Sea of Tranquility- a visit to Ladakh

How do you describe an increasingly popular tourist destination that has none of the de rigueur touristy sights to offer? No parks, no boating, no zoo, no safari and yes, no plastic bags. And less of oxygen too! In brief, Ladakh is vast emptiness and empty vastness. But for the layers and layers of mountains tipped with unblemished snow; gompas (Buddhist monasteries) and more gompas perched on daunting hills; golden and enigmatically smiling statues of Buddha; old chortens (stupas) dotting the landscape in every which direction you go; yaks grazing on the steep hillsides with the surefootedness of goats; serene lakes in out of the world settings and smiling, helpful people. To borrow the words of astronomers, the landscape of Ladakh is ‘magnificent desolation’ and ‘sea of tranquility’.

What then, is the magnet that draws thousands of backpackers, bikers, cyclists, adventurers, trekkers and the common noisy visitors to this remote corner of the country every summer? We found the answer during our ten-day stay at this hauntingly beautiful place.

Ladakh had been in my ‘to do’ list for over a decade now. Somehow, things fell in place only this year.

Even before you land on the Ladakhi soil, the visual treat begins. Halfway through the Delhi-Leh flight, a glance through the window reveals the Himalayan ranges unfold thousands of feet below in an unending glory till the horizon. What stunning majesty!

view of the Himalayas from the plane window

siya flowers which are found commonly in Ladakh

prayer wheels at Alchi

Sindhu and  Zanskar sangam near Leh

When we land, the weather is a bit foggy and damp with a clear chill in the air. Sticking to the general advice, we do not venture out on the first day and stay mostly indoors. Leh is at an altitude of 11300 feet from the MSL and Acute Mountain Sickness is not uncommon to the visitors, especially to those who arrive by flight.

Over the next nine days, we visit several gompas, witness the breathtaking beauty of three lakes, take a ride on a Bactrian camel, cross three highest motorable passes in the world, sight blue sheep, Himalayan Tahr, Tibetan wild ass, Bar-headed geese and finally, as icing on the cake, spot the Black-necked crane. We could not have asked for more.

Liker gompa with a golden Buddha

Leh palace

Buddha at Shanti Stupa, Leh

curious onlooker 

view of Leh town from Leh palace

black-billed magpie

Leh palace

at Nubra valley

The drive along the scary roads of ladakh is nothing short of a pleasure, thanks to the praiseworthy work by BRO. The signboards cautioning drivers about the perils of carelessness are delightful. Here are a few samples-'drive like hell and you will be there', 'short cuts will cut short your life'.

The Pangong Lake, made popular by Aamir Khan in ‘3 idiots’ is spectacular and idyllic. This salt water lake is about 134 km long and three fourth of the stretch lies in China-controlled Tibet. The water shimmers in hues of green and blue and the setting of the lake in a valley surrounded by high mountains is mesmerizing.

drive to Pangong lake

brown-headed gull at Pangong

Pangong lake

Pangong lake

Diskit Gompa

Sand dunes near Hunder

Camel riding at Hunder

Bactrian camels

view of Nubra valley

Nubra valley

when god paints the peaks

a schoolgirl at Turtuk

golden paintings

a small lake on the way

pashmina goats

Himalayan mormot

ruddy shelduck

Tibetan wild ass or Kiang

Pangong-at sunset

Pangong

Pangong-after sunset

Mountains near Pangong-early morning

Rufous-backed redstart-female

Rufous-backed redstart-male

Kiangs-in their natural habitat

Blue sheep

Yaks grazing

Hemis gompa

white wagtail

bar-headed geese at Tso-Moriri

Tso Moriri

Horned lark-female

Tso Moriri

Tso Kar

Kiangs at Tso Kar

In Ladakh, there are gompas galore. Always balanced on high mountains, it is nothing short of a mini-exercise to reach them. The temples of Buddha in most of these gompas are always quiet, peaceful and soothing, as we found in Diskit and Aclhi. The serenity one feels here is similar to the temples in the hills of Uttaranchal or the small, tiled shrines in the Western Ghats.

The presence of military is everywhere and they have struck a very good rapport with the locals. There is no unnecessary checking or frisking. In these isolated corners of the country, with a neighbor like China, you feel indebted to the lone rangers of the army. Our driver Rigzin tells that the army men are happy to see the tourists because once the visitors depart in September, it is a lonely, long and icy winter until April.

It was pleasantly surprising for us to notice that plastic bags/covers are completely banned in the entire district of Ladakh. Even in the remote village of Turtuk, bordering Pakistan, shopkeepers were using only paper/cloth bags. How I wish for such farsightedness among our administrators in Bangalore!

A nomadic woman at Changthang grasslands

Black-necked crane, the ultimate treat of our trip

Himalayan Tahr

Himalayan Tahr

Stupas 

Before I wind up, a few points about the perils of unregulated tourism. I was shocked and saddened to see plastic bottles, beer bottles, biscuit and chips packets strewn along the way to all major tourist destinations. At Pangong lake, tents are pitched right on the banks and it was a common sight to see people consuming alcohol. A place which is to be revered, respected and appreciated in silence is being defiled with impunity. There are hardly any regulations and nobody to enforce discipline. The vast grasslands of Changtang which provide sustenance and livelihood to the nomadic tribes and also to the wildlife are being destroyed by the tourists. Without understanding the importance of these grasslands, visitors take their four-wheelers all over the place. At Tso Kar, I was mortified to see jeeps driven to the very edge of the lake for ‘better sighting’ of the cranes. It is no wonder that the Black-necked cranes have moved further up since the spurt in tourism industry.

