Wildlife books for children

Tulika Books (www.tulikabooks.com) have just brought out my first two childrens' books. The first, Riddle of the Ridley is the saga of the olive ridley sea turtles that nest on the Indian coast. The olive ridley is the smallest of the seven species of sea turtles that exist today. Every year, an indeterminate number, perhaps exceeding two hundred thousand, migrate from the Indian Ocean south of Sri Lanka to the off-shore waters of Orissa on India's east coast. Here they climb ashore enmasse to lay their eggs on two or three select beaches. This mass nesting phenomenon is referred to as an ‘arribada’, a Spanish word meaning 'the arrival'. Sadly, during the last 15 years, tens of thousands of these gentle reptiles have drowned in the nets of mechanized fishing boats. Riddle of the Ridley chronicles the fascinating life history of these mysterious creatures, delves into the problems that confront them, and offers some solutions for their conservation. The book contains several unique photographs, and includes pictures by Bivash Pandav and Belinda Wright. Modestly priced, the books are available in English and several Indian languages.

The other book, titled Lai Lai the Baby Elephant is for younger children and has one photograph per page with one line of text. This is part of Tulika’s bilingual series and the text is also in Indian languages (English-Hindi; English-Kannada; English-Bengali etc.)

Scorpio woes - Public Response

In the 24 hours since I posted my last 'Scorpio woes' piece, this blog has received over 300 hits, and I think that's just great! Thank you! Given the generally uncaring attitude of Indian manufacturers, and the time it takes to get relief from the Consumer Court, the net is such a fantastic way of spreading the word around. A few more hundred hits, and perhaps Mahindra will sit up and take notice!

Scorpio woes - Major worry

One thing that really makes me uneasy about the Scorpio is that the vehicle is almost entirely controlled by electronics and sensors. I'm not quite sure how robust these are. If a sensor blows when one is deep in the jungle and mired in slush, it could mean an awful lot of trouble.

In the Scorpio ad on TV you see a vehicle buried under a snowdrift, and then this sexy babe appears in an helicopter (presumably from Customer Service) and clears away the snow with her rotors. Now, if only we could all get this kind of service....

Scorpio woes - The Verdict

So, a month on, what do I feel about the Scorpio? Well, teething problems and initial hiccups apart, my main grouse with Mahindra is that it appears as though most of the design effort has gone into how everything looks rather than on functionality, durability or reliability. Take the steering wheel for instance. It is very thick! In fact, it’s the thickest steering wheel of any vehicle I have ever driven, and I have driven quite a few, including Pajeros, Land Cruisers and Nissans. Even worse, the material with which the wheel is made is incredibly slippery. When you have the air conditioner going and your palms are dry, the extra thickness of the steering wheel, combined with its slippery surface, makes an unsafe combination. It’s downright irritating when negotiating city back streets and, I suspect, it could be deadly on a narrow and winding ghat road. Why did Mahindra make a steering wheel that goes against the norm? My guess is that they decided that a chunky looking vehicle should have a chunky looking steering wheel!

My other grouses are, in random order, as follows:

If you bend down and look under the vehicle from the front, you will see a guard similar to that seen in many other SUVs. Now, this is supposed to protect the front part of your under-chassis from boulders and bumps during off road driving. Only, in the Scorpio, this guard is not made out of strong metal, but of the most flimsy plastic. It’s laughable. I don’t expect it to last long where I’m going to be driving.

If you’re slightly on the heavier side, don’t stand on the rear bumper/footrest; it’s likely to break away – again flimsy plastic. So, if you want to clean the top of your vehicle, you will have to carry around a small stepladder or stool!

While you’re at the back, bend down and look underneath the rear-wheel arch. You will find a gap in the cladding. When you go through slush (or worse), the stuff that is thrown up by the wheels encrusts itself in your door and makes a sorry (and sometimes smelly) mess. The designers probably didn’t expect anyone to look too closely at their handiwork, but then you don’t really need x-ray vision to spot this.

The speaker ports in the cabin are a joke. They don’t accommodate any decent, standard size speakers. So learn to enjoy tinny music from small speakers.

The rubber through which the handbrake juts out is crude and already fraying.

The doors! Yes, make sure you tell everyone who climbs in and out of your car to treat them like they are made of glass. For God’s sake, don’t let anyone slam the doors! They are really lightweight. In fact, they feel far more delicate than those on a Maruti 800.

