THE ROAD TO ORISSA AND BACK
From the journal of my adorable son
Abishek Bharadwaj
- abishekbh@gmail.com
It all started with me wanting to work at the grassroots after completing my masters in the US. When I started my assignment, I chose to take over the micro-hydro projects, staying out of Kalahandi, one of the remotest districts in India, a part of the infamous KBK region. Transitioning from Pittsburgh to Bhavanipatna was a challenge as expected, but at the end of one year I have experiences things far more intense than I had imagined.
In a new millennia with development paradigms redefined every decade in a developing country like India, Kalahandi is like none other. One can drive 50 kms at a stretch without lights and devoid of basic necessities. But who defines what people truly need? It is astonishing how these people settled in areas which possess quite a challenge to reach. All they cared about is an access to basic resources and fertile land, most often close to perennial streams and amongst vegetated hillocks. Elsewhere technology and capital prosperity are factors to determining a future. There are superfluous amounts of money flowing into the district only for lack of ingenuity, extortion and fraudulency to mirror any positive intent, rendering hopelessness.
I came to work in the village of Punjam, which is situated at a distance of 60 kms from the nearest town. Placed in a valley surrounded by beautiful hills and amidst two perennial streams, this 110 household village, comprising mostly of tribals is one of a kind. The soil is incredibly fertile and the climate is apt to grow absolutely anything under the sun.
My one year in Kalahandi has changed me quite a bit. Since the organization’s focus was not micro-hydro, I was working independently on the project. I was responsible for the technical, social and financial implementation of the project with no support whatsoever. I started off in Punjam, not knowing the language and my communication was initially all sign language, only later to pick up a language that I called Okhra, a major concoction of Oriya, Hindi and Kui (a tribal language).
I was stationed at Bhavanipatna, where I worked with a local workshop team that fabricated the turbine and an electrical winding person who helped install the project. Staying in a shady room, scavenging for decent food and water, withstanding temperatures as low as 1 degree and as high as 48 degrees were a part of the craziness in this lackadaisical town where intermittent telephone signal and incessant power cuts were accepted as inadequacies of technology.
I should say I enjoyed working in the beautiful micro-hydro environments where a perennial stream and steep terrains amongst thick jungles are pre-requisites. Understanding the tribal way of life and innovating my way through to blend in the technology with few available resources worsened by unsuitable terrains and remoteness, were indeed positive takeaways. There were lots to experience from riding through streams, staying in malarial endemic conditions without contacting the virus and just about avoiding being washed away by a flashflood. Revisiting these memories what I would love to share were the last two weeks of the project which has certainly left an eternal print.
Fighting against time because of pressure from the funders, I had to complete the project in two weeks; I had great help from a Sri Lankan friend Ajith Kumara, who is by far the most talented barefoot engineer I have worked with. He supplied the Electronic Load Controller (ELC), a very essential part of the project and boy…was it good! The plan was to provide the street lights as soon as possible and then work on the supplying the power to the houses while concurrently tuning the ELC against the street light load. Persistent unyielding rains were acting like a persuasive force against the progress of the project. Slushy roads made it impossible to traverse the road in a vehicle and we had to walk 6 kms off road just to reach the village which also included wading through the bulging stream. Ajith and I had long working days which involved an average of 16 kms walk. I took care of the affairs at the village while Ajith was working out of the powerhouse situated 2kms uphill from the village. Communication was a challenge as the village does not have phone lines. We devised innovative strategies to work in tandem and to test the supply.
It took nearly two days to test and supply power to the street lights. Punjam received its first light on 31st of July, 2012, which is also ironically the day a significant part of India had a blackout due to a grid failure. Punjam did not realize the failure of the modern world and its energy options as they already become self-reliant with their alternative energy option lighting their streets. That was certainly a significant progress.
