by Aline Dobbie
As far as I can work out Lord Jagganath is yet another incarnation of Lord Vishnu in his well-known role as Krishna but the pilgrims take it all very seriously and, from time to time, fatalities occur when pilgrims throw themselves in the path of the chariot and are crushed. The English word Juggernaut is derived from the chariot of Jagganath and we take it to mean a massive destructible vehicle, of which we see plenty, unfortunately, on Britain’s roads.
I actually did not enjoy my visits to these temples partly, I think, because at sixteen I was too young to appreciate that they are symbols of another huge ancient faith. Now, I can respect the Hindu Faith and accept that millions the world over derive comfort from their devotions and beliefs but, at that time, newly confirmed in the Christian Faith it seemed rather sinister and confusing and not very clean. Moreover, in the temple courtyards, there were cows left to roam and be fed by the devout but these animals appeared to have extra legs grafted on to them – presumably to inculcate greater devotion in the untrained mind that would gaze and assimilate them as divine. As a mature adult and student of history one knows that in the Christian Faith medieval pilgrimages were encouraged to inculcate a similar devotion and all manner of saints’ bones and extremities were sold to the innocent gullible illiterate pilgrims of the early Middle Ages. At the tender age of sixteen, I have to say it all seemed repelling and cheap and exploitative.
We did, however, go by jeep to visit the Sun Temple at Konarak and that too was amazing. They say that if you visit only one temple in Orissa it should be Konarak. It stands carefully renovated and preserved having been allowed to fall into neglect over four hundred years ago. At the beginning of the twentieth century, when it was rediscovered, the British authorities ensured it was sympathetically renovated and Lord Ronaldshay wrote of the newly revealed temple ‘one of the most stupendous buildings in India, which rears itself aloft, a pile of overwhelming grandeur even in its decay’. The temple represents a colossal chariot for the sun god Surya and a team of seven galloping horses and twenty-four finely carved wheels line the walls of a raised platform. There are also the most extraordinary erotic sculptures of entwined couples, rather as one has seen at Khajuraho, apparently putting the advice of the Kamasutra into practice. I was only sixteen when I saw this and was so astonished and embarrassed that I found it difficult to look at the various males in the party. The world has changed a great deal in the intervening forty years but in 1962 modesty still reigned, and I was not yet aware of the Kamasutra! It seems likely that the Konarak erotic art was a kind of metaphor for the ecstatic bliss experienced by the soul when it fuses with the divine cosmos, which is a fundamental belief of Tantra, and everywhere you look at Khajuraho’s wonderful temples.
The myth is that Samba, one of Krishna’s sons was caught spying on his stepmothers whilst they were bathing in the river. Krishna was enraged at his son’s infamy and cursed him with leprosy and expelled him from the home. Twelve years later, Surya, The Sun God, who is also the divine healer of skin complaints, took pity on the young man and cured him, in return for which Samba built a temple dedicated to the sun god. The more prosaic story is that the temple was built in the thirteenth century by a Ganga monarch.
When we visited Konarak it was little known outside Orissa and Kolkata and, therefore, there was no tourist tat, I do not know what is currently there, but consider that we probably enjoyed it for its simplicity as yet another relic of a past dynasty.
I have been told that Orissa is still recovering from the devastating cyclone of 1999, but that strangely Puri was not affected. I am glad; at least my memory of the huge beach can still be fairly accurate. In today’s terms it would probably not be considered a safe beach but, at that time, we would go swimming three times every day accompanied by a fisherman wearing the traditional pointed hat. The hat I understood protected them from the fierce rays of the sun but also helped in protecting the head from the massive waves, as the point deflected the blow to the head as one swam through them. I have never again been so fearless in a big sea and, though I enjoy swimming in the sea these days, I take care to swim in more protected waters or bays which are also devoid of any sharks. Sharks were evident on Puri’s beaches and, on one memorable day when only ten, my father urgently told me to get out and pointed to a huge fin not all that far away. Shark menace is a huge problem on the beaches in Southern Africa and I would only now swim where there are shark nets. In Mexico earlier this year, we enjoyed our sea swimming enormously, but this was behind a wonderful little reef, which encouraged masses of brightly coloured little fish and the odd small barracuda but no sharks. The snorkelling was superb. Puri’s fishermen would bring their boats in at about noon. The boats were simple wooden catamarans and the excitement of seeing the catch was great. Din, our cook, would stroll down from the house and Mother and he would purchase fish for lunch and dinner. It was so good, simply fried or grilled fish with lemon and a few vegetables. When fish is as fresh as that it needs no sauce or adornment, just a hint of butter and a squeeze of lemon – there was never any left!
