Perched atop a high ledge the langur sits silhouetted against the pre-dawn sky, its white fur barely catching the first rays. It is alone, and its distant gaze looks inward. We are both infused with the rich stillness around us as the dawn paints the towering cliffs scarlet. Nestled below is an idyllic valley textured with tilled patches. I descend down sharp switchbacks, past sheer walls of sandstone striated with veins of river pebbles. Contents of a river bed at 2,500 feet reveals much about the upheavals these lands have seen. At the valley floor, a turn in the red earth track skirts a tall palash aflame with spring, and brings me to a tribal village. A dry wind whistles through empty hutments. The village folk are away working on road construction. I saw them camped out near town, in fire-lit huddles. The unfit are left behind, in rural grace.
I am outside Pachmarhi, in the shadow of Dhupgarh, the highest peak in the Satpura range. Pachmarhi first entered my system through a sari: raw silk, the colour of sand. On it, rendered with simple quilt stitches in maroon thread, was a giant dance circle with at least a hundred dancers. Geometric figures with linked arms swirled in a tight spiral to the centre, where a figure with wild hair beat on a drum. I wore this sari for years until one day a friend said, ah, cave art at Pachmarhi. Whether or not the diagnosis was good, Pachmarhi had made its entry. And now, I am on a three-day trip through the Satpuras in search of the dance circle.
Erosion coaxes a sheer rock-face to open its mouth and a rock shelter is born. Some are barely slivers, others are respectable caves, and still others are yawning cathedrals. There are hundreds of rock shelters scattered throughout the Satpuras. The most habitable are often not the ones full of art. I can see why an artist would want a workspace separate from home. On the first day of our search for these rock studios, we enter the Satpura Tiger Reserve through the Panarpani Gate at dawn and drive towards Neemghan. Our gypsy raises a sinuous trail of dust through dry grassland with scattered trees. Contours of pancake stacks and chimneys rise in the near distance. This being mid-March we’ve caught these deciduous forests at a bad time: old foliage down, new foliage not up yet. It has not rained in months; the entire region is parched, and most streams are dry. The hour is right for animal movement, but none are to be found. They are surely off in search of water.
The Barkachari rock shelter is a mother lode. Its first gift to me is a strikingly large tiger done in red over grey-brown basalt. In each of these studios, the artists have dug out smooth cup-like depressions on the floor for mixing paint. A cluster of paint-cups near the tiger bears witness to its ambitious scale. Were there many working on it? Nearby a dancer with a headdress and flowing kilts, strikes a pose. There are plenty of hunting scenes. A woman sits cross-legged and holds her baby up in the air. Was she nearby, or was the artist missing her? I am filled with an intense longing to see this studio when it was full. I want to peer over the shoulder of the one who, with impeccable taste in color palette, did a stylish line drawing of a bison in red on yellow-ochre sandstone and filled it with shallow white. I want to ask the artist who drew an impaled buffalo with raised front legs that lifts its tail and urinates in fright: was he struck by the fear in the animal? Was he in the hunting party?
My mind is abuzz with thoughts on absent artists as we drive deeper into the forest past Neemghan. Descending towards the Nagadwari river the tree cover gets dense and atop a majority of the trees are organised leafy nests. I soon start seeing the inhabitants in action. A giant squirrel can leap a good 20 feet. It is the size of a large domestic cat, with rust-coloured fur on its back, beige on its face and an impressive bushy tail. When threatened, it drapes itself on a branch and hangs its head, playing dead. Taking a tight corner down the cliff-side we come to an abrupt halt: on the middle of the track is a barasingha antler, nearly four feet long. The Nagadwari is a thin trickle, but the evidence of its monsoon girth is all around us. It is not just the present rivers of the Satpuras that are impressive in their sculpting prowess. The cliffs and canyons all around us were shaped by rivers that have long since changed course. These forests are full of absent artists.
Closer to Pachmarhi, I climb to a rock shelter within Mount Rosa, a free standing tower of brick-red sandstone. The shelter is a smooth bite out of the cliff side. Satiny black basalt runs down the cliff, its weight evident in the oily smoothness. In many places the rock face shows elaborately contoured fins, as if thin bubbles of lava had broken off leaving textured ridges on the rock surface. This shelter feels eminently habitable, and indeed has little art. I notice a domestic scene: a hut with utensils, domestic animals, and a woman next to it with her hands on her hips. The igneous porch of this shelter offers views unobstructed for miles. As the sun goes down over the Satpuras, I sit on this high porch as others doubtless have before me, and listen to the distant rattle of giant squirrels echoing around the canyons.
