People as amazing as the corals

Life in Lakshadweep is simply out of this world.

On October 31, we woke up early at around 4am to watch the sunrise from MV Lagoons’ deck. It was dark though the moon was right above us. Fishing vessels in the distance still had their lights on. The ship was leaving a trail of white froth behind, and soon in the same direction the sun began its ascent.

In the morning light, the dark blue of the sea became clearer and tuna started leaping above the surface of the water signalling that we were closing in on the archipelago of Lakshadweep. The sun here in the morning was red, perfectly round like a typical evening view back home in Kerala.

The day before, while boarding, I met Ishan, a boy from Androth in the ship’s cabin. ‘Mudi Hara…’ he said in Jeseri pointing towards my hair, which he himself translated, ‘hair, super!’ His father soon struck a conversation with me. Learning that I am a journalist, the man offered me a crash course on the islands. Ishan’s family gave me a glimpse of the kindness that the islanders are famous for, and which I would soon experience first-hand.

The ship anchored in the deep blue sea and the light blue lagoons around Kavaratti could be seen distinctively from the ship with a strip of green in the backdrop. We were taken ashore in a boat as the ship couldn’t go closer due to lack of enough depth.

The island is similar to Kerala, except for the silver sand and the light blue sea. As for the people, well… you go there as a tourist but you don’t feel like one. Just anyone could invite you into their homes anytime and offer you a meal, that’s how it is there. Sans internet connectivity, chai time seemed to be the favourite leisure activity of the islanders as the tea shops are always full. Some can be seen repeating their tea order while at least half a dozen snacks are served per person.

“Due to prohibition, liquor is not available. Some of the kids do manage to get a bottle or two, paying exorbitant amounts, but drinking is a hard thing to do in the islands. We do smoke and chew pan though,” one islander said. At around midnight, we were heading for a restaurant when I noticed a cubicle by the road. A carrom board was kept in the middle underneath a CFL lamp and a youth was readying to flick his finger. Groups playing carroms, ludo, cards or even simply having conversations on the beach is a common sight here late into the night.

Women clad in hijab can be seen walking around fearlessly. A visit to the local jail was a pleasant surprise, as the guard put his hand through the counter of the gate to greet me. He told me that he was the only guard for the entire prison. A couple of ‘culprits’ booked for minor scuffles occupied the cells! “We register a maximum of one or two cases per month,” said the sleepy policeman at the station near the jail.

Almost everyone here follows Islam. While the lack of a movie theatre can be attributed to belief, the islanders seemed less conservative when it comes to other freedoms – for instance, I even saw a girl clad in hijab parasailing during an aquatic show. The pace of life in the islands, like that of the policeman, is slow and they don’t want to change it either. “We are happy with our pace. Our ancestors have lived here when there were no ships connecting us to the mainland like today. It is our homeland and we love it here,” says Tariq Anwar, an Androth native.

Another distinguishing feature of Lakshadweep is that most islands have no dogs or snakes on them. Kavaratti doesn’t even have crows, the islanders say. “It is believed that a saintly thangal was offended by the crows and he cursed them, preventing them from surviving in Kavaratti. There is also a myth that the women in Kavaratti don’t experience pain at childbirth due to the blessings of the thangal,” says Qureshi, a Kavaratti native.

While the islands are serene and beautiful, the real beauty of Lakshadweep is underneath the waters around it. Watching the underwater life in the lagoons of Lakshadweep was the most exciting 20 minutes of our four-day sojourn in the coral paradise.

Groups of fish, blue, green and yellow among other colours, rushed past, as the scuba trainer pushed me towards another shoal of fish. Sea weeds and cucumbers were a delight to the eyes. However, the most intriguing was the Christmas Tree worms. The worms on the coral reef retracted into their protective pouches every time I snapped my finger near it. The experience was out of this world.

The writer travelled to Lakshadweep at the invitation of the islands’ administration