River Nila, Photo by Jessica Lee
Jessica Lee, winner of the 2009 Travel Writing Scholarship has recently returned from her trip to the Nila River in Kerala,India. Jess enjoyed a tour with The Blue Yonder and completed her assignment writing and researching for the Footprint India Handbook where she will be published in the next edition!
Read about Jessica's experience on the River Nila in her insightful story below.
And read her journal HERE.
ALONG THE RIVER NILA
by Jessica Lee
There is no sound except for the slow creak of the boat’s timber as the captain uses his punt to cast us adrift into the current. On the shore a young boy riding his bicycle waves at me. I wave back and out of the corner of my eye, spot a glittering blue-streak clinging onto a swaying reed. It turns out to be a tiny kingfisher which darts hurriedly away when our boat gets too near.
I’m onboard a thoni (a traditional Keralite boat), floating serenely down the Nila River. Fed by the highland springs of the Western Ghats, the Nila meanders for 209 kilometres through the centre of the state and is Kerala’s longest river. Lush vegetation tumbles down to the water’s edge and palm trees sway in the breeze above. This fecundity of nature has historically also nourished a fertile culture. The classical dance Kathakali and the martial art Kalaripayattu can both trace their roots to here and this region is revered by many as the birthplace of Keralite culture.
With all this bountiful greenery it’s not hard to sit back and believe I’m amid a tropical Eden but it seems there is trouble in paradise after all. Arun Prabhakaran is a guide for The Blue Yonder; a tour operator focused on preserving the Nila. “In old days the river was considered a divine being,” he tells me, “but now it is just seen as something to exploit.” Deforestation, pollution and the converting of paddy fields to grow cash crops have all played their part in the degeneration of the Nila, but its biggest threat these days comes from illegal sand-mining of the river’s banks. Kerala’s building boom is leading to the waterway being plundered.
“The average daily wage in Kerala is 250 rupees. Sand miners earn 1500 to 2000 rupees a day,” Arun says. It’s not difficult then to understand why the local people who once worshipped their river have decided instead to pillage it. The Blue Yonder actively promote the culture and legends of the river to bring these issues to light. Their tours also allow travellers to actively engage with the people who live along the Nila’s banks. The captain now punting me down the waterway used to be involved with illegal mining and the thoni I am sitting in was once used to cart sand away from the banks. Now the thoni carts a cargo of curious visitors wanting to appreciate the beauty of the river instead. This may only be a tiny step in providing an alternate income for a few captains but it is a huge step in changing the mindset of the people. Seeing tourists enjoy their time here, Arun says, “gives them pride back in their river.”
Silver slivers of flying fish break the surface, arcing gracefully into the air, before diving downwards to disappear into the blue below. I sit back on my wooden seat and breath in the Nila as a gloriously fat orange sun sinks below the palm fronds. The air is tinged with the smoulder of kitchen fires. Plumes of smoke rise from the chimneys of shacks knitted together from palm leaves and timber. Strung out beside them, colourful lines of laundry flap in the breeze. Except for the lapping of water against timber, I am surrounded by a rare and beautiful silence.
But then suddenly an unholy bellowing begins. A diabolic thumping drumbeat brutally pierces the quiet and begins to rise in volume. Shrill police sirens screech maniacally over the top of the beat. A rudely awakened flock of egrets fly out of a nearby tree in disgust, swooping over the bank in search of quieter perches. The captain grins sheepishly and begins to rummage through some junk at the back of the boat. He grabs his pulsating mobile phone and answers it. I laugh. Modern life has managed to interrupt my quiet contemplation of the river. Luckily, because of ongoing initiatives of companies like The Blue Yonder, terrible mobile phone ring-tones will continue to be the Nila’s only modern interruption.
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