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    Paradise breached

    Synopsis

    While the Andamans are great for water sport enthusiasts Nivedita Choudhuri was shocked at the state of the beaches.


    Things certainly looked rosy as our Air Deccan plane flew over turquoise waters and landed at Veer Savarkar airport in Port Blair. We looked forward to a week of lazing around on fine white sands, trekking and snorkelling amid the natural beauty of the Andaman islands.

    We checked into our hotel and emerged a couple of hours later to explore our surroundings. Our first stop was the Cellular Jail, an inescapable reminder of Port Blair's bleak past. Built over two decades by the British at the turn of the 20th century, the Cellular Jail’s dingy and solitary cells were far worse than the dormitories in prison blocks erected earlier.

    The prisoners endured grim conditions and most died long before their 20 year sentences were up. Much more about their plight was brought home to us during the sound-and-light show, which is held daily. Today, of course, the cellular jail is just a grim reminder of the past; the present is dominated by more pleasant pursuits.

    Like those offered by the water sports complex right near the jail. That’s where paddle boats, glass-bottomed boats, kayaks, water scooters and other equipment are available aplenty to tempt water sports enthusiasts. We left our hotel early next morning for a day trip to Ross and Viper islands.

    Ross Island, a few km from Aberdeen jetty (talk about names from the past!) at Port Blair, has no life. No settlements are allowed on the island by the authorities. During British rule, however, the island was the administrative headquarters of the territory and had everything from stores, water treatment plant, church and tennis court to printing press, secretariat, hospital and cemetery.

    On our way to Viper island, I saw the passenger liner MV Harshavardhan safely anchored at the jetty. Itbrought back fond memories of my earlier visit to Port Blair on board the ship in December, 1983. The ship had seemed to be of titanic proportions then and I had been completely enamoured by it — as only an eight-year-old can be! I still recall the swimming pool on the deck and how some quick-thinking ladies made good use of it by washing clothes in it!

    The tiny and serene (and utterly mischristened!) Viper island is named after the vessel which carried Lt Archibald Blair of the East India Company to the isle more than 200 years ago. Executions were widespread on the palm-fringed island and Lord Mayo’s assassin was one of the many prisoners who met their end here. Not a very pleasant past there either!


    We ended our day with a trip to Port Blair’s North Bay, which has its own patch of reef and is perfect for snorkelling. My husband took to the water – he had borrowed snorkelling gear from a friend, but I got cold feet and chickened out at the last minute.

    Disappointment awaited me as we made our way to Corbyn’s Cove the next day. Driving through the deserted roads, we just couldn’t wait to hit the beach. From what I could remember of my earlier trip, Corbyn’s Cove had been extremely clean and secluded, with not a speck of dirt in sight.

    But what lay in front of me now was very depressing indeed. Vendors of all hues noisily hawked their wares while mounds of garbage – broken glass, blades, slippers, plastic bags, coffee and ice cream cups – lay strewn around. The air was stale and there were simply too many people around.

    I began to wish I had never come. The memories of the good old days would have stayed with me and ignorance would have been bliss in this case. If Corbyn’s Cove proved a let-down, Wandoor beach was worse. Back then, it had seemed like paradise: a beautiful stretch of sand on which lay tree trunks at regular intervals, bleached white by long exposure to sun and tide.

    It now wore a jaded look after being battered by the tsunami. The beach was quite filthy and heaps of empty coconut shells were scattered here and there – discarded callously by tourists after their thirst had been quenched. We booked a taxi for a trip around town the next day. First on our agenda was the Chatham Saw Mill, reportedly one of the oldest and largest in Asia. It is built on a tiny island and connected to Port Blair by a bridge. The mill is a storehouse of timber like Padauk.

    Lt Blair, after whom the capital of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands is named, first reached the isle of Chatham while conducting a survey of the islands to find out where a harbour could be established. We spent a couple of hours at the Samudrika Marine Museum, which has an interesting show about the history of the islands, its geography, marine life, tribals and archaeology. The collection of shells and coral there is incredible, and people were queuing up to get themselves photographed with the amazing specimens on display.


    The Anthropological Museum illustrates the lives of the local tribes with miniature models of the tools used by them and their clothes on display. You can even spend hours pouring over heavy tomes at the well-stocked museum library. Not one to get weary of museums, we made a beeline for the fisheries museum that is much preferred by children, thanks to its display of over 350 species of marine life and rare varieties of coral. Last on the list was the mini zoo, which houses more than 200 species of animals.

    There’s even a crocodile farm inside the zoo, where animals are bred and then released into the dense mangrove forests nearby. It was finally time for some retail therapy and we decided to hit Aberdeen Bazaar, the main shopping and commercial centre of Port Blair where three roads converge to meet at a clock tower.

    The Andamans is more a place to swim and snorkel than shop. Nevertheless, the markets sell delightful sea shell souvenirs, mother-of-pearl jewellery, wooden artefacts, coconut shell lamp shades, ashtrays and palm mats. On our return, we were bombarded with questions on our trip. A friend asked whether we had interacted with the Jarawas and looked disappointed when I answered in the negative!

    I don’t regret my return to the Andamans, of course. I am glad I was able to take in the unspoilt beauty of the place two decades ago, long before commercialisation and the tsunami took over. And I do hope that by writing my impressions, the powers that be will take note and restore the place to its idyllic beauty....

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