The Ghost Town of Dhanushkodi

I thought, thought and thought. For the first time in my life I had to accept that the destination was more important that the journey. What follows is my experience at Rameshwaram on our way to Dhanushkodi.

Upon enquiring at Rameshwaram, we were offered two modes of transport to Dhanushkodi- ride on our bikes for 12 kms after which a van service will take over, or hire a jeep to go to Dhanushkodi and come back. Prateek wasn’t keen on riding- once you stop for the day; the mind pretty much gives up on any more riding. We got ourselves an
auto-rickshaw who offered to take us there and bring us back.

Prateek and I began discussing on the state of the road and decided it was so good only because of not being used much. After travelling a few kilometres towards Dhanushkodi, we crossed a check post and the driver pulled to a stop.

‘The cyclone of 1964 destroyed all of Dhanushkodi’ he began.’ The tidal waves that accompanied the cyclone came till here. ‘The iron pillars you see over there’ he pointed to our right, ‘are from the erstwhile railway station of Ramakrishnapuram. Every year at around this time, the waters from Bay of Bengal and Indian Ocean start rising and enter the island till this check post. Once that happens, nobody is allowed towards Dhanushkodi after the check post. This goes on till Jan-Feb next year when the water begins to recede. Then this road is re-laid every year.’

That explains. It also cleared my misconception that only the Bay of Bengal surrounds the island of Rameshwaram.

‘Every day, no one is allowed to cross the check post towards Dhanushkodi after 6pm. And if anybody who returns after 7pm is questioned. Pro-LTTE activities happen in the dark.’

And I thought how fortunate I was that I changed my mind and didn’t ride towards Dhanushkodi in December last year, deciding to ride again later this year. I would have gone back disappointed.

Looking ahead, I could see that the road actually cut through sand dunes. A little ahead, the driver stopped again and pointed to some metal roads that lay twisted on the side of the road.

‘That is the railway track that used to connect Rameshwaram to Dhanushkodi. That fateful night, the train carrying passengers to Dhanushkodi was swept away. Till now, nothing has been found- the bodies, the carriages or the engine.’

‘Which train was it?’ I asked.

‘It was what we call Sethu Express today.’ I later learnt that the train was called Boat Mail because it carried passengers to take the steamer service to Sri Lanka from Dhanushkodi.

‘The building you see on our left is what is remaining of a palatial building. There used to be many in this area.’
Soon we came to a clearing in between the casuarinas that lined both sides of the road. ‘On our left is the Bay of Bengal. On our right is the Indian Ocean. The bay covers three sides of the island while the ocean covers the southern side.’

Then after a pause he added, ‘The water from the Indian Ocean has begun rising earlier than usual this year. Meanwhile the water from the bay has reached expected levels.’

This statement sent a shiver down my spine. Soon we went over a culvert and there we saw the bay and the ocean separated by no more than 6 feet, with another foot to climb before the two waters could meet.

‘There is a temple at the spot where Vibheeshana, brother of Ravana, surrendered to Rama. Do you want to visit it?’ the driver asked.

We decided to visit it on our way back. A little ahead, we saw a road to the left that led to the temple. I also spotted some hamlets so I questioned the driver about it.

‘They are fishermen. Only these people are allowed to live here. Once the water levels rise, they are evacuated and are allowed to rebuild their homes only after the water level comes down.’

‘Also, anywhere here if you dig beyond two feet, you will get drinking water. If I fill a mineral water bottle with it, you wouldn’t know the difference.’

‘How in the world can that happen? You have sea water all around!’ I asked. The driver shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It’s been like that.’
Soon we reached the Indian Navy’s Forward Observation Post. We looked around for a van service that would take us to the ghost town of Dhanushkodi. Apparently, the van takes 25 people at a time, and they had filled only half the number.

‘It means a small wait. I will wait here for you.’ the driver told us. We thought of using that time to take photos, and plenty of them. But after an hour, we began to get bored. Visitors who came after us weren’t interested in seeing the ruins. The sun was close to setting when one of the guides offered to take the last service if the ones remaining agreed to pay 100 rupees each versus the standard 40 each.

I wanted to see the place, so I agreed. We were about to start when a group of visitors landed at the place.

All’s well that ends well.

Most of us clambered in, while the rest either hung from the side or sat on the top. In hindsight, I should have done that too- I could have gotten some nice shots of the place but low light could have proved troublesome.

After driving over sand, marshy land, water and firm ground we finally reached Dhanushkodi. I saw destruction everywhere. Our guide began pointing out buildings to us- a church, a post office, a railway union office, a temple, the railway station’s water tank, the track that ended right where we stopped…

And we tested the driver’s claim about water being sweet. From a small well in the ground, we were given some water to drink. No trace of salt!

The setting sun added a dimension to the scene. It was eerie, it was sad. Then the guide said something that corrected another misconception- that Rameshwaram used to be a village with a famous temple while Dhanushkodi was a thriving town. I suppose it was a good thing that the cyclone happened. Otherwise the force of development would have changed all Victorian-style buildings to use today’s architecture.

I was curious about the bridge that was the centre of the controversy. The guide took us to raised sand dune and pointed out the beginning of the structure to us. He didn’t take us any closer as it was getting dark. Next time, perhaps.

The ride back to the Observation Post was mostly quiet. Darkness had fallen and the drive back to the hotel didn’t seem exciting anymore. There was no point in visiting the temple on our way back. Besides the policemen at the check post were sure to ask questions- which they did. But I knew one thing.

I am going to Dhanushkodi again. And not just to visit the temple that I missed this time

Pics are at http://picasaweb.google.com/jayaprakash.arun/TheDakshinLeg3