Dunkin donuts Islamabad

December 27th 2007, I was in SriRangam in Tamilnadu. I had accompanied my mother on a temple tour organised by a local relegious organisation. I was really upset that evening. Temple's have become commercial and corrupted, I complained, as we stood in a long non VIP line to get into the sanctum. We eventually gave up and went back since we had to board the train back home.

The next day we arrived at Ernakulam town station and all the mammies were trudging along the platform. Don't let their sagging skin and cute faces fool you. They are as extremist as they come. I had just got up and had a hangover. As we walked out the platform i caught a glimpse of the headlines at the newspaped stand. 'Benazir Bhutto dead'. Events were to follow which would question the integrity of security in Asia. She was blown up by a suicide bomber a few seconds after a futile attempt to pump shells into her head. News channels around the world descended on Pakistan to cover the events.

Fast forward two months. A semi tramp that I am, i found my way back in Delhi looking for work. I started work editing a few pieces on Pakistan sans Benazir for Rohit. He was planning on going into Pakistan to cover the coming elections. If things went well he would take me as the cameraman. Well what do you know, In a week's time I was packing a very compact shooting kit.

Everything happens so fast in life. I wish i had a remote, like the one in the movie 'Click', and pause to take it all in. Sooner than i could say Pakistan, we were on our way to the Wagah border, the last beer posts of India crossed we immediately found ourselves in trouble. You see, the Pakistan rangers are like the toughest guys around in their country, tall, well built and fierce looking. With them around there is not much illegal activity one can do, even if you happen to be an India with a very good intent. Smart ass Rohit decides to slip in the liquour that we were carrying, like we always do, into my backpack. Yeah a mallu would' nt dare smuggle the fine stuff into Pakistan, would he. We got caught, our liquour siezed. But they were kind enough not to call us spies and shoot us down. They promised to give back our bottles when we return to India. So sans the liquid we proceeded onto Lahore.


On the face of it you could compare Lahore to Mumbai, without the population. A cosmopolitan city, it had its share of tall glass covered buildings where men in suits would come to work, driving their mercs and beemers. And probably like every other city in a developing Asian country, it too has enough slums to make Danny Boyle happy. One sight that instantaneously hits you are the women in Pakistan. They are so, ahem, good looking and uh..uh so busty. As i strained my neck to appreciate their beauty (each one of them), Rohit was on the lookout for stories. We went around doing the usual, election rallies, street interviews, peoples opinion, chats with political party bigwigs, etc. The entire worlds media had descended into Lahore, home to most political parties there.

Carrying a gun mike with an XLR out to a wireless transmitter meant that I could put my mind into shooting while Rohit did the sound. It was not great stuff, i never went over the top creatively for news, where one needs to be quick to roll. The low point was when after much follow up, Asif Ali Zardari, the current President of that country, refused us an interview. But hey we got Shavaz Shariff and inputs from Imran Khan. That kept the stories up and running. That night we shed our last bits of energy looking for news and last minute disturbances.

The second day of our stay in Lahore was polling day. The entire city was deserted. We shot some voting booths, security setup, empty streets, etc. By late morning, we got to know of a contestant from a nearby town, who was gunned down by rival party members. As we approached the scene, I began to tremble. There, crashed into a wall, was an SUV, windows blasted off, inside cushions soaked in blood, the floor layered with glass, shells, party flags and blood. But my fear soon turned into courage with the sight of the resilient family members. The mother, wife, siblings and almost anyone who cared, were crying aloud to bring back their fallen loved one. The value of a life is no less across the border. I could not face them if I weren't a cameraman. We did our best and made leave, praying that no more violence happen on this historic day.

Soon we were back into the heart of Lahore. We were not getting anywhere so we decided to head to Islamabad. Heading to the nearest Daewoo bus stand, we took an express bus to the capital. These luxury buses are a good choice to get around Pakistan. Frequent refreshments, entertainment and even a sweet girl who helps you around. Rohit was getting to eat a lot, even my share, cause I happenend to be a vegetarian. And if you are a v-e-g-g-i-e then you better bid your happy eating days goodbye when you enter Pakistan. I survived my entire duration in Pakistan eating the odd biscuits, naans and of all the veggies - Brinjal.

