| Kattupalli Island: Leave only your footprints behind, says PRINCE FREDERICK |
IT DOESN'T get more dangerous than this. Seven men on a Massey Ferguson that has seen better days and lurches violently as it negotiates the sandy track. I am on a journey from one end of Kattupalli Island to the other and hanging on precariously while I jot down notes for this RLT.
This island houses 12 sleepy hamlets, encircled by the sea on the east, the Ennore Creek on the south, the Pulicat lake and the Buckingham Canal on the north-west. Yet, there are vast stretches that are totally deserted. The villages seem somewhat empty too. Every day, there is an exodus of sorts, with the search for employment driving the island's inhabitants to the mainland.
The avian residents
However, other "residents" are impossible to miss. A swallow shrike streaks through the air, spiking any insect that comes its way. Elsewhere, two southern tree pies call out to each other and midway up a palm tree, a golden-backed woodpecker bores a hole. A crow pheasant hovers over a tree indecisively before choosing to fly away and a pelican glides majestically across the backwaters. Between these avian sightings, other creatures make an appearance, adding variety to the experience. An enormous but shy crab scuttles across the road. Seemingly lost in thought, a jackal stands by the roadside looking steadily and intently at something. Before I can whip out my camera and capture the jackal's gaze, the animal disappears into a thicket with a loping stride.
The island was said to have many more trees than it does now. Today, there are long bald stretches between the eucalyptus, casuarinas and cashew groves.
At Karingalli village, Kuppuswami, whose frail frame has been bent by age and malnutrition, officiates over the priestly duties at Chintamani Ishwarar Koil. The ancient temple received a facelift a few years ago; nearby there is a pile of rubble and forgotten stone, the leftovers of an old Zamindar house. A banyan tree that has woven its roots through a battered brick wall affords a good photo opportunity.
From sand I move to water. With the litter-free silver sands set off by the blue glitter of the sea, the Kattupalli beach presents an arresting picture. The beach is unspoilt because few tourists flock to it and, mercifully, leave only their footprints behind.
Puffing and coughing, the old tractor finally transports me to the last item on the agenda — kayaking on the lagoon. After brushing up on my rowing skills, I fit myself into a kayak. The inflatable boat belongs to a friend who runs an adventure company and takes tourists to the island on request. For another 30 minutes, wind and water (two Ws, if you like) are the only company.
As I return to land, the midday sun shoots arrows of light through the water, revealing a strange sight. That of dead fish floating on the water. It is a sober reminder that this southernmost island in the Pulicat lagoon — once renowned for its bird life and beauty — is plagued by a host of environmental problems.
Getting there
Catch a train to Pudunagar and find private vans which wait to whisk you away to this island, 40 km from Chennai. The route by road is way too long, for there are no buses from Chennai. You have to reach Ponneri to catch a bus to Kattupalli.
Stop Press
As we were going to press, we received this piece of information. Prakruthi is organising a two-day camp (September 25-26) at Kattupalli for children aged between 12 and 17. For details, call 31092698, 52151147.
Courtesy: http://www.hindu.com/mp/2004/09/18/stories/2004091801070100.htm
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