Puri will have a host of hotels by now and be a really vibrant holiday place for Bengalis from Kolkata’s overcrowded conurbation; I, however, will not go back as I prefer my happy memories of a golden time in my family life.
CHAPTER
NINE
Bandhavgarh Wildlife Park
At 06.15 hours our train pulled into the little station at Umariya. It was a fleeting stop so we were already at the door eager to descend. In the cold, misty, dawn light, I looked around and shook myself, partly to dispel the aches and pains of a long night but also because here I was in the very heart of India but, had it not been for the vibrant vigorous blossoms of the bougainvilleas on the little station building, I might have been in Surrey. The architecture is so typically that of Victorian railway buildings. People were scurrying around and I noticed one or two other Europeans who had also travelled on our train with presumably the same objective – to visit Bandhavgarh National Park. The platform and surrounding area is well kept and attractive. I was jolly glad of my pullover; early morning in Madhya Pradesh from November till February can be really chilly.
A driver presented himself and said he was Raju and would we please go with him, which we did thankfully. Arrangements that work are wonderful but, occasionally, something goes wrong and then, depending on how remote a place one finds oneself in, it demands some lateral thinking. Raju was driving an ancient Ambassador car. A cursory glance from Graham and the feel to my aching back left us in no doubt that car had well and truly paid its dues on India’s roads. The journey to Bandhavgarh is about 30 kilometres but it was not comfortable, and I tried to firmly put the vexed question of the car to the back of my mind whilst I enjoyed the scenery and drank in the experience of approaching one of the more remote wildlife parks, but perhaps over all it became my favourite.
In summer in Britain, we are used to a very early dawn, but that actually never happens in India and, thus, the locals take their time to rise. As the sun ascended in the East like a huge orange orb, the mist dispersed and one could see the fields, gradually giving way to jungle. At the roadside were little hamlets where very few were stirring. Winding the car window down, I caught sounds of the pujari calling the spiritual to the rituals of a new day; several pye (pariah) dogs wandered around and barked at our car. Old men were starting their ablutions or contemplations. The little houses were simple but clean and attractive with interesting wall painting mostly in bright blue and white – this bright blue seems to be the favourite traditional colour for house decoration in Madhya Pradesh.
Graham and I were delighted with it all and looking forward to the day ahead. It has to be said that the night had not been totally peaceful. This particular train from Jhansi only offers second class air-conditioned compartments. Initially, there had only been the two of us in the compartment but, at a midnight stop, two men had entered and switched on the overhead light and seated themselves noisily. The one astoundingly sat
on my feet on the bottom bunk. And when I moved said cheekily ‘You don’t mind?’ I did but I let it pass at first. Now this was odd; if he was entitled to one of the other two berths he should have just sat on the lower one or made his way up to the top one. Above me, Graham was sound asleep. I looked up and the Indian sort of glanced at me and continued his noisy fulsome chattering. It was quite obvious to me that he was trying terribly hard to impress the other older man who was sitting opposite me and was well dressed. An unlovable pair because, aside from talking loudly, they began to ‘burp’ from both ends. I really was quite vexed and suddenly sat up and with machine gun speed in Hindi requested coldly that he might like to go and sit in his own seat. Well, he was so astounded that he jumped up and hit his head on the underneath of Graham’s bunk and said ‘sorry for disturbing’ and shot off! The other man followed and that thankfully was the last of them.
