Its been a while, and i guess i’m typing this now because i have other work that needs my attention. Nonetheless, will make this brief and share some snippets. This one’s mostly a couple of videos and an interesting map.

First, the Indian Ocean Dipole has blessed us with timely monsoons in Kolkata this year. There’s predictions that the total average precipitation will be in the normal range — but how it is distributed (spatial and time wise) is yet to be seen. But here’s what it looks like at the moment (been trying to edit one short video a day):

While its pouring rain here, in other parts of India like Baghjan, Assam, we’ve had a different kind of problem. An oil well situated very close (uncomfortably close) to the Dibru Saikhowa National Park and Maguri Motapung Beel (a wetland of significance), first started spilling and then blew up. Its a lot to write, so we made a short 4 minute video to explain it.

Choose to see it / ignore it, but it really reflects on our existing environmental safeguards at a time when they’re being further diluted. Video:

Here’s an interesting map — i do browse through a lot of maps for inspiration/learning — and this one popped up about how maps can be used for propaganda. I’m obviously not taking any sides here, by putting this map, but its a fabulous example. Map:

The map is part of a propaganda from Germany, during WWII, where it tries to portray the hypocrisy of allied powers that were attempting to paint Germany as an aggressor. I’m not sure whether this was before the invasion of Germany and the discovery of the evil acts of the Nazis, but it does lend perspective — especially appealing to those who have been erstwhile colonies.

Edit:

My friend Prateek Kohli has added some corrections / perspective on the above map which I think is worth adding here. Please read. Thanks for correcting me Prateek. All the newly inserted text is italicised.

But I think this is more in context of the WW1 era, and must be before the rise of Hitler.

1. They use red colour in the map, but not for Russia, which turned communist in 1918.

2. As soon as Lenin came to power, most of the colonies of Russian empire (Poland and the rest of eastern Europe) were freed/given away out of necessity.

3. Name of the map : What would remain of the entente. Entente should be the Triple entente (alliance) of UK, France and Russia.

And man the map is right. Problems started when Germany was not allowed to control Morocco, and thus the route to the Atlantic for Africa's right to self-govern, and then France just took Morocco with their tacit approval.

It does say a lot about maps and what all they could be made to say, and leaves us with the choice of deducing, which can be done only if we slow down.

Having mentioned maps and deductions, leaving you with another map — this with a list of relief efforts in Bengal. We were recently hit by Cyclone Amphan, the strongest such event in many centuries. Please see:

Thanks for reading. Until the next burst of inspiration fuelled by pending work.

There’s so much one can say about the times that we’re currently going through, and especially in India, where the horrors of mismanagement and apathy are unending. But what I’d like to stress on is something that has been spoken about often lately — this broken system isn’t a new phenomenon, it’s just the revealing of it that is making it appear so stark.

But why then did we not see this earlier?

We often see flowers in bloom — they are attractive (meant to be so by design, how else will the bees and birds arrive?) and we’re awed at its beauty. But we often miss or don’t notice the whole process of a flower bloom.

The trees sometime shed their leaves, sometimes don’t. Then buds appear, often as small globules — slowly doing magic inside, working on a wondrous design — and then one day burst through in many colours. A process of evolution.

The story doesn’t end there though. The flowers are followed by fruits — we do see the ones we like, the ones we can consume — like the popular mangoes and guavas and jamuns that we see commonly in this part of the world. But all fruits don’t get the same attention, not by us at least. This isn’t the end either, but will suffice for this post.

There is no message here of who is or what is this fruit, flower or seed, but only a message of pause. If only we choose to pause, put on hold this unstopping stream of information and products that we’re being choked with — all vying for our attention — we will see.

We will see the wonders and we will see broken systems too.

I sometimes use origami to pause, other times walking. Some times i look at trees. Your way of pausing can be different from mine. Of course it will be. I’d love to hear what you choose to pause.

Independent thought is an act of rebellion today. So pause, and let thoughts arise.

