O mine it is the Nilgiris Laughing Thrush!!

I was up climbing the Botanical Garden (in Ooty) early morning before anyone was around, scale beyond the fencing of the garden there is a pathway (further up is a temple, a Km further in the Shola forest is Woodhouse- an abandoned colonial cottage ...more on that sometime later. This is thick forests where Gaurs and even leopards have been spotted quite frequently). I was walking around and from the bush next to the trees came what sounded like a chuckle, almost human. It was unbelievable since i had already walked passed and this bird seemed to be mocking!. White patch over the eyes was indication that i am in the presence of Endangered Nilgiri Laughing Thrush. O mine did i feel a surge going through my body? I had to be calm since the bird is notoriously shy. A wrong move and this one will flit away- it would be devastating to miss an endangered specie, the mechanical lens was giving me problems as i focussed refocused all the while excited about the fortuitous spotting. Incredibly fortunate to have got these few good shots, memorable indeed.

Nilgiri Laughing Thrush are endemic specie to Western Ghats and are found in the Nilgiris at the elevation of more than 4500 feet. They have preference for shola edges and could be seen foraging for fruits and invertebrates in the bushes . Once quite common now it has become endangered specie (IUCN) with serious threats to its habitat and encroachments (studies show breeding success rate as low as 33%), the restricted range of the specie also add to its problems. Hopefully creation of Nilgiris Biosphere Reserve will help in conservation.

The Toda community of Nilgiris

We have sat at a place with a good view

All the hamlets are seen; all the sacred places are seen

The Toda tribal community of Nilgiris are probably the most studied tribal community in India. Though quite insignificant in numbers (as per the 2001 census there are about 1560) they are unique in many ways. Ethnically (including Kota tribes) and linguistically they are different from other tribes in the region (seems to share more with Greek Cypriots) speculating many theories. I read about a strain from Malabar, but must say though the language is classified as Dravidian but having listened to it just couldn’t decipher anything, it doesn’t really sound Dravidian. It is believed to have split from Dravidian stock before Malayalam, but carries rules of earlier derivation making it an interesting study. Other characteristic of this tribe is that they are vegetarians and life revolves around dairy with buffaloes being centre of activities- consisting of elaborate rituals and practices, the care of buffloes and the duties connected with dairy forms the sole work of toda men. Goddess Tokisya is honoured as their principal spirit. Toda hamlets are referred to as mund and their houses are half barrel shaped made from bamboo, close to the mund is another hut with smaller doorway called tirieri or Dairy temple. Also in the vicinity is buffalo open shelter called pen. Another aspect of this community is the dress- garment known as putkuli, a thick white cotton cloth with red and blue strips that is wrapped around the body. I have known about Todas from mid 1990s, and read few essays, even met some from the tribe in Delhi during a tribal meet; i was extended an invitation but somehow forgot about it.

It is only last week i took out time to explore this community (end of March being right time to travel nilgiris- Ooty to be specific- before the vacations and marauding Indian tourists). My main concern was literature, if possible some poems. Fortunately i got some help from Dr. Sathyanarayanan (Director of Tribal Research Centre), an amazingly enthusiastic man who opened the modest library at the Centre for me and even searched some books out. I also contacted Ms Sandhya of Nilgiri library, who was kind enough to share photocopy of some personal material related to Toda songs. There are three seminal writers on Toda: Murray Emeneau, WHR Rivers and Anthony Walkers. The library had all the writers including Emeneau except his Toda Songs- the one i was looking for!!. I flipped through other books for few hours till i realised it was getting late, tribal centre being on the outskirt of the city i was concerned of being stranded. Mr. Sathyanarayanan also gave few contacts one being Mr.Pothili who stays in Toda Mund within the city. Mr.Pothili turned out to be man of few words but the surprise was his wife (Vasamalli.k) an articulate lady who seemed to have dealt with outside world frequently, comfortable in English (even a hint of western accent!) she explained to me about Toda culture and so on, even ventured to sing a song about a bird, to my pleasant surprise. She wrote few lines of some toda song (i am putting the scan of the write up in here. It is a Peacock Song-wherein the prayers of toda saved the life of peacock from fire as it brought rain. The first few lines are in toda language-incidentally it doesn’t have script so uses mostly Tamil, rarely English. The next lines are literal translation in English). The picture herein is of Ms Vasamalli in front of concrete half barrel shaped house that used to be in Bamboo few decades back.