Islamabad was much colder than Lahore. Surrounded by mountains meant it had a favorable climate all year round. We were guests to one of Rohit's friends (sorry, cannot name the guy for obvious reasons) and staying with their family was great fun. They had a beautiful home with a nice garden, in the most influential area of the city. Two fun kids, a pet goat and an impatient dog, that kept ME busy. The youngest of the kids would bring in his lego kit and with my help make something really crappy. I hate myself.

The next day, we made our way to the party headquarters of PPP, or Pakistan Peoples Party. Riding on an emotional wave upon the tragic death of their former leader, the PPP had managed to secure a descent win. So now we were busy trying to get information on the future of the ruling party. That is Rohit's job. I had my hands, or eyes, full of beautiful pakistani women journalists. Oh, they are so commanding, I used to wonder. Once in a while, I used to get a smile or a nod. Just imagine, if I had settled down there with a beautiful Pashtun girl, there would be everlasting peace between India and Pakistan. I guess not. The PPP hq or 'fort' was surrounded by men of all sizes securing it absolutely. They wore black shirts, black pants and a black cap, all with pictures of thier former leader, Benazir. One of them, a thin heavily bearded man, noticed me examining his attire. 'We give up our lives to wear this', he said. I smiled.

Driving around town we went to fill in gas, and there it was, in all its glory: Dunkin Donuts. If a radically Americanized fast food chain is any measurement of a countries progress, then Pakistan was sure progressing. Then there were the usual, Mc D's, Pizza this Pizza that, etc. What did I care, as I once again lifted a fist full of grass and stuffed it in my mouth. Islamabad is a rather new city constructed in the latter half of the last century. It is home to many expats and hence you see the brands that come along too. That evening we were at the four seasons to cover the press conference of the Mias - Navaz and Shavaz. The security was tight, but man are their cameramen real sissies. Jostling, pushing, cursing, shouting and the end result is 10 seconds of shaky footage. Me, on the other hand, waited inside and got a front row position. And as the Mia's came along, i got a perfect shot...for over 10 minutes, as those sissies behind me still pushed and shoved. I am just saying. He was there to announce the march he would take next day to the residence of the former Supreme court Chief Justice, Iftikhar Choudhary. That night, Rohit, left with his buddies out to party. I was too tired to follow. The pushing and shoving had gone too far, and i decided to crash early. Between a dog and a goat.

The next day, we were invited to the office of the director of Information and Public broadcaster. A nice lunch awaited us, veggies majority this time. We met an old guy (my mind on the veggies so could'nt remember his name) who happens to be a winning candidate from up in the mountains. >>yeah i will have some more curry please<<>>Man that is the best raita on either side of the border<<. I am sorry, but I could'nt not figure anything out that day with a full belly and all. Many Indian journalists were there, like, Nirupama Subramanian, Vinod Sharma of HT, Rohit and Me. We sure made our country proud by putting food over other important but wasteful topics like politics and development. That evening was the big rally day. It started as a small crowd, of about 100. People whose children were lawyers and now missing. They wanted the government to come in the clear, thats you Musharaf. Standing in front of the yet to be bombed Marriot hotel, they held peace posters and messages of love and harmoney. It was all going well until the lawyers union arrived. Young men dressed in suits shouting abuses at Musharaff joined the peaceful agitation and turned it into an Marilyn Manson like rogue show. With the Chief justice's house just a block away, rocks went flying, barriers were pulled down, spits were spitted until the riot police arrived. Till now the journalists and cameramen were walking with the agitating crowd and suddenly got caught between the lawyers and the riot police. Many cameramen sustained injuries from rocks, spikes and being pushed out of the way. I myself had a heavy guy falling on me, injuring my neck, but soon recovered. I was shooting away all the while. An innocent protest march had turned into a free for all. Rohit was constantly telling me to fall back as the visuals are not as important as a one's own safety. These crowded moments are what suicide bombers never fail to exploit. Even though that sense of danger persisted, I found it fun to be pushed from all sides like a rock fest. As if things could not get any worse, Navaz Shariff came around the corner cozy in his Land cruiser. With only his blow horn visible, he warned Musharaff to immediately reinstate the Chief Justice. Again, I had covered 200 meters from between the riot police to Navaz, where as other cameramen were struggling in the crowd. Being bulky has its benefits. Sometimes.

