Immersing Ganesha - An ode to broken things?

The Chilean poet Pablo Neruda may well have been talking of the immersion of Ganesha, thinks Sahastrarashmi as he presents a tableau of pictures from the beach at Pondicherry


Let's put all our treasures together
-- the clocks, plates, cups cracked by the cold --
into a sack and carry them
to the sea
and let our possessions sink
into one alarming breaker
that sounds like a river.
May whatever breaks
be reconstructed by the sea
with the long labor of its tides.
So many useless things
which nobody broke
but which got broken anyway.


~ PABLO NERUDA
From Ode to Broken Things

Photographs by Sahastrarashmi
Text from a poem by Pablo Neruda

All's not well in the bat-cave

If we as a people so revere nature, why do we go to so much trouble to disfigure it?

The view from Kavala Caves, Dandeli

Is there a legit word ending in “phobia” for the fear of being ripped off? Whatever it is, it was on our minds when we set out early in the morning from Dandeli's Kulgi Nature Camp for a safari. Safaris are always dubious deals – at the outset you are force-fed the disclaimer that every sighting banks on “good luck”, which is thereafter effectively neutralised by the grunting and gnashing diesel vehicle that ferries you around the forest.

Our destination that morning was Kavala Caves, 25 km inside the forest and accessible only by a 2 km walk from a waterhole where the jeep track ends. Part of that walk also descends into a valley from where you can see and hear the roaring rapids of the dark and beautiful Kali river.

The Kali is a gorgeous, gushing torrent of darkness

Birders can be exasperatingly enthusiastic morning persons and our poor “guide” hadn't bargained for that when he fixed our itinerary the night before. Well before the appointed hour we roused his recumbent self with hollers and heavy knocking. To the end that he very evidently forgot to brush, and every time he turned to us to proffer guidance we shrank back, nearly asphyxiated.

When we left, the camp was still in darkness and pale veins of dawn light were draining the ink from the sky. In the murky forest we passed the odd shadowy elephant and several feral buffaloes that played tricks with our eager eyes. As the day brightened we saw spotted deer, jungle fowl, peacocks and a solitary barking deer.  


Our walk to the caves took longer than usual, much to our impatient (and perhaps hungry) guide's chagrin. En route, we stopped to chase butterflies, admire a displaying Black-naped Monarch and an Elliot's Forest Lizard. Our first sighting of Malabar Pied Hornbills occurred on this walk. There were enough sunbirds, ioras and swifts en route to delay us further. Then we argued over a Shaheen Falcon's identity, some of us contending that it might have been a Black Baza. Morning light and its myriad tricks! 

In the mouth of the cave, which has effectively been transformed into a shrine

Winding steps led us down to the cave. As we approached it, a familiar haunting reek of disused attics assailed us -- the rank odour of bat droppings. These were limestone caves and the interiors should have been white or, at least, whitish in appearance. But then again, caves with stalagmites and stalactites have long awakened religiosity in kindred souls and, true enough, the stalagmites here are worshipped as Shivalingams. 

Stalactites darkened with soot

The interiors of a limestone cave are usually white or whitish, unlike these darkened by oil and smoke from offerings

On Mahashivaratri, which falls every year in February or March, thousands of pilgrims are allowed into the national park. And they bring along votive offerings in incense sticks, oil for lamps, cotton wicks, coconuts, bananas, flowers, earthen lamps, milk in sachets and packed refreshments to nourish them on their pilgrimage. And how did I know all of this? Just by looking around. 

The inside of the shrine houses a stalactite that is worshipped as a Shivalingam, and our guide quickly got down to business and was perhaps slighted when we did not join in

Our guide was also possessed of sudden devotion inside the cave and he lit the incense sticks that he had brought along. Later, when I brought up the matter with him, he seemed offended that I should place the welfare of sundry forest creatures over the appeasement of the Almighty. If only our forest staff could be trained to differentiate among simple priorities.

We traversed parts of the cave on bended knee, and sometimes all fours

The task of cleaning up after religious rituals is left to the Lord who, having other things on His agenda, never gets round to it. Over the years, garbage has accumulated in and around the caves. Carrying it all back to Dandeli is an idea that has never occurred to those responsible for the park's maintenance, and the caves' distance from the nearest camp doesn't help its cause.