One last point on the ‘heights of self-importance’. Near Pangong lake and also at the Sangam of Zanskar and Indus river, we were witness to the use of red beacons and sirens by army officers. Imagine this. Barring a few vehicles and a handful of visitors, there is nobody around except for the bare mountains and then you hear sirens blaring shattering the quietude and an army officer -with family, of course- zooms past in a black Ambassador with a pilot vehicle leading the way. Now, who can beat that!? 

A Trek Through the Quiet Woods - kanasar to Thadiyar

                  During my college days and while preparing for the IFS exams, I had read about stem analysis, stump analysis and increment boring. We never did it practically. Now, when we are sawing this huge deodar tree, felled after several hours of backbreaking labour, I realize how difficult it is to cut trees in the forest using only saw and axe. We have taken nearly one and a half days to fell and saw this 125-year-old tree.

                    After completing the sawing operation, we feel that the hard times are over. But no, Biswal sir proves us wrong the next day. We sit on a carpet spread on the grass outside the barracks near the Kanasar forest guest house and sweat it out, plotting graphs and doing calculations. Supong is sitting in a corner. He seems to be deeply lost in thought. I wonder whether he is meditating. I ask him, ''what's up?" He slowly opens his eyes, "I don't understand any of these graphs. I'm very clear that I don't know anything". Then he bursts into his patented deep-throat laughter.

                    Thankfully, the rigors of drawing weird looking graphs and facing tricky questions in the viva are over. Pramod Pant sir has come from the Academy to accompany us for the trek. A local boy, Bhim, is coming with us as our guide. Our first destination is Deoban, about 14 km from kanasar. We begin at 9 am. Weather is pleasant and all are raring to go.

                    Initially, it is a slightly steep uphill climb.  After that we come to a forest path, sufficiently wide for a four wheeler. It is really pointless to walk fast in the forest. Not that you cannot but you don't feel like. There is so much to see and so much to feel. Unfortunately, Gamble of our batch, Ravikiran is not with us for the trek as he is down with a broken leg. Not much of bird life here. Occasional gliding of  red-billed blue magpies, cackle of laughing thrushes from a distance and great & spot-winged tits flitting from branch to branch on a nearby tree.

                    All of us reach the destination by evening, comfortably. We are served with hot tea and garam pakodas. Late in the evening Pant sir takes us to 'Deoban peak’. He says that the view of sunset from the peak is enchanting, provided we are lucky. All along our way to the peak, the green path seems to smile at us through the lovely, white aster flowers. We get a panoramic view of the neighboring areas from the peak. The ground here is carpeted everywhere with creamy cotoneaster blooms. It will still take half an hour for the sun to go down the horizon. We sit on the huge rocks near the precipice. Quietly. It is a serene feeling with silence all around. Words are not necessary at such moments. A huge lammergeyer glides majestically right below us.

                    Sunset is not spectacular. We take a few snaps and head back to the camp. After dinner, we retire to the comforts of our tents. No campfire tonight as it is very windy. Inside the tent we listen to the whooshing of the roaring wind gushing through the tall deodar, spruce and fir trees and it reminds me of the monsoons back home. Though it is quite chilly, our cozy sleeping bags help us to sleep comfortably.

                    The next day we start at 9.30 in the morning with an old forest guard as our guide. After walking for about two hours, we come across a small tea shop owned by a Gujjar. Having rejuvenated myself with a hot cut of tea, I decide to walk alone. When you walk alone in a forest, you don't feel lonely. You feel content, walking in the cool, green shades with gentle breeze caressing your body, filling every pore with new energy. And you don't feel exhausted (provided the rucksack is not very heavy and terrain not too steep!).

                    I reach the forest rest house (FRH) early, at about 4 pm. Constructed in 1882, on a sloping glade, the building is at an altitude of around 8,000 ft. The entire place looks calm and picturesque, as if directly dropped down from the heavens above. After the tents are pitched, I join my friends for volleyball amidst a lot of hullabaloo. It is good fun. In the night, sitting by the campfire, we persuade Arjun, son of the chaukidar to sing songs. After much prodding, he begins and his sonorous voice compels all of us to lend our ears. He acquiesces to sing another song, much to our delight.

                    In the morning, before starting towards Kathiyan, I take a few pictures of a mare and her foal, owned by the chaukidar. The young one is only five days old and when I inch closer, it starts capering. The local guide says that Kathiyan is 40 km away. I don't believe him. We have learnt not to trust the estimates of distance given by the pahadi (hill) people. They can be extremely arbitrary.

