(All photos and/or videos to be added at a later date once stronger internet connection is obtained.)
Since
2013, I’ve been fortunate enough to have worked in and/or visited several places;
twelve, to be exact. Of all these wonderful places in India, two have stood out
with auras of emotional flamboyance – Ladakh and the Andaman Islands. Lately I’ve
been wondering what it is about two places so completely different in their
position, biodiversity and climate, that captured my attention so adhesively,
and have come to realize they have more in common than what meets the eye.
ONE: Getting there can be
challenging, yet beautiful.
Three things can come in the way of traveling to both Ladakh and the Andamans. (1) Weather – snow or rain, (2) prices – being spontaneous burns a deep, deep hole in your pocket, and (3) their exotic reputation – a sense of it being an unusual place to simply go to. But once you get there, good lord, it tugs at your breath better than Rowling’s dementors. Whether it’s the vast expanses of the Himalayas that throw the skies and land open as far as the eye can see, or the dense forests of the islands that filter sunlight and rain several-fold before they reach you, they’ll force you to stop and absorb them.
Three things can come in the way of traveling to both Ladakh and the Andamans. (1) Weather – snow or rain, (2) prices – being spontaneous burns a deep, deep hole in your pocket, and (3) their exotic reputation – a sense of it being an unusual place to simply go to. But once you get there, good lord, it tugs at your breath better than Rowling’s dementors. Whether it’s the vast expanses of the Himalayas that throw the skies and land open as far as the eye can see, or the dense forests of the islands that filter sunlight and rain several-fold before they reach you, they’ll force you to stop and absorb them.
TWO: It’s expensive to get there,
but cheap to live there.
Which is why I’ve devoted large amounts of my thinking time to figuring out ways in which to get there and never leave. Renting a small flat in Ladakh is a fourth of the price (if not lower) than that of an equivalent space in Mumbai. In the Andamans, it’s about a third. Either way, it makes up for the cost of getting there, and in return you get the serenity of nature with enough amenities to get you by over long periods of time. It’s perfect.
Which is why I’ve devoted large amounts of my thinking time to figuring out ways in which to get there and never leave. Renting a small flat in Ladakh is a fourth of the price (if not lower) than that of an equivalent space in Mumbai. In the Andamans, it’s about a third. Either way, it makes up for the cost of getting there, and in return you get the serenity of nature with enough amenities to get you by over long periods of time. It’s perfect.
THREE: Developed, but not entirely.
Both places have a central, developed town/city which has restaurants and some hotels for tourists, small food shacks which are frequented by the locals and a bunch of general stores. Ladakh has its quintessential marketplace in Leh where anyone can buy woolens and household items, eat at a handful of restaurants or buy souvenirs from handicraft emporiums. The markets in the Andamans that compare are in and around Port Blair, but they are certainly more city-like than the quaint shops that line the streets of Leh. Sanitation, electricity and internet are available across both areas, though they are never entirely reliable. As Calvin’s Dad would say, these kinks in the global definition of ‘development’ build character and add to one’s learning of the places’ cultures and strife. I’ve learned more about life and work from my time in these places than I have living in Mumbai, and I’ve come to treasure those bits of me.
Both places have a central, developed town/city which has restaurants and some hotels for tourists, small food shacks which are frequented by the locals and a bunch of general stores. Ladakh has its quintessential marketplace in Leh where anyone can buy woolens and household items, eat at a handful of restaurants or buy souvenirs from handicraft emporiums. The markets in the Andamans that compare are in and around Port Blair, but they are certainly more city-like than the quaint shops that line the streets of Leh. Sanitation, electricity and internet are available across both areas, though they are never entirely reliable. As Calvin’s Dad would say, these kinks in the global definition of ‘development’ build character and add to one’s learning of the places’ cultures and strife. I’ve learned more about life and work from my time in these places than I have living in Mumbai, and I’ve come to treasure those bits of me.
FOUR: Land-locked, sea-locked, remote
and isolate.
