Loutolim is like an
immersible world, like fish in a fishtank. The village is hemmed in by hills,
woods and trees and this where children and childhood are immersible; a reality
which is magical, almost fictional.
Loutolim
is an intrinsic part of this writer’s Goa journey and now adopted home, with
some of its residents family and others an extended part of the canvas of
experiences.
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Last
Sunday’s ‘Walk in the woods”, the title of one of your’s truly’s inspirations,
Bill Bryson ( he should be Knighted soon actually) of this village, was
magical. Especially with some family Lotlikars, the youngest of who is a
precocious 5 year old daughter going on 25, (with her chatter, ‘wisdom’ and
ability to reprimand her supposedly “all knowing” father and keep him in his
place like no other human ever has and ever will).
Of
course, we the adventure seekers know that the Loutolim woods are not the
Appalachian trail (which Bryson walked) which stretches from east coast of the
US from Georgia to Maine. But for us, they are no less thrilling. These woods
take ten minutes to walk from home and another 20 to 30 minutes of wandering,
and you are transported to another world of berries, the aroma of cashew
apples, the chirping of the birds and the bird’s eye view of the majestic Zuari
and the eyesore of a scar which is cutting through the heart of Loutolim’s
greenery, the “missing link road”.
The
woods are a climb. They stretch from the base of Orgao up the road next to the
Don Bosco school and beyond. The road actually bends to where the quarry is but
to get to the woods don’t follow the bend in the road but hit the grass and the
foliage. The woods take you in immediately, first with the low hanging fruit
(literally) and then with the berries and of course the view.
The
cashew trees are in bloom, some in full bloom and others about to get there.
The apples are in various stages of growth with some nuts still soft and the
others hardened. Each of the cashew apples were full of nature’s bounty. The
five year old took charge of the troops and commanded each to pluck the cashew
apples. It goes without saying that they had to be delivered to her and she
would decide who got a few to eat. Her Young Highness kept putting them away
diligently in bag meant for cashew apples and the other treasure of the
Loutolim woods- wild berries.
The
wild berries are unique. They are of three varieties which grow and are locally
called kanddam, chunnam and chaaram. All grow on thorny shrubs. They grow into
what we know as blue berries and black berries. A furious round of berry
plucking happened in the woods amidst the setting sun.
Unique
offerings of nature leapt out of the foliage. Like the bel maad tree, which
juts out, leafless like the Qutub Minar.
While
we were strolling in the forests, walking on the stony, rugged paths with
clumps of weedy grass poking through the surface, some thorny shrubs scratched
us, but did anyone mind? Through the woods, into the valley, we charged moving
up and down the narrow paths with a bit of a drop below. After a while we came
to a clearing which overlooked the fields and the river. In the forest below we
saw the neighbouring village of Solva and the cottage of one of our closest
friends, right in the middle of a dense thicket.
At
various intervals a quaint character turned up. She is a tribal form Jharkhand
who lives in the village, for whom these woods are actually home. The trees are
her friends, the woods are her hangout, she breathes the freshest air and eats
ripe berries and cashew apples. And she is generous. She worked hard to pick
handfuls of berries, then she pulled leaves and stitched them together to form
a little bowl and put the berries in there and gave it to us.
The
harshness of what we are doing to Goa, appeared in a vivid and sharp contrast.
These woods may soon be an aberration, when these were once the norm in
villages in Goa. This is where families had picnics and children had childhood.
Now they are taken in excursions to a few remaining places such as these to get
them to “experience” Goa.
These woods are a boon to childhood.
In these forest paths lie memories, light adventure and a sense of belonging.
And of course they are in Loutolim and they don’t produce better woods than
that. Mr Bill Bryson please take note.