That night we were back at PPP's HQ for a briefing on the escallating situation and the imminent exit of Mushie. Unfortunately, a faulty microphone meant we could'nt get audio. And since the picture was locked, I had my eyes free to wander about. And how busy they were. Chassing and rolling with three other pairs of eyes. One was of course a young Pakistani journalist, the other seemed to be of Indian origin but was with a foriegn crew, the third was a cuttie from Japan who was there all on her own. Exchanging glances now and then, i guess, we were all distracted. Just Imagine if I had settled there with a Pashtun girl, A Pakistani Punjabi, A Japanese chic and an NRI girl: That would be the recipe for world peace. I hate myself.

Unfortunately, world peace had to wait for now. Cause yours truly had to return back to mother land. We came back to Lahore and an hours drive away, reached Wagah. Collecting our intact liquor bottles, we bid adieu to the last Pakistani soul at the border: A huge Pakistan Ranger. One step across the white line and we were greeted by India's best. A soldier with a smile on his face and a gun hanging from his shoulders. 'Welcome back' he said.

No, There were'nt any beautiful Indian journalist girls to welcome us with heroic praises and garlands. The only people who charged at us were porters and the last beer shop guy, who now happens to be the first beer shop guy. Yes, being in Pakistan was a terrific experience. Something I would cherish for the rest of my life.

Massacre at the Pagodas

Arguments. Big arguments. I threw back equal and fierce points. It was the usual thing. Every now and then begin an argument to show everyone who the boss really is. There was no truth in their words so I decided to quit. I packed my bags and left the company I was working for in Delhi. I was staying at the International Youth Hostel Chanakyapuri that night. I looked forward to returning to my dormitory bed. Clean linen awaits me. On my ride back to the hostel that November night, I could see people on the streets inching ever closer to their crude heaters and small roadside fire. That chilly night, I decided to have a hot water bath to wash off my past experience and start afresh.

The very next day my phone rang the alarm as usual. I got up huriedly and brushed up, grabbed my towel and ran to the bathrooms before the other guests got up. As I was going past the lift I glanced at the newspaper. The headlines read of the ongoing revolution the buddhist monks had started in Burma (Myanmar) a week ago. There were heavy casualities. I like to stay aware of what goes around in the world and it helps in one's profession. But the news was of no interest to me so i headed for the shower. The misty morning had covered up the sun and the solar water heaters at the hostel had just about started to produce warm water. I was getting late. I had to make do with the luke warm water. Just then it struck me. What am I getting late for ? I don't have a job. I have nowhere to go. Nothing to do. I frowned. Deep inside I was the happiest I had ever been. I walked back to my bed and slept for three more hours.

The phone rang the alarm. My brain immediately issued a communique, it read,'YOU DONT HAVE A JOB. GO BACK TO SLEEP'. I switched off the alarm. A few minutes later the phone rang again. It was Rohit. He was pissed with me for not answering his calls. I apologized for mistaking it with the alarm. He wanted to see me urgently. As in Right Now. Rohit Gandhi is a journalist. His entire career has been dedicated to investigative and war journalism. In his younger days, he worked with NDTV. He left the country to work with foreign broadcaster's CNN (not to be confused with CNN IBN) and CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation). He has covered the wars in Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan; the Asian tsunami (for which he won the Dupont award); and numerous political coverages. He has won his share of international awards and is an Emmy nominee this year (2008) for his National Geographic co-production Slave Girls Of India. I first worked with him during the 2007 bombing of the Pakistan bound trains at Panipat. He is an amazing person to work with. With him, you put real hard work for a few hours and chill out and party for the rest of the day.