In the meanwhile, we’re running a fundraiser to raise money for fishing communities affected by the current crisis. We’re offering photo prints on archival paper in exchange of money — all net proceeds go to fishing communities through field organisations. I’m offering 3 of my photos on sale, you can find all the photos or make purchases through this link: https://www.instamojo.com/fotosforacause/

These are my photos that I’m offering as part of the fund raiser. Do consider getting a 24" X 18" print for yourself, helping raise funds. Or maybe just share it ahead. Happy to answer questions about this, email me at asid@veditum.org

Since i talked about pausing and trees, here’s some reading/watching for you:

1. https://www.thehindubusinessline.com/blink/shoot/painting-the-town-red-with-the-silk-cotton-tree/article31357563.ece/photo/1/
2. https://fstoppers.com/documentary/drone-disguised-hummingbird-captures-incredible-footage-monarch-butterfly-swarm-480714

Thanks for reading. More in the next post!

It has been an interesting time in Kolkata, at least as far as the weather is concerned. Doesn’t feel like summer yet. But I fear this might be the last week that we have this weather. The Kalbaisakhis — or Nor’westers are here, and the temperature is at a pleasant maximum of 28ºC, with a decent wind blowing through the day.

To think that this phenomenon, like almost every other weather phenomenon, is a result of temperature and pressure differences over vast areas, makes one think of all the interconnectedness that we usually overlook. It has also defined agriculture patterns in the regions that it passes through but also brings desturction to some (read more here and here).

How’s the weather where you are?

Some interesting things i’ve read today:

1. The value of whales in our climate cycles. Just fabulous! — https://chinadialogueocean.net/13512-priceless-poo-the-global-cooling-effect-of-whales/
2. Recipes to Persian Omelletes! — http://www.persianfoodtours.com/persian-omelette-recipes/
3. This article from Paul Salpoek’s Out of Eden Walk. A last post from the stretch of walk in India, contributions by different walking partners, including myself. Do read — https://www.nationalgeographic.org/projects/out-of-eden-walk/articles/2020-04-across-india/
4. I had also recently watched the film ‘Free Solo’ and had my mind blown. I encourage you to find it and watch it, it is all sorts of crazy. Trailer below:

More in the next post. Just starting to get a hang of this.

It has been a while. I’ve been wondering. And this has happened before too. The question is, can i keep doing it?

I feel a compulsive need to share, a need to tell others about something interesting or amazing that I’ve read. Since the medium of social media is easy to go to, that’s where its all been going. But honestly, it isn’t helping me keep a good track of what all I’m reading myself. Lets give this a try!

The past week

22nd April was World Earth Day, and i was hoping to stitch together a short video from my recent walks, but had to eventually suffice with this old video that I had put together in 2017. I kinda still like it.

How about you? Did you read anything interesting related to Earth Day? With the current situation providing an unexpected yet temporary breather to the environment, there were a lot of thoughts on how this might be a good time to re-imagine our relationship with nature.

The Indian Government and the currently serving ministers however, have different plans. The day after the 22nd, they assembled via video conference to discuss the prospects of approving the Dibang Valley Projects, just one of which would lead to the destruction of over 2.7 lakh trees and the incredible bio-diversity that lies there. Read more on this link.

I generally use my down time to share old pictures from my walks and field work (of which there are plenty!). But thinking particularly about our farmers who were first unable to harvest their crops in time and are now facing market pressures. Low demand and non availability of storage forces them to sell at whatever rates they can get.

In the next update i’ll share with you some twitter handles to follow that can tell you more about the situation on ground in relation to agriculture in India. In the meanwhile here’s an initiative to support farmers with single term zero interest loans to tide over the crisis, make an investment if you can. Link — http://rangde.in/lifeline

Some reading/watching

Just sharing some interesting reading that I’ve come across in the past week. These are in no particular order. Hope you enjoy them!

1. https://www.india-seminar.com/2010/613/613_emmanuel_theophilus.htm — A river for now, by Emmaneul Theophilus
2. https://www.india-seminar.com/2019/723/723_arati_kumar_rao.htm — Anthropocene and the River, by Arati Kumar Rao
3. https://dirtbagdiaries.com/mileposts-greater-sum-parts/ — This old episode of Dirtbag Diaries — a podcast — which interviews photographer Pete McBride and his partners who walked the length of the Colorado, all through the Grand Canyon.
4. I was finally able to watch the documentary DamNation, which is now streaming free, on YouTube.

