A Myth-Soaked Mangrove

On a balmy February morning some years ago, a group of us seeking peace, history, context, stories, inspiration, set out to the Pichavaram mangrove forest, a short 15 kilometres coastwards from Chidambaram. This is a magical place. Nestled between the Vellar River to the north and the Coleroon River to the south, separated from the Bay of Bengal by a solid band of sand, this coastal ecosystem is like no other place on earth. There are thousands of islands - it is impossible to keep count as the numbers shift with the tides - that dot the many channels, canals, and creeks that flow around and over them. The only way into the forest is by boat, or, on the shallower waterways, by foot. The place is a veritable maze, and only the local boatmen know their way around some of the parts of the forest and are intimately acquainted with the ebb and flow of the tides. They will take you around and are happy to point out the wealth of bird, marine, and floral life all around.