Pligrims have dumped leftover grain under a tree outside the caves

Once inside the caves, parts of which we traversed crawling on all fours, we were aghast to observe that the interiors were blackened with soot. The smooth limestone structures were discoloured from so many years of touching. It was also hot and humid and we started to feel slightly claustrophobic.

Pilgrims have left behind litter of every description

As we emerged from another part of the cave towards the light, we disturbed several roosting bats, which flitted in and out uttering tiny shrieks -- perhaps the only human-audible sounds in their ultrasonic repertoire. None of us were bat experts, and we couldn't determine the species. The bat had large ears, a longish, slightly upturned snout and a dark brown stripe on the sides of the throat. I managed a decent photograph, which might help us identify it.

Bats inside the cave

We returned from the caves struck by their beauty but appalled at how they had been ritually defiled. This experience was in stark contrast to one I enjoyed at Mercer Cavern, a limestone cave in California, which I had visited in 2001. While those caves had no bats, they were nearly pristine, illuminated thoughtfully in white and beige and pink, with only one calcite structure reserved for visitors to touch and feel. Unfortunately, even if we get round to addressing our problems, we will always have too much of religion to deal with.


Text and photos by Beej
Read other posts from Dandeli

Kiln Fields - How brick kilns hurt the environment

The brickmaking industry gradually converts fertile fields into sterile lands. Here's how it's done...

Sarus Cranes take flight outside a brick kiln in Uttar Pradesh's Rae Bareli district

As a kid when I used to take a bus to go outside the village, usually to Kanpur, the brick chimneys were on my list of wayside wonders. The sites were marked by huge twin maroon chimneys and they dominated the surrounding countryside. I never managed a visit any of them, but I knew they were brick kilns (or ita bhatta in the local language). I could only imagine what went on inside their huge ovens, which churned out hundreds of thousands of deep-red bricks that were used to build our houses. 


My grandfather once showed me the marking on the bricks excavated from our home – BSB. It stood for Bishwambar Nath Bhat, the owner of the brick kiln that supplied quality bricks for our home more than 100 years ago. It was the only one in the district. 


So fascinated was I by the markings on the brick that while hunting for bugs and scorpions underneath old bricks, I would observe the markings first. From just one in the district at the beginning of the twentieth century, brick kilns have now multiplied. So have their tell-tale signs – dug-out orchards, scarred fields, huge red chimneys belching smoke, chimneys under construction, fields full of clay bricks ready to be being carted to the ovens... 


Fuelled by the recent shift in economy, construction activity has boomed. New houses, shops, godowns, roads, panchayat houses, schools, hospitals and more brick kilns – everything requires them. It has become a lucrative industry. 


This is a photo-feature on the brick kilns and their impact on the surrounding environment. 


The Dug Out Orchards

Fresh land is acquired for brick kilns. Often, these are orchards with standing trees

Land is cut away around the roots of trees

This is a very common practice and a slow killer. The land surrounding the trees is cut away. The idea being that mature trees can keep producing the fruits anyway, at least for a few years after which they will collapse due to root injuries or erosion of the remaining soil. Then the orchard will be used as a regular field.

Over time, the trees die from root damage

The Scarred Fields

After the trees are gone the fields, divested of topsoil, turn fallow

Steep banks are formed by continuous water erosion

These are either the unproductive “usar” or fallow lands, usually in the village commons or bought off from farmers in need of money. The contract is for 3-5 years post which the hollowed out fields are returned to the farmers to eke out the meager and largely diminished harvests. Sometimes the soil removal is opportunistic and helps carve out fields from uneven ground. This results in steep banks where the field rat holes become nesting holes. A bank near my home is now used by swallows.

Holes in the banks can sometimes support animal life, like rats and hole-nesting birds such as swallows, hoopoes, bee-eaters and rollers

Breaking New Ground 


To keep the kilns running, new fields are obtained every few years. They are then dug upto 6 feet deep – a process that can take 3 years.

New fields are acquired to keep the kilns running

The Kiln

Enormous chimneys crown the furnaces in which the bricks are baked

The chimney is a part of the huge central semi-circular furnace surrounded by a U-shaped moat-like space, which is stacked with bricks. One batch can run for almost 6 months. The kilns are fired using local wood which, apart from topsoil consumption, constitutes the second huge impact on the local environment.

Fresh bricks are cut out from the kilns

Brick-making consumes a large quantity of firewood, taxing the local environment further

Text and Photographs by Sahastrarashmi