I hope you enjoy what i’ve shared here. Will share some more thoughts tomorrow, or day after. Please do leave comments with any interesting reading/watching that you’ve come across recently.

Till then, enjoy this photograph of a magnificent sunset on the Ken River.

A river is not a pipeline or canal. It has its own behaviour, leaving imprints as it shifts space over time, shifts sediments over space, warping the very idea of space in an organic fashion — dismantling political boundaries. Working on a mathematical model designed by nature, encompassing a world within while nourishing a world without. It is the central line of a Möbius strip called the water cycle. A river is not a pipeline, and here is just one example of why:

“We met Mahendra on a river island — formed recently by the river’s deposition of sediment and topped off with a 6 inch layer of fine sand. He was busy in his farm tending to tomato plants, enjoying himself immensely. After all, he had to wait a long time to be able to do this.

Behaving exactly like rivers do, about 20 years ago, the river decided to shift its course Northwards, engulfing Mahendra’s farms & forcing him to engage in manual labour work for sustenance. Now on unstable ground, he started trading bananas from other people’s farms to make a living. For a decade and a half this continued, but then something changed.

The river made a revelation for Mahendra & other farmers, a Southward shift. For some others, they were to now look up alternative jobs. Mahendra has returned to his land, working to make new memories on what was once old, yet understood to be ephemeral. He along with Shambhu, who was working on a small piece of land nearby, invited us to come back in a couple of months to enjoy the harvest. It was time for us to leave, walking back almost in disbelief on this temporal patch of land.

We saw Shambhu now working on his small patch of land, waiting patiently for the river to reveal yet again — his land over which it gently still flows.”

There is a world within the river, it is not a pipeline.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The river here is part of the Vikramshila Gangetic Dolphin Sanctuary — one of the last few abodes of the endangered Ganges Dolphin. These creatures are now threatened by another anthropogenic proposal — the mindless waterways project that rejects environmental concerns. Read more about that here & a status update here.

This visit was while walking with Paul Salopek on the Out of Eden Walk, and I invite you to read his piece about this place, truly magical — https://www.nationalgeographic.org/projects/out-of-eden-walk/articles/2019-08-lost-river

Starting to share images from Bihar, a part of the state that i had not seen before walking across this particular stretch with Paul Salopek — on the Out of Eden Walk.

Paul recently tweeted a video of rice being thrashed, marking a start to his stories from the Eden Walk east of Bodh Gaya, Bihar.

Paul Salopek on Twitter

Rice music. Bihar, #India. #EdenWalk https://t.co/AM4ahWn8PG

I accompanied him for a few kilometres through this stretch, so i’ll try and keep up the pace and post my images from the vicinity of his posts.

With this, will begin regularly sharing my images here on this blog, as a better way of viewing as compared to social media (and outside of it). Though i will continue to cross-post, for that today is the curse of the medium.

You should follow Paul and Out of Eden Walk for some amazing story telling. Could also subscribe to their newsletter. Follow this blog for more visuals and stories from walking across India (been doing that for a few years now).

Let me know what you think. Cheers!

What happens when a ‘road worker’ has to protect car tyres from hot tar on freshly laid roads? Sharing some thoughts, documented and discussed while walking across Bundelkhand with Paul Salopek while the global trail of the Out of Eden Walk.

Traffic cannot be stopped, the world is in a rush, and diversions are temporary. From that small window of time where the road is partially cordoned off for repairs, an interesting visual appears at some places. A collaborative exercise in accidental art, and an opportunity to slow down to think — about the ephemeral nature of the road, the artwork, and life itself.

Torn highways are patched up with small rectangular bandages, trying to keep in place a system that is continuously under assault. These patches of hot tar & aggregates are covered by the workers with grasses and leaves. Sourced supposedly on the basis of proximity, these range from paddy stalk to grasses to cassia and palash leaves. Following a few run-overs by the road-roller, all traffic is invited to participate in this ‘pressing exercise’.

The results are often extra-ordinary (see full series here: https://twitter.com/i/moments/1070144955228790784).

