The asphalted road ended abruptly in a small clearing with enough space to park a dozen cars and I parked my car below the tree which had a hand written sign board saying ‘Water falls’. An arrow on the board pointed to the direction I was required to take. The road had been lonely and I had not met any vehicles coming from the opposite direction except for a goods rickshaw which made enough noise and belched out enough smoke to make up for the lack of all other vehicles on the stretch of road. But for the unpleasant meeting with the goods rickshaw, the drive had been an exhilarating one.
It was the fag end of the rainy season and the surrounding jungle looked very green and bountiful. The ground was wet with the previous night’s rain. I could see wild mushrooms of different hues and sizes around the trunks of the trees. Creepers hung down from the branches and a big spider waited patiently for its prey at the center of a large web festooned with droplets of water and glistening in the rays of the morning sun which had managed to pass through a break in the clouds.
The tourist season was yet to begin and the owner of the only coffee shop in the place was lighting the stove after finishing the task of hanging out packets of chips on the string above his table and arranging jars containing biscuits and candies on the shelf next to it. The shop was a hut with a thatched roof and wooden planks placed on short logs of different heights worked as tables and benches. The owner’s pet dog slept peacefully under one of the benches. Though called a coffee shop it was presently serving just tea without milk, ‘kutti chai’ as it was called, (milk would be obtained from the nearby village only during season) and it turned out as a coffee shop only after the tourist season started.
I was intending to trek to the water fall which I had heard was a beautiful spot and this was the only time of the year which was fit for the trek. I was warned that I will have to cross about half a dozen streams which were expected to be knee deep or deeper and it had only increased the appeal of the wild. During the height of rainy season, the streams would be waist deep or neck deep and the path would be infested with leeches making the trek impossible.
After the rains, when the tourist season began, the path would turn into a ‘kuccha’ mud road infested with hundreds of rattling jeeps, ferrying tourists, mostly foreigners, to the falls. The jeeps raised enough dust to create a permanent cloud of dust over the ‘road’. The foreigners held on, with one hand, to any part of the jeep that seemed to provide some stability and vainly tried to photograph the jungle through the cloud of dust using the other hand. Their brochures had only mentioned the distant beach resorts they would be residing in and the AC cars they would be traveling to the falls, conveniently skipping the rattling jeeps and ‘kuccha’ roads.
I finished the ‘tea’ brought to me in a glass and complimented the shop owner for not using the plastic disposable cups. “I hate those cups and plates” he said “people who come here bring them and throw them all over. I hate that sight. Come look here” he took me to the back of the hut. There was a large ditch half filled with plastic trash. “Whenever I can, I go around and collect this. All of them educated and city people. Not illiterate villagers like me. I do not know what use is their education.”
I did not have anything to say. Being one of those educated city people I just bent my head in shame and walked away.
The trek to the falls was enjoyable. The fresh water streams were so clear and cool with tiny fish swimming around and the pebbles so smooth and round, I had difficulty pulling myself away from them. The sight of water cascading down the height was something to be experienced and not put in words. I sat there enjoying the atmosphere and was lost in my thoughts when I heard voices. Turning back I saw a group of students led by their teacher.
I believe they were from a city school and on a study tour of the forest as part of their curriculum. The students shouted with joy seeing the wonderful waterfall and the teachers shouted warnings not to go near the water. After the initial excitement had comedown they settled on the rocks and the teacher began explaining about plants, habitat, forests and so on. As they listened, the students munched their snacks and drank from the tetra packs they had carried. They finished, threw away the empty packs and were ready to proceed. I could not hold back. I introduced myself to the teacher and told her that she should tell them about caring for their environment and hazards of littering plastic trash in a pristine environment.
“You are right sir” she said “we could do that.” Then she thought for a second and added “but sir, it will only be a waste of time. It is NOT THERE FOR THE EXAMS”!
(This post is an entry for the online short story contest – My Pocket Story conducted by tell-a-tale.com in collaboration with youthopia.in)