Graham and I pondered it all laughing in the car and I came to the conclusion that perhaps they had not bought tickets and had slipped the attendant some cash and been shown into our compartment. When he had sat on my feet deliberately – there could be no question about a slumbering body in a grey blanket – he was just taking liberties and maybe thought I was a ‘young inexperienced’ backpacker. These are the sort of challenges a single woman can face in India and it would be naïve to underestimate them. Not everyone would have the advantage of Hindi but stand up for yourself with firmness and courtesy and that usually confounds that sort of oaf.
We were booked in at Tiger Trails on the edge of the national park. It was a delightful setting with the village fields bordering the encampment and the fringes of the park alongside. The staff welcomed us warmly and we asked for a tray of tea and tomato omelettes. It seems in India that I only really function with my breakfast of those two items and, wherever possible, some papaya. The little lodges were attractive, built out of stone and brick, and comfortable but simple. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the parakeets darting about and it all felt very good. There is a charming large pool with water lilies and a small chuckling stream emptying in at one side near to our cottage. Because we were in the buffer zone of the park, one heard jackal and other creatures at night; there was no-one else about except the staff. The bearer was a friendly fellow and, in no time at all, we were talking. Rajan the Conservationist came over and introduced himself and asked if we would like to go on a nature walk and visit one of the nearby villages. Naturally, we said yes.
Set amongst the Vindhyan Hills of Madhya Pradesh, Bandhavgarh has an area of 1161.471 sq. km, of which 624.752 sq. km. is the core of the National Park, with approximately 47 tigers and 33 leopards. The prey species comprise chital, sambhar, barking deer, nilgai, chinkara, wild pig, chowsingha, langur monkeys and rhesus macaque monkeys. There are over 70 species of butterflies in this paradise of streams, marshes, woodland and wildflower meadows. In the water pools, there are dragonflies and damsel flies.
The legend is that Lord Rama bequeathed the fort to his brother Laxmana, hence the name ‘Bandhavgarh’ which means brother’s fort. At the base of the fort is a monolithic reclining statue of Lord Vishnu, 35 feet long lying on the seven hooded snake, known as Sheshshaiyya and also statues of all the incarnations of Lord Vishnu (who, you may recall from my simple explanation of Diwali, is one of the three great deities).
The predators are tiger, leopard, wild dog, wolf and jackal. The lesser predators are fox, jungle cat, ratel, palm civet and mongoose. Besides that, there are sloth bear, porcupine, Indian pangolin and a variety of bats.
Bandhavgarh was the favourite hunting reserve of ex-rulers of the state of Rewa, hence it remained protected from poaching and illicit felling. After the abolition of the princely states, the degradation of this area reached alarming proportions and the late Maharajah of Rewa prevailed upon the government of Madhya Pradesh to declare an area of 105 sq. km as National Park in 1968. This was extended to 450 sq. km in 1982 and, in 1993, it was declared a Tiger Reserve under Project Tiger.
Lord Vishnu’s ancient statue in recumbent position – Bandhavgarh
The birdlife is plentiful with more than 250 species of birds. The raptors are the crested serpent eagle, shaheen falcon, Bonnelli’s eagle, shikra, marsh and hen harriers. Peafowls, painted and grey partridge, red jungle fowl, sarus crane, lesser adjutant stork, large racket tailed drongo, brown fish owl, paradise fly catcher, green pigeon and parakeets can all be seen.