What first appeared to us as an attempt to save car tyres from hot tar, has since taken a different position in my mental universe of retrospect. Maybe the road worker didn’t care as much about the car tyres, maybe it was only about saving the product of their labour — the freshly laid patches of road.

These road patches however (and therefore this art) find their genesis in a context that is deeply disturbing. Built to serve a certain upper capacity of vehicular weight, these roads quickly lose structure when subjected to overloaded vehicles.

In this case, it was the excessive number of overloaded trucks transporting illegally mined river sand across and out of this riverine landscape (map below shows the location of a few of these patches on roads or transverse transects to these rivers). Hence making necessary this constant repair and patch work.

Part of a larger problem of unsustainable river sand extraction across the world, these activities ranging from riverbed destruction to overloaded sand trucks have direct and indirect effects on all parts of society. Habitat loss for wildlife, water in-security, revenue loss at all levels of governance, corruption and wastage of taxpayer’s money, are a few significant markers in a pool of many.

Illegal sand mining activities continue to thrive under the patronage of the powers that be, while we lose officers who attempt to bring this mafia to account. Driven by an increasing demand for construction in a fast modernising country like India, the curve seems poised to continue the upward trend.

Given the cyclic nature of this activity, like the effects of climate change, it is imperative that we soon find solutions on both the supply and demand side. What will it take to ensure sustainable sand mining, to bring the mafias to account, for us to slow down?

Additional text from a conversation with Omair about this. Here’s his rather incisive and beautiful response:

“It is an interesting idea, and an interesting read, though a little short, and I would add that the quality of initial road work is one of the reasons why the roads crumble so quickly.

Between corruption and criminality the road art of patchwork tar appears through the work of labourers being paid a pittance. Like the sharp, bony bodies of those being broken under this system, there is a cruel beauty there, the damage we inflict on the physical bodies of the poor, and the physical terrain around us. It is, oddly, not always ugly.”

If thoughts and prayers are all it takes to change things, River Ganga or Ma Ganga as we call it, should be the cleanest river in the world today. Do we think that Prof. G.D. Agarwal a.k.a Swami Sanand’s soul will attain peace through our thoughts and prayers?

Even when he transcended into a new world, Swami Sanand, an ascetic, lived a life in the midst of action. He displayed perseverance and dedication beyond what his physical form allowed. At the time of his passing, the 87 year old Professor from IIT Kanpur turned Swami had been fasting for 111 days.

In a discussion with Manoj Mishra ji a few days ago, hoping to learn from the #MeToo movement, we were wondering what would it take for us to bring to life the voice of the river, to ask for its own rights. It is anyone’s guess where that discussion stands, given that a man who had dedicated his life to amplify the increasingly feeble voice of the river, has been murdered by the state through their apathy towards the environment and people’s voices. I am sure that the state will find a way to absolve itself of responsibility, and possibly even ways to appropriate the life and death of Swami Sanand to its own political cause.

My personal appeal is this: If we claim to be moved by the death of Prof. Agarwal, our claims need to move beyond the realms of feelings and into the field of action. And these actions can have only one allegiance, which is a healthy state of India’s rivers (and by extrapolation, India’s environment). We cannot follow the footsteps of the state, which does not have space for the environment or conversations.

Our acknowledgement of Prof. Agarwal’s efforts is where the story begins. Unless we identify and hold accountable successive governments for their inability to govern and clear lack of intent towards solving problems & fulfilling promises, is there really a point to this all? From apathy to active destruction of the environment today, our governments, and then all of us, need to accept responsibility. We are all complicit in the murder of Prof. Agarwal, River Ganga and all of India’s environment & environmental rights.

I take a resolve, that at least for the next 11 years, i will walk a minimum 111kms each year, along a river to document and share its story — in an attempt to protect it. Inviting you to walk with me or take your own resolve, but this conversation goes nowhere without action. Our action is what will help Swami Sanand’s soul gain peace, not words.

If you have questions, please write to me at asid@veditum.org or leave your comments below.

