One Mile to Go

 One Mile to Go

Priya’s first thoughts on the One Mile Corridor

The Malabar whistling thrush calls enticingly as we set foot on the One Mile Corridor. Its haunting tune trails through the lush green canopy, clinging to the tree bark and leaving a sweet echo in its wake. The forest rustles gently, and our feet squelch the damp soil. The winding trail is full of leaves in various stages of decay. Fecundity. We steady ourselves on sturdy tree trunks, swinging like the overgrown land ape we humans are, and letting our feet find the firmest ground. Human instinct is not so far removed from nature when we stop thinking and let our bodies take over. The chaotic arguing that we had kept up in the bus ride into KMTR fades as we ascend the slope, the gurgling of the Manimuthar River taking over our senses. The thrush sings again, a few echoing, ghostly notes, and suddenly, the booming call of a lion-tailed macaque, one of five primates found in these forests, startles us. The lion-tailed macaque is a shy creature, preferring to live in the wet evergreen forest far from human interaction. A few of us crane our necks, searching desperately for a sight of this furry black primate, but it evades us persistently. 

Lichens grow thick and furry on the tree trunks, adding to the deep green hues of the forest. This is a wet evergreen forest, one of the southernmost stretches of the Western Ghats below the Palghat Gap. Carrying the proud label of tiger reserve, KMTR forms the catchment area for 14 rivers and streams and is part of the larger Agasthyamalai Biosphere Reserve straddling Kerala and Tamil Nadu. According to the IUCN (International Union for the Conservation of Nature), the Agasthyamalai Hills at the centre of KMTR are one of five regions of immense biodiversity and endemism in India. Standing in the middle of this dark forest, the feeling of being watched by countless hidden forest denizens sends shivers down my spine. While KMTR is home to a measly four tigers, leopards, wild dogs, civets, leopard cats, jungle cats, and elephants roam here. Every square inch of KMTR was wild. 

 One glance at our hiking shoes tells us that we have stood still for far too long. Slender, wriggling leeches squirm up our pant legs, trying to find their way to the tender skin below. Luckily, my pants are well and truly tucked into my pink bunny-rabbit socks. I wonder if leeches feel disappointment. Regardless, they are persistent little creatures and they continue their slippery path up our field pants, hoping to find an available route inwards. After all, in a large group, at least one person is likely to have succumbed to carelessness and forgotten to tuck in a stray corner. Flicking them off is too difficult, and I leave my fate to the gods of the forest. A loud yelp tells me that Shruti has not been quite so fortunate.  

 A tiny pink and white flower catches Dr. Ganesan’s sharp eye. Hidden among the dense green undergrowth, it is as delicate as a blush staining a girl’s cheeks. We squat around it, whipping out our field notebooks and pens. Dr. Ganesan proclaims it to be Impatiens, a genus of flowering plant that is endemic to these forests and very, very rare. Yogesh is beyond thrilled - this is his long sought-after study species after all! We crowd around the flower, and once again I am struck by the delicateness of life in these ancient forests. Tigers may roam in this landscape, but tiny buds and creepy-crawlies reign supreme when it comes to sheer diversity and abundance. 

A flash of purple and beige catches my attention. A Malabar giant squirrel squeaks and scampers along a tree branch some 15 feet off the ground. It pauses to study us with beady black eyes. Like other jungle creatures that have barely interacted with humans, it is unafraid. After a few seconds of staring, the squirrel loses interest. Juicy berries await, and competition is high. 

As it vanishes, a light drizzle begins to fall.