Whispers of the Krishna

The forests of Nallamala are dry and rocky in many places, covered with open deciduous trees, bamboo groves, and seasonal streams. During summer, the land becomes harsh and barren. Dry grass burns under forest fires, trees lose their leaves, and the stony earth radiates heat beneath the sun. But with the arrival of the monsoon, the forest transforms completely. Fresh green leaves spread across the hills, climbers cover the trees, and flowering plants fill the valleys with colour and scent. The Chenchus understand these seasonal changes intimately because their survival depends on them.

At the center of this world flows the Krishna River.

The river cuts through the deep valleys of Nallamala, sustaining both people and wildlife. In a region where water is scarce, the Krishna becomes the heart of survival. During the monsoon, the river turns fierce and unpredictable, flooding valleys and reshaping the land. The Chenchus move through hidden pathways called Eththavala, natural routes along the hills that allow safe travel when floodwaters rise.

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In Geesagondi, permanent houses stood on higher ground overlooking the river valley, built safely above monsoon flood levels. But for most of the year, the village remained nearly empty. The families lived closer to the river. Along the banks stood temporary huts made from bamboo and thatch. Nearby, goats rested beneath the trees while children played across the rocky ground. Fishing nets hung beside cooking fires, and bamboo baskets lay outside the huts. Water was always nearby. Fishing could be done daily. The forest provided herbs, fruits, roots and honey. Only during the monsoon, when the Krishna swelled dangerously, did families move uphill into their permanent homes. A Chenchu elder smiled when I asked why they preferred living near the river.

“The river gives us everything,” he said softly.

For generations, hunting and gathering formed the foundation of Chenchu life. But slowly, another livelihood has begun shaping life along the Krishna. Many Chenchu families now depend increasingly on fishing for survival and income. Before sunrise, men walk toward the river carrying nets and bamboo baskets. Some stand waist-deep in water for hours while others travel by small boats across quieter stretches of the Krishna.

In Maddimadugu, Gangayya has become one of the few Chenchus building a small fishing livelihood with the support of several tribal families. Over the years, he learned fishing techniques from local fishermen and gradually organized work along the river.

Today, Gangayya and his group move across different stretches of the Krishna depending on water levels and fish movement. Fishing has become more than seasonal labour. It is slowly becoming a stable livelihood shaped by the rhythm of the river itself.

Another village along the banks of the Krishna River is Aalatam. The village is small, with only about thirty people living there. Flowing through the middle of the settlement, the Krishna River divides Aalatam into two sides. A few huts stand on the Andhra Pradesh side, while the remaining huts are located across the river in Telangana.

Smoke from cooking fires drifted through the trees while goats wandered between temporary huts near the river. Children ran barefoot across the rocky ground. There, I met Jyothi. She had married into the village eight years earlier. Though she had studied up to class eight, she chose to remain in the forest after marriage.

“The forest is everything for us,” she said.

As evening settled over the river, deer appeared quietly near the water. Somewhere in the distance, a wild boar moved through the bushes. Jyothi said such scenes were part of everyday life.

“Every day we see animals coming to drink water,” she explained.

Most illnesses are treated using herbs collected from the forest. Fever and minor sickness are managed through traditional medicine prepared by elders. Doctors are visited only when absolutely necessary.

Jyothi’s three children were all born inside the forest. Yet like many Chenchu parents, she sends her children outside the forest to stay with relatives so they can attend school. Families visit them once a month before returning again to the forests of Nallamala.

Even everyday survival in Nallamala requires long journeys. Families walk through dense forest paths to Maddimadugu to buy rice, salt, oil and other basic necessities. Life remains difficult, shaped by isolation, seasonal uncertainty and dependence on the land. Yet despite these hardships, many young people in villages like Aalatam say they do not wish to leave the forest permanently. The city may offer roads, electricity and employment opportunities, but for the Chenchus, life away from the forest feels incomplete.

The Krishna River is not important only to the Chenchus. Along its banks, the Golla community also depends deeply on the river and its grasslands. During the harsh summer months, when grazing lands dry up in their villages, many Golla families migrate toward the river with their livestock and remain there for months. Hundreds of goats, sheep and cattle survive on the rich grasslands that grow beside Krishna. The river thus becomes a shared landscape of survival, connecting different communities living within the Nallamala region. The Chenchus maintain warm and friendly relationships with the Gollas and other communities who arrive seasonally near the river. Food, resources, and everyday life are often shared, creating a quiet sense of coexistence within the forest. Though their livelihoods may differ, their lives remain connected through the rhythms of the river and the land.

In recent years, some Chenchu families have also begun raising goats and cattle alongside fishing and forest gathering. Their livelihoods are slowly adapting to changing times while remaining deeply rooted in the forest environment.

Education, too, is shaping a new generation. Today, many Chenchu families understand the importance of schooling and are sending their children outside the forest for education. Though their bond with the land remains strong, they hope education will open new opportunities for their children while allowing them to preserve their culture, traditions, and identity.

Hidden among the rocky valleys of Nallamala, the lives of the Chenchus continue to flow with the ancient rhythm of the forest and the river that have sustained them for generations.