The Himalayas that fall in Ladakh rise tall around the modest strip of runway at the Leh airport. Flying into Leh is gorgeousness, for it feels like gliding over a giant raster of geographic elevation, occasionally obstructed by blindingly-white clouds. The skies are always a limpid blue and the mountains are continuous and unrelenting. Layer after layer of peaks make you wonder where you’d ever land and about all the animals you’re flying over. When the little buildings and fields emerge from the landmass, they seem desolate and, in personification, content. Flying to the Andamans gives you the same feeling of gaping vastness and detachment from familiarity. The ocean is the same bright blue of the Ladakh sky and the coastlines gleam with their slivers of sand. Every island is a cluster of bright green vegetation – something I hope will hold true even years into the future. Both places are distant – in time if not in kilometres.
The Himalayas that fall in Ladakh rise tall around the modest strip of runway at the Leh airport. Flying into Leh is gorgeousness, for it feels like gliding over a giant raster of geographic elevation, occasionally obstructed by blindingly-white clouds. The skies are always a limpid blue and the mountains are continuous and unrelenting. Layer after layer of peaks make you wonder where you’d ever land and about all the animals you’re flying over. When the little buildings and fields emerge from the landmass, they seem desolate and, in personification, content. Flying to the Andamans gives you the same feeling of gaping vastness and detachment from familiarity. The ocean is the same bright blue of the Ladakh sky and the coastlines gleam with their slivers of sand. Every island is a cluster of bright green vegetation – something I hope will hold true even years into the future. Both places are distant – in time if not in kilometres.
FIVE: Un-capturable landscapes.
You cannot photograph the Himalayas or the Andaman seas and forests without losing their overwhelming presence. No photo can capture the way these landscapes envelope you and stretch far out to the horizon. A photograph is 2D, but what you see with the naked eye is beyond 3-dimensional. It’s several added dimensions of wonder, intimidation, smells and sounds, which are completely lost once your shutter goes off. That being said, one can never take a bad photo of the mountains or sea. It’s a limbo of oomph, but a compromised oomph.
You cannot photograph the Himalayas or the Andaman seas and forests without losing their overwhelming presence. No photo can capture the way these landscapes envelope you and stretch far out to the horizon. A photograph is 2D, but what you see with the naked eye is beyond 3-dimensional. It’s several added dimensions of wonder, intimidation, smells and sounds, which are completely lost once your shutter goes off. That being said, one can never take a bad photo of the mountains or sea. It’s a limbo of oomph, but a compromised oomph.
SIX: Tourists, people, and their
animals.
Both these places are tourist hotspots and function seasonally, given their unfavourable summers and monsoons. If you go to Ladakh between December and June or the Andamans between September and March, you’re bound to meet a range of tourists – from loud joint families to solitary observers. The descendence of these tourists have come to dictate the lives of the locals, and now, their livelihoods rotate around these months. You'll find a clear distinction between the locals and anyone else who attempts to integrate. The people of the land are a humble, helpful and self-assured kind, dotted with colourful and unforgettable personalities. From caring for up to fifty domestic animals per household to dealing with feral dogs and animals, being a local comes with its share of challenges. I refrain from calling the people from these places simple, for that’s an unfair label to give them. Even though they don’t live in metropolitan cities or drive swanky cars, they lead complicated lives which are often harder than we realize. Visiting and living with them have taught me a great deal, and I’ve come to criticize and value various aspects of my life ever since.
Both these places are tourist hotspots and function seasonally, given their unfavourable summers and monsoons. If you go to Ladakh between December and June or the Andamans between September and March, you’re bound to meet a range of tourists – from loud joint families to solitary observers. The descendence of these tourists have come to dictate the lives of the locals, and now, their livelihoods rotate around these months. You'll find a clear distinction between the locals and anyone else who attempts to integrate. The people of the land are a humble, helpful and self-assured kind, dotted with colourful and unforgettable personalities. From caring for up to fifty domestic animals per household to dealing with feral dogs and animals, being a local comes with its share of challenges. I refrain from calling the people from these places simple, for that’s an unfair label to give them. Even though they don’t live in metropolitan cities or drive swanky cars, they lead complicated lives which are often harder than we realize. Visiting and living with them have taught me a great deal, and I’ve come to criticize and value various aspects of my life ever since.
