A malady worse than cancer has gripped the old & new generation living in the hills. Some time back a feature had been published in your daily titled: “Plight of Women in Uttarakhand”. In that article, Bhagati Devi accidentally cut her leg with a sickle. Her young husband had to rush to the village to bring her to Srinagar for treatment. This time I write about this young man in particular & all other peasants in general to reveal the rot that has set in the lives of these erstwhile simple people.

Balam Singh, name changed, was summoned back to the village from Doon to help his father till the land measuring about 55 Nalis scattered over a wide area. His father was in the Army & pestered the Commanding Officer for voluntary discharge after earning pension able service. He did not alter his resolve even after sage counsel. After retirement his only son, Balam Singh was born. Had he been in the Army he would have been compelled to record it by means of an “order”. In the village he did not deem it necessary only to sow the seed of an impending tragedy that followed. Soon the wife died & Balam Singh was raised by the aged grandmother.

Balam Singh’s father was dim witted & delightfully gullible for the wily counterparts in the village. They methodically nurtured his foolish ego & in turn were rewarded with a perennial supply of tea & hours of gossip in his house. This lifestyle rendered his pecuniary condition critical. Still, ends were being met though with great hardship. His aged mother tilled the land, & still does, to eke out living, growing vegetables. Meanwhile he lazed about subsisting on his meager pension.

One day, a “bosom” friend took a loan from the local bank while Balam’s father stood as guarantor. As expected, his friend went to some town or city & never returned. His pension was attached for repayment of the loan. Now he was poorer than the proverbial church mouse. This did not alter his life style. The tea kettle was always full to quench the insatiable propensity of the peasants to sip tea. How did he manage? Well he took rations & money on loan & soon became heavily indebted. He proudly but foolishly warned his son that the latter would make good his debt throughout his life!

While children normally grow up, Balam tumbled up & despite this, grew to be a sprightly young man. Predictably, the father took Balam for enrolment only to find that his son was short of pipping the desired height by 2 cms. Balam tried again & again only to be told that he was too short. Only if he was a son of an Ex-Serviceman could he avail a 2 cms concession. Still wisdom did not dawn on his father. Much later he went to Lansdowne & got the needful order published. By then it was too late. The Army had raised the physical height further as a result of which Balam was now 4 cms short. (Apparently it seems that the Army discovered that taller men make better soldiers than shorter ones & that indisputably they look better. Twisting the logic further, they would assume that in hindsight taller & better looking soldiers would have performed far better than 2 cms shorter ones in WW I & II!) All hopes for Balam Singh to join Army vanished. He still had hope. His father owned some land in the village at a potentially commercial area where a road had been developed. He could open a shop there & do good business.

Balam Singh was dismayed to learn that his father had sold of this piece of lucrative land. With this, whatever hope he had to fend for himself vanished. At this stage the evils of new culture prevalent in the hills overtook him. His peer group gathered around him & accentuated Balam’s frustration. These gatherings were always accompanied by drinking bouts & useless rambling over their collective despondency.

Alcoholism is the Achilles’ heel of all hill people. Earlier the only source was the monthly quota from the Canteen. Now a new development had taken place. Cheap & readily available labor in the form of Nepalese had made their indelible presence in the remote areas of the hills. Their technology of making cheap hooch was quickly mastered by the locals. Every enterprising household was preparing this heady brew, packing it in polybags & using young children as couriers, often their own, to deliver the same to the market place. The reward for the children - two toffees or biscuits! With this system in vogue, the rot spread from the very impressionable age of the children. The illegal distillers of hooch encourage the women & children to become addicts. Shocking? Wait till you read the next lines.

The liquor is made under highly unhygienic conditions. In order to hasten the process & ensure a good “kick,” some shocking ingredients are added that will assure death in a matter of months. One deadly ingredient is Urea. The other is the use of the carbon rod of dry cells, which are ground & added to the mixture. Often the brew is consumed even before it has cooled down. Such cottage industry is flourishing. A young boy once revealed to the author that he too had procured the containers & tools to start making liquor but soon abandoned it. All this is shocking revelation. The prior evening Balam Singh had consumed such concoction & was found cold & lifeless next morning. He leaves behind a young childless widow, a father neck deep in debt, & a 90 odd year old grandmother who tends the vegetable patch & cooks for her good-for-nothing-retired son.

Life in the hills is tough for any hill dweller. Here, in Uttarakhand, men are often seen sitting idly gossiping & smoking. Women literally kill themselves with work. Disco dancing during marriages is keenly looked forward to. Every marriage, as in Doon, is a three day affair. The fare on all days is the same – meat & liquor. However the occasions are different. The first day is “Cocktail Party”; the second is “Baraat”; & the penultimate day is “At Home”. Are you reading this Mr. George Bush? We in the hills are not far behind you & could have given you some ideas on how to blow up scarce money on useless avoidable marriage ceremonies. When the author tells some literate men to mend their ways, they find the suggestion ridiculous – “What will others say if we don’t have a three day ceremony & that too without liquor & meat?” they say. They are convinced that the author has gone bonkers!

Most of the youth cheat in the exams. Attending school is a big farce. There is no vocational training & there are no jobs. In the plains they have to compete with more sturdy & aggressive youth of other states. They travel from town to town, city to city, hoping they will make it big one day working under a “Sethji”. Dreams remain dreams. With them their young brides, left back in the village, are doomed & so is the fate of the hill districts of Uttarakhand. No one can help. The locals have to help themselves. The million dollar question is – WILL THEY?

Comments

Comments

Some time back we had learnt about a truly outstanding soldier who hailed from Village Haida Kholi, near Satpuli, not far from Lansdowne. He was Laat Subedar Balbhadra Singh Negi. Last month I was fortunate to meet the son of another Garhwali soldier whose feat must be revealed so that many more unsung heroes like Keshar Singh are given due recognition. This is the tale as narrated by his son Lt Col (retired) Surender Singh Chaudhari.

This is the story of Keshar Singh Chaudhari. He was born in village Ladoli, Kirsal, in District Chamoli of Uttarakhand. Like many other brave young men he went on to join the 3rd Battalion, 18 Royal Garhwal Rifles. Significantly, this battalion was destined to sail to East Africa to inaugurate the first Allied victory in this theatre & that too under the command of Brig (later Field Marshal) W Slim.

With the declaration of war on 3 September 1939, 3rd Battalion, 18 Royal Garhwal Rifles moved to Jhansi in October as part of 10 Infantry Brigade commanded by Brigadier W Slim MC, under 5 Infantry Division. The battalion disembarked at Port Sudan on 24 September 1940 & proceeded to Haiya Camp & thence to Gederaf, the Headquarter of Sudan Defense Force. Here they dug defenses & commenced training. 10 Brigade Headquarters was located a few miles short of Galabat. 4th Battalion 10th Baluch Regiment held position a mile ahead of the brigade headquarters. The third battalion of the brigade was the Essex Regiment.

Galabat was a formidable fortress, held by the Italians, situated on the Sudan-Abyssinian border. The Italians had captured this fortress from the Sudan Defense Force on the outbreak of war. Under the Italians it had been further fortified & was quite like similar positions the British troops had confronted in Afghanistan – covering approximately 300 square yards atop a barren rocky hill offering an excellent defensive position.

A surprise attack was staged to recapture Galabat. William “Bill” Slim’s 10th Infantry Brigade of the Indian 5th Infantry Division was accompanied by a squadron of 12 medium and light tanks, a field regiment of artillery, and supported by the RAF.

On 6 November 1940, the Garhwalis commenced the assault on Galabat supported by tanks. Delta Company led the assault across a minefield facing heavy machine gun fire & succeeded in silencing the guns. Charlie Company pressed home the attack, made a gap in the wire obstacle while tanks maneuvered to the rear of the enemy. Significantly, Jemadar Keshar Singh was the leading Platoon Commander in this attack by Charlie Company. Under Lt Col SE Taylor’s inspiring leadership & valor, the fort was captured. (Lt Col SE Taylor was immediately behind the leading section commander, the author’s father, attacking Galabat).

While the majority of Italian troops fled, two Italian officers were taken PW. (Lt Col SE Taylor DSO later died in the battle for Sanchil, once again leading from the front manifesting his characteristic bravado for which he had often been chastised by Major SK Murray)

Garhwali veterans of this theatre were & are known to the author & it must be admitted that these men were made of different mettle than their counterparts of today. (The author’s father, a veteran of this war, lives on to narrate the tales with vivid clarity). They narrated graphic tales of their personal experiences fighting “the white man’s battle against other white men” in a totally alien & hostile country. They recall with pride that they laid the foundation of the Allied victory in East Africa.

Keshar Singh was a Jemadar at that time & was part of the attack on Galabat. As usual the attack had to contend with the formidable minefields, machine gun, mortar & artillery fire, & enemy air bombardment. The veteran soldiers held the Italian mortars in high esteem because of their speedy & devastatingly accurate counter mortar fire. Consequently the attacking troops had to quickly redeploy themselves after having frantically prepared safe dugouts, cursing the British officers for ordering the move from the seemingly safe dugouts only to bless them later for taking that decision. (In such situations there was one incident that the author can scarcely resist narrating. After capturing Galabat, the author’s father & men of his section selected a seemingly safe crater to take cover from the expected Italian counter bombardment. Just then the Essex Regiment of British soldiers moved up & shooed them away to go elsewhere & occupied the crater. In the ensuing shelling a shell fell plumb into it & killed all of them! Such things do happen in war.)

Jemadar Keshar Singh survived a minefield injury that he sustained in Galabat shortly after cautioning men of his platoon about the threat of Italian mines! It is not known when this Brigade faced its first setback; when & how Garhwali soldiers were taken captive. In the ensuing setbacks & successes the Allied troops fell captive to the Italians as did the Italians themselves. In one of these occasions Keshar Singh became a POW – whether of the Germans or Italians is not known. This was the end of Keshar Singh’s role in the battle against the Axis powers. However he continued to show those sterling qualities of a soldier even in captivity.

Officially Keshar Singh was declared missing during Dec 1940. This was communicated to his family by a letter. His family members lost no hope & awaited happy tidings till one year. After this long wait they assumed that he was dead. Accordingly his last rites were performed. Keshar Singh’s son was four years old. Both mother & son endured a life of deprivation till 4 May 1945.

On 4 May 1945 Keshar Singh’s wife received a letter written by him from MH Chandigarh. He was wounded & would soon reach home. As expected & customary, this blessing of his home-coming was attributed to Lord Badrinathji. On 10 May 1945 Keshar Singh arrived at the village amidst unprecedented jubilation. The dead had come alive! It was nothing short of a miracle. A ceremony to mark his re-birth & re-marriage was performed.

Naturally everyone was eager to hear about his travails after being declared missing. He came out with a startling revelation. He had escaped from an Italian PW camp in Italy. His only companion in the Great Escape was none other than the late Chief of the Army Staff – General PP Kumaramangalam! Much later, on the occasion of becoming the Army Chief he invited Subedar Keshar Singh, by then retired, to Delhi. What a great occasion that must have been! Little is known about what transpired between the two. One expects some account of the duo’s travails from the Italian PW camp to India in memoirs of the General.

During the II World War, East Africa was witness to rising & falling fortunes for the adversaries. In August 1940, Italians had successfully wrested control of the region from the British. The British Garrison of Berbera was besieged. Two Australian ships, including HMAS Hobart evacuated 7000 besieged troops. The most significant feature of this operation was that three Australians engaged in rescue operations became Australia’s first prisoners of the Italians. Later, as Italian fortunes rose, British troops taken prisoners found themselves lodged in the some camps that were prepared by the British for the expected Italian prisoners!

As the tide turned in favor of the Allied Forces the POWs were moved rearwards till they were finally lodged in Italy after suffering privations, hunger, unhygienic conditions & often torture. Keshar narrated to his kin that the Italians lodged prisoners in nine concentric circles. The innermost was for the most troublesome prisoners who were stamped as ‘Turbulenti’- those with history of attempted escape & evasion. Accordingly the ones in the outermost circle were trusted not to attempt escape or mutiny. One’s status in the prison was subject to one’s conduct. In one such prison Keshar Singh impressed Major PP Kumaramangalam. The latter was the Adjutant at the camp & took Keshar Singh as his Jemadar Adjutant. They remained together as prisoners in the same PW camp. In the camp, the Italians relied upon British Officers to exercise control over the prisoners. They were referred to as SBOs (Senior British Officers). Apparently Major PP Kumaramangalam, on who was conferred the DSO while a prisoner was deputed as SBO but not before proving his credentials. Keshar Singh narrated that the two worked their way from the tight inner circles to the outermost in order to put their plan into action.

At an opportune moment at night the two slipped out & made good their escape on a motor cycle. The two were discovered fleeing on the motor cycle & were fired upon resulting in a bullet injury sustained by Keshar Singh. The two evaded capture & commenced an arduous journey along the northern shore of the Mediterranean Sea, to cross over to Asia Minor & finally reached India. On one occasion they had to cross a formidable river. They used their wet air-filled-pajamas to keep themselves afloat & swam across. During the escape they hid themselves during the day & moved during night. Apparently Major Kumaramangalam became captive after two weeks & was lodged once again in a PW camp – this time in Germany. Six months later Keshar Singh was back in India. On arrival in India he was kept under custody for interrogation till finally cleared & ordered back to service. According to Keshar Singh, Major Kumaramangalam too had returned to India while Keshar Singh’s role after he was declared missing was under scrutiny. Both were promoted – Major Kumaramangalam to the rank of Brigadier & Jemadar Keshar Singh to the rank of Subedar.

One would like to know if anyone has recorded a detailed account of the Great Escape of these two soldiers. The endeavor of the author is twofold. Firstly, invite more details about the capture, life in the PW camps, treatment of Indian soldiers (treated worse than that of the European soldiers); escape plan, assistance by locals en route, & survival of the two heroes would be most welcome from any quarter. Secondly, the Kumaramangalam family could arrange a meeting with the family members of Keshar Singh. Keshar Singh’s son recalls that his father did speak about the subject, but only after he had taken his daily “dram”! Keshar Singh mentioned about some Muslim officer of the British Indian army who, a heavy smoker, often smoked Keshar Singh's quota of cigarettes too! This officer later went on to become a General in the Pakistan army! Perhaps detailed research could be carried out by serious scholars to record authentic details of the outstanding feat of this duo.

(A similar tale of escape from a PW camp, narrated but not recorded, by late Chattar Singh of the same battalion, resident of Chamba, Tehri Garhwal should have been preserved in our historical records. Chattar Singh was an amputee having lost a leg. He lived long after regaling one & all by ticking off senior army & civil officers including our revered friend late Commissioner SC Singha!)

No. 8964 – IO Subedar Keshar Singh Chaudhari was the son of Kaliyan Singh Chaudhari. He retired in 1948. His had five sons continued with the tradition of serving in the Army. They are:-
Hav/ VM Narender Singh Chaudhari
Lt Col SS Chaudhari
SM/Clk/Hony Capt BS Chaudhari
Subedar RS Chaudhari
Hav Kunwar Singh Chaudhari

Some of the soldiers who were in Jemadar Keshar Singh’s platoon are as follows:-
(a) Platoon Headquarters
Havildar Dharam Singh
Naik Umrao Singh
Rifleman Narain Singh
(b) Leading Section
Naik Inder Singh Rawat (Retired Lt Col IS Rawat KC)
Rifleman Inder Singh Rawat, IDSM
Rifleman (Cobbler) Dalbir Sarki, IDSM
Rifleman Sher Singh
Others eminent soldiers who were in the Galabat Battle with Jemadar Keshar Singh are:-

Jemadar Rithu Singh Rawat, IDSM, IOM (Retd Hony Capt)
Jemadar Ram Singh, MC
Jemadar Inder Singh Negi, Int Section, (Retd Hony Capt)
Naik Balam Singh Negi, Int Section (Retd Major)
Naik RCS Gusain, Int Section, (Retd Lt Col)
Naik Ram Singh Negi, Int Section, (Retd Lt Col from 3/3 GR)
Naik Kundan Singh Negi, MMG Platoon
Rfn Dhan SinghNegi, Posthumous
Rfn Bagh Singh, Posthumous

Another feature of Galabat Battle worth recording was that three brothers, of village Bangali, Dhaijuli, Pauri Garhwal, together were in the battlefield. They were:-
Warrant Officer Dalip Singh Negi, RIASC (Retd Major 1/3 GR)
Naik Ram Singh Negi, (Retd Lt Col 3/3 GR)
Rfn Dhan Singh Negi, (Posthumous)

.

Comments

Comments

Bhutan is a country still wrapped in nature’s cloak in almost every way. It’s impossible to describe its splendor in such limited space. The foliage of trees, covering the entire expanse as far as the eye can see is lush & thick covering almost the entire mountain range from the foothills to the tree line above which lie the summer pastures & snow covered peaks. Rarely can one see open bare patches while journeying from Phuntsoling to Thimphu, Paro or Ha. The view beyond the Himalayan watershed is that of a vast grassy Tibetan plateau, gently sloping away northwards.

Above the tree line there are vast open pastures owned solely by the powerful Dorjees of western Bhutan. Each individually owned grazing ground may be as large as the whole of Mussoorie, where the entire herds of Yak graze on the alpine vegetation, the like of which obtains in our very own Valley of Flowers. Locals of Tibetan stock are the Yak herds. Slaughter of this animal is the task of these people. The tender meat is cut into long strips & left to hang & dry. Once dry it can be eaten raw even by infants. The Yak hair is braided to make tents, headgear, upper portion of shoes, while the skin is converted into shoes. Construction of local houses, a collective social responsibility, is accompanied by singing, feasting & drinking of the heady Chhaang or rice beer. The entire double storied house is made solely of clayey soil & wood. No iron or steel is used – even in the doors. The earth for the thick wall is packed tight with the feet amidst rhythmic chanting the whole day long. The finished house is spacious, warm, waterproof & earthquake-proof. Thus nature has provided for them in every way.

A Snow Leopard Sighted
With stringent laws against hunting & fishing, Bhutan abounds in a variety of fauna. Once I was rewarded with a magnificent sight of a rare snow leopard while negotiating a high altitude mountain pass. It was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen in its natural habitat. On seeing us it neither bolted nor balked. It merely gave us a side glance & leisurely ambled along without changing the direction it was going. I recall the words of a Kashmiri fur trader’s words many years back. He described the leopards as, “Khuda ka karishma! (God’s miracle)” Having seen it amidst patches of snow, meadows & alpine vegetation at this altitude I fully appreciate his powerful & apt description. Why do I term this sighting as rare? While in Bhutan I was browsing through a book written on the snow leopard. The author traveled to the upper reaches of Nepal to do precisely that & had to return failing to have sighted one! However he churned out a voluminous book on this elusive & endangered animal.

Friends of the Angle
The rivers of Bhutan, in the upper reaches, were teaming with another marvelous & highly sought after creature – the Brown Trout. Its lineage can be traced to the chalk streams of Scotland. One rare issue of the wonderful magazine “Field & Stream” carried a gem of an article on this. It revealed that a Scot was in Kashmir for trading in carpets. Seeing the suitability of Srinagar’s climate & the chalk fed streams, he undertook a successful mission to bring trout fingerlings by ship to Bombay, thence by train to Pathankot, thence by road via Abbotabad, Muzaffarabad to his bungalow in Srinagar. In his sprawling verandah he laid a series of wooden vats to allow flow of water by gravity. To ensure the desired continuous flow of fresh water, he “employed a bucket brigade of coolies”. This Brown Trout survived & was later released into the popular trout streams of Srinagar. A good deal has been written in the article about one Mr. Maqbool Butt who was the caretaker or warden. Rules were strictly enforced. The catch was restricted to five or six trout not less than a specified length. He is reported to have hauled up a few anglers from the West & several from Delhi & Bombay, which implies impounding of the angling equipment, fine & cancellation of permit. Only fly fishing was allowed. Spinning was a sin - akin to cold-blooded murder in broad daylight.

With that prelude, one can trace the journey of this trout from Srinagar to Sikkim, thanks to the Chogyal. Sikkim boasts of an excellent stock of Brown Trout in its high altitude lakes, the foremost being Manmoichu followed by Yakla & Chhangu. The footpath to Manmoichu is lined with an array of Rhododendron shrubs. At the end of the trek is a hatchery – a series of concrete tanks, for trout of varying age, from where they are released into the huge lake. It was from Sikkim, it is believed, that the King of Bhutan took the fingerlings to the streams & rivers of his kingdom. Angling was permitted once in a cycle of two years. This way the streams were abundantly stocked with fish. Lately, I learnt that all the trout in Bhutan has perished! I wonder how?

To continue with the stupendous work done by this man from Scotland, Chogyal of Sikkim, & the King of Bhutan, I too tried to contribute in a very small way by releasing trout, obtained from Srinagar’s hatchery, into a lake near Bod Bangas, as well as into the river that flows past Naugam in the Baramula sector of Srinagar.

Small Wonders
While in Bhutan I saw some amazing sights. During a patrol into the upper reaches of western Bhutan, literally under the shadow of Chomolhari, we came across a herd of mountain goats. There was no habitation till two days’ march. The locals accompanying me asked me to shoot one. Obviously, I declined & I am glad to I took that decision. At the end of this day I couldn’t resist deviating from the easy path along the valley to climb on the ridge that overlooked the Tibetan plateau I mentioned earlier. It was an exhilarating sight but the fierce cold wind that prevailed did not allow us to stay longer, as it was getting ominously fiercer by the minute, threatening to rip off our clothes. We retraced our steps back to our planned route to begin our ascent to the pass to descend to the Paro valley & lost our way. In a frantic search, a local porter exclaimed that we were indeed on the right track. In fact there was no track at all. When asked about the proof of this amazing conclusion, he pointed at the ice in the re-entrant where, in warm weather a stream flowed. There was nothing unusual about the ice except that from one end the ice had just started melting & trickling downstream – something quite natural. However our Man Friday claimed that in Bhutan this was a good sign - a good omen & therefore, he claimed, it was the right way to hurtle downhill. Who can argue against such steadfast conviction – that too in alien turf? After some difficult & trying hours, we were indeed on a comfortable route to the valley below.

Happy to have descended to the upper reaches of Paro valley, way north of Dukhye Dzong, we rested astride a stream. Shortly afterwards, a Bhutanese family, apparently headed upstream, came & halted not far from where we rested. The men lit a fire & once it was raging hot, they picked up two large stones & placed them inside it. They then went to the stream & brought water to a huge tree trunk that had been hollowed out to form a small tub. They filled it with water. The stones in the fire were removed & with the help of a thick part of their garment, they lifted each one & dropped them into the improvised tub. Viola! The chilled water of the tub was steaming hot. Meanwhile one of the women undressed & sat in this tub to take a bath. Soon others too followed suit amazing us with their simplicity & ingenuity. At the end of it they doused the fire. Apparently this was a traditional site for halting to bathe the fatigued limbs of the mountain dwellers.

