The Hindu Business Line : Kutch capers

Dwarka lies on the extreme western tip of the Kathiawar peninsula. It is also known as Dvaravati, the mythical kingdom where Lord Krishna is believed to have lived for over three decades after the Mahabharata. According to Vishnu Purana, this coastal city was submerged by the sea right after the death of Lord Krishna.

The discovery of an archaeological site under the sea near here and reference in an inscription dated 574 A.D. in the Palitana plates of Samanta Simhaditya give credence to the myth.

Be that as it may, there is a decided aura of sanctity about the town. Innumerable temples dot its shores, the foremost among them the exquisite Jagatmandir, whose tall spires dominate the skyline. Revered as a place of pilgrimage since ancient times,

it was in Dwarka that Mira Bai — the inveterate Krishna bhakt — spent the latter years of her life in utter devotion to her Lord. As one of the four peethas, it is in its hordes of pilgrims that we glimpse a faith, deep as the waters that surround it.

There's peace in the rows of ghats — their steps washed by the waves and in the evening aarti that resonates through the sacred hallway out into the courtyard and the streets.

Exploring the islands nearby

Older, it is believed, is Bet Dwarka, perhaps connected to the mainland long ago. Separated by a narrow arm of the sea today, we reach the port of Okha to catch the ferry that gets us across.

A ride on a chhakra — the ubiquitous motorcycle turned public carrier — takes us to the eastern tip from where we get onto a motorised skiff to explore the islands at the mouth of the gulf. Shoals of white jellyfish float beside us as we move along. Rising like small hillocks, these islands are unique.

Devoid of human habitation they are home to gulls, terns and storks that roost here in absolute tranquillity. We visit one that's just fossilised sea creatures, each shell petrified into stone. At another, crystal clear waters harbour in their shallow depths colonies of mother-of-pearl, their flower-like arrangement perfect.

Our halt for the night is a camp on a sand bar that stretches finger-like into the sea. We sit by its edge, watching dolphins and porpoises at play in the aquamarine waters that blend into the horizon.

The setting sun sets the sky aflame; it's almost sublime and perhaps the most spectacular sunset I have witnessed. Our huts for the night, simple enclosures, of gunny sacking held together by bamboo hold nothing within; as we settle into our sleeping bags, we watch the stars through the loosely knit jute cloth. We are secure, yet open to the skies. It's an incredible feeling.

Wealth of marine life

It's from Jamnagar that we set off for the Pirotan Island Marine National Park, the only one of its kind in India, and a repository of live coral. Pirotan is one of the 42 islands in the 458-sq-km Marine Sanctuary. It is also the only island open to visitors. It's older name, Pir Jo Thaan, means the place of the holy saint. The dargah here, that of a saint, is sacrosanct and visited by many each year.

The journey, we find, is an adventure in itself. Imperative is the timing, for not only is the island accessible only at high tide, even getting into the boat is. We are at Bedi Port much before the waters begin to surge in. Anchored at the canal, the boat stands almost at the bottom, impossible to reach and impossible to move. As the tide comes in, it bobs to the top and we negotiate the narrow steps to it. Settled into the hull, we sail past huge barges to steer ourselves into a network of creeks. We snake along the placid waterways fringed with luxuriant growth of mangroves that are home to a host of avian life — ibises and spoonbills, majestic painted storks and hordes of flamingos.

About an hour later, the mouth of the creek widens and we are thrust into the open sea, the breakers buffeting our boat. The sheer vastness of the open waters overawes us and we clutch on to our seats. A few green turtles flap by, as do shoals of fish. What we'd like to see is a dugong, that unique sea mammal that's survived since dinosaur days.

Once prolific here, it is now visible occasionally. We peer around to get a peek of the creature, but it eludes us.

There's a sigh of relief as strips of white enclosing a thin line of green with a matchstick-like pole become visible in the distance.

A little while later they metamorphose into sandy beaches enclosing a patch of land with a tall lighthouse in the centre. Gulls begin to hover over us as we are carried along the rough waters to anchor by the boundary wall of the lighthouse.

Alighting on the slippery parapet is tricky business. The dargah, the only other structure on the island, is just a short walk away, hidden among the grasses and bushes.

It is here that we meet, perhaps, the island's oldest inhabitant. No one who comes here gets away without visiting `mausi' who promises us a hot meal, but with a clause — that her nephew fish couple of pearl spots. Eventually the fish are made available, but only at dawn the next day! The crisp, masala-laden chunks are definitely not a breakfast treat, but we don't disappoint as she has kept to her word.

It's early evening and the tide begins to recede. Soon our boat is a good 15 ft below on the wet sands.

The seabed is visible more than a kilometre away and we can safely walk on it. In the distance flocks of puffin stand like dots, busily pecking, and hordes of stints wade gingerly. There are herons and egrets, avocets, cormorants... more birds than the eye can take in.

Our guide — a venerable veteran — takes us far out till we are in knee-deep water, where we gaze down at the immense wealth in the sea. Under the glassy surface are huge clumps of brain coral, sponge coral and tentacle-like lengths of finger coral, and darting among them schools of puffer fish. Starfish stick to the bottom, octopus dart by us squirting shots of indigo, and among the seaweed sea horses bobble up and down standing upright. The wealth of marine life we have been privy too is simply mind-boggling!

As darkness falls we wind our way back to lie at the foot of the lighthouse under a canopy of million twinkling lights. In the silence we can only hear the swish of the waves... And we're off at dawn — away with the tide.

The next morning before break of day we drive to Khijadiya — the bird sanctuary 16 km away from Jamnagar. It's alive with an orchestration of a thousand sounds.

Soon light unveils the shadowed landscape and from among the rushes we look skywards to see waves upon waves of demoiselle cranes fly past. It's a befitting finale.

Pictures by the author

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