Deuce, game…err…love??

The perennial cry-babies of Indian Tennis are at it again. Yes folks! Taking their God-knows-how-old-dushmani another step forward, Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupati have started a fresh round of mudslinging. The latest salvo in this direction came when Lea accused teammate Vijay Amritraj of unprofessionalism after the Davis Cup victory over Uzbekistan. A hurt Amritraj ganged up with the other teammates (with some eager leadership by Bhupati) and immediately shot off an e-mail to the Indian Tennis Federation Prez complaining about Lea’s dictatorial and harsh ways. Lea has lately made it a habit to rub people the wrong way by opening his mouth a bit too wide. When was the last we remember him and Bhupati participating in some event without bickering. And they were supposedly the poster boys of Indian Tennis! One can well imagine what impression such moronic personality clashes give to outsiders about Indian sports, which anyway arent much to write home anyway.

A nation of a billion gets one medal in the Olympics! The sole seeded tennis player is criticised for her dress, behaviour, style and what not! The Hockey federation is run by a supercop-turned-female bottompincher for a decade and a half! The I & B Minister heads the Football federation….Umm..I guess the picture is clear! Heavens help Indian sports!

Rail watching woes

I am a self confessed railfan. It may sound like an odd hobby but rest be assured, there are many more like me. We just happen to be certain blokes who never could get over their childhood fascination for trains. Therefore today whenever I travel by train, half of my time is spent near the door: watching the surroundings, hearing the melodious beat of the wheels and feeling the warm air rushing in my face…bliss! I also undertake rail treks. Walk along to the nearest rail line, preferably with a camera in hand..and wait. Soon you hear the far off rumble of the Iron monster, the tracks start throbbing and the magnificent beast rumbles past you, dust flying, horn shrieking and making a hell lot of noise in general. I would prefer that to anything else, anyday.

However the Railway officials dont quite know what to make of people like me. Under the “amazing” Indian laws, all sorts of rail photography is restricted and one needs permission from the competent authorities for something as romantic as taking a pic of a moving train. Bill Aitkens in “Travels by a Lesser Line” has some wonderful anecdotes about such bureaucratic tightasses. Though not such a prolific railfan as Aitkens, I too have had quite a few such experiences….

Enroute to New Jalpaiguri, the train I was travelling in passed through the Sahibpur Chord Line, an archaic line where still semaphore signals and locos from obscure sheds abound. Not wanting to miss this railfanning opportunity, I was taking in all the sights from the door when suddenly the AC coach attendant accosted me…

Coach attendant: Babu, door band kar ke jaao

Me: Nahi uncle, main trains ko dekh raha tha.

C: Trains ko? Usme dekhne ka kya hai?? Sab lohe ka dabba hai…tum andar jaao..

Me: Arey uncle dekhne do na! Main thodi der baad chala jaaunga..

C: Nahi nahi…yeh mana hai..door ke paas khade huye to police pakad leti (rolls his eyes)..Govt ne ban lagaya hai…

Me: (Angry now)…bhaad me gayi Govt aur bhaad mein gayi police…I’ll stand here…

C: baabu baat maano…(tries to force me in)

Me: Par….

C: nahi nahi…andar jaao…

Me:&*%&^$^!!

Its gone: The sad story of the Tiger.

 

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,         
In the forests of the night :
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
 

So said William Blake 200 years ago. Unfortunately today the same fearful symmetry is being wiped out. The latest Tiger Census 2007 reveals that India has only 1411 tigers left in the wild. To put that in perspective, probably an apartment in Metropolitan India will have more residents. The Tiger Census in 1997 had stated that India had 3500 tigers. Why this alarming fall then?

There are two reasons. The earlier censuses were all conducted through the pugmark method, a highly inaccurate and misleading method that over-inflated the real figure many times over. But there is no denying that poaching has increased manifold in the past decade with Tigers being summarily wiped out of large swathes of India.

