Trip to Indira Point

URL:http://www.thehindu.com/thehindu/yw/2005/09/09/stories/2005090902290200.htm

S. Balakrishnan 52 (New No. 7) C-1

Phone: R- 2472 61 26 'Gyan Trishul Flats'

O -2822 81 46 Sivan Kovil Street

e-mail: krishnanbala2004@yahoo.co.in

Kodambakkam Chennai - 600 024

Down memory lane:

A trip to Indira Point, 25 years back

A cute shell and a handful of beach sand in a glass jar occupy the pride of place in my showcase. Once a happy reminder of my dream visit to Indira Point, the Southernmost Tip of Indian soil, now they remind me of the devastating Tsunami of December 26, 2004, which has not only devoured that Land’s Tip but also the lives of the men and members of their families (in all 20) who were looking after the lighthouse there, besides a group of international scientists on a research visit there. I shudder even to imagine that the very place where I stood admiring sunset and sunrise has now subsided by 4.5 metres (almost 15 ft.)!

But then that was a quarter century ago. With the prevailing conditions then, it was a sort of an expedition for me to visit that destination.

Parsons Pygmalion Point - that was how the Point was known before it was renamed Indira Point after the visit of Smt. Indira Gandhi, the then Prime Minister, to that spot. Lying at 6° 45’ North Latitude at the foot of Great Nicobar Island, the southernmost Island of the Andaman & Nicobar group of islands, the Point is 2° 05’ further down than the much-celebrated Kanyakumari (8° 5’). The tip is just 91 miles away from Pulo Brase off Achin Head in Sumatra Island of Indonesia, or 144 km. away from Sumatra Island proper. From Port Blair, the capital town of the Island Territory, Indira Point is 300 nautical miles down south.

The three-day-long journey from Port Blair to the Campbell Bay Jetty of Great Nicobar Island - touching Car Nicobar (the district headquarters of Nicobar Group of Islands), Nancowry (an excellent natural harbour) and other islands on the way - cost me just Rs. 39.40 (bunk class without boarding)! When people heard of my ‘crazy’ plan to visit the Point, it was discouragement of all sorts by persons who had never even considered visiting that unique place.

My first aim was to reach Shastri Nagar, 35 km. from Campbell Bay. It was the southernmost civilized inhabitation of India where ex-servicemen settlers had been provided temporary accommodation before they could construct their own house and move in. The bus journey from ‘0’ km. (Campbell Bay) to Shastri Nagar was an amusing one. As the bus had to cross many wooden bridges on the way, which would not bear the weight of the passengers also, the passengers were offloaded before the bridges. After crossing over, it was a mad scramble to conquer their respective seats! I still remember a wedding taking place in one of the villages (probably at the 18^th Km. – people preferred ‘kilometer-names’ to the newly-given ‘Nagar-names’), which was the ‘talk of the Island’. Many of the passengers got down there to attend the wedding, and both the bus driver and conductor enjoyed a hearty feast amidst the blaring of a record player, before resuming the journey.

The North-South Trunk Road ran almost parallel to the seashore, passing through beautiful wayside villages of the adventurous ex-servicemen settlers. They had been drawn from the different states of mainland India with a multi-purpose idea of giving them a new life and at the same time manning the strategically situated remote islands and developing them side-by-side. So to say, to safeguard the motherland even after retirement! Their humble hutments with the wild jungle and their rich green fields and plantations as the background presented a perfect picture postcard look. It is saddening to learn that besides taking the lives of many of these settlers, the fruits of years of their hard work in an entirely new and peculiar environment had also been washed away by the tsunami.

I was hungry when the bus reached 35 km. (Shastri Nagar) at 1 P.M. I had a hearty lunch at the only hotel there - ‘the southernmost eatery of India’ - for Rs. 2.50. I got myself introduced to some ex-servicemen settlers and a few personnel of RRO (Reclamation & Rehabilitation Organisation), who were only too happy to meet an alien’ and readily agreed to render all assistance for my expedition to the ‘god-forsaken point’. Balaiah and Veeraiah, two non-settlers and in their 20s, were chosen as my escorts. With everything fixed, I was so exited that even the dry rottis of the RRO mess tasted quite delicious, and it was all dreams and no sleep that night.

It was 7 A.M. sharp, Wednesday the 25^th April 1979, when we started trekking. After walking for a while on the trunk road, we took a shortcut, which would save us five miles of walk, my guides assured. Sweating and panting, after half an hour’s climb through a steep, narrow and rugged path, we again touched the blacktopped road. Another two hours walk brought us before a board put up by Project Yatrik, which warned, “STOP. CROCS CROSSING. CROCS BURROW”. It was the end of the 40.700 km.-long North-South Trunk-road. We were at Galathea basin.

River Galathea is one among the five perennial rivers, all of which are found only in the Great Nicobar Island. She courses through 40 km. from Mt. Thullier range to the Indian Ocean. Her width ranges from 25 ft. to 100 ft. and depth, 15 to 20 ft. She is navigable 30 km. upwards from the mouth. Though she wore a deceptive look of a calm and smooth- flowing river, I realized her force even as we waded across during low tide, after waiting for 3 ½ hours. (Later, a bridge has been constructed, I understand.)

