When our editor sent us word that our fellow reporting team, Chimeg and Timeaus, would be departing from India for a tour of the pacific islands by way of the coastal city of Akupara, I begged that we might have leave to send them off. My cataloger, Ren, and I had been in the Indian ocean, observing the behaviors of the ketea indikoi, which we will soon return to - but a chance to meet our friends and to see that famed city once again was not to be missed.
Named for the mythic world turtle of Indian lore which is said to hold the world upon it's back, the city of Akupara has risen out of a seemingly unfathomable balance between man and beast. Built upon the living shell of the world's oldest known world turtle, Mandara, the city has been growing in beauty and opulence in tandem with its host for over 3000 years. What Mandara's ancient eyes must have seen in the centuries that floated past her, one can only guess, but in seeing the calm in her weathered face, one can be sure she has looked upon them with the wise and unbothered way of turtles.
We arrived in Akupara a few days ahead of our friends, which was just as well, as I was looking for an excuse to explore. The bay surrounding Akupara is awash with World Turtles of every size - the smallest hurry by with passangers in open-air cabs, ferrying them from shore to shore for business or pleasure. Larger, barnacle-encrusted, turtles carry huts, houses, watch-towers, and even small shops, making something of a floating suburb in the waters surrounding Akupara. But the largest and oldest of the turtles no longer float - anchored firmly to the sea cliffs by their own means, they have become one with the rock and the outskirts of the great city are built atop them. Yet, even these monstrously sized turtles are dwarfed by Mandara, who sits enthroned in the center of her sheltered cove.
No one knows for certain how old Mandara is. We are told by the local turtle handlers, that most of the turtles they train are her offspring. Training for a World Turtle begins just after hatching - each baby is entrusted to a trainer who will bond with it for next few years. At age 3 the turtles will reach a ride-able size and will work as ferries until they are around 30 years old. At this point, the turtles are large enough to carry buildings. Between the ages of 150-200, long after their original handlers have passed, the turtles reach their final stage of maturity, and meld themselves to the sea cliffs to breed. Here they remain, growing continuously for ages to come.
As amazing as it is to watch man and beast live so intertwined, it is even more fascinating to see the wordless socializing of the turtles. From morning to night, there is a throng of turtles around Mandara's shell, bobbing their heads and swaying their fins rhythmically in a sort of dance.
"They are stopping by to say hello," explains Neela, our guide, and a turtle trainer of over 20 years, "they are all family, and the young turtles take great care to keep in touch with the older ones who are nested in the rocks - they will make their rounds to every one before the day is done."
Mandara returns her vistors' greetings with a slow bob of her massive head and a snort of her nostrils, sending water shooting into the air, showering the turtles, many of them carrying hapless passengers, with a friendly spray. But the people of Akupara take no mind of the turtles' slow lifestyle - a detour and an occasional soaking while making their way through the bay is expected and often welcomed. Many of the city's inhabitants are merfolk, like myself, living in underwater dwellings built onto the lower carapaces of Mandara and the other turtles. The aquatic nature of the upper city makes cooperation between land-dwellers and sea-dwellers especially beneficial, and many merfolk flock here to find work as turtle trainers and ferriers.
At long last, our friends Chimeg and Timeaus arrive at Akupara harbor. They have had a long trek across the Arabian Sea, but Chimeg, at least, seems energized by the bustle of the city. They had intended to travel by ship for the rest of their journey, but a little goading from the locals convinces them to try the trans-ocean turtle ferries - they are not as fast as traditional ships, but their instincts on ocean currents and storms makes them safer and more reliable. Our guide Neela finds them passage on a 112 year-old turtle named Pankaja, who was trained as a hatchling by her great grandmother.
"My mother and my grandmother were trainers, too," Neela tells us, "I see the turtles they trained everyday. Someday my children and grandchildren will depend on the turtles I'm training to get them home safely, so I take great care to train them right."
That sentiment seems to run through all the inhabitants of Akupara. Perhaps living in the shadow of such long-lived giants has had a humbling effect on the people here, or perhaps the slow lifestyle has given them ample time to contemplate the important things in life, but whatever it is, it is refreshing to see.
Unfortunately for us, we must press on. As Chimeg and Timeaus board their turtle ferry and set out to sea, Ren and I must return to our research in deeper waters of the Indian ocean. But the stay has done us all a bit of good, I think.
No comments:
Post a Comment