In 1900, India still had 40000 tigers. The icon of royalty and the pride of India, it was relentlessly hunted down by the Maharajas and the Britishers. Organised poaching was negligible in those days. By 1947, that figure had halved to 20000 beasts. Preoccupied with Economic development and other human-oriented programs, the Govt of India turned a blind eye to wildlife. Concurrently, demand in China for the tiger’s body parts (to be used in Chinese “medicine”)  led to its large scale massacre in India. By 1972, barely 1872 of these magnificent animals still remained. Alarmed at the rampant massacre of the National Animal, the then PM, Indira Gandhi started Project Tiger. A path-breaking initiative, it led to several hot-spots being designated as Tiger reserves simultenously with stringent Anti-poaching measures. All these had a salutary effect and in 25 years, the population almost doubled.

Sadly, complacency soon set in. A burgeoning human population, large scale clearing of forests, inefficient and corrupt forest departments and relaxation in the laws prohibiting exploitation of the forests led to the influx of poachers, again! The notorious tiger killer, Sansar Chand and his gang within a span of 5 odd years managed to kill each and every tiger in Sariska Reserve, Rajasthan’s most well known reserve after Ranthambore. Bribery played a large role in his remaining undetected. By 2005, the stench of the tiger corpses throughout India finally reached the Govt. which constituted a Tiger Task Force and an official survey. The Tiger Task Force sadly became a bickering point between environmentalists and the politicians and its net achievement in 2 years has been zilch! The Govt also passed the outrageous Forest Land Rights Act which gave virgin forest lands to tribals. The land in reality went into the hands of the Forest Mafia who are now all set to rob India of its remaining forest wealth.

The Royal Bengal Tiger found in India is the most widespread sub-species of the animal. About three others have already become extinct throughout the world. The massive demand in the Far East is fuelling this killing trade and the inefficent bureaucracy is an active conniver. Its not that the tiger is the only victim. The extremely endangered Asiatic Lions were killed in dozens in Gir, Gujarat; their last resort. The Gujarat Govt refuses to relocate some of them to another state as it fears a loss in tourist revenue!! Siberian Cranes are being murdered in Orissa. The Koeladeo Ghana wetlands in Rajasthan are being deliberately dried up, The King Cobras face an uphill battle in South India. 5 rhinos have been killed in two months in Assam and virgin forest is being raped by Granite Mafia in Satyamangalam. Our forest cover has declined to a mere 10% of the total area, way below the sustainable 33%.

Its not that there is no hope. Corbett National Park has shown how a dedicated approach can yield results. It is the only Park where the Tiger population has not fallen. Unfortunately our greed doesnt allow us to see the vital role forests and animals play in the climate and food chain. The common people along with the Govt have to take the initiative and protect this irretrievable resource. However that seems a fond hope. The Tiger looks all set to join the Indian Cheetah, the Pink Headed Duck and the Chinese River Dolphin in the list of hapless creatures that fell a prey to man’s uncontrolled lust.

Travelogue: Darjiling and Sikkim (Part III)

Ahem! After a lot of avoidable delay caused due to laziness, here’s the 3rd part of my East Himalayan sojourn. Evidently the sodden wet Islamia dinner wasnt exactly nutritious food, as, 3 vomitings and an equal no. of trips to the lavatory later, I found out. However it was nothing to worry about for the intrepid traveller and with a stomach still groaning, I set out for Gangtok. The road is the same till Ghoom from where another road branches out to the forbidden land of Sikkim. It was raining as badly as it can (again!). The curving road and the jawdropping cliff on one side of the road did nothing to assuage our troubled hearts. Thick forests of sal and bamboo covered the hill slopes with the trunks of the trees easily a few feet wide. The altitude slowly decreased and thankfully so did the rain. We came to a damp and humid stretch covered by tea gardens on one side and forests on the other. We also saw a few vehicles like ours that had decided to go off-road and now lay in trenches 20-30 metres deep. Heaven help us. Far to the south the high hills surrounding D’ling were still shrouded in clouds, mist and rain. Soon we reached something called a view-point where one could see the raging Teesta battle its way past the mountains, its noise sounding something like a million serpents hissing. The climate was progressively getting warmer. Sometime later we crossed the Teesta via a bridge built by BRO which maintains all the roads in these parts. We were now barely 800 m above sea level (for comparison, Bangalore is 900 m). The sign of the plains were all around. Heavy trucks with signs like “Horn. OK. PLEASE”, dust, heat and lowland flora. We crossed into Sikkim through the town of Rangpo, which looked like a typical Indian town. About an hour or so later and after climbing steadily we were finally in Gangtok.

