Planning for idle days!
The idea of a trip to the Lakshadweep islands dawned on me from the time I started planning to visit the Andaman Islands in 2013. That is, three years from now. I didn’t want to make trips to those exotic islands within a very short span of time of visiting the Andamans, lest the charm of one fades the other. So, there were vacations in between – to the dry and arid Spiti Valley of the Himalayas, to holy Gomukh glacier, to the spotless white saline deposition in Bhuj, to the colourful state of Rajasthan, to the green meadows of the Hampta Pass. But Lakshadweep never left me. It was very much inside me. I knew it was a matter of time and opportunity that I would fly to those cluster of tiny islands in the Arabian Sea.
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| Planning for idle days |
Dussehera time in October 2016 seemed a good time. The weather would be perfect. Leave from
office is easier to get. And though in between there were other sea side vacations like Alleppy, Goa or Pondicherry, there were all extended weekend trips. So, a full-fledged vacation to the beach was long overdue, by my standard. Time had for the Lakshadweep plans to take shape. Tickets were booked a good eleven months in advance. Arrival on one Saturday, departure on the next. Contacts to the right people were made. Hundreds of mails flowed in and out of my mailbox. I scanned through dozens of mails to prepare the right itenary – the islands, the duration. It was to be on 8th October that we would take the only Air India flight that lands in Agatti. Incidentally it originates from Bangalore and reaches Agatti with a hop-on in Cochin where, in general, people from other parts of India take the flight to Agatti. It was a 22-year old 48-seater cute flight.
The initial euphoria: Start of a truly relaxing vacation
Agatti is undoubtedly one of the most scenic airports in the world. It is a small airstrip on a tiny island with water on either sides. From above, it looks like an elongated ear ring, surrounded by green water on all sides. After waking up early, with barely a couple of hours of sleep the night
before, and catching the morning flight from Bangalore, we waited with abated breath when the flight finally took off from Cochin. In 1.5 hours we would land on that airport. I had reserved window seats on either so that we don’t miss any action during landing. After an hour or so, I could see small
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| At Agatti Airport |
islands below. It was 12 noon. The flight was delayed by one hour. Otherwise we would have been in Agatti by then. And then cometh the moment. From the right windows of the aircraft we could see the airport. Just like it was in the hundreds of photos I had been checking in the last few months. In fact, it looked better. It was within seconds that the flight landed. It was a memorable experience. From either sides the green sea glittered. It was not the light green, but a dense green. Almost like a vast paddy field. There was a look of awe among the passengers. It was an unbelievable sight. We were taken to a small room. The luggage came in a van and we were handed over our luggage. No conveyor belt. It is the only flight that lands at Agatti every day. And that too except Sunday. Soon we met our guide from the SPORTS authority. They are in charge of the entire hospitality of the islands. There is no private hotel in these islands. Only government administrated and regulated accommodation and transport. This is to preserve the delicate ecological environment around the place. We were taken in a car through narrow roads that snaked through rows of coconut trees and a couple of huts in between. Soon, we were brought to the jetty. It was the green that we saw from above. We found this green in parts during our visit to the Andaman Islands, especially when the ship was anchoring the Neil Island. But here that green extended till the horizon. Turquoise green, emerald green…whatever you call. But the feeling of looking at the vast stretches of green water is never effectively brought out in any language. We were yet to recover from our initial euphoria. Soon we found ourselves on the boat to Thinakara, the island where we were to spent the next seven nights. It was a slight change of the initial plan. In those seven nights, two were supposed to be spent in another island called Kadmat. But due to some technical issues, the boat facility was unavailable. So, we had two options. Either spent all seven nights in Thinakara or spent a few days in between in
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| Approaching Thinakara and Bangaram |
Bangaram, that was right in front of the Thinakara Island. We preferred Thinakara as it was less crowded and peaceful.
“How many people are there in Thinakara?”, I asked a staff of the resort later on.
Counting on this fingers and cross-checking with his colleague, he replied, “Eight staffs and three more locals. That’s all total eleven of us in this island”
To top of it, on the first night there was just one more family. And the whole island was ours! Such a peaceful start to the vacation. A true vacation, indeed, has just taken off.
In the secluded Thinakara island…
After around an hour of boat ride, we arrived at the Thinakara Island. In the last half an hour of the ride, I walked up to the snout of the boat. Legs hanging down. The water was very shallow. I could the bottom of the sea.
“How deep is the sea here?”
“Hardly a few feet. You can stand here. Water is chest-high”
There were darker patches at places.
“Those are the corals”, remarked the boatmen.
