After Diglipur and Rangat, Mayabunder was the final destination on my ten-day road trip in the Andamans. I had almost skipped visiting Mayabunder at the last minute but I was glad I didn’t because Mayabunder turned out to be quite a magical place totally unlike either Rangat or Diglipur. It was a big town, slow in the way sometimes administrative centres are, for it appeared to some kind of an administrative headquarters. Then there was the fact that the town skirted the blue sea on all sides, the water almost on the edge of the town, high up on undulating terrain and one had to look down at the sea at some places.
I hadn’t got government accommodation either at Rangat or Diglipur which people was the best places to stay. At Rangat the Assistant Engineer authorized to let visitors stay was not available, and at Diglipur all the government guest houses were full because the local Member of Parliament was visiting. As I walked through the gates of the APWD guesthouse at Mayabunder I hoped I would get a room for myself. I wasn’t in the mood to stay in dingy rooms in private hotels. When I saw the beautiful guest house and the stunning view of the sea from it, I was determined to get accommodation at any cost. I spent a couple of hours pursuing an Assistant Commissioner who had the authority to allot me a room in the guesthouse. I went to his home where I found him dressed in his banian and lungi. He asked me a few questions and then signed the requisition and told me I have to share a room with someone. I did not mind since I was happy that I would stay so close to the sea.
My room mate turned out to be an elderly vice-Principal of a school thirty kilometers from Mayabunder. His name was Arun Kumar Sharma and he had a weary look on his face. He told me he was from Uttar Pradesh and would retire after six years. He told me he had put in twenty five years of service all over Andamans, with his first posting at Baratang in 1981. He told me he had enough of the hardships and was eager to go back to wherever he came from. His lined face, his furrowed brow and the way he moved, hesitantly and slowly, told me he had seen enough of the other side of Andaman, the insider's experience. His face bore the burdens of a man with a troubled existence. He told me about one of his lady colleagues who had to watch her husband and young son swept away by the Tsunami waves before her very own eyes. She goes around with a haunted look on her face, he told me, his eyes boring into mine as I tried to imagine that horror.
While it rained outside we sat talking. He told me how difficult it is finding food or even a cup of tea, in some of the places they work. I felt sorry for him since he was so helpful in switching on the geyser, opening the large windows that opened outside to a magnificent view of the sea and telling me a lot of things about the Andamans. He told me the worst job in the Andamans was that of cops who were sometimes posted on uninhabited islands where they had to stay for months together. Only two men would be posted on an island it seems and their supplies would reach them by boat once a month. I tried to think how it would be living on an isolated, uninhabited island with only another person for company apart from the wildlife in form of deadly snakes, foot long centipedes and billions of mosquitoes.
He told me about the Hawk’s Bill nests in the lime stone caves near Baratang that were being plundered by poachers who sold it for large amounts. He told me the nests were used to prepare medicines and also were a delicacy. He also advised me the buses to take if I wanted to go to Karmatang. He told me Avis Island was worth a visit. He told me how to get to the bridge I had seen while coming into Mayabunder from Diglipur. A wide river ran under it and I was keen to take a look.
To get to the bridge I had to go to Panighat Chowk and I got there in a jeep. It began to rain heavily and I wondered if I had done the right thing but after a few minutes it cleared off. It was so typical of the rains in the Andamans, there one minute and gone the next. I decided to walk to the bridge so it took me less than half hour to the bridge. A board on the side of the bridge informed it was the ‘Austin Creek.’ It was a wonderful sight, the river flowing silently under the bridge with dark clouds closing down far away on the horizon, and the dense vegetation on the river banks seemed to touch the sky. A fisherman down below was throwing his net into the river and I took his picture. I walked back after spending some time in the lonely place.
I took the long walk back to the place where I got down from the jeep. I got back to the centre of the town and took another jeep to Karmatang beach. It was yet another desolate, lonely beach where I was the only visitor. I stayed there for about half hour and walked back to the road and waited for another jeep to take me back to Mayabunder. We took a detour and reached some kind of a college and teacher’s quarters. I wondered what this college was doing in this god forsaken place. There was no one around and it was so eerie.
Dinner was in another part of the guest house. I was totally besotted by a charming little viewing point down below that stood almost on the rocks buffeted by the sea. A flight of stairs led down and I got there and sat for a long time watching the donghies pass by. It was an incredibly beautiful sight and I sat there for a long time. Inside the guesthouse it was very beautiful, with a spacious lounge and comfortable sofas. Every meal came with a dish of the local fish. The most common fish was the ‘surmai’ but that day it was ‘khokari' and it tasted quite nice.
