Along the shores of Nicobar

One of the privileges of serving in the military is the chance to visit locations that are otherwise not easy to access. I still remember my trip to Car Nicobar, the restricted southernmost territory of the country, in the middle of the Bay of Bengal. About 25 years ago, I was on a mission to rectify a technical glitch on the radar in the eye of the island. It was May, and monsoon was approaching. Soon after our propeller aircraft took off, we noticed thick dark clouds encircling us. There were soldier’s families on board and the crew kept pressing warning bells to alert the passengers about air-pockets and air turbulences. Unlike the modern aeroplanes, the Air force transport cum cargo planes in those days did not have advanced amenities and I could see the children fearfully clinging as the aircraft twisted and turned in the air. The crew told us that the volcano on Barren Island was live and the pilot could take a detour to avoid the volcano ash.

After four odd hours of choppy flying that included a short break at Port Blair for refuelling, we landed on the reclusive emerald island. My return journey was delayed, never to miss a chance for exploration, I decided to fully utilize my extended stay. Bicycle tour with my friends along its pristine coastline was a fun-filled pastime. I would get up early, peddle along the eastern sands and view the fireball rising out of the sea, come back to the western shore by dusk to witness the sinking sun creating the magic over patches of clouds. The island looked strikingly flat with very few highlands and so very ideal for cycling, a feature that would tragically amplify the magnitude of the devastation of the islet in the tsunami, years later.

Nature is at its best on the island. The sapphire sea, the silvery silent beaches, the verdant interiors and the simplicity of Nicobarese can instantly transport a visitor to a world of blissful purity. I saw tribal youth (engaged in subsistence fishing) crouching neck-deep in calm coral waters holding a spear in their hands, waiting for their catch.

The villagers lived in huts raised on poles and reared pigs under the structure. A Tamilian settler from the mainland used to run a small tea shop outside the camp and I was not surprised to get a bowlful of chutney for a couple of Dosas, for I had seen fallen coconuts lying uncared everywhere--the only surplus item for the island dwellers who live with bare essentials.