                    Five of us (Garwad, Jakher, Manoj, Rajamohan and I) decide to walk fast today. To our discomfort, only half of the route is through the woods. The rest of the walk is under the scorching sun on a motorable mud road. We stop in between to have a cup of tea at a roadside shack. While I dip a bun into the hot tea and devour it, Manoj comments that the bun belongs to the pre-historic period. Unperturbed, I continue munching it. After asking the local people for direction, we resume our walk. We reach the Kathiyan FRH at 1.30 pm. This is the oldest of all the rest houses I have visited so far (built in 1872). One room in this FRH is supposed to be haunted and we enquire the chaukidar about it. He is evasive and says that he has not seen any ghosts but some people might have experienced strange things. After a cold-water bath, we take a walk to see the village and to buy some snacks.

                    Disappointingly, the ghost haunting the forest rest house decides not to trouble the lady trainees sleeping inside! All the men sleep in the tents hoping that the ghost would not find the tents too tempting to take a closer look!

                    The next morning at 11 am, the last leg of our trek begins. The "Thadiyar March' is coming to an end. It is a 14 km mostly downhill walk to Thadiyar. As we descend, the change in the vegetation is clearly apparent. There are large tracts of chir pine forests with rills on the stems, indicating regular resin extraction by the forest department. The walk amidst the chir forests and along the stream banks is pleasant. When we reach Thadiyar at 3 pm, the Academy bus is already waiting for us.

                    Our driver Bisht says that it is a ten-hour journey to Dehradun. We have no complaints. All of us shout merrily on the successful completion of the trek. It has been a wonderful experience. The towering deodars, the feel of the carpet of slippery pine needles beneath our feet, enchanting old rest houses, Arjun's soulful songs, gliding of the lammergeyer near Deoban Peak- all will be etched in my memory for a long time to come. The quiet woods of the hills beckon us. We will be back. Hopefully, soon.

                                        April 2002    

The Only Constant

“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don't resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.” 
- Lao Tzu

Last month, after celebrating my son Adithya’s birthday with a boisterous bunch of fifteen of his friends, we were terribly exhausted. A dinner table discussion that followed amongst three families revolved around the changes that have taken place over the years in our daily lives. And the birthday was the starting point.

Most of the middle class families in the eighties, especially in small towns and rural areas almost never had birthday celebrations. I remember my mother or father saying to me, ‘Oh! You are twelve now’ or ‘tomorrow is your birthday’. That’s it. No cake, no wishes, no gifts, no party. A mom-made delicacy of our choice was the only deviation from the routine. I don’t think we were disappointed by the absolute lack of festivity or fanfare. We had never seen any birthday parties then. So, nothing to compare with and crib. Ignorance is always bliss.

Now the times are different and so are the societal ways and habits. Today, here in Bengaluru, my children attend the birthday parties of their friends and so it is quite natural for them to expect to have their own! Cakes, sweets, presents, return gifts (I discovered this phenomenon recently!), music, a bit of shouting and a ransacked house. I don’t see anything wrong with this, especially when the group is confined to kids. Of course, it is a bit tiresome job-arranging the parties-but it’s okay. I do not wish to pontificate to my kids about 'I never celebrated birthdays, so why should you?', kind of stuff.  Even though it is an overused cliché, change is the essence of life.

When I joined the service, I remember a senior officer giving me a long sermon about how he used to ride a bicycle as a range forest officer in the early seventies. He went on and on about his exploits as an officer ending with the criticism of present crop of foresters who ask for vehicles as soon as they join the department! Thirty years is a long time and I graduated to a motorbike during my range officer days. Today, the trainee foresters are usually provided with Gypsies or Boleros. Should I envy my younger colleagues? Swift mobility is critical for efficiency.

Thanks to mobiles and internet, we are now inundated with forwarded emails, smses and whatsapp messages on the emotional tug of our childhood. Mostly on how different our younger days were in comparison with the present generation’s. Jagjit Singh made us collectively sigh with nostalgia listening to his immortalized rendition of ‘woh kagaz ki kashti’. I have come across some wonderful quotes on how we (the older generation. C’mon, we are pushing forty!) enjoyed our evenings and holidays a few decades ago, maybe not uttering the word ‘bore’ even once, even though there were no mobiles, TV, computer, Xbox or tablets. Nowadays we do not see our kids playing hopscotch and lagori. Innumerable indoor games like ludo, snake and ladder and different versions of cowrie-based dice games have all but vanished from the lexicon of our children. Almost all city-bred kids possibly cannot recite a single rhyme in their mother tongue. Is this something to be worried about?

 Twenty years back I might have perhaps laughed if someone had told me that I would be paying money to eat jackfruit one day. Or shell out twenty rupees for a litre of drinking water. But that’s how things stand in the twenty first century. We buy and eat jamun, guava, ber, anjur and all other assortment of local fruits which were a part of the regular diet of school children not far too long ago. 

In our homes, electronic appliances have all but substituted hard labour. Washing clothes, baking, grinding and increasingly, floor mopping and dish washing have been taken over by the machines. A relative of mine who is very traditional and conservative used to criticize the use of gadgets at home. ‘If you don’t bend and work, how will you get physical exercise?’, was his irritated jibe towards his tech-adopting relatives. He detested the invasion of dining tables into our kitchens in the eighties. Within the next ten years, he had almost all those machines in his house. And yes, the dining table too. It is very convenient for the elderly, no?

