THE TRIP THROUGH THE NIGHT

THE TRIP THROUGH THE NIGHT

The afternoon was rather cold for the season. The winds, which heralded the change  of season, though not strong, made howling sounds while passing through the tips of tall silver oaks. It could become stronger towards the nightfall rattling the tin sheets roofs of houses and chilling the people inside. 

The roads and fields were deserted. Saturdays were half working days. In the afternoon most of the estate workers choose to remain at home attending to their personal needs or sleeping. 

We had planned the trip for earlier - before noon. But my father came late from the office and was not in a good mood. Something my mother said in the morning did not go well with him. So we started out on our motorcycle without taking lunch. We knew it was late, but the urge to complete the work we planned dragged us to Vattavada some 10 miles away.

On the way my father stopped the motorcycle and drank water from a stream not far from home. I felt bad. I could have run home and got good water for him. But he said it was ok.

Our intention was to meet a Government official at Vattavada. We were able to meet him. But our business took longer than we thought and  delayed our return. There was a lot of persuasion from my father's friends to stay back for the night.  The danger from wild elephants was too high in those days. According to them few herds and  loners were camping  in the nearby forests. It included the dreaded loner, "Kolli" the lightning. The loner was notorious for his speed and destructive power, still we decided to return home with out delay. The resolve in us was so strong that we started out immediately.

We had hardly covered some five miles, the motorcycle broke down. It stopped all of a sudden and refused to start. It was tough to make a choice between the two alternatives we had, to go back or go ahead. Both were equally risky.We decided to go forward taking the shortest route which involved climbing the hill we avoided while coming by the motorcycle.

The climb took more time than we thought. Near the summit we came across some dry twigs on smothered grass.To me they looked as if some large animal was resting over them. The thought of Kolli sent a chill down my spine. But my father pointed out the possibility of someone taking rest, putting down the firewood he collected. Anyway we abandoned our plan to gather the twigs. We had a match box with half full of sticks with us. We knew the matchsticks were not of much use unless we had something like dry twigs. But there was little time to lose. By the time we reached the summit, from where the tea plantation started, it was almost dark.

We hurried  down the hill, to make use of the light available, but soon it was dark. We could hardly see the road in front. Our talks became less frequent and less loud. We could hear the noises of the forest clearly. In forest everything that is silent during the day makes a lot of sound in darkness. I lighted a matchstick, it was of no use. It only blinded me for a few seconds. Again a chill ran down my spine. I could feel the shivering in my voice.

My father took off his coat and put it over my shoulder. I handed it back whispering that I am wearing a sweater beneath my shirt. He did not reply, giving me a feeling that he is  listening to some thing.

Then the wind direction changed. It blew full blast on our faces. With the  wind came there stench of animals and shouting of people and the sound of beating tins. There was no need to guess. The elephant. "Oh my God Not Kolli" I prayed.  

We stopped walking and listened. Suddenly, it was all silent . But the smell remained strong. I felt my father's hand on my shoulder, strong and restraining. We stood still for a while, I  had lost all the sense of time. Then I felt my father's hand clenching. Suddenly I became aware of the vibration of earth. He pushed me down the slope on the side of the road into the tea plants. The tea plants were pruned recently. The sharp ends of the branches scratched my body, tearing my clothes. I felt no pain. But. I could feel the urgency in the pressure of the hands on my shoulders. We went down the slope fast till we reached a large rock. We went around it and stooped behind it.

The noise on the road stopped suddenly. Then it became hell broke loose. He was attacking something, in between there were breaks accompanied with trumpets. He was celebrating his victory over his adversary. It continued for a while.We had no idea how long it was. Then the sounds became less frequent and then stopped. But the heavy breathing told he is still not far from us. After one more trumpet of victory he moved on. We still waited for a long time. The stench and his footsteps became faint and died out. Still we did not dare to talk. Stooping we moved through the tea just like small animals on their fours till we saw the electric lights of the factory and a faint light we knew was our house. It seemed it took a long time to reach the road leading to the factory. 

