Tale of Two Bridges

Can one spend his or her entire life at the same place or at the max, visit the next village? Hard to image, but this is true for most tribal belts.

Near the far eastern point of India’s border with Tibet (China), Kaho is the last village and before that is a place called Meshai, also spelt as Mosai. From Tezu, the headquarter of Lohit district – out of which was carved out in 2006 the Anjaw district that is home to Kaho and Mosai – these two places are almost 230 kms away, a good whole day drive in a sturdy vehicle plus few hours more in optimal weather conditions on the road snaking through the layers and layers of Himalayan folds.

The road from Tezu till Walong and Kibithoo runs parallel to the river on its right bank. Kaho and Mosai are on the left bank. Till 2009, the two villages were connected with Kibithoo and, hence, rest of India, only through a steel-and-bamboo hanging bridge on the mighty Lohit river.

Crossing this bridge is a task in itself. Cutting across a deep gorge, the Lohit river literally roars below with ferocity. Almost any time of the day, there is a strong wind gushing through the gorge making the bridge swing like mad.

In 2009, the Indian Army built a suspension bridge, bringing much needed relief. Suddenly, reaching Tezu was easy. One was able to carry as much luggage as one wanted. Medical aid in times of emergency was possible. Children’s vaccination would happen on time.

Unfortunately, this bridge was washed away in Lohit’s perilous floods in 2012. For quite many years, people were back to the hanging bridge again. And now, thankfully, there is another suspension bridge little downstream and things are looking bright again.

Are you into tree-spotting?

First I noticed the huge canopy from far away. Then as our car came nearer, the actual size dawned upon us and we had to literally turn up our head by more than 90 degrees to catch the full glimpse of the beautiful ficus. Tree spotting has been my favourite activity on field trips and this was no exception.

Across rural areas in peninsular India and also in the Indo-Gangetic plains, one can easily spot huge banyan trees or peepal trees (ficus religiosa), two of the most common ficuses in India. Perhaps our ancestors knew the biological importance of this family of plants as the ficus trees are vital components of tropical ecology. Experts tell us how these trees are “particularly attractive to seed dispersers in that they produce large and nutritionally rewarding fruit crops.”

Every field trip for reporting I see a minimum two-three such trees with huge canopies, may be banyan or peepul or sometimes pilkhan. If the tree is within the limits of that village, it is inevitably the centre of attraction for all and sundry. There ought to be a pucca circular platform surrounding the tree trunk comprising at least four-five large trunks so intertwined to yield a massive single trunk.

These massive trees are slowly going missing from the urban settings. Hundreds and thousands of them are culled for road expansion or other such infrastructure projects. But fortunately, in rural areas, we still spot them, unless, of course, if they don’t fall in the land acquired for any road or other infra project. Awareness is the key.  

The question is: Do you notice these trees when you travel? Be it from the comfort of your airconditioned cars or be it a public transport vehicle such as bus or even a train.

Idyllic Sakoli that once was

Sakoli is 100 kms from Nagpur. In Bhandara district on the national highway that goes east towards Chhattisgarh, Sakoli has this unique landscape. From the highway that snakes right through it, an elongated hillock offers a wonderful backdrop. Surrounded by lakes all over, the place itself also has three lakes within its boundaries. One could count at least 20-odd lakes in the horizon from atop the hillock that offered a 360 degrees view.

Pink and orange of  Cotton Silk (Bombax Ceiba) lining the highway in spring, rugged browns in peak summer, paddy plantations’ greens in monsoon and mostly half empty yellow-grey farm plots interspersed with a variety of winter weeds and grasses. These are my prominent memories even when I left the place more than two decades ago.

The scenic setting has not changed much but what has is the proliferation of anthropogenic activities in and around Sakoli. To start with, population has increased, and in that, the number of pucca houses has increased exponentially. The commercial activity has increased. Sakoli has been a tehsil place for long but till about 2000s, it was a sleepy village that would witness almost empty streets after 7 pm. Things changed and how !!

During my recent trip, I found something that hurt me no end. Of the three lakes that I mentioned, one was ensconced between the hillock and a small, rocky outcrop. Hidden from the prying eyes, this lake was a serene place.

But the ‘development’ genie reached this quiet village too. Right next to this lake, right on its catchment, was built a resort with half a dozen cement-concrete buildings. Can never understand what prompts the authorities to give permissions for such activities and destroy the catchments of the lakes!!

Amarkantak’s two pictures

On any visit to a serene place, be it in the hills or plains, one always returns with two or three ‘freeze frames’ images. It happens with me always. And a recent trip to Amarkantak was no exception. It is in eastern Madhya Pradesh, on its border with Chhattisgarh.  

I went to Amarkantak this winter after 14-15 years. The Amarkantak that I saw this time was a far cry from the tranquil Amarkantak I remember from my younger years and a relatively better spot in 2006.

The temple complex which has a kund is considered the udgam, origin, of the sacred river Narmada. Any time of the day, the tank brimming with water reflects the temple, a minimum 1000-year vintage, stone structure painted with lime and hence sparkling white.

The difference between the changes in the landscape, the increased pollution, decreased jungles etc. were a cause of concern. But what was more disturbing for me was the ‘encroachment’ by a massive currently under construction Jain temple on a hill. (A disclaimer: I have nothing against Jainism or the Jain temple per say, the problem I have is the towering temple creating widespread felling of jungle around its designated spot and adding to concretization.)

The Jain temple is situated high on the hill that is part of the catchment of the minor streams that feed the origin of the Narmada river and its first few kilometres. The temple, rising above the canopies of whatever trees are left on that hill on the northern side of the temple complex is visible from the hills on the southern side. 

The site, to a layperson, offers a beautiful vista from far. But this appeared as an attack on my mind, body and soul in love with Narmada!!