Drive to Mahabaleshwar
It's actually only about 160 kilometres from Pune in Maharastra to Mahabaleshwar Hill Station in the Western Ghats, the western fringe mountains of the Indian subcontinent, but the journey is a long one. First through the typically chaotic city traffic in Pune, past the Ganesha Temple with a window in front of which the devotees standing on the street stretch out their mobile phones to take a picture of the statue of the god in the Sanctum Sanctorum visible from here. Past the lively street market, which Google Maps calls a "lively neighbourhood", a gross understatement. Below the Parvati Hills temple hill, out of the city into the suburbs and finally onto the motorway towards the mountains. As so often on our journey through the western Indian state of Maharashtra, they emerge quite suddenly from the haze and the road, which is still multi-lane, winds its way upwards with many steep hairpin bends. It takes us some time to overcome the difference in altitude between the plain of Pune and the plateau of Mahabaleshwar, metre by metre. When the road is finally free of gradients and bends again, we are about 600 metres higher than when we left in the morning and at the same time in a completely different world.
The plateau in the Western Ghats shows its prosperity and that of its inhabitants. In the past it owed its prosperity mainly to agriculture on fertile soil, later this area was a retreat and summer resort for the British. No wonder that the colonial power took possession of large tracts of land here and turned them into plantations or estates. The names on the pillars flanking the entrances bear witness to the former conquerors. Now the prosperity comes mainly from domestic tourists from Pune and Mumbai.
Back at the hotel in Pune, we were advised to try the local strawberries in Mahabaleshar, and now we realise that everything here revolves around strawberries. Everywhere they are piled up in small pyramids, offered by street vendors or sold in larger shops. They don't just sell the fruit, however, but also strawberry juice, strawberry jam and strawberry ice cream, with every conceivable form of processed and unprocessed strawberries on offer - a paradise for strawberry fans. When we ask for a break, the driver stops in front of a huge complex of buildings and we can't believe our eyes: it's a shopping centre for strawberry products, designed like a European garden centre, only much bigger. As well as the opportunity to visit the strawberry product factory, there is also a play park for children, an artificial waterfall, a food court and various other opportunities to spend your money on things other than strawberry jam. The way to the exit leads through a supermarket where the owner of this shopping paradise offers all his products for sale as private labels.
Our driver urges us to hurry, as he still has to drive all the way back to Pune in the evening. Unfortunately, from this point onwards the traffic comes to a standstill and the narrow roads with oncoming traffic can only be travelled at walking pace. Everywhere where strawberries are sold, cars park on the road for a quick shop, blocking the progress of others. Shortly before the actual town of Mahabaleshwar, a kind of "entry fee" is finally charged at a toll station, which is actually a sensible measure to reduce traffic, but here it also leads to a long traffic jam, with vehicles only making slow progress while honking their horns loudly. In the village, too, all the tourists seem to have got into their cars at the same time, and the small town has practically succumbed to gridlock.
We finally arrive at the hotel, a small resort with rolled lawns, an ice-cold pool and several bungalow blocks on a slope. After checking in, we explore the town and are amazed at the striking resemblance to European holiday resorts, e.g. on the Mediterranean: a huge crowd of people is milling around the small main street, which has been provisionally calmed with a metal barrier. In addition to the typical Indian street vendors, several somewhat larger shops offer the usual goods for the needs of tourists. Here they specialise in particular in warm clothing for the Indian city dwellers who freeze at high altitudes. They mainly come from Mumbai and Pune, but we also see many vehicles with licence plates from the state of Gujarat further north. We are simply overwhelmed by the mass of local tourists in this small town; an obvious sign of the growing prosperity of the middle class that has emerged in recent years.
The plateau in the Western Ghats shows its prosperity and that of its inhabitants. In the past it owed its prosperity mainly to agriculture on fertile soil, later this area was a retreat and summer resort for the British. No wonder that the colonial power took possession of large tracts of land here and turned them into plantations or estates. The names on the pillars flanking the entrances bear witness to the former conquerors. Now the prosperity comes mainly from domestic tourists from Pune and Mumbai.
Back at the hotel in Pune, we were advised to try the local strawberries in Mahabaleshar, and now we realise that everything here revolves around strawberries. Everywhere they are piled up in small pyramids, offered by street vendors or sold in larger shops. They don't just sell the fruit, however, but also strawberry juice, strawberry jam and strawberry ice cream, with every conceivable form of processed and unprocessed strawberries on offer - a paradise for strawberry fans. When we ask for a break, the driver stops in front of a huge complex of buildings and we can't believe our eyes: it's a shopping centre for strawberry products, designed like a European garden centre, only much bigger. As well as the opportunity to visit the strawberry product factory, there is also a play park for children, an artificial waterfall, a food court and various other opportunities to spend your money on things other than strawberry jam. The way to the exit leads through a supermarket where the owner of this shopping paradise offers all his products for sale as private labels.