Our diets have been altered considerably over the years. Oats, cornflakes, readymade wheat flour, canned food articles, pepsis and colas, innumerable bakery products etc. are a regular part of our meal. We see a mad rush in the sweet shops on the eve of festivals. Who has the time to roll laddus or bake halwas?

Life has gained pace over the years. People have new aspirations and ambitions. Education is becoming more eclectic and also competitive. Families have grown smaller. Women are increasingly becoming financially independent. Everything is 24 x 7. Time is at a premium. Changes are inevitable.

But all the sighing and shake of heads about ‘things have gone bad’ are firmly based on the assumption that things were wonderful in the (g)olden days. Or to take the argument further, that there was always a utopia before. Was it during the Maurya period or Ashoka’s rule or Gupta dynasty or Akbar’s regime? Or Vijayanagara empire? Does this hypothesis stand the test of closer scrutiny?

Bengaluru was heavenly once. It is in a shambles now. We can curse and despair or look at it as a bouquet of opportunities. Metro connectivity, increasing awareness among young voters, positive alternatives in our otherwise bleak political spectrum, talent pool of educated youth, local initiatives for a greener city. One day, this city could well be one of the most livable in the world.

Change is the biggest leveler of all, just like death, or the traffic of Bengaluru!

As long as change does not adversely affect human beings as individuals or as a society, does not threaten the basic fabric of our peaceful existence, there is perhaps no need to battle this force of nature. 

Outsmarting the Mir Jafars

In his first presidential address, Mohammad Ali Jinnah told the constituent assembly of Pakistan in August 1947 that one of the biggest curses that India was suffering from was bribery and corruption. Sixty seven years down the line, things have not changed much. If we go further back in history, whether Mir Jafar helping Robert Clive or Mir Sadiq stabbing Tipu Sultan in the back, or the intrigues and conspiracies in the Maratha clans, all point to a basic human trait. Some kind of Murphy’s Law.If there are opportunities to bribe and to be bribed, there will always be some people who will utilize them for their benefits.

Therefore, in these interesting times when we hear some people shout from the rooftops that they would root out corruption from India, it is pertinent to pause for a moment and ask, ‘can this really be done’? When Transparency International or any similar organization comes out with the ‘corruption index’, the countries are graded from very clean to highly corrupt. None of the countries is classified as ‘corruption-free’. If Denmark or Finland or Switzerland – small, developed nations with miniscule populations-cannot wipe out corruption, can we, a country of a billion plus with a multitude of cultures, languages, aspirations and attitudes, achieve this? I think what is needed to be focused on and can be achieved to a considerable degree is lessening of corruption by reducing the opportunities to indulge in corruption.

When I joined as a trainee in Chhattisgarh in 2004, Right To Information Act was on the anvil. It was still not obligatory for the babus to part with what they perceived as ‘sensitive’ information. Once I observed that an officer who was ahead of his times had declared the results of the written examination for a government post on the same evening. This is a rarity even now in most state government recruitments. ‘If you are transparent, there is nothing to fear about. If you delay, then there is a lot of scope for mischief’, he told me. So, transparency is the key to trim down corruption.

To achieve this transparency, we need to wholeheartedly embrace information technology. IT can revolutionize governance and reduce corruption in a big way. Along with IT, use of widely connected mobile networks can help to improve the quality of life of ordinary citizens. Here are a few examples.

1.   One of the biggest areas of corruption in government sector is civil work. It is so brazen that the public has almost accepted substandard works as a part of their environment. But a little enthusiasm and enforcement from the top can go a long way in changing this gloomy scenario. All departments that take up any kind of civic work-road repairs, laying of new roads, repair of footpaths, building constructions, repair of sewage lines, creation of playgrounds etc- can be mandated to put all the estimates, GPS locations, approvals, certified reasons for taking up the work, details of contractors, purchases and costs, certification of quality, inspection reports etc. of each work on their respective websites. This would make it easier for people to know more about the work in their neighborhood or elsewhere. When there is a fear that someone might question the quality and quantity of work with hard evidence, the executioners will be more careful.

2.   Wages is one more important area where government employees make money. Underpayment, non-payment, extraction of more work than what is permitted in a day-there are different ways to shortchange the poor, deserving laborers. MGNREGS was perhaps the first scheme where it was made mandatory to remit wages to the bank/post office accounts of the workers. This does pose a problem in backward and naxal-affected areas but can be implemented successfully in more accessible regions. When it was suggested about four years back by a relatively young forest officer that this could be implemented in Forest Department, he was advised ‘to learn to live like a bureaucrat’ by an affectionate senior while another superior did not want to see his face.Making it binding for all government departments to pay wages to the worker through bank accounts could be a giant stride forward in substantially minimizing corruption.

3.   Government purchases is another significant function of the departments where shady deals are routinely struck. Apart from paying more than what the items merit, there is also the possibility of purchasing substandard products at a higher cost.Then there is the question of necessity. Again, mandatory online display of all the purchases above a particular ceiling, say 10,000 rupees, by all the departments with information on the rationale of purchase, procedure followed, the authenticity of the supplier, verification of the quality of the product, online market price etc could bring down the level of fraud drastically.

