The tale of a neighboring state: The entrepreneurial Gujarat.

Reading much about the progress of Gujarat lately, the hunger to explore this land was slowly developing in my mind. Then, the opportunity entered through my door almost like Goddess Laxmi. This year, the festival of lights apparently had a special plan in store for me. Here’s how it all started…

One evening during a chat session at Gopalas, Siddharth casually suggested that I join him at his hometown. Siddharth is a good pal of mine who hails from Gandhidham, Kutch. Perhaps he was not aware of my appetite till then, but he must have been quite surprised, for I immediately agreed. And thus we started chalking out our plan in full throttle of excitement, like school going kids gaming on some mischief.

After several unsuccessful attempts to get a train ticket under the tatkal service, I took the brave decision of travelling by bus. The journey had a lot to see, to hear, to learn.

Maharashtra and Gujarat are complementary siblings from the same womb. I will elucidate this by starting a comparison of their roadways. One can call them as the ether of Gujarat; the place is riddled with broad lane state and national highways that facilitate rapid transportation and connectivity of the interiors with their district capitals. To a traveler from Mumbai who is accustomed to the pothole ridden bumpy rides, these seem like F1 practice laps. Arguably though, one should think twice before carelessly tossing the blame on the state transport authorities of Maharashtra. The two states, however adjacent to each other, have completely different topographies and climatic conditions. Rains are one of Mother Nature’s most ferocious elements, and it makes but a guest appearance in Gujarat. The roads survive the heat.

As the highway snakes its way across the length and the breadth of the country, one notices the silent presence of the three loyal electric lines running obediently besides you. Perched atop these cables, you will discover flocks of charming little racket tailed Drongos pecking at the dry, harsh air. Welcome to the state of the mighty Sabarmati and Narmada; welcome to the state where deserts are cultivated with Taiwanese papayas and Israeli watermelons. Welcome To Gujarat.

Along the journey, tiny stalls selling huge baskets of piping hot fafda, chilies and jalebis sporadically make their presence, flocked as they are with the ravenous locals. Women have a distinct touch of rustic beauty on them; their pierced nose, colorful blouses and jingling dresses are a welcome to the sore eye, a contrast to the barren ambience they come from. The horizon stretches on for miles, which is simply out of question in Maharashtra, since the country of this state is interspersed with the mighty Sahyadris. The landscape oscillates between barren lands and vast green fields swaying gently below the deep blue skies. As I wonder how the farms survive the harsh strokes of heat, the answer zooms past me: a long canal lazily wiggles its way through the fields.

Suddenly, the bus stops in the middle of nowhere; a few passengers want to take a leak. The terra firma appears to be arid, empty. As soon as the door swings open, the men jump at the opportunity. Running off the highway into the fields, they quickly unzip their trousers and relish the delights of relieving their bladders. A teenager eagerly steps down from the bus with similar intentions; though that’s when she notices a tiny toddler urinating on the ground next to the bus, skirts up and all. There isn’t a single tree in sight for miles to cover, and as the cruel truth dawns upon her tender mind, she dejectedly turns her footsteps back. I wonder when we will introduce public latrines inside buses, atleast for the sake of women. It is a natural calamity, it is a national calamity.

Evolution of modern townships – Adipur, Gandhidham.

After twenty hours of a back breaking journey spanning across east to west of Gujarat, I finally land up in Gandhidham. Not less than twenty seconds into the car, and I have already started developing affection towards Mr. Hero Tirthani, Sid’s father. The two of them turned up at the bus stop to receive me, bags and all. As the white Santro navigates its way through the by-lanes of Adipur, Mr.Tirthani takes the pleasure of introducing me to this new township. I observe him as a passionate enthusiast with a huge appetite for a variety of topics. A former Lion’s club president, Mr. Tirthani’s personality comes across as a warm social celebrity with the distinct pride of being a denizen of the town he resides in. Without further ado, we start with the history of Adipur.

Much of the Kutch district was primarily a dessert during the pre-Independence era. The land belonged to the two provinces of Sindh and Gujarat. However, after the partition of India and Pakistan in 1947, India lost much of the province of Sindh including the Karachi port. The towns of Adipur and Gandhidham were simply non-existent then. The area had vast expanses of arid-dessert like topography filled with thorny cacti, wild snakes and scorpions; it was unfit for humans. The partition had inflicted a heavy wound upon lakhs of residents in western India and Pakistan; they were now homeless, and rehabilitation was inevitably bound to arrive. But they had a leader, a visionary – Bhai Pratap Dialdas (1908-1967). This freedom fighter from Sindh was in the forefront with the likes of Nehru and Patel during the struggle for independence.
With a dream in his mind, Bhai Pratap approached Maharao Madansinhji, the ruler of Kutch. As a kind gesture and a mark of respect to Bhai, the Maharao offered a vast area of land in his district. After consulting town planners and establishing the Sindhi Resettlement Corporation (SRC), Bhai Pratap’s dream steadily took a concrete shape into what western India recognizes today as the modern townships of Gandhidham – Adipur. Initially, the barren lands had to be improvised to make them habitable for humans. Bhai Pratap used revolutionary approaches like offering incentives for eradicating the poisonous scorpions and snakes in the vicinity, for 25 paise and 50 paise each. Small initiatives like these ensured that the people to be rehabilitated were also employed with activities and went a long way into establishing their home town. When you work for building your place of residence right from the grass root level, you tend to develop a strong feeling of attachment for that land. This affection can be positively felt in almost every household today, including the Tirthani’s. They love the soil and will go to great extents to develop it further.

