Every household in our Andaman home’s vicinity and beyond have two or more dogs of the local breed. Most do not have a band around their neck. Although they feed and guard separate households, they are free spirits. Running around whole day, enjoying themselves or just relaxing on pathway shades. They run around us joyously drawing large circles, wagging their tails in a friendly waggle. But nights, after sunset and before sunrise, Shantaram alias Lin Baba alias Gregory was absolutely right!
One day I woke up before the early Andaman and Nicobar sunrise, and left in the dark for a jog, knowing well the sun would rise soon. I heard a bark. It was our neighbour’s dog perhaps. Actually the animal was signaling to another dog in another household. Another bark from far, then more barks from all around. The bark-signals alerting one dog after another was a fierce orchestration of barks as I reached the path leading to the sea, with apprehension. As I set my foot on that road, ten dogs from ten corners started lunging at me barking fiercely. By reflex I picked stones and started throwing at them desperately and warded them till I reached the main road. The fight was on. I was sweating even before my jog. Luckily for me, the first town bus came rumbling with the rising sun at the first glimpse of daylight. The dogs left me, but I recognized them. They were all my neighbours, docile and playfully friendly in day time, but a different story in the dark.
After an hour and a half, as I returned, I was carefully looking to my sides for the dogs. But to my pleasant surprise, the same bunch of them greeted me with friendly barks from their households, like I was their chum for a long, long time. I winced.
Now, I wait till the first glimpse of sunlight, before I go for a jog. If I have to go out in the evenings, I try to walk as quietly as possible or I take the scooter.
My DOG!
Friday, January 16, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Rains, Andamans and little malice
With little malice towards the Andaman & Nicobar Administration..
I have written for newspapers here, like sometimes I did in Mainland. This article appeared on 5th May last year during rains, in a weekly tabloid size English-Tamil newspaper intriguingly named The Bullet of Andaman.
An urgent appeal for boat service at Aberdeen Bazaar and more…
Rains for just two hours, our much loved Aberdeen Bazaar turns into a mini Island. It is one hundred percent true and all of us know about it. Only thing that is missing is a boat service. As the drainage system has gone for a six, the water around the bazar at many places, especially under the footsteps of Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi is a fascinating sight. It looks as if The Mahatma is walking on water. On one side is the imposing white and blue structure where the babus and official do-gooders of our city and municipality are sitting. And on the other side the local head office of the biggest Public Sector Bank in the country busy catering to rows and rows of harried islanders, some so old, who walk with support with their pension slips. Now they too are looking for boats from the bus stop to the bank when it rains.
Well the sight has its positives. It can be advertised on the website of our tourism department to attract more tourists from across the world to live the experience of a rain made temporary island with a Bazaar in the middle. A real town planning masterpiece! As we all know that construction above three floors is not allowed by the authorities, the place being earthquake prone, so we cannot build a Empire State Building or Petronas Twin Towers to show off our greatness to the world, therefore we can promote our mini island Aberdeen Bazaar as a touristic attraction. During rains.
If proper documentation is done professionally, with video footage, power point presentation etcetera , the city could enter this man made living marvel as the eighth wonder of the world. After all most wonders are old monuments,. But our Bazaar is a live, throbbing with activity, milling with people and shops and businesses and banks. It s novelty is a plus on many counts.
As nothing is being done for years to the drainage system, or leveling of roads, we may as well take advantage of the situation. Let us request the great men sitting in the high offices, some across the road in a white and blue building diagonally in front of the Mahatma, to block the remaining drains and gutters around the Bazaar, and try to make it more and more like a real island in the rainy season. Our problem of tourist slump during the rains will be solved once and for all, if we promote this mini island bazaar as the greatest tourist destination. Point to be noted.
An immediate tender call for boat service may be announced. Only glass bottom boats may be allowed, as the tourists can look at the floating, swimming beauties of our gutters. The colourful plastic bags, gutka packets, plastic bottles in many shapes and caps with many colours and much, much more. Man made under water beauty! And yes, some boats may be designed and built like HODIS to give the tourist a Nicobar experience. Doesn’t all this sound cool?
Tenders may also be advertised for nose masks with in built perfume dispensers for the tourists as they may not be able to stomach the wonderful smell permeating from our clogged gutters. This mask may be rented, or sold to tourists who want to take them back to their countries as souvenirs.