4.   Whenever I pay my income tax dutifully, I wonder about the businessmen, doctors and shopkeepers who evade tax flagrantly. Doctors don’t give receipts, businessmen show losses and shopkeepers avoid issuing bills for the purchase we make. Only technology-driven intervention like mandatory billing monitored by linking the computers of the sellers/service providers to the government’s database etc can improve the situation bringing in more revenue to the government coffers.

5.   Several state governments have adopted guarantee of certain basic services in a time-bound manner to the citizens through Acts such as Sakala in Karnataka. Is it not possible to extend grievance redressal to all citizens of the country through a uniform system like the 911 helpline in the United States?

If someone complains to a civic body about the non-existent street lights or unusable footpath near her house, she will in all likelihood be directed to contact the concerned engineer. Now, is it not the duty of the civic body to ask the concerned engineer to address the problem and then inform her?

Let us suppose that a socially and economically disadvantaged person in the interiors of Bidar district of Karnataka has a complaint that a powerful landlord is trying to take over his land with the connivance of local tehasildar and police. What can he do? Give a complaint to the district Superintendent of Police or Collector? How will he follow up the case? How many times he may have to visit the district head quarter? If he is given the facility of complaining through mail/phone and if it is mandated that the complaint has to be addressed within fifteen days and the outcome intimated to the complainant, then there is some hope of justice for the farmer.

These are but only a few examples which one can think of without going deeper into the malaise. The effects will be clearly visible when the implementation is from top down. A few scattered individual efforts cannot have a national resonance. And ultimately only those initiatives that are clearly defined, commonsensical and time-bound will have an impact on the lives of common man by reducing the scourge of corruption. But no effort can ever eradicate corruption completely. That will always remain a wishful thinking.

Kids Will Be Kids

Some time back while I was giving bath to my son Adithya, he suddenly dropped a bombshell.

‘Appa, what is life?’

Spirituality, religion and philosophy have never been my cup of tea and my knowledge on these subjects is at best peripheral. As I picked up my jaw from the bathroom floor, wondering how best to answer this existential puzzle that bothered my seven year old son, Adithya helped me with a second question.

‘Why is it written that two life left, one life left?’

Ah! There you go!! From then on, I reduced his quota of computer games by a good thirty minutes every week.

As a parent, we are supposed to appreciate and encourage kids to ask questions. I remember a teacher admonishing his eight year old son when I was a post-graduate student. ‘Ask me anything, but don’t ask ‘why’ for everything’! What the heck, I had thought then. Now, a wise father of two boys, I have no hesitation in agreeing to the sage words of my teacher. There is one more thing I have discovered in my short profile as a father. Parents experience tender and loving thoughts about their children when they are fast asleep or after they have left for school. Really!! Once I called a friend of mine and asked him what he was doing. ‘Relaxing. I have just dropped my daughters for the tuitions!’ Similarly another friend quipped, ‘son has left for school. And there is peace at home.’ Though told in a lighter vein, this also shows the talent of kids to exasperate parents.

Children are capable of astonishing us with their amazing abilities that can send any Limca World Record holder scurrying for cover. One Sunday morning I found my two sons discussing something animatedly sitting on the bed. They had just got up, had not brushed their teeth and their faces were hardly ten centimeters away from each other! Kids are immune to common irritants like smelly mouth, untidiness, homework and squalor. I can bet my neck that the amount of dirt and grime you scrub off their bodies during an evening bath would not be less than the quantity of muck spewed out by the washing machine after cleaning a heap of doormats. Homework is perhaps the most important activity that most kids are allergic to. They can tell you with a straight face that there is no homework on a particular day but the next morning they startle you by asking why you did not make them to do the homework last evening! Now the teacher would scold them and only you are responsible for that!! The drama and absolute lack of focus young children exhibit during studies is something that can put to test patience of the most composed parent. When exams approach and my wife begins to teach Adithya in the evenings, I volunteer to do the dishes or other chores in the kitchen. Else it is easy to fly off the handle at the study table with kids who are staring blankly at the books waiting to watch Doraemon!

These days it is interesting to listen to the lingo of small kids. When I ask my son to hurry up so that he won’t be late for school, he responds with a lazy ‘chillax, chillax appa’! Initially innocuous and funny, the language and slangs used by kids pose a challenge to the parents as they grow up. We start worrying about the company they keep and it is indeed a struggle against the inevitable trying to filter curse words and expletives in their conversations with friends. Oh my god, how will I explain to him why he should not use those words!?

All the parents daydream that their kid would one day become a scientist or an officer or a great musician or even a software engineer. After the rise and rise of Arvind Kejriwal, may be, a politician too. ‘She picks up the tunes so very well’, ‘my daughter is only three and she is such a good dancer. You should see her dancing for munni badnaam hui’!, ‘he is very good at counting and yesterday he told me exactly how many chocos he ate with milk’, ‘my son is going for robotics class you know! He is just seven and the teacher says he does better than the thirteen year olds’!! For all these planning and dreaming, children keep shifting the goalposts relentlessly. My elder son wants to be a space scientist one day, a Virat Kohli or Chris Gayle the next and then an actor and then a singer and so the list goes on and the younger son wants to be a train driver, pilot and doctor. But today, given a choice and chance, most kids would prefer to spend their evenings playing with their friends or watching cartoons. Just being kids.