I rushed towards south Delhi where he runs his office from. He and a friend of his were planning a trip of some kind. Nothing was being clearly explained as he was always on the phone. I waited for a long time till evening came. His entire family was getting ready for the diwali celebrations. I was just looking forward to my nights sleep. I am a very lazy person. I like to conserve energy and use it at the right time. Finally Rohit approached me and we sat for a long discussion that would put me right in the middle of the biggest adventure of my life. Think of it like a surrogate expedition of Indiana Jones and Rambo. Rohit and his pal Satinder wanted to go into Burma to report the after effects and the military brutality upon the ongoing revolutionists. The only issue was that Burma was closed to outside media. Foriegn journalists were arrested and deported. One japaneses war photographer was even shot dead in full view of protesters. The state run television of that country repeatedly beemed messages of the revolution being peaceful and under control. They blamed the BBC and other media for tarnishing the image of Burma’s dictator, Tan Shwe. The reality entirely different. The internet was reporting deaths of over 10000 and massive arrests, arson, rape, humiliation and starvation.

So Satinder and Rohit’s bright plan was to sneak into the country from India and report of the atrocities. GREAT. And how do we suppose do that. Should I pack an AK and a UZI with the equipment too? It sounded more like a suicidal mission than a news gathering event. Maybe I was drunk when I agreed to it. (You don’t take long to get drunk when you are with Rohit).

I was appointed the second unit cameraman and sound recordist. The news capsules were for a US channel, CBS, with Satinder Bindra as the anchor. It took a week of planning before we got the go ahead. Satinder flew in from the US. I was on equipment duty and was running around looking for stuff we would need to produce on the field – a good microphone, lights, hard disks, camera, tripod, cables etc. We would be editing the pieces on the fly. Every now and then I would check the papers and the internet for any reports on Burma. That evening I was introduced to Satinder Bindra. I had seen him only once and found him to be a tough guy. He was the asia head of CNN for something like eight years. He has covered every war and natural disaster in this continent for the last two decades.


That evening was busy arranging the last bits of equipments, doing research, packing, stocking supplies, charging bricks etc. Early next morning satinder arrived with what looked like a big cardbox containing eatables. At the airport the extra weight of the equipment and supplies had crossed more than the value of our tickets. Now anyone who has flown into Aizwal, the capital of Mizoram, knows that the ride is as bumpy as fred flintstones primitive automobile. Basically the climate there is unpredictable, with the airport sitting on a high valley between two peaks. As we came in to land, it felt like we were in a runway deep in the jungle cause where ever you look its forested hill slopes. There were like 50 sparrows tweeting in the flower beds at the airport. Once we got out the forest seems to be there everywhere. It is a nature lovers dream come true. Rohit and Sat with all the luggage took a maruti 800 taxi to town while I followed in a bus. I strained my neck as I could not get enough of the forests all around. We arrived on a weekend so everything was shut. And like most town and villages in the North East, they take their holidays to socialise and have fun.

One of the worst parts of being in a small low budget crew is that you often end up having to carrying heavy equipment yourself. Now our hotel had no lifts, so which means I had to slug those heavy equipment bags up the moutain slope, into the hotel and up the stairs for three floors. But the moment you reach there, the stunning locales relaxes your body and mind. In the morning's I would get up and watch as the sun rises beyond the hills, the mist lifts revealing the church in a distance. The rays setting up a chain reaction of emerging life in this hill town. School children dressed pretty, traders with fresh fruits, the taxi guys washing their 800cc cars, pigs squeling in the distance.

We booked a sumo which would take us even deeper into the outback. To a place called Champai. Now Champai is GORGEOUS. Its a plantation town located on a valley surrounded by mountains on all sides. A rare placeswhere they still construct homes in the mountains and have left the plains untouched for agriculture. The place is also famous for its winery, which I found out later on. We checked into the tourist bungalow and each of us got a cottage. The balconies openend up to give residents a beautiful view of the valley. The place is often deserted cause hardly any tourist ventures into this area. The resident receptionist/manager/caretaker also happens to be the local juice saleslady. I cant remember how many bottles of brain numbingly sweet grape and passion fruit juices I had at that place. The chef (ex militry havaldar) always had a machatee in his one hand and a helpless pig in his other. A long wooded driveway out of the cottages leads to a shop run by a lady who makes hot soup (aaaarrrrhhh only beef and pork) and the worlds best plain donughts i have ever had. We filmed in Champai for three days. The official border to Myanmar is close to Champai and across a river.

