Sahyadrica

It does not take long for a murmuring river to turn into a raging cascade, yet it is no match to the prowess of the tall terraces of northern Western Ghats. The rapids are strong to make crossing the river difficult, but not enough to complete the journey to the foot of the mountain. It falls, only to rise in countless little fractions of its former self as mist, dancing to the tune of the winds orchestrated by the mountains themselves. It is only when the waters rage on, fueled by the south-west monsoons, do they spill down the amber facades of the Ghats, touching their feet as they reform their ancestral channels. Walking the leopard's path, with an inverted waterfall to the left, and other two forming Kalu river downhill The range officer pointed to a high precipice from where a river came crashing down, and he said, that’s where we’re headed. Under a shroud of torrential rains, we could glimpse at the full glory of the fall whenever the clouds dispersed. To the right of...

The distinct nests of the Crematogaster ants, like oddly shaped footballs suspended precariously from the edge of a branch or jutted between two, remind me that I am in a familiar landscape. They’re quite rare to come by in the central Indian highlands where I now stay. These pagoda nests, as they are called, stand out starkly up in the trees. They are called pagoda nests because their papery roof-like structures made from wood pulp appear to be piled one above the other, like a pagoda temple – an adaptation used by the Western Ghat species of Crematogaster ants to drain off the rain. I’m looking at a forest that is seven years older since I last saw it – and it looks beautiful – the hills that roll in front of me are straddled with lianas embracing their host trees, and the fruiting of figs has brought together the most iconic of this forest’s species together. The smell of the forest is the only thing that hasn’t changed in all these years – it is still indescribable but rem...

by Vivek Kale The grassland around us was lit silver under the moon light. Darkness prevailed as the moon waned behind Telbaila. The dark sky was ornamented with numerous stars, with an occasional streak of crashing meteor blazing the eastern horizon. Moon setting over Telbaila, a giant blade-thin geographic feature of Sahyadri At dawn the eastern skies were lit again, this time in a subtle shade of red. With the sun arrived the delicate golden rays that lit the entire grassland golden bright. And then winds awoke, caressing the grass merrily. A lone harrier glided in the sky, just few meters above the grass, and vanished beyond the bushes which dotted the golden fields. Telbaila and the surrounding grasslands under the early sun While the golden grass crowned the pinnacles, the shadow on the precipitous Harishchandragad cliff started shifting slowly downwards. The entire view was a drama set in a large amphitheater. We could see a pair of endangered vultures, restin...

“You have to get lost before you can be found.” ― Jeff Rasley , Bringing Progress to Paradise: What I Got from Giving to a Mountain Village in Nepal The sun setting over your shoulder in a forest wilderness as a dark rainstorm approaches from the east is not the time for you to be out trekking on the cliff of the Western Ghats. But here you are: with your trekking friends and family, battling to conquer the fort, struggling with your inner fears; and here you want to be: beating down the stinging rain, and ever marching on. For you have shed blood and sweat on your way up. For you have prepared to complete this trek, and, more importantly, you have left behind the rat-race which you think life is all about: now, you are not chasing targets, you are chasing your ambition. You are encouraging your friends to tarry with you. You are their emotional leader, and although you know that the light fades and you’re being stalked by a rainstorm, you sit back on a rock to enjoy the view w...