Dukhye Dzong
About an hour’s drive from Paro, is Dukhye Dzong. As one moves along the valley from Paro, the valley becomes narrower & narrower. At the same time the sides of the valley become steeper & steeper. I had heard that there was a monastery perched precariously atop sheer 1000 feet vertical cliff. So, I sought permission to do so & was luckily granted it. On arriving at Dukhye Dzong road-head, one has to gaze at the northern slopes that rise steeply forming a vertical rock face which at places is concave! Just strain your neck a little more, backwards please. Above all this is a huge monastery – Taksang Gompa. Those afflicted by vertigo may end their journey here & meet me later. Beyond & above Taksang Gompa the tree line ends & I was told that there was another monastery higher up. I will take you there too but first let’s climb up to Taksang Gompa. I had to go alone as my companion, my cousin, Biju Negi, had sprained his ankle. Not wanting to leave him alone for long, I promised him that I would be back in a jiffy. Biju gave me his camera to take along assuming that I was familiar with its operation. Leaving some tea & biscuits with him I left.

Assuming myself to be possessing unlimited stamina, I sprinted uphill till the gradient was good. This was contrary to the advice of a seasoned Mountaineer & Everester Mr. HCS Rawat who was at that time posted at Thimpu in the Indian Embassy, who advocated selecting a gradient no sharper than 30 degrees & a pace that does not strain one’s breath. Soon I was breathless yet I climbed at a furious pace. Almost at the top of the ascent I was pleased to see a small village. Here onwards the path became level but narrow. As I approached, what had looked like cliff from below, I saw the path further narrowed, adequate to allow on man to pass at a time. The worst was yet to come. The path suddenly disappeared around the rocky bend. Beyond, what I saw was a wide chasm, perhaps 300-400 yards wide! Had the path been swept away in landslide? There was no one nearby within ear-shot. (Soliloquy) Should I continue or turn back? I could always tell Biju that I went to the monastery but took no photographs! That would be most disappointing. But, “Is this a dead end I see before me, with the deep open chasm beckoning me? Come let me see thee. I see thee not. Yet I see thee still. Am I a victim of a heat-oppressed brain?” (Soliloquy ends). Finally, invoking Shakespeare, I continued with bated breath. A wrought iron railing was lining the path. Negotiating the blind hairpin bend was scary. I wondered how a pony could bend its body 90 degrees to go past it! A peep over the railing revealed a sheer cliff hundreds of feet beneath. The moment I negotiated the bend, I was blessed with the view of a massive structure of the Gompa, seemingly resting on a ledge. I still wonder how this place was chosen; how the material for it was taken up; how long it took to build; & how old it was. Inside, the Gompa was spacious & cool. Every place within seemed to invite me to sit & enjoy its cool ambience & fragrance of herbal incense - juniper. The Lama offered me water & some morsel to eat. I couldn’t spend as much time as I would have liked to. I had promised Biju an early return. My descent was a jog all the way.

I must mention here that while on my way up, I messed with the camera thereby exposing the entire colored reel to the sun. With that, all photographs of our trek from Ha to Chalai La – Paro – Dukhye Dzong & Taksang Gompa (as seen from the road below) were lost. Skeptics may take this an alibi for rendering no evidence. I sincerely apologize to the believers.

On another occasion I ventured beyond Taksang Gompa. The tree line is a short distance above the Gompa. Thereafter, the view is a grand feast for the beholder. The gradient is gentle; the entire hillside is covered with lush green grass & flowers including anemones; the air is crispy cool & the sky, if you are lucky is blue. Soon I came across yak grazing, a few clean shaven female monks working outside a small double storied house. I heard someone call out, “Hmmmm, Pacca sahib, Pacca sahib!” It came from a friendly round cherubic face quite akin to that of “The Laughing Buddha statues”. We were invited inside. A narrow wooden ladder took me to the first floor. I spoke no Bhutanese & he spoke no Hindi or English. Hence we got along reasonably well. Things got much better when he offered me his Guru’s blessing – it was milky white liquid. Why don’t I call it by its proper name? Well, it was Chhaang. Thereafter we communicated better- at least I did! After many last ones & not to forget “one for the road”, we bid a heart-breaking adieu the like of which one sees outside any pub. I trudged further beyond, a short distance to witness another majestic view.

We reached an open patch that commanded a glorious & unrestricted view of the entire Paro Valley. Who was that Greek or Roman who stood on a hill top & uttered something immortal? Will someone prompt me? Anyway, the cumulative effect of the brew & the view, rhyme unintended, was intoxicating. If you ever plan to visit Bhutan, don’t ever miss out on visiting Taksang Gompa & this commanding platform. (There is added attraction for tipplers!). A tip for the tourist – Look for an L shaped pony to take the final hairpin bend!

Ta Dzong
On the eastern slopes of Paro Valley, is an imposing monument. It is not as big as other Dzongs, yet it is very prominent, commanding the entire valley. It could have served as a fortress in the past. Today it is a museum displaying ancient coats of armor, weapons etc. When I visited it, I was told frightening tales about this Dzong, serving for some time as a prison. What was most petrifying was the knowledge that the inmates of this Dzong feasted on human flesh! Quite incredible! Much later, when I read about such practice amongst the Buddhist of Tibet, in the book “Tibet – A Chronicle of Exploration” by John MacGregor, I tend to believe what I heard. It was first reported by a Franciscan ascetic Friar William, the Flemish friar of Rubruck, who was chosen by King Louis IX as the next emissary to the Mongols in1253. He ventured forth with the knowledge that the Tibetan people were of a habit of eating their parents upon death. This custom, the Friar attributed to piety, that “they should not give their parents any other sepulchre than their bowels”. He also observed that Tibetans ‘made handsome cups of the skulls of their parents, so when they drink out of them while merrymaking, they may have their parents well in mind.’ Later, Odoric, yet another Franciscan ascetic, with his imagination or credulity notes: “… & so he (the son) takes his (dead) father’s head, & straightaway cooks it & eats it; & of the skull he maketh a goblet, from which he & all his family always drink devoutly to the memory of the deceased father.” This may have been the practice those days. However, it is common knowledge that corpses are expertly dismembered on some venerated hilltop to be devoured by eagles, ravens, kites & other carnivorous birds. In Bhutan, I learnt form the locals, the dead after dismemberment are tied in the fetal position for birds to devour. I was comfortably assured that the cannibalistic practice was only confined to Ta Dzong long back & was no more prevalent. Notwithstanding the aforementioned notes of Christian travelers, Ta Dzong definitely deserves a visit.

Apples of Paro
One cannot do adequate justice to Paro without paying tribute to its apple orchards. One has to get off the main road & to see to believe that one of the finest varieties of the ‘Delicious’ apples are grown in abundance here. Luckily, the entire valley is free form the most damaging factors that spell ruin for the apple grower. Firstly, there are no monkeys. These primates not only tear apart the delicate & carefully trained & nursed branches, but also pluck almost all fruits & discard each after a superficial bite! Secondly, parrots, migrating or otherwise, are not to be seen. Thirdly, this area is free from the scourge of hailstorm. As a result, the apples are free from any blemish that otherwise adversely affect their commercial value. Fourthly, since forests are in abundance & so is the food for the wild game. Consequently, deer rarely visit the orchards. This shy creature, i.e. the Barking Deer as well as the Sambhar that feed only on the delicate bark of the trees do not foray into human habitation. The most striking feature of this apple is its color. At first sight one would conclude that it is black, whereas, in fact it is dark maroon! These apples are full of juice & could easily qualify to the title of the best ‘Delicious’ apples. If ever you visit Western Bhutan seek these rare apples.

Bongde Farm – Paro
If you are fond of gardening, you must not forget to visit Bongde Farm, which lies on the way to the Paro airfield when you are traveling from the Confluence to Paro. It lies within Paro Valley. One outstanding feature of this farm is that it is solely managed by a highly reticent Japanese man, married to a Bhutanese. One sees such high – tech farms in Pune, though not in northern India. This farm is fully equipped with its own lab for tissue culture to produce an array of hybrid seeds. One would have loved to inter-act with him but he has no time for idle gossip. Anyway, you are welcome to go around & appreciate his work.

His crops grow indoors as well as outdoors. I have seen huge watermelons growing at Bongde. At another patch I saw a stack of freshly harvested garlic enough to feed the needs of western Bhutan for a year. Assorted varieties of vegetables were growing here. What fascinated me were the tomatoes growing inside a greenhouse. Healthy plants grew in elevated beds. The strong stalks were supported on vertical & horizontal Aluminum pipe structure. The branches had been trained to ensure there was no bunching & that each stem obtained adequate amount of light & air. On the branches hung bunches of large red tomatoes. (We at Ha were at the mercy of our own guy who sent us our weekly provision of vegetables at inflated rates! God forgive him for he knew not what he was doing). I always wanted to replicate this project in my home in, Dehra Dun & Garhwal so that my people too have access to vegetables all year round. Alas, I have yet to find the funds for this project. But, learning from Bongde, & from the library books & private kitchen gardens of Newcastle, UK, I learnt the fine art of harvesting an abundant crop of tomatoes in my own small kitchen garden.

It is here that the local mushroom, Chanterelle is collected & canned for export as well as local consumption. I purchased some cans for myself. Beware – in case the can appears bloated DO NOT even open it leave aside cooking it. It will be rotten. Same will the case be if you find the smell akin to “a garbage truck, run over a skunk near a wood-pulp factory!” Save these two exceptions, go ahead & enjoy the dish.

Finally, do pick up a smattering of Japanese. You might be awarded an audience with this man, who over the years may have become more gregarious, though with age the reverse may be the case!

Mushrooms
Our library in Ha was well stocked with books. One useful book I found was on mushrooms. Since Bhutan has a variety of wild mushrooms, I naturally took keen interest in this subject. I put this knowledge to good use in a two day trek I planned from Ha – Chalai La (pass) – Paro – Thimpu. After crossing Chalai La we passed through a thickly wooded area. Here we came across some men of Nepalese descent. One was carrying something in a handkerchief. When asked he revealed that it was edible mushroom. I asked him to show it to me. It was just like Ripand Hydnam. In fact it was Ripand Hydnam. After some brief bargaining I had my dinner in my bag. Major (retd Colonel) RS Singh, Capt (retd Brig) RP Nautiyal, & Capt (now a General Officer) PC Kharbanda swore not to partake in this meal. Arriving at the Border Roads Officers’ Mess I handed over the mushrooms to the cook with necessary instructions. He threatened to desert service but would not cook this poisonous “chyoon”. With great deal of cajoling he complied & the dish was on the table. My three companions swore that I would die frothing & writhing in pain but, in the same breath agreed to eat the victuals in the morning for breakfast - if I survived. I have never seen anyone intently watching the first; second, third & several other morsels of mushroom enter my mouth & gullet. As far as they were concerned, they had already drafted an appropriate epitaph for me. I finished half the dish with great relish & slept soundly while my friends spent a sleepless night. Needless to say, I survived & they ate the victuals during breakfast. Had I known about the local Bhutanese remedy for mushroom poisoning I would never eat any – edible or otherwise.

Poisonous Mushrooms & Local Emetics
On returning to Ha, I narrated the story to my friend Capt Sonam Thondup, of the Royal Bhutan Army. He told me that a similar foolish act had been committed by a local who actually ate poisonous mushroom. The local remedy was quickly prepared & poured into his gullet. It was fresh human excreta diluted with water! All the contents of the patient’s stomach were emitted & he survived with the distinction of having toasted his meal of mushrooms with you know what!

While at Paro, I asked a wise old Bhutanese whether it was safe to eat mushroom that I picked from the hillside. He confidently gave me a mantra to dispel the poison, if any, from the mushroom. He said, “Pahle kuch bhi naam de do – phir khaa lo”. I would do no such foolish thing. He did not tell me what I would have to drink after eating poisonous ones! Nevertheless, I knew that the famous & delicious, saffron/yellow colored mushroom, “Chanterelle” ( pronounced Shan-ta-ra-lay) of France & Switzerland, picked & tinned for local & overseas consumption, was growing abundantly wild all over the hillside around Paro. Even then I complied with the local sage’s advice & called it by its name Chanterelle, while picking them. I was keen to explore if the famed Gucci, Morchella Esculanta, found in the upper reaches of Kashmir’s Pir Panjal Range, as well as in the upper reaches of Naugam – Barkot (en route to Jamnotri), grew in Bhutan. Unfortunately I couldn’t as that was not the reason why I was posted in Bhutan! Anyway I passed on this valuable knowledge to the Queen Mother’s brother, Dasho Rimp, handing him a copy of a rare copy on the National Geographic that carried a full page picture of the delicious & highly priced mushroom. Dasho is a form of addressing elevated people in Bhutanese society. I too was addressed thus!

Archery
Memories of Bhutan are so heady that one easily forgets the original purpose of writing! I started off with the aim of writing about the Lunana Valley & look how I have taken myself & the weary reader astray. There is yet another very interesting event, a recreation, that absorbs the Bhutanese & that is Archery. The commoner like me & my team used bamboo bows & arrows. The skilled craftsman was always a man of Tibetan descent. He was an expert in aerodynamics. The superior arrows had Himalayan Monal’s (Lophophorus Impeyanus) tail feathers at the back, while the ordinary ones had chicken feathers. He would visually inspect the shaft again & again till the spectator was fed up & he himself was fully satisfied. Thence he would place the shaft to balance on his left thumb nail & with the other hand give it a spin. The result was amazing! The arrow would spin perfectly in a horizontal position balanced just on his thumb nail! This test meant that the arrow would fly true. In this manner he manufactured his arrows. A word about the part of the feather used is necessary. You are aware that feathers have a broad side as well as a narrow one. Well it is the narrow side that is carefully removed & stuck with some black local adhesive to the tail of the arrow. A small part below the nock was wrapped in colorful thread to distinguish it from any other arrow. The making of a bow is equally interesting & we will omit it here to allow the reader to visit Bhutan to see for himself/herself how it is done.

Once the hardware is ready, you are ready for the game. Actually it is a form of betting like in Golf where each point carries Rs 50. Two teams assemble. Two wooden targets are placed 162 yards apart. Each member shoots one of the two arrows followed by the opponent after which they shoot the second arrow. This way the two teams take turns alternately. If the arrow gets embedded within one arrow distance of the target it earns one point. It’s called a Daya. If the opponent’s arrow embeds closer, then that point is negated & the opponent scores one point instead. If an arrow strikes the target, which it does with a resounding “Thokk” it’s called a “Kaari”. At this the other members of this team, led by the shooter run up a few paces screaming, “Wholululululululu….. Taaaaaaa Huiiiiiiiiiii”. It irritates the other team no end. This screaming is accompanied by a dance with hands raised & each leg alternately lifted revealing their smooth muscular thighs! And so points are scored & nullified the whole day long. The match continues for three or more days. Gallons of Whisky, Rum, Beer & finally Chaang are consumed. Dawn gives way to dusk when the contest is withheld for the day. Money changes hands at the end of the contest. Incidentally, the Royal Bhutan Army as well as the Royal Bhutan Guard uses sophisticated imported fiber glass bows & arrows for these contests. Some even use Compound Bows, which I feel is highly unfair!

Lunana Valley
Such is the variety in beauty & splendor of Bhutan’s nature & rich culture. However there are several areas where outsiders do not venture or are not allowed to do so. In fact there are areas that many Bhutanese may not have visited at all. One such place is called the Lunana Valley. It lies plumb at the highest reaches of Central Bhutan. How can we venture here without an appropriate prelude? The reader may tarry awhile for a paragraph or two & we shall resume our journey.

Over the years, events may have got blurred; hence I may be pardoned if a few inaccuracies occur. Many many moons back, when Tibetans were granted refuge in India & other countries, i.e. pre & post 1959, a certain European, a Swiss traveling in his car in Switzerland saw a man in Tibetan attire thumbing for a lift. The good man stopped his car & asked the latter where he wanted to be dropped. That done, the journey continued. At the end of the journey the man alighted & thanked the Swiss profusely. Before leaving he told the latter that he, the person who was given the kind lift was actually the King of Bhutan, on a visit to Switzerland for medical treatment! Therefore, in return for this kind gesture, the King invited this gentleman & his wife to visit Bhutan & be his royal guests. This was a rare invitation as Bhutan was a forbidden country! Who would miss this opportunity? So, the royal guests arrived & this is what the King shared with them. The king, who came from the Wangchuk clan of Central Bhutan, was concerned about sudden devastating flash floods in the Mo Chhu (Mother River) & Pho Chhu (Father River) that united near his ancestral home. These rivers were thus a cause for yearly grief to Central Bhutan. The King wanted this couple to investigate its cause. So far no foreigner ever stepped inside Bhutan, & here were two Europeans invited to go into the most remote & forbidden territory! This is where I beckon the reader to the Lunana Valley after a short but necessary digression

I must confess that I, though very keen, was not given due permission by my own organization. (My request was misconstrued as a ruse by me to be away from my place of work to earn some extra Traveling/Dearness Allowance). Anyway, dear reader, to Lunana we shall go now accompanying these guests of none other than the King of Bhutan. Elaborate arrangements were made as the route was treacherous & extremely hazardous. After all, Lunana Valley was perched at the very top, like a crown on the proud head of Bhutan. The only way to enter it is through one solitary pass, perhaps well over 17,125 feet Rinchenzoa Pass, that was open for just a few months, sometime in October-November when the rains clear the snow that otherwise seals Lunana Valley for the rest of the year! Apart from this, the only way up was along the course of one of the two rivers, Mo Chhu/ Pho Chhu. This is easier said than done. These river courses were deep with steep gorges. A misplaced step would send one hurtling headlong into the frothy water below to be swept away miles downstream in a flash – the same horrible way the barefooted Hindu pilgrims, en route to Badrinath, “wound their way up the Himalayan slopes. Sometimes the path as it clung to the sheer face of towering canyon walls narrowed to inches. The travelers were compelled to edge carefully by these dangerous stretches, gripping the rock where they could to avoid losing their balance & plunging to their death in the rushing Ganga far below”, as described in John MacGregor’s book “Tibet, A Chronicle of Exploration”.

In these perilous circumstances, the expedition ventured forth & vividly described nature’s beauty along the route. Finally the pass was crossed & they entered the forbidden Lunana Valley. The altitude of the valley was 13,000 ft. There was no trace of civilization as we perceive it. There was no machinery, chemicals, pesticides or even basic medicines. All the inhabitants were exceptionally healthy – free from the nagging ailments that bedevil us city dwellers. This was one of the terms of reference that the King spelt out to his guests. How is it that the locals survive, nay thrive without any conventional medical care? Friends, Bhutan, as it is today is perhaps enjoys the purest of environment. What about the Lunana Valley? It must be paradise.

The locals in this valley kept sheep & cattle. Their short cropping season was at the stage for harvesting. Their water was the purest. Their food was simple & most significant of all, tension or stress was unheard of. Life followed the rules of nature. If my memory serves me well, one of the guests was a Doctor sent with the mission to seek answers relating to health care of the locals. The locals, as discovered by the couple, needed no medical care. In fact the environment prevailing was of pure bliss. Having dwelt on this matter long enough, we will explore the cause of devastating floods in the course of Mo & Pho Chhu.

The expedition examined the entire course of the river for the possible cause of floods. They were fed by melting glaciers. In the very highest reaches of the river course, the banks consisted of loose rocks or scree, and often entire hillsides came cascading down impounding the water flow. Thus the formation of temporary lakes was an ongoing process – some harmless & others likely to burst over a period of time, something like several mini Birahi Taals or Gauna Lakes of Chamoli district. It was the formation, gradual or rapid filling & bursting of such lakes that caused devastation all along the course of Mo Chhu up to Punakha & beyond. After having been jolted by a severe earthquake within my first month of stay at Ha, I am inclined to believe that such tremors too could be contributing towards the breach of these highly unstable high altitude lakes.

Having mentioned tectonic tremors, I must share a unique experience at Ha. At about midnight, all of a sudden it became ominously quiet. Then as though in an orchestrated fashion, all the dogs in the Ha valley together started to wail. They were not barking but wailing or howling. A few minutes after the whole valley were rattled as though something monstrously big was being dragged beneath the earth from one end to the other. Yes, we witnessed the fantastic sixth sense & ability of animals, especially dogs to perceive an earthquake giving you adequate time to scramble outdoors.

The expedition to Lunana had to make haste to undertake the return journey as closure of the pass would imply imprisonment there till next year! On returning, the King was apprised of the findings & the possible remedial or precautionary measures that could be taken to protect life & property.

I am not sure who these guests were. I have always been inclined to believe that they were Hugh & Colleen Gantzer. I hope someone will correct me on this matter. Now that I have mentioned these names, I must share with the reader the knowledge that they are outstanding photographers. I have browsed through their book consisting of breathtaking colored photos of high altitude lakes – placid & blue. As I conclude this piece, I cannot help gazing at another photograph in my room, of a placid blue lake & sky under which is written a quote from my dear & revered Guruji:-

“Calmness is the living breath of God’s immortality in you”.
Sri Sri Paramahansa Yogananda
Indeed, if you seek sublime peace & tranquility, do visit Bhutan.

