By Anita Varghese, Phd | Director – Keystone Foundation
In December, when a group of youth from the Cholanaiken tribe wanted to visit the Keystone office in Kotagiri, many of us became quite excited, as we only managed to bring them this far once or twice in the past. Not once had any of the women visit us. Now, it was a group of young men and women who were keen to visit us.
Led by Vinod who is a Cholanaiken, soon to complete his PhD in Economics, the youth were equally excited. A journey from Panapuzha or even further would mean at least a day of walking to the trading center, or ‘colony’, at Maancheeri, getting a jeep to drop them off at the resource center at Cherupuzha in Karulai, and then making the 4 hour drive to Kotagiri. Changing weather, altitude, and winding roads were not the kind of experiences their elders wanted to have. Looking back, we feel so grateful to all those who visited us at Kotagiri in 2004 – Panapuzha Ravi, Manala Chellan, Panapuzha Beeran, Karimpuzha Mathan among others. The young were enthusiastic and eager to know more, but they were also sure that they wanted to get back to Nilambur before nightfall.
There have been some serious issues with regard to the health of young girls and early marriages in the Cholanaicken community. Our Kerala team was distressed about this, so we decided to invite the people to our office in Nilambur to understand what was going on. It has always been like this with a meeting with the Cholakkar: we send the jeep to the forest trading post at Maancheeri, and till it returns, we will never know who is coming or who is not. Therefore, when around 50 people gathered that day, all of us were moved to see mothers, daughters, sons, babies, and elders coming to sit down and talk about their lives in 2025. It was deeply humbling for us that after so many years, the Cholakkar felt that something was worthwhile in coming to a meeting at the Keystone office.
A lot has changed for them over the years and they recounted much of that. The trade in forest produce has reduced for a number of reasons (disbanding of the co-operative society, takeover by VSS, now abandoned by all, etc), which means they have less secure incomes or assurances of rations that would be delivered to them every Wednesday. They were happy that their youth now owned jeeps and also knew how to drive. This meant they needed to only pay for the fuel and could pay the boys when they had money. Some of the youth have gained permanent employment with the Forest Department.
The hardship and starvation when the monsoon arrives and the rivers are in spate seemed almost the same as in the 90s. Most of the people continue to live in rock overhangs and caves, which means they have no space to store rations. A family arrived at Vinod’s doorstep in July, somehow managing to walk the 20 kms and more from the forest. They collapsed, as they had not eaten in days and survived on drinking water from the river. Rice and rations were organised for them as immediate relief. Some lives were also lost to encounters with elephants in the forest. The elephants in recent times have become more angry and violent; they are not like the elephants of the old days, remarked the elders.
The New Amarambalam Reserve Forest, where the Cholakkar live, has now become the Karimpuzha Wildlife Sanctuary. When we asked what had changed for them, most of them answered that not much has changed–they continue to move as they used to. Though a few did say that they don’t think this way of life can continue, and that there will be restrictions on what they can do in the forest. It has not even come to their thoughts that they could be asked to resettle, and we didn’t talk about it. Maybe this once it will be different, and conservation will not have to be at the cost of displacement.
There were so many young girls at the meeting, most of them in school and in various stages of education and wanting to continue. Many have lost parents or relatives to conflict with elephants. Mani’s children were there, grim reminders of that reality. For the girl children, life outside the forest in the schools and tribal residential schools seemed to be more appealing. One of them wanted to complete her computer education, while one was good at saving money and her brother teasingly called her ‘the bank’. At which time, one of the aunts responded by saying they all have bank accounts but no money!
We also discussed issues around the safety of young girls and early motherhood. At this point, the conversation completely switched to the Cholanaiken language. It was a subtle message to us: ‘stay out of these matters we will take care of it’. We all watched as the discussion entered this sensitive part; the youth and mothers had much to say. There was even talk of forming a group that could be contacted in cases of wrongdoing and assault. There was deep reflection about the influence of outsiders who have created an image of what the community should be, and how this has also led to negative incidents. All agreed that they would act as better communicators and be willing to speak up for the victims and do what is possible to ensure such things don’t happen again.
We ended that day with a meal of rice, sambhar, cabbage thoran, pappadam, pickle, chicken curry and fish. We took a long time to say goodbye, we had photos to take, smaller groups of socialising and nobody was in a hurry, it was close to being the last day of the year. The children and young who lived in the schools and town area were all happy to take the jeep back to the forest, to spend their last holidays with their parents and grandparents before schools opened on January 5th. A time to play in the river, to catch fish, to roam the forest-a perfect New Year camping party! The jeeps were driven by Nandu and Chathan – the young proud owners of the vehicles. I also remember the jeep drivers from Karulai town who drove regularly for the Cholakkar in the past–nobody did these rides for the money!
Hope, Aache, Nambinae, Nobbu, Nambikku
Earlier in the year, Keystone was invited to contribute to the Indigenous Peoples museum, called Hope, at the Food and Agriculture Organisations headquarters in Rome. As part of the museum exhibits, we were invited to send the local word for ‘hope’. I remember sending out many requests to my Adivasi colleagues and friends in the Nilgiri Biosphere Reserve. With great effort we managed to collect the following: in Badaga language-Nambinae; in Cholanaicken and Kattunayakan – Aache; in Toda – Nobbu and in Kota – Nambikku. We also realized most of them were closer in meaning to wish, desire, faith- maybe there was no word for hope!
Returning from my meetings with the Cholakkar, I carried a feeling that they have lost none of the resilience that stems from a kind of quiet hope. Having been witness to their lives from the early 90’s, I felt that their sense of home, which is the forest, the river, and the mountains, has not changed. The young, with their very different lifestyles and aspirations were still heading to the forest, which is their only home. They had no sense of loss as I have seen with many other Adivasi people. There is distress, and suffering, and hardship, but there is no alienation; the Cholakkar always have their forest to return to.
The youth are hopeful for the future in which they will train as filmmakers, computer analysts, scholars, botanists, jeep drivers and whatever else they wish to be. And they will be filmmakers, computer analysts, scholars, botanists, jeep drivers of their forests-their homes. For Adivasi people and Indigenous Peoples all over the world, there is hope when they do not have to run away from who they are or where they belong. It is even better for them if they have a chance to chase away some people who will steal from the forest and do not respect the Cholanaiken way of life.
A young Cholanaiken filmmaker, Vinayan, guards the endemic and endangered fishes of his ancestral domain in Meenmutti. He realized that the fish had lost their habitats during the floods, and therefore took it upon himself to make a protected pool to provide a safe breeding ground. One day, as he came back with his uncle from gathering produce in the forests, he saw that outsiders had entered the area and were fishing with chemicals. He remembers being enraged and grabbing anything that came to his hand, it was a long stick. He yelled and chased these marauders out of the forest and threatened them, if they should dare to come back.
Encouraged by this story, Satheesh, an aspiring botanist talked about yet another chasing away. Two well-meaning teachers came to teach literacy at the ‘colony’. In preparation for the class, they wanted to make the students look ‘presentable’ for class. They took a pair of scissors and clipped away at the hair of two young boys. Soon the teachers got the same treatment as the people who had come to steal the fish! There is hope when Adivasi or Indigenous peoples have a home, the full rights to defend that home and way of life.