Gangtok is very pretty. A relatively small city, 1800 m above sea level, it has a quaint charm. We stayed at the State Circuit House near the Rajbhawan and the view from there was enchanting. Outside vehicles arent allowed to ply in Gangtok and one has to take a local taxi. Our driver Bhutia was an amazing guy, very talkative, friendly and always cracking jokes. That is the way most of the Sikkimese are. They are all fiercely patriotic, something very surprising in a land which was till 1975, an independent monarchy. The Gangtok bazaar was our destination that evening. It’s paradise for the shopaholics. You find items from God-knows-where. I sought out my favourite Momos and found that the Sikkimese version is even tastier than the Darjiling one! The climate is much more congenial to sight-seeing than the somewhat oppressive Darjiling cold. The people here speak excellent Hindi, proof of the popularity enjoyed by Hindi films here. Sikkim has made tremendous progress under its CM, Pawan Chamling. Today it is a power-surplus state and enjoys a high literacy rate. The social-welfare program too has been a success here and beggars who are a common sight in other Indian cities are virtually non-existent.

We were in Sikkim for only one day and hence decided to make the best of it. Setting out early, we visited the 200 years old, Enchey Monastery, next door to the Circuit house. The whole pathway is flanked by prayer wheels, the hallmark of Tibetan Buddhism. The main monastery itself is a beautiful building with bright murals and a serene atmosphere. Maroon clad monks were engaged in a chanting session in the main hall. Our next stop was the Tashi Viewpoint, which offers fabulous views of the surrounding mountains and you guessed it, Kanchenjunga! The high power telescope there is a real boon for tourists. En route we also came across a pretty waterfall that had the road passing beside it with a thoughtfully added viewing platform. Next stop was the Ganesh temple and the water supply station some distance away on the road leading to Nathu La. Both are lovely places with panoramic views of the countryside. Army trucks abound on this route as men of the Jat regiment proceed to their posts on the China border. From the Ganesh temple one can also see the famous Rumtek Monastery about 10 kms away. This is the seat of the Karmapa Lama, the second highest ranking lama in Tibetan Buddhism after the Dalai Lama. What pleasantly surprised me here was that the Circuit House was barely 300 m away, on the hill slope. We had travelled 7 curvaceous km to climb 300 odd metres. The Orchid Museum with almost 300 varieties of orchids was a sight to behold. Sikkim has also adopted the Orchid as its state flower. Finally to cap up the Gangtok sojourn we took a ride in the ropeway that rises above the Hurhure darra, a steep cliff that looks down on a river near the main market place. The ropeway in my opinion is the best way to see Gangtok.  It also pauses for one agonising minute midway to allow tourists to take photographs.

       

 The Hurhure darra in olden days was used as the place where convicts were tied up in sacks and thrown to their death several hundred metres below. A short journey to the taxi stand and a delicious meal in a Marwari restaurant there (they really are Pan-Indian!) we set out on the road back to New Jalpaiguri. For those with more time (and warm clothes!) I would suggest a trip to the 4600 m high Nathu La where the Indo China trade takes place and also to the nearby Tsomgo lake, a gem really. The more adventurous can go to Guru Dongmar Lake in the far north. At 5200 m, its the highest lake in the world and you need to acclimatise to the rarified atmosphere. But with views like this, I guess it’ll be worth it!