Comments

By Rajendra Rawat
I hope all readers of Garhwal Post read what Dr Nitin Panday writes. I for one do so with great pleasure. Why? He opens up interesting dimensions on raging issues. For instance, in one of his articles he revealed that not all capitals of some countries or states were chosen after deliberations on technical matters. I was astonished to read that some were chosen on sentimental grounds while some by simple application of rudimentary geometry! In no way is it being suggested that the same be applied for Uttarakhand. I fully endorse his view that appropriate technical expertise be part of development projects. Now he writes about roads of Uttarakhand. Dr Panday says, “Geologists must compulsorily be hired by the Contractor for the entire project”. Roads, in the hill region of Uttarakhand will continue to be white elephants for the State as they will cry for heavy & perpetual maintenance, while the beneficiaries will be laughing all the way to their banks unless Geologists are incorporated – at least in the planning stage. One who has not ventured often into Uttarakhand’s interior may not appreciate this suggestion – neither will the Contractors & those in cahoots with them.
Contractor Accountability is not a new concept. A system of Third Party Inspection, too, is followed. Currently National Highways under construction & externally aided roads opt for this. Seeing the quality of work executed on Uttarakhand roads, coupled with lack of accountability, it may be prudent to introduce this concept. Of course, every service comes with a price tag. Every penny spent will be worth it. Let’s pioneer this change in our fledgling state. Let Uttarakhand be the second state to plan introduction of Mobile Testing Vans after Bihar. If the latter option is prohibitive, let us devise effective means to ensure Contractor Accountability.
Take a trip to Deoprayag, especially in your own car. Shortly after passing Rishikesh you will travel agonizingly unto Shivpuri & Kudiyala. Why should you care? It’s because we, the citizens of Uttarakhand, are beckoning tourists, Indian & foreigners to (please) visit the Land of Gods. The road is being widened. That’s good news. The hillside is prone to landslides every monsoon. That’s bad news. I have seen this stretch since1965. The hillside consists of loose rocks & boulders bound together by the vegetation now scarce. Dozers & explosives had speeded up the construction but, as Dr Panday writes, explosives have shaken up the fragile system that prevented landslides, soil erosion & consequently floods in the riparian region. Often trees, unable to hold their majestic height, weight & canopy come crashing down, blocking the narrow road for hours, frustrating the erstwhile exuberant tourists. Yes, if geologists were an important part of the project, the roads would have been several shades better, albeit more expensive. Does anyone care? If it was mandatory for the Contractor to maintain the road, at his own expense, for at least 5 years, (as suggested by Dr Pandey) due care would have been exercised at the very construction stage.
Go past Karanprayag en route to Gwaldam. Take care if you are travelling during the Monsoon. The entire hillside at one place is slipping – like Varunavat. Here in the 60s, my father had a providential escape. He crossed a stretch of this road just in time to look back & see that the entire road behind him had sunk up to the Pindar River! While driving, you will appreciate the unstable nature of this stretch of hillside. Have a good look at it. Could such an alignment be avoided? In one case it could not be avoided. That is the road short of Kohima, capital of Nagaland. Why? The Japanese advance had to be rolled back. The last battle was fought at the Tennis Court. There was overwhelming military expediency. The planners & builders of Uttarakhand roads faced no such expediency.
I have met a few geologists & surveyors here. Surely there are more & maybe far more eminent, present in Uttarakhand. Their experience ought to be utilised in the planning & execution of large projects in the hills. The present Chief Minister is himself an engineer of vast experience. Of course he cannot bear the yoke himself. He must seek these experts and in turn they must rise to offer their assistance. Roads must be built on sound geological survey, and not based on factors like sentiments and political appeasement of say village Rikholi, because they voted for X party, & not Kundil because they voted for Y party. Unfortunately such factors often clinch the issue. After all, the local MLA deems himself fit to over-rule any kind of geological or geomorphologic hindrance!
There are many more examples where development challenged nature only to be humiliated. There is an odd good example, too. I remember Brother Gannon of St George’s Mussoorie ( now quite blind & in his 90s) telling me that the Engineer in charge of the present Doon – Mussoorie road came up to the site of work every single day of the calendar to oversee the trace cutting & subsequent work. He was all praise for that man’s work & even said that he did not recall a single day when the traffic was held up on account of landslides or sinking of roads. This masterpiece continues to delight us even today. When you drive on this road, do thank that man for his work. Also thank late Darshan Lal who, with his own funds constructed one mile of road up to Kincraig. (No thanks to those responsible for limestone quarrying since the early 50s. If they were not reigned in, probably Library would have slipped down to Kincraig. Someone made a killing in the quarrying, while much later the TA Battalion laboured hard to restore the hillside and probably the Government paid far more in terms of financing the battalion. Does it make any sense? X exploits, Y is employed and labours while Z pays out of tax payers’ coffers.
Dr Satendra’s book, “Disaster Management in The Hills” should be the Bible for all planning of major projects in Uttarakhand. In brief, he highlights how Development can lead to Destruction if planning does not heed to the geological and geomorphologic factors and preservation of ecological environment. (“Development & vulnerability are inextricably linked” he writes). Catering to preservation of our ecological environment is as vital as the other two factors. A small illustration will highlight the pitfalls in its neglect.
Most of us have been to Dhanaulti. I have been going there since the 60s. It has majestic Deodar trees nestling the steep northern slopes. At Dhanaulti, there are green meadows, not too large but adequate to invite you to spread your mat for a picnic, or pitch a small tent for camping. All that still exists but today, the meadows are littered with polythene and other non-biodegradable trash. The stench of “mule dooly” welcomes you. In the heart of the small market, a desire to have a refreshing cup of tea is rewarded with dish water adequately sweetened. Perched on a roof top your panoramic view of the tree tops must be restricted lest it trespass the modesty of genteel ladies making their way downhill to the best cover available to ease themselves.(Men not mentioned – no modesty). The resultant stench is a combination of “mule & human dooly”. Five to ten years down the line you may not want to enter Dhanaulti at all. Perhaps, this is what Dr Pandey meant when he wrote that disaster can strike if development is not accompanied by protection of environment.
I would like to go further to say that environmental protection must precede development. The Uttarakhand Tourism Ministry may or may not have added to their bottom line through tourism. The cost of cleaning up Dhanaulti will empty their coffers. They will be solely responsible for the environmental degradation. Where is the garbage of its hotels and that of all private hotels and shops being disposed? Obviously behind the plush façade of buildings for the “Maha Nature Nigam” karamcharis, i.e. wind, rain and gravity to take it all out of sight. Mussoorie and all hill stations and tourist spots are facing such devastating onslaught of man’s indiscretion. As regards attitude by citizens of Doon as to where their household garbage is going and its efficient disposal (if any), adequacy or inadequacy of trenching grounds, the less said the better. We all have witnessed it when we visit Paltan Bazaar early enough in the day. Garbage is swept by shopkeepers up to the centre of the road from either side. What happens next is not their concern. Plying two wheelers whip up the dirt and dust while some shoppers lick their ice cream cones at the road side. This is exactly what is happening in Doon on a larger scale. (At some propitious time I will describe to you what lies in the compound of late Advocate Raneshwar Singh, brother of Hollywood villain KN Singh, who was chased up the Howrah Bridge by Dev Anand in the movie, merely 600 to 800 yards from the MNA office.)
Coming back to the subject of roads, Dr Satendra states that 60,000 cubic meters of soil is displaced for every kilometer of road. That would amount to a cube approximately 40x 40x40 meters. Debris removal of 16,654 kms of roads of Uttarakhand is mind boggling. This is not all. After all this debris is removed, which is unavoidable, it is the undesired soil erosion due to landslides that may be accounting for similar quantity of loss of soil/land. Proper technical advice by surveyors and geologists will mitigate the loss of valuable topsoil and vegetation, as also it will minimise the cost of avoidable maintenance and disruption of traffic. One does see some effort to arrest land slippage and tumbling rocks. Mere plantation of Agaves on the roadside or upper slopes is not adequate. Much more needs to be done to mitigate varied forms of destruction that follows road construction in the terrain obtaining in Uttarakhand.
There are many breathtaking locations crowning the very top of the otherwise barren hillsides, as yet not popularly known and exploited. I visited one such location recently. Amongst majestic deodars we lunched alone, in peace that one craves for in the city. We collected all our garbage and brought it home for disposal. This will be a rule with us rather than an exception. However, while driving down from Mussoorie we were enraged to see a speeding DLC Tata Indica car occupants, young lads, flinging two empty Bisleri bottles on the “Jalebi Bends”, below the old Toll Barrier! Mercifully, we didn’t catch up with them as we were aware of road rage consequences and the speed with which lethal weapons are whipped out and used with impunity by affluent occupants of such registered vehicles.
Should one disclose these untouched locations to the Airlines’ magazines & later see them listed in the itinerary of Tourism which has become a synonym for degradation of environment? Let these pristine and sublime locales enjoy their freedom as long as they can, OR till we humans can evolve a harmonious balance between man and nature.
Is one asking for too much? Don’t go too far to seek models to emulate. Just visit Himachal Pradesh to see how the locals and Administration can create paradise you would like to visit again and again. As a parting shot I would like to mention that there is a tourist spot Matheran, in Maharashtra where one has to walk; where no automobiles of any sort are allowed; where there is no garbage. One cannot help quoting another example from the same state. With the attitudinal change, the locals have converted a littered place into a clean one. Perhaps our hill stations are demanding this change in attitude from us - a similar change for the good. Perhaps other spots planned to be developed by Uttarakhand Tourism need to keep automobiles well away from the naturally beautiful spots. Why not start from Mussoorie. Stop vehicular traffic on the Mussoorie Mall.

Comments

Sometimes past scripts remain in ethereal state, tucked into memory, only to be materialized as an article or a book when prodded by pleasant or disturbing events. The recent revelation of the Prime Minister’s Relief Fund has nudged my memory. While part of this Fund is alleged to have transformed into ether, my own memory of the Orissa Cyclone has done the reverse; hence the materialization of this piece on a first hand experience of the events.
I was the Sub Area Commander of Bihar & Orissa awaiting departure for Nagaland – my new assignment - when there was speculation whether the cyclone was headed for Bangla Desh or Orissa. As events unfolded, the stage was set for coastal Orissa. It happened on 29/30 Oct 1999. The Super Cyclone had struck with unprecedented fury. As per the Standing Operating Procedure the local Divisional Commander was ordered to mobilize his formation for immediate Relief & Rescue. He asked me to assist him. I agreed, but asked him to seek the clearance from Lucknow & also to provide me a helicopter & I would be with him in Ranchi within an hour. This was done & I arrived at Ranchi where the IAF aircrafts were loaded & in readiness for take off. Bad weather prevented our departure that day. None of us had ever handled a disaster before; this one was of immense magnitude & multi - dimensional.
It was late in the afternoon when the scene of devastation unfolded as the aircraft circled over Bhubaneshwar. Water engulfed most of the land. The landscape looked more like Bangla Desh or Bihar during the rainy season. The Bay of Bengal seemed to have extended its reach deep into Jagatsinghpura, Kendrapara & Bhadrak. All trees had been leveled without exception. As we came in for landing more devastation unfolded.
We were transported to the State Guest Rooms. Trees, electric & telephone poles lay strewn across the roads. At the Guest House there was no electricity, water or telephone communication. We settled down as best as we could & established contact with the Government officials as well as with Lucknow. The Control Headquarters had been established but the columns of troops were en route from Barrackpore & Ranchi. They had to pass through Bhadrak.
At night we learnt that the bridges on the highway in Bhadrak had been washed away; our first setback. The best of plans rarely work with clockwork precision. Quick assessment, flexibility, improvisation, & modification of the overall plan were going to be the hallmarks of such an operation. The columns were stranded. Some civilians had drowned while escaping the rising waters west of the highway. Far more water was expected to gush down from the hill districts in the hinterland as it was raining. Water level on both sides of the highway was rising.
Back at the State Guest House we had a candlelight dinner consisting of lumps of sticky rice & dal. We had no complaints. Administration had actually collapsed. This condition prevailed for some days while the state government grappled with multifarious problems. The incumbent Chief Secretary had flown to USA to be with his offspring during the height of this disaster!
First & foremost all means of communication had to be speedily restored. Opening up of various major & subsidiary arterial roads was vital to reach the worst hit areas. This entailed physical reconnaissance & employment of mechanical & physical effort. At the same time marooned people trapped in small hamlets would perish if relief didn’t reach on time. Their relief & rescue couldn’t wait till the roads opened. The only way to reach them was by boats & helicopters. Our infantry & engineer columns were stranded within Bhadrak, in North Orissa. Rescue & relief operation in the most critical areas was yet to commence. The situation at Bhadrak had not only stalled us but compelled the column commanders to rescue locals west of the highway to safer areas on the road. Engineer BUATs had to be launched at night, in the rain, to ferry troops across the breach. At the same time furious efforts were in progress to plug the breach. Meanwhile the rising water was threatening to breach the road at more places.
Meanwhile the Air Force & Navy too were concentrating their effort – the former in Bhubaneshwar & the latter in the coastal areas. While the relief columns were arriving I took an aerial view of the cyclone affected areas. This was most useful to allocate resources to ground judiciously & expeditiously. What I saw was a revelation that was very handy for coping with all aspects of the operation - rescue, relief, medication, politicians, media, coordination of voluntary organizations & speedy disposal of dead bodies & carcass.

Areas Devastated
The Super Cyclone and its aftermath caused "severe" damage in the districts of Jagatsinghpura, Balasore, Cuttack, Puri, Nayagarh, Jajpur Kendrapada, Bhadrak and Khurda and "moderate" damage in the districts of Mayurbhanj, Dhenkanal and Keonjhar. The worst hit was the areas that came astride the path of the cyclone – the path that looked like a typical ice hockey stick i.e. due East-West-swinging Northwestwards & back along the same path. Almost complete devastation was suffered up to the latitude of Ersama in Jagatsinghpura. Though this is a broad brush assessment of the affected areas, as per my own assessment I have classified & segmented these areas further based on the cumulative impact of tidal wave, wind & rain or part thereof.

Protocol Faux Pas
My immediate boss in the chain of command was the Area Commander at Jabalpur. I was completely out of touch with him. Here, at Bhubaneshwar my boss, the Task Force Commander, was the GOC of a Division. The day following our arrival at Bhubaneshwar, he decided to visit the breech on the highway at Bhadrak that held our troops coming by road from Barrackpore. While we were departing I learnt that the Area Commander was arriving at Bhubaneshwar by IA Flight. Not wanting to slight the Task Force Commander, I went to Bhadrak but not before deputing an officer & vehicle to receive the Area Commander. Just as I feared, they were late in arriving at the airport. It was a Faux Pas I regret. The Area Commander looked like the Vesuvius about to explode but said nothing. I apologized & explained the circumstances to him. He made adequate amends later when I departed for my next posting to Nagaland.
This was the first & last visit of the Area Commander during the operation. After retirement he headed the Disaster Management Cell in Madhya Pradesh.

Elements of Nature

One had read about the description of the cyclone. Now a bird’s eye view revealed much more. The elements that caused & multiplied the disaster were:-
(a) Oceanic waves.
(b) Wind.
(c) Rain.
(d) Night.
(e) Embankments along the coast large scale settlement of fishermen, from Andhra Pradesh, West Bengal & Bangla Desh, along the coastline in temporary hutments.

Tidal Waves
Apparently a tidal wave, believed to be 20 feet high, came crashing in over the coast driven by winds over 250 Kms per hour, in an East-Westerly direction up to halfway between Bhubaneshwar & the coastline. The devastation caused was complete almost up to Ersama. It was evident that devastation was severe near the coast & less severe towards the hinterland. Just short of Ersama, the devastation was complete with not even a trace of a village. Closer to Ersama, one could identify a village by the traces of just the foundation of dwellings. However, concrete houses, though damaged survived complete destruction.
The incoming tidal waves carried trees, hutments, cattle & humans several miles inland; simultaneously inundating the very fertile land in Jagatsinghpura with saline sea water. All fishermen dwelling on the coast, about whom the state government had no record just perished; so did the peasants in the villages inland. There was a case of a fisherman who tucked his children in a Storm Shelter & went to bring his livestock. He never came back. I came across many such surviving orphans all over the affected area. Thus, the entire population was transported miles away from their homes; their bodies strewn all over a vast area. Identification was impossible. At that stage, rescue of survivors was vital.
Thus this area was the victim of the fury of tidal waves, furious winds & inundation by saline sea water; a combination that inflicted the worst damage, both in the short & long term.
While dead bodies were randomly deposited all over the landscape, interestingly, the cattle were found lying dead in close clusters. It was evident that those cattle that were not tethered panicked & ran helter-skelter; instinctively trying to find safety together till the unforgiving fury of nature put them to permanent rest – in a group.
There was no standing tree in sight. The coconut trees whose roots are considered strong & firmly embedded, were lying like match sticks – not in the direction of the prevailing wind but in the opposite direction, i.e. towards the east. We shall explain this phenomenon shortly.
The tidal wave easily surmounted the tidal bandh astride the coast & swept all trees, structures, and livestock & humans miles inland. Only the concrete structures seemed to survive. The returning winds swept seawards but this time the bandh prevented large amount of the sea water from escaping; rendering the soil infertile & sources of water polluted.

The Wind
The effect of the wind waned as it progressed inland. Near the coast where there was no trace of habitation, one gradually saw traces of the foundation & deeper inland the thatched roofs were missing while further inland parts of the roof had been blown off. The wind had been the cause of disruption to telephone & electric poles & cables. The top canopy of trees within Bhubaneshwar had been rudely wrenched off.
The devastation due to the wind seemed to veer northwards in the vicinity of Bhubaneshwar as was evident from the tell tale marks on the ground. The direction of the wind therefore was from the sea westwards up to Bhubaneshwar & then it swung northwards towards Bhadrak by which time much of its fury had waned. Nevertheless the entire area halfway up to Bhadrak was inundated; submerging all houses almost up to the roof top. Apparently the locals were safe as they were spared from the tidal wave. Nevertheless they needed urgent rescue & relief. The inundation in Bhadrak was not due to tidal waves.
On the return flight I saw that the coconut trees revealed what actually happened. As I flew from Bhadrak towards Bhubaneshwar I saw that these trees were lying flat in a north-south direction. Near about Bhubaneshwar these prone trees had changed the direction from north-south to NW-SE & later west-east towards Ersama & beyond to the coast. It so happened that the winds blew inland from east to west & swung north, after which they blew, obviously with greater fury in the exact opposite direction. This explains the pattern made by the fallen coconut trees on the landscape. Obviously this reverse flow of wind caused the actual damage all along.
Thus it was evident that almost the districts of Jagatsinghpura & Kendrapara & only contiguous coastal areas suffered the dual onslaught of furious winds, accompanied by tidal waves, & then equally furious winds in the reverse direction; & the latter seemed to cause the major destruction. Obviously these two districts & contiguous coastal areas deserved greater attention.

Rain
The cyclone was preceded & followed by heavy rains. It was apparent that the heavy downpour was across the state. However, swiftly rising waters west of the highway astride Bhadrak indicated that the hill districts experienced very heavy cloudbursts. The rushing water from these upper tracts gave rise to sudden inundation of land not only west of the highway but also east of it. The small bridges & culverts across the road were grossly inadequate to discharge the water accumulating from the hill districts. Thus there were some cases of drowning in this area initially. What was alarming was the likelihood of the highway getting breached at numerous places as the mud filled berm were quickly eroded.
These areas in the North, i.e. Bhadrak, were flooded with rain water. However, even thatched huts though almost fully submerged were intact. Obviously, no damage was caused by the winds that apparently had lost their fury by the time they reached thus far. These areas therefore demanded rescue to safer areas by boats.

Night
Total disruption to the power supply made movement & rescue operation difficult at night. The arterial roads leading to the coast & into the coastal districts were severely damaged. Movement at night for the rescuers & rescued was hazardous. Obviously, time was of utmost importance; operations had to be pressed on - both during day & night.
It became quite clear that first the major axis & then the subsidiary feeder roads had to be made road worthy. All available army engineer effort, JCBs & Dozers of the state government, & active cooperation of able bodied locals was the need of the hour. These task forces had to be assigned their specific sectors for clearance for any meaningful rescue & relief operation. The state power & telephone staff was to be co-opted with them to simultaneously carry out restoration work. Neither locals nor government staff was available. Reasons will be explained later.

Embankments along the Coast
As mentioned earlier, there was a raised embankment all along the coastline, parallel to the sandy beach. Astride this, numerous rows of temporary shelters had been erected by the fishermen. It is not known how many perished because, as explained earlier, many were from the adjoining state of Andhra Pradesh, West Bengal & some say even from Bangla Desh. The embankment provided adequate safety from normal tidal waves but not from Cyclonic or Tsunami waves. This embankment also protected the very fertile land in Jagatsinghpura & Kendrapara. The fishermen expected the cyclone to hit Bangla Desh as was once predicted. Thus they were ill prepared & almost all except a few who took shelter inside the inadequate storm shelters perished; swept inland & drowned, or swept back into the sea with the receding wave. This embankment was to inflict yet another long term sentence – trapping the sea water inland causing salinity in the fields & all water sources.

Human Element

The reader may ponder, at this stage, what role man had to play in the resultant disaster. Disasters of varying hues strike periodically all over the world; & victims react in different manner. Initially all are paralyzed with the shock over the loss of kin, hearth & means of livelihood. However, some display resilience to quickly bounce back to help themselves or the Rescue & Relief agencies. This was not the case in Orissa.
As mentioned earlier, the Chief Secretary, for personal reasons, chose to abandon ship at a critical stage of the monumental disaster. It was he who was to execute the Disaster Management Plan; a piece of brilliant literature that occupies a number of pages; a document that only the most literate with high degree of administrative experience & acumen can produce; a document intimidating enough to make the cyclone chose some other target. The onus fell on the able shoulders of a few officials of the Department of Home. Whether the Chief Secretary’s departure was a clarion call for all to follow, one may conjecture; because almost the entire Secretariat was also abandoned as the employees headed to their respective areas to be with their kith & kin or to assess the damage. Hardly anyone was available during the initial critical days.
Likewise, even after the initial shock effect ought to have subsided, one witnessed an all pervading mood of despondency. To make matters worse, some unscrupulous elements behaved in a shocking manner. These are briefly listed as follows:-
(a) A truck carrying the very first consignment of relief was waylaid, within Bhadrak, en route to Bhubaneshwar & its contents looted in the very initial stages of relief operation, by people who were miles away from the scene of devastation.
(b) A consignment of blankets, from a foreign agency was loaded in a truck in the airport & taken out through an otherwise unused locked gate. It is not known where they went. None came to the most adversely affected areas while we were there.
(c) Some locals reported that unscrupulous elements were attempting to exploit young girls. Many such girls, especially children suddenly became orphans, vulnerable, not knowing whom to trust.
(d) The most shocking revelation was that the so called upper caste declined to physically handle their dead. A commercial aircraft was chartered to airlift safai karamcharis from the capital Delhi.
(e) A young girl, dressed in tatters, unable to cover her modesty was in Queue to take her share of clothing. The army officer, a native of Orissa, gave her a salwar kameez. She pleaded, in English, for another pair. She was a graduate. Why I mention this is that most, if not all clothing came from outside Orissa. More was needed. The local girls of major cities & towns in Orissa, living in concrete houses, contributed little either by an organized presence, or in terms of contribution towards their sisters in distress.
(f) On more than one occasion, I was accosted to send aid to the hill districts not at all affected by the cyclone. They neither suffered the tidal waves nor flooding. Yes, they did experience heavy rains strong gale & must have suffered damage to their thatched hutments. But, they were not the ones who deserved immediate assistance. Such requests were declined - politely.
(g) As the days progressed, aid kept pouring in. Locals pleaded that distribution be the responsibility of no other agency but the army. This was needed & possible up to a certain point. Civil Administration had to take over. In this period of transition, the entire cricket stadium was chock-a-block with aid. Many trucks inside the stadium were still loaded. Outside the stadium were large numbers of trucks awaiting their turn to unload. They were cursing their plight saying that they made all haste from as far as Punjab to deliver the relief material & here they were sitting idle for several days. There seemed to be no command & control. Ironically, those under genuine depredation were left clamoring for aid.
(h) What the victims of cyclone needed urgently, almost immediately, was late to come. In this the UN, NGO, & voluntary bodies failed badly. More will be said about this in subsequently in this paper.
(i) Yet another example of prevailing apathy to the suffering of fellow citizens. During the later period of our operation I met a senior officer of Orissa. He mentioned with glee that the Jagatsinghpura-wallas were served right by fate. They, the Jagatsinghpuris, haughtily spoke of their vast tracts of fertile agricultural land & fied upon others of other districts. The truth was that those arrogant landlords lived mostly in Bhubaneshwar; the land was tilled by peasants- these laborers were the ones who perished!