Lovely breakfasts…

Enter Mrs. Nisha Tirthani: Siddharth’s mom, another former Lion’s club president and an exceptionally magnificent cook. An amiable mother; she always treated me like her son. A connoisseur of Sindhi food, Mrs. Tirthani ensured that I got a taste of the best, and she would put in every effort to make this possible. I thoroughly enjoyed the taste of various cuisines right from the Spanish omelets to chicken salads and soups, including the fantastic mutton delicacies, the succulent meats and butter laden rotis. A terrific treat for my taste buds, I must confess. While she would churn up dish after dish for us, Mr. Tirthani would update me with the necessary knowledge surrounding the delicacies. As a result, there were lively discussions at the dining table with every one offering their perspectives, while satiating our tummies.

A generation of erudite…

The Tolanis are the second reason for development of the modern township – they established a host of educational institutions which cater from early childhood right up to post graduation in various streams. As a result of this contribution in the early years, the generation in the town today consists of populace with double degrees and broad visions. For an elfin town, Adipur is home to numerous educational institutions and literacy rates are significantly higher than most of the surrounding townships. The result is an erudite society that feeds on rational thoughts and clean lifestyles. The average household possesses a burgeoning collection of books, social meetings are attended by the learned, and adequate pools of culture are maintained by public libraries. The constant strive for preserving the traditions of the Sindhi community is visible in the Indian Institute of Sindhology, a local establishment with an interesting name.

The town has been developed into self-sufficient districts which are further sub-divided into neighbouring wards. In the early days, water was a major issue, obvious to any place which is a part of a dessert. This issue was handled when a pipeline containing Narmada water found its way into the town. It is surprising to a Mumbaikar when he opens the basin tap and water freely gushes out of it; this is a luxury which more than half of our population is not fortunate enough to enjoy. Our state government has other priorities on its mind. Adipur serves as a perfect case study of a well planned town, and should be studied carefully by architects and town developers of tomorrow.

A visit to the epicenter…

Bhuj is the modern day headquarters of the Kutch district. As a town, it enjoys a historic importance, being home to many palaces, schools and temples. Among the most famous ones are the Nagar Khana and the Aina Mahal. At the center of the town lies a placid lake with the fort walls on one side and a couple of temples on the other. The gothic structures of Alfred High school and the local museum makes you feel as if you are in South Bombay. It’s hard to believe that an earthquake of horrific intensity had annihilated the whole town, just seven years back.

The first thing we do in Bhuj is eat. Vicky’s Restaurant is the most renowned eatery in the town, a hangout of the socialites and foreigners. The air conditioned interiors are decorated with large traditional Gujarati works on a western architecture; the waiters are clad in a typical white kurta and a red turban. An enormous plate lies in front of you, and steadily the contents start filling with scrumptious vegetables, dals, kadis and rotis. Dhoklas, dahi wadas and hot jalebis come in next; and it doesn’t end here. Rather, the whole process is never ending unless you firmly stop the waiter from further hospitality. A veggie’s ultimate delight, that’s my final verdict.

It’s a herculean effort to explore any town after such a filling luncheon. But the museum immediately took care of that. One of the best places to start from, this rock structure is house to some of the priceless treasures of the town. There are scriptures dating back to 11 A.D, and a sample of eroded tree trunk residing within a glass cage makes you gasp when you notice the placard below it – “belongs to the Jurassic era”. The place is a time machine, for it takes you on a journey dating almost 150 million years back. An entire evolution of generations pose behind glass shelves – coins, rocks, weapons, clothes. Kutch has several tribes with their own unique traditions and each has contributed towards the history of the land. The museum pays tribute to all of them by housing their sculptures, giving minute attention to the style of clothing, occupations and physical features. It comes across as a pleasant surprise to the visitors and local residents that the town has such a rich history to boast of.

Next on the list after the museum, is Nagar Khana. As we step out of the car and my eyes first rest upon the ancient structure, a surge of exotic familiarity passes through me; this feels like déjà vu. The palace, the towers, they look surprisingly familiar…and lo! The puzzle clicks in, finally. Nagar Khana is another example of a gothic structure like the many at Fort, Mumbai. The tower overlooking the town limits reminds one of Rajabai towers (Bombay University), except that the vast green lawns of the Oval are missing here. What you find instead, are rubbles of dirt and stone, deep cracks in the wall here and there; the scars of a recent mishap. However, even in this day and time, the palace interiors, the staircases, the wide corridors with wooden floorings and ceilings unfailingly create a majestic experience for the traveler. At some places, the wooden ceiling has cracked and pairs of bright green parakeets poke their head out and noisily chirp at you. But alas, they are the only living inhabitants of this magnificent structure today.

As the engine roars to life again, we head towards yet another destination, which was according to me the cherry on top of the pie. A few kilometers ahead of Bhuj, we start noticing an air force base and several defense camps in the vicinity. Beyond it is a small hill with a road going right till the top of it. We can see a couple of circular whitewashed huts built atop the hill; it seems like a resort. Quite a weird location to set up a resort of such a trendy fashion, right in the middle of an area surrounded by military base camps.
And then I notice it.
The land in front is barren, for miles. The harsh rays of the sun are scorching down upon your head. But right there in the heart of it, mesmerizing your sight is a colossal water body stretching from east to west; placid, calm. Rudramata dam. The magnificent cherry on top of the pie has finally been placed, and I am speechless for a few minutes, spellbound by the fascinating bird’s eye view offered from the hill top. As we sit in the shade sipping on cold drinks, my mind is finally at peace. I have never experienced something like this before, it is a strange and unique feeling, something I will cherish for a lifetime. As I look beyond the desert, I already know it; the sibling state, the pastoral Bhuj, the Rudramata dam is going to receive my visit again. The social towns, the rustic spirit, the entrepreneurial attitude are lessons for life, an inspiration to do more. To strive hard for success, to build castles out of sand. We have a long way to go, I guess.

As Robert Frost would quote...
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.