Amidst snowstorms and frozen rivers

There were frozen rivers and miles of snow-clad countryside all around, dotted occasionally by a few buildings. There were no people to be seen, giving an eerie feeling. Every few miles we would get into a snowstorm, recalls Dinesh Kumar

IT was a piece of luck. On a teaching fellowship in Norway, I was called upon to accompany a group of students to the north of the country, to study the environment in the Arctic. It was a special event: everyone was excited to see how an Indian would cope with the extreme climate and living conditions. "The country is quite different there," I was told. They might well have added that it would be almost like being on a different planet, the land where the sun was up even at midnight, where everything was unlike anything that I have experienced before.

The train journey from Oslo was long but it was neither tiring nor unpleasant. The trains were well equipped, the people friendly. We passed through valleys and fjords (narrow inlets of sea between high cliffs), farms and cities, and got a glimpse of Norwegian life. The students had devised a game of spotting natural features and that kept them busy during the journey. We reached Trondhiem after a day’s journey, a city in the north, where we changed trains. Another 16 hours of journey awaited us. When I went to sleep that night, I was little prepared for what I was to experience in the morning.

I was awoken by a jolt and was dazzled by the sight outside. I was suddenly in National Geographic country: everything was covered in snow. Near the train, a reindeer and his family walked away. The train had, in fact, stopped for the reindeer to cross the railway line. For the next few hours, I was mesmerised by the landscape. Frozen rivers, miles of snow-clad countryside broken occasionally by a few buildings. There were no people to be seen, giving an eerie feeling. Every few miles, we would get into a snowstorm.

"Just thin, it is summer," said an American student who came to talk with me. She was going further north to study the lifestyles of the traditional people, the Samis. Like me, she was hypnotised by the sight outside. We could spot a few reindeer outside but everything else was bleak and white. What would happen in winter?

"The train is heated and we have lots of food," said the train attendant, as if reading our thoughts. "There are times when we get stuck because of the snow, so we have to be well prepared." Indeed, the train had everything one might need in case of an emergency.

Throu-ghout the journey, the driver lets us know what to see outside through the public address system. The train slows down when we cross the Arctic circle: small pyramids have been made to mark the spot. At Tromso, where we get off the train, we get caught in a snowstorm. We buy food and after a brief break, get on a ship to take us to Rost. We have taken a house on rent for the stay.

The students prepare their rooms and make food for themselves. We are on a small island. There is no television and no shops. For all practical purposes we are away from civilisation, which is one of the objectives of the trip.

We take the boat for our environmental trips. Each day we discover the wonders of the Arctic. The landscape consists of islands breaking the ocean. There is not a single tree to be seen. Birds rule the islands where few men wander. We discover ecology untouched by humans — birds feeding on fish, then taken to heights, where bird droppings provide soil on barren rock, clothing it with tufts of grass. We are in the land of the midnight sun. The students are enthusiastic and climb the cliffs with spirit.

Overhead, there is a unique sight — the sun starts moving backwards just as it is overhead. As it is about to set, it begins to rise again. At midnight, it is still shining. We pull curtains to be able to sleep. In winters, all you see of the sun is a light in the sky for a few hours!

The students go on fishing expeditions and collect samples. The excitment is infectious. Outside, it is terribly cold and we have to clothe ourselves well whenever we go out. We also discover the small community life of this fishing village. Everybody knows each other and nothing is hidden.

We discover that the community centre is a coffee house run by an Indian! The couple from Punjab manage everything and is a focal point of life at Rost. They are only too pleased to see me, since few Indians are seen in those parts. It is a unique experience, finding your country and speaking the language you have almost forgotten, eating Indian food in this remote place from where one can only see the ocean.

The journey to the Arctic is an eye-opener in more ways than one. Here are people living in hostile terrain, with few opportunities. But there is not one complaint to be heard. One can live anywhere, but people choose to be here because it gives them a sense of self-satisfaction of doing something. The joys are simple and the activities limited to fishing and other community ventures. The young, of course, go to the cities. One does not hear very much of western culture here, for television and music do not dominate the life. Further north, I am told that things are still different. One discovers that even in the West there are places which may well be a small village in Punjab. Who needs modern culture?

I return from the trip with a sense of achievement. The bond generated among the students and the teachers, while learning the ecology of the Arctic, has been something that I could not have imagined even in my wildest dreams!