Knee length rubber shoes will also be in great demand. Therefore the jobless entrepreneurs may be given loans to start rubber shoe factories as rubber is abundantly found in the islands.
More ideas can be discussed on how to promote this mini island Bazaar, but there is a shortage of space in this issue of The Bullet of Andaman, so let us say goodbye to each other as the Father of The Nation walks on water. If the water is clean enough to touch the Great Man’s feet remains a little mysterious!
I have written for newspapers here, like sometimes I did in Mainland. This article appeared on 5th May last year during rains, in a weekly tabloid size English-Tamil newspaper intriguingly named The Bullet of Andaman.
An urgent appeal for boat service at Aberdeen Bazaar and more…
Rains for just two hours, our much loved Aberdeen Bazaar turns into a mini Island. It is one hundred percent true and all of us know about it. Only thing that is missing is a boat service. As the drainage system has gone for a six, the water around the bazar at many places, especially under the footsteps of Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi is a fascinating sight. It looks as if The Mahatma is walking on water. On one side is the imposing white and blue structure where the babus and official do-gooders of our city and municipality are sitting. And on the other side the local head office of the biggest Public Sector Bank in the country busy catering to rows and rows of harried islanders, some so old, who walk with support with their pension slips. Now they too are looking for boats from the bus stop to the bank when it rains.
Well the sight has its positives. It can be advertised on the website of our tourism department to attract more tourists from across the world to live the experience of a rain made temporary island with a Bazaar in the middle. A real town planning masterpiece! As we all know that construction above three floors is not allowed by the authorities, the place being earthquake prone, so we cannot build a Empire State Building or Petronas Twin Towers to show off our greatness to the world, therefore we can promote our mini island Aberdeen Bazaar as a touristic attraction. During rains.
If proper documentation is done professionally, with video footage, power point presentation etcetera , the city could enter this man made living marvel as the eighth wonder of the world. After all most wonders are old monuments,. But our Bazaar is a live, throbbing with activity, milling with people and shops and businesses and banks. It s novelty is a plus on many counts.
As nothing is being done for years to the drainage system, or leveling of roads, we may as well take advantage of the situation. Let us request the great men sitting in the high offices, some across the road in a white and blue building diagonally in front of the Mahatma, to block the remaining drains and gutters around the Bazaar, and try to make it more and more like a real island in the rainy season. Our problem of tourist slump during the rains will be solved once and for all, if we promote this mini island bazaar as the greatest tourist destination. Point to be noted.
An immediate tender call for boat service may be announced. Only glass bottom boats may be allowed, as the tourists can look at the floating, swimming beauties of our gutters. The colourful plastic bags, gutka packets, plastic bottles in many shapes and caps with many colours and much, much more. Man made under water beauty! And yes, some boats may be designed and built like HODIS to give the tourist a Nicobar experience. Doesn’t all this sound cool?
Tenders may also be advertised for nose masks with in built perfume dispensers for the tourists as they may not be able to stomach the wonderful smell permeating from our clogged gutters. This mask may be rented, or sold to tourists who want to take them back to their countries as souvenirs.
Knee length rubber shoes will also be in great demand. Therefore the jobless entrepreneurs may be given loans to start rubber shoe factories as rubber is abundantly found in the islands.
More ideas can be discussed on how to promote this mini island Bazaar, but there is a shortage of space in this issue of The Bullet of Andaman, so let us say goodbye to each other as the Father of The Nation walks on water. If the water is clean enough to touch the Great Man’s feet remains a little mysterious!
Sunday, January 11, 2009
The Blind Snake of Andaman and Nicobar
SSSSNAKE. There are snakes in these islands. Plenty of them. The rented house at Pathargudda, where we stayed for a year and eight months introduced me to snakes of the Andamans. Hardly a week at Port Blair, I went to use the toilet in the morning, groggy after previous night’s drinking to the uncertainties the new land had in store camouflaged under my celebratory posture at the bar at Sun Sea Resort. As I opened the door, I woke up with a sudden jolt from my hang over. An orange coloured SNAKE about 3 feet long slithered and crossed my feet as it went into the kitchen which was adjacent to the loo. Something told me not to scream. I called Kalamati, who looked for the creepy crawly without panicking. This was the first time I saw her “Girl of the Himalalyas” side. She found the snake near the gas cylinder, and tapped the floor as she opened the door and let the snake leave. Before this I had seen people panic, scream and then kill these creatures mercilessly. We talked about the incident with our neighbours, who also were our landlady’s family.
