| Why the sea? Why Reefwatch?
Jacques Cousteau! Though he is no longer around, he lives
in the hearts of thousands like me who were inspired by his
life's work to study and protect the sea. Apart from his research
and the films he created, he also founded CMAS (World Underwater
Federation), the rigorous divers' certification course that
enables people to explore the undersea world. Cousteau's life
convinced me that if we are able to impart a healthy respect
for the sea in our kids, they will grow up to defend it. Reefwatch
is a trust I started with a simple purpose: to study the sea
and communicate the need to protect this source of all life.
And how do you hope to achieve this through children?
There is no other way. Children are the future. Reefwatch
was set up to undertake serious scientific investigations,
whose complicated lessons we hope to bring to children in
simple ways, through workshops, camps, books and films. Kids
are like sponges… they absorb everything... corals, shells,
crabs and sharks… we teach children to love and respect
them all.
Ever since 'Jaws', sharks evoke fear and revulsion. Yet
you care so deeply about them?
You need to be with me in a shark pit with 18 grey reef
sharks to understand just why. The experience is surreal,
like being part of a water-colour canvas. I have dived
with sharks. Observed them. I know they are among the world's
most perfectly evolved, yet hopelessly misunderstood creatures.
You feel the same way about tigers. In the wild, both are
relatively slow-breeding apex predators and both are dying
because their habitats are being degraded and hunters are
slaughtering them ruthlessly.
And how do you convince 'non-believers' that sharks need
saving?
By using 'common sense science' to convey what needs to
be done. For instance, sharks prey on octopus, which in turn
prey on lobsters. If you kill the sharks, octopus numbers
will rise. Fisherfolk will be unable to catch lobsters and
will suffer financially. The same holds true for coral damage.
When reefs vanish, with them go scores of commercially valuable
species on which large and small fisherfolk depend. The most
conclusive evidence supporting this is the plummeting fish
catch all along India's coastline and in our territorial waters.
How did the sea creep into the life of someone born in
the Himalaya?
It's not just the sea. It's rivers, forests, deserts…
My parents brought me up in the Dooars of West Bengal, where
my father worked with Duncun Brothers, a British tea company.
They gifted me my love for nature. Everyday was an 'outdoorsy'
day, no neighbours for miles... our bungalow lay in the middle
of a thick forest. I saw my first tiger when I was four; my
father slowed his car down, asked us to roll our windows up
and watch silently. I remember its eyes as the cat got up
gracefully and walked by our car, virtually brushing the front
fender. I get goose bumps just talking about it! It's not
the sea, or the mountains, or tigers, or sharks. It's all
things bright and beautiful.
And that presumably includes Prahlad, your wild and inimitable
ad film-maker husband?
He is wild, no doubt! But most people don't know him.
He struts about Mumbai like an animal prowling the page three
parties, but the only time he is truly alive is under the
sea where he can be one with the universe.
When did the sea come into your life?
Prahlad had gone to Mauritius for a film shoot more than 15
years ago and there he met someone who was to change both
our lives forever. I still think Hugues Vitry is more fish
than human. Prahlad saw him at the pier with a boatload of
divers and asked if he would 'take him down' just to show
him what diving was about. At first Hugues refused, but then
Prahlad's legendary ability to get his way kicked in and the
next morning Prahlad was under water. He fell in love with
the water-world and soon I did too. Prahlad saw a copy of
the Koran on that dive, billowing on the sandy bottom. He
gave it to the Islamic Department of the local university.
I still wonder what kind of sign that was!
And now it would appear the whole family has sea salt
in its veins!
Our first-born is Arnav, which means ocean. We named our
second boy Varun, or lord of the ocean. And Anhjin, the littlest,
is 'pilot of the seas' in Japanese. Yes, all five of us are
part of the 'blue' in our blue planet.
When did you start diving?
Almost the day we returned from Mauritius, Prahlad organised
training sessions, with help from naval divers, in the Sea
Rock Hotel swimming pool in Bandra. We returned to Mauritius
the next year, but I was terrified when I saw the cold, dark
green sea (we went off-season to save money!) and refused
to dive. Holding both my hands, Prahlad and Hugues convinced
(coerced) me to go down 'just once'. And miraculously, the
sight of the gentle sandy sea bed just a few metres under
the surface instantly reassured me. Magically, all fear vanished.
Nothing anyone had said prepared me for what I experienced...
a moray eel in its cave, a balloon-like puffer fish, jacks,
schools of small tropical fish. I was hooked. When I came
up after my first dive, I could not talk for quite a while.
I felt transported, as if I had been through a religious,
spiritual experience.
Can anyone become a diver? It must have been hard work
becoming an instructor?