I hadn’t got government accommodation either at Rangat or Diglipur which people was the best places to stay. At Rangat the Assistant Engineer authorized to let visitors stay was not available, and at Diglipur all the government guest houses were full because the local Member of Parliament was visiting. As I walked through the gates of the APWD guesthouse at Mayabunder I hoped I would get a room for myself. I wasn’t in the mood to stay in dingy rooms in private hotels. When I saw the beautiful guest house and the stunning view of the sea from it, I was determined to get accommodation at any cost. I spent a couple of hours pursuing an Assistant Commissioner who had the authority to allot me a room in the guesthouse. I went to his home where I found him dressed in his banian and lungi. He asked me a few questions and then signed the requisition and told me I have to share a room with someone. I did not mind since I was happy that I would stay so close to the sea.
My room mate turned out to be an elderly vice-Principal of a school thirty kilometers from Mayabunder. His name was Arun Kumar Sharma and he had a weary look on his face. He told me he was from Uttar Pradesh and would retire after six years. He told me he had put in twenty five years of service all over Andamans, with his first posting at Baratang in 1981. He told me he had enough of the hardships and was eager to go back to wherever he came from. His lined face, his furrowed brow and the way he moved, hesitantly and slowly, told me he had seen enough of the other side of Andaman, the insider's experience. His face bore the burdens of a man with a troubled existence. He told me about one of his lady colleagues who had to watch her husband and young son swept away by the Tsunami waves before her very own eyes. She goes around with a haunted look on her face, he told me, his eyes boring into mine as I tried to imagine that horror.
While it rained outside we sat talking. He told me how difficult it is finding food or even a cup of tea, in some of the places they work. I felt sorry for him since he was so helpful in switching on the geyser, opening the large windows that opened outside to a magnificent view of the sea and telling me a lot of things about the Andamans. He told me the worst job in the Andamans was that of cops who were sometimes posted on uninhabited islands where they had to stay for months together. Only two men would be posted on an island it seems and their supplies would reach them by boat once a month. I tried to think how it would be living on an isolated, uninhabited island with only another person for company apart from the wildlife in form of deadly snakes, foot long centipedes and billions of mosquitoes.
He told me about the Hawk’s Bill nests in the lime stone caves near Baratang that were being plundered by poachers who sold it for large amounts. He told me the nests were used to prepare medicines and also were a delicacy. He also advised me the buses to take if I wanted to go to Karmatang. He told me Avis Island was worth a visit. He told me how to get to the bridge I had seen while coming into Mayabunder from Diglipur. A wide river ran under it and I was keen to take a look.
To get to the bridge I had to go to Panighat Chowk and I got there in a jeep. It began to rain heavily and I wondered if I had done the right thing but after a few minutes it cleared off. It was so typical of the rains in the Andamans, there one minute and gone the next. I decided to walk to the bridge so it took me less than half hour to the bridge. A board on the side of the bridge informed it was the ‘Austin Creek.’ It was a wonderful sight, the river flowing silently under the bridge with dark clouds closing down far away on the horizon, and the dense vegetation on the river banks seemed to touch the sky. A fisherman down below was throwing his net into the river and I took his picture. I walked back after spending some time in the lonely place.
I took the long walk back to the place where I got down from the jeep. I got back to the centre of the town and took another jeep to Karmatang beach. It was yet another desolate, lonely beach where I was the only visitor. I stayed there for about half hour and walked back to the road and waited for another jeep to take me back to Mayabunder. We took a detour and reached some kind of a college and teacher’s quarters. I wondered what this college was doing in this god forsaken place. There was no one around and it was so eerie.
Dinner was in another part of the guest house. I was totally besotted by a charming little viewing point down below that stood almost on the rocks buffeted by the sea. A flight of stairs led down and I got there and sat for a long time watching the donghies pass by. It was an incredibly beautiful sight and I sat there for a long time. Inside the guesthouse it was very beautiful, with a spacious lounge and comfortable sofas. Every meal came with a dish of the local fish. The most common fish was the ‘surmai’ but that day it was ‘khokari' and it tasted quite nice.
Not only that it put me into a deep sleep at night. I was glad I had decided to halt at Mayabunder.
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