    

En route we came to Melli where one can have the ride of a lifetime on a bobbing raft down the white waters of the Teesta. Some distance ahead we see the Teesta Hydroelectric Project in full swing, proof that “development” has finally reached here. It is sad to think that this gorgeously magnificent beast of a river will now have an ugly concrete structure in its midst! We reached NJP at about 5 30 PM after a journey of 120 kms that took close to 5 hours. I looked at the hills from the guesthouse rooftop. The sky was slowly darkening and the hills appeared like a vast black monolith with lights twinkling in them here and there. I knew I would be back. I surely will be. Someday!

The Thackerays: SOBs all.

I usually dont comment on the same brand of morons more than once but the activities of a certain variety of pure bred a**holes compels me to repeat the above mentioned surname for a second time in “Musings”.

For any Indian, nay person, worth even an iota of decency and public sense, the activities of MNS hoodlums in Bombay is enough to inspire nausea. MNS (that’s Maharashtra Navnirman Sena for the uninformed)  is a relatively new party but already its litany of misdeeds is threatening to overtake its illustrious parent Shiv Sena. From beating up the Chairman of Railway Rectt. Board, Bombay to collecting extortion money from North Indian shopkeepers to beating up poor taxi drivers and autowallahs for no fault of theirs (save that they are “biharis”) MNS has indeed carved out an ugly little niche for itself and also given the original Nazi SS (that’s Shiv Sena) a run for it’s money.

Who’s this sonofabitch?: Raj Thackeray not surprisingly is the nephew of Bal Thackeray, of I-love-Hitler and Maar-kaat fame. Angry over his Nazi uncle handing over the party to his son (Hitler Jr.), our hero branched out and formed what he called MNS, supposedly to “re”build Marathi society. This gang of Mumbai’s choicest gutter goons and lumpens has periodically shut down Mumbai, engaged in streetfights, run anti-”im”morality campaigns (read: beat up poor couples) and spawned a hate filled vitriolic campaign against “Biharis”.

What does he want?: Power, obviously!

What is the Govt doing?: Shitting in its pants as usual, afraid that targeting this anti-national would lead to its vote bank erosion. In the meanwhile one also hears that Raj’s fire-breathing dragon uncle is being let off by the Govt. in the Bombay Riots case….*sigh* Looks like we are gonna have this terrorist unleashed for a long long time.

The Indian State which is only too willing to unleash POTA, TADA and MCOCA on the poor is emasculated when it comes to powerful thugs like the Thackerays.

One had also thought that humanism and then nationalism always triumphed over narrow regional, caste and religious boundaries. With jerks like the Thackerays around, one is forced to do a rethink.

The shit has hit the fan. Now go hide!

Travelogue: Darjiling and Sikkim (Part II)

Darjiling was all misty and rainy when we reached. And that is the way the climate is throughout the year. From being a tiny holiday resort with a few thousand people, D’ling has today come a long way. It is a sprawling town with more than 100,000 inhabitants spread over more than 10 kms at an altitude of 2134 m. Unplanned growth and lack of restrictions on settling has made it like any other Indian town; dirty, smelly and crowded. The town is mostly populated by Gorkhas, the indigenous inhabitants of this place who share a lot in common with their brethren in Nepal. A Gorkhaland Movement demanding an autonomous hill state in Darjiling was in ascendancy throughout the 1980s and early 90s. Through a truce conducted with the Govt of India, an Autonomous Hill Council has been created with the leader of the Gorkhaland Movement, Subhash Ghisingh as the Chairman.

