Pause at the origin of Kallar river 92

RECOLLECTING THE EXPERIENCE

On the way to Konni Reserve forest, both sides of the road were lined with rubber tree plantations, true to the image of Konni that I have painted in my mind after years of visiting the rubber plantation with my grandfather. Seeing all the trees with the plastic sheets attached to their trunks to protection the coconut shells filled with sap was a sign that monsoon season was approaching. The trees started to gradually change in shape and size as we began to enter what I assumed was the forest. The taller trees formed a roof over the forest that allowed sunlight in only certain parts, like paintings on display at a gallery. The trees didn’t stand awkwardly straight like the ones in the rubber plantations. These trees grew with comfort as though they were at home. The cold and damp breeze blowing through the window and the smell of fallen jackfruit after a heavy pour, made me feel at ease as we drove deeper into the forest. It started to drizzle as we reached the banks of Kallar river. We made our way through the narrow muddy pathway that lead to a rivulet adjoining the Kallar river, one of the many rivers that originate in Konni Reserve forest. The rivulet was shallow and clear. The sound of the rivulet, chirping of birds and crickets during the monsoon season were familiar and comforting to hear. Memories of my cousins and I playing in the thod (stream) during the rainy season resurfaced as we got into the coracle. We would play for hours in the thod trying to catch small fish, tadpoles and spot the occasional snake head that popped out from the cracks between rocks. We were always warned to stay away from the rocky edges to avoid any encounters with snakes. As our local village companion paddled his way through the river, the small fish and the pebbles on the river bed started to disappear. The river was much darker and deeper than the thod. The dark water made me restless as my mind wandered onto the potential danger that could strike at any moment like the snakes in the thod except this time I will not see it coming. I quickly tried to distract myself by looking at the tall trees that stood on the banks of the river. Some seemed welcoming with their branches playfully reaching out into the water and others completely shut off with their foliage blocking out any further view of what lies inside. Further down the river the tree foliage got denser and completely opaque as the river got wider. I suddenly started to feel like an outsider. I felt as though I was about to break my guest etiquette rules by venturing into a forbidden part of someone’s home. Before I could think any further, the local village companion announced that we were going to head back to where we had started our journey. In the distance I could see the hills that we have driven through to get to the coracle ride. As we got closer to the rivulet I felt more relaxed.