This is a song of lamentation (written by Teitnir on the death of chief Pidrvan), lament is referred to as Kundstkin. First i am putting a literal translation from Toda, then it is sought to be explained!

buffalo oh! plate oh!

necklace neck oh! trouser legs oh! car horn oh!

elephant foot oh! European oh! sambhar oh!

beautiful buffalo to eye i kept, old woman that

they said, old man that they said, Kwarzan of Kars clan

O chief seven village chief, conqueror oh!

peace loving man oh! strong man oh! kavanadi diary carried oh!

pen carried posts oh! not born before one

you were born, renowned one you were born, council

you held, money fine you imposed, buffalo fine one man to

you told, girl one to man you made, barren buffaloes

in the midst you went, buffalo to the next you went,

chosen number beat you went, chosen number you ran before,

leg dance you danced, your one new things

you made, your one invention you made, to-day eye

face i saw, kars kazun has it come? kwarzan of kazun

has it come? burning place at ashes heaped, azaram at grass

grew up.

Before i go into understanding the above it need be pointed out that the rituals associated with death includes sacrificing buffalo, that in itself is an elaborate procedure (documented in detail by Rivers, Walkers). The dead buffalo in the lament is equated with the deceased. The first part in this lament is for the buffalo and the next is for the dead.

O, your legs like trousers, your horns like a car, your foot

is like that of an elephant, you walk a step like European soldier,

your appearance is like that of a sambhar, i saw you were the most beautiful buffalo of all

they said you would be the parent of the dead, but now you are dead yourself

O chief of many villages, conqueror, peace loving and yet

strong man. You were like Kavanadi, who carried the posts of buffalo pen.

O man of wonderful birth, renowned you were born; you held councils; you fined

some by money some by buffaloes; you settled who should marry the woman.

In the midst of barren buffaloes you went; you caught the throat of the buffaloes;

you ran first and caught the buffaloes before the chosen men; well you danced and shouted finely;

you invented new things. Today for the first time i saw your face. Has the angel of death come to you?

I see nothing but ashes in your burning place. In your azaram place i see nothing but grass growing.

This one is a charming myth, i got it from Emeneau’s collection.

Origin of thunder and lightning

If you say “what is that thunder thunders in the sky?” in former times two buffaloes went to heaven-so they say.

The names of those two buffloes- Osum was one- so they say.

Pusum was the other –so they say.

These two buffloes fight at various times and knot their two tails to one another and the two buffaloes fighting pull the knotted tails, one this way and one that way- so they say.

At that time the two knotted tails crack – so they say.

It is when the two tails crack that the thunder thunders- so they say.

The two buffloes cry out- so they say.

At that time, the vapour which comes out of their mouths becoming bright, it lightens- so they say.

When the tails crack, the thunder thunders- so they say.

When the buffaloes cry out, the vapour lightens- so they say.

This is how they say that thunder and lightning are created.

I liked this song that is part of dairy ceremony which involves uttering of curse and then removal of curse. Must say it is quite fun to read!

May he die

May a tiger certainly seize him! May a snake certainly bite him!

May he certainly fall over a cliff ! May he certainly fall into a river!

May a boar charge him!

May a jungle animal seize him! May a leopard carry him off!

Reversal of curse

Instead of what we said “may he die!” “may he be well”

Instead of what we said “may a tiger certainly seize him!” “may it go on not seizing him!”

Instead of what we said “may a snake certainly bite him!” “may it go on not biting him!”

