SHEKRUS are back at Lord Shiva’s doorsteps. This is probably the most heartening change in Bhimashankar. This obviously means very little compared to the environmental degradation of one of the last jungle around us. Just a fragile silver lining, one could say. But it could mean much more if it proves to be even a small step towards protecting our fast-disappearing jungles.
It could be the result of the pressure on the administration after the Mandhardev stampede. But ahead of the annual Mahashivratri fair, foresters have cleared all encroachments along the climb to the Bhimashankar temple. It is two months since the drive and Mother Nature is at work, even on the temple-steps, where the shekhrus can be seen scrambling around. Nisargo rakshati rakshitah, they say. Protect nature and it protects you.
Locals have not taken the anti-encroachment drive lightly. But I’m sure, along with the giant squirrels and other jungle-dwellers; the Lord himself must be thanking the foresters for their efforts, which should have come much earlier. Why do you think the Lord chose an impenetrable, inhospitable forest to live, my forester friend asked me. Why Bhimashankar? There is Tryambakeshwar near Nashik, Periyar in God’s own country, or even Badri-Kedar for that matter. Yet we choose to be a step ahead of the Gods themselves. Because we want roads to take us right up to the temple doors, if not the sanctum sanctorum. We wish for five-star facilities in jungles.
Well, I was telling you about shekrus. These deep brown/near purple tree-top dwellers now can be seen near the temple steps in Bhimashankar. We could even locate a nest, resembling a heap of leaves, atop an anjan tree. It was a new addition to the temple landscape, it wasn’t there before, says a forester. Cut out human interference, and nature regenerates itself.
Temple shops in pilgrim places are intriguing places. They are truly global. Some stock mineral water, chewing gum, gutkha or cigarettes brands. Others sell puja articles, malas and yantras, mystical Feng Shui articles and even loud bhajans. Bhimashankar being the jungle abode of Lord Shiva also sells herbal medicines that can cure pilgrims of anything, from diabetes to piles. Saili, who was a part of the wildlife census team in Bhimashankar sanctuary, found self- styled village doctors — vaidus — selling 18 types of herbs. She found out that these were ordinary leaves. The jungle had to fed the greed of the con men.
Temple tourism has become a worrying proposition in the State. Bhimashankar, for example, gets 5,000-6,000 tourists every day. The temple priest was particularly upset about the filth left behind. The temple is nestled in something of a trough. The first rains bring down all the dirt. This priest also doubles as a rain-measurer for the irrigation department. He has been measuring an average rainfall of 225 inches. Water runs off Bhimashankar and today it depends on tankers. None found any contradiction in the fact that a tanker feeds a kund, a sacred water tank, that is supposed to be the source of River Bhima. I have many fond memories of my trysts with the jungles. Bhimashankar I remember vividly, because it was the place where I got to meet and have a word with Kusumagraj, the Jnanapeeth laureate. I remember he did not allow me to touch his feet.
I am not sure whether I should call myself an environmentalist or a wildlife enthusiast, but I often long to be enveloped by the quiet solitude of Dandeli or Tadoba or our very own Sinhagad. These places always give me a sense of detachment. There is this vast, largely unknown, busy world around me in the forests. The people here don't give a damn for labels like 'journalists' and ‘media’. You are welcome here without any of those. Here, you can be on your own, without an audience of admirers or critics.
(First published in The Maharashtra Herald on April 28, 2005)