We could see the Bangaram as well as the Thinakara Island and green water separating the two. A few from the crew guided the boatman, ensuring the bottom and the coral does not collide. The speed of the boat was reduced substantially. I was enjoying the cool breeze. I had all the time in the world. Dark clouds hovered overhead. It was far off.
“You should go inside now. It’s going to rain”, said a crew.
I was thinking of sitting there for a few more minutes. But soon it started raining. Experience.
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| Relaxing |
When we arrived at Thinakara, we could see around 4 resorts in a row. A few coconut trees, a couple of hammocks and a dozen or so beach chairs lay scattered around. And all these were stacked on white sand. Emerald green water, white sands. rugged shacks…just what the doctored prescribed for an ideal vacation, where you can forget the world outside. Oh yes! The most important device to maintain communication with the outside world was gasping for breath. Our mobile phones were hardly able to detect any network. I switched off my mobile phone. How about trying to live a life like Robinson Crusoe for some days?
The evening was pleasant, to say the least. The water gradually turned a darker shade of green, the sun from yellow to red as it moved behind the Bangaram Island until it hid behind the clouds. Just before sunset we set out exploring the islands by walking on the skirting beaches. Those are evening walks that have good medicinal value not only for the heart and blood pressure, but also the healing power of the mind and soul. Pure air, placid waves, warm sunlight and limitless thoughts. With no proper roads in the island and no mode of transport except walking (even not a bicycle!) the only
sound you hear is the whistling of the breeze through the coconut trees and straws of the shacks. Fortunately for us, most of the days were sunny . What I was seeing felt more like a photo from a table calendar or a wallpaper. We kept walking. At times jumping over some dried and dead branches of coconut trees, at times standing still, mesmerised by Nature. I clicked photos, knowing very well that I was trying to capture only a fraction of the visual delight. The warm touch and the saline smell of the sea breeze, the soft feel of the moist sand as walked alone, the sound of twittering birds sitting on an invisible branch on some trees that weave the magic remain a proprietary of this place and this moment. Taking a photo of the moment is like walking by a party hall and thinking you know all the fun and food inside. That brings me to the food served in the resort. Delicious fresh fish along with the aroma of home-cooked food made the stay even more enjoyable.
On the last evening of our stay, Debreena and Gudiya tried their hand at kayaking. They said it was a lovely experience and that they could see corals from the surface of the water. Later that evening Debreena had a bad sprain in her left leg, thanks to the hour-long session in kayaking.
Some nights were cloudy, some were clear. Some cloudy nights became clear. Sometimes in the dead of nights I heard it rain when the moon and stars had shone brightly when we went to sleep. The weather knows no rule here. Nature rules. The sky is studded with stars. The moonlight glittered like silver. I sat on a cane armchair and looked up. I didn’t know for how long. It’s just so beautiful. So
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| A natural wallpaper |
serene, so peaceful. There are no morning alarms to wake me up. The mind is getting repaired from all the damages it had suffered from the hectic city life. The eyes are soothed by the pleasant green colour, the ear is rested from the high pitch honks and jarring noise, the feet are pampered by the soft touch of the sand and my mind is free to roam around without any thoughts of official deadlines, escalation. I know the world is just as fine without me. When I return I will pick up the thread from where I left. Till then all I can think of is getting soaked in sea waves, white sand, dark clouds, twinkling stars, silvery moon and all that Nature has surrounded me with.
The island is a small one. Around 4 km in circumference. So, one evening we tried to cover it from the left side of our cottages. After going about a kilometre, we realised we will fall short of time. The next evening, we tried from the other side and felt short of time yet again. The third day we set off in the afternoon. It was cloudy. The frontal area still had some stray sounds in the form of voices of men, women and children and sound of speed boats that ferried between the islands. But once we started walking along the sides of the island, those sounds disappeared. We could see vast stretches of beaches with not a single living soul around. The sand stretches were guarded by coconut trees – small and big. Some bigger ones fell on the sand beach, unable to deep root themselves enough in the loose sand. They lay down, black and bruised. Fungus grew on their trunks. They came from Nature and would soon dissolve in Nature. Beside those huge trees, were coconuts that fell from them. And from those coconuts, small coconut trees in the form of shoots sprouted. I have not seen anything like this before. As the old trees feel, new ones took their place on earth. New leaves, new greenery gave way to old dried trunks. Such is the cycle of life. The walk was one of the most peaceful walks of my life. All that encapsulates the sense organs are the green sea, blue sky and long leaves of the coconut trees, with arms stretched to reach the sea and the sky. The beach was strewn with dead corals and live or dead shells. We passed by a lighthouse. Lighthouse is one thing I was fascinated in childhood. I wondered how life in a lighthouse would be - standing on the shore all alone and sighting an odd ship once in a while.