And of course there’s a substantial gap in the doors where they meet the body. Don’t look for a Qualis or Innova like seal.

The Air Con vents are ridiculous and I haven’t been able to adjust them to my satisfaction. Either the cold air is blowing right on you (very uncomfortable) or you have to turn the vent away from you (and on to the glass, which will fog up, or towards another passenger, who is hopefully wearing a fleece jacket). There is very little up and down movement possible. You have to live with side-to-side adjustments and hope for the best. Again, M&M have gone in for fancy looks rather than functionality.

The gearshift is a far cry from the one in the Qualis, but hey, that would be asking for too much.

There are all kinds of creaks and crackles emanating from within the cabin, which can serve to divert your attention from any (possibly serious) creaks and crackles that may emanate from outside the vehicle.

Now, this is not really an exhaustive list and not really a final verdict. I’ve only had the vehicle for a month, during most of which I have been preoccupied with major problems. I’ll be sure to post more comments when I’ve done my first road trip.

Do I have anything good to say at all? Well, the Scorpio does have some things going for it. The engine is quite refined and responsive. There is enough leg space (one of the few drawbacks with the Qualis), and the seats (at least the ones in front that I’ve tried) are comfortable, especially with some extra padding added by the seat covers. But is this going to be a reliable car that can take the rough with the smooth, or is this strictly a city slicker’s SUV, not meant for even semi-serious off-roading? I shall find out soon enough, I expect. I do miss my Qualis though. During the six years that I had it, I put it through some rough terrain that it wasn’t even meant for. Yet it did not break down even once. The car performed just as beautifully the day I sold it as on the day when I first turned on the ignition switch. Now, that’s what I call a great car. Mahindra engineers should take one apart and study it closely.

Scorpio woes - Part II

The blinking engine malfunction lamp problem had now put me on red-alert. What else was not working, I wondered. I had taken it for granted that the ‘Shift-on-the-fly’ 4WD system would work, without bothering to test it before taking delivery of the vehicle. After all, both the factory as well as the dealership had affixed a whole bunch of ‘OK’ stickers to the windscreen. And every vehicle is supposed to go through a rigorous PDI (pre-delivery inspection) before it gets to the customer. Well, there was just one thing to do – turn the switch and see what happened. My worst fears now came true – nothing happened. The 4WD light on the instrument panel started blinking. It is supposed to blink for 6 seconds and then remain steady. But the blinking wouldn’t stop, and there was no power being transmitted to the front wheels. The 4WD function, for which Mahindra charges more than one lakh rupees over the 2WD version of the Scorpio, was not working! So much for quality control and the PDI!

So back I went to the dealer’s service center. By now, I was truly pissed off, and trying hard to remain calm. At the garage, the vehicle was hoisted up, and an inspection revealed that a coupling had come loose. This was tightened and, this time, the front wheels got engaged when the 4WD switch was turned. How could a coupling be loose in a brand new vehicle? Anyway, it was time for a road test. The Works Manager took the wheel and we turned the switch to 4 Wheel Low. The blinking light continued to blink, and there was no change in the torque. The all important 4WD Low gear wasn’t engaging. Disappointed, I left the vehicle with the garage, to let them figure out what was wrong. Two days later, I was told that some parts had been ordered and that I could take the vehicle home and bring it back when the parts arrived. It turned out to be a long wait. By now, it was obvious to me that I wasn’t going to get anywhere if I didn’t bring some influence to bear. So I called up a Director of the dealership, who is a friend of mine (and a fellow conservationist). He swung into action immediately and made some calls. Suddenly, the situation improved dramatically! I was getting calls from the garage when, previously, my calls were going unanswered. I had now acquired a special respect. So all ye without influence, look before you leap!

To cut a long story short, over the next two weeks, the garage tried changing all kinds of small parts – a switch here, a fuse there – to no avail. Finally, they decided to change what is known as the ECU, a small flat box containing crucial electronics for engagement of the 4 WD. Taking out the old ECU and putting in a new one took only about five minutes. The result? Problem solved. Exactly one month after I had taken delivery of the vehicle, it finally worked the way it should have from day one. If I were Mahindra, I would hang my head in shame. I lost a month of travel time and was put through a lot of aggravation and frustration. But my loss is nothing compared to the company’s. During the time that I was having my problems, several friends, who noticed that I was driving a new vehicle, came over and asked excitedly, “so how’s your new vehicle”? Obviously, I told them exactly how it was. Two of these friends, one the vice chairman of a 400 crore company and the other the head of a large NGO, took this very seriously. I’m sure their next choice of vehicle for their respective organizations will not be a Scorpio. When will Indian companies realize that Indian customers should not be treated like beggars? When will they begin to realize that negative word-of-mouth publicity can be extremely damaging? My friends are likely to tell their friends and the ripple of news will spread far and wide. Who knows how many people will avoid buying Scorpios as a result? It would have cost Mahindra virtually nothing to fix my problem immediately, even if they had to fly in parts and a competent engineer from their factory. By not doing it, they have caused an incalculable loss to their company. Their top brass should ponder about this. Mr. Anand Mahindra should ponder about this. After all, it is his name that the company carries. (COMING NEXT: My overall verdict on the Scorpio).

