Get Me Right: January 2011

POLO-I

IF the idea is to escape from civilization, why not do it when its at its raucuous most? So the journey is fixed. As the city busies itself in Modi-fied kite flying we plan to slip out to a forest. The destination takes some working. We want to go to Gir but as it turns out its a no-go area for a few days as our Union Minister for Environment and Forests, Jairam Ramesh, is going there for his first rendezvous with the Asiatic Lion.

So we head for the often talked about Polo forests in north Gujarat

First, how to reach there. Leave the NH-8 at Himmatnagar, skirt Idar town dominated by the Idar rocks (of Lava and Granite), and speed through the lush green fields on “Oh-its-like-butter” road to Polo at the tip of Gujarat’s border with Rajasthan. Its just 3 hours since we left Ahmedabad including two stopovers and we check into the forest guest house on the Varaj dam. The attendant staff is ready with food.

Post dinner, we go out to check the moon-lit jungle. The road leading to the top of the dam is through dense foliage. But it is only in the morning when we repeat the track that the full beauty of the nestled backwaters and bedecked hills is revealed. It is already leave shedding time and the reddening canopy is matched by the browned shrubbery below.

Along the way we spot three Hornbills, few Pittas, a couple of large Kingfishers, a small one in the classic pose sitting on a dead root focused on the waters below for fish, a fox sized Pond Heron, a bunch of noisy parakeets, engrossed-in-themselves pair of Treepies. Sunbirds and swifts we don't even count.

The ancient ruins of Polo belong to the 15^th century. The temples are dedicated to Sun (and in a first, to his consort), Shiva and Vishnu from the Hindu pantheon, as well as some Jain deities. The Archaeological department could have done a little better with elaborating the history part.

The scale of settlement suggests of a population that must have been large enough to justify the size of constructions, and not allow this kind of forest to grow at that time. Or, conversely, the population took great care to preserve the vegetation for it to have survived so beautifully.

It was mainly of Jains, and other business communities, which perhaps mass migrated after an unending turf war with the local tribal populace, leaving behind the present day ruins. Testimony, nevertheless, to the once thriving culture that must have been both rich and colorful.

The architecture shows full integration with the rest of contemporary India despite being in the midst of no where. There’s no river justifying the size, and even the present highways miss the Polo region by a good margin through a difficult terrain. Perhaps that explains the short lived nature of the habitation.

To soak in the mood we give up the beaten track and chart our own trail. It takes us through an undulating terrain of dried up waterways that must be cascades during rains, and increasingly dense foliage as we walk toward the next looming hill. Half-a-km into the self made walk we stop and decide to let silence speak. The jungle speaks instead. The air, and the leaves. The water, and the insects. The flora, and the fauna. The elements. All alive and communicating peace.
A monsoon revisit is already being planned.

POLO-II

INCREASINGLY it seems, inflation is only an urban middle class crib. We want to eat desi chicken in the forest which one might think is not too much to ask for in the back of beyond rural hinterland. Wrong.

Ramesh, the attendant in the guest house says he would try if he can get one from the surrounding tribal hutments for dinner but it might cost as much as Rs 400!!! Our nod and two hours later he returns empty handed. Not convinced we set out in search of a home grown chicken on our own.

The result of our search leads to the conclusion that this article begins with. Of the five odd villages we visited on our hunt, one has turned Vegetarian under the influence of some Sanskritising sect. In the rest no one wanted to part with its roosters for no reason. Not needing the money?

At Antarsumba – the place of a tribal rebellion some three years ago – I try some pop-Economics. The man selling eggs says all eggs here come from the Anand hatcheries. Transportation means the cost price is more than Ahmedabad. Same goes for the vegetables.

As the vegetable vendor explains – with mobile phones in every hand, no local farmer sells directly in the village. The produce first goes to the town trader and comes back after three-tiered commissions and transportation costs priced in. The result is veggies cost as much or even more than the neighborhood super store in Judges Bungalow Road.

Yet, and this is the crucial part, the villagers are generally happy. Even confident. Women do not show any burden of the burdensome chores mending fields, farm animals, and humdrum life. A shopkeeper speaks Hindi. Asked why he is not limiting himself to the local dialect, he almost boasts – Aapke jaise bahut aate hain yahan!

The level of confidence and knowledge of English increase in direct proportion to the amount of local brew that has gone inside the system. The drive has to be careful lest a twisty walk of a happy tribal brings him under your wheels.

Back on the Expressway to Baroda, just before the Anand exit, is an Emu farm selling Emu eggs for Rs 500 a-piece and Emu meat for Rs 2,000 a kilo. And yes desi chicken. Want to know for how much? Rs 300! In some ways civilization is better it seems