Far away in another world, a huge preservation enterprise is underway.
In AlUla, a unique cultural landscape located in north-west Arabia, considered a living museum that holds 200,000 years of largely unexplored human history, a multi-pronged rejuvenation effort has been launched recently.
Five unique districts, connected by a 20 km-long public realm called the Wadi of Hospitality, will protect 200,000 years of natural and human history across the 20 km-long core historical area of AlUla. The site includes vast desert landscapes, preserved tombs, sandstone outcrops, historic dwellings and monuments, both natural and human-made.
Developing a desert environment, which is a fragile source of life, is not easy. But a master plan has included the rehabilitation of many million square metres of green and open spaces, and the measured introduction of wildlife and bird populations into the area. This measure will repopulate a land denuded of wildlife and flora by increased desertification.
Makes one wonder on reading this why we cannot do the same.
It’s no secret that Indians too can boast of rich natural and man-made bounties. Whether it is the ice age rock formations that create impossibly balanced, towering shapes in the Deccan, or the deep ravines of Chambal, the swirling sands of the Thar or the rushing waters that stream out of Himalayan glaciers to sweep across the plains, we have enough and more of natural wonders.
When it comes to man-made ones, we can start, of course with the Taj, and its sandstone replica in Aurangabad, and add the whispering Gol Gumbaz, the shaking towers of Ahmedabad, the iron pillar of the Qutub, the stone marvels of Ellora and Hampi, our forts and countless, newer creations like the imposing Chhatrapati Shivaji terminus in Mumbai.
Every city, town, village has something that whispers about history; blending myth with craftsmanship, the past with the present. How often do we walk casually across a swinging bridge that has seen generations before us pass the same way? And who knows when the first stone steps leading up a hill were cut, by what rough means that depended solely on the strength of the hands wielding the rough tools.
It’s not that no efforts are made to preserve the heritage. Not so long ago, Uttarakhand’s 150-year-old Gartang Gali bridge was restored, by workers who worked precariously hanging at 11,000 feet above the drop into the valley below. Despite strict rules for those using the bridge, within a few days, tourists had carved their names on the wooden rafters! Not a thought spent on the fact that they were defacing something so much older than themselves, something that had stood the test of time.
We take it all for granted. Our idea of enjoyment is to make merry with music and selfies, and to leave a lingering memory of ourselves by carving our names or leaving behind wrappers and empties.
Unless we change and learn to respect what our forefathers have left for us, we will erase our own histories. How then will future generations know who they really are?
Sathya Saran
saran.sathya@gmail.com
Author & Consulting Editor, Penguin Random House