Now what we filmed here and where we went from there I cannot tell you. But our plan was to get as far away from the official border as possible. We drove through thick forest to a tiny hamlet nestled amidst hills from where we would begin our 9 hour long trek into Burma. I was excited but carrying loads of over 50 kilos on my back meant i needed to make a real push for it. Initially everything was well. We were soaking in the surroundings, shooting as we went along. But as we went deeper into the jungle it got harder. We were walking on a narrow pathway along the mountain slope. Our progress slowed down by knee deep slush. Every two hours or so we would meet the odd shepherd, trader or drug smuggler. Once we reached the river (cannot reveal the name), our friends from across the border came to pick us up in a boat carved out of a huge tree. It still did not qualify to be called a boat, maybe a tree boat. By the time we crossed into burma it was pitch black. I remember popping in a kit kat to get some sugar going. I heard the trek from here to the nearest village takes a 5 hour climb through forests full of deadly reptiles and army snipers. We were not allowed to use flashlights as we could easily get spotted. The risk of getting caught by the Burmese army is high which would result in a 6 month jail term for us Indians. For the locals it is a sure shot passport to afterlife. Under the moonlight we walked each of us following the others foot placing. Rohit filmed Satinder's effort using a sony night vision handycam. I remember being with the group for only about an hour. I collapsed four times enroute. I fell flat on the moist ground and passed out. The guides would give me ice cool stream water to get me up and going. I was sweaty, tired, agittated and angry. It was tough. The locals promise of the soon approaching village never came true. We kept on climbing over one hill followed by another for over 3 hours. Then we met our rescue team. A handfull of villagers who were woried by our delay and came in search. They brought gaitorade and vitamin water. Local style. A bag full of palm sugar concetrate balls and fresh stream water boosted our energy levels to the peak. The rest is history. I went beserk. The guy, me, who was always trailing behind the others, picked up my bags and walked never to stop till the village came. To give you a perspective, it took the others nearly 30 minutes to catch up. To give me company was a young boy who came with the search party. Once there, the village headmen served us rice accompanied with fried frogs and roasted rats. I stuck to the rice. But the poverty struck me ever more.

Next morning would give us a real sign of why things are going wrong in this land. Forced labour, rape, looting of livestock and agricultural commodities by the army government had humiliated the locals to depression. Looking at us people smiled but their livelihood and culture (especially for being christian) were being forced into extinction by the monstrous government of that land.

The village consisted of two rows of houses- about twenty of them. They lived on forest produce and whatever they could cultivate by destroying the forest. As I walked along the main pathway children, girls, elderly all looked at me and were having a laugh riot that would bring envy to any popular sitcom. They called me a word, which I later found out meant - broiler chicken. I was so bogged down by the climb of last night that I was walking around with a camera, knees bent, back arched just like a broiler chicken.

We were there only for a couple of hours cause the army had got to know of our location and had sent a team to capture us. Upon hearing this our guests urged us to return back to India. Not before we shot and made our story. With a lovely burmese song playing in the radio in the background, Me and rohit shot away at every aspect of the people and their lifestyle. Interviews, comments, opinions were all captured in our magnetic tapes. Post lunch (just rice for me) we returned complaining on our trek back to the Indian side. Just as night fell, we crossed back into India and camped in the forest.

You might find that I am hardbound not to divulge details of locations and people. Not that these places are difficult to locate, anyone can do that with google earth or wiki maps. Just that I have a duty not to compromise the safety of the kind hearted burmese villagers. That is the least I can do from my side supporting the fight for democracy in Burma.

We returned back and edited three stories that went on air across the US giving a rare glimpse into the secret world of Burmese rebel groups and the suffering villagers.