In the tiger land - a brief visit to Dholkhand

          

Dear friends, yesterday while I was going through old files stored in an external hard drive, I found this article written more than ten years ago. I do not know whether this will appeal to all but somehow, this piece is close to my heart and I thought of sharing it with you.

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In the tiger land - a brief visit to Dholkhand

It is more than one year in the Academy and still we have not been to Dholkhand. A bit shameful, really. Hardly 40 km from the IGNFA (Indira Gandhi National Forest Academy, Dehradun) campus, Dholkhand has a long history of forest administration. When we finally decide to explore the wilderness of Dholkhand, seven people volunteer for the endeavor. On 1st of November 2002, we start at 3 p.m. in one jeep and one bike.

Before entering the National Park, we stop at Dholkhand town for a tea break. Inside the Park, the presence of Gujjars, the traditional migrant herdsmen, is clearly evident, what with hundreds of grazing cattle and lopped tress. Mani and Manoj, who are riding ahead in the bike, spot an Indian Rock Python crossing the road. I get a chance to click a couple of photos. The reptile is nearly six feet long and hisses in alarm as it senses our presence. We retreat without wishing to trouble it further. The FRH is 12 k.m. from the entrance of the Park. Across the rau, at the horizon, the setting sun is like a fireball. Red and mild, not fiery, against the dusty forefront. Yonder, on the edges of a small ridge, smoke emanates from the thatched Gujjar huts.

When we reach the FRH it is 5.30 pm. Built in 1883 and renovated in 1958, this is perhaps the second oldest FRH I've visited after Kathiyan. Surprisingly and unfortunately, the department personnel are not aware of our visit. There is no drinking water, no electricity. Achchelal, the forest guard, who is in charge of the FRH, goes out to fetch water. There are cane chairs put outside in the verandah, on an extended circular portion of the floor. We sit and relax, waiting for Achchelal to return. This place is at an altitude of 475 meters implying that we have traveled down from Dehradun. A 'namkeen' packet is opened and aimless discussions begin. Manoj mentions mildly that if everyone remains silent for sometime, we might hear some animal calls. All of us prick up our ears and promptly hear the alarm calls of chital and barking deer.

Achchelal returns at 8 pm. with water in a tractor and with him is Ramsharan, a field assistant working at the field station of Wildlife Institute of India at Dholkhand. Manoj knows him and the plan for tomorrow is chalked out. Ramsharan is a true gentleman. Mild-mannered, soft-spoken and according to Manoj, excellent in field. He volunteers to prepare dinner and the lady probationers chip in with their might. I sit in the dining hall and go through the old register of the FRH under the dim lantern-light. Many well-known persons have visited this place. In almost every page I find the name of Mr. A J T Johnsingh, the renowned wildlife biologist. The furniture in the bedrooms and dining hall are old but give that 'period' look! Dinner is simple. Rice, dal, aloo sabji and pickle. But in this wilderness setting, it tastes wonderful. Post-dinner, we again sit outside hoping to hear some more alarm calls.

02-11-02

                   When there is a stream flowing near the place of your stay in the wild, all the problems of ablution are solved! It feels great to complete the morning formalities near the stream, looking at the wide-eyed chitals!! There is a lot of bird activity near the FRH. A big flock of Indian Pied Hornbills is cackling endlessly. Manoj says that they fall silent once the sun comes up. Ravi spots two gorals silhouetted against the sunrays atop the 'goral ridge'. One is feeding and the other is standing still near a stunted bush. We watch them for about five minutes.

                   It is a bit late when we start after completing the breakfast at 9 a.m. A snake path winds down behind the FRH before joining the now almost dry 'Dholkhand rau'. Hardly 100 meters behind the rest house, on the sandy banks of a small nalla, we find fresh pugmarks of a tiger. "Big tiger", gasps Ramsharan and measures the dimensions using a tape. It must have walked along this route yesterday night. "Had we come in a smaller group, some of us could have sat on this tree and would have definitely seen this tiger", Manoj quips pointing to a small tree overlooking the stream. Further ahead, along the rau, we find more tiger pugmarks. The sand bed is awash with the footprints of other mammals, mainly chital and less frequently, sambar, porcupine and jackal.

                   A small bridge is being constructed across the Dholkhand Rau. It would help in more connectivity for the forest department personnel, further destroying this already fragile habitat. Noise of stone crushing, movement of tractor, chatting labourers, smell of burning bidis. No wonder we do not spot even chitals all through our walk along the rau. On a small ridge, just above a salt lick, 40-50 langurs are resting. The rau ends and we take a turn to the right towards the base of Goral ridge. As we approach a small patch of Crotalaria plants at the base, suddenly a swarm of butterflies flies off. Glassy tigers, striped tigers, common crows and emigrants. Since we are already late, I don't have time to wait and photograph. I can click on our way back.

