While they head out of the forest for their day’s work, I set foot in it for mine. Residents of Madurapakkam, a village lying in the shadow of the eucalyptus-rich Madurapakkam Reserve Forest, take this one-kilometre pathway to reach Medavakkam-Mambakkam Main Road.
With an unfinished business tugging at the tassels of my mind, I head back to my concrete jungle, but can’t resist returning the same evening to walk down this well-worn pathway, which resembles a meandering but calculated cut in a silvery-green cloth.
The walk down the beaten track enables me to experience much of what this forest offers. The birdsong is loud and clear and there is no sound intruding upon it, except for the occasional rumble of a motorcycle. Residents of Madurapakkam either walk or ride a motorcycle to their village. Thankfully, the path is too narrow for four-wheelers.
Clumps of eucalyptus trees are among the prominent features defining this forest; with their silvery barks, these tall trees impart a rare colour and quality to the green space.
From the number of fallen eucalyptus trees, many of them removed off the pathway, it’s clear Vardah had driven a sharp lance through the forest and ruthlessly twisted the instrument of torture.
Some of the fallen trees demonstrate how life can push its way through death. In what looks like a log of a Vardah-struck eucalyptus tree, there are sprouts of fresh leaves — clearly life in the midst of death.
After doing the one-kilometre walk, I do one more kilometre by retracing my steps, back to the Medavakkam-Mambakkam Road. It’s almost six p.m., and a young moon has started its trek up the skies, and the birdsong has reached a higher pitch. For most part of the walk, I don’t encounter another human being. Just the quiet hour I wanted, I tell myself. A word of caution: though this trail is often busy with footsteps, it can get very quiet and deserted at times, and, therefore, it makes sense to explore it with a group of friends.
(This column shows you how to be a tourist in your own city)