Rescue & Relief by the Army, Navy & Air Force

I have seen that the Air Force is always at the scene of action before anyone else. As usual, in Orissa too, they were not hampered by impediments on ground. Their presence was palpable on ground at Bhubaneshwar & in the air over Orissa. Obviously, they were flying the VIPs over Orissa & continued to do so even during the height of our operations. I too had a VIP visit from Lucknow, my Army Commander who knighted me as the Deputy Task Force Commander! Thus, I wore two hats; one of a Sub Area Commander & the other of the Task Force.

Allocation of Resources to Task

Allocation of available resources had to be carried out judiciously in such an operation. There was no room for error; once committed resources could not be re-allocated without its associated detrimental effects. Sectors & Sub-Sectors were demarcated & tasks assigned with the following priorities:-
(a) Opening up of the roads e.g. to Paradeep.
(b) Launching Engineer boats north the above road for rescue operations.
(c) Establishing contact & communication with the areas affected & in the process gaining first hand information about the ground realities; about prevailing conditions that we, thus far, saw from the air.
As the area in the north was inundated & continued to do so because of the after effects of rains in the hill districts, Engineer BAUTs were assigned to the columns in the north. These troops did a commendable job reaching deep inside marooned areas; at times at considerable peril. On occasions, where the water was shallow they had to wade through water to deliver relief to the marooned. Some gave us sleepless nights outstretching themselves beyond the range of communication & without food for over 24 hours. It was a Gurkha unit. Much later when we were to wind up our operation & the civil administration was to take charge, a Law & Order situation emerged. Locals were up in arms, so to say; physically blocking the departure of the troops. This was the greatest tribute & honor the nation could bestow on the Army. We were touched by the faith reposed on the troops to diligently, fairly & honestly dole the largesse provided by the benevolent citizens of the country as relief material. The officers on the spot pacified the frenzied crowd sought a safe departure.
As the columns advanced to clear the roads, they confronted ever new challenges & vision of death & destruction. Though the worst hit areas were still water logged, there was no way boats could be launched; the water was not deep enough. Troops had to wade through waist deep water to reach the needy. I must record one poignant incident. I wish I could do so in bold golden words. The skies had cleared; the midday sun was exceptionally hot – quite uncomfortable for an outsider. Troops left for their tasks at the crack of dawn armed with packed lunch & water. After a particularly grueling day, one soldier sat down to have his well deserved lunch. Hardly had he opened the package, when he saw some famished local children collected around him. He decided to forego his meal & offered it to these boys.
In the Army one comes across several examples of men quickly finding a solution to surmount problems. While the officers are trained & tend to think linier, the men think laterally. When the columns were initially stumped by breached or blocked roads, they reported that locals stood paralyzed without extending a helping hand. The jawans, who were in the forefront, motivated them & that had an electrifying effect. Apart from this, the men were quick to borrow cycles from locals & probed deeper ahead to provide the vital information needed well before the column approached it. Yes, in retrospect, a few cycles with the Army columns would be a very useful means of transportation under such conditions.
Medical aid on behalf of the Orissa Government was no different from that in any other state. Here it was a shade worst. At least two Field Ambulances were flown in & deployed astride the axis just south of Bhubaneshwar leading on to Ersama & beyond. The Army Medical Corps was fully geared up to meet the kind of medical problems obtaining in such disasters. Locals, even from those areas not affected by cyclone flocked to the Field Ambulance for treatment. The local peasants were most disappointed to see the Field Ambulance derequisitioned – rightly so, as they would now be at the mercy of their own local doctors.
The Air Force took direct orders from the Civil Authority & had negligible coordination with the other two services. The close coordination with the Navy was noteworthy. The Naval Chief flew into Bhubaneshwar & spent a day with us in the Control Headquarters. After the briefing he informed us that he was directing a Naval detachment to operate along the coastal areas for obvious reasons & the Army’s limitation in this regard. After he departed, the Naval officer told me that his force was at our disposal for any task & that they would like to operate in close coordination & alongside the Army. This gladdened my heart. It was not a tall claim. He & his men took great pleasure in working alongside the Army columns, wherever they were eminently suited for the job. I had resolved to write a Demi Official letter of appreciation to the Naval Chief commending our Naval counterparts for their exemplary attitude towards collective response to a common crisis. I never could fulfill my resolve & I regret it.

Coordination with Civil Authorities

Land & radio communication was disrupted. The government was therefore oblivious to what was the actual situation. The army columns were making good progress. Vital intelligence was pouring in from all sectors. Every morning at 9 AM I had to attend the conference at the Secretariat. It was a huge hall with a large number of bureaucrats- maybe 30 or 40. I was the first one to speak & give an update on the latest situation as our tentacles were effective in the most inaccessible areas, & more importantly, we were only ones in communication with those areas on radio. (Much later, we were provided INMERSATs- satellite communication. Gradually satellite imagery was delivered to us – though not in real time – from which we could clearly see the receding waters in Bhadrak. It now seemed the nation had fully geared up)
During the briefings I could see the senior officers nodding their heads in confirmation, consternation or dismay. After the briefing I was asked about the suggested action for that day & the next. My role for the day, in the conference was over & I departed. Based on this, & their prudence, all effort was directed.
My daily interaction with some officials in the Secretariat helped me to project our requirements to bring speedy relief. Meanwhile the Task Force Commander, Maj. Gen. Kler & the Command Headquarters had mobilized more resources in terms of Army Engineers & Field Hospitals. We wanted more from the state government. We pressed for maximum engineering vehicles like Dozers, JCBs & Dumpers. The state officials were very responsive & supplemented our efforts in every way.
Consequent to my interaction with the local press, I confirmed that in & around Astrang, north of Devi Nadi, no aid whatsoever had reached. The locals were feeding on the roots of coconut trees. They were furious with the civil administration. I apprised my superiors about this & was directed to write to the Chief Secretary, which I did in rather blunt terms for which the Army Commander admonished me. The next morning as expected I was summoned to the Secretariat. The Army Commander, who was present in the Operations Room sympathetically told me to face the music. I was ushered to the Chief Secretary’s office, where two Additional Chief Secretaries too were apparently summoned. A lovely cup of tea was served. The Chief Secretary arrived & asked the other two to individually read my letter adding, “For your eyes only”. I expected to be thrown out of the window! Then he turned to me & asked, “Brigadier, what course of action do you suggest?” I advised him to immediately suspend all relief & direct the entire day’s Army, Navy & Air Force effort to provide relief for people of Astrang. I am happy to write that this was done. The local correspondents confirmed this to me. However I requested them not to put to test my temper again lest I get sacked!

Press Briefings
The number of media personnel was directly proportionate the improvement in conditions. Many of them followed closely behind the Army Columns & also were given a helicopter sortie to see the area. Thus, when they came for the briefing, most of them were fully conversant with the progress & seemed to test the veracity of the briefing. The task of briefing was assigned to me. The time assigned was 1 PM but they were there well before that. As the area was vast, the media was keen to be updated on all fronts. Initially they were difficult to handle but soon they gained adequate faith in our objective reporting. As a consequence of the mutual understanding, an unwanted relationship developed. They started to perceive me as the hero in the entire live drama.
One day I told them that the next day I would introduce to them the soldiers who were the real heroes - who did all the work. They were naturally excited. I took my staff officer, a Major of the Maratha Regiment, who was actually the GSO2 in the formation headquarters, & the Commanding Officer of an Assam Regiment battalion, Colonel Saha for the Press Briefing. I introduced these two to the media saying that these & many more were the ones who were doing all the difficult work & that I would like them to take on the briefing & answer all queries. The two officers were an instant hit & the briefing went off exceptionally well. The added bonus was that the two officers’ families saw them on the TV that evening.
It was in a few of these briefings that some local media personnel revealed to me the plight of locals at Astrang. This, I verified & consequently took the action I have already described.
Apart from the Press Briefings, I was contacted by the BBC to account for a statement I made that morning. In the briefing, I had stated that if speedy action was not taken to efficiently dispose off the rotting bodies & carcasses there could an epidemic; and that I had apprised the State Government about it that morning in the Secretariat. This perhaps was just the fodder BBC & CNN were looking for. I was requested to be available on line at 9 PM that evening. They were explained that the authorities concerned gave the assurance that necessary action will follow. That seemed to satisfy BBC.
Shortly after, Satendra Singh Bindra came to the headquarters & met my Sector Commander & sought an interview for the CNN. As expected, I was placed on the “Firing Range Butt”. His first question was a loaded one, which came after a long prelude. He was suggesting that what the State Government was doing was inadequate. While facing the camera I addressed him by his name & told him that I was here to provide aid to the State Government & not to criticize or do them down. It was not done & hence such questions may please be kept out of the purview of the interview. Apparently, he was a thorough gentleman, & I have no doubt to believe otherwise, & the interview ended. We had informal interaction during the course of which he revealed some very interesting aspects for which I shall always be indebted to him.
Satindra had hired a local cab & had been driving non stop to reach as far forward as possible. Having seen as much as was possible, he was with us that evening in the headquarters. His driver was dependent on Satindra for food. The latter, though a Punjabi, was an American. He carried food that suited him. En route the driver exhibited pangs of hunger. Satindra’s own survival depended on the driver. He doled out a fair share for the driver & in addition gave him a full tin of Baked Beans. All this was shoveled down. After a short time the driver again complained of hunger. Satendra was surprised. What was a full meal for a Marine in the US army, proved inadequate for our Oriya. The driver then explained that a meal consisting of rice was considered a square one. The irony was that most of the food aid that was flown in from abroad was junk for the locals who would prefer chana, gur, sattu etc instead of what came in. I recollect that in Bihar, the local administration kept this in mind & supplied precisely what the locals prefer i.e. chana, gur, sattu, candles, matches, etc – items of dire necessity in water proof bags. Will the UN & other agencies ensure that they study the basic food habits of the people they wish to assist?
Often I traveled by road into the affected areas. I had never before seen such appalling sights. The village Ersama, like very other village in the Cyclone affected area, was surrounded by knee deep water. The sun shone bright & hot. Humidity added to the prevailing misery. Potable drinking water was not available or scarce. Carcasses of bovine creatures lay within yards of the devastated hutments. They added to the overall stench of the stagnant water. A woman crouched near the stagnant water cleaning her utensils & filling water for cooking. A dead body lay close by. I apprised the authorities about this & urged them to take immediate action to efficiently dispose the dead – humans & animals. This would require JCBs, Dozers, kerosene oil (for incinerating) & manpower. If this was not done urgently, there could an epidemic. I made the mistake of mentioning this in the 1 PM Press Conference. BBC was quick to react & wanted me on line at 9 PM. My Task Force Commander was naturally agitated. At the appointed time I was on line. They wanted specifics on the expected epidemic. I put their apprehensions to rest by sharing the knowledge that the State Government had ordered mobilization of JCBs & issue of kerosene oil. Indeed, I did see the work in progress but as expected it was done half-heartedly. Carcasses were partially burnt & buried. At least some action was taken.

Role of NGOs
A written account on the aftermath of Orissa Cyclone cannot be complete without the mention of the role played by NGOs & several voluntary organizations. Not only did the relief material pour in from different parts of the country, volunteers of various hues were visible all over. They apparently had their priorities correct & set about removing & disposing the dead. Almost all wore masks, to ward off the stench, & gloves to handle the carcasses. I must mention here that the only ones who did not use masks or gloves were from the RSS.
In the relief work were volunteers from almost all religious organizations – Hindus, Sikhs, Christians. All of them made their presence felt & rendered valuable service. On many occasions they approached us to seek the most severely affected areas so that their services were judiciously deployed. Two members, of western origin, from the ISKCON too visited our headquarters to provide help. All served those suffering with missionary zeal. I even had the pleasure of receiving & briefing the staff the internationally famous organization called Medicine sans Frontiers. OXFAM too had arrived but I never interacted with them or saw them while I was there. I strongly recommend that a single agency of the Government should canalize such effort so that each is able to do a complete & thorough job under coordination of the Government at the Centre.

Imminent Problems Faced by the Orissa Government
As soon as the state administration felt confident of handling the situation, they started the process of de-requisitioning in phased manner. This local populace did not like this. The army was happy to be called back to their barracks. The quantum of aid lying in the Cricket Stadium needed proper planning for distribution. Apart from this, it is imperative that the local government regain control & confidence of the people. Though the Armed Forces had performed a daunting task, the task of the Government after this was going to be equally difficult. Relief & Rescue almost over, the task of Rehabilitation was going to be a challenging one.
Shelters
The immediate & most urgent requirement of the locals was a shelter. Obviously, proper shelters would take time to transport & erect. The immediate need of the hour was poly sheets for protection against rain & sun. Overseas agencies, in their wisdom decided not to fly in this item; they presumed that it would be available within India. It made sense. However they underestimated the business acumen of us Indians. All stocks went underground. None were available! They were available in black. So, the Cyclone victims were the victims of their own citizens. For a very long time locals clamored for these sheets. None were forthcoming. (It happens in war too. The wily merchant/businessman makes essential goods scarce to make profit on the sideline while the going is good. Arms manufacturers & supplier do the same on a larger scale.)

Potable Water
Sea water had flooded all water sources. There was no potable water. Who would provide this bare human necessity & for how long? Most of the areas were still inaccessible. Water tankers if any, if pressed to service would be able to access only the fringes. A massive campaign would have to be undertaken to bore fresh wells at pre-designated sites to provide immediate succor.

Desalination of soil
There was no way dredging could be done over such a vast area. It was left to the elements of nature to dry the entire area; this took a long time. But, how would the locals restore the fertility of the erstwhile highly productive areas? I still wonder. In case the land remained adversely affected by the sea water, how long did it take for it to be restored to its productive state – with or without Government intervention? Associated with this is the problem of seeds for sowing as the available stocks with the locals were destroyed.

Compensation
Who would get the monetary & material compensation & on what basis? Hardly any one survived in the worst hit areas. Many were lone survivors. Some were children who were huddled inside the cyclone shelters. In a way every one was orphaned in one way or the other. Verification of claimants would be a daunting task. The Revenue officials would literally play the role of God – or the Devil! There would be no trace of any land documents with the survivors.
Who owned a mud & wattle/thatched hut? Who owned a house with a brick wall with a thatched roof & who owned a concrete house? Who owned cattle & how many? Would the compensation be on a uniform scale for everyone across the board?
The first assistance the survivors needed, to start the difficult journey to self reliance is livestock. After all they, almost all, had cows, buffaloes, bullocks etc. None of these survived. The Government must provide these at whatever arrangement – free or on some easy installments or heavily subsidized. I heard the matter being discussed while I was there. There was a suggestion that bullocks were most essential – to plough the fields once the salinity problem was solved. Where would they come from? Someone suggested that they would be brought from other states. Would these creatures quickly adapt themselves to the local humid conditions? I wonder, in retrospect, how the locals procured cattle for themselves or, to put it correctly, how the Government assisted in providing them because milk & milk products are daily necessities of the rural folk.
This aspect of cattle brings forth another allied problem – fodder. Since all vegetation had been destroyed or rendered useless, where would the fodder come from? Again someone suggested that it would come from neighboring states. In this grim discussion on a somber occasion there was a brief humorous interlude. The reason was – fodder from Bihar!
Surely, the peasants must have owned some poultry in every household. Shouldn’t some immediate steps be taken to provide them with some roosters & hens so that they are provided some immediate means to feed themselves?

Orphans
What was the mechanism within the armory of the State Government to take care of the orphans, infants & young girls – not that the elderly old & infirm did not need care & rehabilitation? The former needed more care because I had heard of some cases of attempted molestation & trafficking. Who would be entrusted with their care - that too on a long term basis? It is very easy & elevating to go to such areas for short durations & return to the safe & secure environment where we live. To stay longer in the devastated areas to rehabilitate, to provide emotional support, to alleviate the mental trauma, to finally secure a profitable qualification & job & marriage is another cup of tea. Obviously this can be done, & must be done by the locals themselves for obvious reasons as outside agencies & volunteers must return to their own jobs & businesses. I wonder how well this aspect was looked after. I am fully aware of the fact that many voluntary organizations perform best when under the arc lights of the media. Once this is absent, the same humanitarian job loses its sheen & glamour. Some NGOs collect adequate data & visuals to meet their requirements of further funding. Their reports are impressive & statistics voluminous. It would be interesting to carry out a ground audit of their claims to have bored wells etc.

Education
Local schools & colleges were disrupted. Students lost al their books & perhaps their notebooks too. The young lady I mentioned earlier in this article was doing her graduation. She had lost all her family members. She was, at that moment in dire need of clothes to protect her modesty. Who would provide her books & the college fees? Like her, there were many students who shared the same plight. How did the Government overcome this problem, or did they? How long did it take for normal schools & colleges to resume functioning?

Construction of Cyclone Shelters
Did you read The Seventh Secret by Irving Wallace? If you have time, do read it. You will appreciate what I intend to convey. Hitler is said to have created underground structures, for himself, at seven places. Well, I don’t imply that the Orissa State Government create subterranean townships at prohibitive cost. Instead, strong & fully self sufficient Cyclone shelter domes should be created after a Systems Analysis in the Cyclone affected areas based on past experience. In this manner precious lives of citizens & livestock can be saved.

Medical Cover
The initial medical cover was provided by the Army Field Hospitals. I remember at least two such units were flown in & deployed. One was deployed short of Ersama. When we left, these units stayed on a little longer. Their hands were full with patients streaming in, not only from the east but also from the west! However this medical assistance was needed right till normalcy was restored. Locals had to be immunized against the kind of infection that accompanies contaminated water, poor sanitation, mal-nourishment, heat & high humidity etc. Infants required proper nourishment while women needed pre& post natal care. This was an awesome task that needed monitoring at the highest possible level.
All the aforementioned actions had to be taken by the State Government on a war footing so as to provide the basic infrastructure well before the onset of the forthcoming monsoon season. The reader will appreciate that not all was possible within this time frame though work had started in earnest.

Regeneration of Vegetation
Concurrent action would have to be taken to provide coconut saplings for plantation as all standing trees had been leveled in the manner described earlier. Whatever forest cover there was had been either destroyed or had suffered serious damage. All this would need immediate attention of the Government.
I do not know if Mangrove growth along the coast, in certain areas, had been cleared in the past for prawn cultivation. I heard some wise people comment about the important role played by Mangrove swamps in mitigating the otherwise violent impact of any cyclone or tsunami.

Early Warning System
Unless all available warning systems are integrated to provide real time information to the people, human lives will be lost in such like disasters. Where & how did we go wrong in our estimates & predictions in Orissa? Even if the threat appeared to be veering off towards the North, there was no harm in taking precautionary measures. In such cases on should err on the plus side. I would go further to state that in such cases one should view the situation as a pessimist. Many readers may not concur with my observation in this regard.

Conclusion
This brings me to the end of my personal experience in Orissa. Whenever I meet an Oriya, I rarely miss the opportunity to mention that I too am an Oriya – purely because of my association with the aftermath of the Super Cyclone. In the process I usually end up engaging my unwary victim for at least half an hour narrating my eye witness account of the Rescue & Relief Operation. My last victims were Col CP Singh & his elegant wife, whom I waylaid at Doon during the Territorial Army Silver Jubilee Dinner. To that extent I treat a Bihari to a similar menu as I was closely associated with Flood Relief in North Bihar. Just as I have penned my Orissa account, so too I have committed my experience of battling for the annual flood victims of North Bihar.
I long to return & see what normalcy looks like; how the people have picked shattered pieces of life & hobbled back to life. Various NGOs, from within & without, seem to have done a magnificent job after we left. My only regret is that such assistance did not arrive in good time; it must follow the Armed Forces’ advancing columns to based on accurate estimates of the relief required; relief must reach the needy & not the other way around. I wonder if we will ever learn from our past experience; I wonder if pseudo Disaster Managers will again dominate the show after the difficult & hazardous job is over. We referred to these loud mouthed, managers as “Disastrous Managers” in lighter vein. Have you heard the old song “Blowin’ in the Wind”? If you haven’t, you must listen to it.
I have deliberately not ended this piece by penning down the lessons learnt. I have written exactly in the manner the thoughts have flowed in my mind - of events almost eight years old but fresh in my mind because of the traumatic memories I carry. Consequently I feel I have unburdened the heavy load from my mind by sharing it with you. The entire article is in a narrative form – just as I intend. For the serious student of Disaster Management, lessons are strewn all over the script.

Comments

Year after year, the visuals of marooned people, particularly east UP & Bihar are disturbing to watch. Why, you may or ought to wonder, doesn’t anyone do something about it? Don’t science & technology, & wealth of modern India have a permanent solution to at least mitigate this recurring annual suffering if not totally eradicate it? So far, measures, if any, taken in this regard seem to have been ineffective. In fact, they have compounded the suffering as we shall soon reveal. Let us examine the issue in totality & historically to reveal the various facets of floods in this region.

