Two Weeks in India Part 2- The Andaman Islands

Although spending time in Calcutta was pleasant enough, there is no hiding the fact that the part of the visit I was most looking forward to was without doubt the trip we were due to make to the Andaman and Nicobar Islands, India’s most remote state. After a few days in the smog of Calcutta, we were all pining for some fresh air and sunshine- this place had both in piles.

When we’d been asked about what our plans were for Christmas, we’d said we were going to visit the Andaman Islands. In most cases this was greeted with consistently blank expressions. I’m assuming from this that (as with me before the idea of visiting had been mooted) most people don’t have a clue where on earth the Andamans actually are. This being the case, it probably makes sense to give a brief introduction to them.

The Andaman and Nicobar Islands as seen from Google Earth

The Andaman and Nicobar Islands are a long string of islands (over 200 in all) located at the eastern side of the Bay of Bengal. The top most tip (the very fashionably named Coco Channel) is more or less on the same latitude as Bangkok with the southernmost point of the Nicobar Islands almost touching Singapore. The southern part of the archipelago (the Nicobar Islands) are almost entirely off limits to foreigners. Our stay was limited to two main islands- South Andaman, home to the capital, Port Blair, and the smaller and less developed Havelock Island.

View from South Andaman

The islands have a long history and have been mentioned by famous travellers such as Ptolemy and Marco Polo. Until relatively recently, the population consisted entirely of a number of tribes with ethnic characteristics close to both Africa and Asia. One theory has it that in fact these islands were a stopping off point on man’s original migration out of Africa- not sure if that is right but if they did decide to stop off for a multi millennia break, then stopping here wasn’t a bad move on their part.

Apart from the occasional traveller, the indigenous population seems to have been left in peace until relatively recently. A few pirates may have used the islands as a hideout and spread the rumour that the area was populated by savage man eating monsters. This may not have been true but it was a mighty good way to protect their loot!

The peace and quiet was broken forever towards the end of the 18th century by the British. A certain Lieutenant Blair arrived on what is now called South Andaman and decided that this would be a perfect place to site a penal colony. He founded a capital city, modestly named it Port Blair. After long attempts to pacify the islanders, the British were finally able to build a jail there in the 1850s

The Cellular Jail is probably the one feature of the Andamans known to all Indians. For the best part of a century, this jail, known as the Indian Bastille was home to all sorts of political prisoners. The name comes from the fact that the jail consisted solely of cells- each prisoner was kept in solitary confinement under pretty awful conditions. Accounts I’ve heard of the conditions are shameful- prisoners were only allowed to go to the toilet at four preset times during the day and were subject to physical punishment for daring to need to go at any other time. Almost half the original prison population died. The rate of attrition for the thousands who followed was not much better.

I was fortunate enough to meet an uncle of Soma’s a year or so before he died. An ardent communist, he was sent to this prison at the age of thirteen. He came out of there fifteen years later a broken man. It was plain to see decades later that although his convictions remain strong and his arguments coherent, he had been a physical mess for a long time.

We rightly spend much time praising the bravery and nobility of our ancestors at places such as Dunkirk and Normandy. However, we must not forget that at the same time these people were fighting for our freedom, some of their colleagues were beating young boys to death for the crime of wanting to go the toilet at the wrong time. Some of our ancestors we should be proud of- others perhaps less so.

The Cellular Jail- not Britain's finest achievement

The beginning of the end of this jail came in 1942 when the islands were occupied by the Japanese. In many ways this was a case of “out of the frying pan into the fire”. Previously the vicious treatment was directed only towards prisoners. The Japanese, however, considered all islanders potential spies. Stories abound of shiploads of civilians being towed out to sea and drowned. Fortunately the occupation was short lived. The British returned very briefly until India gained independence in 1947 and the jail was closed.

Understandably, the islands are seen by India as a symbol of the struggle for independence. It is no coincidence that the Indian flag was first raised on these islands before statehood was announced elsewhere in 1947.

In the intervening years, the islands became the destination of choice for refugees- Bengalis from Bangladesh and Tamils from Sri Lanka make up much of the islands population now, dwarfing the original inhabitants.

All continued peacefully until 2004 when the islands were hit by the Tsunami. In a few minutes catastrophic destruction hit the islands and 35,000 people were killed. The evidence of this is still there to see five years on.

So it was to these islands that the Air India flight carrying four Chubbs and a number of Maliks landed one December morning. Sadly one of the Chubbs (me) was doubled up in pain having drunk a dodgy coffee at Calcutta Airport- my painful but thankfully brief and solitary encounter with stomach complaints in India so far.

We made it to our hotel without problem and Soma and the boys headed to the beach, leaving me doubled up in bed. By lunchtime all was apparently well and we headed into Port Blair for a spot of sightseeing. However, by the time we got to the Cellular Jail I was showing signs of dehydration and was promptly sent back, passing out several times in the car! The first day was entirely forgettable and, thanks to a severe lack of electrolytes I did in fact manage to forget much of the afternoon!

The next day we were scheduled to go island hopping. I was much better but wisely thought that remote islands were not the place to be should I take another bad turn. I let the others go off and arranged to meet them for lunch on a neighbouring island. I was to be met at ten and a car would take me sightseeing before heading on to lunch.



