Nalamalla Hills are home to the Chenchu tribe. They have been its guardians since time immemorial and it has sustained them to this day. But the romanticism associated with the notion of a simple life sits in stark contrast to the harsh realities of grinding poverty and destitution that form the daily experience of the Chenchus. Today the Chenchus are a shadow of their former selves.
During the last week of November our team of wildlife photographers, outdoor enthusiasts along with a small documentary crew ventured on a journey into the northern tracts of the Nalamalla forests past Mannanur in Mahbubnagar district (140 kms from Hyderabad). In our quest to reach a Chenchu settlement, we ended up hiking deep inside the Farahabad Tiger Reserve - home to panthers, monkeys, bears and of course tigers.
After a 12 km jeep ride inside the reserve, we were informed of a settlement that can only be reached by foot. The hilly path leading to the settlement was littered by pug marks and droppings of carnivores and pits dug by sloth bears - the group decided then and there to stick together. The end of the 6 km march through the deciduous jungle was marked by the menacing howls of the semi-wild dogs that signals the proximity of a Chenchu village. We had reached Bhiarapur Penta.
Bhiarapur Penta is situated next to an ancient temple on the banks of a small man-made lake. Katraju, the Chenchu ‘pedda manishi’ or headman of the village tells us that their village lies on the old forest pilgrim path to Srisailam used before the time of roads. This also signifies constant contact with the wider society explaining the prevalence of Shaivism in the area.
The village itself was spread over a wide area with the huts spaced out - apparently to avoid brawling after drinking. On visiting individual huts, we inevitably find someone ill. Fevers are a running theme here and the frail bodies of the Chenchus do not offer much resistance. Slowly the hardships of the Chenchus unravel before our eyes - they do not practice agriculture and are not allowed to hunt, their kids have to walk for miles through the forest to get to and from school, they depend on the government for food-grain and pulses. The threat of being relocated from their home plays on their mind and they do not believe they can survive outside their forests.
We left Bhairapur Penta after a day spent among the Chenchus - all the while reminded of contrasts and commonalities that we held with them. On the jeep ride out of the reserve, we met a Chenchu man employed by the forest department as a wildlife spotter. After the spotter had shown us his skills with his bow and arrows, one of our group members struck a conversation with the spotter, cheekily asking the him if it would be alright if one of us were to marry a Chenchu girl. The spotter instantly got annoyed and retorted “evari kulam lo valu undali” (“a person should stay within his community”) before curtly parting with us. We had finally met the Chenchu.
(Written for University Monthly - Osmania Courier and therefore the content & tone)
During the last week of November our team of wildlife photographers, outdoor enthusiasts along with a small documentary crew ventured on a journey into the northern tracts of the Nalamalla forests past Mannanur in Mahbubnagar district (140 kms from Hyderabad). In our quest to reach a Chenchu settlement, we ended up hiking deep inside the Farahabad Tiger Reserve - home to panthers, monkeys, bears and of course tigers.After a 12 km jeep ride inside the reserve, we were informed of a settlement that can only be reached by foot. The hilly path leading to the settlement was littered by pug marks and droppings of carnivores and pits dug by sloth bears - the group decided then and there to stick together. The end of the 6 km march through the deciduous jungle was marked by the menacing howls of the semi-wild dogs that signals the proximity of a Chenchu village. We had reached Bhiarapur Penta.
Bhiarapur Penta is situated next to an ancient temple on the banks of a small man-made lake. Katraju, the Chenchu ‘pedda manishi’ or headman of the village tells us that their village lies on the old forest pilgrim path to Srisailam used before the time of roads. This also signifies constant contact with the wider society explaining the prevalence of Shaivism in the area.
The village itself was spread over a wide area with the huts spaced out - apparently to avoid brawling after drinking. On visiting individual huts, we inevitably find someone ill. Fevers are a running theme here and the frail bodies of the Chenchus do not offer much resistance. Slowly the hardships of the Chenchus unravel before our eyes - they do not practice agriculture and are not allowed to hunt, their kids have to walk for miles through the forest to get to and from school, they depend on the government for food-grain and pulses. The threat of being relocated from their home plays on their mind and they do not believe they can survive outside their forests.
We left Bhairapur Penta after a day spent among the Chenchus - all the while reminded of contrasts and commonalities that we held with them. On the jeep ride out of the reserve, we met a Chenchu man employed by the forest department as a wildlife spotter. After the spotter had shown us his skills with his bow and arrows, one of our group members struck a conversation with the spotter, cheekily asking the him if it would be alright if one of us were to marry a Chenchu girl. The spotter instantly got annoyed and retorted “evari kulam lo valu undali” (“a person should stay within his community”) before curtly parting with us. We had finally met the Chenchu.(Written for University Monthly - Osmania Courier and therefore the content & tone)
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