Our driver urges us to hurry, as he still has to drive all the way back to Pune in the evening. Unfortunately, from this point onwards the traffic comes to a standstill and the narrow roads with oncoming traffic can only be travelled at walking pace. Everywhere where strawberries are sold, cars park on the road for a quick shop, blocking the progress of others. Shortly before the actual town of Mahabaleshwar, a kind of "entry fee" is finally charged at a toll station, which is actually a sensible measure to reduce traffic, but here it also leads to a long traffic jam, with vehicles only making slow progress while honking their horns loudly. In the village, too, all the tourists seem to have got into their cars at the same time, and the small town has practically succumbed to gridlock.
We finally arrive at the hotel, a small resort with rolled lawns, an ice-cold pool and several bungalow blocks on a slope. After checking in, we explore the town and are amazed at the striking resemblance to European holiday resorts, e.g. on the Mediterranean: a huge crowd of people is milling around the small main street, which has been provisionally calmed with a metal barrier. In addition to the typical Indian street vendors, several somewhat larger shops offer the usual goods for the needs of tourists. Here they specialise in particular in warm clothing for the Indian city dwellers who freeze at high altitudes. They mainly come from Mumbai and Pune, but we also see many vehicles with licence plates from the state of Gujarat further north. We are simply overwhelmed by the mass of local tourists in this small town; an obvious sign of the growing prosperity of the middle class that has emerged in recent years.
The Chandoli National Park near Amba
A few days later, we travel on to Amba, another hill station located near Chandoli National Park. From there, we take two jeep tours into the forest above approx. 750 metres. Many of the hills we saw on our journey are bare, but here the tropical monsoon forest is still standing. It is not entirely clear whether it is the original forest, there are no giant jungle trees and the undergrowth is not very dense. The region is part of the buffer zone of Chandoli National Park, which is located a little further north. The largest mammals are gaurs (called bison here), but there are also wild boar, deer, pangolins (pangolins) and giant squirrels. The locals even tell of encounters with leopards. We are obviously too late for the morning drive to the waterhole as we don't see any animals, but on the way back two gaurs cross the road directly in front of us and slowly eat their way through the forest next to our jeep. The day before, our guide had picked up a bright green snake from the bushes next to the road - we identify it as "semi-venomous" in the forest museum in Amba.
The nature surrounding the village is overwhelming, even if the forest is not actually very different from a European natural deciduous forest.
But despite the impressive nature, even in the national park, Indians have a habit of disposing of their rubbish without a second thought. The next day, for example, when we are in the jeep on a trip to the nature reserve, an empty chip bag flies from the platform on the roof of the jeep into the ditch, along with the empty plastic bottles and loads of other rubbish that is already lying there and not rotting. After all, you are at a vantage point.
Members of the emerging Indian middle class are becoming mobile, travelling by car on holiday and exploring their own country. I always ask the people who want to take a photo with us where they come from. Some are puzzled, even though they have just asked us the same question, and answer "India", so I ask more specifically "From which state?" and the places are sometimes several hundred kilometres away. These long tourist journeys with the (extended) family generate turnover and investments. I learn that the first resorts in Amba were only opened around 10 years ago, and that their number has now grown to around 40. Domestic tourists are leaving money behind. The length of their stays is short and we realise that many families move on after one or two nights, but local tourism is booming. Tourists book as many events as possible during their stays to make the long journey worthwhile. This means that the sights are usually very crowded, fuelled by the Instagram machinery. And it also means that people carelessly leave their rubbish everywhere. At some well-known places the rubbish is disposed of, at these tourist hotspots we see women sweeping the paths and collecting the rubbish, but on the access roads to the car parks and in less prominent places there are often large amounts of rubbish in the bushes. Even at the waterhole in the middle of the nature park, there is a carpet of empty bottles on the surface at the outlet of the lake. You can't even imagine what it looks like at the bottom of the lake. Why do people treat their environment so carelessly? Why do the information and education measures of the government and environmental organisations do nothing?
Even if only a small percentage of people do not dispose of waste, the non-decomposable waste accumulates from the sheer number of people who visit the excursion sites, creating a massive problem. As much as we recognise that Indians are enjoying their emerging prosperity, we wish they would not make the same mistakes that were made in Europe during the post-war boom. Here, too, people started travelling. They consumed, bought cars, became mobile. Many rivers and bodies of water were also massively polluted here, but the packaging was not yet mainly made of plastic, so it decomposed better. We also built motorways and improved existing infrastructure so that prosperity was not limited to the cities but also reached the flat countryside. Only later came the sewage treatment plants and more rigorous environmental legislation.
The nature surrounding the village is overwhelming, even if the forest is not actually very different from a European natural deciduous forest.
But despite the impressive nature, even in the national park, Indians have a habit of disposing of their rubbish without a second thought. The next day, for example, when we are in the jeep on a trip to the nature reserve, an empty chip bag flies from the platform on the roof of the jeep into the ditch, along with the empty plastic bottles and loads of other rubbish that is already lying there and not rotting. After all, you are at a vantage point.
