A state that boasts of a 60 percent green cover has very few animals to show for it. In fact its State Bird, the Bastar Hill Myna, is well on its way to extinction.
Another paradox is that it's one of the youngest states in India, but its heritage can be traced as far back as the Stone Age.
Talking of the Stone Age, there's an intriguing landscape here called the Jataayu Shila, which means the Sculpture of Jataayu. It's believed that Rama and Sita, during their 14-year exile, lived in the forests of Dandakaaranya situated in the southern part of this state. As Ravana was abducting Sita in his private aircraft called Pushpakavimaana, Jataayu, a bird of gigantic proportions, obstructed his flight. Thus becoming the very first recorded case of an intentional bird-hit! Blinded with rage, Ravana sliced off Jataayu's wings, and the feathers from his lifeless wings wafted down from the bloodied skies. As they gently landed on the barren hillocks here, they were transformed into stones of all shapes and sizes. Spread over a kilometre, it's probably the largest stone installation on Earth.
Chhattisgarh is also a state where an exquisite tapestry of age-old customs and rituals has retained its colours and vibrancy. That is despite the unending flow of modern influence that permeates the porous borders that this state shares with as many as six neighbouring states.
Yet another paradox is the peaceful co-existence of two distinctly different cultures: the culture of the kings and the culture of the tribes. On the one hand is the frozen culture of the Nagwanshis that finds its progressive mindset reflected in the erotic sculptures that adorn the walls of the Bhoramdeo temple. Which is a precursor to the climax that was achieved 300 years later in the temples of Konarak and Khajuraho. And on the other hand is the living culture of the Bastar tribe. Where the amazing custom of Ghotul still exists. According to this system, a young man of marriageable age lives-in with his prospective bride for a whole year in a hut called Ghotul. If, and only if, the couple jointly decide that they are compatible and would indeed like to spend the rest of their lives together, would they be married off by the tribal elders.
The best way to see this State of Paradox is to make Raipur your base camp. Situated bang in the middle of the state, all the routes literally become the spokes of a wheel.
Our very first journey was to the Palace of Kawardha and the Temple of Bhoramdeo. Then we proceeded to our first wildlife sanctuary of the state, Achanakmar. The roads were lined with greentops after greentops on either side, but not a single wild animal was in sight. That's when I realized the perils of afforestation, or Green Commerce, if I may. The never-ending plantations of sal, teak, bamboo and tendu of course give the state a lush green canopy; but that's not enough to sustain wildlife. When natural forests give way to planted forests, along with it disappears the forest floor – a fragile network of organisms, insects, birds, reptiles and mammals. And the absence of wildlife here was all the more poignant as this forest is so close to two of the most well-known sanctuaries in India situated in the neighbouring state of Madhya Pradesh: Kanha and Bandhavgarh. If it is afforestation that is the culprit here, at Tamor Pingla, an exquisite natural forest in the northern-most tip of Chhattisgarh, it is intense Naxalite activity that has pushed the wild animals deeper and deeper into the forest.
On our way back, we visited the Badalkhol sanctuary, and here it is the relentless movement of vehicular traffic to the famous hill-station of Jashpur that has made the wild animals anxious and elusive.
It was on this trip that we chanced upon a waterfall that wasn't mentioned in any tourist map. A road-sign in the middle of nowhere said, 'Amritdhara, 15 kms.' Making an educated guess that dhara means falls, we took a detour through a mountainous path. And as we looked down into the valley from atop the mountain, there in front of us was the awesome sight of a waterfall cascading down the glistening rocks lined with prehistoric moss. Though we were to see many more waterfalls later that were much larger and more imposing, the accidental discovery of an unknown waterfall had its own secret charm. The road less traveled also took us to the banks of an ancient river, where an Egyptian vulture was quenching its thirst in the blue waters.
Passing by Mainpat, another hill-station in the neck of these woods, we came across a large colony of Tibetan refugees settled here for two generations. Replete with a mystical Buddhist monastery, it looked as if the place has been plucked straight from the Himalayan heights and transplanted here. Yes, it was a landscape from another land and another time.
Then we traversed the entire length of Chhattisgarh to reach the Kanger Valley National Park that holds two of India's most breathtaking waterfalls in its bosom: Chitrakoot and Tirathgarh. On our way to the Park we stopped by at Bastar, the famed tribal land that was equally well-known for its Naxalite rebellion. In fact, as we were noticing the Harappan influence on the terracotta work of these tribals, and admiring the minimalistic quality of their wrought iron sculptures, a series of seven landmine blasts were set off a mere 20 kms from where we were. Probably pushing the hapless wild animals still deeper into the heart of the National Park.
And then we went to Kutumsar Caves to visit an underground gallery of God's own sculptures, created many millennia ago by him using molten lava on the walls of a volcanic cave. As you enter these caves through a narrow pass in the mountain and flash your searchlight on the wet and humid walls, a hundred abstract images of stalactites and stalagmites come alive in front of you, one after the other. Like visuals in the theatre of the surreal. And you start giving meaning to those timeless forms, depending upon the state of your mind at that point in time.
A journey through the dense tropical forests here takes you to an absolutely unique waterfall: the Tirathgarh falls on the Kanger river. It's a waterfall that doesn't cascade, but gently rolls down a hundred steps carved by Nature, one step every century.
The nearby Chitrakoot falls is a study in contrast. Here the river Indravati takes a massive 100-foot free fall, instead of adopting a step-by-step approach. Falling at three different spots along a horse-shoe-shaped gorge, it's two-third the size of Niagra, yet almost as breathtaking.
On the last leg of our trip, driving back from Kanger to Raipur, we kept an eye open for a glimpse of the elusive wildlife of Chhattisgarh. Hoping against hope that there will be a repeat of our visit to the Pench sanctuary when we spotted a leopard on our last trip in the forest in the dying moments of the day. But soon I realized that in nature there is no action replay. Everything happens just once. Forever.
And we returned after a 10-day trip from the greenland of India, a state that's blessed with three National Parks and 11 sanctuaries, without any entry in our personal log-book. It's a sad comment, further saddened by the fact that the last female wild buffalo, endemic to this State, is kept in an enclosure in Udanti Wildlife Sanctuary with the fond hope of finding a mate for it so that they can go forth and multiply. And the last five surviving specimens of its State Bird, the Bastar hill myna, is kept in an enclosure in Kanger with the hope that they will procreate one day and ensure that they are not wiped out from the face of this fragile earth.