FREE BURMA



**I found that 80% of what was in our supply box were of the liquid kind, those which gave you hangovers. Everything from Vodka to Brandy. I was starting to fear this expedition would need more guts that earlier thought.

**Two months post our expedition saw the release of Rambo 4 which has the same storyline as ours. Except that we saved our own ass.

Always Amazing Assam

I dont know what special bond i share with that state, but i just love it. Being from Cochin Kerala going to Assam is a difficult proposition. But i love to travel and the brain thing in my head is always scheming and proposing new ways to get around India.


The Beggining

Opportunity first knocked in 2005. I had just finished my course in videography and was on the look out for a job. A very good friend of mine had suggested meeting a company in South Delhi who were planning to make wildlife documentaries on Assam. I jumped on the wagon without another thought. I remember it was raining that evening, when me and my two friends made our way to Delhi on borrowed bikes. We were desperately looking for the address. What came of that evening was an opportunity of a life time. The company had just got commissioned 4 doc's from Doordashan Guwahati. And now we were to help produce them, the three of us working in different capacities to help the producers. Excitement gripped us all. We were discussing crazy ideas and were up all night planning on how to shoot sequences - One of us would jump from an elephant and distract the rhino while I crept close enough to get a close up of the rhino sticking his horn somewhere it hurts. Or something like that. Nitish a good friend from Vikas Puri was interested in direction and he came up with very good concepts but nothing meterialised. Much of his imaginations were too tough to be made into realty for a start up team.

We proposed to make a recce trip to Assam where it would be better to understand the conditions and challenges of shooting in the area. Towards June end me, Nitish and Dheeraj (another great friend from Gorakhpur) boarded the Rajdhani towards Gauwahati. Now I should mention this that the producer of the programme was a real Uncle Scrooge and was unwilling to sponsor our trip. So we were on a real down the pits kind of budget. The only thing we splurged upon was the train tickets cause we were scarred to board an ordinary train through Bihar*.

Now things were going great till we reached Gauwahati. We had set foot in Assam finally and got our ride to our rooms when a bomb blasted at the IOC tankers next to the railway station. Thankfully we had made way by then. We were in Gauwahati for two nights during which we went around town...to the great zoo that the city has and also to the forest department offices. Once that round of meeting the beurocrats was done, it was time to change gears and head straight for the war zone.


The Conflict

Our first pitstop on our journey of assam was the town of Tezpur, where our first documentary was set. Tezpur is around 150 kms from the capital of Assam, Dispur, and has a sizable mixed population of Bengalis, Assamees, Bodos and Bangladeshi migrants. It lays on the north bank of Assam a huge chunk of land cut in half by the mighty Brahmaputra. We had the river in our backyard with forests just outside the town. Kaziranga, Nameri, Orang are all quiet close to Tezpur - hence our choice was set. Now Tezpur also happens to be surrounded by huge tea estates and paddy fields. These would be the battleground everynight. Year after year during the harvest season of Bihu (Nov-Jan) hunderds of migrating elephants from adjoining forests make their way into the paddy fields around Tezpur to reap the benifits of a good (or bad) harvest. Violent battles are fought between man and beast, each with sizable casualities and sorrowing families. Yet none gives in and looks forward to the next night for a game of one upmanship. On the second day of our trip in Tezpur we went to explore the area around the tea gardens and saw first hand the damage the two sides were causing on each other. During peak harvest season someone was dying each night. We heard horriffic stories (with many photos) of electrecuted elephant calves and mutilated human beings. It is very rare to see an elephant in this area without scratch marks, gun shot wounds, sceptic feet and all. Elephants rest in the tea estates during the day time and converge onto the paddy fields to feed at night. The tea estate workers who also work in the fields are mostly tribals from Jharkhand and Chattisgarh. Of poor economic background these people often consume home made rice beer which gives them a surge of courage in fighting the beasts. It so happens that the very same rice beer happens to be the favoirate beverage of elephants, who love its intoxicating sweet taste (Is Malaya reading this?). So the elephants come knocking at the houses of these people. Now an elephant knock is actually a knock down. The rest I leave to your imagination.

