TUMKUR - THE LAND OF HILLS! disappearing hills?

Subhash
DISCOVER TUMKUR - THE LAND OF HILLS!
I have travelled the length and breadth of TUMKUR. I live in rural Tumkur which is surrounded by hills. If you have wanderlust then this is the place to come to.

Of course, occassionally you will listen to dynamite sounds in the morning! Ignore them.The hills are vanishing one by one.

The trekkers should concentrate on the hillocks that are not being dynamited - there are very few of them - but then come and see what is happening. One day, even Mount Everest will be blasted for its stone. That is what we have come to.

I hear young friends posting beautiful photos of various trekking destinations. But what has happened in our own backyard - places like TUMKUR. Sand mining, relentless dynamiting - scarred GODS - waiting for their butchery.

PLEASE SAVE TUMKUR'S HILLS! TREKKERS HAVE A DUTY TO SAVE WHAT THEY LOVE.
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THE BURNING FIRES AT SUMPOORNA!

Large spaces have been burnt in SUMPOORNA. The persons who were supposed to do the maintenance haven't done their job and now we are left with wounded/dead plants that we had planted with so great love.

SUMPOORNA IS BURNING - but we shall restore it to its glory. The thousands of children that have enjoyed its `nurturing' shall now pay back to their `alma mater' the guru dakshina.

EVERY TRAGEDY has a seed of `future prosperity' in its' womb.

BUSHFIRES OF AUSTRAILIA & FIRE AT SUMPOORNA

Another big fire at SUMPOORNA. Fire destroys - it is painful to see so many living things that would have perished. Fire also purifies.

FIRE SETTERS are MASS MURDERERS - a tearful leader of Australia says. Death of human beings and the loss of flora and fauna that has occurred will take years to heal.

BUT LIFE CLINGS ON! The place where we had a blazing fire last year is lush with greenery and thousands of small trees have sprouted even in cracks of stones. DESTRUCTION IS THE PRICE WE MUST PAY TO HAVE LIFE.

THE BYGONE `ERA' OF SILENCE!

The looting is going on mercilessly - all in the name of `hotte padu' [filling my belly]. It begins early in the morning - those booming sounds of dynamite - they are getting closer and closer all the time. Tearing apart the sheet rock layers that last saw violence some billion years ago - they are ripping apart a way of life that we are so used to.

Everything is on the move - people from villages gather with bandlis and guddalis - the tractors and the lorries that sneak into small rivulets - the LOADING of chappadis, fencing stones, foundation stones and SAND begins. DESTRUCTION FOREVER! But who cares - it is `hotte padu' for the villagers - it is `only source of income' for the contractors - it is bonanza for the developers of sites and buildings - it is `free lunch' for the petty politicians and other officials involved.

We live in a violent world of noise - who cares for THE BYGONE `ERA' OF SILENCE. I DO - DO YOU?

THE KADU DEVARU AT SUMPOORNA

A few months back, a ravaging fire had burnt out a large part of Kadu Devaru at Sumpoorna - leaving us heart broken. But the recent bountiful rains have helped NATURE bounce back in all its glory. The thick lush grasses - the canopy is slowly covering all the all pervasive scenery. Its a feast in store for the tired basketball players. They just refuse to climb down the hillock.

He who taketh also giveth. The Kadu devaru has the capacity to meet the threat of `tree cutters' as also the `fire setters'. Never be put off by the tragedies - they are only the tip of `better things' to come. Frozen in my mind the image of Kadu Devaru sustains us, even though the dynamite sounds have started coming nearer and nearer.

THE DYNAMITED HILLS

From my childhood I always believed that god put hills and mountains on flat land so that children could climb them and look at a larger world. As I climbed hills over the last four and half decades I always carried the thought that I am climbing up GOD'S BELLY. There has always been a sense of protection about the hills that I have never felt on flat land. The thousands upon thousands of children who trekked and climbed with me have left memories that words cannot describe.



Now these very hills are being dynamited and piece by piece being removed to big cities for construction work. The last sancturies of `wild life' [whatever that is left] will vanish forever and it would be the final nail in the coffin of mankind. The scarred and bruised hills will no longer host vegetation or small trees - the water run-off will bring with it a layer of stone dust that would destroy agricultural lands forever. The sand lifting from the rivulets has already created barren stony deserts.



I am a silent spectator of this brutal murder of future generations' livelihood. Sometimes back Supreme Court of India had passed strictures against some soft drinks' companies for painting their advertisements on hillocks adjoining the highways. NOW THESE HILLOCKS ARE BEING TOTALLY REMOVED - and no one seems to be bothered.

Its' 6am and as I sit writing a deep `booming sound' comes from the very bowels of mother earth - my heart pounds and a `silent tear' trickles down my cheeks. Did I come to Betta Shambhunahalli for this?

JOURNIES OF COMFORT

I have travelled so many times from Bangalore to Tumkur and even today continue to do it. As I travel in my Scorpio today I cannot but help remembering when I used to travel on my Bajaj scooter. The giant Jamun {Nerele} trees on either side of the road worked as my ACs during my jouney. And so many dark purple patches throughout the road when the fruits fell off on the road. Monkies and small children [and sometimes me] always had belly-full of these fruits. These were the journies of comfort.

AND THEN I STARTED SEEING a strange sight! People carrying plastic pots to fetch water - and this scene is etched in my memory like a stab through the heart. The Nerele trees started disappearing and the number of people carrying these water pots kept increasing. They progressively used cycles, vans and then inevitably water tankers. Now these sights are replaced by fly-overs [villages have simply disappeared under them] and we have an international quality road linking Bangalore to Tumkur. Out of sight - out of mind. The journies are silent - monkies have disappeared - vast stretches of trees have simply been murdered.

I AND YOU WILL NEVER BE FORGIVEN BY THE COMING GENERATIONS!