The Andamans call everyone — from patriots, honeymooners, budding writers seeking peace and quiet, to those who want to get away from the daily grind of traffic jams, deadlines and pollution
On a chilly October morning, one that announced the arrival of winter in Delhi, I shouldered my backpack and left for the tropical setting of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. I wanted to escape the din; the Andamans in the Bay of Bengal promised flawless beaches, spectacular diving and a dash of history to soothe my frayed nerves.
The plains of central India soon gave way to an all-encompassing blue sheet of water. John Robert, a young politician, welcomed me to Port Blair, the capital and the entry point to the Andaman Islands.
Unlike Goa, the Andamans haven’t yet entered the collective consciousness of the Indian tourism industry. Thus, they have managed to preserve their rustic beauty and dynamic wildlife. It is only in the previous decade that the knowledge of this tropical paradise has left its white sandy shores, resulting in the construction of a few luxury resorts and diving schools.
The Indian government, too, keeps a tight control over access to the strategically important frontier. Only 36 of the 572 islands are inhabited and 95 per cent of the land is protected as a national reserve. One such island, called the North Sentinel, is home to the Sentinelese tribe, one of the most isolated groups of hunter-gatherers, with no contact or interest in the outside world.
Another time when the Andamans made headlines was in 2004, when a tsunami raked havoc in the Indian Ocean. Recalls John, “I was working as a computer engineer in those days, but my setup was destroyed by the storm. There was nothing left behind and no going back. I started work in the social sector, which paved the way to a political career.”
A sacred prison
The old colonial capital, Port Blair, preserves not only the fragments of India's Independence struggle but also four indigenous tribes — The Great Andamanese, Onge, the Jarawa, and the Sentinelese — that preceded the modernising forces.
The Cellular Jail, built by the British in 1986, is a sobering reminder of India’s colonial past and a pilgrimage site for patriots. Our foremost freedom fighters such as Veer Savarkar and Batukeshwar Dutta were lodged here in isolated prisons.
The Jail’s notoriety led the Andamans to be known as Kala Pani (Black Water). Today, however, an Indian flag flutters on the prison's roof and an eternal fire burns in homage to the martyrs. The jail has been transformed into a national monument, which showcases the valour and patriotism of the freedom fighters through pictures, book excerpts and tours. The light-and-sound show, held inside the premises, is beautiful in its conception and gutwrenching in its description.
The island of dreams and romance
A three-hour ferry ride on which Honey Singh was played at full blast, much to the delight of the dancing Punjabi audience, took me to the Havelock Island. I warmed at the sight of lush greenery and azure water at the arrival jetty.
Havelock is brimming with tourists, adventure seekers, and couples making the most of their honeymoon. This popularity is in complete contrast with the low profile of the rest of the island. Locals ascribe it to do the Time publication, naming Radhanagar Beach as the best in Asia in 2004. All of a sudden, travellers started looking for the coordinates of the Andaman Islands.
Havelock is best explored on a moped, available for a measly sum of Rs 300 a day. My first destination was, of course, Radhanagar beach. I crossed banana groves and paddy fields en route to the site. From a mile away, I could hear the roar of the sea, which was both an invitation and a challenge.
At the very first sight, I was bowled over by the sheer beauty of Radhanagar. The soft powder like sand was perfect for a barefoot walk, and the water was even more alluring. I left my belongings in the care of a German family and approached the sea with vigour. I had the entire ocean to myself.
Soon enough, I had left the shoreline far behind. For the very first time I experienced the might of the sea. Just as I was getting over-confident of my swimming prowess, I saw a wicked wave headed in my direction. “No sweat, I can handle it,” I thought. However, it grew in size and by the time it reached me, it had taken monstrous proportions. When it finally hit me I was pushed back as if in an explosion. I went under water and the whirlpool stunning patterns; the sun was orange and the sea adventurous — it came straight from the imagination of a painter. Or, perhaps, the imagination of painters comes from such panoramas.
Dive into the deep end
Scuba is arguably the pick of the activities on offer at Havelock Island. First timers are taken six to 10 metres inside water, depending on their comfort level. An oxygen cylinder was placed on my back and stones weighing eight kg were tied to my waist, with the intent that I sink (not a comforting thought).
As I started to venture deep into the water, there was a searing pain in my earlobes. The change in the air pressure was uncomfortable, and made it impossible to continue. The thought of giving up crept in my head.
There came a moment when I signalled to the instructor that I won’t be able to continue and we should head back to the surface. He stopped and signalled me to take deep breaths. I remember all my discomforts vanishing, almost miraculously, with one such deep breath.
It is difficult to describe the charm of scuba diving; it is such other-worldly experience. You have no control or hold over anything, even gravity goes for a toss.
Colourful corals — orange, yellow, green, red — and different fishes — effortlessly moving across water were a sight to behold. One charming fish stood still until I came within touching distance and vanished in front of my sight as I placed my hand on it. I smiled in absolute wonderment.
Queen of the night
Havelock is full of shacks-cum-cafes that have some shade of orange lighting, bamboo chairs, and soft instrumental music playing in the background. My pick amongst the lot is the Fat Martin cafe.
It is run by a stout man called Martin, who took great pleasure in telling me the how he weighed more than 100 kg and thus the name of the restaurant. His evil design was to add a few kilos to every waistline through cheese and tomato dosas (a Fat Martin specialty).
During the course of the meal, I interacted with a number of customers, including an Israeli couple celebrating its honeymoon. They shared their love for the Andamans as they gorged on “Queen of the Night”, the dessert on offer. The mountain of vanilla ice-cream perched on the base of bread crumbs and topped with banana pieces looked sinful. On Martin’s urging, I ordered one and then a second helping. This dessert is an absolute must-have on a visit to Havelock.
The Soul of the Andaman
I can keep talking about snorkelling, swimming, water scooting, and a zillion other enterprises. However, there is something else that is beguiling about the Andamans. That makes it unique and visit worthy.
The Andamans take you far away from the world. The locals are as simple-minded as they come: polite, non-intrusive and trustworthy. There is no jostling for the extra buck or tip. People are content in the space and resources allotted to them. Perhaps, that is why the Andamans is one of the few places in India without any land conflict. It is always expecting visitors and with their arrival, the carnival takes off.
I came here with no expectations or pre-conceived notions. My whim was my driver, Sherpa and squire. In two weeks at the Andamans, I lost and found myself.