In the evening, a paraffin lamp is brought to every cottage as the electricity goes off intermittently because Madhya Pradesh has not acted prudently about its utilities. It is essential on this sort of trip to have your own torch. The en suite bathrooms are simple but provide hot water for a good shower plus basin and w.c. We found the facilities very comfortable. If you require something more luxurious, there are other establishments but I found this pleasant and the cooking proved to be good and wholesome and with fresh ingredients. Because of the intermittent current, the management do not rely on freezers, so, though it is simple Indian cooking, it is good and thoughtfully presented considering the limitations imposed on the cook. The bearer serves one carefully and engages one in conversation if you allow him, which we did. They are mostly so eager to please and want to know about the world away from India. Sometimes, I am vexed by the way Indians treat hotel staff. Their abrupt and dismissive manner just contributes to the poor individual having what we would consider a ‘bad day’. I saw some bad behaviour in various places and usually the assertive guest was large, fat and throwing his body weight about as well as his dubious intellectual capacities. Indian women can be just as bad; some who have visited us here in Britain also annoy me. I long to tread on their toes and say ‘Just who do you think you are to treat your fellow human beings like that?’ but usually good manners prevents me in this country and in India it would be very unwise to interfere in what very sadly seems almost the norm.
Rajan appeared very soon after breakfast and the three of us went off on the nature trail that takes one to a nearby village. The birdlife was good and noisy with plenty to see and Rajan pointed out species and tried to fill us in about local conditions. The village fields were well maintained and the crops were largely lentils and cereals. This was a neat beautiful little village in its ancient simplicity of immaculately kept, freshly painted houses and raised terrace areas. On almost every roof of terracotta tiles, there were pumpkin plants basking in the late autumn sunshine. In one property, a pair of oxen were trudging round a pole, threshing the rice, which is later laid out to dry. Village women were picking over the rice and leaving it in neat round formations to dry in the sunshine. The sarpanch, the village head man came to greet us and have a formal conversation. He enquired as to whether we would like to visit a home and we replied yes, very much. I am not sure if it was his own but everything was fresh and clean and I was invited to take photographs. One shy teenager darted away to comb her hair and then asked if I would photograph her. I understood her Hindi and replied of course. This led to photographs of all the family and I have sent her copies with enlargements of herself. The little home had a beautiful swept courtyard with a tulsi plant growing in the middle. Tulsi is an Indian form of basil and essential to have in a household. The village well was ancient and Rajan said that records show it had been in existence for 900 years, the construction was of bricks in a herring-bone pattern. Alongside it, was a terrace with a temple, the stonework of which was from the eleventh century and carved with gods and goddesses. In British historical terms, that means since the time of William the Conqueror in 1066.
The author with the eldest daughter near the home’s Tulsi plant
Village cattle threshing wheat as they have done for centuries
Tribal village woman and her beautiful home – Bandhavgarh
The State has recognised the fact that the success of wildlife conservation depends a great deal on the support and respect awarded to the conservation areas by the neighbouring indigenous population. The State Government is
trying to bring the indigenous communities into the national mainstream of progress and prosperity and, thus, they have become involved as ‘stakeholders’, and policies are implemented through select micro institutions such as Forest Protection Committees, Village Forest Committees and Eco-development Committees. The initial response from the target people is good.
Madhya Pradesh has an effective Protected Area network of about 10,862 sq. km, harbouring nine National Parks and 25 Wildlife Sanctuaries. Community pressures on managed forests and protected areas have increased considerably, as we have seen in earlier chapters on Ranthambore. According to one estimate, there are almost 100 million forest dwellers in India. Besides this, forests are a source of livelihood for another 275 million. In western terms, that is a total figure equal to the population of the whole of Europe. Village communities depend upon forests for their day-to-day needs. In earlier colonial times, the forest management principles were essentially rooted in a policy of commercial exploitation. Gradually, thankfully, this is changing. It is absolutely essential that the needs of indigenous peoples are considered and that they are involved in the conservation and management of wildlife, to ensure both the survival of the animals and the forests. Plants, animals and human beings have co-evolved and are inseparable owing to their interdependence. Therefore, the ailments of forests also affect the wild fauna. This, therefore, calls for a holistic view to redress the situation. Any strategy advocating a dichotomy would be myopic, since almost 70% of India’s wild fauna thrives outside the Protected Area system in regular forests.