Scorpio woes

Unlike most city people who buy a SUV for the impression it creates, I have a very mundane reason for buying one – I need it for my work. I travel all over India on wildlife and conservation related documentary film projects, and the cheapest and most flexible way of getting around with equipment and crew is a SUV.

A month ago, I reluctantly said goodbye to my trusty, six-year old Toyota Qualis and, on the recommendation of a knowledgeable friend, bought a Mahindra Scorpio 4 WD. I was both excited and apprehensive about this purchase. Excited because I was once again going to have 4 WD at my command, to go anywhere that I fancied; apprehensive because, after owning a Toyota, I had serious doubts about whether a Mahindra would stack up.

Unlike the typical SUV owner who cares a lot about how a vehicle looks, I actually don’t give a damn about appearance. The two things that matter most to me are reliability and comfort. I don’t want to have a breakdown in some remote location and I need to be comfortable traveling all day, everyday for weeks at a time.

My woes began at the time of booking the vehicle. My colour preference was green, but I was told that this colour had been discontinued. I was offered a choice of Silver (too conspicuous in the forest), Ivory Grey (a dark gray that would be ok in the forest) and Black. As it turned out, only black was really available, unless I was prepared to wait for weeks for the other colours. Like Henry Ford is said to have famously remarked to his marketing manager, Mahindra’s philosophy for 4WD customers seems to be, “you can have any colour you like, so long as it is black!”. Incidentally, two of my wildlifer friends, who bought Scorpio 4 WD vehicles before me, would also have preferred green, but had to settle for black.

I took delivery of my vehicle at 6 ‘O clock on a rainy evening. The people at the dealership were fastidious about doing the customary puja and tying a ribbon and balloons on the vehicle (which I politely declined) and, with a whole lot of other vehicles in the queue behind me waiting for delivery, I decided to make a quick exit. This was a mistake! Because soon after I turned onto busy Mount Road, I noticed that a warning lamp on the dashboard was blinking. I was on a one-way system and, what with heavy traffic and the rain, there was no question of doing a circular detour to get back to the showroom. So I drove on home, all the while wondering what could be wrong. On reading the manual, I discovered that the light that was flashing was an ‘Engine Malfunction Light’. “Never drive the car if this light is flashing” says the manual ominously. I called up the Mahindra helpline first thing the next morning, and the technicians were at my doorstep quite promptly. After fiddling under the hood for a while, they decided that the problem was water in the diesel filter (!). So the diesel filter was cleaned and put back, and my problem was declared solved. Indeed, the light did not flash anymore; not then. A few hours later, the blinking light was back. So, off I drove to the garage the next day. This time, they checked the electricals with their hand-held computer and discovered that an important relay was malfunctioning. This was replaced immediately and the problem hasn’t recurred since. But as I was soon to discover, there was worse to come (to be continued).

Chambal

Photo by Shekar Dattatri. All rights reserved

November 27-30, 2006

I remember looking out the window of the train from Madras to Delhi a long time ago, and seeing the Chambal ravines streak by – a stark but fascinating landscape notorious for it’s dacoit gangs. The Chambal River that runs through the ravines is home to the critically endangered gharial, the Indian sub-continent’s unique, long snouted fish-eating crocodilian. It is also a refuge for gangetic dolphins, marsh crocodiles and a large variety of fresh water turtles. Having always wanted to explore the river, I was pleased to get an opportunity to do so recently. Rom Whitaker, Chairman of the Gharial Multi Task Force, was attending a workshop on gharial conservation, which was being conducted in collaboration with the Jiwaji University of Gwalior and the Madhya Pradesh Forest Department, and I went along to provide video support during the field visits.

