The unusual ecological tale of Sippighat, Andamans

Our wonderful week at the Andaman islands included stopping by at Sippighat.  (The place names on the islands are a delightful mixture, and warrant an independent post - ranging from Junglighat, Dollygunj, Guptapara and Sippighat to Aberdeen and Rifleman Island!)

The newly formed Sippighat "wetlands".  All those black dots are waterbirds - whistling ducks, cotton teals and coots.

The tsunami of Dec 26th of 2004 changed many things all around us, and Andamans was affected in several ways, with an enormous human toll and ecological changes.  Some islands sunk by as much as a metre because of the earthquake, and at Sippighat, which is about 10kms from Port Blair the seawaters rolled in on a 10m high tsunami wave, and the land was inundated, and has remained waterlogged ever since.  The army has built a bridge to get across the newly formed water bodies.

Why could they not use these boats, I wondered.  or did the
tsunami wave wreck them?

We drove by the morning we arrived, on our way to ANET at Wandoor, and we saw the skeletons of drowned boats, submerged homes and abandoned building projects.

As we gawked in astonishment at this, a bunch of whistling teals took off from the water, with their characteristic whistling call, did a sortie and landed back in.  These freshwater ducks had obviously adapted to the now brackish waters of Sippighat, just like the Cotton Teal groups?

White-bellied sea eagle - Photo by Pritam

Up above, a White-bellied sea eagle glided lazily as a common myna flapped its wings busily, trying to keep up with it.  

We clearly saw the characteristic wedge-shaped tail, and raised wings while gliding

The Sea Eagle was a delight - it swooped down into the waters and picked up a fish in its talons, with one expert dive, and the bunch of us "aahed" involuntarily!

The waters were abuzz with bird life - swamp hens, coots and egrets of all sizes.  The swallows swooped around in the air above, but there was no sign of the Andaman Teal which supposedly is found here.  

Cotton Teal  Nettapus coromandelianus - Photo by Sivakumar

Cotton Teals swam by in groups - and in our excitement, the females were first mistaken for Andaman Teals.  A closer look and much discussion ensued, since none of us had seen an Andaman Teal earlier, it was worse than the one-eyed leading the blind!

The Forest Dept board finally did help, as quite clearly, the ducks we were seeing had an eye stripe and not the white ring around the eye.

It was a cloudy morning, and every now and then there would be a welcome thundershower for a few minutes, but yet we sweated inside our raincoats, the showers increasing the already high humidity levels.

The relatively new army bridge across the waters.  The waters have become a means of moving goods across the island.

We watched some feral ducks, kingfishers and a lone Great Knot busy in the mud.  Suddenly there was a commotion among the Cotton Teals, and three males were mobbing one hapless female, who was trying to get away, quite unsuccessfully.  I was sorely tempted to throw a stone at those male ducks and scatter them....should I have?

We were commandeered into the bus by Vijay, as Manish and team waited at ANET, and the cloudy sky looked ominous.

On another evening visit, on the way back from Chidiyatapu, we stopped again and this time Zoya from ANET took us in to another part of Sippighat and there we did see the Andaman teals (Anas albogularis) with their characteristic eye patch.  These are endemic to these islands, and are now considered as a separate species from Sunda Teals.  There are supposedly about a thousand of these teals. and we were privileged to see a large flock of them. 

Andaman teals (Anas albogularis) - Photo by Sivakumar

Once again though, for me, it was the White Bellied Sea Eagle that was most memorable.  We saw a pair of them, roosting in the trees beyond the waters, and what appeared to be a nest was spotted through our binoculars.

They took turns gliding over the waters, before perching majestically on the tree, settling down for the evening.

White Bellied Sea Eagle (Haliaeetus leucogaster) -
Photo by Sivakumar

Andaman endemics

Andaman Crested Serpent Eagle - pic courtesy Pritam Kukilaya

Andaman Woodpecker - pic courtesy Pritam Kukilaya

The havelis of Fatehpur

April 6th 2017
Fatehpur, Rajasthan

Travelling on work throws up all sorts of surprises.  So it was on a hot, sandy morning at Fatehpur, where a bunch of us had travelled to from Jaipur, in search of farmers.  I had not had the time (or inclination I have to admit) to look up Sikar or Fatehpur on a map.  On the road, the boards indicated that we were on the Bikaner highway.  The Bikaner boards reminded me of our Rajasthan trip from a couple of years ago - the carcass dump of Jorbeer,  beautiful cranes of Kichan, the havelis of Phalodi, the Thar desert, kher sangri and bustards.

It was a usual chaotic scene, with transport in all shapes and sizes, from slow moving camels to large lumbering trucks, all jostling for space on a road that was definitely several sizes too small for all of this.

We arrived and hurried or rather, scurried, across avoiding the sand that was being whipped up by the hot winds, when I saw this large, decrepit and desolate haveli on the opposite side of the road.

