Water World: A Trip to Puri and nearby Places: Part Two

As per our plan, on the third day of our Orissa trip we set out early in the morning for Barkula. On reaching the OTDC lodge Subha had booked, we inquired about the boats that ferry tourists to the islands of Chilika Lake, before settling down for a breakfast of puri and sabji. Since we could not avail any of the boats rented by the OTDC, we opted for a privately owned diesel motor boat.

The boat took us to a spot where huge, partly submerged rocks had come together to form an island. Subha and I alighted from the boat to get a better feel of the place. Tiptoeing over the pointy edges of rocks, we landed on the comparatively flat surfaces, amidst the other tourists who posed and clicked selfies. We got into the boat again and sped toward the island, taking in the unobstructed sky, the vast expanse of rippling water and the humming of the engine. Our destination appeared to us as a thin dark line at first and then as a swarm of green swirls. After stepping on Kalijai island, we offered our prayers at its temple and ambled along the path bordering a dense clump of trees. Sprawled on wide, cement steps, we spent some lovely moments near the water, listening to the chirping of the birds inhabiting the copiously leafed trees.

Back at the main land, we lunched at the well-known Chilika Dhaba. relishing the spiciness of the dry chilli prawn while two adorable cats mewed near our legs, demanding a share of the delicacies. We allowed ourselves only a half-an-hour rest in the lodge as we needed to reach Mangalajodi Wetlands before sunset.

At Mangalajodi, on either side of the road, there seemed to be unending fields interspersed with water. It was only later that I came to know the 'fields' were, in fact, stretches of water, covered by aquatic plants. I was thrilled when Subha told us we had come here for boating. Like many people, I had taken boat rides in rivers and lakes and a launch ride in the sea. But the prospect of tracing the blue ribbons of water that meshed with the greenery appeared more enticing. However, there was no one in sight and for a few frustrating minutes, it felt like we would have to return without exploring the wetlands. But luck favored and we spotted a man on a scooter. Following our request he sent for two boatmen and soon we were in a country boat, cutting through the swathes of green and tickling past dainty yellow and purple flowers.

The boat eased through the floating forest and traversed across the orange trails of the setting sun. At some places the water peeped out of the green like a small round hole and at other places it stretched into a long thin line, but by now I knew it was water everywhere, whether visible or disguised by a cloak of plants. And there were birds. Even though it was not the season for birds, there were many winged creatures, of varied types, perched on the reeds, wading through the water or fluttering near it. Among the two locals accompanying us, one man rowed while the other acquainted us with the birds. There were Indian pond heron, red wagtail, glossy ibis, blue tail beater and many more. The place seemed straight out of a fairy tale book with top-notch illustrations or a dream sequence in a movie with excellent production value. I dipped my hand in the water and stirred it to cook up a froth, soaking in the magic of undoubted reality. In a planet plagued by deforestation, poaching and pollution, it seemed a miracle to find myself amidst the unimpeded splendor of nature. Mangalajodi reminded us how overwhelming the company of nature can be. At the same time it surged up our responsibility to ensure that the future generations would not be deprived of a tryst of this kind.

The next day, on our way back to Kolkata we stopped at Udaigiri and then at Nandankanan. At Udaigiri, the caves carved by Jaina monks in the 2nd century BC stared at us like deep dark eyes that wanted to say hundreds of words from their hundreds of years of existence. We climbed the steps and trooped into the hollows in the hill, one after another and scanned the walls for etchings. The experience was akin to clicking on scratch cards as some of them had carvings and other not.

I had been to the Hyderabad zoo and to the one in Bannerghatta near Bangalore where tigers, lions and other carnivorous mammals are not confined within cages, but allowed to roam freely in different zones dedicated to them. Nandankanan is conceptualized in the same way. I recalled being extremely enthusiastic about coming to this zoo at the age of nine. The image of two hairy elephant calves remains imprinted in my mind. This time, with my spirits considerably dampened by Nirjhorini's continuous bawling over trivial matters, I trudged indifferently into the zoo premises. However, I regained my excitement as soon as I boarded the bus that would take us to the dwellings of the magnificent wild animals. Through the barred windows of the vehicle, we spotted two tigers, a bear and a limb of an almost concealed lion. Every time we chanced upon an animal, I lifted my daughter in my arms and took her close to the window so she could also find delight in observing it lolling on the grass or strolling among the bushes.

Relieved of Nirjhorini's tantrums, we entered the OTDC restaurant in Nandankanan to have our last lunch of the trip. Little did I know that it would be the best meal I ever had in my life so far. No chicken or mutton dishes are available in this restaurant. We took mouthfuls of rice with dal, crunched on the scrumptious alu bhaja, lapped up the spicy mushroom curry and let each fried prawn roll over and over our taste buds so we could savour the taste for as long as possible. After an eight-hours-long road journey from Nandankanan, including a break for a tasty dinner at New Bengal Dhaba in Kolaghat, we reached Kolkata at 11:30 PM, heady with the spell of the enchanting trip.