The open auto was perhaps the best ride we could hook up from Agumbe town to the Research Station. We stood at the back, watching the scenic hills standing majestically in all directions, the green meadows in front acting as a gateway. Just a few days back our destination was around 2,700 km away — now it was reduced to 1.5. Both of us didn’t wish to remember the not-so-enticing 30-hour train ride to the nearest station, the mite-infested bed at our hotel in Mangalore, followed by an early morning 5-hour bus ride. For now we were completely immersed in the new surroundings.
Gradually the open meadows disappeared and the trail took a new turn and entered dense forest. We stooped down just at the right time and were saved from a whacking by a few sturdy tree branches. The light intensity decreased, perhaps lost in the thick canopy above. The path grew bumpy and we held on more tightly to the auto railing.
“Isn’t it great?” said one me. “Are you mad?” said another me. “This is extraordinary!” My friend’s silence was expected — he was perhaps feeling the same thing.
The auto came to an abrupt stop and we jumped from the vehicle and let our feet taste the land. I took a deep breath and the pleasant oxygenated air filled my lungs and gave them new life, clearing away the mess caused by the city. A short walk and we could see the cottage we had seen so many times in pictures. We were greeted by a short, lively lady named Chethana who had communicated with us for so long by email. “Welcome to ARRS,” she said, and we replied thanks in unison.
Moving forward a few steps I saw an old-looking man with a short white beard and white hair, perhaps in his 60s. “Of course,” I said — that’s Romulus Whitaker. We shook hands with everyone at the base and introduced ourselves.
The following 30 minutes were spent unwinding and exploring the dorm. Then we set off on a walk around the base, which was spread over 10 acres. I remembered the first email I had written to ARRS, expressing my interest in being a volunteer. Their reply mentioned a place inside a dense forest, a job involving walking in rough terrain filled with leeches and ticks, with temperatures hovering around 30°C, humidity reaching 90%, and Naxalite activity in the surrounding hills. It might have hesitated anyone else, but for me this was exactly the experience I was looking for.
We would wake up at around 7-8 in the morning, with my friend taking a few extra minutes. He was told that his bed was jinxed and past volunteers had awkwardly woken in the night only to find themselves on the ground. This was sometimes followed by an early morning birding session where we strolled around the whole area.
For the first few days, breakfast was followed by maintenance work that continued till lunch. The work included extending the dining area — which meant moving huge amounts of soil from one place to another — making a new shed for non-biodegradable waste, for which we had to carry heavy iron gates around 100 metres to the site, digging 2-feet-deep pits and filling them with three different soils brought from three different places, and placing saplings in them. Not to forget, fencing the boundaries of the base, which always proved a futile effort since the cows somehow always managed to sneak through. All of this was done manually. It was laborious work, but it was fun.
The conversation at the lunch table was about snakes and crocodiles. The way they all talked reminded me of my friend and I on short city walks, where we would talk only about dogs as they trotted along — pointing to this one, then to another which we thought was very intelligent, as if you knew them so well, like they were a part of your family. It was exactly like that, except here the subjects were King Cobras and monitor lizards.
The night was perhaps the strangest time of all. During the initial days I would just sit outside and try to take in the events of the day, the new surroundings, and what would be in store the next morning. Most of the forest rested during the night and it felt like the whole energy had been sapped out of the environment. I think it is in these times — when you are at peace, with no television or much internet to keep you up — that the innermost questions about existence and self come out and offer a good chance of introspection. We slept early.
ARRS is famous for its King Cobra Telemetry Project. The aim is to understand the habitat the King Cobra lives in, its movements, its life — gathering everything that could help channel conservation efforts for this elusive creature. On the second day we got a chance to see two King Cobras being released into the wild. It was really something.
The following days brought more tasks — data entry, cataloguing pictures, shifting mud. The most enjoyable by far was placing camera traps in the forest and then checking them the next day to see if anything had passed through. By this time we were going into the forest regularly, both during the day and at night. Each time felt like entering a different world — one that was far older, and far less concerned with us, than anything we had left behind.