We reached a place, diagrammatically opposite to our cottages, where the white stretch of sand tapers to make a mini peninsula. In fact, during low tides one can walk on the sand stretch up to the two small adjacent non-inhabitant Perli 1 and Perli 2 islands.
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| Molten gold |
During our return journey, we could see the sun setting behind the clouds and Bangaram. At one turn, we had to walk on the waters as the vegetation almost reached the water. We paddled on the waters. It was low tide. So we didn’t have much problem. We found a couple of cranes and a few local birds on the way. By the time we came to our cottage, it was sunset time. The clear waters of the sea looked like molten gold. I sat on the beach, mesmerized. The moon appeared. The stars appeared. I returned to the cottage. The island skirting remains one of the most memorable walks of my life.
Island hopping, turtle watching
While the flight lands in Agatti, there is no accommodation in Agatti. So, one is transferred to the Thinakara or Bangaram, depending on this preference. Bangaram remains the larger of the two. We were put up in Thinakara. My wife, Debreena, wanted to spend a night in Bangaram, instead of all seven nights in Thinakara. But as she met people transferred from Bangaram to Thinakara, she realised that Thinakara remained the better option. Being too crowded, Bangaram lacked the serenity and personalised hospitality that she has been receiving here at Thinakara. Nonetheless, one day we decided for a trip to Bangaram.
It was post lunch. At around 2:30 PM we set out for the 1.5 km ride to Bangaram. On the way, we were astounded to see living corals from above the surface. No glass bottom boat was required. The stretch was so full of the corals. As we neared the island, we found the water very placid. Leave aside
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| Sandbank at Bangaram |
waves, there were hardly any ripples on the surface. There was not much wind blowing. It was stagnant air and we could feel it. It was more like a lake here. The water was deep. There were shoals of fishes swimming near the shore. The island was crescent shaped. There were cottages lined up a few metres from the shore.
We landed and proceeded towards the right, where we saw a stretch of sandbank. It was low tide and we walked quite a distance into the sea on shallow waters. A lonely crane sat on those sand beds and I managed to click some photos. From here the distant islands of Thinakara, Perli 1 and Perli 2 were visible, as also the stretch of sand that connects the islands during low tide. During other times the stretch gets submerged in water and it is difficult to wade between the islands. The white sand stretch looked like a glittering garland between them. We continued proceeding on the right side of the island towards the helipad. We passed across some low lying trees and coconut trees. We collected some large and beautiful dead sea shells on the way. Then we came to a place where we could see another large S-shaped sand stretch. But to reach that we had to cross the water body in between, which was about 200 metres. Behind the rocks, some red colourful crabs played hide and seek. Another crane strolled on that white sandbank. Just a lone crane. And no one else. There was water on all four sides. Clear green water. Far away the leaves of the coconut trees swayed to the winds. There was no one around. The setting sun had its rays scattered all over, tinging everywhere from the sky to the clouds to the sandbanks to the seas a pleasant shade of yellow and
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| The lone crane |
orange. The sandbank stretched a long way, zig-zagging through the green waters. We wanted to stay there for hours to soak the serenity. We wanted to reach the tip of the sandbank. But we also had the thought at the back of our mind that we had to get back to the shore before the high tide returns.
We then walked through the woods and rows of coconut trees. Here there were localities around, cutting coconuts, getting the fishing nets ready. We had tea in the restaurant. Then we headed towards the left side of the island. Debreena and gudiya took rides on the water scooter. I clicked the fishes that had come near the boat and were feasting on the fungus that had clung to its bottom. Once we left the rows of cottages on the left side the serenity returned. But so was the dusk. We realised that it was time to bid adieu to the beautiful island. Finding way to the Thinakara Island through the corals was not easy and it required some light of the day to ensure the safe passage. By the time we reached Thinakara, the light from the lighthouse was sweeping over the area, the lights of the cottages were glowing and a handful of orange rays from the setting peeped through the western clouds.
