"THIS is the
chaupal which Corbett Sahib made, where he would help
villagers resolve their disputes and problems," said my guide
Puran Bisht, as we walked up a narrow path to a raised platform
adjoining the compound of villager Trilok Singh. We were in
Chhoti Haldwani, just outside the Corbett Tiger Reserve in
Uttaranchal. Bisht, a young man just out of college, was taking
me through the Corbett Heritage Trail, a path leading through
the village and up to the Corbett Museum at Kaladhungi, where
the legendary Jim Corbett had once stayed.
As I climbed the
steps to the chaupal, a young girl emerged from an
adjacent hut with a muzzle-loader, a gun that Corbett gave
Trilok Singh's father, Sher Singh, for defense against wild
animals. That was in the early part of the 20th century, when
Corbett the hunter was gaining fame for ridding the area of
man-eating tigers and subsequently for passionately advocating
wildlife conservation.
For the people's welfare
This part of his
story is well known. Not so well known, however, are his deeds
for the welfare of the people of the area. Chhoti Haldwani
itself was a settlement he helped establish, starting with 10-12
families. In 1915, he bought 221 acres for the princely sum of
Rs. 1500. From this he rented out plots to these villagers. He
assisted in clearing their land for agriculture, providing
irrigation (incredibly, the mud and stone-lined canals are still
carrying water), helping build a wall to keep animals out of the
fields and, in many other ways, helping secure their
livelihoods. When he left for Kenya in 1947, Corbett handed over
ownership of the plots to the tenant-families.
Corbett's
motivations for establishing this settlement may have been
manifold: carrying on his name (he did not have a son),
establishing a model Kumaoni village, and establishing a clear
status and identity as a landowner. Such snippets of his life,
which introduce us to Corbett the person, are a key element of
the Trail.
Today the
village has over 150 families — about 750 people. But Chhoti
Haldwani itself was till recently forgotten and neglected. In
2001, the Centre for Ecotourism (set up by the Uttaranchal
Forest Department) began experimenting with three kinds of
community-based ecotourism products: trails, camps, and home
stays. Chhoti Haldwani was identified for the first. A
researcher, Anjali Bhartari, helped provide information and plan
interpretative facilities. The Centre organised discussions with
the villagers, seeking their opinion on tourism ventures linked
to Corbett's memory. Training sessions were organised, in which
village youth were taught the basics of visitor management and
given insights into Corbett's life. Six of those who took part
went on to become tourist guides. In 2003, a proper path was
laid out through the village, providing snippets of Corbett's
story on signboards in English and Hindi. In 2006, United
Kingdom's Minister of Environment and Climate Change inaugurated
a renewed trail.
"This is not
only a tourism trail. It has actually become a lifeline for
villagers," explained Bisht, "including being able to take their
agricultural produce out on a cart or tractor, bring provisions
in, and taking people to the hospital." As the significance of
the village path sunk in, I noticed a group of uniformed people.
Bisht explained that it was a team of forest guards from
Himachal undergoing training in ecotourism and other aspects. We
walked past them, up to a group of women harvesting tomatoes.
Another adjacent field had a mix of grains and pulses — the
village grows over 60 species of crops.
Home-stays
A man emerged
from the house behind the field, and smilingly signalled his
hello to us. Bisht introduced him as Sabir Husain Ansari and
mentioned that he had initiated a home-stay arrangement. Ansari
welcomed us into the new building he had constructed and proudly
showed us a room, which could easily have passed off as a
three-star place in a small town. How much did he charge, I
asked? The answer was Rs. 150 a night, and Rs. 60 for each meal.
Ansari and Bisht
then took me to a field in the midst of mango and litchi trees,
which they want to develop as a camping site with conference
facilities. Earlier on the Trail, Bisht showed me a building
under construction — a museum to showcase traditional utensils,
handicraft and other items of daily use. Unfortunately, both
these projects are going slow, due to lack of funds. I suggested
that they approach groups like the WWF for help; but it was
already active in distributing LPG connections to poorer
households (thereby reducing their dependence on firewood), and
training village women in tie-and-dye.
The training had
obviously paid off, as I discovered when we reached the Trail's
culmination at the Corbett Museum. Adjoining the museum, off the
Ramnagar-Nainital main road, the Samiti was managing a souvenir
shop rented to it by the Forest Department. Here, they sold
products of the village including tie-and-dye scarfs and
bedsheets, turmeric, maize, chilli powders. The proceeds went
back to the villagers, with the Samiti keeping 10 per cent.
Several village women had formed the Gajraj group, which
coordinated the textile work, and in turn kept the profits from
the sales. As I browsed, I was interrupted by a couple of the
women who had come to show their latest innovation... a scarf
with the footprints of a male and female tiger!
Raj Kumar Pande
and Mohan Pande, head and secretary of the Samiti, showed me the
records of earnings. In the last year, they had each earned
between Rs. 8,000 and 20,000, from guiding and from the shop.
Proudly they
showed the visitor's book, which had entries by the Chief
Ministers of Punjab and Haryana, the U.K. Forest Minister, and
others, all praising the village's initiative.
I asked whether
they would consider enhancing visitor value by providing organic
food. They had begun to think of it, hesitant because the land
had become addicted to chemicals, and the switch would take
time. Ansari was going to start with a part of his land, and
spread it if successful. They all knew that they could get a
higher price for organic produce.
As I got up to
leave, Pande mentioned a major cause of concern. Ironically, the
Heritage Trail had enhanced the value of the land in the village
considerably, and people from Nainital wanted to build
farmhouses here. Reportedly the price had gone up from about Rs.
40,000-50,000 to Rs. 5,00,000 a bigha! Already two plots
had been sold. The Samiti members were worried that if this
continued, the village would become urbanized and dominated by
outsiders, losing whatever heritage value it had. The Samiti was
considering petitioning the administration to put a ban on sale
of village land to outsiders. I asked if the gram sabha
could not be activated on such matters. It was important, they
said, for more villagers to see a value in maintaining the rural
life, and getting higher stakes in its heritage value, if
sell-out was to be avoided.
Unchecked growth
As I left the
village with Corbett's bust staring from behind, I noticed
another irony on the road. Every 100 metres or so was the
signboard of a tourist resort. Over the last few years dozens of
such resorts have come up, all of them cashing in on the
national park's tourism value, almost none contributing to the
Park's upkeep or to the livelihoods of the villagers around the
park. Many villagers had lost their access to the park's
resources, and could well have been compensated (some partially,
some more than adequately) if they had been facilitated to
manage the tourist inflow. The Centre for Ecotourism had at
least made a start towards redressing the balance.