Members of the emerging Indian middle class are becoming mobile, travelling by car on holiday and exploring their own country. I always ask the people who want to take a photo with us where they come from. Some are puzzled, even though they have just asked us the same question, and answer "India", so I ask more specifically "From which state?" and the places are sometimes several hundred kilometres away. These long tourist journeys with the (extended) family generate turnover and investments. I learn that the first resorts in Amba were only opened around 10 years ago, and that their number has now grown to around 40. Domestic tourists are leaving money behind. The length of their stays is short and we realise that many families move on after one or two nights, but local tourism is booming. Tourists book as many events as possible during their stays to make the long journey worthwhile. This means that the sights are usually very crowded, fuelled by the Instagram machinery. And it also means that people carelessly leave their rubbish everywhere. At some well-known places the rubbish is disposed of, at these tourist hotspots we see women sweeping the paths and collecting the rubbish, but on the access roads to the car parks and in less prominent places there are often large amounts of rubbish in the bushes. Even at the waterhole in the middle of the nature park, there is a carpet of empty bottles on the surface at the outlet of the lake. You can't even imagine what it looks like at the bottom of the lake. Why do people treat their environment so carelessly? Why do the information and education measures of the government and environmental organisations do nothing?
Even if only a small percentage of people do not dispose of waste, the non-decomposable waste accumulates from the sheer number of people who visit the excursion sites, creating a massive problem. As much as we recognise that Indians are enjoying their emerging prosperity, we wish they would not make the same mistakes that were made in Europe during the post-war boom. Here, too, people started travelling. They consumed, bought cars, became mobile. Many rivers and bodies of water were also massively polluted here, but the packaging was not yet mainly made of plastic, so it decomposed better. We also built motorways and improved existing infrastructure so that prosperity was not limited to the cities but also reached the flat countryside. Only later came the sewage treatment plants and more rigorous environmental legislation.
India's transformation
The same transformation can now be seen in India: if you drive through the vast country by car, you pass road construction projects underway everywhere. Wide swathes of land are being levelled, and the existing buildings are not being treated gently: you often see houses split down the middle, with the half facing the road already demolished. The gaps in the remaining houses have been provisionally bricked up. In many medium-sized cities, elevated trains ("metros") are being cloned in a pragmatic way, while the metro network in the largest cities is being rapidly expanded. Existing "national highways" are also being upgraded, completely new long-distance connections are being planned and these projects are actually being implemented at record speed. Since I travelled the country for the first time around 15 years ago, travel times by car have been drastically reduced. As personal anecdotal evidence, I would like to cite the travelling time between Bangalore and the old Mysore residence: In 2009, a taxi ride took me more than 4 hours, the road was miserable, more of a track with potholes than a real road. I travelled the same route again in 2019, most of the highway has now been widened with two lanes in each direction, but just before Mysore there were still a few kilometres to go. But the journey time had been significantly reduced to around 2.5 hours.
You can feel the spirit of optimism everywhere, so it's no wonder that in a global comparison of countries in 2023, the inhabitants of India were the most confident about the future (86% of Indians are "generally optimistic about the future of their country", according to a study by the European Council on Foreign Relations ECFR, 2023). The country is booming, money is obviously available and is being invested. It is possible that far too many funds are still seeping away in the web of relationships between political clients and private contractors, and the corruption rate in India remains high. Nevertheless, the projects mentioned are being implemented and citizens are benefiting from them.
In 2023, it was announced that the Indian airline IndiGo would like to order 500 aircraft from Airbus. The largest single order to date for the aircraft manufacturer is also a further indication of the rapidly increasing demand for mobility within India. IndiGo is a low-cost airline that mainly operates routes within India. It can be expected that the Indian middle class will be travelling across the country on these new aircraft in the future.
All these examples show that prosperity is increasing in India. It is possible that growth will initially be limited to certain sections of the population, while others, such as the huge army of agricultural labourers, will probably remain left behind for the foreseeable future.
People in the former "developing and newly industrialising countries" can and must be allowed to enjoy their still modest prosperity. Should they be told how to deal with the resources that previous generations of the "western world" have already exploited and overused? There are certainly signs in India that they are not going down the same path as the "West" did 70 years ago. There are wind turbines, huge solar farms and even small local solar panels at private homes. There are adverts on TV for e-scooters and electric SUVs, and you often see green number plates on the roads, the sign that these are electric vehicles. Even the ubiquitous "auto-rickshaws" are now available in an electric version. India has skipped some of the development steps that were taken in the West at the time and is certainly willing and able to utilise modern, contemporary technologies. But the sheer number of inhabitants and the enormous population growth as well as the exploding numbers of the new middle class, which wants to enjoy the prosperity it has acquired, all this seems to be thwarting all efforts towards resource-conserving development.
While travelling through Maharashtra, we saw many promising approaches to India confidently going its own way. The journey from Pune to Mahabaleshwar and Amba brought together the many positive and negative impressions that characterise the image of modern India for us. We hope that the positive approaches will prevail in the long term, so that the hopes of India's inhabitants for a better future will be confirmed. It is to be wished for them.
Translated from German by DeepL (www.deepl.com)
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