As soon as we reached our house, we had a short hot shower and went to bed. We did not tell anybody about the motorcycle or the attack. We had decided to go early in the morning to get the motorcycle. 

We got up early before anyone and retraced our night's route. We reached the place of attack soon. We could easily recognise the spot. My father's coat was shredded into strips. Hanging on the tea plants the strips told us the intensity of last night's violance. We collected the strips and rolled it into a bundle and hurried to the motorcycle. It started without difficulty.

On our way back we stopped at the stream.

Father tucked the coat below a rock in the stream. "Yes it saved us but we cannot take it along with us" he paused for an instant.

"It was readily available because you handed it back and that gave me the idea" he stopped. He was expecting my view on the situation.

"The  matches were of no use, the light of it only blinded us" I said. He did not reply.

Walking back to the motorcycle I felt his hand on my shoulder again. I think he was telling me "You are correct unless it falls on things around you the light in hand will only blind you".

The Lone Tree

Surely the scribe was unaware of the stories behind the name of the estate, otherwise how could one call the Lone Tree estate  laundry Estate?

Once I happened to  read about slow meter becoming slow in 4M. It turned out to be about delay in getting flow meter for the water supply scheme. The scribe definitely had not heard about flow meters.  But even then flow meter becoming slow is unimaginable.  I really enjoyed it as a joke. But calling  the Lone Tree Estate Laundry Estate.. is cruel. Especially for those who have heard the story behind the name.

Lone Tree estate's story always made me think of the people who emotionaly equate trees to human beings .

The mount and the grass land around had no trees, though the surrounding hills were thickly forested  in those days. The hill tribes who worshipped nature had a small temple made of uncut stones on the mount. There were no regular poojaa or prayers. The deity, a goddess, was said to be the mentor of trees and birds of the forest.

During summer rains the grass land got flooded but remained green rest of the year. The mount usually became dry during winter when nights were cold and days were hot. It led to the wild fires in summer.

The ascetic who planted two trees of a very rare variety, on the mount (said to be male and female) was hopeful of large flocks of birds nesting on them. He cared for them much, watering in summer and clearing the dry grass around to protect the young trees from wild fire. The trees grew fast accompanied with bushes and shrubs. They continued to be the only trees on the Mount. 

The young trees appeared to be in love. Many said they could hear them talking and singing during silent winter nights.

The talking trees flowered. Their first fruits attracted many birds. That year the tribals celebrated fastival of the godess after a long time. They cleared the bushes around and danced around the trees at night.

The lighting was sent by the goddess of the forest. She could not stand the.  ** young trees in love. When she watched the way people celiberated the festival around the trees she couldn't control herself.

The entire loss due to lightening was borne by the taller tree. The tribals waited for the rains to Bring it back to life. But the rains were delayed. The ascetic brought water from a stream way down to the tree for many days but he could not bring it back to life. He died trying to revive the tree.

Lone Tree grew taller, but with lesser branches and leaves and was silent in the winds. May be there was none to hear. The flowers also became scarce as no one was there to offer to. With no shade the bushes withered only grass returned in rains. No birds came  because of no fruits.

Th estates opened. Many joined as labour from the plains. They brought their own gods and goddesses with them. Slowly the tribals too joined them. 

O'Hara was a botanist from England came to study the plants of the western ghats. His friend who planted tea estate  near the mount  invited him to his estate. O'Hara was much impressed by rare tree  on the mount. He noted that there were no other trees of the species around. He liked the place and decided to settle down, planted tea in the hills and valleys  around. But the Mount with the lone tree was left alone. He had his own plans for the Mount.

On completion of the planting he went abroad on  long leave, searched the libraries, located similar trees and collected  seeds. In his last letter to his friend he said he was anxious to get back and plant the seeds. But he never came. An accident took his life.

His friend named the new estate Lone Tree Estate. Though the estate changed hands many times it's name remained the same 

The tribal people believed the lone tree is waiting for O'Hara to return with his mate. They say at night of the festival of the mount, which they stopped celebrating, they could hear the tree whistling the old melody.