Is not the widely used term “human-animal conflict” an unjust expression? The phrase immediately places the animal kingdom as the other, fostering even more suspicion and hatred towards wildlife. The expression also insinuates that wildlife shares equal responsibility for the conflicts with humans.
Following a series of unfortunate incidents in Wayanad that has resulted in the loss of precious human lives, some sections of the media went on overdrive, sensationalising news reports with phrases such as “killer elephant” and “rogue animal”.
Malayalam news channels repeatedly used expressions like kolayali aana (murderer elephant), portraying the elephant as if it had executed a planned murder. Strong words like aanappaka and aanakkali, meaning “elephant vengeance” or “elephant rage”, only served to fan the tensions in the hilly district. We all know that words carry weight, and such terms can shape and influence our thoughts and attitudes toward the wild.
The elephant is certainly one of the most amiable wild animals when it comes to human presence. The vegetarian giant does not attack humans for food (mercifully they have never been labelled man-eaters) and often shrugs off most provocations. It is only when threatened or under extreme stress that an elephant reacts.
For all our celebrations and festivals, we need elephants at the forefront. Even the presence of a single elephant can bring splendidness to the event. One never gets bored of watching an elephant, and one never gets tired of writing about elephants. The simultaneous multiple motions of an elephant — its fan-like ears flapping in a rhythm, the cascading twirls of its trunk, the constant swaying from side to side, and the roll and shake of its head — bring alive a subtle piece of choreography, all performed in complete silence.
As it turns out, “can’t live with you, can’t live without you” could be the phrase that best expresses the relationship between us Keralites and elephants today.
I have witnessed the transformation of life in Wayanad over the last forty years, from a land of human-animal confluence to the epicentre of the so-called “human-animal conflict” today. I have always associated the letter “W” in Wayanad with the Wild. In the past, before Wayanad became a busy, noisy sprawling hill station, the tribal communities and the farmers showed a great sense of accommodation towards the wildlife. There was always a give-and-take between humans and the wild, with each respecting the other’s space. Whenever a wild animal appeared in a forest fringe village, no one crowded around, heckled or shouted to chase the animal away. They waited patiently, keeping a safe distance until the animal retreated deep into the forest. The villagers lived a simple life and never disturbed or trespassed on elephant corridors. Thatched-roof shops and stores in wayside towns traded in goods like cardamom, coffee, and pepper, while small eateries catered to travellers traversing interstate roads. Urbanism was unknown to the hills. It’s not surprising that as the world becomes increasingly human-centric, we tend to brand other species as adversaries at the slightest hindrance to our fancy modern ways of life.
harichitrakootam@yahoo.com