Turns out, we were in Shekhawati lands, the area in north Rajasthan, where wealthy Marwari merchants built their homes, in the eighteenth century or thereabouts, only to begin to move away to other parts of the country, including Madras, to escape from invasions as also to grow their fortunes.

Two havelis, next to each other, and I was both amazed, and saddened.

The board read, "Kedia Haveli".  But it was in total neglect, it seemed.  Political and movie posters were stuck across its pillars, and front facades.  

The Kedia haveli, according to Wikipedia,

The haveli has two chawnks or courtyards a garden with fountain at back and Naals on both sides; the wall paintings are traditional. It has a library and modern baths. It was first haveli in Fatehpur to have electricity (via generators) and called Bijliwali Haveli. In 1931 AD Sitaram Kedia was married to the daughter of Bajaj family of Bisau. On this occasion Rao Raja Maharaj Shri Kalyan Singh Ji Bahadur of Sikar Thikana came to bless the couple. Seth Shree Bohitram Kedia brought an aeroplane (popularly called 'Cheel Gadi' or eagle craft) to scatter invitations printed on handkerchiefs for all and flower petals on His Royal Highness. Pleased with the courtesy and respect His Royal Highness granted the family of Seth Shree Bohitram Kedia permission  to wear gold ornaments below their waist (a privilege that only royals enjoyed in that era).
Although most rooms are locked one can visit the haveli free of any charge, courtesy the Kedia family.

On my return I found this better picture of the entrance in Wikimedia, and looks like it was opened up for the photograph.  But the posters are still there.

Traces of the freehand wall murals can be seen.  Shekhawat wall murals are well known.

Fatehpur has other important havelis it appears.  Saraf, Fatehchand and the Nandlal Devra havelis.

The last mentioned has been restored, now serves as a homestay, cum artists revival project, spearheads the restoration of the havelis, and much more.

See the link http://www.cultural-centre.com/.  Sadly, since I knew none of this before hand, and we returned to Jaipur that evening, I could not visit any of the others.  Lack of any data connectivity at Fatehpur meant all my learning and discovery happened later.

Moral of this story for me is - always do your homework before you travel.

Greater Flamingos at Kutch

greater flamingos at kutch - YouTube:

Saving Ennore Creek

Poromboke is an old Tamil word meaning shared-use community resources like waterbodies, seashore and grazing lands that are not assessed for tax purposes. Today, it has become a bad word used to describe worthless people or places. Chennai Poromboke Paadal is part of a campaign to reclaim the word and restore its worth.

Video subtitle text:

Poromboke (n.)
/por-um-pokku/

1. places reserved for shared communal uses
(water bodies, grazing lands . . . )
2. a pejorative intended to demean and devalue a person or place

How did the meaning change from the first to the second?

Poromboke is not for you, nor for me
It is for the community, it is for the earth (* 4)

Poromboke is in your care, it is in mine (*2)
It is our common responsibility towards nature, towards the earth

Poromboke is in your care, it is in mine
It is our common responsibility towards nature, towards the earth


The flood has come and gone, what have we learnt from that? (*2)
To construct buildings inside waterbodies, what wisdom is that?
The flood has come and gone, what have we learnt from that?
To construct buildings inside waterbodies, what wisdom is that?

On the path that rainwater takes to the sea
What need have we of concrete buildings? (*2)

It was not the rivers that chose to flow through cities (*2)
Rather, it was around rivers that the cities chose to grow
It was not the rivers that chose to flow through cities
Rather, it was around rivers that the cities chose to grow

And lakes that rainwater awaited
Poromboke – they were reverently labeled (*2)

After Ennore got its power plant (*2)
Acres of ash, but river scant
After Ennore got its power plant,
Acres of ash, but river scant

The sea and the river, he has kept apart (*2)
The white sky, he blackened

The sea and the river, he has kept apart 
The white sky, he blacked (*2)

Once he gets done with Ennore, he will come for your place too (*3)
If you stop, challenge or dare to resist, ‘MAKE IN INDIA’ he will lie and insist (*3)

Growth, jobs, opportunities; these are just flimsy excuses (*2)
For one who sold the waterbodies, the lake is mere poromoboke 

Growth, jobs, opportunities; these are just flimsy excuses 
For one who sold the waterbodies, the lake is mere poromoboke (*2)

You and I, then; what are we to him? (*2)

We are poromboke too (*2)

I certainly am poromboke! (*2)

How about you? Are you poromboke too?
I certainly am poromboke!
How about you? Are you poromboke too?
I certainly am poromboke!



Credits:

Featuring TM Krishna

Concept: Nityanand Jayaraman
Director: Rathindran R Prasad

Lyrics: Kaber Vasuki
Music: RK Shriramkumar

COMB DUCK AT SHOLINGANALLUR

I love this duck, and I am so excited overtime I see it.  I didn't see it this time, but Mr Ramanan did, at Sholinganallur.