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| Stingray |
Another day we decided to go on island hopping. There are two more islands – Perli 1 and Perli 2 – near the Thinakara Island. Those islands can be reached by walking over the sand stretch during low tides. The other option to reach those islands is by boat. We took the second option. The boat took us to the Perli 1 and Perli 2 islands. Those islands are uninhabited by any humans. Small islands, full of vegetation. Large stretches of white sand encircled them. The water was shallow during most of the ride. More than shallowness, there were large live corals that could easily hit the paddles of the boat if proper precaution is not taken care of. We saw a stingray in one of the islands. There were live
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| Turtle swimming under water |
molluscs on the sea beach. Not a footprint around. People hardly come here. Mostly they stay in Bangaram or Thinakara for one or two nights each and leave the place. They don’t explore the area around. On the way back, we crossed a stretch of water which was full of turtles. We saw at least a hundred of them during the fifteen-minute journey. Some big, some small. Some very close to our boat, some far off. I didn’t know the turtles, with their apparently bulky appearance, could swim at such tremendously high speed. When we returned to the shore, the boatman showed us troughs on the shores, where, presumably, the turtles
lay their eggs.
“You can find turtles more often on full moon nights, when they come to lay eggs here”, he remarked.
The colourful world below the sea
We did snorkeling on a number of occasions. We did it near a ship wreck. We did it near the shore. I had bought an underwater camera to capture the beauty. The first time we did snorkeling in the Andamans three years ago. The first time I had a glimpse of the world below the sea, I realised how
we all have no clue of what goes on under the serene and placid surface of the water. Though I was able to catch most of the action on the first day of snorkelling in my camera, it’s unfortunate that some technical problem meant that the camera stopped functioning henceforth. So, on the other occasions when I explored the world of coloured coral and schools of fishes, the beauty remains with me. I had also bought a special gear for snorkeling. I had also bought one for my daughter. She is seven and I was sure we wouldn’t find one for her size in the island. So, all three of us started exploring the world. It is a world that should be felt. Our ears don’t come in much use as the world below is as silent as space. Our limbs work hard to keep us afloat and provide us the direction, though our life jackets actually help in our floating. It’s our eyes that take precedence. Colourful living corals fill that world. They definitely have names in the subjects of biology, but the names do not express the beauty. The shoals of large jet black or silvery white fishes that swim around are a feast to the eyes. My wife picked up a red starfish. Another day we found a deep blue star fish. We saw hundreds of tiny green fishes move together. We saw corals of all colours, shapes and sizes. There were big fishes and small ones. As the rays of the sun penetrated to the seabed, we were enthralled by what lay before us. The colours that lie above the sea are only a fraction of what lies below. It seems someone has designed that world
when colour was available in abundance. And imagination knew no bounds. And yet it’s a silent world. It’s a world where one does not disturb the other. Where the corals and the fishes are in mutual harmony.
To anyone who has not seen it, it is worth a try. It is a world we have no clue whatsoever. The placid ripples of the sea give no hint of all the activities and colours that are below it. It is a world that’s beyond our imagination and wildest dreams. It’s a world in itself. It a world we can be guest for a few hours. But we don’t own any part of it. It’s a world of colours and imagination, of corals and fishes. Moving around that world is like moving around in a live vast aquarium. An Aquarium without boundaries!
The world beyond the islands
The islands are truly secluded. There are intermittent mobile signals. Even when signal is there, the voice quality is not clear. There is hardly any net connectivity. No Facebook. Messages from WhatsApp take hours to get delivered or received. It is as good as zero. There is one TV in the dining room. And the channel played is the Hindi music channel. So, it was a relaxing vacation, no doubt. I kept my phone switched off in the initial few days and then put it on silent mode. And from whatever messages I received in those limited time and bandwidth, I felt the outside world is too much chaotic and, for most part, unreasonable. WhatsApp messages came with cheap jokes, that seemed so out of context. Wishes for Dussehera flooded my SMS and WhatsApp and I wondered whether the forwarded photos and wishes really had any heart into them or did my friends and relatives send them so that the checkboxes are ticked? Official mails talked about the deadlines and it reminded me of chasing the wild geese.
One morning, I felt a slight tremor and found I was dreaming about an earthquake. After I woke up I almost forgot about the dream. But then the TV new channels got a “Breaking News”. My father-in-law saw that and tried reaching us a few times. Our phone was switched off. He whatsapped and that didn’t reach us. He grew more panicked, fearing tsunami and what not. And anxiety and tension gripped the outside world, all when we were having a peaceful breakfast. At last we were able to convince all that things are just as quiet and serene as before, with or without the earthquake.
Some other tourists came and insisted on switching to the news channel. In the name of “live coverage” and “breaking news”, they broadcasted news of turbulence, terror, corruption and all the dark things you can think of. Wonder why a news reporter does not come to Lakshadweep and cover the serenity. Surely, here the world follows the rules laid down by Nature. Here the hammock gently sways in the sea breeze and the sea waves breaks where it is supposed to break every single time. The uncertainty and unpredictability that man has created for himself are dished out in the name of news.
