Skip to main content

" The Curious Case of the Andaman & Nicobar Islands: Where Governance Dives Deep, But Solutions Stay Afloat"

Ah, the Andaman and Nicobar Islands—an archipelago of beauty, history, and...well, administration. If there’s ever been a place where the phrase “water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink” hits home quite literally, it’s here. The islands, surrounded by the azure waters of the Bay of Bengal, are famed for their diving spots, exotic beaches, and now, perhaps their bureaucracy that spends more time underwater than above ground (in more ways than one).

The Andaman and Nicobar Administration, affectionately (or sarcastically) referred to as the Yes Sir Administration, seems to have developed a rather curious relationship with the Central Government. They say the islanders’ issues are too "complex" to solve, which must explain why the focus has shifted to breaking Guinness World Records. And not for roads, water supply, or basic utilities mind you—no, for scuba diving, of course. Because nothing says “good governance” like setting records for diving deep while letting pressing issues float aimlessly on the surface.

Take the matter of drinking water, for instance. You’d think an island would have this sorted out by now, but no. Every summer, as taps dry out, islanders contemplate whether it’s faster to wait for rain or catch a flight to the mainland. Alas, even air travel isn't as easy as one might think—because, have you seen the ticket prices? For islanders, flying off the islands seems to require the budget of an international vacation, except they’re only trying to get to Kolkata, not Paris. Road connectivity, too, remains a work-in-progress project that might need more Guinness records of patience than public effort.

The "roads" (if we can call them that) are less of a means of travel and more of a test of endurance—dodging potholes might as well be added as an Olympic sport. It’s almost as if the administration has set a new challenge: if you can survive the journey without damaging your vehicle, you’ve won. Who needs a waterway when you have roads that make you feel like you're white-water rafting?

And let’s not forget the dream of a bridge connecting Bamboo Flat to Chatham. Islanders have been hoping for it for years, a simple structure that could make life easier. But instead, what we really need is a bridge—no, not across the waters—but between the Yes Sir Administration and our lone Member of Parliament. Now, that would be an architectural feat!

You see, the MP, bless his soul, seems to have gone missing in action, lost in his own mishaps. Apparently, he’s a man on a mission, only working for those who actually voted for him. Word on the street is that he’s got a special pass from the Election Commission of India to personally check individual votes. We imagine him flipping through a voter list, frowning at those who didn’t mark his name and thinking, “Well, no help for you!”

Meanwhile, back on land, the island’s ruler, a figure we assume is either too busy developing the next tourist attraction or recovering from a weekend at Cinque Island, is seemingly a master of evasion. If you’ve never seen him, don’t worry—neither have most of the locals. His meetings with the general public appear to be a mythical event, whispered about but never confirmed. Who knew governing an island could come with so much secrecy? Maybe he’s too busy snorkeling through files or, perhaps, scuba diving through paperwork.

And let’s not forget the crown jewel of leisure—Cinque Island. The place where top officials go to “develop” the next tourist spot (and by develop, I mean sip a beverage while working on their tan). Rumor has it, meetings about island issues like electricity and water are held here—though no one can quite recall the last time the ruler actually sat with the locals to discuss these problems. But hey, at least Cinque Island is being developed.

So, here we are—an island paradise where tourists enjoy crystal-clear waters, where bureaucrats break world records, and where the real problems—drinking water, electricity, boat issues—continue to float in an unsolvable limbo. The Andaman and Nicobar Islands may be a paradise for some, but for the residents, it’s starting to feel more like a puzzle, where all the pieces are there but the administration is busy using them to build a new scuba diving set instead.

Who knows, maybe the next Guinness record will be for the most unsolved island problems. That, at least, would be a dive worth watching! And maybe by then, we’ll have a bridge—not across the waters, but across the endless gap between the leaders and the people.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Zubair Ahmed: The Pen That Refused to Bow

Remembering an Islander who taught us to question, remember and belong. Some people leave behind monuments of stone. Others leave behind institutions. A few leave behind words that continue to breathe long after their voices have fallen silent. Zubair Ahmed belonged to that rare fraternity whose legacy lives not in buildings or titles, but in sentences that still echo across the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. The seventh of July is not merely the day the Islands lost a journalist. It is the day Andaman lost one of its finest storytellers, one of its fiercest questioners, and perhaps one of the last chroniclers who understood that journalism is not merely about reporting events, it is about preserving the soul of a place. For those who knew him only through his byline, he was a journalist. For those who read him regularly, he was an educator. For many young Islanders, he became an unofficial historian who reminded them that Andaman was far more than beaches, tourism brochures and governme...

GB Pant : The Hospital that Carries Five Lakh Heartbeats

There is a famous saying in India: “Health is wealth.” In Andaman & Nicobar Islands, however, the updated government version seems to be: “Tourism is wealth… health can wait.” Welcome to GB Pant Hospital, Port Blair - the grand old warrior of the islands. Established in 1963, this hospital has spent nearly 63 years carrying the healthcare burden of almost five lakh islanders. One building, one overburdened system, one exhausted backbone trying to keep an entire archipelago alive. And honestly, if walls could speak, the walls of GB Pant Hospital would probably say: “Bhai, mujhe bhi retirement do.” The hospital stands today not merely as a healthcare institution, but as a living archaeological monument. Some sections look less like a modern medical facility and more like a government structure preserved from the black-and-white Doordarshan era. Paint peeling, ageing infrastructure, leaking corners, rusted frames, yet inside these tired walls, doctors continue performing miracles ever...

The Andaman Airfare Heist.

In most of India a man can still choose his misery: train, bus, car, or flight. In the Andaman and Nicobar Islands the Bay of Bengal has thoughtfully cancelled every option except one. No train to Chennai, no bus to Kolkata, and the passenger ship takes three full days when it bothers to appear on the schedule. For a medical emergency, a college admission, or a funeral, the ship is about as useful as a bicycle in a cyclone. So the islander is left with the aeroplane. And the aeroplane, fully aware that it is the only show in town, behaves exactly like a landlord who owns every flat in the city and has just discovered dynamic pricing. Open any booking site in August 2026 and watch the performance. Near-term Chennai–Port Blair tickets sit smugly between ₹16,000 and ₹19,000. Book a little earlier and you might charm it down to ₹10,000–₹12,000. Leave it late, or simply exist on a busy day, and the fare does a full naagin dance, rising by two or three thousand rupees between refreshes. The ...