Instead of what we said “may he certainly fall over a cliff !” “may he go on not falling!”

Instead of what we said “may he certainly fall into a river!” “may he go on not falling in!”

Instead of what we said “may a jungle animal seize him!” “may it go on not seizing him!”

Instead of what we said “may a leopard carry him off!” “may it go on not carrying him off!”

Instead of what we said “may a boar charge him!” “may it go on not charging him!”

There are many more charming songs/myths like these. This blogger requests the readers to take time to read about this unique tribe, and next time you come to Nilgiris try to visit their munds. It is an enriching experience.

White bellied drongo: another cop on duty

In my early blogs i had written about Black drongo (one of the commonest bird in countryside, black fork tailed perched on electric cables) as also Racket tailed (that are found in abundance on the outskirt of thick forests), White Bellied are not common and sightings are rare. This probably was my second or third sighting. It shares the characteristic of all other drongos. 

Jean-Joseph Rabearivelo: a Malagasy poet 

One day some young poet

will make your impossible wish come true

by knowing your books,

books as rare as flowers underground,

written for a hundred friends

Jean-Joseph Rabearivelo (1901-1936) was one of the prominent poets from Madagascar –an island nation in Indian Ocean along Africa, he was involved in literary revival that swept the island during 1930s. He was born in the capital Antananarivo (Tananarive), his mother was a Malagasy aristocrat who lost her property and fell into poverty after French colonization. After a brief stint in public school, he dropped out entirely and worked at various odd jobs, all the while reading voraciously and teaching himself everything he could about poetry. He was concerned about Malagasy language (the native language of Madagascar) and tried his best to promote it despite pressure from colonial rulers. French had placed heavy restrictions on writing in Malagasy; his poetry therefore is the product of a difficult life living under French colonial rule.

To feel, believe, that roots push from your feet

and slide and turn like thirsty snakes

down to an underground spring

or clutch the sand,

and marry you to it so soon — you, alive

tree, unknown, unidentified tree

swelling with fruit you’ll have to pick yourself

Rabearivelo used Malagasy language as also his own unique version of French. At the age of 20 he published his first poems. He contributed articles to journals in his own country and abroad. A recurring theme in Rabearivelo's writings was exile. When all texts written in French were considered to belong to French literature, Rabearivelo supported bilingual works and proposed that Malagasy literature would recognize French-language texts composed by the Malagasy. To underline his point about the dual nature of the colonial culture, he wore Western style clothes under his traditional long robe. In part because of his commitment to both languages and traditions, Rabéarivelo was held in suspicion and banned from travelling by the French government. In 1930s Rabearivelo launched his own journal, Capricorne. A temperamental man he was addicted to drugs, death of his daughter accentuated the matter he spiralled into depression. Rabearivelo long sought to study in France – where most of his favourite literature originated, realising it is denied he suicided. He was only 37.

The Three Birds

The bird of iron, the bird of steel

who slashed the morning clouds

and tried to gouge the stars

out beyond the day

is hiding as if ashamed

in an unreal cave.

The bird of flesh, the bird of feathers

who tunnels through the wind

to reach a moon he saw in a dream

hanging in the branches

falls in tandem with the night

into a maze of brambles.

But the bird that has no body

enchants the warden of the mind

with his stammering aria

then opens his echoing wings

and rushes away to pacify all space

and only returns immortal.

Cactus

Here,

when the flanks of the city were made as green

as moonbeams glancing through the forests,

when still they cooled the hillsides of Iarive

crouched like bulls after food,

upon these rocks, too steep for goats,

they drew apart to guard their springs.

Lepers in finery of flowers.

Three daybreaks

All the stars are melted together

in the crucible of time,

then cooled in the sea

and turned into a many-faceted stone-block.

A dying lapidist, the Night,

setting to work with all her heart

and all her grief to see her mills

crumbling, crumbling,

like ashes in the wind,

cuts with what living care the prism.