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| I didn't care about the world in those 7 days |
The world outside seemed too much of a cacophony to me. I was cocooned in this tiny island. I was content with the sound bites of the sea waves and gentle winds, of birds twittering and bees flying. I decided to give my ears some rest, my mind some peace. I decided to live those seven days with minimal interaction with the outside world. Its only in our thoughts that we feel so important and indispensable. In the actual world we are an employee id in the organisation we work and another member in the extended family of the world. Some will miss us for a few days, some a few weeks. But eventually life will move on for everybody. It’s like you throw a pebble in a lake. There is an immediate repercussion and ripples the moment it sinks. But within a few moments the lake water is as placid as it was. My seven days of absence from the outside world is actually seven days of dedicated presence and interaction with my family and inner self – the inner world. While the world will hardly realise my presence a month from now, the memories and effect of this vacation will be etched in me forever.
A rainy day in Lakshadweep
On the day before our departure, we had plans to do snorkelling one final time. But then Nature had something else in store for us. It started drizzling the night before when we were having dinner. The rain drops on the sand made a thumping sound. The sky was overcast. At night my sleep was disturbed by an increased sound of pitter-patter. Morning when I woke up I found dark clouds had gathered till the horizon. The distant Bangaram island which was easily visible so long, lay hidden in the mist. The ones who were supposed to catch the flight from Agatti departed when we were having breakfast. The colour of the sea became dark green, something that deserved respect. Only a faint shade was to be seen. We sipped the morning coffee hoping the sky would clear by the day. The ocean was rough. It was no more the placid one we were used to. It reminded me of my father when he got angry. You don’t want to mess during that time. You quietly obey whatever he says, no questions asked. You know the time is not right to try anything new. You also know that the dark clouds will give way to sunny days.
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| Clouds hover overhead |
For us, however, the clouds did not move. They stayed the whole day. And it rained unabated. About two months back I had seen the rains in the Himalayas. Now it’s raining in the ocean. The wind whistled passed the cottage. The coconut trees swayed. And the sea roared. It was a lazy day. But it was a new experience. To see it rain on the sea the whole day. And we were so helpless in front of mother Nature. We couldn’t even take a walk. We could not snorkel. We enjoyed the rain. Drizzling at times, taking a pause in between and returning with an increased vigour the very next moment. The music that the ear heard the whole day was the most relaxing and soothing the world has ever produced. The visuals the eyes enjoyed calmed down the mind, body and soul. Soon, I stopped regretting not to get another chance at snorkeling. I was delighted to soak in rain with all my senses like never before.
Families came and families went…
This vacation of ours was strikingly different from all other previous vacations in the sense that we spent all seven nights under the same roof. We arrived here on day one and stayed here for a continuous seven nights. We unpacked the first day and packed the last day. In all our earlier vacations there were hardly two consecutive nights where we stayed at the same place. At the same time, we found people staying in these islands for only a couple of nights. Thus, it gave us a unique opportunity to meet so many people in this one week. I may not know the name of all. Even if I know, I will use abbreviations for them. But it was an interesting experience, nonetheless. In the small span of seven days, whereas in Bangalore I hardly meet or interact any stranger, here I met quite a few men and women. People from different walks of life. People of different age and country. People whose world is so different from mine. People who looked at the sea and thought so many things like I did and yet I don’t have any clue of who they were or their world. So, apart from marveling at the Nature the moments of interaction I had with other tourists, however brief they were, provided me a richer experience. Now they are all in the world of their own. But just as they have taken a minuscule part of Lakshadweep with them, likewise they have left a tiny part of them somewhere in Lakshadweep.
The two Spanish ladies
Aged around thirty, they arrived with us. Were in the same flight as ours. And also took the same boat to Thinakara.
“We came to see Kerala. We are here for two weeks.”
“Only Kerala for two weeks? You don’t want to go further north, to say, Taj Mahal?”
“No. There are so many things to see in Kerala itself that we need at least 15 days to visit the state. We will go to Munnar from here. Then to the backwaters of Alleppy. We are looking forward to them.”
“If you don’t mind, how different is the Ibiza beach from this one? I heard its one of the best in Europe”
“Oh..a lot. It’s totally opposite. That beach is a party beach. You have loud music and song and dance everywhere. And you hardly hear people here!”
“And the colour of the water?”
“I have never seen this green…its blue in Ibiza. I love this colour. I didn’t see it earlier”
Wanderlust!
The family with two daughters:
The middle-aged couple had two daughters.
“One is doing engineering in Noida IIIT and the other is in class seven. This is a very nice place. So quiet and peaceful. But my daughters are getting bored.”
“Why? Didn’t they try snorkelling?”
