40 Years & 04 Stations

S. BALAKRISHNAN

During forty years of my useless (!) service in a central government office, I lived in four stations that were each so different; different by way of geography, culture, language, food, and climate. I found them so unique and interesting that I am full of fond memories of these places to this moment.

The first station was Port Blair (1978-80), then not more than a sleepy village. Being an island territory, the Andaman & Nicobar Islands had the “sun, sea and sand” combination besides forest and hills, all so clean and unpolluted because tourism had not picked up at all. The ‘Kala Pani’ tag could be one reason. It rained in the Islands for six months from May to November, benefitting from both the South-West and the North-East monsoon seasons. And the rains mercilessly drummed on the slopping tin sheet roofs. As A&N Territory lies 1200 kms east of mainland India, the sunrise and sunset happens there an hour earlier.  So Port Blair slept by 8 in the night.  To this day, diesel genset is the only source of electricity in the Islands.

The twice-in-a-week flight from Calcutta (Kolkata) brought in the much-awaited mail and newspapers from mainland.  I had heard stories of an earlier period when the flight service from Calcutta to Port Blair touched down at Rangoon in Burma (now Yangoon in Myanmar) both ways for refuelling; hence passport was mandatory! The ships with loads of passengers and cargo (especially rotten onion & potato) took 3-4 days to reach from Calcutta and Madras; the ships sailed twice in a month from both these two ports. There were occasional sailings from Visakhapatnam in Andhra.  

Port Blair had an All India Radio (AIR) station with very poor coverage. The better alternate was AIR’s External Services Division’s broadcast for South-East Asia. The only other entertainment was the two movie theatres and one tent talkies that screened films three years after release in mainland. Mind you, there was no TV then. Also, those were the days when there was no STD facility; one had to patiently wait after booking a trunk call to mainland; this could mature after a day or not at all.

The capital town is a mini India with people from all parts of motherland living here in varying numbers with Bengalis and Tamils as majority population.  I picked up a stammering of Hindi here and also an iota of Bengali.  I learnt about the unique tribes of these Islands – the Great Andamanese, Onges, Jarawas, and Sentinelese (who still abhor any contact with others and live exclusively in their Sentinel Island) of the Andaman Islands, and the Shompens & the Nicobarese of the Nicobar Islands. The descendants of those sent here on punishment by the British colonial government are called ‘locals’; then there are settlers of ex-servicemen and East Pakistan (later Bangladesh) refugees as arranged by the government. People from mainland had also come and settled here seeking employment and a better life.

Coming from a vegetarian family, for the first time I tasted fish and the prohibited venison (deer meat). Likewise, for the first time I experienced Holi festival and Durga Puja. Milk was a rare object; for ordinary citizens milk powder was the only source. Slowly and steadily I built up a close circle of friends; though I have lost touch with many (because there was no social media or e-mail then), I still fondly remember and value their friendship. The trunk load of sea shells gifted by friends during their risky deep-sea fishing trips (a Tata-Thailand joint venture) is indeed a rare treasure because these days you can’t bring even a broken shell from the Islands.

There was not much work in the office (which was basically not needed there); to kill the time I wrote lengthy letters (4-5 fools’ cap pages) to kith & kin about life in the Islands. If these had been retained they would really be an interesting collection now. Along with interest in photography, I started writing small articles also. As years rolled by, for good or worse, I find myself immersed in these two habits.

Bitten by travel bug, I undertook a daring solo trip to India’s southernmost land tip ‘Indira Point’ in Great Nicobar Island; the Point was then known as Parsons Pygmalion Point. Travelling with a friend, I also partially covered Middle and North Andamans.  I dug up history and learnt about the horrible Japanese occupation of the Islands during World War-II, the visit of Netaji to Port Blair, history of Penal Settlement and Cellular Jail.

I still dread the sight of 6” long 1” thick centipedes and the malarial mosquitoes. After some 2 ¼ years in Port Blair, I was transferred to Cuttack in Orissa. Tearing myself away from the exotic Islands and dear friends, I sailed with a heavy heart to Madras and then by train to Orissa which provided another exciting experience for the next 2 ½ years.  Oh, yes, Port Blair is now renamed as Sri Vijaya Puram!                    

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