Is this phenomenon a natural one or man made? Today, we can say that it is both. However, for centuries in the past, these areas & the banks of the mighty Ganga have been witness to flooding. Excessive rainfall in what now constitutes Uttarakhand & astride the course of Ganga & Yamuna has always been one constant factor, the impact of which was historically felt right up to Bangla Desh since time immemorial. This situation was further aggravated by similar downpours in Nepal whose rivers drain into UP & Bihar. Why, you may ask, wasn’t this scourge a prominent subject to be recorded in the annals of history? Did the people dwelling in the effected areas suffer loss of dwellings, livestock, food grain & human life? Was there any such loss suffered year after year by these people? Did they have to rebuild their hutments, replenish their livestock, & procure food grain for eating & sowing year after year? Or, did they show foresight & resilience to over come the scourge of floods? These are relevant questions. Why has the magnitude of the problem suddenly become so large that the local Army formations have to keep several Internal Security Columns of Infantry & Engineers, along with other support services, as well as Air Force helicopters in readiness to move in aid of the local government? Aid of this nature has become a matter of routine. It may appear unique as a state of direst emergency to the newly posted army commanders in the chain of command justifying imminent extension of aid to the marooned victims.

The entire subject was deftly dealt with by Mr. Laloo Prasad Yadav when he explained the matter in his characteristic but convincing rustic style. I respect his opinion in matters relating to life in Bihar for obvious reasons. I wish to share his views on this subject.

Mr. Laloo confided that indeed, his people were quite used to the ravages of flood. It was not a new phenomenon they were confronting. They in turn had learnt to effectively cope with such situations, including the worst scenarios. How? We shall explain later. In the very early stages when humans had not applied the modern scientific techniques to tame the rising waters, there was no real impediment to the flood waters. Thus, all the water overflowing the Ganges, Ghagara, Jharahi, Daha, Gandaki, Dhamati or Dhamahi, Siahi, Nikari, Sona, Gandak, Burhi Gandak, Kosi etc spread evenly all over north Bihar. In this manner the effect of flood water was swiftly spread over the entire region. Pointing to his knees, he said that the water rarely rose above that level. The rich alluvial soil spread evenly all over, returning bumper crops in the following cropping season. (The latter claim is true even today as corroborated by a local army doctor who owns large tracts of land. The doctor reiterated that they merely sowed seeds without tilling the soil!).

The locals, with generations of experience, had studied the behavior of the rivers during the monsoons to correctly gauge the maximum height of the surging waters. Accordingly, they raised a small mound high & large enough to accommodate their hutment, livestock & food grain for up to six months. Seems plausible as in the earlier times there was no Air Force or Army rescue & relief column, or engineer boats with OBMs to depend on.

When I asked him how they coped with their drinking water problem, he said that each of such hillocks had a well in the centre that provided them water. I have seen the entire stretch of northern Bihar, from west to east reduced to a massive lake dotted with countless islands like the ones Mr. Laloo described. Indeed these hillocks were above the water level. The prevailing winds were so strong that our Army engineers found the resultant waves unsafe to launch their boats for rescue & relief. The locals were sagacious enough to even raise portions of the cart track leading to their village to the same level to allow safety to the marooned if required. This helped our operation as the Air Force helicopters aligned their flight in line with these tracks & dropped the relief supplies along it. Mr. Laloo also revealed that the locals could survive for fairly long period on Sattu & Chana.

If that be the case, why has it lately become imperative to annually clamor for hundreds of crores of rupees as relief from the Centre accompanied by immediate demand for aid from military authorities? Here are some more interesting facts. Much of the land north of the Ganges is owned by powerful landlords. As per Mr. Laloo, some decades back a modern technique was applied to arrest the problem. How & why it was approved & implemented baffles me. A massive exercise was undertaken to construct concrete or stone filled bunds along the course of the major tributaries of the Ganges, which flowed from the Nepal border into Bihar! This had two highly adverse repercussions. Firstly, all the water canalized into constricted canal suddenly swelled the waters of the Ganges & naturally created havoc. Secondly, the land north of the Ganges was deprived of the rich alluvial soil. Land thus gradually became infertile & fallow. Thus, some affected parties deliberately breached the bunds contiguous to their land. Over a period of time these bunds no longer served their purpose. Mr. Laloo expressed dissent for this project for the various reasons just listed.

Mr. Laloo once remarked in jest that the people here do not want roads & electricity. What would happen to these roads if they were submerged under water for months? Also what would happen to the electric poles & lines under these circumstances? When I visited a Kargil widow’s home north of Darbhanga, I asked this question to a local. He emphatically stated what Mr. Laloo had said. “What will we do with vehicles on these mud tracks? What we need is bullock carts & lanterns”. No, he was not being sarcastic. He was earnest about it. His bullock cart navigated with greater ease than my jeep!

While the Homo sapiens are planning for Mars, how can we tame the forces of nature here? Well, in Bihar something enormous has been done in the past to protect Patna. For miles, the bank astride the Ganga has been protected by a massive concrete wall. It has sluice gates to allow water to drain into the Ganges from the south towards the north. When the Ganga is in spate, these sluice gates are shut. Piles of sand bags are placed to reinforce the gates. This gives rise to another problem. The rain water of the city collects within the city converting individual colonies to be waterlogged fro months. The same logic, Mr. Laloo’s, applies here too. Earlier Patna was not as sprawling as it is today. (Asia’s largest residential colony is within Patna. It’s called Kankarbagh. Interestingly, all its roads are nothing better than “kankar” or stones. Yet most houses are truly posh, opulent & spotlessly clean within their four walls. All their garbage is dumped on the road which is not their concern – so much like Doon!). Thus several colonies are inundated for the entire duration of Monsoons. So, in the past water spread all over evenly, even though the entire area was water logged. Now, this natural drainage is impeded & hence myriad problems arise relating to water pollution, mosquitoes, & heavy fog in the winters disrupting air traffic. (I once traveled from Delhi to Patna to find myself back at Delhi! On another occasion I had a free trip to Kolkata thanks to the fog).

Once again I quote Dr. Satendra Singh IFS as it is so relevant to the problems Patna faces due to flooding. Here unplanned or uncoordinated development has been accompanied by disaster! A highway cuts across the southern limits of Patna in west-easterly direction. It is an elevated highway almost as high as the second floor of neighboring houses. For miles there is no channel to allow water from the south to drain into the Ganges that lies north – its natural course is blocked by colonies & individual boundary walls. Astride this highway I have seen people commute by boats from their water logged homes to the road!

To me, as things stand today, a solution to the floods in east UP & Bihar is as frustrating as the solution to flooding in Mumbai. After all, one can’t empty the water in the latter case into the Arabian Sea. Likewise, the Ganges which is itself swollen, cannot accept the flood waters of its tributaries. Man has chosen to dwell in areas that are water-logged marshes during the monsoons. These marshes have been the traditional feeding grounds for the migratory Asian Openbill Stork, Anastomus oscitans, for time immemorial. They feed on the abundant supply of mollusks, frogs & insects, & nest in close clusters on Ficus (Pilkan) trees within Danapur (earlier known as Little England). The citizens of Patna & surrounding areas will obviously have to adopt the lifestyle of this stork – wade through water-logged marshy land for several months in a year.

I have first hand experience about the other form of relief provided during floods that must be eating up most of the aid provided by the Centre. During a reconnaissance mission, I landed at a location not far from Gorakhpur, close to the flooded area on the border of UP & Bihar. A police jeep took me to one site of a breach in the bund. I walked up to the very site of breach. The concerned Secretary of Bihar, a lady, some Mrs. Singh was at the breach sitting under blue polyurethane sheet! I was very impressed. The breach was about 100 yards wide & threatening to expand every hour. The force of the disgorging water was so strong that all the boulders that were being dropped to bridge the gap were being swept hundreds of yards away. In this manner several truck loads of boulders were rendered useless. Another experiment was undertaken. With the help of boats, the workers labored hard & erected a parallel row of bamboo fence downstream of the breach. Having done that, they now ferried boulders in boats & dropped them between the bamboo barricades. Thus the force of the gushing water from the mouth of the breach was somewhat reduced. Now they had the difficult task of plugging the actual breach. Glancing at the expanse lying ahead of me in the east I could see nothing but murky water heavily laden with alluvial soil from the upper tracts. As I was to do an aerial survey of the flood affected area to allocate Army resources, I took leave from this courageous lady Secretary whose unpleasant & seemingly impossible job was to plug the gap & account for unlimited trucks of boulders.

On the way back, the police driver shocked me by stating that, on paper, several hundred truck loads of boulders are shown as relief while in actuality only a small percentage is delivered. This he said was an annual feature. I refuse to believe this. How can anyone squander & misappropriate crores of Rupees released as aid for the flood victims?

As you may have concluded, the problem of floods in Bihar & eastern UP defies solution. The purpose of this article is not to scoff at Bihar’s demand for aid during floods. Far from it, I wish to suggest some more effective measures to ensure that aid, in whatever form reaches almost all those marooned, with minimum cost without resorting to the insufficient aid flown & dropped by helicopters. During the floods surface transport is restricted to travel by boats. Helicopters cannot land anywhere in the vast expanse of sea in north Bihar. Obviously relief cannot reach all the affected people. A large number of needy marooned villagers do not get relief. The state Government, at the end of helicopter sorties & deployment of Army columns pat their backs for a job well done. Files are closed to be opened next year & every following year.

The relief material consists of waterproof gunny bags, of uniform weight (perhaps 5 to 8 kgs each?) containing sattu, chana, jaggery, candles, match boxes & other such like useful items. Air Force helicopters are loaded with this cargo to be dropped at various marooned villages. The crew must ensure that the bags do not land on the frenzied crowd below, or into the water. Often the latter happens & occasionally the former. Sometimes a small stretch of elevated track leading to the village is available. It is here that a fairly large crowd is often gathered to grab the maximum bags. The helicopter takes a circuit to align itself to this track to offload the cargo along its length. Darwin’s theory – survival of the fittest – is on full display. The strongest of the boys always manage to retrieve the maximum bags. The old, women & children stand empty handed in despair while the helicopter moves to another location. I always wondered what the fate was of the old, infirm, & women folk who did not have such able bodied husbands or sons! Young men can be seen diving fearlessly into the water to retrieve the bags – some of which inevitably fall into it. How can relief be provided to all the needy in the given time? There is limit to the number of helicopter sorties & Army boats that can be provided. So, how can we be sure that relief has reached, at least, most of the people? The present system in vogue is an avoidable burden on the exchequer.

Since annual floods are sure to occur in Bihar, just as sure as the sunrise tomorrow morning, I would recommend that relief material, duly packed, based on the number in each household, is moved by road during the dry season, before the onset of rains, & distributed to the villages under proper supervision. It will cost much less to the Centre & State. Even after this pro-active step is taken towards mitigation of woes due to floods, aid from Army/Air force must continue but with one exception – it will be target specific, surgical & effective.

As stated by Mr. Laloo, getting marooned is no big deal for the locals. They have spent whole generations & life coping with it & rarely drown unless a boat capsizes. Not only do they co-exist with rising waters but also with a variety of snakes in the same trees that provide the only dry place to man & reptiles in emergent cases. This relief provided is nothing but a hedge against unusual circumstances of acute shortage. It must be continued. The landlords may be affluent, probably living in safer areas, but the locals live under most adverse weather conditions & general deprivation. Hence, till such time floods recur, all possible steps should be taken to alleviate their problems prudently – not like a “Seagull Manager” who flies in, makes a lot of noise, craps all over & flies out!

Comments

Lt Col S Sridhar (Retd) has brought happy tidings for citizens of Doon grappling the problems of pollution. He is a retired Gunner Officer who is working as a Management Coordinator for Development Alternatives (DA) at Delhi. The website is http://www.devalt.org. DA has been in existence for 25 years & has undertaken many projects. Waste Paper Recycling Technology Package is one them of which Heritage School & RIMC are beneficiaries. It is a technology to clean the environment while converting waste paper that is often burnt, into useful products. In the process precious trees are saved from fuelling demand for raw material for the paper industry.

The packages available are designed for Urban & Rural Schools. A Community package is also designed for use by small groups of people. Essentially the package consists of:-
Mechanical Hydra-Pulper.
Univat.
Coaching Table.
Universal Screw Press.
Calendering Machine.

DA imparts all training necessary for operating the equipment & production of paper. DA has provided Rs 3.6 lakhs worth of equipment free of cost to the above mentioned schools. It is strongly recommended that all large institutions, Government owned or not, who churn out large quantities of waste paper, some of which may be Confidential, opt for such a package to obviate burning paper & in turn covert it into a variety of useful stationery like folders, file covers, assorted greeting cards & objects de art, thus saving revenue every year.

DA is supported by the Ministry of Science & Technology, as also it is funded from abroad. Thus there is a high degree of accountability resting on the shoulders of its employees. The package is in use in several schools, operated wholly by students, in Delhi as well as in Mrs. Shiela Dixit’s Secretariat. With the number & sheer size of Doon’s institutions such like packages will prove to be most useful. Not only will these institutions efficiently dispose off their waste paper without causing any pollution, they will make the children in particular & people in general conscious about the need to preserve our environment.

Apart from this package, DA also has other packages to make Fuel Briquettes out of Lantana twigs. Lantana, as you all know, is a highly invasive shrub & grows all along the railway track, astride the Rajaji National Park from Lacchiwala to short of Hardwar. The objective is, once again, to save the trees that are hewn to convert into wood coal - a noble objective indeed. Shouldn’t the Forest Department consider this seriously? It would save trees, provide relatively cheaper fuel for cooking & drying, put the Lantana menace into good use, & equally important, provide profitable employment to people living on the fringes of our reserved forests & economic prosperity.
Another very useful product DA offers will be a boon for the entire hill region of Uttarakhand. Recall the spate of water borne disease & deaths in Naugam-Barkot area as well as other regions in the recent past? Evidently drinking water is not being tested nor is it being treated. I know for sure as no such thing is being done in my own native place where my fellow hilly-billys drink whatever the local springs or streams offer. DA, I am informed offers a complete, portable package to locally test the water for any kind of contamination. Accordingly the water can then be treated according to its needs rather than uniformly treating all water with the same chemical even where it is not required. Lt Col Sridhar has, on more than one occasion, asked me to project the specific common problems of the people, for presentation to the top brass of DA to enable them to see what they can contribute to alleviate the hardship faced by the locals. Being a lay man I seek active cooperation from the intelligentsia of Uttaranchal, including those abroad, in the form of concrete suggestions and/or participation. (Please note-this not an appeal for money).

Hats off to the organizers who held the “Workshop on Grassroots Innovations” at IIP on 23 Jul. As reported, most appliances were related to chulas & stoves. I understand that scientists of IIP render help in improving innovations. Well, here is where I can start. DA too has several experts working on various projects. We can seek help from IIP as well as from the team of engineers & other qualified people of DA to tackle the biggest health hazard facing the hill people. Due to lack of education, or the over riding need to keep warm, all cooking is done inside the house in an open hearth without any chimney or window or ventilator. In 1957, I saw this. There is no change today! I had to crawl on all fours to enter the room as wood smoke had filled all but one to two feet of the bottom space of the room. Why do they do this? I am told that this is necessary to maintain the life of the wooden superstructure of the ceiling, as this enhances its life due to smoking, over which slates are laid. What is the net result of all this? You have rightly guessed it. Almost all my folk are prone to TB. Many have failed to clear their Medical Screening during enrolment. It is anybody’s guess as to how many men, women & children are suffering or will suffer on account of this. Can we seek DA’s help, & that of IIP, to devise a suitable solution to this problem? When we have solved this problem we will be faced with a more daunting one i.e. getting the people to accept it at whatever cost.

Finally, God forbid, if a massive disaster hit our region, DA can cater to the needs of Low Cost Housing – as it is currently doing in the Tsunami ravaged coastal areas of Tamil Nadi where my friend Maj Gen D P Merchant is currently employed for the purpose.

Taking the baton from here, will someone highlight the dangers of Congress Grass & how we all must tackle it on a war footing to provide succor to citizens who are asthmatic or suffer from agonizing allergy resulting in running nose, watery eyes, non-stop sneezing & much more? This plant is in full bloom at the moment. It’s too late now to take any action. And, oh, by the way if you want to see it thriving, do visit Defense Colony. I am sure other residential colonies of Doon too can boast of the same or a better harvest!

Till these measures are adopted, “Happy Paper Burning, Sneezing, Sniffing (over & above what Ekta’s Soap causes), Coughing & Cutting of Trees”.

Comments

What has been the reaction of readers of this article? I for one am keen to know – reactions of all communities of this nation. Feroz Bakht Ahmed has had the conviction backed by guts to air his views. The subject, lately, has caught my attention & will remain my life long obsession. Lately such expressions by our Muslim citizens have been gripping my attention. It is about respect for other’s faith, customs, rituals, beliefs, practices etc. This is important for the modern day. Why one may ask? Here are some reasons.
Firstly, & most importantly, it promotes inter faith love & harmony in a manner no political party can or will do. Even if they try, the public will dismiss it as a gimmick - a gimmick in all probability it will be. However, when ordinary apolitical citizens, who have no sinister motives, take a small step in this direction they may not realize that they are actually treading on the footsteps of the venerated saints of this sub-continent & of the Middle East to promote the message of love & peace that are scarce commodities today. Feroz Bakht Ahmed has just done that. If there seems to be peace prevailing, hark, it is pregnant with hatred & violence. I, though do not boast of any in depth literary knowledge on Ramayana, Mahabharata or any other venerated scripture, feel that I will be expressing sentiments on behalf of all of my faith when I write that I deeply appreciate what Feroz Bakht Ahmed has written. Your words launch the second historic “Sputnik”. May many more follow.
Secondly, Feroz Bakht Ahmed seems to be the only man in this sub continent who has truly imbibed the spirit of this peninsula. This peninsula has been adopted as a permanent abode my multitudes that came from distant lands even if they came with swords or olive leaves. They have coexisted & flourished. Diverse cultures, languages, scripts, religions, beliefs, customs etc have survived even to this day. The mantra was assimilation, adjustment, cooperation, dialogue, reconciliation, accommodation, tolerance, & respect for other’s faith. This is a message we seem to have forgotten. Where diverse faiths lived in harmony in the past: where there was little trace of xenophobia, there is dismemberment of the society today by political divides. Spell out the names of the political parties & the message will be loud & clear.
Lastly Feroz, your name has been entered in Abu Ben Adhem’s Visitors’ Book.

Comments

Uttarakhand has seen rapid changes, good & bad, in a short span of time. For an old resident of Doon, it seems that time stood still for several decades since independence till the formation of the new state. The grey headed & bald like me will agree when I state that Doon nodded & snored for several decades. Suddenly the entrepreneurs, mostly from outside Uttarakhand, seem to have energized the snoring residents to partake in the bonanza while the going was good. Have you taken note of the boom in the business of education? Schools with fancy names & unheard of luxury have mushroomed within the city as well in the suburbs. One doesn’t have to labor much to give the school a name. International as a prefix or suffix is good enough. Add to it the name of any continent, or better still some weed, flower or tree & you’re in business. The recently established schools attempt to eclipse the old reputed ones. Good & experienced teachers, who are scarce, are being poached upon by new schools within & outside the Doon valley. This is not the only problem. With the relentless mushrooming population, existing schools in the heart of the capital are under ever increasing pressure to admit more & more children. In turn, these schools that are already cramped for space have not only exhausted the horizontal space but have also resorted to vertical expansion. Ironically, the space outside the schools remains constant. This is where all the school buses, cars, scooters & mo-bikes, & the school children & parents compete for space causing severe disruption to smooth flow of traffic. Between St Joseph’s Academy, St Thomas’, Convent of Jesus & Mary, Marshall School, Brightlands, Riverdale & other schools literally hold traffic to ransom during opening & closing hours.
Apart from schools within the heart of the city, there are many more private schools spread out - some in quite remote areas. Most of these schools are residential. Add to this list of schools the various professional training institutes, as well as all the government colleges, secondary & primary schools. The list & number will be staggering. One can imagine the number of assorted schools & students in the whole of Uttarakhand. The question is whether our children are indeed safe within the college & school buildings from the inevitable risk of a severe earthquake? How safe are the buildings? Have any safety norms been compromised? How well prepared are the schools themselves to cope with such a disaster should it strike during school hours? How prepared are the various wings of the civil administration to carry out relief measures? Will the limited space outside & within the school, & the traffic congestion, enable any rescuers to even enter the schools, leave alone reach the disaster site within the school? How many schools are, as on date, highly vulnerable to a severe earthquake? Has a zonal survey been carried out by those whose duty it is to identify those buildings of each school/college that are indeed highly unsafe & need to be abandoned & demolished, those that need retrofitting/refurbishing & those that are safe? One hopes the common citizen’s apprehensions are ill placed & that all stakeholders, i.e. the Government, schools & institutions, parents & children are fully prepared in all respects to mitigate, if not eliminate, the effects of such a disaster.
Apart from a possible earthquake, one must consider the possibility of extremists taking hostage of children & staff simultaneously at more than one school at several widely separated schools in Mussoorie & Dehra Dun? Remember that the unfortunate traumatic event at Beslan can be repeated here too. On 1 Sep 2002 Chechen rebels took more than 1200 children & adults hostage in School Number One in the town of Beslan, North Ossetia-Alania in the North Caucasus Region of the Russian Federation. Given the congestion at Doon & choke points that By-Passes around Doon must use, one wonders how Relief & Rescue operations at widely separated areas within the city & outside will be progressed in a man - made or natural disaster.
Studies reveal that the cost of re-construction/retrofitting/ refurbishing is prohibitive even in advanced countries. Thus developing countries have a far more daunting task because of socio-economic conditions. We are still grappling with the task of school for every child, roti, kapada, makan, potable drinking water, basic medical care etc. Reconstruction of earthquake proof infrastructure for the existing Government school is far cry. Nevertheless that should not detract us from seeking measures to mitigate the effects of an earthquake. The emphasis is on school children in such a disaster as it has been prudently highlighted that children are our greatest asset. Their safety & protection is therefore our foremost concern.
Far more needs & remains to be written on this subject as it pertains to us, in Uttarakhand. Those in power & other stake holders must generate not only the desired awareness but also evolve a holistic plan to tackle such eventualities. A reasonable plan of action would need multi-disciplinary indulgence of the administration, architects, engineers, contractors, workers, fire – fighters, managers of traffic, medical professionals, all security agencies, heads of educational institutions, teachers, parents & finally the students. Any work in this regard, howsoever limited will be a step in the right direction. I hope this article will not trigger jaunts to past earthquake ravaged sites in Italy, Turkey, Algeria, Portugal, Venezuela, New Zealand & many such exotic countries in the world but even if it does, it will still be worth it.