By daybreak I am en route to Churna, deep within the Bori-Satpura national forest. Rorighat, Bori, Dhain, Kankri, Churna, are all forest revenue villages housing mainly Korku and Gond tribes. The route from Pachmarhi drops behind Dhupgarh and till Bori goes up and down cliff sides on rocky tracks overlooking deep, forested gorges. Beyond Bori, the landscape flattens out. At Dhain, I find the detritus of an evicted village. Where did they take them? Oh, somewhere near Pipariya, better access to roads and markets. Bijli, sarak, pani. But the animals continue to stay away.
As we pull into Churna, school is in full flow. Lilting sounds of children reciting tables. But the lilt is all there is; the back story is harsh prose. This girls’ school serves 18 villages. The Adivasi Kanya Chatravaas houses 110 girls, another 87 day-scholars troop in everyday covering enormous distances on foot. The three teachers though, often don’t make it. One of them, Vilas Makamb, 20, is a Churna native and is often the one teaching 197 girls from class II through VIII. In his spare time, he is a class XII student at Itarsi, and has been for some years.
On a late afternoon drive through the forests around Churna, I see a few sambar, and nilgai. But the predators only make their presence felt in the stories that swirl around me. As night falls, we drive to Kankri to score some country chicken. Kankri, a dusty hamlet in daylight, looks magical at night. In each house, the family has gathered around a fire-pit in the center of an adobe platform with a raised border. This is the lounge, separate from the main house. They snack on roasted channa and shoot the breeze.
On the way back to Churna, we almost run over a herd of wild boar. In the glare of headlights I count nearly 25, including the tiniest piglets. At the bungalow, chowkidar Hiralal has lit lanterns. He whips out stunning chicken curry in an hour, over a wood fire. We eat under the stars as the night air is rent with the lonesome call of a sambar. Later, I drift off to sleep marvelling at the softness of the mulmul cover on the razai.
The giant massif looming above Churna houses Churna Ghundi, the largest and most complex rock art shelter I visit on this trip. Facing the rising sun, it is a surprisingly exposed and well-lit studio. The fetching yellow-ochre walls offer a palimpsest of styles: stick figures are juxtaposed with fleshy thighs and elaborate coiffure; bows and arrows commingle with sworded cavalry on caparisoned horses. Leopards with muscular hind legs are done with great skill. The battle scenes replete with body armour, helmets, and caparisoned elephants are clearly from the historic era. Much of the cave art around Pachmarhi is late stage: 500-800 AD. But some are supposedly 10,000 years old. Dating cave art can be tricky. Leaving that to the experts, all I want to do is enter this world. I want to quit resisting gravity on the frictionless rock face and roll down the cliff side in a tight ball like the pangolin I see etched in front of me.
The villagers around Churna don’t do cave paintings; no one has in living memory. When asked they say that the existing art is the work of child fairies. As I stand at the well-worked rock face in the early light, I am filled with an urge to make my mark. The paint is all around me: in the white resin within the leaves, in the rich ochre at my feet. The image that floats up is of two Korku boys running with a rusty hoop. This urge is my true inheritance from the absent artists. I walk away.
The information
Getting there
By train: Pipariya, the closest railhead is a 1hr drive.
By air: The closest airport, Bhopal is 3hrs from Pachmarhi.
Where to stay
The WelcomHeritage Golf View (Rs 5,000-7,000; 07578-252115, www.welcomheritagehotels.com), overlooking the golf course is the most luxurious property in Pachmarhi. MPTDC also runs a couple of hotels in Pachmarhi, of which the Rock End Manor (Rs 3,990; 252079, [email protected]), a tastefully restored Raj bungalow, is the best. The Satpura Retreat (Rs 2,490-2,990; 252097, [email protected]), also run by MPTDC, has the feel of a forest rest house.
What to do in Pachmarhi
Pachmarhi has several waterfalls that can be quite dramatic during the wet months. Big Falls, Bee Falls, Silver Falls and Duchess Falls are the best known. The gorge at Reechgarh is a must-see: its towering concave walls meet up to an opening the shape of a human eye.
Around Pachmarhi
The Bori-Satpura Tiger Reserve extends across 1,486 sq. km. The forest cover is mainly mixed deciduous. Giant squirrels are extremely common, and sloth bears and panthers can occasionally be seen. The reserve has a number of rock shelters with cave paintings. The Barkachari rock shelter is 10km from the Panarpani gate, while the Sher Gumpha is about 30km. The Churna Ghudi rock shelter is in Churna, about 60km west of Pachmarhi.
Contacts
Kishen Lal (0-9424437004) is a good guide to the cave paintings of the area. Sayeed Bhai (0-9424435772) runs a very good taxi service.
MP Pachmarhi
Rimli Sengupta
MP Satpura
