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The writing's on the rock!

Where inscriptions tell a story, writes PANKAJA SRINIVASAN

STRANGE SYMBOLS Inscriptions at Eru Betta PHOTO: K. ANANTHAN

As I slide, slither, slip and grasp at the vanishing skirts of dignity, I say to myself, "This had better be worth it." The destination is Thalamokkai, more precisely, Eru Betta. There is an old cave there that has ancient inscriptions on its walls.

It all began with a quest for an RLT and the Nilgiri Adivasi Welfare Association (NAWA) at Kotagiri seemed the right agency to guide us to places off the beaten track. Our first stop is Semmanarai, where we have to pick up an Irula elder who will guide us through the forests to the inscriptions.

One can't really go wrong with lush hills and a salubrious climate, and the drive is exhilarating. We drive through cabbage fields (Gosu Kaadu), carrot farms and inevitably, tea estates. A small temple in the middle of nowhere is all dressed up in colourful bulbs and paper streamers and a radio plays devout, if static-filled bhajans to Lord Muruga.

Gradually, the manicured tea slopes give way to sholas and a tarred road yields to kuchcha as our vehicle bumps its way round hairpin bends till we reach the remote pocket of Semmanarai where we are to rendezvous with Ramaswamy, the Irula tribesman. He appears holding freshly picked guavas and we set off. The spirit is high and the feeling upbeat. With a spring in our step and a song in our heart, we look forward to the leg of the journey that will lead us to the inscriptions. We drive on till the vehicle can't go any further.

Alighting, we set off into the forest. There is Ramaswamy, Krishnan, our photographer and yours truly.

The only sound comes from our feet walking over a carpet of dry leaves. An army of ants indignantly scuttles away as we disturb their siesta. And, of course, the bird calls.

These could be the enchanted woods and I could be the resident sylph as I traipse through... till the point where Ramaswamy abruptly disappears over the edge. He has not hurtled to a grisly end, as I fear. He has just trooped down a slope with a gradient that is at least 90 degrees.

"He must have gone down to pick berries," I console myself. But a shout from below and I know we are meant to follow him down. And that is the end of the forest nymph in me. Throwing up a prayer, I take one step forward and that is my last one for quite some time.

The preferred mode of locomotion from this place onwards is sitting down and moving one inch at a time.

When the gradient eases out a bit, one can cautiously get up with the help of some conveniently hanging climbers. Tarzan-like, we move from vine to vine. After an hour's walk, it dawns on us that we are perhaps on ground that has not been trodden upon for, who knows, a thousand years.

Ahead, we finally catch a glimpse of a huge rock face sitting in isolated splendour. Skirting around it, we scramble up to a level area and in front is "The wall." Having expected Egyptian-like hieroglyphics, the result is disappointing at first. Then, as you stare hard at the grey wall, stick figures, strange symbols and a figure that looks like some celestial being swim into focus.

The etchings have faded after years of being exposed to the elements. May be, to trained eyes they would tell a story of times gone by. But even to the novice, they are curiously moving. It is as if they were reaching out to us across the centuries.

How to get there

Thalamokkai is about 23 km from Kotagiri. The best way to visit the area is to enlist the help of the NAWA, at Kotagiri. Ph: 04266-271596

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