                   There is a big Banyan tree near the base of the Goral ridge, with thick prop roots. Manoj opines that if we can spend some time sitting on this tree in the late evening or early morning, it would be rewarding in terms of sightings of wildlife. The initial stretch is grassy and a bit slippery. But the climb is not tough. Ramsharan walks ahead with the gait of a goral along the narrow path atop the rising ridge. Padma needs a helping hand here and there but manages admirably. Geetanjali, as usual, is the last person, ambling along enjoying the views on either side of her. Suddenly we hear the loud alarm calls of a sambar. Lo, there! Right below us to the left side of the ridge, on a small open patch of the forest, a hind is standing. She must have seen us and hence the alarm. After a couple of seconds she turns and bolts.

          We reach the top at 11.45 a.m. From a height of 715 m from the MSL, the peak gives a panoramic view of the area around. There is nothing much to see here and after relaxing for half an hour, we start back. Walking down is always trickier than climbing up. At some places we are forced to crawl. Still, it is an easy walk. Near the rau, I don't forget to take the photos of the butterflies. Along the way, the sour taste of Zizyphus and Carissa fruits does not desist us from devouring them. We reach the FRH at exactly 1 p.m. Lunch is ready. New cook who has come from a nearby village has done a good job. Dal and sabji are delicious. No mood to go out after a sumptuous meal. Most of us resort to the best possible course of action-a siesta!

                   The evening walk to the watchtower overlooking the rau proves fruitless. Mani and I go to a nearby area and hide below the drooping braches of a tree overlooking the stream, hoping to get some good snaps. Not even the spotted deer are interested! We return to the watchtower after a 40-minute vigil. On the way back, Mani spots leopard pugmarks on the wet sand bed. Disappointed at our unproductive evening venture, we tread to the FRH. Amla fruits are ripe and inviting. The sweet taste of water after you eat amla fruits always makes me nostalgic! Later, after the sun has completely gone down, sitting silently near a streamlet, we watch a sambar approaching gingerly. It walks off at the same pace after drinking water.

3-12-02

                   Breakfast can wait. Not willing to repeat the mistake of yesterday, we start early, at 7.30 a.m. Ramsharan has decided that it would be more rewarding if we walk along the Sambavali rau, which runs in the opposite direction from our yesterday's walk. There are plenty of tiger pugmarks on the sand bed. There is fresh dung of elephants all along. A herd must have passed by a few hours before. Even after walking for half an hour, elephants are still elusive.

                   Ramsharan decided that the best way to sight elephants is to follow their track. And it works. Through the binoculars, Ramsharan spots a lone elephant slowly feeding on a ridge top, about 200 meters in front of us. Its face is not visible and we are not sure how many more could be there. Manoj, Ramsharan and myself volunteer to find out. Our guide knows that we have to be extremely careful while approaching elephants. A lesson he has learnt that hard way! Again we follow their tracks. Ramsharan asks us to stay put about 30 meters behind the elephants and moves ahead to investigate. As we watch, he silently proceeds very close to the feeding elephants and signals us to go closer. There are three, which we can see. One of them is a tusker. Some more must be feeding down the ridge. For the first time I am watching the elephants from such close quarters. Later, Ramsharan walks down to bring the rest of the group. I dare to get a bit closer. There! A small calf walks in front of the feeding elephants. I wonder whether the pachyderms are really oblivious to our presence or they are just not bothered since we are not disturbing them. But after a while the tusker stops feeding and stands still. A female, which is standing hardly ten meters away from the tusker, has also stopped feeding. Perhaps they have taken note of our intrusion. We decide not to trouble them further and silently withdraw after everybody has got a closer look.

                   It has been a satisfying morning walk. Again, on our way back, we see several fresh tiger pugmarks. Ramsharan spots a goral on the top of a ridge opposite to us. It is my closest sighting of the goral. I walk slowly, looking at the golden light falling on the creepers clothing a ridge wall. Looking ahead, I see all my friends huddled together in a group, frenetically looking through the binoculars at a bushy patch on the banks of the rau. Sensing something interesting, I rush towards them. Then I hear a clear growl. ‘Tiger, tiger’, Manoj whispers. I scan the entire area through the binoculars, but it is gone! One tigress and two cubs. Ravi saw the tigress and Raja Mohan could get a glimpse of the cubs.

                   The king of the jungle has eluded me, again. Even though I am disheartened, it is a nice feeling to know that still there is a viable population of tigers here despite the mounting anthropogenic pressures. After this exciting encounter, all of us feel elated and energized. On a different route to the FRH, we see broken branches of Rohni trees and fresh piles of elephant dung. It is 10 a.m. when we reach the rest house.

                   A walk towards the Ranger's office after the breakfast proves very productive. Sightings of Blue-bearded Bee Eater, Lesser Yellownape and Lineated Barbet. We are back in the FRH at lunchtime. No zeal left to venture into the forest again! After lunch, we wait for the vehicle to take us back. Susheel, our driver, who is late as usual, says that he saw a tiger on his way back to Dehradun, after dropping us here. Knowing him, we take his claim with a generous dose of salt. As the jeep winds through the dusty road cutting across the rau, we spot nilgais and jackals. It has been a good outing. We have spent only two days here and it has really whetted our appetite. This is perhaps one of the best places to spot tigers. Most importantly, what has struck me during this visit is that, despite the relentless human pressures, the resilience of nature is amazing. It is the duty of all of us to see to it that the tiger lands like this continue to provide us an opportunity to be one with the nature, albeit for a fleeting moment.