Comments

My dear friends,
What has happened in Doon over the last weekend has deeply pained me. No. Don’t put down this paper. Please read. I have the same blood flowing through my veins as yours. I too am a Rawat. Well for that matter I could even be a Negi, Bhandari, Kukreti, Raturi or any other Garhwali. Like you I too represent the proud lineage of our ancestors, the Munda, Kole, Kirats, Khasas, Sakas, Tangana, Partabana, Naga & Huns of the early past. I could be Brahmin, Rajput or a Shilpkar. I could be Asli Rajput or Khas Rajput or Khas Jimdar. I could be a Sarola or Gangari Brahmin. Remember, we are Garhwalis. We have earned name & fame at home & overseas. You have Madho Singh Bhandari, Sub Maj Balbhadra Sigh Negi IDSM, IOM, Rfn Gabar Singh VC, and Naik Darwan SinghVC as your fearless gallant icons of our glorious past valor. None of these heroes could have etched a glorious name for themselves without discipline & devotion to duty. I am afraid I feel humiliated to see our names, now entering the portals of those who are being viewed as hooligans, which I am sure, at heart you are not. Individually none of you would have done what is alleged to have been done. Why have you allowed yourselves to be drawn into it?
After your victory, you could have celebrated at an appropriate place with due consideration for your fellow citizens. By choosing to celebrate in a very busy commercial area, you have, & have been in the past, causing great inconvenience to others. If all organizations that gain any form of success or victory choose to celebrate in this manner, in congested public places, then I am afraid, soon, the streets will be empty because of fear. I am sure this is not your purpose. This will not be the Uttarakhand you want to project to domestic & foreign tourists?
I do not hesitate to write that this episode has seriously damaged the image of the party you belong to. Let your MLAs support you & prosecute the police officer. Your party may have to pay a very heavy price sooner than expected. I term your act as a “Self Goal”. Your opposition is cheering on the sidelines. You are bringing to naught what the General is trying to do at Dhumakot!
I therefore appeal to you to publicly appreciate this police officer who was doing his duty – maybe he went a little overboard. But think. The police have to do justice to the traders as well as you. In this case it was the trader who was at the receiving end. Remember, when the battle is lost, it is General who loses his job. In this one sided battle your army waged, you were not there but you as a General are answerable. Allow the public to appreciate that you stepped forward to quell your over-exuberant soldiers. Withdraw your demand to proceed against the Kotwal. Accept part of you responsibility publicly. It may well be true that the President of ABVP was the victim of stern police action. Be magnanimous. The whole of Doon will give you a standing ovation if you do so.
Listen to this advice. We the Armed Forces War Veterans are willing to address you to apprise you of your great & glorious history of honesty, discipline & devotion to duty. We are not selling any political agenda – only good sense & cause. We shall await a call from you. We wait.
Meanwhile please focus on the following campaigns:-
1. Total ban on bandhs.
2. Protect the girls in educational institutions, & women on the roads against motor cycle borne chain snatchers.
3. Help prevent littering.
4. Help in adherence to traffic rules.
5. Help law enforcement agencies to detect/report potential crime. I am sure YOU will be in the forefront if & when disaster in terms of terrorist attacks & natural disaster strikes. We shall depend on you to as speedily reach the disaster site as fast as your soldiers navigate the busy streets today.
6. Lastly, pursue studies. Politics, Thekedari, Property Dealership will not make Uttarakhand or India “Shine”. Your humble parents have sent you here for studies. Get down to that first.
If you do not change your attitude & focus you can rest assured that Bill Gates & such like personalities will NEVER visit Uttarakhand. The loss will be that of the people of this land.
Your well wisher
RS Rawat

Comments

The Dharampur vegetable market is astride a busy highway. People park their cars & two-wheelers in front of the shops. Bus drivers too halt at this crossing to disgorge their passengers. Police & Home Guard personnel helplessly stand wringing their hands clamoring that no one listens. I listen & park my car where the Havildar directs. I ask him why others have not complied. “Nobody listens,” he says. Once, he tried to penalize a traffic offender. A crowd of 300 gathered against him. The offender threatened him saying, “Officers senior to you salute me. I will have you suspended.” I say, “Why don’t you report your difficulties to your seniors, your DIG, IG or DGP?” “They don’t listen” he says. Just then, a Maruti car pulls up, parks right in front of us, while the police holds a Chalaan Book. I ask this man why he is violating the rule. “Oh, I’m just getting some vegetables,” he says & ignoring the police enters the shop! Having finished his business he drives away without as much as saying thank you to the police. This is the situation all over Doon, the Capital of Uttarakhand. Law abiding citizens see such blatant violations with raised eyebrows. Some of them, who commute regularly, have developed a “permanent raised eyebrow” expression! It is useful for all transactions in Doon. No one listens!
I went to a posh store in Nashville Road. A bottle of Johnson Massage Oil was purchased for Rs 160. On coming home my daughter–in–law discovered that it cost Rs90 in Mumbai! The suave salesman later told us the rationale of taxes, 12.5% etc due to which it is almost twice as costly as in Mumbai. Thank you Uttarakhand- for this distinction. Why should things be so expensive? No one listen. No one cares.
Once at Doon Hospital crossing, I saw a traffic violator hauled up by a Home Guard jawan. The entire traffic witnessed this drama. The scooterist was finally heard saying, “Abe kya kar lega tu? Mein tujhe dekh loonga” & drove off. I silently applauded & saluted this law enforcer. If such be the attitude of educated citizens, I am inclined to sympathize with the DGP. But, I won’t. What would Kiran Bedi have done in her place? So we are back to square one – No one listens!
I have seen a very senior female citizen knocked down on Rajpur road by a speeding motorcyclist, who just peeped back & breezed off. Cry my Doon, cry. This no more a haven for you, UNLESS people listen to SOMEONE? Pray, who is that someone?
Some one in Doon is listened to. Are you surprised? I will any day welcome him, or people like him to don the mantle of the CM, DGP, DM, Mayor, MNA or Chief Medical Officer. I know that readers will hurl brickbats at me. I’ll take it. But you first read this.
I was indeed very pleased that the entire Muslim community of Doon listened to Ulema Ikram’s appeal, not to light crackers on Shab-e-Arbat. There was no lighting of crackers. Why am I celebrating this? I do not know why the Ulema appealed. I for one strongly feel that we have adequately polluted the Earth. Diwali is fast approaching. The whole Doon valley air will be replaced by noxious fumes of crackers. Some successful citizens consider it a matter of pride to ensure that in their compound, or outside their house, on the road, crackers create a din for two to three hours continuously! It shows how rich they are. Very aged citizens cannot sleep a wink. These revelers don’t care a damn. Will they listen? They will not. They will soon be given company by marriage celebrations in breaking the law in openly drinking, lighting crackers & discoing well beyond the stipulated decibel level & time!
Common citizens & beasts suffer. My pet Jinny, a chocolate Cocker Spaniel, vomits & defecates simultaneously on hearing the crackers. How I wish I could camp away from civilization during Diwali & marriage season. I can’t. My aged parents can’t be left behind. So, cry ye old citizens while others revel late into the night.
I spent hours & days at the office of Pollution Control. After meeting several babus I met the officer who sat in an airtight Air –Conditioned office that was filled with cigarette smoke! As I settled in the chair he lit a fresh one!
I wish I could meet Ulema Ikram to pay my sincere complements to him, with an appeal to him to take charge of other hopeless & rudderless departments of Uttarakhand.

Comments

(1829 - 1893)
(Translated from Mr Bhakta Darshan’s book on outstanding personalities of Garhwal – “Garhwal Ki Dewangat Vibhutian”)

1. “A nation which can produce men like Balbhadra Singh Negi, must have a Battalion of their own” (Ek jaati jo Balbhadra Singh Negi sarikhe purushon ko paida karti hai, use apni ek battalion awashya milni chahiye)

2. The words of India’s Jangi Laat Lord Roberts are attributed to that man who was born in 1829 in Pauri Garhwal, Patti Aswalsyun, village Haida Kholi. His father Dhan Singh was a common man. Balbhadra was the middle one of the three sons. He was barely 17 years old when his father expired. He was thus compelled to face the harsh realities of life by leaving his home.

3. Those days there was no battalion of Garhwalis. They had to enroll in the Gurkha Battalions. 5 Gorkha Battalion was located at Abbotabad in the NWFP. At that time railways were nonexistent. After many days of walking & facing several difficulties, he arrived at Abbotabad in 1847 & was enrolled.

Progress in Military Career
4. He made speedy progress in the Army. It was a place & life far from his home. Those days there was a stigma on serving with the Gurkhas in the backdrop of the infamous “Gurkhyani” (the brutal atrocity ridden rule of the Gurkhas over Garhwal & Kumaon). In this environment it was not easy for a non-Gorkha to progress in his career. However Balbhadra served with enthusiasm & courage. He was a recruit, under training, for one year. After 13 months he became a Lance Naik. Shortly after he was a Havildar. During the 1857 mutiny he was a Havildar Major.

5. During the Afghan War he astonished all with his valor & intelligence. At that time the war veteran, Lord Roberts was appointed as Commander. The latter faced many difficulties initially. Afghans remained hidden in the rugged mountains. Whenever the British Army advanced, the Afghans surprised them by directing deadly volley of fire causing several casualties. No one knew which was the best & safest way to advance against the Afghans & which place was the most appropriate to concentrate maximum force to vanquish the enemy. The British High Command was deeply concerned about this.

6. Finally Balbhadra was summoned for this difficult task to surreptitiously find the secret to the Afghan tactics. He set out as a Pathan ascetic. (He was well versed with the local dialect- my comment from his manuscript biography). He lay amongst dead bodies for 7 days! Pathan warriors came & taking Balbhadra too to be dead, talked about their country, army, & military plans which the latter noted. At the end of 7 days he finally obtained the vital intelligence needed & safely made his way back to his camp. On the basis of this intelligence Lord Roberts made his plan & gained success. Lord Roberts remained forever enamored with Balbhadra’s intelligence & capability. On returning to England after retirement, he personally wrote about the aforementioned episode in his memoirs.

7. During the Afghan War, Balbhadra gave a befitting account of the valor of his kin. In 1879, in Afghanistan, his valor earned him the honor of “Order of Merit”. Next year near Kabul he again earned fame. The British Army was facing reverses in this vicinity. Despite this he took his Company into enemy lines, & after inflicting heavy casualties on them, returned to his camp safe & sound. In this encounter, an enemy bullet grazed his head thus wounding him. He was unaware of this till his colleague queried him about his blood stained uniform. Only then he was administered first aid. Next day he was again in the battlefield!

8. During the battle for Kandahar he was a Subedar. After the defensive battle for Kabul he was promoted to Subedar Major, the highest rank any Indian could aspire for. After this he was again decorated with “Order of Merit”. The C-in-C had proclaimed an award for “Sarvottam Sainik” (Outstanding Soldier?) which Balbhadra was honored with. Following this he was granted the “Order of British India” as a consequence of which he became “Sardar Bahadur”.

9. Later, Lord Roberts introduced a new appointment, i.e. Aide de Camp to the Jangi Laat (Lord Roberts), for Balbhadra which the latter held. Balbhadra was now referred to as “Laat Subedar”. This job entailed hardly any work. Yes, great respect & fame accompanied it. After five years as ADC, he proceeded on pension. For his immensely meritorious service he was gifted 1600 acres of land free of cost in village Ghosi Khatta of Kotdwara-Bhabhar.

Raising Of Garhwal Regiment
10. When the Gurkhas were defeated in 1815, & Garhwal came under British rule, the inherent valor of Garhwalis was unknown to the world. The British had never contemplated raising a separate Regiment of the Garhwalis. After some time they raised a “khichri paltan” comprising of Gorkhas, Garhwalis & Kumaonis –“Nasiri Sirmoor Kumaon Battalion”. The same was later named Gorkha Rifles. Garhwalis could only enroll in its five battalions. Thus the number of Garhwalis was low, & it was very difficult to achieve career progression.

11. Balbhadra had himself experienced the slim chances to progress in the Gurkha battalions for any Garhwali. Thus he often pondered over the possibilities of a separate Garhwal Battalion so that Garhwalis could earn a name for themselves, apart from providing employment for several youth. Fortunately he found an opportunity to realize his cherished wishes.

12. Balbhadra’s valor & soldierly qualities had found a permanent place in Lord Robert’s heart. Finding an opportune moment, in 1880, the former expressed his desire to Lord Roberts and the latter assured him of sympathetic consideration.

13. Regarding this matter, Lord Roberts initiated correspondence with Viceroy Lord Dufferin, & in one meeting, uttered the historical & memorable sentence which has been quoted at the beginning of this chapter. While Balbhadra was ADC, he remained obsessed with his vision. His efforts continued even after retirement. Even the Viceroy was skeptical about a small place like Garhwal’s capability to provide men for a battalion. Then, Balbhadra gave the assurance that if a military cantonment was established within Garhwal, the requisite men can be provided. On this note, the proposal was accepted.

14. Eventually, in 1887, some Sardars & soldiers of the Gorkha Regiment laid the foundation of The Garhwal Rifles at Lansdowne, under the command of Major Mainwaring on 4 Nov 1887, after the name of Viceroy Lord Lansdowne. Since then it has grown into a beautiful cantonment.

15. The battalion that was raised as a consequence of his efforts earned a great name in the Indian Army. (Briefly I translate) 1889- Niti; 1891- 39 Garhwal Regiment; 1904 – Lhasa Tibet; 1922 – Malabar Moplah Rebellion & later RGR.
1914-18. -------- ( I World War)
1935-45. ---------- (lists awards & decorations)
1925--------------- (Raising of bns, Brahmins & later Shilpkars too enrolled. Opened avenues for the entire cross-section of society of Garhwal for employment)
1939--------------- (Peshawar episode, 1942-45 INA)
Post Independence---- (J&K, NEFA, Indo Pak Wars, Bangla Desh etc)
(Now back to Balbhadra Singh Negi)

16. His retired life was very peaceful. He kept company with saadhus/ saints & spent time in service to others, prayers, fasting & meditation. Despite his age he bathed daily with cold water, applied sandalwood paste & prayed. He never consumed liquor, nor smoked. He drank tea rarely; only when it was bitterly cold. He was a stickler for time. He is a role model for the current day soldiers who claim that they cannot survive without meat & liquor! A man of exceptionally strong character he was.

17. What can one say about this brave man? When the Garhwal paltan was being raised, his eldest son Amar Singh Negi was given the first direct Viceroy Commission into the Regiment. The uniform of a Jemadar & a sword was handed over to him at his home with orders to assume the rank at the Centre, Lansdowne! He is the same Amar Singh who sustained a bullet wound in the thigh in the Burma War. A telegram was received by his father Balbhadra Singh Negi, “Your son wounded by bullet in thigh”. Promptly this veteran soldier replied,” If of any service to the Government, keep him, else shoot him”. At the same time he telegraphed to his son, “Don’t worry. If you come out alive you will earn fame. If you die, you will still earn fame!”

18. One day, in 1893, near Gumkhal, in a place called Badru, he was in deep in meditation when a boulder fell on him. His thigh suffered serious injury. In this state he was evacuated to MH Lansdowne for treatment. During treatment, he peacefully passed away at the age of 64 years. The entire Garhwal paltan was in mourning. He was given a military funeral.

19. He left behind four sons –
(a) Amar Singh, direct commission to Jamadar, attended King George V coronation ceremony at England as Sub Maj. He died on 4 Sep 1912 at Lansdowne at the age of 47. His eldest son Chandra Singh Negi rose to the rank of Capt in Garhwal Rifles. During 1942-45 he joined INA & as a Lt Col, was the Comdt of its Officers Training School.
(b) Bhagwan Singh served for some years in the army, after which he spent his life as a landlord.
(c) Shib Singh Negi also served for a short time in the army. He engaged in his private enterprise. He died in1942. His eldest son Gopal Singh was a successful businessman of Lansdowne & was a member as well as the Vice President of the Cantonment Board.
(d) Girdhari Singh Negi retired as Sub Maj.

20. Thus, today, the clan of Balbhadra Singh Negi is leading a peaceful & prosperous life. But his extended family is the populace of Garhwal who have been, are & will be benefiting from the employment created by the mere creation of The Garhwal Rifles in 1887. Garhwal battalions & Lansdowne are indeed a fitting tribute to Balbhadra Singh Negi (whether the present generation acknowledges it or not).
(End of translation)

3. May I request you to help my Regiment to locate these from any Archives
that will help us to verify all the above mentioned. If all the
above is indeed true, we would like to give the rightful honor due to this
gallant soldier.

4. I went to his estate at Kotdwar during March 1988, & met his grandchildren who were in possession of an exhaustive biography, as well as the following medals
(These I tried to replicate with my pen in my diary which I still possess):-
(a) OBI mark IIII.
(b) Indian General Service Medal (1854-1895) - with.... Queen Regina embossed on Obverse side & an Angel blessing a man on the Reverse. Clasps of LUSHAI 1889 - 82, & BURMA 1889-92.
(c) India Medal 1895-1902) Medal with embossed VICTORIA REGINA ET IMPRATRIX Clasps PUNJAB
FRONTIER1897-98, & TIRAH 1897-98. (Same clasps were earned by Sgt David Mac Adie of the 72nd Duke of Albany’s Own Highlanders)
(d) OBI 2nd Class with a maroon ribbon.
(e) AFGHANISTAN MEDAL (elephant embossed) with Clasps PEIWAR KOTAL,
CHARASIA, KABUL, KANDAHAR, with a ribbon light green on the sides & navy
blue band in the centre.
(f) Three more medals, belonging to Balbhadra?
(i) Crown with GR & 22 June 1911 on reverse & Queen & King( Bearded) on
Obverse.
(ii) Brown maroon & green ribbon with a medal embossed with Persian?
script embellished with leaves.
(iii) DELHI DURBAR 1903, Edward VII

With the assistance rendered by friends in UK, I have been able to identify the above mentioned medals. However, I have been informed that Lord Roberts’ personal records are lying at Kew, enclosed in 48 boxes, last opened in 1859 by Countess Roberts in 1952
“The National Archives
WO - Records created or inherited by the War Office, Armed Forces, JAG, & related bodies.
Record Summary
Title - War office. Lord Roberts, C-in-c (South Africa & England) & President of National Service League:- Papers
Legal Status - Public Record
Language - English
Creator Name - Frederick Sleigh Roberts, Ist Earl Roberts 1832-1914
Dates - 1835-1913
Physical Description- 48 boxes & files
Access
Custodial History - Ada Roberts, 1875-1955
Countess Roberts in 1952
Held By - The National Archives, Kew”

I am seeking the help of anyone who can access these boxes to corroborate Lord Roberts’ association with Balbhadra Singh Negi. I shall be indeed grateful.

Comments

The Sunday Hindustan Times of Dec 2, 2007 featured the book review by Aditya Sondhi on the book “Soldier at ease” on Field Marshal KM Cariappa. The review highlights the episode when his son, later Air Marshal Cariappa was taken POW by Pakistani forces in Khem Karan in 1965. President Ayub Khan conveyed to the father that his son would be released if he so wished. General Cariappa replied: “They (Indian POWs) are all my sons. Look after all of them”. This facet of his character truly speaks volumes of the Field Marshal’s extraordinary spirit. The Field Marshal came from a noble stock & was well bred, having been alumni of Sandhurst, IMA, and Oxbridge etc. Obviously he would manifest character qualities befitting these institutions.
Can anyone else, lesser bred, display such exemplary character qualities so rare to find today even amongst the best bred? Read on.
Balbhadra Singh Negi was second of the three sons of a poor peasant in village Haida Kholi, near Satpuli, Pauri Garhwal. With no education coupled with abject poverty, he made his way to Najibabad where he joined a caravan of the British returning from Nepal with raw recruits. They were marching to Abbotabad – their Centre. Balbhadra joined them. He got enrolled & after an illustrious career, fighting in Peiwar Kotal, Charasia, Kandahar & Kabul, earning the IOM & OBI in the Second` Afghan War, he retired after serving as the ADC to the C-in-C Lord Roberts & later as the Viceroy’s ADC at Calcutta. He was granted 1600 bighas of land in Ghosi Khatta at Kotdwar. When Garhwal Rifles was raised in 1887, his son Amar Singh was granted direct VCO; his uniform & sword was presented to him at his home in Kotdwar with instructions to join duty at Lansdowne. During the Burma War, Amar Singh was seriously wounded. His father received a telegram: “Your son seriously wounded.” Balbhadra Singh Negi sent this reply: “If he is of any service to the Government, keep him, else shoot him.” In the return mail he wrote to his son: “Don’t worry. If you come out alive you will earn fame. If you die, you will still earn fame”.
Very few Uttarakhandis are aware of this exceptional soldier & father. Is there any parallel to this example anywhere in the history of medieval or modern India? Does anyone stand as tall as Balbhadra Singh Negi?

Comments

Remember how we tried to view the live images of Desert Storm, followed by the invasion of Iraq; how awed we were to see the might of the coalition concentrate in Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Persian Gulf & the Arabian Sea in what must have been the result of a meticulously planned & executed Transportation Model; how this state of the art smart technology was going to turn Iraq into a subservient pro-US democratic state; how we viewed the programmed missiles slam into specific apartments & windows; how we looked at the death & destruction safely ensconced in our warm living rooms as though it was a violent video game? Boy, these cowboys were great! In hindsight, are we still convinced that military might can break the will of a people – people who are fiercely proud & uphold their self respect? History has all the answers.

On the fateful night of 17th January 1991, I was at Secunderabad attending the Long Defense Management Course, when Desert Storm commenced. Brig. Al Janabi of the Iraqi Army too was attending the same course. He was my neighbor. He had attended at least three courses in India before this. He was very comfortable in India & with all Indians.

Al Janabi was of medium height but endowed with a robust muscular body. He was friendly & wore a perpetual smile. Like me he was balding. But, he made amends to his bald pate by carefully sticking two strands of hair that came all the way from the left side of his head. As we became friendlier, he showed me the wounds he carried from the Iraq-Iran War. Apparently, from visual inspection he should not be living! His abdomen, chest, right arm & leg had been torn apart by shrapnel. He was wounded at least twice & claimed that he refused evacuation. He had metal rods inserted at various points; the most prominent one being in his right arm. He & his extremely amiable & adorable family were fiercely loyal to Saddam Hussain whose photo was prominently displayed with great veneration in the living room.

Ramzia, a tall, exceptionally fair & beautiful lady was his loving wife. They had five children. All were initially shy but very friendly. Abdul was the eldest. He was about 15 years old. He wanted be an army officer. I am sure he must have. Abdul was followed by two pretty girls who looked like twins. They were mostly seen together with their arms wrapped around each other’s waists or necks - just as little girls do. Then came Ali who was about five years of age. Last & not the least was an adorable daughter who must have been two years old. She was born in India & so, naturally was named Hind. She was also called India.

