Elephant Walk

Description of a summer job: wake up at the crack of dawn, herd 15 elephants back to camp, bathe them, catch fish for breakfast. While at it, load and secure three quintals of cement on each animal's back, set out on the day's journey and hunt along the way before setting up camp for the night. Repeat the next day.

Rupjoy Dewan, 23, took the job, but declined the daily wage of Rs 35. He was keener on exploring Namdapha forest, learning elephant commands and a spattering of the tribal language to pass off as a local when questioned by armymen at Gandhigram and Bijoynagar, near the Indo-Myanmar border. Armymen at Gandhigram and Bijoynagar, near the Indo-Myanmar border.At Deban village, Arunachal Pradesh, on official NGO business, Rupjoy had chanced upon a 15-man mahout-hathi group heading to Bijoynagar, with cement for a mini hydel project.

`I had finished what I had come to do and was just planning to visit nearby villages when the mahouts appeared from nowhere. Some friendly chit-chat later, I asked them if I could go along. They declined,` Rupjoy says. `But they were short of an assistant and superstitious. It was easy to make them realise that it was divine intervention that made us meet. And I would do all the hard work for free.` `I do not think they fell for the divine intervention bit, but they jumped at the prospect of getting to keep a larger share of the profits,` he adds. `I was introduced to the Rabi, the mahout I would travel with, and my mount Champakali, a 17-year-old elephant around 10-feet at the shoulder.`

Formalities completed, the journey began at first light the next day. Following the Nao-Dihing river that snakes through Namdapha forest the party pressed through the dense jungle, the elephants making light work of the stubborn vegetation that blocked their path every so often. `The animals would knock down the smaller trees and flatten shrubs and tall grasses with their trunks with ease,` Rupjoy recollects. `Champakali was in the middle of the 15-elephant file and so I missed most of the action that was happening up front.`

The first night's camp was in the middle of nowhere. The mahouts let the elephants free to graze through the night as Rupjoy set about lighting a fire to roast the meat. Eating done, they rolled out gunny bags to sleep on.

`It was quite cold and I decided to make myself comfortable in my sleeping bag. Just as I zipped myself in, I realised everyone else was shaking their heads in disapproval,` says Rupjoy. He asked them why and Rabi answered: `The precious seconds you waste unzipping that thing might mean the difference between life and death if wild elephants or a tiger should visit our camp tonight.`

Early next morning, the mahouts out herding the elephants showed Rupjoy pugmarks some 100 metres from the camp. `I never zipped myself in for the remaining seven days.`

For the next week, the team plodded on from sunrise to sunset, the river providing them with fish and the forest with deer, squirrels and the wood to build a fire, the elephants following a route embedded in their minds through the thick forest crossing hills, swamps and leech-infested terrain.

Drenched by rain, baked by the sun and battered by wind, the initial excitement gave way to extreme exhaustion. Lugging the 50 kg cement sacks on to the beasts, bathing them and sitting with legs splayed across their broad backs, the body rocking rhythmically to the movement of the animals - had taken their collective toll.

`The rush of adrenaline on the morning of the first and second day evaporated. I would spend the day waiting for night and spend the night clearing the underbrush to pitch camp, massaging sore limbs and backs, and fending off hordes of mosquitoes until, numbed by the effort, fall into a fitful stupor,` Rupjoy recollecs.

Each new day would be heralded by a menagerie of animal calls, both close and distant. But the effort required to spot the birds or monkeys was too great and Rupjoy preferred to stick to the tedium of locating the grazing pachyderms by following their tracks and droppings and herding them back to camp.

`The only thing I enjoyed was romping in the water with the elephants,` he confesses. `Distances held no meaning anymore and I would stare at the sun as if trying to hasten its westward journey.` Rabi, however, was following Rupjoy's growing `bond with Champakali`, and decided to give him a crash course on elephant handling and commands. `I got a hang of it because I did it throughout the three days that it took us to return to Deban.`

The seventh day brought a change of scenery. `The forest melted into the backdrop and up in front rose a jungle of mortar and lime. 'Bijoynagar,' Rabi said, tapping me on my shoulder to make me open my eyes.`

Rupjoy had done it, but more than that, he was done in. Dumping their load near an army barrack and after counting the money the contractor gave them, they returned to the forest to spend two days on the banks of Dihing river and rest their weary selves.

`I saw bickering hornbills, macaques and wild elephants coming to drink, but my thoughts were set on Champakali. I only had three more days with her. I bathed her well and massaged her with mustard oil before we set out on the last leg of our journey,` Rupjoy says.

Back at Deban, Rupjoy and the mahouts parted ways. `No tearful farewells. We just shook hands and went our ways,` Rupjoy smiles. Just as he turned back for one last look at Champakali, Rabi shouted out: `If you ever come back and don't find me at Diyun village, ask for Champakali. Elephants live long and have a good memory. She will never forget you`. He then prodded his companion into a trot and melted into the forest.

Courtesy
The Telegraph

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