The Hindu Business Line : Sea forts in the sun

Sasan Gir is wrapped in late-evening smog, and whiffs of wood smoke waft through the air. As visibility is low, we stop at a roadside chaiwala and sit on charpoy, dipping biscuits in tea till the dusk deepens and stars appear in the sky. Later, as we move towards our jungle lodge, sounds from the forest that stands silhouetted keep us silenced — an owl’s hoot, the staccato barking of deer, a movement in the hedges, a flap of wings on the branches high above and the cicadas making music. We are in a tent camp by the side of a rivulet that rushes over boulders. Woken by a choir of birdsong, we walk the trail by the stream to spot coots, black ibises, painted sandgrouse, coppersmith barbets, and rufus treepies and a paradise flycatcher.

In the forest, the semul is clothed in large red buds, and amidst the teak and acacia, karanj and tendu stands the regal banyan. Late afternoon, we hit the tracks deep in the jungle to glimpse the big cat. We spot a host of other creatures that inhabit Gir such as nilgai, wild boar, plenty of deer — sambar, chital, chinkara and chowsingha — jackals slinking by, a leopard and a hyena. And as shadows begin to fall, we do see what we’ve really come here for — a lioness! She stands regally in a clearing.

By the coast

Diu glimmers in the sun, its waters bright blue, the sands golden and fishing boats languidly reposing as in some vivid canvas. The town is tiny, dotted with stately structures from a bygone era. There’s Fortum Do Mar, the sea fort, sitting like a huge ship, just one nautical mile away from the jetty. According to legend, it was once connected to the coast by an undersea tunnel. Lit in multicoloured hues at night, it shines like some exotic jewel, along with other architectural remnants from Portuguese times.

Then there are Diu’s churches — beautiful St. Paul’s in pristine white with its stucco ceiling, some outstanding wooden carvings and paintings; St. Thomas Church, which is now a museum; and the Church of St. Francis.

Diu has beaches that open wide to the Arabian Sea — Nagoa, horseshoe shaped with its clutch of hokka palms first brought here by the Portuguese and a fascinating shell museum run by an old sea hand, serene Ahmedpur-Mandvi, Chaktirath and Jallandar where one can sit among the rocks to view a marvellous sunset.

The Diu Fort, replete with moat, subterranean passageways, canons and lighthouse, commands an imposing view from the sea. A stronghold that once guarded this small island, it still stands majestic, 500 years of history ensconced within its ramparts.

But it’s the Naida Caves that is the most fascinating. Fending off the shrubbery that almost conceals the narrow path is an opening that leads down to a massive expanse of hewn caves. As I walk through them, tree roots intertwined on the walls or simply in freefall from above, sunlight peeking through crevices, I wonder what these haunting hollows were actually all about. Were they pirates’ hiding places, a storehouse for smuggled goods, ammunition storage points for rebels, or just mines now abandoned. No one is able to answer these questions. They are fascinating, nonetheless.

A hallowed temple

Meera Joshi

Somnath Temple in western Gujarat.

At Somnath, the waves splash thunderously. They pound on the boundary wall of the temple rising up in foam to bow backwards and join the sea once more. At the temple gates stand hundreds of pilgrims, waiting to catch a glimpse of the deity. The original shrine is believed to have been constructed by the Vallabhi kings around 480-767 A.D.

Perhaps no other temple has so much of history woven into its past — the ignominy of being plundered and the glory of being restored time and again. Resurrected finally just after independence, it remains a hallowed and, as is often said, an eternal shrine.

Related Stories:
Gir lions squeeze out an existence