In Danteshwari146;s Land

Our little group8212;tired and sleepy8212;is relieved to find five log huts and 15 well-lit tents at the campsite, which overlooks the falls. Four alluring tents, with the river almost lapping at their steps, dot the river bed; but during the monsoon, these are out of commission because the river floods. Lying on the easy chair outside my tent, I have a wonderful view of the waterfall, its rushing water enhanced by bright lights.

The next day, we are on our way to Kanger Valley National Park, home to leopards and deer, and some of the oldest living caves in the world. Forty-five per cent of Chhattisgarh is forested, but sadly we manage to spot only the odd village cow or two. The Dandak caves were officially discovered in 1996 and are among the oldest of caves with still-growing stalactites and stalagmites.

My mind8217;s eye revealed a woman, an old man and a chandelier among the dripstone formations.

The underground caves are about 20 metres deep and 200 metres long. A narrow tunnel, two by 10 metres, leads to another cave. Only the brave at heart would hazard a trip down this tunnel. Eerie as it is8212;dark, humid, and booming with echoes8212;the explanation of its name makes it creepier. Make that pricklier. According to legend, the caves were filled with porcupines, and lawbreakers were shut in the caves as punishment. Hence, Dandak 8216;dand8217; means punishment.

Older than the Dandak caves are those of Kutumsar. But the guides taking us through these caves claim there are other older caves known only to the villagers.

On the western boundary of the national park is the Tirathgarh waterfall. If the Indravathi takes one clean leap at Chitrakote, the Mungabahar trips from rock to rock, and step to step.

The roads in Bastar are long stretches of tarmac through miles of paddy fields, lying fallow at present. Mango and mahua trees abound, dotting the landscape. My mental images of rural India are corroborated here, except for the smooth roads.

What is a visit to a tribal belt without going to a haat? So we set out to the weekly market in Maardam village.

Bell-metal trinkets, oversized-pumpkins and tomatoes, mahua fruit 8230; But we scout for something more exotic, the much-heard-about chhapra8212;red-ant chutney. No luck, though. It had already sold out. We only get a look at a pouch of red ants that one woman has bought to prepare chhapra.

Once done with buying and selling, the villagers move on to the adjacent ground where liquor is being sold. Women sell the locally brewed drinks8212;salphi, mahua, laanda and thaadi.

The men move on to the next recreation: murgalaadi or cockfight. The birds are feisty, sparring with each other the minute they are set on ground. But it8217;s not time yet. The right match has to be found for each cock: The opponents must be similar in weight and size. And the crowd has to build because only then will the money flow.

One man tells us that the betting money is typically between Rs 10 and Rs 500, but can reach

Rs 2,000 8216;8216;if the birds are big and the man is rich.8221; Blades are tied to the feet of the fighting birds.

The match that follows is short and bloody. The vanquished one ends up on the dinner table.

Back at the camp, we watch a tribal dance under a bright moon. The dandaari dance is believed to be the origin of the popular dandiya, but the tribals use antlers instead of sticks for their dance. The spooky drone of the song sung by the dancers and the vividness of their bright-coloured clothes in the moonlight makes the experience simultaneously bizarre and exotic.