It takes about an hour and half by road from Gwalior to Rajghat, where the Madhya Pradesh Forest Department has 3 small boats moored for taking visitors on the river. The first thing that meets your eye as you board the boat is the rampant sand mining taking place on the opposite bank; dozens of tractor-trailers and huge trucks filling up with sand as quickly as possible and taking off on the highway to Delhi. The huge construction boom that India is witnessing means that demand for river sand is at an all time high. Sand mining is a highly lucrative business, and is apparently controlled by ruthless mafias who follow no quotas and brook no interference.

As you head downstream on a pleasantly chilly winter morning you start seeing crocodiles straightaway. A silhouetted gharial here, an open-mouthed mugger there, and fresh water turtles on either side, all basking on the banks to soak in the heat of the sun. A bed of reeds on the left provided glimpses of beautiful brahminy ducks, whose calls carried loud and clear across the water. As the boat forged ahead, a flock of over a hundred bar-headed geese took off, to alight further down the river on the bank away from us. There were also a few painted storks and a couple of sarus cranes. Just past the railway bridge, a lone gangetic dolphin surfaced for air.

Travelling downstream, the riverbank to the left comprises agricultural fields extending virtually down to the waterline. In places, the ravines slope right into the river and both the gradient of the bank and the human presence in the fields makes the left bank quite unattractive to the crocodiles, particularly the shy gharial. The right bank however has large expanses of flat and gently sloping sand banks that are perfect basking sites.

An hour into the journey, we reached a point known as Tigriratora, where half a dozen gharial and a few mugger could be seen basking. The gharial slipped into the water when the boat approached, but most of the mugger continued to bask unperturbed. Over the next couple of days we returned to this area and were rewarded with the sight of several large gharial (estimated size up to 16 feet for some), including a couple of mature males with a large gharas (the earthen pot-like protuberance on the snout that distinguishes mature males from females).

Tigriratora is one of the few traditional gharial nesting spots along the 420 km Chambal River. Yet, even here, the sand mining has started. We were told that it is not uncommon for the earth-moving machines to scoop up gharial eggs along with the sand at times. With large portions of the river banks naturally unsuitable for nesting by gharial, areas like Tigriratora are extraordinarily valuable and must be protected at all costs.

The Chambal River, even the little I saw of it, is absolutely bewitching. The ravines along its flanks lend it a unique, rugged beauty that I haven’t seen elsewhere. While other stretches of the river are apparently overrun by intense fishing activity, the 30 km stretch that we traversed was thankfully devoid of fishing nets. But I’m told that even here the fishing will start as the water level goes down. The Chambal may be remote to most of us, but close inspection revealed that human pressures are intensifying by the day.

Returning to Rajghat on the last evening, we were in for a surprise. On the steep slope of a ravine, a silver gray fox suddenly came into view. At first I thought he was looking for prey, but his purposeful trot had another reason. He made his way quickly to the top, to where a den seemed to be hidden, and suddenly pounced on another, smaller, male fox. A brief skirmish later, the smaller fox sprinted away. Janaki Lenin, who was also on the boat, managed to get some clear pictures of the first male. I’m pretty sure that this was the desert subspecies of the red fox, but someone more knowledgeable about foxes has to confirm this.

Monsoon

I noticed that the wind had changed last Sunday, when I went for my walk at the Theosophical Society. Until three days before, the wind had been blowing from the south. On Sunday, when I got to the beach, it was blowing from the east, strong and steady. Walking towards the Adyar river mouth, I noticed a couple of flocks of what looked like Kentish plovers. They hadn’t been there before, and had probably just arrived from their summer homes far to the North, perhaps beyond India’s borders. Each flock was about 50 strong and they were superbly camouflaged against the sand. In fact I only first noticed them when they took off. I could get to within ten metres of them, but any closer, and they would take off, wheel around and settle on the sand a little distance away. Unfortunately, the beach is littered with paper and plastic bits, and each time one of these pieces flew towards the birds, they would take fright. It was sad that they couldn’t rest in peace even when there were no humans to disturb them. The next day the wind changed again, this time blowing from the north. It was clear that the northeast monsoon had set it. The plovers were gone. They had probably stopped over on their way further south, to Point Calimere or Sri Lanka. There were other migrants in the estuary though; a small flock of black winged stilts. Twenty years ago, flocks of two to three thousand stilts were a common sight here in winter. Today the flocks have dwindled to the low hundreds. The toxins in the estuary will perhaps do these in too, not very far in the future.