“No, they were afraid. Also they are saying that there is nowhere else to go. Today morning my mother-in-law called and was surprised to hear we didn’t do any local sightseeing. Anyway, this vacation is only for four days. Two days here, two in Bangaram.”
Some people wait for their vacation to begin. Some wait for vacations to end. And some don’t take vacations at all. The boundary walls of their houses limit their world.
The TV-addicts:
One night we had dinner under the open sky. But this family carried all their dinner plates to the dining area, where the TV was switched on. They changed to the cartoon channel. The kids watched the cartoons when the moon generously shone on the sand beaches. I didn’t have any chance to talk to them. They were mostly glued to the TV whenever I saw them. Their kids were given tablets and mobiles to play with, when the waves had thrown open their arms. Their daughter, aged around twelve, played with my daughter one evening. Her younger brother joined them. The couples were engrossed in the TV as pleasant winds blew the sands across us. At night, when my daughter and the girl were playing, the boy came rubbing his teary eyes.
“What happened why are you crying?” the sister asked.
“Mummy slapped me”
“Why?”
“She said I didn’t eat properly”
“But that was two hours back. She didn’t tell then. What did she tell now?”
“She asked me to drink a glass of milk”
“Let’s go and see if its available. Its already 10:30”
They went to get the glass of milk. I was watching all this from the hammock. Something rectangular glowed in the hands of the parents sitting on the hammock in front of their cottage. They were busy with their phones.
The doctors who outsourced childcare
The couple were doctors. Something we came to know later. The man brought bare minimum clothes and I found him mostly in an awkwardly short trunk most of the time. They went for beach walking, kayaking, snorkelling. And all those time a DSLR hung from the left shoulder of the person. And all throughout their son, Arush, made mountains of sand near their cottage. When another family, who had two sons, came, Arush joined them. Arush played with those boys, ate with those boys, laughed with those boys. And the doctors, who deals with the body and, apparently, mind, of humans thought it best to leave their ten-year old son with others. Perhaps training him to be independent from childhood. Because I saw Arush also carrying an expensive DSLR. And the mother was busy carrying herself and her skimpy clothes. Somebody forgot to carry the basic duties towards their offspring.
The visiting Indo-Brazilian couple
I was relaxing on the armchair in front of our resort. My daughter was playing with the sand. An old lady walked passed us. Then stopped. And clicked pictures.
“Where are you from?”
“I am from Brazil. And you?”
“India…from Bangalore, but originally from Kolkata”
“My husband is from Kolkata. He was born and brought up there, but is in Brazil for the last thirty years. We are staying in Bangaram and have come to see this island.”
I think I saw her husband pass by a few minutes back. Now he was back. Plainly simple.
“These people are from Kolkata”
“Are you from Kolkata?” I was trying to initiate a conversation.
“I’m from Brazil. I have been there for thirty years. However, I do visit India every couple of years”
Eh?
He looked a complete Bengali from Kolkata as soon as he opened his mouth. The Bengali ascent was pronounced. And yet he wanted to disown his roots, conceal his identity, chose to ignore the memories of his schools and the lanes that led to his home.
The aged and confused couple
These aged couple had plans to go to another island, called Kadmat, like us. And like us and many other tourists they were stranded in Thinakara or Bangaram. Being on the wrong side of fifty, they were neither able to walk for long to encircle the island nor engage in water sport activities. They got bored in Thinakara. They wanted to leave to Cochin after a couple of nights in Thinakara. From Cochin they wanted to go to Munnar tea estates and Periyar National Park. But for these they had to prepone their air tickets, they had to book hotels in Munnar and Periyar, make necessary cab arrangements. And all with no access to net. It was tough coordinating all these. They left Thinakara for Bangaram after two nights, still unsure of their travel plans. On the day we went to Bangaram we met them, strolling on the beach.
“Are you not preponing your air tickets to Cochin?”
“We liked this place. We are decided to stay here. It’s a bit hot here, but we liked this place.”
On the day we left, we found them on our boat to the Agatti airport.
“We felt bored after two nights in Bangaram. Let’s land in Cochin and then will work out something.”
“So, you have preponed your tickets?”
“No. Let’s see if there is availability in the flight”
Once we cleared the Security Check-in, I found the husband exiting from the airport. Obviously, they did not get the seats. They will have to sail again to one of the islands. A whole day wasted in unwanted transfers, when they could have easily spent on the armchair watching the ripples break on the white sand. Some people are so confused in life! Or maybe life’s adventures lie within the unplanned travels.
