Last week, I had a visitor from Coimbatore in office. Speaking to him took me back in time to that memorable day, 15 years ago. I was at a wildlife photo exhibition in Coimbatore. On display were some stunning photographs of the Western Ghats that had been clicked by Tolstoy, an MBBS student. Also at the exhibition was K. Kalidas, who, along with his friend Ganesh, had quit his government job to start OSAI, an NGO to spread awareness among children on the importance of forests. “We are leaving to these hills in two hours. Are you interested?” Kalidas asked me.
It was a tempting offer, especially as I had never stepped into a wildlife sanctuary. I packed my belongings in an hour and took off for five days to see first-hand what I had seen in those beautiful photographs. We trekked across the sanctuary which had six different types of forests. It was an unforgettable experience watching hornbills fly past, seeing a herd of about a hundred Nilgiri Tahrs grazing a peak, and getting drenched in the rains in the wild.
That day, something stuck with me, apart from the leeches that had hitched a ride on my travel bag. I started writing about wildlife and forests, conservation and habitat protection. I learnt that every inch of the forest floor had to be saved.
Environment reporting took me to all the forests in the western districts of Tamil Nadu — from the village where the forest brigand Veerappan lived to the majestic Anaimalai hills. I stayed at the homes of tribals, in anti-poaching sheds nestled deep inside jungles with no electricity, saw human-animal conflicts play out in front of my eyes, reported on construction in elephant corridors, deforestation, water pollution and the ugly face of industrialisation.
It was Kalidas who came to visit me last week. “The report you wrote to stop a higher educational institution from coming up in Mankarai was a success,” he said. “It was the first in the fight against encroachment of elephant corridors.”
It was Kalidas who had tipped me off about that story. That corridor is still safe, he said. Reporting, I have learnt over the years, can save forests.
For many years after that trip, my daughter, who was a baby when I took off that day, would sift through photo albums. She believed that the Western Ghats belonged to me. Of course, I own them — in my dreams. But I also owe my profession to them.