The Measures of Progress

With moist eyes, my office driver Basappa told me that he would never work in Kerala again. I understood him and empathized with him. He had seen his government jeep vandalized and burnt down in front of his eyes. And he along with his four colleagues had managed to escape death by the skin of his teeth. ‘Even when we ran into the naxals in Andhra Pradesh, we were treated well’, Basappa said.

Kannur district in Kerala has a well-chronicled history of political violence. But this fact never crossed my mind when our team went to Kannur for the forest inventory work. The first few days were uneventful even though the local forest staff cautioned about some public protests in the region. This is nothing new in Kerala and my staff is used to being interrogated, their ID cards checked and clear resentment shown by the local people. But what they encountered in Kottiyur range of Kannur on a fateful November night is terrifying.

The irony is that my staff had not even heard about the Kasturirangan committee which has recently submitted its report on Western Ghats to the central government. The report has been provisionally accepted by the Ministry of Environment and Forests and the same news was being broadcast during that period across Kerala. The villagers mistook the FSI team to the Kasturirangan committee members who they thought had come to survey their land, measure the extent of encroachments and evict them. The local forest staff explained to them about the mandate and work of FSI and so did our staff. But the reasoning fell on deaf ears. The local people are wise enough to grasp this but they did not want to listen and understand. The idea was to create an unrest that would effectively preempt the implementation of the Committee report which would allow the encroachers and quarry mafia to preserve the status quo. The FSI team was taken hostage, approach road blocked and a mob of more than two thousand people gathered in no time. Soon, miscreants in the group began to pelt stones and a young staff of FSI was injured on the forehead. When blood started gushing out, he was not allowed to be taken to the hospital. ‘Let him die here’, was the response of the crowd. A small, unarmed contingent of thirteen policemen who managed to reach the spot was chased away and our staff was attacked. My staff, which included an ageing driver, ran for their life with several drunken men in hot pursuit. Fortunately, they managed to scamper into a thick and steep patch of forests. They spent three hours in the darkness not knowing where to go. A good Samaritan gave them shelter and police reinforcements managed to reach the site in the midnight and rescue them. Eleven government vehicles including an FSI jeep were burnt that night.

Violence happens everywhere and when there is a mob situation, things usually spiral out of control. But why I am saddened more today is because this happened in a literate, forward looking and aware State like Kerala. In 2005, when our first son Adithya was born, we went to a government hospital in Kottayam for vaccinations. I marveled at the facilities at the hospital and the clockwork efficiency with which it was run. The building was spic and span, staff was helpful and the doctors were on duty. Such well-managed government hospitals are unimaginable in any other part of India.

But beneath these apparent signs of progress, there lay layers of maladies which afflict the Malayalee society today. Highest per capita consumption of liquor, the highest crime rate in the country, one of the top States in crimes against women, institutionalized dowry system, insatiable infatuation with the yellow metal, obscene display of opulence in the form of palatial houses and luxury cars.

Ram Chandra Biswas from West Bengal has bicycled across 157 countries over a period of 29 years. He says, ‘I have never received more hospitality than in Africa. In a poor country, you will find hospitality, humanity, love and peace. In a rich country you will find anger, jealousy, fear and selfishness’ (Down To Earth, Nov 1-15, 2013). Me and my wife can say without an iota of doubt in our minds that we have never come across people who are more peace-loving, genuine, dependable, simple, trustworthy and wonderful human beings than the adivasis of Chhattisgarh. When we progress materially in life, do we gradually become more self-centered? Do we tend to be indifferent to the importance of relationships, love and empathy? Do we transform into egotist, glum, aloof, stiff upper lip society that is more concerned with its own ilk?  

The rich States of Haryana and Punjab have the highest rates of female foeticide. On the Noida expressway last year, a father pleaded with passersby for help after his wife and a baby were fatally injured in an accident. Nobody came forward for twenty helpless minutes as vehicles zoomed by. A similar and more tragic case was reported from China recently. I cannot imagine this happening in Bastar or a village in North Karnataka.

I remember having read an article in Geo magazine on the Nazi crimes. The author writes that what is shocking is not how a crazy dictator like Hitler became the premier of Germany. History has often thrown up such freaks. What is inexplicable though is how the ordinary citizens of Germany-young and old, women, mothers, sisters and brothers-unequivocally supported his each and every action. It is a different matter that the then victims (Jews-again a prosperous community) are the perpetrators of inhuman offences now in Palestine.

On similar lines, the USA becomes more hospitable for outsiders as it is a country of immigrants at heart and is a potpourri of disparate cultures whereas many Asians perceive Europe, perhaps with the exception of England, as a closed society which is cold and indifferent. But European countries top almost every parameter of human development index. Is it not anthropologically perplexing how human beings manage to fail the test of humaneness so often?