That day we heard of the almost deadly Andhaa Saanp or Blind Snake of Andaman and Nicobar Islands. A snake everyone claimed to have seen, but everyone had a different description. Black and thin said some, striped and reddish said others, dotted and long said a few, as we travelled the islands. Everyone we met painted the snake everyone knew with a different colour. But, that the snake was blind was reiterated in unison, and that it came out in the night only was also a common refrain. Its bite does not kill, but many cases of amputation were heard of, said many I got the creeps! .The legend was growin on us!
We found snakes (12 to be exact) of different hues and sizes in the attic, in the kitchen, in the loo and other places in our wooden rented house, and each time Kalamati led them out like she knew them back from Nepal.
Six months in the islands, and just back from a trip to Havelock where it was raining and we had trekked in slush through a dense little forest to Elephant Beach, my right leg started swelling, and feverish shivers visited me in the nights. I did not bother for 3 days, but the swelling grew and fever shivers more frequent. I decided to talk to Sulochana Didi, our landlady’s 50 year old daughter who runs a clinic at the footsteps of ours and her house, Rakesh Memorial Clinic. She gave me medicines, reprimanded me for not coming to her earlier. She said the two words I had heard so often- Blind Snake! That is what probably had bitten me in Havelock.
The fever stopped gradually with Didi’s medications, but I limped as my right leg writhed in pain for three months. Puss oozed copiously and every morning was dressing and cleansing time. Medicines formed a part of my diet. Three long months!
I still have a three inch scar as a memento just below my knee.
September 5, 2008, the day we entered our newly built home and were setting up things, there it was—a black 2 feet snake resting in our corridor. I went up the Girl from the Himalayas and pointed at the spot closing my eyes pretending blindness!
That day we heard of the almost deadly Andhaa Saanp or Blind Snake of Andaman and Nicobar Islands. A snake everyone claimed to have seen, but everyone had a different description. Black and thin said some, striped and reddish said others, dotted and long said a few, as we travelled the islands. Everyone we met painted the snake everyone knew with a different colour. But, that the snake was blind was reiterated in unison, and that it came out in the night only was also a common refrain. Its bite does not kill, but many cases of amputation were heard of, said many I got the creeps! .The legend was growin on us!
We found snakes (12 to be exact) of different hues and sizes in the attic, in the kitchen, in the loo and other places in our wooden rented house, and each time Kalamati led them out like she knew them back from Nepal.
Six months in the islands, and just back from a trip to Havelock where it was raining and we had trekked in slush through a dense little forest to Elephant Beach, my right leg started swelling, and feverish shivers visited me in the nights. I did not bother for 3 days, but the swelling grew and fever shivers more frequent. I decided to talk to Sulochana Didi, our landlady’s 50 year old daughter who runs a clinic at the footsteps of ours and her house, Rakesh Memorial Clinic. She gave me medicines, reprimanded me for not coming to her earlier. She said the two words I had heard so often- Blind Snake! That is what probably had bitten me in Havelock.
The fever stopped gradually with Didi’s medications, but I limped as my right leg writhed in pain for three months. Puss oozed copiously and every morning was dressing and cleansing time. Medicines formed a part of my diet. Three long months!
I still have a three inch scar as a memento just below my knee.
September 5, 2008, the day we entered our newly built home and were setting up things, there it was—a black 2 feet snake resting in our corridor. I went up the Girl from the Himalayas and pointed at the spot closing my eyes pretending blindness!
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Andaman moorings & mornings
Hello and Namaskar,
Now that we have a home on a piece of land to call our own, we are busy making it look more like a home than a house.
