Bonding with Bondla

After travelling for more than two hours, the rattling sound of the bike stopped. Though the noise took pauses in-between when I zeroed down the accelerator to ask a few passer-by the destination that I had to reach. But then the 125 CC machine gained full throttle as I rolled the grip. Licking the tar, kissing the pebbles, smelling the cow dung, inhaling the heat, eating the fuel, hugging the pathway, escaping the potholes, enjoying the bumps, huffing through the ghats, embracing the bridges, the bike eventually had to halt at the check-post of a sanctuary sprawling languidly in an area of eight kilometres.

A bloke stood next to the post holding a rope that was used to release and bring down the red & green coloured log. We learned from him that the bookings were a must to find a shed amidst the sylvan. But a few negotiations with the sanctuary's in-charge, who were passing by, opened gates to the tiniest sanctuary - Bondla.

Spring had just started unveiling its true colours. The region was getting a deciduous touch. The chlorophyll was getting dull and the foliage were leaving its branches to make way for the fresh and intensifying summer rays.

From the forest officer’s office, I took the key of a cottage. It was a perfect hermitage; secluded within the woods, quietly witnessing the wild scenario, divulging forest secrets, silently. Don’t know for how long? It seemed that the place had woven stories around it, full of mysteries waiting for someone to explore and to listen to.

The night arrived with its two better-halves, stars and darkness; both in a mood to enthral. The first makes you to fall in love with it. While the other invites you to travel through its black beauty.

I once again met the forest officer sitting right opposite to the cook on a dinner table at the sanctuary’s restaurant, which was completely isolated from the cottages and the office. To reach at the restaurant was like a mission. Two of us, unguarded, argus-eyed, vigilant, were walking on an alley that is often accessed by the wild.

A small chat uncovered some of his nightmarish encounters with the Leopards that happened over the last 16 years of service. The officer narrated that once they had a dog, alert and agile all the time. His favourite place to sit and woof were the office steps from where he used to keep check on every noise or movements occurring within the woods. It wasn’t too late in the evening when suddenly his woofing stopped. When the officer along with his colleague stepped out to checkout, all they found was the body marks of their hound on the cemented flooring, clearly indicating that he had been hauled deep into the jungle. The incident ran chills down my spine not because the dog was dragged away but because moments ago before stepping in to the restaurant, I and my friend were lounging on the same office steps.

We had our dinner and took the same dark alley to go back to the cottage. My thoughts kept wandering through the thick, obscure and transparent black layers with a curiosity to encounter mystifying movements. But I knew that it’s a game that our mind plays all the time. We create and break uneven situations. Decide possibilities, which eventually seem stupid. The fancies get engrossed in a flick, whose camera keeps rolling until the subconscious gets lost in a deep slumber.

The morning cooed on a chirruping note. The whisper of the Aves grew bigger and bigger with a mellifluous touch. Tranquility journeyed like the unstoppable air. Leaves rustling were on and off as the air played peekaboo. Rays travelled miles to embrace the terrains, ushering new life. The whole scene seemed like an orchestra, where everyone was willingly participating in the symphony.

Though the sanctuary’s occupants were already out to satiate their appetite, its only restaurant’s custodian was still snoring out loud on his bed. We had to come out to find a breakfast corner. We found one roadside house whose veranda was converted in to grocery shop cum restaurant, meeting the basic needs of the people living within the vicinity.

When we came back, the orchestra was in full swing. Starting with the flock of Vernal Hanging Parrots, they simply performed by hop-skipping from one branch to another like the circus acrobats. Off they went and came in the ubiquitous Brown-headed Barbet, monotonously singing its renowned kutroo-kutroo. And then appeared in tandem, the Red Whiskered Bulbul, Oriental Magpie Robin, Blyth’s Starling, Scarlet Minivet, Indian Oriole, Laughing Dove and Jungle Babbler; flapping their wings and voice to the beat. While all these performances received a great round of applause from us, a Pheasant couple without appearing in the open, played euphony in the background that simply stole the show.

We rode a little further just to discover that while many birds found delight in the concert, an Oriental Dwarf Kingfisher was busy catching its prey. Even the Emerald Dove, the magnificent of the lot, blended itself in the branches.  

When we moved on to our cottage, we came across a pond-side venue, where the splendid Woolly-necked Stork was silently practising for the ongoing orchestra. We hid ourselves to capture the rehearsal through the lenses, but our stupid movement made him shy and off he flew to perch at a distance.  

The cottage surrounding was buzzing with symphonies. As the cluster of Purple-Rumped Sun Birds, Warblers, Black Drongo, Jungle Myna, Green Bee Eater Common Iora, Common Tailor Bird, Monarch Fly Catcher, Greater Racket-tailed Drongo and Malabar Trogon, outshone themselves just by their emblazoned appearances.

The sanctuary also houses a menagerie, which was initially opened as an asylum for the rescued animals from across Goa. Though the caretakers kept the wildlife in a good condition but to find them in a cage was a pity. Sympathy started flowing down within me like the flowing river. But then the ultimate call of a Grey Malabar Hornbill perched right above a branch that crept through the Leopard’s enclosure distracted my thoughts and made me realise that this is the best way to protect the wild from the poachers, so that the next generations revere them and share a long-lasting bond.