Trucked-Away!
Laying out research plots in the
forests, taking measurements of tree girth and height and collecting soil
samples are a routine that my field staff performs for nine to ten months in a
year. It is a tough and risky job, more so in wildlife-rich and naxal-affected
areas. We work for an organization called Forest Survey of India under the
ministry of Environment, Forests and Climate Change and our Southern Zone
office is located in Bengaluru. My team is in Bihar measuring the growing stock
of forests and estimating the trees outside the forest areas both in rural and
urban areas. On the first day of my visit to inspect the field work, I head
towards Arrah and further west. All along the road is a caravan of trucks,
mostly laden with sand. They are everywhere, moving like a jaywalker or parked
haphazardly obstructing the traffic. As we approach the British-era two-storey Koilwar
bridge on Sone river, the truck-induced traffic madness is an incomprehensible
maze. Honking match and overtaking spree is on from either side and there is no
escape. But our driver, who is capable of extracting oil from sand, squeezes some
space between the crisscrossed trucks, gets into the terribly and illegally
mined sand bed of Sone and Voila! We are out of the gridlock, driving over the
bridge and at the same time a train passes above us with a heart-shattering
noise.
Of
local cuisine and Delhi belly
When I ask my driver whether he had
breakfast, he smiles and replies, ‘nahin sir! Aaj aapko ek badiya jagah leke
jaoonga’. I protest stressing that I have already had idli and dosa at a
restaurant. But he insists that the famous hotel he is alluding to is on our
way to Gaya and there will not be any detour. The much-recommended restaurant
is a roadside stall and the swarm of flies engulfing the bun, pedha and other
assortment of dishes dissuades me from trying the fare. Rajkumar returns
triumphantly after a couple of minutes with a big, makkhan-filled, sliced bun.
He reveals with visible appreciation that the owner sells at least five
quintals of milk every day. I would have loved to taste all the local
delicacies-litti chokha, tilkut, khaja, anarsa, dal pitha, sattu but
most of the decent-looking restaurants and sweet shops in Patna do not offer most
of these. Unable to say no again to Rajkumar, I try tilkut and anarsa
from a push-cart vendor and my superfluous anxiety about Delhi-belly remains
just that.
The Grace of a Leaf
Vishnupada temple at Gaya is a complete
contrast to the spic and span environs of the Mahabodhi vihar. Pujaris tail you
urging not to forget ‘pinda danam’ to the departed souls at the Falgu
river. The afternoon sun is scorching and the temple floor has turned into
embers. I complete the darshan of black granite-carved feet of Lord Vishnu in a
jiffy and head to the Bodhi temple. Mobiles are not allowed inside the complex
and the security is tight. This is the place where Lord Buddha attained
enlightenment and the progeny of the original ashwattha tree under which the Great Man
realized that the world is full of sorrows, is well-protected. Visitors are not
allowed to pluck any leaf but can pick up the fallen ones. There is not much
crowd and I wait patiently. After a few minutes, a perfectly skeletonized
brown-coloured leaf floats gracefully down to the ground.
The Bucket List Bricks
On my way to check the inventory of
trees in rural areas, I cross Jehanabad, of the infamy of Dalit’s massacre.
Today is Ramzan and the road through the town is blocked by the mosque goers
who kneel on the road in large numbers. Children, dressed in their finest,
greet each other with excited giggles and hugs. Gun toting policemen keep a
vigil but there is a feel of relaxed calmness in the air.
After counting the trees and
checking the GPS location of the research plots, I take a detour to Nalanda in
the evening. The memory of brick structures from the faded pictures of primary
school text book comes back to me. Surprisingly, the ruins look no different. A
guide takes me through the amazing relics of this once magnificent university. The
small prayer chambers dug into the walls of the hostel rooms look
claustrophobic. A group of young men jump over a ‘no entry’ barricade and
clambers up the remains of a building for selfie. There are only a handful of
security personnel here and the raucous group returns to the same spot after
being shooed away. Mocked at and outnumbered, the guard leaves the spot cursing
under his breath. At the edge of an edifice, inside the university complex, a
religious ritual is taking place. A young woman, dressed to the nines and sitting
on a wooden stool is surrounded by a group of elderly ladies. It looks like a
happy occasion and preparations are on for a feast on the adjacent lawn. There
is a crowd of curious onlookers perching atop a nearby tree and on the compound
wall. The setting sun casts a wonderful orange hue on the bricks of the ruins
creating a brilliant mélange. No
wanderer can keep Nalanda out of her bucket list.
The Real Test Of Change
Open drains, garbage mounds and the
visibly unchecked sand trucks-these were not the images I was hoping for when I
landed in Patna. But I am just a visitor here and the best judge of change can
only be Rajkumar. And I ask him the question. “Things have improved a lot”, he
replies with conviction. “Ten years ago, the city used to shut down by six in
the evening because of the fear of criminals. Now we can walk on the streets at
night and enjoy dinner at a hotel”. Three cheers for that.
Bodhi Tree
Maha Bodhi Temple
Nalanda
No comments:
Post a Comment