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The fluttering white ribbon

PHOTO: K. Ananthan

PICTURE PERFECT The Papanasam at Narasipuram.

A last-minute change in RLT plan. The place we decided earlier on is heaving with wild elephants, and late in the night, we zero in on Papanasam river. We are warned there could be rain, but when we begin the drive, a hot sun is out. However, in a fe w minutes, it vanishes dramatically.

In front of us materialises the endless stretch of the Western Ghats, a marvel in contrast.

To the right is Marudamalai, all of green under a completely grey sky, threatening to bucket down at the mere prick of a pin, and to the left, the distant Vellingiri, all of blue, flaunting white cotton-wool clouds.

As we get closer to our destination, Vellingiri too begins to be shrouded in a slim film of mist, and we discover doodles in silver here and there: waterfalls. It is one of those squiggly lines we are headed to! After driving past many tiny villages and inquisitive uniform-clad children, we reach the forester’s office.

Accompanied by forester K. Doraiswamy and watcher M. Dhanasekaran, we continue the drive.

A drizzle joins us. The watcher informs us that the vehicle cannot continue after a point, as the stretch is slushy because of the incessant rain.

Sure enough, the two-km drive becomes long-winded as the driver consummately manoeuvres cesspools and damp red soil.

When it menaces to become a boat ride, we get off and walk. Actually, totter. With every step, the mud disintegrates, and on many occasions, we are glad to salvage our footwear.

Soon, the walk is less arduous, so we can take in the mizzle. The silver lines on the green hill in front of us have disappeared, to be replaced by a fluttering broad ribbon in milky white.

The waterfall.

The hill now looks like a leaky green milk pot. Occasionally, through drenched eyes, we see a little sunny patch on the hill.

The forester tells us that the place is home to the common langur, Nilgiri langur, panther, tiger, bear, elephants, wild dog, sambhar and spotted deer. We see none except a grazing cow.

After crossing a couple of rivulets and a handful of tribal mud houses that have sprouted out of nowhere, we finally hear the whisper of the river in the distance.

Joined now by a couple of chivalrous, sickle-wielding tribal youth, we venture half-a-km into the forest.

To the mediocre mind fed on Indian movies, a damp, silent, and dense forest means surprises from slothful pythons and dangling snakes.

But, all we get are glimpses of green worms, lady birds and mean-looking red ants. Closer to the river, we find a creeper (ondattikkodi) bearing extraordinarily huge green pods.

The dried ones on the ground cough up rich burgundy seeds, the size of a paper weight!

A red vented bulbul.

The river, at last.

Rushing ferociously, the frothing Papanasam gushes down dark rocks.

Crystal clear and ice cold, the water leaves you stunned with its sheer force at certain places and the absolute calm in others. Smooth pebbles wink between your toes, and green leaves wedged amid rocks dance away with the flow.

On the moist rocks are interesting floral growths resembling fresh coriander. The drizzle gets a little stronger, as if to compete with the loud flow of the river.

After splashing about in the water for a while, its time to lunch, and pack off. On our way back, we stop at a mud house, and are treated to undiluted rustic hospitality.

We down warm milk, even as a clucking hen pecks at my toe, a kitten curls up in sleep, and the rain pitter-patters rhythmically.

The forester tells us we should have visited the place between December and May, when there’s no rain or marshy roads. Turning around, we see the white ribbon gradually fading behind a mist that slithers inaudibly. Who’s complaining of a two-km walk in rain?

How to go: The Papanasam river flows through Narasipuram, 30 km from Coimbatore. For details, call the District Forest Office at 0422-2302925.

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