Manglu, our fisherman friend goes to fish almost everyday in his boat proudly named RONOJIT at around three in the afternoon, and returns next morning at around six with an assortment of fish. As I wake up early around five for a jog on the 4 km road along the sea from Rangachang Bazar to Manglu’s home and mangrove boat park, I generally watch Manglu and his associates waving at me, as they alight with their proud catch. If I know our fish stock is over, I call Kalamati, she wakes up and drives on the scooter to join me and choose the fish. Nothing like jogging along swishing, whistling,
sensuously swaying coconut trees and the sonorous rumble and tumble of the waves changing into multitudinous hues in accordance to a secret orchestration with the rising Sun. It is magic! Initially, thinking I was getting old, I used to do brisk walking till I did sweat. After a few days as I walked, I heard a rumble behind me, almost like a stampede. I was taken aback, but as the stampede crossed me, I realized they were runners from the armed forces. 30, 40 of them, fighting fit sinewy men as they disappeared as I walked. I felt sorry for myself. I started a slow jog. After a km or so, I was bloody tired, my calf muscles were giving in, although my lungs were on my side. My swimming in the sea had made my lungs strong, I thought! Gradually I increased my distance from that day onwards. I can surely run now. I am not getting old, mate! Andaman is enigmatically returning me to my innocence. I feel free! Like the falcon flying over my head at my jogging strip swooping down to catch a prize fish and soar again. I jog to Manglu for my half weekly quota of fish. I try to locate the falcon in the sky, showing off my catch.
Our first weeks at my new home has been uneventfully eventful. I have not bagged a business contract that will fatten my bank balance, but have figured out the right place to tie our new hammock, the perfect spot for a driftwood that looks like a monitor lizard, the wall with a visible angle for our new clock etc., etc. at our sweet home Andamana.
Now that we have a home on a piece of land to call our own, we are busy making it look more like a home than a house.
Manglu, our fisherman friend goes to fish almost everyday in his boat proudly named RONOJIT at around three in the afternoon, and returns next morning at around six with an assortment of fish. As I wake up early around five for a jog on the 4 km road along the sea from Rangachang Bazar to Manglu’s home and mangrove boat park, I generally watch Manglu and his associates waving at me, as they alight with their proud catch. If I know our fish stock is over, I call Kalamati, she wakes up and drives on the scooter to join me and choose the fish. Nothing like jogging along swishing, whistling,
sensuously swaying coconut trees and the sonorous rumble and tumble of the waves changing into multitudinous hues in accordance to a secret orchestration with the rising Sun. It is magic! Initially, thinking I was getting old, I used to do brisk walking till I did sweat. After a few days as I walked, I heard a rumble behind me, almost like a stampede. I was taken aback, but as the stampede crossed me, I realized they were runners from the armed forces. 30, 40 of them, fighting fit sinewy men as they disappeared as I walked. I felt sorry for myself. I started a slow jog. After a km or so, I was bloody tired, my calf muscles were giving in, although my lungs were on my side. My swimming in the sea had made my lungs strong, I thought! Gradually I increased my distance from that day onwards. I can surely run now. I am not getting old, mate! Andaman is enigmatically returning me to my innocence. I feel free! Like the falcon flying over my head at my jogging strip swooping down to catch a prize fish and soar again. I jog to Manglu for my half weekly quota of fish. I try to locate the falcon in the sky, showing off my catch.
Our first weeks at my new home has been uneventfully eventful. I have not bagged a business contract that will fatten my bank balance, but have figured out the right place to tie our new hammock, the perfect spot for a driftwood that looks like a monitor lizard, the wall with a visible angle for our new clock etc., etc. at our sweet home Andamana.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
sweet home andamana
Hi folks,
And.a.man and his wife are now at Andamans, the northern group of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. Our Home is on the way to Chdiyatapu (Translated, Chidiya meaning Birds and Tapu meaning Island). Drive 4 kms from the Airport in the opposite direction from the Aberdeen Bazar or simply Bazaar (as known here) to Bhatubasti, an Aberdeen Bazar clone of a market. Take a left towards Prothrapur junction, from where you take a right again, drive on the road, at about 2.5 km from Prothrapur, you come to a Y, take the left road, on the way you will come across Kamrajnagar, then Brichgunj Military Range (an anti aircraft gun put on a pedestal as a sculpture stares at you without meaning any harm), and on to Beodnabad village at about 6 km from Prothrapur.
The road is not straight till Beodnabad and little ahead. It snakes beautifully through dense trees, coconut farms, dotted with a house or two for company once in a while, peeping out of the woods. Beodnabad is a tiny village of about 20 houses, most along the road with satellite medical centre, a Village Panchayat hall, a temple, few shops and a small bridge over water passing through to join the sea.