Has the reader come across any alien who has named his child Hind? Janabis must have loved this country to do so. We were surprised & delighted. Now, having browsed through late Professor Dr. RaghuVira’s book “Studies in Classical India”, loaned to me by his grandson Jayant Baba, my classmate, I learn that there flourished early cultural contacts between Iraq & India. He writes that our merchants undertook periodic voyages to Bavera or Babylon, the ancient Iraq; that the former brought them a crow followed by a peacock to boost their limited population of birds & that there was exchange in the fields of medicine, astronomy, mathematics – the decimal system & trigonometry! Perhaps Hind was a manifestation of our ages old cultural ties. The Janabis became very close friends & soon we discovered that they were great fun to be with.

The College of Defense Management was 800 yards away & initially we walked to & fro till we felt that a transport was essential. I bought a second hand PL170 scooter that was just adequate for me. I thought Janabi too would buy a conveyance. Till he did, he took the pillion ride. Being strong & heavily built, the shock absorber gave way & had to be replaced a couple of times. While commuting, he described to me the situation in Iraq. He was supremely confident of Iraq’s ability to stand up to the US. He often spoke of secret weapons that were devastating. He elaborated that these weapons would explode in air creating a fireball that would incinerate & destroy everything underneath. He was referring to the Fuel Air Explosive Bombs. Finally, he was of the firm conviction that once hand to hand combat commenced, Iraqi soldiers would emerge as victors.

Obviously, Janabi was paid well. In India everything was relatively very cheap. He used to chuckle while telling me the price of beef here! On more than one occasion he offered to give me Dollars, if I ever needed any. What for I wondered? So, with his Dollars he ate well. However he lived very simple life at home. Apart from the MES provided furniture there was nothing else at home. Ramzia refused any domestic help of any sort. Daily she personally bathed her five siblings, did all the laundry, swept & swabbed the floor, & did all the cooking & cleaning. I am certain that Janabi too shared these responsibilities whenever he was at home. For these chores, Ramzia wore gloves. She was as strong physically as she was beautiful. She could give any of our Bollywood actresses a run for their money. She wore the typical embroidered frocks that women of the Tigris & Euphrates basin wear. She took us by surprise when she offered her hand while greeting, just as the westerners do.

The children ate the whole day long. When it was not meal time, they were seen eating assorted seeds of pumpkin, cucumber, melons, etc duly salted & dried. On occasions when they hosted dinner, two large tables were laid out with food that could feed a large baraat. The most outstanding feature was the table laid out with nothing but fresh fruits. It was evident that the Iraqis had a voracious appetite.

I cannot help mentioning a humorous incident on one such party. Guests were being entertained on the open terrace. Janabi, as usual was at his very best churning out delicious kebabs. One gentleman came up to Janabi asking for the way “to the corner”. “Sure”, said Janabi. The guest was taken to one vacant corner of the terrace & left there to figure out whatever he wanted to do. He again accosted Janabi & the latter, a bit bewildered took him, this time, inside the living room & left at another corner! It was much later that Janabi discovered what his guest wanted. Janabi narrated this incident to me in the typical heavy Iraqi guttural accent much to our mutual amusement.

The Janabis were very fond of Hindi movies. It is no exaggeration to mention that Hindi movies were being seen almost the entire day & for the better part of the night too. Surprisingly, they spoke no Hindi but understood the movie as well as we did. For the youngest two, Ali & Hind, movies on Cobras were their staple diet. Hind in particular danced a la Sridevi style to the music with a fair degree of perfection. On the other hand, Ali assembled a Mandir for the Cobra in his house which was obviously objected to. Every time it was removed it came back like a bad coin. Finally Ali found a perfect place where he spent hours by himself undisturbed – under the bed. Soon this was discovered & the parents allowed him to set it up on the open terrace. Such was Ali’s obsession with snakes & Indian movies.

On one occasion when several other Iraqi friends of the Janabis were being entertained, they decided to treat me & my wife to something they considered very special. It was a CD on belly dancing. The dance & belly gyrations were good but the music was horrible. When I revealed this to Janabi he burst out laughing at my own rendition of their songs & music.

On the fateful night of 17th January 1991 I walked up to Janabi’s flat & broke the bad news to him. “Janabi”, I said, “you are under attack”. He said nothing. As news of the death & destruction poured in, Janabis were shattered. Ahmed still resolved to join the Army. Ramzia was in tears. Every evening she along with her children prayed tearfully for Saddam’s success & safety. This was not to be. One day she revealed to my wife that she wanted to bake enormous quantities of chapattis/Nans to dispatch to her kin who were leading a horrendous life. The worst, though, was yet to come, in the form of Invasion of Iraq in 2003.

Today I look back at my brief association with the Janabis with nostalgia. Are they safe? Where is Ramzia? Did Ahmed join the Army & more importantly – is he alive? Are Hind, Ali & their two sisters safe? Wherever they are, may God bless them. We have happy memories of the Janabi family & a few rare photographs that we will always cherish hoping, one day, God will allow us to meet – here or in another dimension.

The situation in Iraq has been commented upon extensively. Earlier opinions, vocal & silent, were evenly balanced, because one section of the people thought that things will be resolved soon & all will be over. Now, today, all opinion is veering towards a scathing criticism of the Iraq invasion. I wish I could quote heavily from an article “Iraq is to Become a Lot Worse” written on 08/08/07 by Chris Hedges sub-titled as “Truthdig”; an article that reflects my own perception of the events unfolding; events that will “signal a phase of the war far deadlier and more dangerous to American interests & the world at large”; ramifications of which will engulf the peace of this nation too.
.

Comments

Yes, it’s about Little England in India. It lies due west of Patna, erstwhile Patliputra, on the southern bank of Ganga. No native was to be seen within the Cantonment. Typical English cottages, churches, dotted the exclusive home of the English. It must have been truly reminding the “Fringie” of his native home. Thus it was pronounced as Little England. Its name today is Danapur. Its claim to the famous sobriquet has long ceased to exist. Today it has a huge bustling market for primarily agricultural produce. This produce is carried in varied forms of modern as well as primitive transportation to the market in Danapur. Thus Danapur, which was the exclusive domain of the white man is today in ruins, reduced to a free for all thoroughfare to a continuous stream of local peasants. Apart from this Danapur possesses some unique features that need highlighting.

The Company, East India Company, after having consolidated at Calcutta, was engaged in exploring new frontiers for trade. The region of Tibet, “The Forbidden Kingdom”, was already under the cross hairs of Russia, China & the Company. (The Company was urged to consider Tibet as a potential backdoor to China). In quest of dominating the Gangetic region, Robert Clive’s campaigns culminated in the defeat of Suraj-ud-Daula in 1757 at the Battle of Plassey. In the run up to this final victory, Clive engaged in smaller skirmishes. One of them was the battle near Danapur. Company naval vessels are said to have navigated up the Ganges. At this place the Rajah of Arrah, though fought valiantly, was vanquished. With the War Reparations/Indemnity demanded & received by Clive six massive barracks were constructed. These, since long have housed the erstwhile Headquarters of Bihar & Orissa Sub Area. The building will last several more centuries if maintained. In fact these structures ought to qualify for the title of Heritage Buildings. Once in control of the Gangetic plains, the Company compelled the locals to cease growing any other crop other than Indigo.

Most of the Cantonment is enclosed within inside a walled enclosure. Actually it’s not a wall but a flood bund. Towards the north the wall protects the Cantonment from the Ganges, while towards the south it provides protection from the Devaniya Nala. All sluice gates are locked & reinforced with sand bags during the monsoons. Thus, during the rains, the water within an area of approximately 2 kms long & ½ km wide accumulates & converts the Training Area of Bihar Regimental Centre into a marsh. All houses are prone to water seepage due to capillary action.

The National Highway cuts across this walled area west-easterly. The highway is very busy with the bulk of the traffic consisting of trucks. The author has seen how the traffic in Bihar in general & Patna in particular pay scant regard to traffic rules. However one is astonished see how the same traffic behaves within the jurisdiction of Bihar Regimental Centre. The speed is restricted to 5 kmph! There is no overtaking even by light vehicles. No one dare blow the horn. Once, in a social gathering, a Justice of Patna High Court complemented the Commandant for doing the impossible, i.e. taming the traffic of Patna. However he revealed that the Commandant’s men on duty at the road smacked his car with a cane for trying to overtake! Obviously, the Honorable Justice preferred not to engage in litigation with this soldier for fear of losing it, temporarily, against far more forceful arguments of a recalcitrant opponent!

Another unique feature of Danapur is the annual migration of the Open – Billed Stork. They come to feast on mollusks, frogs & insects in the marshes on either side of the Ganges. Roosting in the Pilkan trees, they occupy every conceivable place that can accommodate crude & hastily built nest. They add their own cacophony to the prevailing noise of vehicular traffic. The ground is quickly littered with their droppings. Soon the trees are bereft of their foliage & instead of cluster of leaves; all that remain are numerous nests. Over the years some of these trees have actually died due to the nesting. It is here that they lay eggs & raise their chicks, feeding them on the abundant food supported by the marshes. During strong gales, that frequently blow, several nests fall on the roadside. The chicks & their guardians do not abandon the nest & their fledglings. The author has learnt that some locals quickly carry away the vulnerable birds for the pot! Unless more trees are grown alongside the road to replace the dead & dying trees, these birds may well abandon their centuries old itinerary.

Ganges is the most unique feature of Danapur for several reasons. On a quiet sunny day one can be rewarded with the sight of the Indian Dolphin emerging for just a second over the heavily silt laden water. Often these docile creatures get ensnared in fishermen’s nets – to await the fate similar to that of the fallen Open Billed Stork.

Another heart rending sight was that of an infant floating downstream close to the bank. Was it an unfortunate fate of a girl child – quite possible? The author witnessed a number of such infants finding more love in the ample bosom of the Blessed Ganges than in that of their own mothers’; being gently rocked in nature’s cradle of waves, lest it wakes, in eternal sleep; not needing its mother’s milk or warmth or shelter or clothing. The feeling of the all too overpowering & boundless love bestowed by this inanimate mother, as opposed to that of the biological mother, grips my senses. Come let us pay tribute to these infants. No words can better convey our sentiments more than Charles Lamb in his poem:-

On An Infant Dying As Soon As Born

“I saw where in the shroud did lurk
A curious frame of Nature’s work;
A flow’ret crushed in the bud’
A nameless piece of Babyhood’
Was in her cradle-coffin lying;
Extinct with scarce the sense of dying:
So soon to exchange the imprisoning womb
For the darker closets of the tomb!”

The only difference was that here, in Danapur, it was not
“Nature blind (that)
Checked her hand & changed her mind,”
It was a human hand invariably, and that makes the sight even more poignant!

Contrast, dear reader, human deed so unkind,
To the large heart in the bosom of Ganges, so divine!

Should not we then seek solace in Nature when in grief
Rather than in the cold hearted humans we tend to seek?

Almost throughout the year, sandy banks of the Ganges accommodate those whose earthly journey & suffering has ended. Rarely does one see the placid banks free from the funeral pyre of the departed. On these very banks the author has bid adieu to many a valiant & young officers who fell during the capture of the forbidding heights of Kargil!

All day & night sailboats glide smoothly; upstream & downstream, navigated deftly & with great ease by locals, ferrying humans, livestock, food grains, & building material between Danapur & a huge island in the north, called the Diyara, in the middle of the Ganges. Quite often, nocturnal & sometimes daylight traffic between Diyara & Danapur is sordid & murky. The boats & Diyara provide a safe haven for the rouges from law.

Yet another feature, indelibly associated with the Ganges is Chhatt Puja. It is on the banks of this benevolent river, its unlimited benevolence we have just described, that people from far & near gather to perform their rituals. Weeks before the event, the exalted & lowly, saintly & sinners alike, set up their pre-designated barricades, tents, flags & durries & mats on the bank. The affluent lay out chairs, car batteries & loud-speakers to belt bhajans across the Ganges during this pooja. On one occasion, Smt. Rabri Devi’s family chose Danapur for this pooja. The most unique feature of this puja is that the Sun God is worshipped not at sunrise, but at sunset. The faithful ignore all barriers & trespass all over the Cantonment to scale the flood bund to gain access to the holy Ganga. An atmosphere of revelry pervades Danapur. Food is cooked, puja performed, men women & children stand waste deep in water, facing westwards with folded hands & take holy dips.

After the puja, it’s back to normal business. The very banks that were used for the holy Chhatt, is a scene of locals squatting, during daytime. The very water, holy water that was used for the holy dip, was then shown the posterior by the “washers”. Attempts to shoo off these people invited threats that can scarcely be ignored. Once again, from the roof of the Flag Staff House yet another discarded infant is making its final solitary journey, gently rocked by the waves, slowly brushing past the river bank while the Blessed Ganga searches for the final resting place for its beloved child. Did one hear the Ganges speak?

O heartless dwellers of this holy land,
See what I scribble with my waves on this sand,
Hypocrites, Hypocrites, Hypocrites, art thou,
Have thee not enough land under a bough,
To rest in peace thy seedling somehow?
I care for thy infant more than thee all.
Nay, I have place for entire humanity in my shawl.
You lower your offspring, to the mercy of crows, vultures & jackals?
Pestilence, floods, death & annual misery shall befall
& finally you shall account for your sins in Lord’s Great Hall.

Danapur is a huge grain market & it is still growing. The well known Congressman, Mr. Sitaram Kesri hailed from this market where he owns a fairly big house. Lt Col NK Sinha, ex RIMCOLIAN & Commandant of Kumaon Regimental Centre, uncle of HE the Governor of J&K, Lt Gen SK Sinha, lives in a sprawling bungalow that today, cries for heavy maintenance. Endowed with a hyper-active brain & vivid memories, NK is not hampered by his poor eyesight & equally poor ocular power, he narrates rare gems of past history. Once when racially slighted by a British officer in the Mess, he challenged him to a duel of Boxing. While narrating NK clenched his strong fist & said, “With or without gloves?” Prudently, I stepped aside & out of reach of NK. Much later I read in the newspaper that NK, on his way to Guwahati to be with his nephew, the Governor of Assam, halted at Kolkata to personally hand over a financial reward to a courageous young man in West Bengal!

And so, for time being, we take a break from the reminiscences of the author’s stay in Bihar.

Little England – Revisited (For a Pious Cause)

Welcome to Little England again – this time for a brief visit. How can one tour Danapur without revealing some more astounding historical facts & equally astonishing coincidence?
The Sub Area Headquarters at Danapur has its own places of religious worship. The Gurudwara is a hundred yards from the main office. The structure is a very old Temporary Hut that should have been demolished long back. Luckily, as the hutment has been allocated for a Gurudwara, the Sikh community of the Cantonment has maintained it well. Otherwise, it is as modest as any other temporary shed. One would easily ignore looking at, leave aside entering it. How come, in the past, when it was not a Gurudwara, it did not face demolition? Here, we could come to some interesting revelation, not without referring to “Autobiography of a Yogi”, authored by Shri Paramahansa Yogananda.
“In the autumn of 1861, I (Shri Lahiri Mahasaya) was stationed in Danapur as an accountant in the Military Engineering Department of the Government”. As per a telegram received, he was transferred to Ranikhet, where an army post was to be established. Here he learnt from locals that great saints blessed the region. Providentially, he heard a call for him & he climbed towards Drongiri Mountain & soon darkness descended. In an area dotted with caves, he met his Guru, Babaji, who blessed him with Diksha & the ancient secret of Kriya Yoga with instructions to teach it to others. As it was already late the disciple begged leave as he had urgent business to attend the next day. To this plea, he was told that, “The office was brought for you, & not you for the office.” Details of this meeting may be read by those interested in the book referred. Babaji instructed him to teach his disciples the majestic promise from the Bhagwad-Gita; “Swalpamapyasya dharmasya trayate mahato bhayat – Even a little practice of this dharma will save you from the great fear, the colossal suffering inherent in the repeated cycles of birth & death”. Shri Lahiri Mahasaya was thus with Babaji for ten days & was deemed lost by his office. On returning, a telegram awaited him – to return to Danapur! His posting to Ranikhet occurred by error! He, a father of two boys, Ek Kauri & Do Kauri, went on become a highly revered saint of Varanasi.
Having returned to Danapur, Shri Lahiri Mahasaya attended office in the very same barrack which today houses the Gurudwara. What was this hutment used as before it became a Gurudwara, I enquired? It was a Mandir!
The local devotees of this great saint, on learning about this, requested me to allow them to hold a prayer inside this sacred hutment on their Guru’s birthday. The Sikhs & their Granthi gave us the permission with two conditions. Firstly, Shri Lahiri Mahasaya’s photo will not be placed above or alongside the sacred Guru Granth Sahib. Secondly bhajans would not be accompanied with clapping. These were happily acceded to. Shri Lahiri Mahasaya’s photo was placed on the ground beneath the platform of Guru Granth Sahib. There was no clapping. The devotees had this to say, “For us, Guru Granth Sahib is our Guru. We will do as the Sikhs’ Guru desires”. Thus, for the first time, Shri Lahiri Mahasaya blessed all his disciples in the very humble hut that this great saint worked in, as an Accountant, under the benevolent grace of Guru Granth Sahib!
It may interest the reader to note that Kriya Yoga is believed to have been handed down from Lord Krishna to Yuyutsa, & thence to Mahavatar Babaji whose successive disciples were Shri Lahiri Mahasaya, Shri Yukteshwar Giri & finally Paramahansa Yogananda. Each of these saints had several other disciples. Today Kriya Yoga is practiced by many all over the world.
Thus we end our brief journey through Danapur that was once Little England; that was once a bitter battleground for Clive & the Raja of Arrah; that is still the itinerary for the Open Billed Stork; that was the office of Shri Lahiri Mahasaya.

Comments

In this article I write about the tradition of soldiering & recognition due to them. In this matter, we need to learn a lesson or two from the British. For the sake of brevity, I will straightaway refer to the I WW. How many soldiers from this sub-continent went to France to fight this battle; fighting for the British, against the Germans, in France? Among the valiant young men of this peninsula, were the intrepid Garhwalis. The Germans faced the brunt of their frontal assaults. They, the Germans, reverently referred to them as “The Storm Troopers of the British Army”.
After the war, the British seem to have undertaken a massive campaign to make, perhaps, hundreds of marble stones with a simple message to honor these soldiers, surviving or dead, & their place of birth. Such a stone exists in my village, Bageli, Patti Dhaijuli, Pauri Garhwal. Do you like it? I am afraid you will not be able to see it as it entails at least eight hours drive into the Garhwal Himalayas. Not to worry- you can see another fine specimen in Doon itself. Meanwhile, you may wish to browse through ten out of fifteen names of my kith & kin of Bageli, referred to in the memorial.

1. Sub Maj Padam Singh Rawat, my great grandfather.
2. Hav Bujyad Singh Rawat
3. Hav Bali Singh Rawat - grandson Honorary Capt Gobind Singh Rawat
4. Rfn Ramdev Singh Rawat –son Rfn Gopal Singh Rawat INA, Grandson Honorary Capt Man Singh Rawat
5. Rfn Maulya Singh Rawat
6. Rfn Madho Singh Rawat
7. Rfn Bacchu Singh Rawat
8. Rfn Rattan Singh Rawat (posthumous), great grandson Ramesh, Assam Rifles
9. Rfn Makka Singh Rawat posthumous), son Badri Singh Rawat INA, grandson Ganeshu
10. Trilok Singh Rawat

You may have walked past a monument in the heart of Doon, a number of times without ever pausing to see what this obelisk is; without ever discovering what the inlayed letters & words are; without ever realizing the great sacrifices made by the sons of this soil in a far off alien land, in soggy trenches, under appalling conditions of utter deprivation. Allow me to take you to this neglected memorial. While driving or walking from the Clock Tower towards Astley Hall, halt at the Traffic Island in front of Quality Restaurant. While the amber light turns to green, look Right. In the South Eastern corner of the large crossing, is a triangular island. A massive Pilkan tree grows within it. In the shade of this tree lies a monument pleading for your attention. The stone represents the brave soldiers. Who are they? Are they Gurkhas, Garhwalis, Kumaonis, or other settlers of Doon Valley? Does anyone know them? I shall be grateful to anyone who would care to ferret out their names & provide them to me so that an impersonal inanimate piece of stone can be given the dignity it deserves.
Yet another matter needs research. How many such stones were made & erected? The British took pains to walk to the remotest villages all over India to honor their soldiers, surviving or martyrs, & their native place. Are there any ways we can find out how many were made, where they were erected, & if possible discover the names of the soldiers referred to? Will the National Archives in UK be able to help us? We solicit the services of Mr. Upender Arora, Natraj Publishers to help us in this regard.
Having introduced you to our brave soldiers, may I seek your views on the need to make an appropriate Uttarakhand Memorial to honor all martyrs of this land? Naturally, we must examine this issue dispassionately as it entails availability of land, funds, perpetual & assured maintenance. Do take time off to reply with your suggestions. The proposal must have overwhelming approval of the citizens. Only then can it remain immortal, otherwise it will languish in utter neglect & fade into oblivion like this small but precious monument opposite Quality Restaurant. In case the citizens do not wish to be involved, may we have the permission to remove it from the present location & hand it over to some organization , military or non-military that will give it due recognition, respect & ensure its maintenance? I am sure there will be some who will accept it gladly.
Let me apprise the citizens of Doon that this stone intrinsically is worthy of being classified as an antique! Let us take care of it before it disappears.
Replies may please be addressed to rsrawat47@hotmail.com)

Comments

There must be many very senior citizens of Doon, still going strong, thanks to the clean environment & lifestyle of the past, nostalgically remembering the Doon of yesteryears. They must have seen Doon in its prime much before the 50s. Age does not permit me to venture before that era. Many uniquely pleasant sights flash through the mind, sometimes lingering on & on. One such sight I share with the readers is the early morning school hour. I would love to see it again & I am sure you too would.

Cars were rare. The prominent ones belonged to erstwhile chieftains announcing their presence with red plates screaming Nabha, Patiala, Sirmoor, Nalagarh, Jind etc & some non-chieftains like Rai Bahadur Jodhamal. Dr Bedi, father of pretty Jitender Bedi (Jitty), a gentle old man, had a small black car that ran quite efficiently. Thus, apart from an odd rare appearance of a car, roads were free from vehicular traffic. The only two wheelers on the roads were cycles – a prized possession! (One lucky owner of a bike, & that too a“ Fixed wheel Bike” was one of the sons of “Hing Walla Seth” of Ajabpur who prematurely lost hair, cycled, played the mouth organ & studied - in that order of priority).