Our next point of halt was Chingen hamlet, a cluster of five huts of the Nicobari tribal. We quenched our thirst with tender coconuts @ Rs. 1/- My escorts shared among themselves a whole bottle of toddy for Rs. 3/- We continued to trudge through the jungle path, avoiding the roundabout beach route, as we had to reach the Point before sunset. We came across some men who were clearing the forest for an airstrip. Munching the abundantly growing wild betel (paan) leaves, we proceeded ahead.

As I stood on the beach, with the gentle waves lapping at my feet, it was 5.20 PM. It was a brilliant sunset, a mesmerizing moment. It was so serene and silent that I even felt a bit scared. To believe in myself that I was really at the Land’s Tip, I put into my mouth a pinch of the beach sand and drank a few drops of the seawater. Overwhelmed, two drops of my tear mingled with the mighty ocean water.

A few employees of the Lighthouses Department, along with their family members, including infants (Believe me!), were living in that remotest edge of the remotest island, 51 kms. away from any sort of basic amenities. I could not help admiring their tenacity to live in such an out-of-the ordinary place to eke out a living. No electricity, no tap water, no doctor and no school. If at all they had a transistor radio, it was their only mode of keeping in touch with the outside world. Out of the provisions we carried with us, the men prepared stew for us. I washed it down with water, as it was neither sufficient for the three of us nor tasty. As there was no electricity and nothing to do, we went to bed by 6.30 PM itself, as darkness had swooped on the area by 6 PM itself. Being 1,200 kms. East of mainland India, there is a time difference of one hour. We slept on the open verandah, just 200 metres away from the ocean, in peace with Mother Nature. As if to bless me, there was a light drizzle in the midnight.

The dawn found me at the beachfront by 4 AM. The roaring ocean, buzzing breeze, chirping birds and rustling flora – it was tranquil Nature all around. Intoxicated with the beauty of the place and foolishly gazing at the southern side, mistaking it for east, I completely missed viewing the sunrise!

The view from atop the lighthouse lifted my spirits. A marvelous blue ocean on one side and lush forest in different shades of green on the other, with a clear blue sky spread over. As there was no gas supply, the light was not functioning. A wooden plaque announced that the lighthouse was inaugurated by the then Vice-President, Mr. Pathak, in 1973. The men told me that construction work had started way back in 1969 itself. It is situated in the South Bay of the area.

As we climbed down, the men were gracious to share their morning tea with us. Before they left for a hunting expedition into the forests along with their dogs, I took a snap of them at the base of the lighthouse. Thanking them sincerely for all their help and secretly admiring them, I left Parsons Pygmalion Point, leaving my heart there and carrying a cute shell and a handful of beach sand. I must admit I was even jealous of them – to live in the lap of Mother Nature and to get paid for it too! It was 7 AM, the same time we had left Shastri Nagar the previous day.

As we had ample time and were neither in a hurry to return to the hustle-bustle of the so-called civilized society, we took the roundabout foreshore path on our return journey. On the way, we saw a ship wreck, a rusted piece of which is still in my collection. We rested for a while in the settlement of the labourers clearing the forest, who were too happy to share their chukka rotti and black tea with us. Indian hospitality thrives even in the remotest and deepest jungles! As we walked on, we came to the Chingen hamlet of the Nicobari tribal. Balaiah and Veeriah bought two toddy bottles (at my cost). Though the pungent smell was just unbearable for me, I had to literally grin and bear it and them. There I picked up a piece of the hard outer skin of the Pandanus fruit, the staple food of the Nicobarese, which can be pierced open only with an axe. It looked like a brush, and my escorts-cum-guides told me that the Nicobarese use them as bathing brush.

As we reached River Galathea, she was flowing in her full might. Maybe it had rained in the catchment areas. After waiting for the low tide to set in, we crossed her on a dinghy (small country boat), which whirled once violently in the midstream. My expert guides managed the situation tactfully and we landed safely on the other bank in one piece, without falling prey to the hungry crocodiles or the mighty ocean. As we proceeded towards Shastri Nagar, we came across gangs of naughty Nicobar Macaque monkeys, which had plundered and squandered almost all the coconuts in the trees. I also noticed squirrels, which did not have the legendary three stripes on their back (said to have been caused by the gentle patting of Lord Sri Rama in appreciation of a squirrel’s help to Him in the construction of a bridge across Sethu Canal to cross over to Sri Lanka).

By 3.15 PM, we were barging into the tiny restaurant at Shastri Nagar. Starved of a good meal for almost a whole day, we stuffed in whatever was available. After a refreshing bath, I took photographs of all those kind souls who helped me reach my enamoured destination – the Land’s Tip.

It is saddening that many of those kind and helping souls both at Shastri Nagar and Indira Point could be living only in my photographs because the destructive Tsunami of December 26 2004 has not left any trace of them, not even their pucca houses!

-/-

S. Balakrishnan

Phone: R- 2472 61

e-mail: krishnanbala2004@yahoo.co.in Chennai - 600 024