saddened. Families there had had to relocate far away from their homes due to unseasonal, heavy rains two years ago, when most of their houses were washed away in landslides. Their food stocks had slowly dwindled, and it had become difficult to go foraging in the forests as well, forcing 24 families to move to this hamlet.
Balayi explained, ‘Even though this is forest land, we have not been able to get what we normally eat. We belong to the Kaadar tribe, and our foods are mostly bamboo-based like bamboo rice (seeds of bamboo) and young shoots. Our pots, pans and vessels for most of the cooking are made of bamboo, as are our mats and commonly used household items. We would collect bamboo “rice” when available and store it for future use. After coming to Valparai, I have not even seen the kinds of bamboo we are familiar with, let alone bamboo rice! Water is a problem here too, as well as land. The flowering seasons for the malai nellikkai, kadukkai and other plants have also shifted, and there isn’t enough to gather to sell.’
The Pazhaiyars of Kodaikanal worship the azhinji or avinji flower (Rhododendron arboreum, subspecies nilagiricum) and its tree—also known as the Nilgiri rhododendron. Both the tree and the flower are essential to the tribe’s traditional rituals, which are usually performed when the tree is flowering. The flowers were in plenty once, but climate change has shifted the flowering time, and many trees have also been felled indiscriminately. For the past few years, we have not been able to perform our annual rituals because the flowers aren’t available, and there aren’t many trees left either. If this continues, we fear this worship might have to be given up altogether.
This is only one example. In my childhood, I foraged and ate the fruits of bambirikkai and pottipazham regularly, but my son has only heard the names of these plants, never seen them.
Climate change has not only affected humans—it has changed the lives of insects and birds too. Caterpillars die in their chrysalis and there aren’t many butterflies fluttering around anymore. There are very few bees—where will they forage if there are no flowers? There are fewer varieties of bird calls. The hooting of the owl hunting for rodents after sunset, the chattering of the sholakili at dawn and dusk, and the muted crooning of the pigeon are more vivid in childhood memories now. The long-eared hares are a very rare sight, while one still sees the bushy-tailed flying squirrels gliding gracefully through the air at dusk. Porcupines scurry away from the sound of approaching people.
This holds true for the larger animals of the forest as well. The varai aadu (Nilgiri tahr), which was once a hunter’s delight, the spotted deer that was once so abundant, and the pangolin and monitor lizard that our people hunted regularly for food are now endangered. Many in my generation have never tasted their meat. My son may see some of these creatures only in museums!
Climate change has turned human life on its head, but we don’t seem to have realised it or changed our ways. We complain about all that has gone wrong, without understanding the urgent need to change our ways, or making any effort towards that change!
The grains have long been forgotten,
Sugarcane is now crushed into paper,
Honey cannot be found,
What of tomorrow—how will I live?
Will Nature give me the answer?
Man! You have the answer!
What started as a tiny spring that became a gurgling stream and then a foaming waterfall is now a river of plastic waste. Lakes and water bodies that once fed people have become garbage dumps and sewers. Wooded glades are now concrete jungles, and shaded forest paths have become roads of tar. Concrete highways now occupy green landscapes, and smoke from factories and vehicles traversing the countryside has darkened the clear blue skies, polluting the air and making it difficult to breathe.
Unless You change your ways—what can I do?
In the name of progress, you have self-destructed.
Change!
For the better…
Then,
Only then can I become myself again,
Slowly.
Turbid water settles and clears quickly, but it will take a long time for the climate to settle.