The rain prevented any sightseeing that day. From the balcony of my room in Craigmont, a guest house located about halfway up the hill overlooking D’ling, I could see towering mountains barely 5-6 kms in front of me. Tiny lights twinkled in the cottages spread throughout the tea gardens. Darjiling itself was awash in light with traffic in full flow. The temperature in Darjiling always hovers around the 10 C mark. It is never bone-chilling cold and snowfall is quite rare. Sadly, the much yearned for peace was nowhere to be sought. Honks of taxis and cars could be heard far below. I spent the night watching news channels interview a psycho who claimed to be Abhishek Bachchan’s girlfriend.

At about 3 AM the next morning we set out for Tiger Hill, a hill top at 2585 m about 11 kms from town which we were told offers great sunrise views. Apparently a lot of other tourists were told so too for the roads were chock-a-bloc with tourists at this unearthly hour. A drive of 45 mins through Ghoom and the Senchal Wildlife Sanctuary and a hike of 15 mins through a rock outcrop brought us to our destination. There were close to 300 people there, all waiting for the same sight. Soon the sun rose and painted in pink a massif that rose 8586 m in front of us, Kanchenjunga! The third highest peak in the world! Far to the right peeped out Mount Everest flanked by Mt. Makalu. The colour soon changed to a bright orange. The Teesta and its tributaries flowed towards the south. The snow-capped Chol range too made an appearance. People stood where they were…transfixed by this appearance of superb beauty.

         

When the spell broke we all proceeded back to D’ling. En route we stopped at Ghoom Monastery, a beautiful building with brilliant paintings whose entrance serves as a much sought after market for local goods. Further ahead we stopped at Batasia Loop, probably the most famous loop in the entire DHR system which too offers mind numbing views of Kanchenjunga. The track here looks down to a deep gorge on one side and the Gorkha War Memorial on the other. A recently planted garden here took away, in my opinion, much of the pristine beauty of this place. The rest of the day saw us exploring the Padmaja Naidu Zoological Park, a beautifully maintained zoo that is a treasure trove for people who want to know about Himalayan fauna. The elusive Red Panda and the Siberian Tiger are the prime attraction here. Adjoining the zoo is the Tenzing Norgay Himalayan Mountaneering Institute which was run by the great mountaineer himself. My favourite spot though was the untouched jungle that abutted the zoo and a trek into which was allowed. After barely walking for half a kilometre, you notice the utter loneliness around. There is no human sound to be heard. Cicadas and birds chirp. Thick Sal trees are all around. The ground is covered with fallen leaves. To your right the hillside descends steeply to a river flowing far below. For the third time that day I was bewitched! We also visited a beautiful butterfly museum and the ropeway site which was then sadly out of order. The hilltop is a particularly good place to check out the Mock Tudor Villas of the erstwhile British planters.

Darjiling is also the best place to have Momos, a tibetan speciality. It is a dumpling with a filling of either vegetables or meat (usually beef or pork).

     

The boiled vegetarian Momo was heavenly! And who can forget the Darjiling Tea? The locally available brew has a lingering aroma and a taste that is quite unlike the Darjiling we people have in our homes. Evening saw me visit Islamia restaurant in the main market for some taste of North Indian food. The return journey was a disaster. I walked back home in heavy rain (Darjiling has no public transport for city travel). Being unfamiliar with the route I took a longer route by mistake and was thoroughly drenched by the time I reached. The rain in the hills is nothing like the placid one we have here. It stings the skin and is cold, very cold. The wet Islamia dinner (Darjiling has no plastic bags) was what I had to make do with. Tomorrow would see me in Sikkim. 

Travelogue: Darjiling and Sikkim (Part I)

For some reason travelogues are the most read blogs. My previous one has almost double the readership of the others. So another one would do my hit-o-meter no harm! [:D]….So here comes my own Himalayan sojourn.