Typical street scene- centre of Port Blair


Predictably, ten o’clock came and went- no car. Half past ten- no car. Not wanting to waste more of my holiday I headed down to the road and flagged down an autorickshaw. After a quick argument over fare, I was speeding off into Port Blair- freedom at last! The Cellular Jail continued its jinx over me- that day was the one day of the week it was closed. Never mind- I walked on into town to see what was there. Not an awful lot to be honest but in any case wandering through the markets and seeing the general hustle and bustle of a small island town is fun in itself. There was small memorial to the soldiers fallen in the Great War of 1914- 1920- the memorial was obviously built before they’d figured when the War actually ended so it must have been a pretty early memorial. After an hour or so I got bored of walking around so headed to the small stadium where a cricket match was in full flow. I’d never seen an Indian cricket match before so it was quite fun watching this one. It was only a low level match- the Andamans aren’t really known as a hotbed of cricket- but even so, the supporters seemed pretty involved. I didn’t understand what they were saying but I think it’s fair to say that “hard luck chap” wasn’t one of the phrases being hurled from the crowd when some unfortunate was bowled out!

My first Indian cricket match- Port Blair

After an hour or so I figured it was time to go meet the others for lunch on Mount Harriet. First step- where is it? After asking a local shopkeeper, I found out that I needed to take a rickshaw to Chatham Saw Mill, a few miles away, catch a ferry to a place called Bamboo Flats, then take another rickshaw to the top of Mount Harriet- no problem right? All was going well enough- the rickshaw took about 15 minutes and I got a ticket for the shortly departing ferry- magic. I was just taking in the view when I got a tap on the shoulder- behind me was a very hot and flustered tour driver- the guy who had been meant to take me around all morning. Apparently he’d been working with his company all morning to track down the missing Brit. As a last bet he’d waited at the ferry station, thinking I’d have to come here to make my appointment- spot on. “Where were you?” he asked. I asked the same of him- where was he at ten this morning? “I was only an hour late” was his response! Suddenly I felt much less guilty about leading him on a wild goose chase all morning. We made the crossing together and he drove me up to the meeting spot- lucky since I’d have had no chance of finding everyone had I been alone- Bamboo Flats would have been the end of my quest.

Anyway, all was uneventful the rest of our time on South Andaman. The hotel was nice but basic- still being rebuilt after 2004. Seeing how close it was to the coast it must surely have been more or less entirely washed away.

A few days later we found ourselves on Havelock Island, a four hour ferry ride away. This island is both less developed and far more beautiful than South Andaman. On many occasions we found it just like Zanzibar- beautiful but totally unfamiliar with how to cater for tourists. Inconvenient it may be but is this lack of tourist focus really such a bad thing?

For the first of our two nights on the island we found ourselves in a different hotel to the others. We headed off to a mystery hotel filled with trepidation as to what lay ahead. In fact, what lay in store was perhaps the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. We were booked into an eco lodge at a remote beach called Radhanagar. The accommodation was basic- a single fibreglass dome with a bed and bathroom. However, the front door was less than 100 metres from the beach- what a place to spend New Year’s Eve. We spent an afternoon playing on the beach and riding elephants before going to a local Dabha (small local café) for dinner. Dinner took the form of a vegetable thali each, which all of us demolished happily. The best bit for me at least was that the waitress was on hand to dole out seconds and even thirds- totally stuffed for about a dollar each!

An Ecolodge at Radhanagar Beach- our home for New Years Eve

We’d arranged with our driver that he’d come and watch over the kids for an hour or so in the evening so we could spend a bit of time at a beach party. He never turned up sadly, so Soma and I had the normal parental experience of New Year at home. Actually I was pretty wiped so didn’t mind too much. The explanation we’d got the next day was that he’d broken down in the middle of the island and had to walk hours through the dark to get back. A more cynical person might think that he’d been sidetracked by a party and gotten blasted- I’ll go with his explanation though!

New Year’s morning was a very peaceful experience. I woke up at about 5.30 (exactly midnight in the UK by coincidence) and went for a walk on the beach. I had the whole place to myself, with the exception of a few wild dogs. I watched the sunrise then headed back. We all came out for a walk at about 8. We still had the beach to ourselves. Surely this was the stuff dreams were made of- the beach voted the best in Asia apparently was stretching out for the best part of a mile each way and there was not a soul apart from us on it. We walked a little more then headed off to Rahul’s dabha for breakfast.

Kieran on the beach New Year's Day with all the other tourists

Two boys poking piles of elephant dung on Radhanagar Beach- lovely!

We loved this place so much that we called and cancelled our meet- up with the others- let them do their island hopping; we were staying here! We spent the morning lapping up Radhanagar before taking a rickshaw across the green island interior to the next hotel.

From this moment onwards it was all about heading back. We spent a final night on Havelock before taking the ferry back to Port Blair. One more night at Port Blair and we were off to the airport- back to Calcutta.

The first sunrise of 2009- taken at 5.30am 1/1/09 on Radhanagar Beach

It is clear from any sort of reading up on the area that these islands combine phenomenal beauty with the kind of tragedy you wouldn’t wish on any population. Over the centuries, the original inhabitants have been marginalized by newcomers; prisoners have been subjected to the most appalling brutality by people claiming to be civilised; islanders have been persecuted by the Japanese and finally decimated by one of the most damaging natural disasters of recent times. However, despite the obvious scars, the island retains a true beauty. We travelled a lot and live in a place which is home to some of the most stunning beaches anywhere on earth. However, both of us agree that we have yet to find a place more jaw-droppingly beautiful than the beach the four of us were lucky enough to spend a solitary family morning on at the start of 2009.