You should know! After all, I put you through your paces
before you took to scuba diving! Actually, once you get used
to the breathing apparatus, overcome the claustrophobia (if
I could do it, anyone can!) and if you have the right instructors,
all it takes is discipline, determination and practice. It
helps if you fall in love with the sea as so many divers have
done. But if you want to progress beyond recreational diving,
you must be prepared for commando-style training: marathon
swimming, free-diving, rescue-diving and first aid. I needed
a holiday after my 'holiday', which turned out to be eight
days of practical and theory exams. Eventually, I did become
India's first woman CMAS instructor. Anyone can become a diver,
but this is not a casual, carefree involvement. You must first
learn to respect the sea and everything in it.
How does one qualify as an instructor?
Once you pass the two and three-star level, you can opt for
advanced instructor-level diving certification. This involves
a one-month apprenticeship: cleaning up the dive centre, filling
scuba tanks, lugging them onto the boat, kitting and de-kitting
tanks while exhausted and then, when both body and soul are
in despair, sitting through evenings loaded with diving physics
and life-saving rescue lectures! Then you will have to learn
what decompression sickness is. Just when you think you've
got the hang of it, you must prove that you can bring up a
'diver in distress' twice your weight, free-finning, without
any air in your Buoyancy Control Jacket (BCJ) from a depth
of 25 m. As if that is not bad enough, you then discover that
your instructor has moved the boat so you have to tow your
inert 'victim' 100 m.,de-equip him and administer first aid.
You are being assessed every minute of the three-dive-a-day
period of 10 days.
Is all this weighted against women, a male-dominated domain?
I don't think so. I was the only woman doing the instructor's
course and I did have to prove myself to be capable of doing
what everyone else could (primarily lug really heavy equipment
about!), but I finally topped my class. Even if I say so myself,
I am a safe person to dive with because I respect the sea,
refresh my theory constantly and (perhaps, thanks to the lack
of machismo) never, ever take unnecessary risks.
Your husband runs Lacadives, a commercial outfit; Reefwatch
is a non-profit one. Are you ever in conflict?
That depends on what you mean by 'commercial' and 'conflict'.
Lacadives does not put any bread on Prahlad's table. If anything,
it's the other way round! His profession is film-making. He
started Lacadives because he felt that India's marine environment
was being destroyed. Unlike most ocean-fronted nations, Indians
are not encouraged to look below the surface of the sea. Lacadives
was set up to change all this. It seeks to be self-supporting,
while sustaining professional divers who can rely upon world-class
scuba equipment (a life-and-death matter). Reefwatch sometimes
uses Lacadives' equipment and Lacadives imparts free scuba
training to selected NGOs, the Coast Guard, forest and Navy
personnel. Reefwatch is a registered Charitable Trust that
hires its own staff, organises its own boats and runs independent
programmes funded through grants. There is no scope for conflict.
How would you compare the Andamans and Lakshadweep, India's
finest coral habitats?
I know Lakshadweep's coral islands, sandy beaches and
gentle high-visibility seas much better, for I have dived
here for years. The Andaman archipelago undoubtedly commands
more awe. The tropical littoral and rainforests are thick
and mysterious. The Andaman Sea seems to be more plankton-rich
and consequently the visibility is lower. The fringing reefs
around the islands are watered by swift currents and the coral
diversity there is streets ahead of the Lakshadweep. Both,
however, are suffering the affliction of tourism gone wrong
- plastic bags, oil and pollution, unseemly construction.
Such evidence is conspicuous by its absence in the Andaman
Sea below the 100 Channel in the Nicobar group of islands.
Some people are advocating aggressive tourism for this
area.
That would be a disaster. The corals here mirror the diversity
one sees in the rainforest in terms of their immense value
and unstudied state. These waters are breeding grounds for
fish and should be protected strictly as they could feed the
Indian people long after our tired soils have been depleted.
I hope the island authorities have the good sense to keep
'development' and tourism far away from the Nicobars. No sound
financial mind would advocate such an initiative as the far-flung
location of these islands would render tourism unviable because
of the logistics involved. The real threat to these isles
comes from Indonesian and Thai poachers who take sharks, sea
cucumbers, crocodiles and all the fish they can catch because
we do not equip our forest department or Coast Guard as we
should.
What should India be doing - or not doing - to protect
its marine habitats?
Reefwatch is asking that we at least take the first step
by properly documenting our coral diversity. We have worked
with the Coast Guard and with Sanctuary to survey sharks,
corals and other marine fauna in the Nicobars and we received
tremendous support from the Ministry of Environment, which
agreed to place several highly threatened and endangered species
on Schedule I of the Wildlife (Protection) Act, 1972.
It would help greatly if economists and developers realised
the true worth of places such as the Gulf of Kutchh and Mannar,
the turtle nesting beaches of Gahirmatha and the mangroves
of the Sunderbans. All these are being exploited for short-term
financial gains.
Can you name a few examples?
