Education and Sports Secretary Frederick Roy Kharkongor remembers his father Ivan Roy and his bonding with nature and wildlife in West Bengal
ROBERT FROST’S words ring and echo with a poignant resonance in my ears: ‘The woods are lovely dark and deep/but I have promises to keep/and miles to go before I sleep…’
Intimately bonded with nature and wildlife, and enjoying a cherished association with trees and forests till he finally went to ‘sleep” on February 20 last year, my father, Late Ivan Roy, a 1969 IFS officer, spent the best days of his personal and professional life as a steward and nurturer of the greenery of West Bengal. As a child I have been truly blessed to have had a father, whose work and quiet passion took me to places that not only left an indelible impression on me, but in a way sowed the seeds of the wanderlust and itinerant spirit in me.
In the early years, after having been allotted West Bengal cadre, my father was initially posted to Chilapata range in North Bengal bordering Bhutan. His next was assigned to Kalimpong as DFO Soil Conservation Division, where he married my mother who was then teaching at the prestigious Tashi Namgyal Academy, Sikkim’s premier public school established by Chogyal, the then ruler of the erstwhile kingdom of Sikkim. From Kalimpong, he moved to the plains and was stationed at the bustling town of Siliguri for two years. Then just after I was born, he was assigned to Buxa Division at Rajabhatkhawa, famous for the Buxa tiger Reserve, from which point most of my memories originate.
In my growing up years, my earliest and most vivid memories of my father as a forest officer are at Rajabhatkhawa. I remember gleefully feeding countless bananas to the legendary pachyderm ‘Buxa Rani’, who it was believed also ferried Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose on her back. In fact, the iconic Statesman newspaper had even carried an obituary when the creature breathed its last. I remember, the majestic specimen would languidly stride across to the grand double storied colonial style DFO’s bungalow. As a child, I would toss numerous bananas into Buxa Rani’s open mouth… and the mahout would in very dignified tenor say: “Munna ko salaam karo”. Buxa Rani would gracefully raise its ancient trunk in salutation. That was a daily routine, which I thought was normal for other children too. I would often get quizzical looks when i asked other people what the names of their elephants were, only to realize much later that a forest child’s childhood was a shade ‘wilder’. There was no electricity then; halycon lamps were pumped to brighten the living quarters, diffused light streaming into the cool breezy embrace of the netted verandah outside, to the symphony of chattering crickets, vignettes which remain vividly etched in my memory till this day.
My father meanwhile would be coming in and out of the bungalow in his Wilys forest jeep accompanied by a retinue of range officers and forest guards for Project Tiger which was announced by Indira Gandhi to save the dwindling numbers of Royal Bengal tigers, followed by Project Elephant. I remember much later my father shared with me the near diplomatic complication that arose as the King of Bhutan, in hot pursuit of a tiger on one of his hunting sprees, had strayed into Indian territory into my father’s Division and the near diplomatic standoff that took place was sorted out by a stroke of diplomatic genius when it was discovered, not a moment too soon that the tiger had in fact ambled into No Man’s land which to everyone’s huge sighs of relief possibly helped avert any diplomatic ramification for the King and equally for the Indian side.
As a child of a forest officer growing up in those idyllic days, one of the most pleasant memories were the blissful stays in various forest bungalows, with its charming, cosy high-ceilinged comforts, clean beds and mouth wateringly delicious food in the midst of literally nowhere… an Arcadian experience at its best! Forest cooks whip up culinary delights of an altogether different level.
Chapramari rest house surrounded by a moat to prevent animals from coming in, with only a draw bridge as an entry and exit point remains a very thrilling memory. I remember my father calling me to the first floor verandah, a pair of binoculars in his hand, fingers to his lips motioning silence and a forefinger pointed in the direction of the salt pit ahead where a veritable Noah’s Ark ensemble of animals troop in… rhinos, deer, forest hogs, sharp-curved horned bison, herd of elephants, led by their matriarch would come to slake their thirst.. it was surreal, beguiling and mesmerizing that in today’s networked and wired world, I am achingly aware, that my children can only view on a distant Discovery or Nat Geo Channel.
Another memory I have is of Sevoke Rest House located on the banks of the frothy emerald green Teesta river that majestically snakes its way around the Himalayan foothills from Sikkim, where my father often halted before onward journeys. Sevoke for me will always be associated with a fracture I sustained, tripping off my father’s jeep… My father lovingly cradled me in his arms, with all his delicate care, holding my pain till we reached Siliguri for a plaster to set my foot right… His eyes were so gentle!
