Resort in the hills

S. THEODORE BASKARAN on the magic of Courtallam.

AS a student in Palayamkottai in the 1950s, a trip to Courtallam was always a much awaited break for me. From the bus stand, we would rush to Tiger hall, our usual stop, drop our bags there and head for the hills. Courtallam was then a somnolent village, with very few visitors to the falls and the ranges retained much of their pristine nature. A trek along Puckle's path, named after the district collector who laid it in the 1860s, to Thenaruvi and beyond, to a natural cavern, known as Paradesi pudai, was the high point of the visit.

Courtallam (where the Chithar river (the Small River), swelling in the Pothikai ranges after the renewal of South-West monsoon; comes down in a series of cascades and flows into the plains with a massive falls) has been known for its therapeutic air. The rain-bearing clouds rushing through the Aryankavu pass, condense into the fine drizzle that is so characteristic of Courtallam. In the Siva temple near the falls, the deity is ceremoniously anointed with kashayam (herbal decoction), an antidote to constant exposure to drizzle.

When this area passed into the hands of the East India Company after the Poligar wars, Courtallam became a favourite of the British officers; The first Collector of Tirunelveli, the legendary Lushington, set up his residence here. Subsequent collectors chose to hold their cutcherry here. Courtallam was recognised as a sanatorium and attracted British officers from all over the presidency. Artist William Daniells came here to sketch the Five falls. In 1811 the government appointed a committee to go into the reasons for its reputation of being so therapeutic. In its report, the committee extolled the virtues of the climate, the drizzle and commented on the efficacy of a bath in the falls as "the happy means of rapidly restoring many to health and comfort, who previous to their visit to Courtallam, appeared to be hastening to their graves". However, after Kodaikanal, Ootacamund (Udhagamandalam) and Yercaud developed into hill stations, Courtallam lost much of its importance as a resort.

Casamajor, the Company's resident in Courtallam, introduced exotic varieties of cash crops, such as nutmegs, cloves and spices brought in from Moluccas. By 1812, the harvest of fruits and other products from Courtallam found their way to European markets. But competition from Java was fierce and the trade did not catch on. Mangosteen fruits may have been introduced at this time and remain a favoured speciality of Courtallam.

If the Western Ghats is a bio-diversity hotspot, the Courtallam area is truly representative of that character of the ranges. The hills are home to a bewildering variety of plants, birds and mammals. In 1835, botanist Dr. Wightcollected 1,200 species of flowering trees in an area of just 20 square miles. He calculated that at least, 2,000 species are found. The variety of ferns in particular was very high.

A rare orchid, Paphiopedilum drury, christened after district collector Drury, who was in Tirunelveli in 1928 (The same man who dug the canal from Kaveri, at Erode), is endemic to these ranges. Known among orchid fanciers as "the Lost Orchid", it was once believed to have disappeared from these hills. O.T. Ravindran, orchidologist assures me that these orchids are still there in their home range; This terrestrial orchid - called "Lady's slipper orchid" after the shoe-shaped, yellow and brown coloured flower - lies buried most of the year and surfaces during the flowering season, like a tiny coconut sapling. The nearest I got to this fabled orchid was when I set my eyes on a pressed specimen in the herbarium of the Botanical Survey of India, Coimbatore. There was an orchid fancier in Bangalore who had two plants but would not trust me enough to let me photograph them. What is special about this plant is that it is one of the relict species; the is .... species found in the Himalayas and in the Western Ghats, but no where in between. Among mammals you have the tahr, and among birds the Fairy Bluebird as relict species.

Wildlife was once plentiful in these ranges. I read an account of 1932 of a hunting party of Indians, that came across quite a few panthers and but did not bother to shoot any. They were saving their ammunition for tigers which, were plentiful too. Sambar, the big cat's staple prey, was also in abundance. M. Krishnan has recorded observing a troop of Lion-tailed Macaque foraging on the rock face of the Main falls, while many people bathed below. He narrates this incident to prove the point that these highly endangered primates were not always so shy of humans as they are now. Sadly, there is no trace of them anywhere in these ranges. There are some troops in the Kalakad sanctuary. The higher ranges of Courtallam were once the home of the rare mountain goat, the Nilgiri tahr. As else they have been wiped out. There may still be a small population of tahr at the Agasthya hills.

Birds still abound. If you are a keen birder, the book you should carry with you would be Salim Ali's The Birds of Kerala, now in a new enlarged edition. As you walk up the hill, along the crystalline brooks, you are sure to hear the magical call of the Malabar Whistling thrush; if you are lucky you will get a glimpse of it taking off from the rocks and disappear into the vegetation. You could still spot Ruby-throated bulbul, and the Fairy Bluebird. But the Great Indian Hornbill, once a common sight here, is gone.

Last time when I was in Courtallam, a few years ago, the experience was very different from my younger days. I got on to Puckle's path quickly, leaving the concourse behind. I walked up to Thenaruvi, so named after the enormous beehives that hang from the rocks on either side of the falls, and sat on a boulder facing the falls. The thought that the bees, the wagtail that hopped from rock to rock after an unseen insect, the lone serpent eagle that soared above, the forest, the brook and the falls itself, far more majestic and awesome that all others in this range, and I were all part of one immense harmony, was a humbling one. I crossed the stream, stepping on rocks that jutted out, and reached Paradesi cave. I gazed at the mysterious inscription as yet undeciphered, on the wall of the cave, chiselled millennia ago, by some Buddhist or Jain monk, who sat there contemplating the meaning of life.

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