We got an opportunity one day to visit the Sonai Rupai Sanctuary near Tezpur. The forest here is in a decline and under tremendous pressure from a local population hungry for forest produce. With the support of the timber mafia, the locals have decimated the forest, clearing large chunks of greenery and converting the same into agricultural land. We went deep into the forest in a department pick up truk. There were no roads, just a fireline through the forest. We were unable to locate the elephant herds believed to be in there. A big problem. Cause if they were not in the forest, then it meant they were on the edge waiting for nightfall to raid the paddy fields. We made way to a nearby village and rested. Around late evening we decided to patrol the forest boundary when all of a sudden the gaurd stopped the vehicle and stepped out. He pointed to a ford around 200 meters away from where they were expectng 80 - 150 to cross into neighbouring villages. Dude thats a lot of elephants. We decided to check it out. We were on foot for more than 20 minutes in a light drizzle walking along the ford. The rain, the slush and the fear of being stampeded by a herd of hungry elephants made my legs seize. I was breathing faster. The only thing i could hear was my heart beating. Any minute now the elephants were to come crashing through the trees aiming their tusks at us. I was shit scared, cause if there are 150 elephants coming from there, should'nt we be moving the other way. You know just for today maybe we can skip the action. The sun had set long back and now it was getting real dark. The gaurds took in huge puffs from their beedis after which they started retying their laces, tightening their belts and stretching as if they were getting ready to run. The head gaurd wanted to borrow my umbrella. His explanation : If the elephants charged we throw the umbrella at them and run. Ok great. I am game for the running part. I dont know if throwing an umbrella is a great idea. Maybe it will make us run faster cause now the elephants are gonna be real pissed. But the elephants had other plans. They had already crossed into a nearby reserve forest through a narrow patch of depleted woods. The depredation was going on all around us. Only we could not see it. We made short trips to Kaziranga and Orang just to rething our strategies. We eventually concluded that it was not the best time to shoot and should return in a month's time ready for a full shoot.

We were excited when we returned to Tezpur nearly two months later. This time we had all the gear for a basic shoot - a sturdy camera, tripod, lights, etc. Ok thats all good, but even god cant help a man who is really stupid. We had made our way into the Amribari tea estate and were shooting sequences of broken bridges and destroyed huts when word came that there was a huge makhna (tuskless male) in the adjoining tea estate. This is when we learnt our first lesson. Never irritate a wild animal to the point that it feels provoked enough to defend itself. To get a good sequence of shots we decided to follow the tusker on foot, through trenches, bridges, tea estates and all. He would at times stop turn around and pause for a second, looking dead at us. I am pretty sure he wanted to say 'dude you follow me again and i am gonna see that your dinner goes cold tonight'. We din't get the message. Keeping a distance of 100 - 200 meters we reached an elevated patch of the tea estate where there were a few trees growing. He was feeding on these trees which are planted in tea estates to provide shade for the tea leaves. We were filming this when it turned around and halved the distance between us in the flash of an eyelid. It was on full charge not a mock one. The gaurd shot in the air, bringing the pachyderm to an instant stop. He turned around and ran into a nearby sugarcane field with his tail raised. In the confusion we had missed the firing shot. We were dejected - I was heartbroken - for missing the shot, for disturbing the poor beast and for exposing ourselves to the locals as a gun toting group. Ever since I have always kept a sure safe distance between any animal and myself. The very next day would be our induction into the whole drama surrounding this town.