Then endless pleasant sunny days away from school at Halong, Bengdubi soaking in the winter sun amidst a carpet of orange peels, after devouring the vitamin C rich fruit, and getting enough calcium so that I could get back on my feet. The historic Kalijhora resthouse with a grand sit out overlooking the Teesta River below and famous for hosting tea for Jawaharlal Nehru, his comments on the visitor’s book remains a much viewed and thumbed page for all visitors. Not far away from the grandiose and regal British era Coronation Bridge, which now features on a recent Pepsi advertisement, the luxurious Mongpung Rest House with its pebbled walkways, situated on a lofty bank, with the pleasing gushing sounds of the Teesta below are few of the recurrent images along with memories of my father poring over some reports and numerous papers, containing all sorts of figures and drawings, and officious looking rangers and khaki clad forest guards, hovering in the background armed with sheaves of maps and contour plans, in the midst of which he would always take time off momentarily to raise a playful smile and glance at his little one, eyebrows arched and mischievously knitted in a manner only he could. It was like a gleam of gentle sunshine… later on my son, his grandson would be thoroughly amused at his grandfather’s expressions, astride on his lap on a safari jeep trundling its way across a stony, muddy jungle path on a family vacation in Kaziranga to spot the famous one horned rhinocerous.
Thanks to my father’s stint in West Bengal, I also recollect the few brushes we had with the glamour world too. The Amitabh Bachhan starrer Barsat ki ek Raat, and the fight sequence of the 70s angry young man with the villain Amjad Khan in the driveway leading up to the rest house and the excitement generated at witnessing the stars of the silver screen descend, notably the divine Rakhee and other big names. Then one afternoon, we found Papia Adhikari, the then leading lady of Tollywood, borrowing our room in Sukna rest house all decked up in traditional red Bengali bridal wear en route to marrying Tapas Paul the leading man who was essaying the role of a forest officer in a movie whose name I can’t remember.
What does come to my mind however is catching a glance of the ethereal Rakhee swathed in white, ensconced in an air conditioned ambassador car, waving regally at her fans and close by under arc lights, as it was evening, an animated Uttpal Dutt engaged in a heated exchange with a character playing a police officer… and a “goonda” the very picture of meanness rushing in and then the director calling out ‘cut’ in the backdrop of the orange hues of the setting sun streaming into the set.
At Darjeeling, where I started my schooling, my father was in charge of the Natural History Museum where I learnt for the very first time about the strange sounding word, taxidermist. I reminisce spending endless hours gazing at the very lifelike ferocious looking lions, tigers and wolves but feeling safe, nonetheless as they were firmly secured behind glass casings. I did accompany my father one night when a new exhibit came, the animals felt eerily alive, giving me goose bumps. Kurseong was sunny and pleasant with the office attached to the residence, so we got to spend much time together and see my father through the day, before I was packed off to boarding school due to disturbances ensuing out of the Gorkhaland agitation, when the hills were aflame… We did however get opportunities to make the occasional forays to the forest ranges located at the Himalayan foothills, as Kurseong lay somewhere midpoint between the towering hills and the sultry plains.
One visit to an elephant camp at the base of the twisty serpentine Pankhabari road stands out, when my wildlife enthusiast father took me along to visit the legendary ‘Lalji’ PK Barua the erstwhile Raja of Gouripur and famous elephant trainer and catcher, striking with his bushy white moustache and twinkling his eyes and his equally intrepid daughter, the slender slight Parvati Barua or the Queen of the Elephants as she was later made famous by Mark Shand, the brother of Camelia Parker Bowles, wife of Prince Charles, for the BBC. It was sheer delight to interact and witness the effortless ease and intimate understanding of the father-daughter duo in tandem stroking and talking with the pachyderms, and the wonderful episodes they narrated, while helping us climb atop a machan and onto a jumbo for a ride around their camp. The memory is priceless, only much later on did I learn that Parvati evolved to be a celebrated expert on elephants much written about and feted, as a UNEP awardee!
