“She was wrapped in blue. The kind of blue, at that place, where you can’t tell the sea from the sky. She was the sea. She was the sky. The blue was her tribal skin. But she didn’t know it yet.”
I’ve always been a city girl; born and brought up here. I’ve spent my childhood evenings playing lagori, lukka-chuppi, badminton, antakshari, pakda-pakdi, sakli below my building, where we had a small, namesake ground. And if and when we craved for a different space to play in, we took over the building terrace(if we were lucky, the watchman would’ve forgotten to lock it that evening). Sometimes we got lucky, but most times we didn’t. If the grounds got too boring, and the terrace locked, we would diligently go over to every one of our friends’ homes, till at least one of our mothers allowed us to play inside the house. But of course we couldn’t run and jump inside the house, so we would quietly(or not) sit in a corner assigned to us and invent games to keep ourselves entertained. We would play till around 8, and if we hadn’t been summoned home as yet, we would all sit and watch an episode each of Popeye and Scooby dooby doo.
This was pretty much our playtime routine back then.
The summer vacations were a lot more stifling. I spent hours immersed in Enid Blyton books while growing up. I craved for the kind of adventures the characters in Secret Seven and Famous Five had. I craved to live in the kind of countryside they lived in. I craved to aimlessly ride my cycle, pluck fresh fruits from trees, get lost in fields, have lakeside picnics with my best friends. I craved for spaces I could call my own, nooks and corners of the woods only I knew about, go hiking in the woods with my friends, find pretty spots where we could break for some delicious snacks. I craved to climb trees, eat freshly plucked fruits, make a bouquet of fresh flowers and get them home to mom, play in a stream, come back home tired and thirsty and hungry after a long day of doing all of these.
But there I was, in a place I can confidently say was the opposite of what I craved for. There was no countryside, no woods, no deserted cabins, hardly any trees at all, no empty roads to cycle on, no picnic spots, no pretty lakes.
So we made do with what little we had- the ground, the occasional terrace, and corners of our tiny homes.
I lived after all in the heart of Bombay.
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This year, I spent around two months in the forest areas of Wayanad in Kerala. Wayanad is one of the most beautiful places in India, and is known for its rich, wild forests. Wayanad has almost 10 different types of tribes that live in different parts of the district.
I spent most of my time there with the tribal people, and even lived with them for several days, in their settlements.
It took me several days to meet locals, become friends with them, get accustomed to my new surroundings, and for them to be comfortable and open up around a non-local. It was slightly challenging, but I had help from my relatives who lived in the same area, and some friends as well. Fortunately for me, it all worked out smoothly.
The first thing I registered when I went there the first time was that there was nothing around me but lush green foliage and acres and acres of untouched forest land. I had in front of me everything I had craved for since a long long time. But these new surroundings felt so alien to me. Suddenly I was at a loss for what to do or how to be. It felt odd walking around without footwear, with my bare feet touching the soft soil and delicate grass. It seemed odd but luxurious to sit under any tree I wanted to or to sit on the rock by the stream with my feet dipped in the cold water.
It took me a couple of weeks to get accustomed to my new surroundings. I made several tribal friends..gradually, but very very happily eased into my new surroundings, sat outside tribal huts chatting with them for hours(it helped that I’m Malayali, so communicating with them was not a problem), played with the children, chased chickens, sang with them, learnt not to be around river banks in the evenings because that’s when the wild elephants come down to the river to quench their thirst, learnt so many little tricks and secrets of the forests from them..
It was possibly the most beautiful months I’ve had in a very long time. It was the first time in my life I lived away from a city that long. And I couldn’t be happier that I did, even though it was only for those two months.
That’s the thing about having lived in a city your entire life; you are so deeply cut off from nature, you don’t know what to do or how to be when you’re put in the heart of it. You feel uneasy, because for so long you have lived only in an urban jungle.
This post is an ode to my newfound tribal skin. Blue
Photographs by the awesome Ajay Koli :*