The Bengali drama troupe
Bengalis are the most fish-loving people in India. But this Bengali family made the quiet island of Thinakara a fish market from the time they set foot here. They arrived in the same flight as ours. In this quiet island they made their presence felt more than anyone else. The two children aged around seven and ten kept calling each other in high pitches. Their mother called them from another corner of the island in equally high pitch. The father, mostly engrossed into his DSLR, yelled at his kids at times when he thought things went out of control. There was one more addition to the family – the brother of the man, the uncle of the kids. He was in mid-twenties but his maturity level grossly lagged at least ten years behind. He mingled more with the nephews, pulling their legs. The nephews shot back in equal vigour. At one time even pulling out the pant of the uncle when he was swimming. When the Bengali family was around, there was no shortage to drama. Anything could have happened any time from any corner of the island when these kids were around. Even the staffs were relieved when they left. After all, one night even when we had both fried fish and chicken curry for dinner, the Bengali family thought otherwise.
“Can we have boiled egg?”
“No”, was the form reply from the staff. That was the only time I heard any staff saying “No” in my seven days of stay.
The newly-married Hyderabadi couple
They were from Bangalore. This was the honeymoon couple, where the husband seemed confused as to what to do. Everything he tried did not yield his desired result. He took up snorkeling and tried to swim to the area where the corals were in abundance, But the wife was much faster and he lagged behind. Ultimately he returned back long faced. He tried kayaking, but was unable to reach half way when his wife reached a long way. Then the couple did kayaking together and reached Perli 1 and Perli 2 one evening. The husband photographed the wife from different angles, typical of newly married couples. They stayed between themselves and am sure had a great time with none to disturb or distract them – not even mobile connectivity. The husband surely had saved a few bucks as there is no shop around to buy anything. But he would have a lifetime ahead to test that special skill of his wife. During the time of departure, the wife forgot her jacket. May be, the shopping will start from buying the jacket. And there will be no stopping from then. After a few months or years, I am sure the husband will wait outside a shop in one of the Bangalore malls, checking sms, WhatsApp or playing video games. While the wife will be busy shopping.
“Why can’t you support me in shopping or helping me in choosing the right dress? Look at the other husbands”. I am sure she would complain once she is out of the shop after an hour or so.
The couple who loved to find faults
Upon arrival if there was one person whose cribbing voice was heard the most, it was of the fifty-something man, who was aghast to learn that all his plans to sail to the adjoining islands of Kadmat and Kavaretti had to be abandoned due to technical issue with the boat.
” So, you expect us to stay in only Bangaram and Thinakara for all seven nights? This is too much!”, I heard the husband saying his guide at the airport.
We found them occupying the cottage beside us in the last two nights.
“The food in Bangaram is not good at all. It’s always cold”
“One night they ran short of drinking water in Bangaram. I called the AGM…”
“There are too many caterpillars in Bangaram”
“The water here smells awful. After taking shower, it feels so sticky. Have you noticed?”
“The cottages in Bangaram are hardly a few feet from the water. And the water is also very deep. We can’t take a bath in the Bangaram beach”
“Here the beach is fine, but too many crabs at night”
The list was almost endless.
“But the place is very nice. We are already planning our second trip here”. Amen! At last I heard something that didn’t sound like a complaint. They flew back with us. They looked happy and cheerful. Perhaps finding faults was one of the bad habits of the couple. We all have vices. Some are very apparent, some camouflaged.
The Professor who road-tripped India on scooter
“Are you a Malayali?”
“No.Bengali”
“Oh ok…I thought you are a staff over here”.
Needless to say my first impression of the sixty-something looking person was not very good. True, I was roaming around in my shorts and a T-shirt. But from no angle did I look like a staff of the resort. At least, I would like to think that way.
The next day at the breakfast table, he sounded more rational. And I got more insights into his life.
“You know I am a professor my profession and traveler by nature. And I have covered almost entire India. I mostly traveled by scooter. I and my wife”
“Scooter? But then you have to refill every two hundred kilometres”
“Yes. In India on highways there is petrol pump every 200 km. And we always carried minimal luggage. I told my wife to carry salwar suits with dark colours so that she can wear for longer and I carry two jeans. From Gujarat to Kanyakumari I traveled by scooter. Twice I went to Leh by bike. I went last August to Leh again with my wife. I have not visited Lakshadweep. I told my wife to join me. But she had developed some respiratory problem during the Leh trip. So, she wanted to take rest this time. Then I called my friend. And he agreed. Once I went to Lucknow for a marriage and someone told me about the Pindari Glacier trek. Can you believe in the month of December, I trekked the Pindari glacier? With warm clothes and some bottles of brandy borrowed from the army camp”
“Did you visit anywhere abroad?”