We were in the Chardwar range, on the road which leads to Arunachal. There is a small reserve forest neighbouring the Nameri National Park. Now the elephants numbering over 150 have to make way through this degraded reserve forest - cross the road and onto another small reserve forest - to reach the tea estates and paddy fields. We had succesfully filmed the first crossing between the two reserve forest. We had seen them coming and were ready on the road when this huge herd led by the head female crossed us. The sight of these elephants would make anyone sick. They have been starving inside the forest with nothing much to eat and now thier bones and saggy skin tells the tale. They are now on the brink of death and the paddy fields are their only option. All that stops them is the road - a handfull of irate villagers and the forest department. I filmed an entire sequence before we made our way for lunch. We were back in a jiffy. We stayed on in the location for over eight hours filming the odd elephant crossings well into the night. Chardwar was surrounded on three sides by forests and on the fourth side were paddy fields and villages. This is the middle of nowhere yet the amount of people congregating here is so immense that of late prostitutes have descended to make business with the survivors. A few of them approached us too. What were they thinking ? We want to do it with 200 elephants watching. At night, the villagers came in their hundereds to protect their paddy fields. This was an important sequence we wanted to film. There was confusion and pandamonium when in the horizon we could see the elephants coming out of the reserve forest. We jumped onto the roof of our 4wheeler and started filming. We reversed and made our way to a nearby railway line where we could get a better shot. The villagers were also waiting on this line with their mashaals burning. The elephants were nowhere to be found...Did we miss them? Had they crossed already ? It was pitch dark and the mashaals threw little light into the nearby area. I tried lowering the levels of the camera to see what i could. And what i saw shocked me. The elephants were here .... right next to us (50-80 meters) ... silently waiting for us to make room for their crossing. They knew it would be wiser to be patient than get into a confrontation. We pushed back a little. Just then the villagers saw the elephants and ran towards them bursting crackers, shouting and waving their fierce mashaals. Thats when i got my fav shot of all time. The scene: the railway line, the shouting villagers 50 meters away from us shining all their torches and lights at us and between us began the crossing with the elephants getting back lit. It was a moment of zen. All this believe me happened within a minute. The crossing itself lasted only 30 seconds. We were thrilled and the grins on our faces told the world. Once that was done we ran towards the safety of the car because the bull elephants who often cross last could be anywhere. And with a bull elephant around its like being in a boxing ring with young Mohammed Ali - You just dont stand a chance.

(Elephants have set migration routes which they follow every year from one forest to another. These forests are fast depleting. Every year they come looking for a forest but find a tea estate or a paddy field. Now what can they do ?)

We went on to shoot for over 20 days, in and around the tea estates, paddy fields and forests. Me, Nitish and Dheeraj had a great time. We came ever closer and yet so far off with many fights breaking out. But thats a part of life we all need to experience. The Sucess and the Failure. Looking back now the documentary, The Conflict, turns out to be an average one, we all did our best no doubt. It was a great chance to learn on the field. Those days can never be outdone by any other experience i have ever had in my life. (Ok maybe some)

I did visit Assam later on twice, once for filming the rest of the three doc's - Amazing Assam, Kaziranga A World Heritage Site; Zoos and Rescue Centers of Assam. This was when the rhino's were being translocated to Manas from Kaziranga. Swati Thyagarajan from NDTV was there with her cameraman. Manas, I feel, has the most awe inspiring mornings. I saw a leopord there once, sitting majestically on a tree. I was not shooting then, but the NDTV cameraman and my producer got a shot.

The other time i revisited Assam was in December 2007 to do shoot/record sound for a small story about the man elephant conflict for the CBS - KPIX SanFransisco hosted by Satinder Bindra. We were three - Me, Sat and Rohit Gandhi. We had a great time visiting Kaziranga. But since the tribals were revolting during that time and the whole state was burning, we could not make much of a story and had to be happy with what we had.

I look forward to study the situation over there in present days. I often tell myself i am a realist because I pray the man elephant conflict in Assam gets resolved but I know its getting worse.

I wish all the forest gaurds and officers of the Assam Forest department their very best in this endeavour. A special shout out to WWF who are doing great ground work to resolve the issues between man and elephant. Peace.


PLEASE DO YOUR BIT TO SAVE THE ASIAN ELEPHANT. THEY ARE OUR PRIDE AND THE TRUE IDENTITY OF OUR NATION.



+ All animals in the wild should be treated with caution. All thoughts above are my feelings and is not to be taken by anyone as a guide. I am relatively an amateur in this proffession compared to the experts and forest department workers.

(*Having travelled through Bihar later on in ordinary trains, I don't think the situation is so bad. The country side is really pleasent and reminds one of Colonial India*)