Tourism’s damaging effect
This past month has been so miserable that apart from staying indoors, reading, surfing the Net or bingeing on movies, there is little that one can do. Driving up to the hills is now not an option since they are overrun by tourists who seem undeterred by the weather. After a short trip to Dehradun recently, I swore I would not stir out this summer. The temperatures there were only marginally lower than boiling Delhi’s and power outages made lives miserable. I have been going to Dehradun since the 1960s, and distinctly remember how the temperatures would dip after rain in Mussoorie to make one believe that one was in a hill station. The beautiful drive to the sulphur springs at Sahastradhara were a treat we were allowed often. In those days, there was only a charming Buddhist monastery and library, and gentle monks would wave at us as we passed by.
Come to 2024. Dehradun is now a Smart City: this means that its old cityscape has been altered to suit the lifestyle of the smart people who occupy it now. Gone are the gracious bungalows with litchi and mango trees and large, airy verandahs and the famous bookshops and bakeries of yore. These are either untraceable or so difficult to walk into that they have outlets all over the town that probably sell fake stuff.
Let’s not make this a dirge for an old town that has vanished (there are so many that have suffered similar fate), but question the wisdom of promoting commercial tourism. Uttarakhand is now the go-to destination for pilgrims, be it the Char Dham Yatra or visiting Kainchi Ashram (oops, sorry, now Kainchi Dham), Jageshwar and countless other pilgrim spots with ancient temples that have a magical pull. Soon, we will have the kanwariyas trotting to Gangotri to bring down Gangajal and all routes will be clogged by their long lines, with loud, raucous bhakts perched on accompanying tempos and mini-trucks blaring deafening bhajans. The National Highway is made a one-way route and the traffic on the other side is enough to turn one’s hair grey.
Several environmentalists have raised concerns about how this widening of roads, cutting down trees and allowing free access to fragile ecosystems is harming our natural resources and environment. But who cares to listen? The locals, even as they complain about this, are happy to earn the extra money they get from opening small dhabas and Maggi spots that offer ‘chaaoo mean’ and momos, cold drinks and mineral water, and offering ‘homestays’ with no proper sewage disposal units. In short, except for carping critics (who cares for them anyway?), acchhe din have arrived, they believe.
Like many others of my age who are unable to trek and undertake adventurous trips, I love the blogs that young people post. The pristine beauty of a remote village in the Himalayas or Ladakh, an atmospheric temple that hardly anyone can visit because it is so remote and difficult to reach — there are some superb views you can see as you sit in an armchair and flit from one travel blog to another. What I fear, though, is that soon, some eager tour promoter will persuade crowds to ‘explore’ these hidden beauty spots. I can just see the litter they will leave behind them as they move on after taking the mandatory selfie, to destroy the next undiscovered treasure. So, what can we do to protect the few beauty spots that are left?
For one, serious thought needs to be given to regulating the volume of tourists. If this means charging a substantial fee, so be it. This is how Bhutan has deterred irresponsible tourists from polluting its beautiful land. Do not allow roads to be widened, underpasses and bridges to be built in these areas. A pilgrimage means walking to make it. Air-dropping rich bhakts in helicopters is a strict no-no. No trees should be sacrificed to ease the path of a tourist. In Jageshwar, there is a horrifying plan to cut down thousands of its famous deodar trees, quite forgetting that it is venerated because the jyotirlingam there is named after its deodars. Many of these stately trees are hundreds of years old and are an irreplaceable treasure.
Come now to Kainchi, where Baba Neem Karoli built a charming ashram on the banks of an uttar-vahini stream. For decades, the local people went there to sit at his feet and be blessed by the loving tranquillity he exuded. After Steve Jobs, Mark Zuckerberg, Meryl Streep and other celebrities discovered it, our own Virat-Anushka and countless stars have been spotted there. So what was once an ashram is now called a dham, and accessing it is becoming impossible. At the annual bhandara held in June, there are lines of people from Bhowali that stretch for miles as they await darshan. This little village is now a thriving tourist industry of commerce that has sprung up with ‘hotuls’, dhabas and craft shops. Naturally, the locals are delighted, but has anyone thought of what this tourist overload is doing to the temple itself? I’m convinced that Babaji’s soul has fled the place. Those of us who knew him as a gentle, loving man who offered no gyan but blessed those whom he loved with his eyes, will never find that peace now.