For your reading (and viewing) on this topic by others:

1. https://sandrp.in/2018/10/11/tribute-to-late-swami-sandand-who-died-for-the-cause-of-ganga-river/
2. http://indiaclimatedialogue.net/2018/10/11/ganga-loses-its-steadfast-champion-in-gd-agarwal/
3. https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10155795014982555&set=a.95313142554&type=3&theater
4. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vjcc4UGLkhQ
5. https://thewire.in/environment/environmentalist-gd-agarwal-fast-unto-death-gives-up-water-ganga

The newer parts of the city outside these walls do not match up to this description. Strangely, even the old city is now being painted a shade of orange, something that anyone with even a slight perception of colours will be able to figure out.

However, in these visits from January to June, it was interesting to note what a city could tell you just by looking at things hanging from trees. While some elements represent constants, others are seasonal. Here’s a few images.

Of constants. A spare tyre hanging from the tree over a mechanic’s workshop.

Of variables. The moon peaking through the canopy while flowers hang low from a sausage tree / Kigelia Africana.

Of festivals. Early January, the city was preparing to celebrate Makar Sankranti. A lost / cut kite hangs from a tree on the hill.

Of seasons. End June, Fresh cassia javanica flowers on the tree as the monsoons arrive.

I’m quite sad at not having been able to include a political banner on a tree in this collection. Maybe i will, when putting pictures from some other city.

Tell me what you see around you. Hanging on trees or otherwise.

You can find more of my pictures on twitter at @sidagarwal and on instagram at @dreamersid.

Sitting in the middle of a vast farm tract while on this long walk along the Ganga, I registered a journal entry that read: ‘Opportunities for work, stories and photographs are waiting everywhere, but these will not come to you on their own. You can either wait to stumble upon an accident that is to happen, or you can make these accidents happen; the choice is completely up to you’, speaking to myself while trying to decide my immediate course of action. My choice, though, would only affect the type of story that I would encounter and not the probability of encountering one.

Every night spent in the outdoors was an open invitation to the mosquitoes for a party. We would stay up till late at night dancing with each other but once exhausted I would just lie on my sleeping mat or the cot provided by the villagers, staring into the night sky trying to identify stars and constellations while drenched in sweat because of the weather. It takes special skills to fall asleep in these conditions, but combined with the exhaustion of many kilometres of walking and carrying my own luggage it proved a little bit easier for me. The time before dawn would bring some breeze, making the last few hours of sleep peaceful and re-energising.

The concept of private space isn’t very real, especially if you’re an outsider sleeping in the open in a village in the middle of nowhere. Sleeping beyond an hour from dawn would mean being greeted by curious eyes and young giggling kids, fascinated by my facial hair and my ruck sack - mystical walking stick combo. Accompanied by the overpowering smell of cattle dung and bellowing sounds, it made me shift from lazy to wide alert in the matter of a few seconds, while not forgetting to always smile back at the surrounding company. Curiosity isn’t a trait to frown upon, especially when that’s what took me there in the first place.

Depending upon the relationships forged the previous evening, it would take anywhere between a half hour to a half dozen before I could see myself moving out of the village, the luxury of time not on my side. At every step I would internally debate the possibility of reaching a discussion relevant to my field of interest — water — but sometimes I would just take a plunge in the opposite direction being the romantic at heart that I am. Often starting on an empty stomach, I would judge directions from the river’s flow, and if that wasn’t available then use my reliable compass to start moving upstream to more accidents and interactions.

Early mornings were when I would comfortably cover distances, taking advantage of the low sun and the general sense of camaraderie and goodwill among people in those early hours. I’ve never been a tea person but in the duration of this walk I succumbed to the habit, after incessant number of offers that poured in throughout the day. Served with a small portion of fried Indian snacks, smokes were always offered, both bidis (hand-rolled tobacco), and cannabis or ganja in chillum (earthen pipe). Conversation flowed freely over chai and samosa, as small gatherings formed around me, with questions pointing towards the rarity of spotting city folks in these areas; there was ‘nothing to see here’ after all. These conversations would often continue for hours, but the rising heat in the air sent reminders that I should continue with the walk, the afternoon heat in the plains being unforgiving.