Translation of his traditional Malagasy poem, “Lamba” (lamba- i read in the Net-means the fresh silk shrouds that is used to wrap deceased family member's remains taken from the tomb to be periodically re-wrapped. The event is an occasion to celebrate the loved one's memory and enjoy a festive atmosphere)

Few trees bloom without leaves,

Few flowers bloom without perfume

and few fruits mature

without pulp you have the foliage,

you have the perfume,

you have the pulp of the old tree

that is my race in lamba.

Your name rhymes well with legs

in this long that I chose

to protect my name of the forgetting,

in this language which speaks to the soul

while ours murmurs to the heart.

Your name rhymes well with legs

with the legs which cover

your transparent sharpness:

But you, you rhyme well with several other things in my thought.

Your appearance rhymes with rocks, in Imerina.

When there is feast and that the crowd goes on terraces:

With the strips of peaceful egrets

which come to arise on the forests of rushes

as soon as the sun capsizes.

Madagascar being an island has unique biodiversity, i distinctly recall watching a program in TV that was about Lemurs (the variety is nothing short of miracle). What is remarkable is that despite ethnic diversity and varied ecosystem Malagasy is the only language spoken by all inhabitants. Madagascar's neighbour, Africa, has 1500 languages. The island of New Guinea, only a third large than Madagascar, has 700 languages. Further Malagasy acquired a script only after colonial invasion and so the language was preserved through oral traditions. It is interesting to note that the written English script (introduced by welsh missionaries) hardly resemble spoken language. It is a question mark on competence of colonial languages, if it cannot even contain what is spoken how can it represent? It is clear that languages like Malagasy needed few more centuries to evolve and develop its own script. Socio-cultural losses through colonial invasions across the world is quite significant, in recent times market (very much constructed on western premise and defined by money power) has taken over the role of imperialism.

Some traditional poems of Madagascar with translation 

Izaho vary ary hianao rano

an-tsaha tsy mifandao, an-tanana tsy misaraka

fa isak'izay mihaona

fitia vaovao ihany

The translation

I am the rice and you are the water:

they do not forsake each other in the country,

they do not part in the town

but each time they meet, there is truly new love

***

Tsy mba nahita izay fingadongadonan'ny volana aho

Tsy mba nahita izay fikatrokatrohan'ny masoandro

taro-daingo anie aho ka taro-daingo

taro-daingo an-tsefatsefa-bato

alaina tsy azo, avela mora foana

Izany zavatra alaina tsy azo

avela mora foana izany

ka zavatra tsy aritra indrindra

Translation

I did not perceive the resounding tread of the moon,

I did not perceive the booming gallop of the sun.

I am a young laingo shoot and a young laingo shoot,

a young laingo shoot in a rocky cleft.

Attainment is impossible,

abandonment is very easy.

That which is impossible to attain,

but very easy to abandon,

is that which is most desirable.

***

Iza ry zoky iry avy atsimo?

Ikakintsika Raberoberomanga

be vositra be tsimiranga

ary ny tanany roa feno vola

ho anao ho ahy koa

ka raha tsy omeny?

raha tsy manome izy

fa fatra-pamolapolaka antsika

dia tsy mba manana antsika

fa mitodi-doha

hiverina any amin'ny anaran'ineny isika

sy ny lambantsika

fa tsingala miavona isika sy ny saina

ka izy irery no tsy tia

dia mitoto koba isika hatavy

fa ny dada tsy mba lany

izay tia samy ray avokoa

Translation

Elder brother, who is that coming from the south?

Our father, the Handsome-one-who-speaks-indistinctly

he has many oxen, many long-horned cattle,

and his hands are full of silver

for you and for me.

And if he does not give us any?

If he does not give us any,

but cuts us off in earnest,

then we will have nothing,

but we will turn back and return to our mother,

together with our lambas,

for we are proud, like the tsingala,

and our spirits are proud.

And if he is the only one who does not love,

we will grow fat pounding our own rice flour,

for there is no lack of fathers:

all those who love us are fathers.