Take the case of the Marine National Parks at Pirotan and
in the Gulf of Mannar, both habitats of the dugong, an endangered
marine mammal. The former is fast being degraded thanks to
oil pollution and mangrove destruction and the latter is threatened
by plans to cut a new navigation channel through the Palk
Straits. Sanctuary has often pointed out that a nuclear
reactor and steamer channel threaten the tiger's Sunderbans
home. The Dhamra port in Orissa threatens the olive ridley
turtle. It took extraordinary effort to prevent shipping firm
P&O from harming marine breeding grounds at Dahanu in
Maharashtra, only to have another mega-port proposed at Umbergaon,
only a few kilometres to the north. People simply do not understand
that the consequences of marine degradation will be financially
ruinous for India.
Would you say that India even has a Marine Park management
plan in place?
Frankly, no. You cannot expect officers with terrestrial training
to suddenly evolve the skills to manage marine habitats. Our
staff needs to visit and interact with people who protect
areas like Australia's Great Barrier Reef, Baja in California
and Ras Mohammad in the Red Sea. Not only are policies laid
down there by marine biologists, but the laws are strictly
implemented without political interference. It is little wonder
then that you see thousands of barracuda, hundreds of dolphins
and turtles, pristine corals and unpolluted sands there, even
where tourism is allowed.
What could we do in places such as Wandoor in the Andamans
or Pirotan in the Gulf of Kutchh to bring about such positive
change?
I have a really long list. Keep oil away from Pirotan. Rotate
tourism in Wandoor by closing some areas for five years to
allow natural regeneration. Place curbs on fishing in and
around the reefs to allow dwindling fish stocks to regenerate.
In terms of dive tourism, charge a reasonably high fee from
each diver in the vicinity of protected areas, but use common
sense. If fees are prohibitive, unscrupulous dive operators
will exploit India's legendary propensity for bribes to 'cheat'
the dive location of any fee at all. Don't get ego-fragile;
ask for help to manage marine ecosystems from experts, if
necessary, overseas experts with more experience than we have.
They could, for instance, help the local authorities to establish
a system of mooring buoys so that no boats are allowed to
drop anchor on fragile corals.
Can local people ever benefit from coastal and marine
tourism?
Not if the business is left in the hands of people whose vision
is limited to converting sand and mangroves into cement and
concrete. Not if officials refuse to act when tour operators
and tourists deposit their pollution and garbage in paradise.
Not if hotels are allowed to 'mine' destinations and cut corners
by dumping raw sewage. Not if 'locals' merely means the local
politicians and their cronies.
How then can it be made to work?
It all boils down to that amorphous word, 'education'. If
people who live along the coast and on our islands can be
educated as to the value and worth of the areas in which they
live and if they can be guaranteed a part of the income that
comes from every single paying customer, limited, controlled
tourism might even play a positive role in protecting some
marine areas. But at this juncture, this seems to be wishful
thinking.
Tell me something more about sharks and your battle to
protect them?
I think all the money Spielberg made should now be devoted
to restoring the image of sharks. In all the world's oceans,
except where they are protected, their numbers have fallen
drastically, thus threatening several species. The tragedy
is compounded by the fact that they are hunted for their fins
(they are hauled on board, their fins sliced off and the sharks
then thrown back to die slowly). In India, most people don't
even eat shark meat as it has high levels of uric acid. But
because commercial fish species are in decline, they hunt
them for fins, which are exported (to thicken soups) often
at shockingly high prices.
Have you seen Mike Pandey's whale shark film?
Yes, it is one of the most touching documentaries of man's
shortsightedness that I have ever seen. Reefwatch has had
it translated for exhibition to local fisherfolk. The whale
shark story is too tragic for words. These gentle giants are
so easy to kill because they come up to the surface to warm
their bodies, oblivious to the danger from boats that come
right up to them and harpoon them. And the locals earn a pittance.
They could earn twice as much by just showing people the sharks
(the charges in Australia go as high as $500 a trip!). But
all this requires a considerably more proactive and sensitive
outlook than I can currently see on display by decision-makers.
So what lies in store for marine India?
I think my son Arnav presents the best answer to that question.
He is already a One Star diver at 13 years, the youngest Indian
to be certified (by another instructor as CMAS prohibits parents
from certifying their children). He has a very healthy respect
for the sea. He represents the new Indian, the generation
that will ultimately save or not save our seas. I have already
seen how his instincts are honed. He looks at the sea from
the boat and says, "Mom, there will be a lot of jellyfish
in the water, be careful." Sure enough, we encounter
thousands silhouetted against the light at the end of the
dive. "Today looks like a dolphin day," he says,
and true enough they appear as though on instruction. Children
like him understand that it is the fishing community that
has the first lien on the sea and together with them, they
will, hopefully, be able to do what we have failed to do…
protect the seas that surround us.
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