Nicobar Narratives

 It was the morning of July 20, 2019, when the ship from Port Blair docked at Campbell Bay , the southernmost tip of India's Andaman and Nicobar Islands . Stepping onto the pathway, I felt the warm, humid air wrap around me like a gentle hug. It carried the fresh smell of the ocean mixed with rich earth. Great Nicobar Island , spreading over more than 1,000 square kilometers, seemed like a secret world, a vast, green paradise where time slows down to match the rhythm of crashing waves and whispering leaves. I was posted there for service, staying nearly two and a half years until early 2022. This time allowed me to dive deep into the island's stunning beauty, its unique wildlife, and the simple lives of its people. Yet, beneath this charm, natural risks like earthquakes linger, and now a massive project threatens to shatter this delicate balance. The island's tropical rainforest is its beating heart, a thick blanket of green that covers most of the land. Towering trees re...

 In the Andaman and Nicobar Islands , the fastest thing in government is not a ship, not an air ambulance, not even an internet connection. It is the speed at which names are changed. Old names fall like coconut trees in a cyclone; new names sprout overnight on boards, letterheads and Twitter bios. First came the airport. Once simply Port Blair Airport, it was renamed Veer Savarkar International Airport back in 2002, in honour of Vinayak Damodar Savarkar , who spent 11 years in the Cellular Jail . The new glass-and-steel terminal now proudly displays its upgraded identity, while islanders quietly calculate ticket fares the way cardiologists calculate risk. The “international” in the name gave the public hope; what actually went international were the airfares. Local leaders and activists have repeatedly raised the issue of unreasonably high ticket prices, poor connectivity and almost non-existent medical evacuation facilities, warning that critical patients struggle to get seats t...

 Welcome to the picturesque Andaman & Nicobar Islands, where the beaches shine, the coconuts fall in rhythm, tourists float in luxury, and the locals? Well, they’re navigating potholes, blackout schedules, and tanker water with Olympic-level patience. In this exotic dreamland, the administration has found its new obsession: not electricity, not hospitals, not bridges, but eco-resorts. Yes, because nothing screams “inclusive development” like a ₹391 crore luxury retreat at Long Island while the common man sits in darkness, fanning mosquitoes with old election pamphlets. As per the official vision, eco-resorts will bloom at Smith Island, Shaheed Dweep, Long Island, Aves Island, and Sri Vijaya Puram. With budgets ranging from ₹60 crore to nearly ₹400 crore, these will feature five-star rooms, wellness spas, water villas, and if luck permits uninterrupted power. Meanwhile, back in the real Andamans, the NVVN Chatham power plant has been shut down for “upgradation,” resulting in sch...

 In the tranquil yet vibrant tapestry of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands, Zubair Ahmed stood as a towering figure, a journalist whose words illuminated the shadows and gave voice to the unheard. His untimely passing on July 7, 2022, left an indelible void in the hearts of islanders and the journalistic community. As the editor of The Light of Andamans and a contributor to platforms like Being Islander, Zubair was more than a chronicler of events; he was a beacon of truth, a defender of justice, and a storyteller who wove the essence of the Andamans into his work. Today, in 2025, as the islands continue to navigate the complexities of development, identity, and preservation, Zubair’s legacy remains a guiding light, inspiring a new generation to carry forward his mission. Zubair Ahmed’s journalism was rooted in a profound love for the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. Through The Light of Andamans, a news magazine he revived alongside his mentor Govind Raju, and later through his independ...

Welcome to the Andaman and Nicobar Islands, where the monsoon rains drench our lush green shores and the electricity pulls a vanishing act faster than a street magician in a crowded bazaar. Power cuts, or as we lovingly call them, “bijli ka chhutti,” aren’t just glitches they’re our island legacy, as woven into our lives as fishing nets and coconut groves. The moment a raindrop dares to kiss those oh-so-modern underground (UG) cables, the lights flicker, the fans sigh, and we’re plunged into darkness. This is our story, a satirical splash through powerless monsoon days, written for you, our fellow islanders, who know the struggle all too well. When the monsoon clouds sweep in, turning our islands into a glistening, wet paradise, you’d think it’s time to brew some chai, fry pakoras, and enjoy. But hold that thought. The second a drop of water sneaks onto those fancy UG cables--poof! The power’s gone, like a guest who leaves without saying goodbye. Your fridge becomes a fancy cupboard, y...

Arre bhai, aaj hai World Earth Day! Time to wear that khadi kurta, plant a selfie with a sapling, and post “#SaveEarth” on Insta while sipping filter coffee from a disposable cup. One day to act like we care about Mother Earth, while our netas and babus play Khatron Ke Khiladi with forests, rivers, and turtles. It’s a proper Indian tamasha, full of drama, zero logic, and a big fat “chalta hai” attitude. Let’s take a look at how Earth Day has become a joke, with Hyderabad University’s jungle jhol and the Great Nicobar Island circus leading the show. First, picture this: Earth Day is like that annual family function where everyone promises to “stay in touch” but forgets by evening. Governments tweet about “green India,” corporates sell “eco-friendly” plastic bottles, and we feel good for switching off a light bulb for 10 minutes. But behind the scenes? It’s baap re baap level destruction. Our sarkar loves Earth Day’s photo-ops but also loves bulldozers, coal mines, and “development” that...