The beautiful thing about being in a place that does not have an existing trail is that it sometimes sends you in the wrong direction, pugdundees vanish into nothingness, and you’re left alone to either turn around and retrace your path, or make a new trail through farmlands and forests, or just sit by the banks waiting for a farmer or fisherman to come by and help. It all definitely sounds exciting; that rush of adrenaline for adventure, the joy of defining a new path, the mental image of retelling the story in future enlarging that bubble of vanity within me, but there’s fear too, sometimes for life itself. The fear of poisonous animals, of bandits and robbers, of the land giving away while walking by the banks, and sometimes of losing consciousness because of hunger and dehydration.

My past experiences of cycling and walking across the country had deflated the balloons of fear, reinforced trust in people, and instituted a strong belief of mind over body, where I could push my body beyond what it thought was possible. So I would continue, treading constantly in the only direction I had to: forward. This is not to say that I was unaware of things that could go wrong, or that I had the solution for every possible outcome, but an adventure is never meant to work like clockwork, and the potential for improvisation is what makes one learn from the experience.

Walking through huge open fields, mahua and mango orchards, forests and grasslands, I would suddenly encounter a lone farmer or a group of children playing, or shepherds and cattle herders, each group as surprised to see me there as the other. One of the most common remarks in these situations — that is if a conversation happened at all, because children generally ran away and females would refuse to communicate — was that it was strange to see an Indian man who is not a sadhu undertake a task such as this. I would hear this everyday, for locals have seen plenty of foreigners pass through these areas attempting Herculean tasks, some on foot or bikes, and some paddling or rowing on the river, but rarely the average Indian. This would send a rush through my body, a boost to my ego, probably, but the joy of being one of the few explorers who have cared to take this route excited me.

People would often not believe that I’ve had my share of food, and then insist that I accept their offer for lunch, often ensuring I walk with them till their village and be audience to their stories. I would sometimes refuse even when on an empty stomach in order to not appear greedy, but they had their way of figuring it out, and would drag me with them anyway. They would say with utmost sincerity that it was their duty to ensure I was properly fed, and this was where the oft repeated Indian saying of ‘Atithi Devo Bhava’ (Guest is God) was truly played out. Surely the religious aspect of walking along the Goddess Ganga played a healthy part in these offers, but that does not give me the right to take away the credit that they deserve. Long conversations ensued, often around the topic of water and other social and local issues, deeply interconnected and showing trends over distances when I would study them later. Goodbyes here would generally be in the form of directions to the next village, offerings of farm fresh vegetables for the route or the invitation to rest a little longer, sometimes a request to stay on for a few days with them and just talk.

Locals shared stories of the many saints that traversed this route in search of salvation, to meditate by the banks, and of those who ended up creating small groups of followers in these places. Our country is dotted with legends and cults, so many that it would require extensive study to identify and document them all. Many would ask me, “What’s in it for you? Do you have a secret mantra for me?” and I would often not have an answer to give them, because my honest answers usually don’t make much sense to most people. It was slowly through the medium of this walk that the realisation dawned upon me that this journey, like many others in the past, was as much about me as it was about others, a fact I couldn’t deny, no matter how much I tried.

Dragging myself through the heat under the high afternoon sun I would have to choose between possibilities of taking the uneven unknown forest — farmland terrain by the banks, the brick-tar road at a little distance and the highway 5km away. It was in this phase one day that I made the journal entry that is mentioned at the start, following which I took the uncertain path and later spent that night under the stars with a gorgeous view of the flood plains.

As evening approached, I would begin to look for a suitable place to halt. Not carrying any camping equipment I relied completely on people’s grace to survive, a decision that usually paid off. It would be a bargain every day, between food and security, and the possibility of covering a few more kilometres. But there was no surety of finding a place, so I took the bargain on some days and played it safe at other times, each choice awarding me a new story.

Excited conversations that would start with the need for details would turn serious and sometimes funny, connections being forged in the fires of a serendipitous meeting that lent a mystical flavor to the food prepared for dinner. By the time I had spent a couple of months on the field, I had been spoilt for farm fresh vegetables and dairy. When I finally lay down to sleep, the rendezvous would start again, the mosquitoes and their stings, the cattle and their bellowing sounds, the moon and new dreams.

Experiences shared are compilation of notes from walking along the Indian rivers Ganga & Ken. You can read more about the walks at www.veditum.org