“There are so many places to see in India that most of my travel is in India. Each state has a specialty. Once I went to stay with my son in US. I wanted to hire a scooter. But they only drive Harley Davidson as far as two wheelers is concerned. Theirs is left hand drive, they drive at almost double the speed we do. However, I did visit a few of their places. To be honest, they know the art of marketing. Same with Europe. Their places look better in photos. Our places look better in reality”
“Where is your next trip?”
“Perhaps Australia. I always wanted to visit that place. And may be Africa after that. You see, I am seventy-two. I am aware that time is running out for me. Let me see how best I can travel before my sunset”
While we all have a limited time to spend on earth, the aged a person becomes, the more aware he or she seems to be of this fact. Perhaps they feel that there are still so much to do and they are always jittery when the clarion call for them will come. Or perhaps they have fallen in love with life and all that comes with it – material objects, relationships…It is not easy to let things go just like that. When we planned for the Lakshadweep or, for that matter, any trip, we book the return tickets. And yet during the end of the vacation, we drag our feet towards the airport. If we can fall in love with a place and its people after spending seven days, is it only humane to fall in love with a place where one spent seventy years or so? From the time of our arrival to this Earth, our return journey is booked. In this one journey we dance, we sing, we quarrel, we fight, we draw lines, we paint pictures, we love, we hate, we run, we rest, we scale the summit of success, we dive to the nadir of sorrow – apparently oblivious of the promise of the return journey.
The AGM
He had a great contribution towards developing the islands of Bangaram and Thinakara and have grand plans to develop Parli 1 and Parli 2. He worked day and night, interacting with almost all the tourists of Thinakara and Bangarama. He spent substantial time talking to them and getting their feedback. It was hard to believe that he was a government employee and not the manager of a private hotel. His appearance was casual and informal, to the extent that it was more like the clothes we were at home. Perhaps, the reason is, he believes that the islands are his home.
"My actual home is in Agatti, which is just an hour from here. And yet I manage to go there and meet my family only once a month. I have to take care of the guests and staffs. This is also my home"
He is one simple, sincere and dedicated workaholic who works tirelessly from dawn to dusk.
"I am desperately trying to promote tourism here. People go to Maldives and Mauritius and spend lakhs I want them to spend the amount here. At the same time, I am mindful of the fact that I can't expose this delicate eco-system too much. That will destroy the beauty and the Nature. I cant make it like Goa"
His name is Mr. Umer.
The ever-smiling and helpful staffs of the resort
No words are enough to praise the simple down-to-earth staffs of the resort in Thinakara. In that remote island, where they are dependent on Agatti for everything from washing powder to drinking water and cooking items to toiletries. They ensured hospitality of the highest quality to the guests. Not the fancy, 5-star type hospitality, but the one that you expect when you visit an old friend or dear relative.There was honesty and sincerity. There was a genuine intention on their part to make sure the stay was enjoyable and memorable. Their efforts from helping us in snorkeling to cooking to cleaning rooms to serving the morning tea at our cottages ensured we not only have had great memories about the place, but also about them.
"When will you come again?", they asked us on the morning of our departure.
I wanted to tell them I wanted to live here forever.
"Lets see...may be in a year or two", was all I could say eventually.
The dots on the Indian map
In school, when we were asked to draw the map of India, I don’t remember putting dots on the islands for Lakshadweep. Somewhere detached from mainland India, in the Arabian Sea lies this union territory. When we landed here, we discovered a world that is beyond the dots. A couple of months earlier I was exploring the Alpine meadows near Manali in the Hampta Pass. And now I discovered another part of my motherland that lies on the other end of the spectrum. All my childhood I sang the national anthem “Jana Gana Mana”in the morning prayers. The books told me to love my motherland. Cricket taught me to cheer for my motherland. Army made me proud of my motherland. My journeys taught me to feel the pulse of my motherland. My journeys through my motherland took me beyond the historical facts and geographical locations of India. While the school text books taught me the country India, my travel introduced me to my motherland India.
Now the dots on the Arabian Sea means much more than mere dots to me. So, when my daughter grows up and learns her geography lessons, I hope she does not make the mistake I did. I hope she would put the dots, name the place and recollect her vacation with her parents when she was just seven!
Dinner was vegetarian (or as they typically say: pure vegetarian. Though I am yet to figure out what an impure vegetarian meal would consist of!), just like it had been for lunch. There was no option of any non-vegetarian food. After all, its a part of an ashram or religious and holy place. So, it was detox not only for the alveoli, but also for the digestive system. We returned to our room with the orchestral sound of frogs croaking and crickets chirping loudly. 
