Mamandur: The Man-Eater Walks Again...
Row upon row of hills falling away in the evening light in shades of green
and grey and purple... a cosy group on the verandah of the old forest rest
house which dominated the landscape like a lone sentinel of a bygone era...
the silence of darkness settling on the jungle like a thick blanket, broken
only by the murmur of our voices and the chugh chugh of the mail trains that
passed through the jungle night like silent spectators from an alien civilisation...
low lantern light casting long shadows around us even as the ghost of the
long-gone man-eater walked again...
Mamandur was truly atmospheric. Lush green jungle cloaking the hills as far
as eye could see, the panoramic view from the Mamandur rest house, the high
drama of Kenneth Anderson's killing of the famous man-eater of Mamandur recreated
with nerve-tingling suspense by Senior J, his book lit by a small circle of
torch-light as he sat surrounded by enthralled listeners in the shadowy half-light
of a dim lantern...
Come daybreak, the shadows disappeared, and the mood was bright with expectation
as the 25-strong group set out for a 5km jungle trek, even as thunder and
lightning signaled the arrival of rain... While the forest was lovely, the
rain probably sent all the wildlife into hiding, and the only animal the Wildertrailers
saw was a little pup, aptly christened Mamandu, that attached itself to the
group for the duration of the trek!
While the going was a little tough and a little slithery on account of the
rain, it was great to see the beaming, rain-drenched faces at the end of the
trek, especially the kids and the senior members, who gamely trudged through
it all...
Back at camp,
it was time for hot sambar sadam and equally
hot (?!) thayir sadam, prepared by the Wildertrailers under the benign autocracy
of head cook Senior J, ably assisted by right hand Aparna, left hand Cheenu
Mama and all the other vegetable cutters and fetchers and carriers and extras...
Actually, the cook who was supposed to have cooked for us apparently died
suddenly, and the substitute never turned up. So the Wildertrailers, led by
Senior J, rolled up their sleeves and set to work in true camp style.
Evening was time for camp talk and merry-making over rasna and snacks, and
even as the lantern burned low late into the night, the conversation carried
on in low voices, till finally each drifted off into his own musings...
Morning was time again for yet another short trek through some very scenic forest where the group saw tracks of wild boar, jackal, civet. And, oh yes, an unforgettable stick mantis - but that's another story...
When's the next weekend trip? - I want more details.
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