The book contains 12 stories, all related to wild animals; the importance of the wild life is given in all the stories.
The chill ‘Kaliani Wind’ speaks about the hidden beauty, the myths. The biggest living crocodile of the world basks on the mud flats of Bhitarkanika. The mighty river is depthless in a long gorge; the blue waters hold so much of passion, the big serpents create the tradition. The distant migratory birds throng the biggest lagoon of the country, so many colours; Chilika holds the fluid history. The turtle arribada on Gahirmatha beaches is the biggest in the world, a strange unbelievable event. The glow worms dances, the wet dark nights are so mysterious.
This book is not a reference book, the facts are collected from different sources; efforts are made to present the most authentic information in a lucid manner. It is a tribute to the unrecognized Range Officers and Foresters, due to their dedicated work the forests still holds the colour against merciless onslaught.
Ashok Biswal, IFS, has long experience in the wildlife sector. He has travelled widely through spectacular unknown valleys, touched snowcapped mountains and passed through dark forests. His work profile and interest helped him to understand the relationship between the wildlife and the society better. Earlier he authored a book “The Mystic Monpas of Tawang Himalayas”, also a collection of poems “The Nirjana Pradesh”.
The Silent Forest 07
The Moonlit Sand 18
A Gorge Twenty-Two Kilometers Long 45
The Kaliani Wind 88
The Image of the Receding Tides 125
The Northern Visitors 194
The Green Malis of Damanjodi 218
Driven to the Last Shelter 248
Kalinga, the Path Ahead 285
The Land with No Barriers ( Blackbucks of Buguda) 298
Kharsel, the Name of Transformation 313
The Forest Guards 329
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The silent forest
(The story is written on the electrocution of three wild elephants in Chandragiri area, near Paralkhemundi town in Southern Odisha)
“He was my best friend, we moved together, played together, and you know, that day we trumpeted together for the first time.” Raman, the baby elephant spoke to the rising moon, which was coming out from the Akashpakshi peak, the tallest peak of the area. The baby elephant was standing on a small earthen mound, surrounded by tall Sal and semi evergreen forest of the Deccan plateau, inside Lakhari Wildlife Sanctaury. The other trees mainly Piasal, Bandhan, Kasi, Sahaj, Bahada, Hariada, Sisoo, Sunari, Kusum, Jamun, Kendu, Mahua, and Amla were in a mixed group after the Sal forest. The terrain was mainly hilly with narrow valleys usually rugged except at the eastern strip, where the terrain was plain and had gentle slope. The hills with an elevation ranging from 300m to 1600m and above were the continuation of the eastern ghats, and were forming two plateaus featuring some of the high mountains – prominent among them were the San Tangri, Bada Tangri, Poipani Parvata, Ramachandi Parvata, Luhakhamba Parvata. The rivers, mostly seasonal, fast and furious flew through the sanctuary. Innumerable falls also dotted the vast land of the elephants.
A weak and exhausted Raman was staggering at a distance, alone, away from his mother; and was extremely depressed. The herd was standing silently, no movement of their huge ears and all were looking at the moon, with their trunks raised and eyes closed. By habit, the elephant herds are well-knit, every member is related to the other member. Mostly sisters, aunts and mothers apart from very young males constitute an elephant herd. In his herd, most of the sisters were much older and he was the only surviving young male member. They have a tradition, when some significant event ever happen with the herd, they all gather in a full moon night, near a big water body, inside the forest and convey their feelings to the rising moon. Gentle wind was blowing from the sal forest to the open space, where the elephants were standing. They were twelve in number and all were looking at the moon; their number reduced from fifteen to twelve only five days ago. The herd comprising of mostly young females and one baby, fondly called Raman; and he was the smallest, cutest and the most loved one.
The night was a full moon night and the uncut moon was coming slowly towards their head from the tall mountain top. They raised their trunks further, at the direction of the full moon. The herd was standing in the middle of a deep forest, bamboo patch on the left, Sal forest on the right and also on theback, and in the front, a big lake was extending right up to the foot of the tall mountain. The dull dark shadow of the forest was slowly disappearing with the rise of the moon. The moonlit trees, the reflection of the moon on the still water of the lake with the herd standing still in a group with their trunks raised, was giving impression of a vast canvass.
“You know, Jahnamama; Somesh and I were very good friends,” Raman told to the rising full moon of Paralkhemundi forest. Raman and other elephants affectionately call the full moon “Jahnamama” the maternal uncle, eternal uncle of all animals of the forest. They would convey their feelings to their loving uncle whenever they were in trouble or when any happy event would take place. As the full moon rose from the mountains, casting the shadow of the trees on the dazzling water of the lake, the herd gathered and conveyed their feelings to their uncle. The herd, at the sight of the full moon, used to run, trumpets, then go into the lake and throw water, come to the mud, roll, come to water again and then make merry. But on that day, they were unusually calm, not even moving their ears, standing still and were raising their trunks at the direction of Jahnamama. Tear drops were rolling from their tiny eyes and then they raised their heads further.
“I still remember his young days. After birth, he was very tender, almost unable to stand. The whole group gathered around him, I pushed all, came to the front, only to find a young one staggering in his feet. In our group when a child is born, always the aunts and sisters take care of the child so that the mother can get a lot of food, but here for Somesh, he never wished to be away from his mother. The aunts, and sister of course, cared for him a lot, but he preferred to be with his mother. For months, the little Somesh walked in between the legs of his mother. After each half an hour, he would stop for mother’s milk. Unlike others, he never liked to be away from his mother, never liked to be independent. You know, Jahnamam, in our herd, the mother loves the child so much, nurses the child for more than two years,” Raman was recollecting the memories of his friend. He had to express his grief, open his heart, his feelings before his Jahnamama. That was the tradition. Raman had to narrate his deepest feelings.
“You know Jahnamama, he was my only friend in the herd. He was the smallest and I, only two months older than him, were very good associates. Wherever I went, he used to run after me, pull me by his trunk.” Raman was speaking to the rising moon. He was sniveling and his voice was obstructed with sigh, and he paused for a while. He was unable to raise his trunk; in fact he did not have energy to do so for long. He took a little rest, raised his head again, raised the trunk; pain reflected on his forehead, tears was rolling continuously from the tiny eyes.
“Jahnamama, he was so loving so live, every one loved him. He would run a little, come back, hide below the mother’s belly, call me to touch him, then coil his trunk like a creeper with his mother’s and I never was able to pull their trunks apart. As I try hard, he used to hold his mother more tightly, and remain almost embedded to his mother’s body. After all he was the most loving child of his mother,” Raman was recollecting the behaviour of his friend. His eyes had swelled because of continuous weeping.
More than an hour had passed since the moon first appeared from the Akashpakhi peak and it was almost half way to the mid sky. The herd was standing with raised trunks since then. They were frozen, not even their tails moved, nor their ears moved; their dark structures looked like heap of stones, and the raised trunks appeared like the pre-historic flora raising form the bumpy earth. All, at one time took long breaths and drowned their trunks together.
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