Sarkidiornis melanotos - the beautiful wing colours catch the sun. Photo by Mr Ramanan

It's a large duck and shows up in our waters every other year. migrating down for the winter, and they look quite distinctive with their speckled heads and the 'comb' on the head of the male.

Photo by Mr Ramanan - the distinctive comb for the male

Photo by Mr Ramanan

I need to go and pay a visit to Sholinganallur, soon.

Sentinels

As dusk descends, the sentinels of solitude arrive.
I do not fear them.

Where is the rain?

Clear skies and a nip in the air. 

A lovely winter morning in Chennai. 

But where is the rain?

The Allamanda

The vine draws my eye upwards

And my heart follows

Looking down at passers by

Allamanda blanchetii

Life

The Desert Rose clings on.
All is not lost to the storm.

Appreciating the Adyar

I love the Adyar river, and most days I cross it, closer to the mouth, where it joins the Bay of Bengal. Along with the Bay it is deeply a part of my Madras memories.

Lovely to see this piece in The Hindu.

A bend in the Adyar

It’s been a year since the floods and the city’s iconic river flows on. Arun Krishnamurthy of Environmentalist Foundation of India speaks toAKILA KANNADASAN about his photo series that tracks the river from its source

Last year this time, Chennai was reeling under a different kind of tragedy — the incessant rains and the resultant floods. Lives, livelihoods, and homes were lost. There are various theories about the cause of the floods. But one thing is clear — we had a major role to play in the catastrophe. Our callous attitude towards our water bodies has not changed since then, and it’s time we do something.

Arun Krishnamurthy, the founder of Environmentalist Foundation of India, who has involved hundreds of youngsters in protecting Tamil Nadu’s water bodies, has come up with an idea to shake us out of our smug mindsets.

He has created a photo documentary on the state of the Adyar River a year after the floods, and plans to exhibit it in schools and colleges. Arun says that it all began with a 20-minute documentary on the lakes of Chennai that he made to screen in educational institutions. “We found out that most of our lakes are feeders to our rivers. For instance, the Poondi lake is one of the feeders of the Kosasthalaiyar River, the Chembarambakkam lake for the Adyar River... lakes and rivers are interconnected,” he explains.

Arun, hence, set out to document the rivers. “We are making a documentary Rivers of Chennai and planning to bring out a booklet and digital photo blog on the same,” he says. The idea is to show people where our rivers start, flow and end. Arun says that people in Chennai aren’t even aware of the river that runs a few streets from where they live.

“A lot of negativity about our water bodies has developed over the last one year,” he observes. “The number of local volunteers has fallen. It’s shocking to listen to what the locals say. During a lake clean-up, a 21-year-old asked us what was the point in doing so. When we said that it was we who would suffer if it flooded, he laughed and said he plans to settle in Bangalore anyway.” Apart from negligence, it’s a lack of pride for Chennai’s rivers that’s saddening, says Arun.

Arun spent 48 hours tracing the Adyar from its origin in Adhanur and Malaipattu villages. He explains how multiple lakes merge to create the river that we call Adyar. “She is pristine at her origin. At Chembarambakkam, for instance, birds thrive in the clean water.”

The trouble begins at Tambaram. “It is here that she transforms from a rural fresh water stream into a polluted urban river. Urban sewage starts draining into the river. More urban waste mixes along the way. As she trickles into Thiruneermalai, she encounters a municipality-run landfill at the bund.” Industrial waste is introduced at Chrompet and the river is beyond recognition by the time it reaches Besant Nagar.

Along the Mambalam canal, Arun saw 800 urban poor families living along the river bund. “Their toilets drain into the canal,” he says. The rich are no exception. At a golf course next to the YMCA campus in Nandanam, hundreds of used paper cups were dumped into the river.

Continued on page 3

From page 1

There were even discarded golf clubs. At the point of culmination, awaited a rude surprise — “I saw sofa sets, poultry waste, religious idols, footwear...”

Arun hopes that his photos trigger some action amidst youngsters.

“They should take pride in the three rivers and the 300 lakes that make up Chennai’s ecosystem. Secondly, they should be ashamed at the condition of the water bodies.

Finally, a sense of responsibility should creep in,” he says. “A lot of schools have approached us to teach students about our lakes and rivers. The photo exhibition will be a part of our outreach programmes.”

What is the significance of the Adyar River to Chennai? “The Adyar,” explains Arun, “is Chennai’s identity. She is of hydrological, cultural, and historical importance. She is a carrier, and not a perennial river. She carries large amounts of water into the sea during the North-East monsoon.”

The 30-year-old knows the river well.

“She can be very vengeful,” warns Arun. “If we take care of her, she can prevent any amount of flooding. But, if we don’t, well, you know what happens.”

People in Chennai aren’t even aware of the river that runs a few streets from where they live