After 1 km along mangroves from here you reach chilled out fisherman Manglu and his wife Kusum’s house atop a hillock and their tiny tea, cigarette, goodies shop with a WELL visible to the road. The sea emerges suddenly and takes you by surprise, then gets friendly and hand in hand along your drive. It is here in the shade of the mangroves Manglu parks his boat named RONOJIT after his younger 11 year old son. After another 1 km along the sea, one comes across Park Hotel on the right. Leave the main road, take the narrow road on the left to a bus shelter, towards the hotel, cross the hotel gate, you reach No.4 Rangachang. You see houses and orchards scattered at distances. Look for one red-brown rectangular house with white windows and tin roof or ask Loknath Babu who owns a large piece of land and runs a teeny weeny provision shop along the narrow road after we have crossed the Hotel Gate in a black arch and large steel letters , HOTEL PARK.
You have reached our home—No. 4 Rangachang, Survey No158/1/6, Beodnabad Village, Andamans. Wasn’t it a pleasant journey?
And.a.man and his wife are now at Andamans, the northern group of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. Our Home is on the way to Chdiyatapu (Translated, Chidiya meaning Birds and Tapu meaning Island). Drive 4 kms from the Airport in the opposite direction from the Aberdeen Bazar or simply Bazaar (as known here) to Bhatubasti, an Aberdeen Bazar clone of a market. Take a left towards Prothrapur junction, from where you take a right again, drive on the road, at about 2.5 km from Prothrapur, you come to a Y, take the left road, on the way you will come across Kamrajnagar, then Brichgunj Military Range (an anti aircraft gun put on a pedestal as a sculpture stares at you without meaning any harm), and on to Beodnabad village at about 6 km from Prothrapur.
The road is not straight till Beodnabad and little ahead. It snakes beautifully through dense trees, coconut farms, dotted with a house or two for company once in a while, peeping out of the woods. Beodnabad is a tiny village of about 20 houses, most along the road with satellite medical centre, a Village Panchayat hall, a temple, few shops and a small bridge over water passing through to join the sea.
After 1 km along mangroves from here you reach chilled out fisherman Manglu and his wife Kusum’s house atop a hillock and their tiny tea, cigarette, goodies shop with a WELL visible to the road. The sea emerges suddenly and takes you by surprise, then gets friendly and hand in hand along your drive. It is here in the shade of the mangroves Manglu parks his boat named RONOJIT after his younger 11 year old son. After another 1 km along the sea, one comes across Park Hotel on the right. Leave the main road, take the narrow road on the left to a bus shelter, towards the hotel, cross the hotel gate, you reach No.4 Rangachang. You see houses and orchards scattered at distances. Look for one red-brown rectangular house with white windows and tin roof or ask Loknath Babu who owns a large piece of land and runs a teeny weeny provision shop along the narrow road after we have crossed the Hotel Gate in a black arch and large steel letters , HOTEL PARK.
You have reached our home—No. 4 Rangachang, Survey No158/1/6, Beodnabad Village, Andamans. Wasn’t it a pleasant journey?
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Hi there,
Sorry that I did not wish you for new year as I was hyper excited writing my first blog. Happy New Year to all of you there, somewhere, everywhere. Being far away, even from the country I and the islands belong to, I mean India, and coming to terms with living here was another excuse, am kind of in a pleasantly woozy state of mind even after completing two years here. It is a different world out here friend! Am now living in a place whose capital and biggest town Port Blair is much, much smaller than the smallest suburbs of the Maximum City I once lived in. In fact, on the ground floor of Atur Apartments, behind Radio Club, close to the Nariman House, Colaba, Mumbai. Whew! Memories and all!
It was kind of amusing as my wife noticed it first. The word-Mainland. I had visited a Chinese restaurant in Mumbai named Mainland China, but what was this Mainland that people talked about? It took some time and a more than a few conversation set pieces to realize India that I came from was Mainland. This too was India, but island India. It was a strange but ok feeling, that I was becoming a part of an island culture and people. Welcome to the Andaman and Nicobar Islands, India.
