IN AND AROUND PORT BLAIR-II - ZorbaBooks

IN AND AROUND PORT BLAIR-II

IN AND AROUND PORT BLAIR

ANDAMAN- Nov 8th

A new day, a new taxi, a new taxi driver. Ramanathan Pugal. Middle-aged, more mature, calmer, a professional. Yesterday’s misadventures seem done and dusted with.

And so, the sightseeing continues and Andaman keeps unraveling itself.

SIGHTSEEING

It’s off to the Anthropological Museum. Spread over 3 floors, the museum is all about the different tribal ethnicities from the world over. The smart Nepalese guards from the Nepal Guard Company guide the visitors. Outside a huge boat is being constructed as part of the museum’s cultural objects. The craftsmen working on it belong to the Shompen tribal community from Nicobar. This Mongoloid origin tribe can almost be mistaken for Thai nationality. 

Pugal, all punctual and courteous moves on to Samudrika, the Naval Marine Museum. The museum houses rooms dedicated to sea shells, corals, a photo history of tribes, geographical history, and mythologies connected to the islands. The cool air-conditioned rooms are a pleasant welcome from the muggy exteriors.

It will rain soon. The clouds are heavy with droplets. But experience tells that they will surely not break open before the sultry humidity envelops all. That is their way of saying ‘value us’. Nevertheless, despite the heat and sultriness a beeline is made for the pleasant Naval Mermaid in the middle of the garden. She acts as a crown to a small fountain and is the centre of all attention.

A WORLD OF ITS OWN

Chatham Saw Mill across the connecting bridge is on a neighbouring island, connected through a bridge. The tall gate opens to this 19th-century colonial sawmill. Huge logs of wood are neatly stacked one on top of the other. Tin shed huts of yesteryear now act as offices, museums, and memorials. A small rail track and a mini engine which is still used to transport wood, speak of a bygone era, a world now only watched in the movies or read in books by most city folk. Japanese bunkers and bomb pits, however, harshly bring back the horrors of World War 2.

The roads are by now wet with rain. The pragmatic visitors open their umbrellas and continue the idyllic walk around the premise, the others take shelter wherever available. A slow walk up the small hill on a slippery path is worth it. The pathway ends at a two-storey wooden building, the Director’s Office. In the adjacent parking area, along with 2 SUVs sit all curled up a couple of cats, unconcerned by all that is going around. The steep precipice at one end gives an impression of a height more than what it is. Rain droplets fall on the wild grass, leaves, and flowers. A couple of free-roaming deers, unperturbed by the rain munch along the leaves, their strong hooves protecting them from a fall.

“I will drop you at Aberdeen Bazaar and return after lunch”, announces Pugal. He has won the trust by now. If he says he will return, so he will. A short walk up and down the hill market completes the recce. Lulu Mall, Jewellery shops, Regional Office of the BSP, complete with a huge poster of Behenji, Milan Bakers, Shyam Socks, Rehmat Juice corner, Aberdeen has it all. Aberdeen is also a popular spot for local handicrafts, souvenirs, and gifts. 

Incessant drizzle enhances the fun. It’s coffee time at a local café. What better way to beat the chill? A group of friends is enjoying sinful fudges, brownies, and chocolate shakes served in tall glasses and topped with red-glazed cherries. Envy galore. Oh! To be young and carefree.

The rains stop as suddenly as they had begun. Pugal is waiting at the decided-on junction, his lunch packed and bundled in the boot of the car. “Let’s go” he announces.

Chidiya Tapu beckons.

AN ALMOST UNBELIEVABLE AFTERNOON

White sands glistening in the sun ( the rain’s vanished again), a walk into the water, dark mangroves and green mountains half covered in mist and clouds, Chidiya Tapu abounds in beauty, mystery, charm, and novelty, like none other ever. Almost like a scene from The Hunger Games or The Beach. Take your pick.

A brief rest in the Eco hut, a kaccha aam salad, ginger tea, narial paani ( yes, all mixed up ), and jhalmuri later, it’s off to a drive through the famed sunset point and on to Beach No 2, a.k.a.; Corbyn Cove.

Corbyn Cove, unlike Chidiya Tapu, is a long beach. As the waves lash to the land, emitting a swish sound, so therapeutic and mysterious at the same time, crowds stand and watch the sunset for the day. It is 4:52 pm. The sky casually turns golden, the water, dark. Orange gold ripples in the water of the eventide shine like jewels at an ornament store. The sun blends with the sea as if that is where it has gone to rest. The beach shops light up with a hundred bulbs. Boiled corn is the favourite go-to dish, though others vie for space too.

As the sky darkens, the authorities get into action. “Yellow dress madam, paani se bahar aayiye”, “ black dress madam, kya kar raheen hain? Paani me mat jayeye.” “Gulabi shorts ke sir, apne bacche ko bachaiye.” And so the invisible eye continues with the

announcements.

In the midst of all this, the rain gods come back into action. The evening turns a tad bit chilly. A shawl would have done wonders. But, beach lovers do not get deterred. The party continues for most.

Pugal drives along. Thick dense forests become thicker and denser. Mangroves look darker, and the road, narrower. But a hot coffee pot at Sinclair’s Bay View brings immediate relief. The white foam of the waves as they hit the narrow, sandy beach looks like a million pearls in the dark of the night. Far away, on the horizon, brightly lit ships gently float, some off to faraway lands.

The New Lighthouse Restaurant coaxes once again. With a touch of local panache, the professional-looking server welcomes like a long-lost brother. The dishes ordered are different from yesterday, but the best dinner in the world gets enjoyed again. Paan, the favourite after-dinner treat winds up the evening.

Pugal instructs “ I will report tomorrow at 3:00 am. Please be ready.” After all, to report at 3:00, he has to wake up at 2:00 am and take a hot water bath. He doubly makes sure that the game is on. He has got let down previously. “It was a different hotel”, he recalls, philosophically. “Madam said she will go. But when I reached there at 2:30 am, Madam said Pugal, rehene do.” He shakes himself as if to let go of the disappointment from not so long ago and looks in the eye with a face so sad. “I lost out on money and sleep that day. And my electricity bill went up. You see I had left the geyser switch on before sleeping.”

Adequate assurances get given. Pugal will not get betrayed this time over.

It’s a visit to the Jarawa land in the morrow.”

                                      

————————————————-

Leave a Reply

gitanjali khanduri