In retrospect, Omar Khayyam’s opening couplet from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (as translated equally brilliantly by FitzGerald) aptly described the break of dawn that greeted the early riser of Doon. Let’s share this with our readers.

Awake! for Morning in the bowl of Night
Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:
And Lo! The Hunter of the East has caught
The Sultan’s Turret in a Noose of Light.

As this wonderful spectacle unfolded over the horizon, yet another one unfolded on the peaceful roads of Doon. Immaculately dressed boys & girls made their way, on foot to their schools creating an ever changing collage of colorful dresses. Convent girls were dressed in white frocks, crimson socks, ribbons, tie & blazer. St Joseph’s boys were in their grey pants, white shirt, striped maroon & Navy blue ties, & Navy blue blazers. St Thomas’ girls & boys were dressed in grey with green blazers & white and green striped ties. Later in the 50s more color was added by children of Doon Cultural Centre, who wore Red, Green & Yellow striped scarves around their necks – just as “Boys/ Girls Scouts” do. With the change of season the dress too changed. During the rains the sight became somewhat dull with the use of gum boots, rain capes & umbrellas. A lucky few went by Tonga owned by the affectionate Pathan, who whipped the horse’s rump, & occasionally twisted its tail to make the creature fart, in a manner horses ought to, causing ripples of laughter among the children. So, this sea of humanity, or students flowed up from Ajabpur, Dharampur, Race Course, and Hardwar Road converging on Subhash Road & beyond, & in the reverse direction at noon. I am giving you a perspective from South Doon. Similar sights must have been witnessed from other cardinal direction towards the cluster of schools. What a beautiful sight to behold!

Simultaneously, college students of MKP, dressed in all white salwar kameez, & DAV too filled the road. Perfect peace prevailed on the roads Cops were rarely seen or needed. In one rare case of an unsuspecting Street Romeo abandoned his bike & fled without the intervention of any law enforcing agency. Shall we converge at the crossing of New Road & Subhash Road to pay homage to a short career of a promising Street Romeo?

Many stalked the New Road in front of MKP (founded by Mr. Darshan Lal’s wife or mother – I am not sure). What I narrate was not witnessed by me but I have reasons to believe that it was true. Here is the story. An exceptionally smart, tall, Amazon built girl, ex student of the Convent was whistled at by one cycle borne street-side Romeo, little knowing what was lay in store for him. This lady was an exceptional athlete & still is, even at this age! How dare this punk whistle at her? Only the likes of one-armed Dorai Swami, Edgar Daniels or Bruce Haynes could dare do this- that too with disastrous consequences. This tigress of Doon energized her strong long legs to chase our hero who dumped his bike & fled till, at the Parade Ground he was asked about the cause of his exceptional sprint! (The essential incident may be true while the rest of what followed must have got enrichened by word of mouth). And so terminated the brief career of the Romeo & in turn established some sanity & order on New Road – without the interference of cops. Having given you this happy prelude, let’s now attend to the actual business at hand.

Today, the spectacle has changed. Hardly any students are seen on the roads as hitherto fore. School buses, cars, motor cycles & scooters compete for the limited road space with three wheeler scooters & Tempos stuffed with our children. Safety of commuters is endangered. But, apart from this we are endangering the health of all citizens & in particular, children due to our apathy all over Doon. The crossing near Heritage School is one such example.

At the North Western corner of the crossing of New Road & Subhash Roads are two historic monuments now lying aged & neglected. One is a blind beggar who plays the flute to earn money from the generous, as do some guys in the subways of London. He is no environmental hazard. Nevertheless he needs our care & support. The other is a vacant plot that was the front garden of late Advocate Raneshwar Singh. He was brother of ping-pong eyed screen villain KN Singh who, in a movie, was dispatched to a watery grave from atop the Howrah Bridge. He was a fearsome actor solely because he could swivel one ping pong eye independent of the other. As Raneshwar looked quite like his Bollywood brother, his stern looks probably dissuaded all neighbors from dumping their household garbage in his land. Today, it seems that the garbage of all houses in Subhash Road & New Road is being dumped in this triangular patch. Frequently it is burnt. Billowing toxic smoke of plastic waste engulfs the surrounding area. Very prosperous & elegant people live in its vicinity. Some are proud owners of the best manicured lawns one could ever hope to possess. Why don’t these gentle people protest? Okay, you have lived your life. What about the 2000-3000 children of Heritage School? Why are we endangering their lives? In any case who has given the culprits the authority to pollute the air for our children? Who is responsible for all this? Will the guilty raise their hands to accept moral responsibility? Will those who have the people’s mandate to govern & administer use the authority to clean the area & allocate appropriate Trenching Grounds well away from the residential areas of not only the affluent, but also of the poorer citizens? Will someone listen?

One cannot expect wonders from the Administration & citizens to restore Doon to its earlier glory overnight. Let’s make a start. Why not start from Raneshwar Singh’s vacant plot. It will involve a JCB, some labor for a few days, & several trips of the Garbage Truck to clean it up. We may wish to solicit the cooperation of MNA to do it, provided they are inclined to do so. School children of Doon, particularly of Heritage School, raise your voice as never before to awaken the senses of wealthy & benevolent citizens to fund this project if need be. However, this pile of garbage will accumulate again if the neighboring residents do not ensure that their household garbage is dumped at the place designated & that the Administration does not regularly remove the same to a Trenching Ground.

Heritage School, in addition, may wish to felicitate the blind flutist, who would, I am sure, like to delight the children with melodies of days gone by.
PS
I am happy to learn that Heritage School did invite this blind man for a performance on the Day for Aged Parents.

Comments

Among the fascinating places I was fortunate to see during my service in the Army, is Surankot Valley. It is this valley along which the historical Mughal route to Srinagar, Kashmir lies. Though, like Himachal Pradesh & Uttarakhand, this region too has suffered at the hands of man up to 1960s when all trees bearing commercial timber were mercilessly hewn & floated down the rivers as sleepers. Thus much of nature’s beauty has been shorn from the majestic landscape that still is captivating.

Pir Panjal Range forms the natural watershed for all rivers flowing westwards, particularly the Suran River & the Bataar Nala that confluence at Poonch offering excellent Mahseer fishing even today. Across this watershed lie the famous Gulmarg Ski slopes. There is one place on this watershed that has an interesting folk lore. A local Rajput Muslim, Basheer Khan, of Surankot narrated it to me while on a patrol in to the higher reaches of Surankot Valley. He referred the scraggy jagged ridge line as “Sapon Wali Pahari”. It is believed that at one point in time, this area was infested with snakes till one day they perished leaving behind their impressions that can still be seen on the surface of the rocks! This region, like any other hill region of the Himalayas abounds in superstition folk tales. How I wished I could have continued my patrol to witness this evidence.

It is also believed that it is the women who indulge in casting devastating spells on rival women & men, as well as livestock! Spells are cast to render someone’s wife barren. Men too are not free from the wrath of these women if slighted. The neighbor’s bull would be rendered incapable of mating no matter what one did! Similar fate awaited the men. A frightening thought indeed. What other sinister webs could they weave?

Local hunters sneaked out of their homes only after dark lest someone see them, casting a terrible spell on their musket. The frustrated hunter would discharge all his cartridges but not one would find its mark. How is it done? Well, after some sort of secret “Abracadabra” or “Gilli Gilli Gilli” the person casting the spell merely waves his hand, around that specific hillside or forest. Lo & behold, all animals & birds were safe. How our Forest Department & Game Wardens would love to enroll them to protect the dwindling wild life!

From the Suran River bed, the hills on either side rise suddenly. A short distance along the road upstream is a unique village. This village has no business to be there. All surrounding villages are Muslims. This village, astride the road, is Hindu. The amazing fact is that it is hundred percent Brahmin consisting of one common community. This is the village Daraba. I wish I knew what the name meant. They are Mohyal (pronounced Mujhal) Brahmins. They are said to be of warrior class & have even fought in the battle of Karbala. Their proud emblem is an intrepid warrior in arms on a restless steed. Their community periodical is called “Mohyal Mitter”. These people are the prosperous & good looking Balis, Dattas, Chibbers, Mohan (Mohan Meakens), Bakshis etc. The residents of Daraba run flourishing business as transporters as far off as Mumbai. How they have survived the invasion of unruly hordes of Razakars & regular Pakistani Army personnel during 1947-48 in baffling, as all Sikh & Hindu communities around Poonch had sought shelter inside the besieged Poonch Garrison under Brigadier Pritam Singh. The fact that they still reside there is a testimony to the respect, faith & trust that they enjoy from the predominant Muslim population. Thus, a visit to Daraba is unique in its own way.

There is yet another village that carries its own distinction. It lies on the opposite side of the valley, & at a higher altitude that only a few dwelling units are visible from the road. The village is Bafliaz. I was informed that Bafliaz was Alexander’s horse that died at this spot, hence the name. Any skepticism in this regard is dispelled when one confronts the locals of this village. They are strikingly handsome & beautiful. Their dress is distinct. The hair is braided & tied somewhat like the Greek hairdos of the ancient times. They are said to be the descendents of Alexander’s army. I vaguely recollect that there are some villages in the remote interiors of Himachal Pradesh where a European traveler claims that the inhabitants, handsome & beautiful, are indeed remnants of Alexander’s army!

This valley will prove to be a rich experience for any tourist; however one is not sure whether one can venture in this, now dangerous, area without the approval & protection of security forces. I wonder if my friend Bashir Khan is safe & sound as he possesses a treasure of knowledge about the local Flora & Fauna, as well as the culture & history of the valley.

The reader will be amazed to learn that almost every male in this valley is an excellent armourer & literally can repair & even manufacture a shotgun in his home. Similar talent of a superior class is possessed by the various tribes in Afghanistan. We can only hope that peace prevails in this region so that tourists can enjoy this, less visited part of J&K that lies west of the Pir Panjal Range.

Comments

Thanks to media, we have been exposed to the life & achievements of women in modern India. Whether such transformation is the result of promises & programmes of successive Governments or otherwise is a subject we may skirt for the time being. Despite the emancipation of women in cities & towns, we are also aware of the appalling plight of a large section of women in rural areas, as also in some pockets in urban areas. The canvas I have taken up is too large to handle. I will confine myself to the hill region of Uttarakhand for a first hand account of the century/centuries old & present day life of women. I hope to do some justice to this subject as I can still peep into the second decade of the Twentieth century. At one end of the continuum, my father’s sisters, two of them, one above 90 years of age & the other just below, are walking, eating, cooking, tilling, talking fit! At the other end of the continuum, I have a busload of female relatives subsisting in the village. Therefore, what I write will be largely true & will stand scrutiny. At times you may confront a hyperbole! Pardon me. It has become second habit now.
Meera, from Gadoli is admitted in the Combined Medical Institute (CMI). She has head injuries & a broken leg. A number of her relatives from the village & Doon are here to see her treated. She is in coma. Her own simple but tough life has been disrupted – so has that of others who now, must devote their time to be with her. For two weeks her condition remains the same – critical. Most of the meager earnings & saving of Dhan Singh have been spent. Now it is for the others to render financial aid. Relatives keep commuting from Nakraonda, Jogiwala, Harrawala, Niranjanpur, Premnagar & Siddhuwala doing all they can for Meera & Dhan Singh. Despite their efforts & prayers she dies. In a way she is more fortunate than many other women like her. Life for a maimed woman in the hills can be hell - for her & for those who have to care for her. Those who recover would envy Meera.
How did Meera sustain such gruesome injuries? She was up on an oak tree cutting its leaves to feed the buffalo at home. This is a daily ritual. All women have to do this. There is no choice whatsoever. Over the last two centuries, or even more, my kin have knocked the trees down, to allow the livestock, goats & buffalo to feed while they themselves lay asleep under the shade of nearby trees! Wood was salvaged for fuel. Those were the days of plenty. Now, there are hardly any trees to be seen. Whatever little remains is on the very crest of the ridge – that too mutilated by cutting of foliage, to appear as stunted undernourished trees, more like hideous bonsais. Thus traditional forests that were contiguous to the village kept receding farther & farther away. Women trudge long distances with sharp sickles, tucked in their waist, to return with loads of leaves & twigs over their stooped backs.
As forest cover has diminished, nay disappeared, the remaining trees cannot provide enough for competing clients. Leaves now remain at the very extremities of bare & precariously thin branches. Women must climb within arm’s distance to lope the tantalizing foliage. Inevitably, they slip & fall on the uneven rocky ground below with grave consequences. Lacking any means of communication, help is sought by running back to the nearest village that is not close either. If the victim is lucky, she is carried back to the village where no worthwhile doctor is available. A much touted & VVIP-visited hospital at Chaki Sain, Patti Dhaijuli, where periodic politically-oriented-medical-camps are attended & given wide publicity, recommends evacuation to Pauri! Years of sad experience at Pauri Hospital suggests the bereaved to head for the orthopedic surgeons of Doon. What, you may ask? What is the Chaki Sain Hospital & the District Hospital Pauri meant for? Ask the successive Governments & Health Ministers.
In 1957 I went to my village. I had to walk from Buba Khal for two days, crossing range after range, after a night halt at a horribly filthy inn at Kalgadi. Much later, a motor road came up & candle-light electricity came quite recently. Tapped water is still a distant dream – even in my own village - despite several elected MLAs who claim to be highly dynamic! Those days patients like Meera just awaited sure death, or lived a maimed life to be slowly & surely, totally neglected with age.
Now, with better roads, patients like Meera are bundled, as comfortably as possible, in Anand Singh’s (of Kutkhal) Willys jeep, & in 8 to 9 hours of non-stop driving & brought to the private orthopedic clinics in Doon. Would any resident of Doon like to be evacuated to a nearby hospital in by a rickety jeep? The woman from the hills has no choice.
This is the identical plight of all women of the Uttarakhand. They travel all the distance, through winding roads, in a highly uncomfortable conveyance, under agonizing pain, to that hospital where you & I reach in a minutes in an ambulance! Please visit Dr HK Johri, one of the eminent orthopedic surgeons of Doon, or if you have the time, all orthopedic surgeons in Uttarakhand, to discover the number of women who are victims of falls from trees while cutting leaves. From my own native place, four women have fallen from trees, evacuated to Doon & one died after prolonged coma, over the last 4 years. These incidents have repetitively occurred in the past too. This is what I remember ever since I was a child.
I have seen trees in Uttarakhand reduced to tall spindly bare branches. At the very end of the bare branches are a few tufts of leaves. No one, howsoever deft in climbing trees, can reach them. I am sure, despite the hazard, women will reach out to them no matter what the consequences are.
Our domestic help has bad news from the village. His wife, Bhagati Devi, while on an oak tree to cut leaves, has accidentally missed the branch with the sickle & instead, hit her leg with full force. She has a deep gash in the flesh & bone. The wound has gone septic & her leg in grotesquely swollen. This, for me, is the last straw & hence this article. Fetching fodder & fuel from far off trees has been the job of women since centuries while men are engaged in ploughing, smoking & gossiping.
Does a woman of the hills too feel pain? She does but is capable of bearing it far better than her sisters elsewhere. She has no choice. With a horribly swollen & infected leg Bhagati Devi undertook the ordeal, was treated & is now back in the village to follow the same routine.
The condition for women over the last 90 years or so has deteriorated rather than improved. Earlier, there was no migration to the plains. Joint family system & community labor ensured that all tasks related to agriculture were shared equally. During periods of drought & famine this region not only provided food grain for consumption but also seeds to the affected areas. Women collectively shared all chores. Today, men have migrated to the plains seeking odd jobs or to serve in the Armed/Para Military Forces. Women are left alone to look after the household, hoping their men will get leave during the harvesting & sowing seasons.
People of the plains may not know that in the hills, no one has any consolidated land holding. Land is spread over vast areas, often several kilometers apart, over rugged hilly terrain in the form of one or two small terraces at any one place. Thus the land owner has to move with his bullocks, plough, seeds, & tools from place to place all by himself/herself as community labor is now non existent. The entire effort is highly uneconomical & will seem ludicrous to the dweller in the plains. The net result is that distant terraces have been long abandoned & degraded due to disuse. People, whose granaries were once overflowing, are today dependent on Government Ration Stores. Thus, the sole burden of the household, animal & land related work falls on the frail shoulders of women. No wonder they look emaciated & age pre-maturely.
Add to this the exposure to marauding bears & leopards. More often than not, it is the woman who is the inevitable victim. This too she must bear over & above other deprivation & difficulty.
For her, fetching fodder is one of the many chores – not only leaves from trees but also grass from slippery & precipitous slopes. Apart from this, she must rise well before the male members for morning ablution for which she has to trudge a longer distance. No community toilets exist. There is crying need for separate male & female toilets & baths. She then has to thresh the wheat, rice, millet etc well before the break of dawn, light the fire, cook a meal called Kalyar (you would like to call it brunch). She will then go to the fields, actually terraces spread over a wide area, to do weeding or harvesting depending upon the cropping season. In the evening she & her siblings can be seen herding her meager livestock home along a dusty path. Meanwhile potable water must be fetched for the home from the Gadyera (nallah). Thus, with a cloth tied around the head, to mitigate the headache; with the saree ungracefully wrapped around the waist; with the grime & sweat of the day’s labor; with some of her upper garments somewhat wet with the water of the pitcher, she must make haste to prepare the second meal of the day. Even after all this her day’s work is not over. Depending on the season she must again apply herself to threshing, winnowing & grinding – a chore that mercifully is to be done in the courtyard. There is no recreation, welfare, medical cover (pre or post-natal) for her. Many have never ventured out – not even to Pauri, the District Headquarters, unless they are unfortunate to need medical evacuation to mend their bones. No pediatrician, gynecologist, female nurse or any other specialist is available within easy reach. Ponder over what you have just read. What have the ruling parties & local MLAs done? The peasants are fully aware of their self serving agenda. After being elected, they pay scant attention to those who elected them. It happens every time & will continue irrespective of the ruling party concerned. What the electorate, or shall we say the public, do in the future about the utter neglect meted out to them is a matter that time will only reveal.
Coming back to the plight of women, the reader would be appalled to learn that when there is a hospital at Chaki Sain, patients have to go to Pauri, over winding roads, in immense discomfort pain & cost when a hospital exists close by? Why has the Government wasted scarce money, time, & salary to sustain this white elephant when the most common & recurring ailments/ casualties cannot be treated in situ? Why can’t an orthopedic surgeon be posted within the Patti? Are we short of doctors? Any orthopedic surgeon, irrespective of his acumen is better than none at all in this remote region. In one of the stage-managed medical camps, a bank has donated an x-ray machine. This is rarely used. Is this what visionary leaders like Pandit Nehru down to Mnmohan Singh intended/intend for the rural area? The list of Yojnas is long, impressive enough to melt the hearts of overseas agencies to provide vast sums of money for schemes to benefit the poor in the rural areas. For long, all MLAs have displayed their oratorical & persuasive skills to make asses out of the electorate. Beware; the birds will come home to roost one day!
The above accounts are no hyperboles. We are happy in towns & cities where, even if one has to pay through one’s nose, the basic amenities are available. The situation in the hills is bad. Don’t let yourself be fooled by the false claims made about the work being done in the hills. I do not visualize any better even in the next 20 years. Migration from the hills will continue; so will over exploitation of residual vegetation, water, land & electorate; so will degradation of hills, erosion of soil & ever increasing scarcity of water.
For me, Uttarakhand is Dehra Dun, Hardwar, Haldwani, Ramnagar, Udham Singh Nagar. The rest is the rump of the state that has no economic strength. It has one solitary strength & that is ballot fodder.
There is near total lack of medical care for the women in the hills. If you can take time of to see the records of the numerous orthopedic hospitals/departments, you will discover that a disproportionately large number of orthopedic cases of the hills are treated at Doon & other towns in the plains. If this be the case, what has the Government done in the hills over the last 60 years? That is why I dare to state that the condition will remain the same even over the next 20 years and more.
One reads in local dailies about token ceremonial tree planting campaigns. I am appalled to read that our politicians state that Uttarakhand has rich forest cover – stated as a matter of pride. Pray, where in Uttarakhand do you see this barring “Dudhatoli” which perhaps can lay claim to possess the richest Deodar forest, and “The Valley of Flowers”. Even this exists with no thanks to anyone’s efforts barring “remoteness” & Forest department in that order of merit. There is a drive to open this area, i.e. Dudahtoli, to tourism, only to convert it to another polluted Dhanualti. Whatever has been done in terms of afforestation can be seen en route to Mussoorie & contiguous to a few villages thanks to the TA Battalion & some determined locals. Everywhere trees can only be seen at the very crown of peaks in Lower & Mid Himalayas. It is hoped that the raising of TA companies in Uttarakhand will do a salutary job. The reader may wonder how the foregoing remarks have any relevance the plight of women. I wish to address all experts in the field of forestry, & Uttarakhandis abroad to apprise the highlanders about the various types of quick-growing-fodder-providing trees, shrubs & grass that are suitable at various altitudes & cardinal faces of hillsides with varying water/moisture availability. I have tried to browse the internet & find myself confronted with volumes of salad dressing (preludes) & botanical/local names of vegetation suitable for fodder – but mostly applicable to deserts & plains. It will be very helpful if a variety of specific plants & seeds can be made available to the villagers to enable them to produce plentiful & alternate fodder; so that the oak tress can be left alone to regenerate themselves & perform their vital role to preserve ground water & top soil. A massive campaign to grow a variety of trees, shrubs & grass will not only provide succor to the women but it will serve as a vital prop for the eco-system.
While traveling through the length & breadth of Uttarakhand, hasn’t one noticed bare, rocky, sparsely vegetated slopes often covered with cacti? Were these hills always like this? Probably not. Given the present desert like condition, would the sub species of Acacia adapt well here? These are grown all over in the Sahara & sub-Sahara regions of Africa as well as in Middle-East & in the Indian sub-continent. Experts have all the data about the nutritional value of the leaves/seeds in terms of protein. Prosopis Juliflora/Cineraria (Khejri) too are suited to arid conditions. Of course advice of experts is needed to ensure that some of the species that are truly invasive do not engulf other cultivated areas. Locals use the foliage of Tilanj, Kharsu, Chamlau, Paiyan as fodder. Of these Tilanj is most prized. Can the forest department raise large number of saplings of these & other local & foreign species in their nurseries, & provide them to the people for planting in their own land & forest land? This business of suggesting the type of vegetative matter that can be grown for fodder in the hills is best left to the experts whose help is sought, & is the crying need of the hour.

Comments