Sunderbans remains the jewel of the crown of West Bengal forestry, endless avenues of mangrove trees and man eating tigers and us onboard drifting across the Bay of Bengal on a forest launch, with the distinct feeling that a pair of stealthy and hungry eyes were constantly following our every move… and that we could end up as some creatures meal! I remember donning a brightly painted even garish facemask behind my head and armed guards on either end of the boat accompanying my father and him heading a team that was diligently engaged in counting the number of pug marks, one pug mark I distinctly remember, a fresh and glistening feline pug print on the damp mud… Then getting into a makeshift bridge entwined in metal and barbed wire leading towards a viewing point, to survey the area and back again into a boat through the inlet with a growing sense of trepidation, and into the safe embrace and cosy delights of the Forest launch with its delectable array of fish… fear slowly ebbing away.
As I write, memories of my father come flooding back of him supervising and monitoring bunds and check dams, counting rows of saplings, measuring the girth of trees, and him flashing a satisfied smile at seeing trees grow, for over two decades in known and unnamed locations across North Bengal as an unassuming quintessential quiet forester that he was.
My father then headed east to his native state of Meghalaya on deputation to the Ministry of Environment and Forest. His pioneering spirit was instrumental in contributing substantially to the establishment of the Regional Office of the MoEF in Shillong to oversee the implementation of various Forestry projects and as MOEFs steward to safeguard Environmental issues in the region. He also played an active role as advisor on environment for the North Eastern Council (NEC) on forest issues and later after retirement was appointed as the Forest expert on the Environmental Impact Assessment Committee.
He travelled often to the remote edges of the seven sister states, monitoring and inspecting environmental projects. My father recounted, that once on an aerial inspection, to ascertain the green cover of Arunachal Pradesh, close to the China-Arunanchal border, flying in an army bubble helicopter, unknowingly, the chopper they were travelling in, strayed ever so slightly into Chinese airspace, only to be greeted by a volley of Chinese gunfire from below, turning them all blue and crimson in their endeavour to spot out the green. He liked to call it his most “colourful” experience amidst the basket of cherished memories he had while embarking on his frequent forays into the enchanted frontiers of the North East.
On completion of his tenure deputation with the MoEF, he once again returned to West Bengal as CCF Social Forestry prior to his retirement in 1997. After retiring from government service, forests beckoned him again and on the invitation of his erstwhile colleague in West Bengal, S Palit, he assumed charge as assistant project coordinator of the Community Forest International (CFI) overseeing the establishing of the project in various clusters in Meghalaya and Manipur well until 2012. He contributed substantially to the development of the Khasi Hills REDD+ Project, a first of its kind watershed conservation project in Meghalaya’s East Khasi Hills district, which is poised to become the country’s first REDD (Reducing Emissions from Deforestation and Forest Degradation) project. Started in 2005, and initiated by the CFI with the active involvement of my father, along with the Mawphlang community leadership, covering an area of 8,379 hectares, the projects principle aim is not only to preserve the scared groves and other forest areas, but to safeguard the area as an environment hotspot by re-planting the surrounding land &checking de forestation.
The effort of the country’s maiden REDD pilot project is for encouraging developing nations to preserve their forests by giving an economic value to the carbon saved by halting deforestation. The area and the sacred grove in particular is in Umiam basin’s watershed area. Umiam lake is a reservoir in the hills about 15km from Shillong and fundamental in meeting Meghalaya’s emerging energy needs. The project continues to be envisaged as a pioneering initiative for arranging financial support for communities to engage in and to incentivize sustainable practises, for enhancing the green footprint and ultimately to empower the communities to be the most resolute defenders of their environmental heritage.
As a key member of the Asia REDD plus group, he participated actively as a key Resource person sharing his expertise with International participants for the Asia REDD Plus conferences at The Energy Resource Institute in New Delhi and Kathmandu, Nepal. In the formulation of the Project Idea Note for the Khasi Hills Community REDD project, my father played a pivotal role. The note was then submitted to the Scotland based Plan Vivo (a certification system for community based payments for eco systems services projects) in May 2011. It emerged as an innovative effort to develop a pro-poor, community focussed project designed to strengthen communities’ rights for the sharing of benefits equally-through payments for Eco-Systems Services, so as to restore and protect native and naturalized EcoSystems. The Plan was approved by Plan Vivo in August while my father was still associated with the CFI.
My father hosted the project in his home and guided a young team of eager foresters and communities till August 2012. Professionally, he passed on the torch in September 2012.
The communities he painstakingly guided have now become a movement and are now committed to reforesting 5,000 hectares of open forest over the next decade, while also establishing nurseries across the project area, which remains the highest tribute to a committed forester… who “kept his promises, travelled miles… So he can now peacefully sleep.”