Darjiling (meaning the Land of the Thunderbolt) is a district in North Bengal. Before the 19th century, it was a forested uninhabited land, ruled alternatively by the Kingdoms of Sikkim and Nepal. Then came the British. Charmed by its climate and beauty, they made it their favoured summer getaway, a second Shimla for the Raj’s civil servants of Eastern India. They also introduced tea cultivation here, something that is synonymous with Darjiling now.

The journey from Hyderabad to New Jalpaiguri was a long one stretching for close to 40 hours. The Guwahati Express in which we travelled was maintained by the North East Frontier Railway and its condition, to put it mildly, was pathetic! Dirty curtains, hazy glass, soiled linen, old foam…and all this in AC 2 tier! What a contrast from the spic and span railways of South India. The journey till Calcutta was on familiar terrain and I wasnt very interested in the coutryside. However once we made our way into interior Bengal, the countryside changed. Flat paddy fields stretching till the horizon, tiny villages that wont look out of place in a Saratchandra novel and the smell of rain in the air! Ah! Heaven!

Bardhhaman, Rampurhat and Malda town later, we finally reached the bustling town of New Jalpaiguri, the Gateway to the North-East and the guardian of the Chicken’s Neck, the 21 km border that India shares with its North East. NJP as it is called is named after Jalpaiguri, the district headquarters about 50 kms to the south on the old Saidpur-Calcutta line. In the pre-partition era, this was the route that trains used and Jalpaiguri throbbed with life. Today it is an outpost on an insignificant branch line, condemned to slow decay by the inexorable hand of history while its upstart cousin flourishes barely 50 kms away.

NJP is a widespread town. Soldiers, traders and smugglers all flock to it, trying to make their way to Assam and beyond. The climate is damp, humid and warm throughout the year. It is also the starting point of the 87 km long Darjeeling Himalayan Railway, a 127 year old Narrow gauge line that is a World Heritage Structure and for years was the only comfortable way of reaching Darjiling from the plains. We bundled into the first class bogie of the tiny train; hauled by a diesel loco, to my extreme disappointment! The train moves very slowly..Indeed for the first hour, it was a very uncomfortable and hot journey for the passengers as the train slowly made its way past the streets and bylanes of Siliguri, the largest town in this area and the former terminus for this line. Soon forests started appearing along the Hill Cart Road which is today the fastest way to reach D’ling and which accompanies the line all the way. Tea gardens also started appearing but there was no sign of any mountain nearby. And then came Sukna, suddenly the landscape changed dramatically. Gone were the flat plains and the rice fields…thick wooded forests became the norm…there was a marked increase in the gradient and the train journey was in full flow. Rangtong and Chunabati were soon left behind and we were surprised to find ourselves on a mountain with the Teesta flowing far away. The train huffed and puffed its way past Tindharia, the place where the loco repair and maintenance workshop is located. Soon followed the jaw dropping Agony Point, the tightest curve on the line.

There was a nip in the air now and high mountains could be seen all around. We sat fascinated by the gorgeous scenery. Powering its way past Gayabari and Mahanadi the train reached the large town of Kurseong (pronounced: Khar-Sang).

En route it passed 6 Z shaped curves where the train reverses and then moves up another line to a higher altitude, a real engineering marvel. We switched to the road in Kurseong after having lunch there. It’s a picure-postcard colonial town dotted with many boarding schools which give a distinct Oxford like aura to this place. At about 1458 metres above sea level, we had climbed over 1350 m in 57 kms.

The journey by road is quicker. Tung, Dilaram, Sonada, Rangbul and Jor Bungalow all went past in quick succession as the road climbed rapidly. Clouds and mist obscured the vision and beautiful tea gardens and forests covered the steep hill sides. We reached Ghoom, the highest point en route to Darjeeling a little while later. At 2225 m above MSL, the feeling is at the top of the world. It is almost always misty and drizzling in Ghoom and the town itself is dominated by the magnificent Ghoom Monastery (more of it later!)…A short descent and the awe-inspiring Batasia loop later, we had finally reached Darjiling, our destination as of now!