The train had barely chugged into a station before impatient passengers clamoured on board. The hurrying groups came to a halt at the sight of a pickaxe leaning against a window of the compartment. Their gaze quickly shifted to the two unlikely owners of the farm equipment — 24-year-old filmmaker Anthony Karbari and his friend Hari Chakyar. Lugging around this farmer’s tool, the duo travelled the length and breadth of the country (35 states and union territories), planting saplings and educating students about the environment as part of the ‘Project 35 trees’. Side by side, their camera captured the experience for a documentary, also called Project 35 Trees, that released this Friday, exactly two years after they first set out on the journey.

Back then, setting out from Mumbai on what was meant to be a four-month journey, Karbari had been clueless but hopeful. He and Chakyar had raised around ₹2 lakh from friends, colleagues, relatives, social networks and a crowd-funding campaign on Wishberry.

Road less travelled

“Initially, our budget was around ₹5 lakh, but we managed with two. We didn’t waste money on hotels and flights, and tried to find people to host us and used public transport. This also gave us a first-hand taste of local cuisine and culture,” says Karbari.

Off-roading for 16 hours at a stretch in Aizwal, staying in gurudwaras in Chandigarh, sampling caterpillar fries in Kohima or even grossly miscalculating the distance to North Andaman Island — Karbari has a fund of stories to share. “When heading to Diglipur (300km from Port Blair), where a college professor had agreed to host us, we had to change two ferries to cross channels. We never thought that those dots in the Bay of Bengal could be so far off,” he says with a laugh. It took them about 12 hours to arrive, as the ATR (Andaman Trunk Road) passes through dense forests and rocky terrain. “Night travel to Diglipur is prohibited as the ATR runs close to the protected area inhabited by the Jarawa community.” Crossing this stretch requires a local permit and no stops were allowed on the way. “Our car moved in a convoy with many others. Each vehicle had a guard to prevent commuters from interacting with the Jarawas,” he says. The Protection of Aboriginal Tribes Regulation, 1956, strictly prohibits contacting, photographing or interacting with the Jarawas.

Friends with benefits

Despite the arduous journey and the struggle to make do with limited means, Karbari and Chakyar received ready help from locals everywhere who offered everything from sourcing saplings to tying up with hosts and schools. On Diwali day, however, the duo found themselves in a trying situation in Agra. Most schools and other establishments were shut, and they had nowhere to plant their saplings. Dejected, they were listlessly checking online for some leads when help suddenly arrived from a least expected quarter. “Manish, our rickshawalla, offered to plant the saplings at his home,” says Karbari. At a small village on the outskirts they met Manish’s family members, who promptly offered a fine spot for the saplings and promised to water them daily.

And when they were momentarily stranded in Dimapur, Nagaland, without a host or hotel (most were booked for the Hornbill Festival), Chakyar came across an environmental magazine called Green Cache at a café in the local market. “We called and the phone was answered by Sentinaro Alley, who introduced herself as the publisher and promised to meet us at the café in an hour. What happened next is straight out of a dream. She heard about our project, made a few calls and, a few hours later, we were in a cab to Kohima with the five pine saplings that she had sponsored.”

Kohima was teeming with tourists, locals and festival revellers. Architect Richard Belho put them up at one of his many bamboo houses in the city and invited them to the Hornbill festival at Kisama, 12 km from Kohima. “The heritage village is designed like an ancient Naga village… I have never seen so many colours in one place before.”

Goodwill continued to pave the way for the two young men on a mission. Travelling from Shoranur, near Palakkad, to Ernakulam in a second-class train compartment, they met a man called Balan, who had planted more than one lakh trees in Palakkad, Thrissur and Wayanad districts. “Hari talked about our project and explained how it was funded by well-wishers. After he heard us out, he quietly fished out a ₹100 note from his pocket and told us to get a proper meal,” recalls Karbari. Often kindness and company are found in unexpected places.

( Sayoni Sinha is a Mumbai-based writer )

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