SEVEN: The elusiveness of their wildlife.
The Himalayas are known for their large mammals, however, the snow leopard isn’t its only ‘ghost of the mountains’. It’s a landscape full of camouflaged wildlife that isn’t easy to track or spot. The Andamans house far fewer mammals, but is teeming with bird life which isn’t the easiest to find amidst its dense trees and vines. In both places, the wildlife teases you, with calls and signs, poop and tracks, but rarely graces you with its presence. If one of these wonderful creatures does show itself, live the moment. Don’t fumble for cameras or tripods or lenses, for that moment won’t last. Simply absorb it, etch it in your mind, make it a memory that you’ll hold onto forever.
The Himalayas are known for their large mammals, however, the snow leopard isn’t its only ‘ghost of the mountains’. It’s a landscape full of camouflaged wildlife that isn’t easy to track or spot. The Andamans house far fewer mammals, but is teeming with bird life which isn’t the easiest to find amidst its dense trees and vines. In both places, the wildlife teases you, with calls and signs, poop and tracks, but rarely graces you with its presence. If one of these wonderful creatures does show itself, live the moment. Don’t fumble for cameras or tripods or lenses, for that moment won’t last. Simply absorb it, etch it in your mind, make it a memory that you’ll hold onto forever.
EIGHT: No matter where you are, a
picturesque landscape is never more than 15 minutes away.
This is a virtue of point THREE above. Perhaps this will change with time, as the Border Road Organization hacks away at the mountains or as deforestation progresses in the islands. But until those sad times befall us, these landscapes are always nearby, waiting to be gawked at.
This is a virtue of point THREE above. Perhaps this will change with time, as the Border Road Organization hacks away at the mountains or as deforestation progresses in the islands. But until those sad times befall us, these landscapes are always nearby, waiting to be gawked at.
NINE: There’s more to be known
about them than is known already.
Ladakh and the islands are rich in ecological and social history. There are traditions and biodiversity that are yet to be explored and scrutinized. As time passes, more and more researchers seem to be showing interest in these scientifically uncharted fields, and rightfully so. Both places pique my curiosity more than places like the Western Ghats simply because there’s so much we’re yet to learn about them.
Ladakh and the islands are rich in ecological and social history. There are traditions and biodiversity that are yet to be explored and scrutinized. As time passes, more and more researchers seem to be showing interest in these scientifically uncharted fields, and rightfully so. Both places pique my curiosity more than places like the Western Ghats simply because there’s so much we’re yet to learn about them.
TEN: Disconnection from the rest of
the world.
Finally, these places give you the option of unplugging every electronic device and living in the present. Disconnection from the world isn’t necessarily a direct result of poor internet or telephone towers. These places tend to make you cherish the option of switching off and using your phone and email only for the essential few communications. You can rely on newspapers for news and wave goodbye to social networking. And the best part is that you don’t miss it. Even slightly (disclaimer: this could be only my perspective). I maintain that the less my friends and family hear from me, the fewer pictures I have and the more notebooks I fill, the more fun I’m having.
Finally, these places give you the option of unplugging every electronic device and living in the present. Disconnection from the world isn’t necessarily a direct result of poor internet or telephone towers. These places tend to make you cherish the option of switching off and using your phone and email only for the essential few communications. You can rely on newspapers for news and wave goodbye to social networking. And the best part is that you don’t miss it. Even slightly (disclaimer: this could be only my perspective). I maintain that the less my friends and family hear from me, the fewer pictures I have and the more notebooks I fill, the more fun I’m having.
I hope
fervently that things stay this way even in the years to come, however romantic
or idealistic that hope may be.
1 comment:
Lovely piece!
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