Title - Weed-ridden shortcuts reflect the change

Decades ago during my childhood days at the sylvan health resort, Coonoor, walking briskly and inhaling fresh and unpolluted air remains unforgettable to this day. In those days, walking was a fashion in the hilly district, and public transport was never an option, there being just a handful of buses which plied on the Hill Cart Road between Ootacamund and Mettupalayam. Apart from buses, long distance travellers had the option of taking one of the three trains that plied daily between Ootacamund and Mettupalayam on the now UNESCO World Heritage Site — the Nilgiri Mountain Railway. I cherish the long walks in the countryside from my abode to visit friends or uncle.

Whenever a lorry going uphill appeared round a bend, one just had to inhale deeply and ‘hold your breath’ till the dense fumes emitted by the vehicle dispersed in the breeze. At times, diversions were taken along well-tread footpaths through the wilderness, surrounded by dense vegetation, flowering creepers and the ubiquitous lantana. One such path was used every day to access my school situated on the hill opposite to my home, the shortcut leading to the railway track and a bridge across a gurgling stream; where one had to pause and listen for signs of a train by laying an ear to the track before safely crossing the bridge with the heavy school-bag.

Everyone just had to walk about in any kind of weather — be it dense fog, sunshine or heavy rain. Owning a telephone instrument at home was a luxury and in an emergency one had to rush to a neighbour who had one. To dial another city, one had to ‘book a trunk call’ which could materialise anywhere between the next few minutes to five hours!

Today, a transformation has taken place in the district, with mushrooming population, vehicles of all shapes and sizes, multi-storey residences built with gross violation of building norms, et al. Noisy minibuses, auto-rickshaws and taxies, vie with each other for passengers despite their unreasonably high fares. The people prefer commuting in the number of minibuses and other means of transport. Owning a vehicle, or a telephone, is no longer a dream, and thereby the narrow lanes in residential colonies are crammed with vehicles leaving no room to manoeuvre. The shortcuts carved in the hillsides by thousands of walkers are overgrown with weeds due to disuse, pollution has increased and the spectacle of butterflies in vibrant colours is passé — as also the sighting of a stick-insect, leaf-insect, praying mantis and the rhinoceros beetle.

Walking on any of the main roads today one is at the risk of being hit by a vehicle. The Hill Cart Road, now known as National Highway 67, has more buses plying than ever. The quaint hill train plies once a day and the carriages have been reduced from six to three in view of safety, despite the introduction of two brand new indigenously built oil-fired steam engines to maintain the scenic train service for posterity.