A lyrical account from two caretakers of Pitchandikulam Forest, a center of restoration ecology, education, and community outreach.
Remembering the future
Published November 17th, 2023
There is thunder far off to the north. We hope the rain falls on our recent lake side plantings. Dramatic lightning illuminates the young forest at Nadukuppam.
Here we aspire to serve as stewards, members of a land community growing everyday in complexity. All our efforts seem to be initiatives of transition, of careful transformation as the ground and climate shift dramatically all around us. At any moment, listen carefully and one can hear the ice cracking.
We recognise that we are refugees from the source, remembering, remembering a future garden where we can play again.
The challenge seems to be to find goodwill and steadfastness amongst the desperate blusterings of humankind and the rainbow promises of the prophets. If goodwill is there anything is possible, particularly on Auroville.
Let’s try to recall that better version of ourselves. This gently turning Blue Green jewel is so beautiful in itself, an oasis in vast space that needs to be loved more by us the stewards, and in doing so, then we as a species can perhaps finally find our place our purpose in the great play of evolution.
Gratefully we sing to clouds as we collect seeds from old temple forests, and whisper to damsel flies as we restore our lakes, wondering continually at the compassion that mother earth shows towards us.
With quiet determination we try to nurture spaces where the children can dream up an eventual more peaceful, cleaner and happier world for all beings.
Today far away from the magic mystery theatre of southern India, I watched a humpback whale playing in wild clean water and remembered back to the beginning.
By Joss Brooks
Published November 17, 2023 in Pitchandikulam Forest blog
The Heaviest Rain
Published Nov 19, 2023
The trepidatious roots engrave the sorrow earth, nutrition quelled, trees roam from cloud to cloud. A new season comes, the wisps of the sky susurrate, from the tallest peak of our flatland the leaves whisper back to the wind, they know now. Electrically charged, the sky flounders, a curl of dark purple clouds gallop for our trees, thunderous heartbeats ebb in lightning pulses.
The skywards amalgamation of energized water hits the coast, torrential rivers flow from the thunder-struck skies. Our little forest gulps the downpour of wrath and love. We run to shelter huddling together not so much for warmth as each other’s hope. Our forest roads run thick with red rivers. Days pass and we laugh at our Venice canals, we roll up our trousers and trudge waist deep from our homes to the kitchen, splashing earth and mud, then the thunder rolls again. The rain plummets and we bask in the clear water, the everlight streaks through drops, shattered light blooms, but the light spray is shadowed by another deluge, the thick rain makes you feel like you can breathe underwater.
The kitchen is warm, the firewood stove dries our clothes while a broth cooks the sound of rain with a pounding that pleads to be let in and enjoy our company. Some months pass and the rain comes less frequently. It’s been a while since the forest showed such green.
By Surya Lokuta
Published November 19, 2023 in Pitchandikulam Forest blog