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Katchall Island, a tiny dot on the map, is making
waves as the first recipient of the millennium sun. Due to its
fragile eco-system the island will be out of bounds to tourists. Here
is a rare first hand account of a brief tryst with the island.
Katchall Island is a news
item in all the leading newspapers. It is said that it will be kissed
by the first rays of the millennium sun. This news takes me back a
decade and a half when I first visited the island on an official
tour.
I was headquartered in
Port Blair from where I boarded a private boat, M.V. Safeena, owned
by the Jadwets. The Jadwets in those days were practically the lords
of the southern group of Andaman and Nicobar Islands. They made their
fortune through trading in arecanuts, coconuts and shells and
controlled the monopoly of these 200 islands.
I arrived at Nancowri
island. It is a natural horse-shoe shaped harbour with a literate
hillock sporadically interspersed with shrubs and coconut
plantations. Within half an hour of my arrival I was ready to set out
for Katchall island as a boat was just leaving with rations. Rations
are the lifeline of the islanders and the vessel Safeena was the
harbinger of goodwill. I missed the boat and had to fend for myself
for ten days. I had no option but to pass my days sightseeing and
familiarizing myself with Nancowri. When the next ration boat arrived
I made my way to Katchall. It was a full moon day and high tides were
expected so we started off at 9 am and it took us one and a half
hours to cover just five nautical miles.
I had just four hours to
tour the island. There were brick roads laid by the Forest Department
when they successfully planted rubber saplings on an experimental
basis. The lactic content of rubber milk compares better than Kerala.
However, the cost of transportation to the mainland proved
prohibitive. Moving on I came upon a village. There were neat and
clean huts constructed on stilts and children in colourful dresses
playing in the blazing mid-April sun but there was a sea breeze
blowing and swaying coconut fronds to provide shade and cool comfort.
A little ahead I saw a red clad teenaged girl on a brand new bicycle.
I looked at her and saw pride in her new possession and a look of
confidence and honour. That was the basic ethos of the womenfolk in
Nicobarese society—a matriarchal society.
Time was flying and I
wanted to reach at least the end of the village mud road. Suddenly a
cool breeze passed over me and I knew the beach would be nearby. It
was a milky while beach, clean, uncluttered. Then I spied a boy,
hardly three years old, all alone on the beach wearing a faded yellow
shirt. He was dancing facing the waves. The still sea, the sea green
water, a fishing trawler in the distance and the child in yellow
flashed in my mind’s eye the eternal dance of creation—the
primeval instinct where the human in the form of an eternal
super-being expressed the all-powerful desire of creation. The child
was the symbol, the waves the forms and Mother Nature the performer.
I wondered what a
Nicobarese lady would look like. I discovered her with innocent smile
and a look of acceptance, grace and honour. What about the men folk?
I saw a Nicobarese boat with muscled men wearing intricate necklaces
made of strings from coconut leaves. They were returning from a
ceremony at a neighbouring island.
My four hours were over.
I ran to the wharf. The benign crew of the boat were understanding
and enquired whether I had launched. They brought out a plate of
steaming rice and hot fish curry. By the time we started our return
journey it was full tide. The journey would be turbulent and slower
than before. Suddenly the sea turned black and tuna fish started
jumping into the boat. First one, then two and then in shoals! I
panicked as the boat was small and doubted whether it would bear the
load. Each tuna must have weighed 2 kg. I enquired whether this was a
usual phenomenon. The crew members explained that on full moon days
this usually occurs. We reached Nancowri harbour with our load of
tuna and anchored. I had to be helped to the wharf due to the waves
that rocked the boat. As I was about to take my leave, the crew
insisted I take my share of tuna. Equal sharing was the custom. I
wondered what I would do with the tuna and where I would cook it.
However, on their insistence, I carried two to the guest house. The
local cook was on leave. The attendant found a solution. The local
cook was on leave. The attendant found a solution. He cut the tuna,
washed them and then brought some lemon type wild leaves and asked me
to eat the tuna raw with the leaves. I had never eaten raw fish.
Anyway I tasted one and it was an exhilarating experience and the
fish tasted delicious! The wild leaves had taken care of the smell
and salt.
I left the island the
following morning but I carried with me unforgettable images—of
the Nicobarese searching for seashells at sunset, the variety of
colours, the soothing greenery unspoiled by pollution and the
tranquil sea…
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