In Tales of Hazaribagh, the author traces the history, politics, culture and, most importantly, geography of the Chhotanagpur plateau through his exploration spree fuelled by his passion and love for the homeland and its natural heritage, but above all, the necessity to fill up the hollowness created by depression with something greater than one’s self. The first chapter, Sanatorium, sets the stage for upcoming expeditions by illustrating the evolution of Hazaribagh, which was once a military station where ailing soldiers came to recuperate because of its “salubrious” climate. Once the author returns to his sanatorium, the book takes no time to indulge you in excursions to hills, lakes, rivers, waterfalls, forests and escarpments with exciting anecdotes.
In an instance, Mihir compares politicians and bureaucrats with villagers who have “placed stones neatly in straight lines to give a laterite path its borders”, concluding that although the villagers added new features, they succeeded in preserving the original character of the place “without a boastful signboard to codify their affection.” In another, he uses irony and satirical prose with a political edge to condemn ‘Sundarikaran’, a ‘sarkari’ concept that “does exact opposite of what beautification means, makes contractors rich and sundari-fied place poor.” At other times, the author embraces his inner child with a whimsical touch and uses his playful and charming writing style to keep the readers engaged, especially the readers who may not have access to Google Earth while reading the book for navigating roads, rivers and locating establishments and natural landmarks, like Gibraltar House, three lakes, Canary Hill, Tilaiya Dam Reservoir, Suraj Kund, Salparni Waterfall, Lugu Pahar, Gittikocha Waterfall, Rajhar or Motra, near which the author’s “sky skewed and the trees lifted as his friend and he crashed theatrically on the ground.” (Pun intended – grab your copy to get the joke!)
Mostly, Mihir offers a nuanced portrait of the plateau that is rich in detail, and it speaks to the heart with prose dipped in empathy, a sense of possessiveness and unwavering conviction. Apart from engraving complex layers of geography, the words plumb the depths of historical, political and social chasms to extract unique narratives of people’s contributions to events and activities, shaping the plateau into what it is today. Mihir establishes a strong bond with his readers through riveting and honest storytelling rooted in his undying curiosity, grit, perseverance and appreciation for the ecosystem, which is visible in every story and anecdote, whether it’s his ‘age-inappropriate’ friendship with Bulu Imam—environmentalist and cultural activist, him reaching out to a relative of John, who landscaped craters into lakes in the 1860s, or his interaction with an axeman who showed him the way to Nisanlagwa. You may forget the vividly drawn landscapes of Hazaribagh, but what you can never forget is the impact of the figurative and poetic language used to express critical views and experiences, including the one that resonates with me—returning to the centre of your being and finding the right direction from there on.
