Is it a deep-seated desire to control nature, or a thirst for high-flying progress on the expanse of development? Whatever the reason, the result is horrific. One doesn’t have to go far to witness this fate. Since the cloudburst on the night of September 15, such sights are common in the outer areas of Doon. Just look at the road leading to Chamrauli, merely 18-20 kilometers from the capital. You’ll keep searching for the road and won’t find it. This lifeline for dozens of villages like Phulet and Chamrauli, situated along the Bandhal River—which flows from Tehri to Doon—has been completely devastated by the disaster.
This challenging path reminds one of the famous writer Phanishwar Nath Renu’s work ‘Dayan Kosi’ and Shiv Prasad Singh’s ‘Karmnasha Ki Haar’. Though the contexts of these stories may be different, the outcome was the same destiny. It is also true that the Bandhal, which usually flows placidly, is neither the Kosi nor the Karmnasha. Both those rivers became a curse for Bihar during the monsoon season. The question then is: even if a river like Bandhal swelled during the rainy season, why did it unleash such a fierce dance of destruction?
The Wrath of the Song
I am Kiran Panthari, a wanderer and an inquisitive soul. On Friday, I set out for Chamrauli with my friend and wildlife photographer, Raju Pushola. These villages, situated on the road from Maldevta towards Mussoorie, have been much discussed due to the disaster. Moving from Raipur towards Maldevta, we crossed the police checkpost on the main road, and the scenery began to change. A large part of the road, a victim of the Song River’s fury, is destroyed and undergoing repair. It seems as if the Song has decided to expand its domain. After this stretch, the road is reasonably intact for a while. It is early morning, so the sun is not yet too harsh.
A little later, we reached Lal Pul (Red Bridge) in Maldevta. Just before here, near Kumalda, the Bandhal’s journey ends as it meets the Song, and from here, only the Song continues forward.
Silence Over the Resorts
The road turning left from Lal Pul is our destination. After a short rest at a tea stall, we continue our journey. As we proceed on the rocky path, Raju tells me about the bird habitat here. The area is a favourite haunt for countless birds like the Spotted Forktail, Brown Dipper, Crested Kingfisher, and Small Niltava. As he drives the bike, his eyes constantly scan the surroundings. Our bike bumps along, jostling us forward. After some distance, a beautiful waterfall appears on the left. Raju commented that it wasn’t this big before. We encountered numerous such newly formed waterfalls on this trip. The journey continued. The ruins visible along the riverbanks silently tell the tale of that night. The silence spread over the beautiful resorts built along the Bandhal’s edge also speaks volumes.
Remnants of the Road
After covering five kilometers from Lal Pul, we reached a spot where a JCB and other machines were parked. Some laborers were preparing to fix the broken road. Talking to Prakash, the JCB operator, he said there was no road ahead. If we wished to proceed, we would have to walk. He warned us that we wouldn’t be able to go very far. But we weren’t ready to turn back.
The path ahead was like traversing a dried-up riverbed, but before September 16, this was the road. After crossing a mound of debris, the remnants of the road reappeared. A little further, the road vanishes again, replaced by a gorge and a waterfall plunging into it. We somehow managed to cross it and pressed on towards our goal.
Far from the Destination
It was half-past nine in the morning, and there was no one around for miles. Grand buildings stood deserted. Perhaps their inhabitants are currently in safer places. Water from a spring gushing from the hillside was falling into the gorge, and we took the risk of crossing it. This success bolstered our spirits.
Suddenly, Raju stopped, his eyes searching for something across the river. He told me that this place was a resting spot for the Brown Fish Owl. This fish-loving creature usually prefers to stay near the riverbanks in the forest. Although we sensed its presence, we didn’t manage to see it.
With renewed enthusiasm, the journey resumed, but it came to a halt just 50 steps ahead due to a deep gorge and the sheer force of a waterfall. There was no clear option to move forward. Only one route seemed possible: climbing the hill on the left to reach the other side. But rocks rolling down the hillside crushed that idea. What could we do? Bowing before the power of nature, we returned to tell the story of this unfinished journey. On the way back, gazing at the Bandhal, the thought flashed: How long can ‘Nature’ be bound, be it a river or a human? Freedom is its aspiration.