A bizarre incident marred the usual excitement in the villagers with the first shine of light. Apparently the local goddess (Devi) was flustered by the light which punctured the quintessential darkness that absorbed the way of life in the village till then. The spirit of the Devi embodied a maiden in the village resulting in her losing control of herself. I witnessed the incident with circumspect as these beliefs were archaic for my urbane way of thought and I initially believed it was all staged. But the maiden’s uncontrolled continuous shivering coupled with rising body temperature and incongruous inscrutable lamenting convinced me that she was naturally in a state of dementia. According to the villagers the only way of placating the Devi was to perform a tribal pooja or a ritual the following day at the dam site, since the micro-hydro project was held accountable for the occurrence of this. The ritual was performed with a tribal priestess involving a sacrifice of a goat so that the Devi is satiated with the goat’s life thereby departing the maiden’s body. The sacrifice was undertaken by a trained villager with an exquisite two generations old antique axe. The goat’s neck is to be slashed by a single blow, devoid of which the entire ritual will have to be repeated and indeed the sacrifice was done with great dexterity. Though I was in opposition to the sacrifice of the goat, I was certainly intrigued by the turn of events following the ritual, where the maiden reclaimed her normal self after a short slumber. When I interrogated her out of curiosity, the maiden declared that she does not have the faintest idea of what happened and the entire night snatched from her into oblivion.
The following week was equally exciting with us supplying power to each household. Ajith and I worked assiduously in installing the safety equipments, energy meters and checking the house wiring in all the 110 homes before energizing them. We trained the operators selected by the village committee to handle the system in our absence and counseled them through the week on maintaining it in order. The celebration in the village commenced very early in the day with almost the entire village intoxicating themselves at the advent of energy lighting their houses. Most of them were too inebriated to grasp the gravity of the moment the lights were actually turned on. However, I did bask in satisfaction from the ecstatic reactions radiated by the sober few. The quality of AC power supplied to the houses was flawless illustrating a perfect sinusoidal wave in our oscilloscope. I could not have asked for anything better after a years’ toil.
By then I had already put in my papers and those were the last few days of my stay in Kalahandi before I set out for my next phase of life in a more urban setting. Ajith and I bid our goodbyes to Punjam and Bhawanipatna before embarking on our journey back to the head office at Berhampur. Settled in the bus, Ajith and I finally got time to reflect back and discuss the project. After the adrenaline levels and exhaustion at its peak we were enjoying the sobriety. Even in our wildest dreams we wouldn’t have sermonized what we had in store that night. Around 12:30, while we were travelling through the forest in Kandhemal, our bus was stopped and 6 men with glossy INSAS guns entered the bus. Yes it really happened, the maoists had information that a cop was travelling with us and they needed him. They quickly examined all the potential men to find the cop. I was particularly scared for Ajith, as he was a foreigner had does not understand a word of the perfect Hindi the maoists communicated in. The maoists were not convinced with our answers and they decided to haul the bus off road into the pitch dark forest for about 400 mts. After we parked they asked every man in the bus to disembark in singles for interrogation at gun point. Ajith and I fortunately were sitting at far end of the bus, much to my dislike, till then. With a comrade standing right next to us, I had to whisper to Ajith, explaining what was happening as he was completely lost and was almost thinking it was some weird drill. I was concurrently harassing myself to come up with a plan as I absolutely would not know how they would react when Ajith’s turn comes. Again fortunately when Ajith’s turn came we were called in pairs. This greatly relieved me, as I can be the mouth for Ajith too. The interrogation at gun point was certainly harrowing and this happened for 15 minutes. Lots of questions asked, lots answered and they let us get back into the bus with empty pockets! We were held hostage for almost 3 hours till they were convinced none of us were cops and finally much to our bliss, the ordeal ended. We then drove to the nearest police station where there was CRPF presence, only for them to deny accepting that we were stopped by maoists and they filed a report saying we were mugged by conventional low grade armed dacoits. There is so much to talk with respect to naxals and the few I had met and the state’s frustrating stance against the movement. I will probably write a separate piece on that.
This maoists incident almost serendipitously happened just to make me aware that I had not experienced enough and needed this to complete the cycle, just like an icing on the cake, only layered much thicker and will stay longer in my memory! At the end of one year I can say I am multi-dimensionally enriched and am proud of changing something in the lives of 400 people, and this exactly between the Independence days of 2011 and 2012. Jai Hind!
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