Fighting for their forests
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COMMENTS 
Adivasis in the Mudumalai forests of the Nilgiris in Tamil Nadu fight to retain control of the forests that have always been their home and source of livelihood.
Chembakolly village is an idyllic little adivasi settlement in the heart of the Mudumalai forest in the Nilgiri mountains of Tamil Nadu, South India.
Two years ago, a posse of forest officials descended on it and unleashed a reign of terror on the adivasi inhabitants. They ripped up precious pepper vines, cut down the host dadop trees and hacked wildly at everything around. Soman, a young Kattunaicken adivasi was devastated. "I wept at his (the forest ranger's) feet and pleaded, 'Please don't cut my pepper. These plants are my children. I have looked after them for years. They will yield in two years and feed my family'." The ranger was unmoved. A! nother adivasi, Marigan pleaded, "We are Kattu (forest) Naickens. We have lived here all our lives. Our ancestors are all buried in this place."
About 50 years ago, the entire forest had belonged to the adivasis. They were free to come and go as they pleased, planting roots and tubers, little patches of ragi (millet), a few vegetables. Fifteen years ago, however, things became tougher. Their forest was declared 'reserved' and they were forbidden to fish, hunt, gather forest produce -- activities that had always been their birthright.
Realisation dawned late, that if they wanted to hold on to their ancestral lands they would have to prove possession.
They decided to plant permanent crops. They worked all day, drinking black tea to stave off the pangs of hunger, subsisting on a starvation diet of one meal of rice gruel (kanji) at night. They had to watch o! ut for bear attacks, angry elephants, wild boar and leopard. But they braved all this because they were tired of being moved on. They wanted stability, a safe haven and a future for their children.
They watched their crops grow with pride. The hard work in the cold wet monsoon had paid off. For the first time in their lives, they had food for their children three times a day. It had been worth the struggle.
Then suddenly, more than a decade down the line, the foresters arrived. "Why do they only pick on us?" Marigan, an elderly adivasi asked, totally bewildered. Pepper, coffee and food plants had been hacked to the ground. On the very same survey number, an adjacent plot owned by a rich man was left untouched. The adivasis had not cut down a single tree. They had planted their crops respecting the ambience of the forest.
The adivasis began their fight for justice. An understanding ! district collector promised them protection and the DSP visited their village after their complaint was registered. But it is a bitter victory for Soman and his friends who planted their land with blood, sweat and tears only to lose it when the fruit was almost ready to pick. The solidarity offered to the village by thousands of other adivasis from Gudalur taluka was some comfort to the people of Chembakolly.
Just a few months ago the Human Rights Commission visited Chembakolly and ordered a stay on the forest department's eviction. Their right to their forest habitat has finally been recognised.