I became a little philosophical thinking that I was now in a lush green peaceful quarantine surrounded by the Sea, Bengalis, Tamils, Telegus, Punjabis, Gujaratis, Jharkhandis, Malayalis, Uttar Pradeshis, Marathis and people from almost all parts of Mainland India. And Burmese (Myanmarese) and Nepalese too. Blend with the exotic indigenous Negrito tribes of Jarawas, Onges, Sentinalese, Great Andamanese, and Mongloid Nicobaris and Shompens, I was SOMWHERE mate! The peaceful coexistence and laid back lifestyle here with the compulsory afternoon siesta oared me into a thinking mode. I realized, I was closer to Thailand and Myanmar than my own country. I was slowly mingling with Hindus, Christians, Muslims, Sikhs and all assorted religions and their tributary sects, who lived in almost perfect harmony.
Only two months before I decided to pack and come here, I had visited the Andaman & Nicobar Islands (October 2006). On my way back I looked down from my airplane window, felt the islands were urging me not to go away. Was I seeing my late mother’s moist eyes, as I packed to leave for my boarding school for the first time, way back in 1974? I made a decision. Full and Final.
I had looked down at her and said, ”I will be back!”
Sorry that I did not wish you for new year as I was hyper excited writing my first blog. Happy New Year to all of you there, somewhere, everywhere. Being far away, even from the country I and the islands belong to, I mean India, and coming to terms with living here was another excuse, am kind of in a pleasantly woozy state of mind even after completing two years here. It is a different world out here friend! Am now living in a place whose capital and biggest town Port Blair is much, much smaller than the smallest suburbs of the Maximum City I once lived in. In fact, on the ground floor of Atur Apartments, behind Radio Club, close to the Nariman House, Colaba, Mumbai. Whew! Memories and all!
It was kind of amusing as my wife noticed it first. The word-Mainland. I had visited a Chinese restaurant in Mumbai named Mainland China, but what was this Mainland that people talked about? It took some time and a more than a few conversation set pieces to realize India that I came from was Mainland. This too was India, but island India. It was a strange but ok feeling, that I was becoming a part of an island culture and people. Welcome to the Andaman and Nicobar Islands, India.
I became a little philosophical thinking that I was now in a lush green peaceful quarantine surrounded by the Sea, Bengalis, Tamils, Telegus, Punjabis, Gujaratis, Jharkhandis, Malayalis, Uttar Pradeshis, Marathis and people from almost all parts of Mainland India. And Burmese (Myanmarese) and Nepalese too. Blend with the exotic indigenous Negrito tribes of Jarawas, Onges, Sentinalese, Great Andamanese, and Mongloid Nicobaris and Shompens, I was SOMWHERE mate! The peaceful coexistence and laid back lifestyle here with the compulsory afternoon siesta oared me into a thinking mode. I realized, I was closer to Thailand and Myanmar than my own country. I was slowly mingling with Hindus, Christians, Muslims, Sikhs and all assorted religions and their tributary sects, who lived in almost perfect harmony.
Only two months before I decided to pack and come here, I had visited the Andaman & Nicobar Islands (October 2006). On my way back I looked down from my airplane window, felt the islands were urging me not to go away. Was I seeing my late mother’s moist eyes, as I packed to leave for my boarding school for the first time, way back in 1974? I made a decision. Full and Final.
I had looked down at her and said, ”I will be back!”
andaman and a man
Hi,
Am and-a-man. Who decided to run away to these islands of Andaman and Nicobar two years ago from Shataram’s favourite city. Two years after the devastating Tsunami that gave a deadly jolt to these sleepy islands and sleepier people.
I invited the woman I was seeing to come with me and get married in the islands. Tsunami was the scary word muttered and whispered to her by her well wishers. She loved me I knew, so albeit little hesitatingly with Tsunami in her mind but me in her heart, we boarded a flight via Chennai, to Port Blair. December 10, 2006.
Here we are in these out of the world islands700 kms long occupying an area of 8293 square kms, in Bay of Bengal between 6 and 14 degrees north latitude; 92 and 96degree east longitude, comprising of two groups of islands. Andamans in the north and Nicobar in the south separated by the Ten Degree channel. 38 (26 in Andamans and 12 in Nicobar groups) islands out of 319 are inhabited by people of the archipelago.--
--planning to start a new life in these picture post card roup of islands-The Andaman and Nicobar Islands.
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