Abu's indefinite bandh day 3 completed.5 Oct 2018.

Demand to Release Building By-laws suppressed by the Government.

Day 3 Total Bandh ( Reminds me of the 60's after 6 pm during the monsoon period)

Protests in Mount Abu: Citizens United for the Release of Long-Pending Building Bylaws

Introduction:

Mount Abu has taken the stage in a historic turn of events, as its citizens demand that the government disclose long-suppressed building by-laws. For the previous three days, the town, hidden in the magnificent surroundings, has been totally shut down, with hotels, stores, restaurants, and even liquor shops remaining closed. Mount Abu residents, known as Abuites, have decided to go on strike indefinitely, sending an obvious message to the government that they've had enough of being ignored for years.

Background:

The origins of this protest may be traced back to a master plan shaped in 2016, which, despite being in existence, has yet to be implemented owing to the vested interests of powerful persons. The failure to adopt appropriate by-laws has left Abuites dissatisfied, forcing them to take matters into their own hands. Citizens apologise for any difficulty caused to visitors but stress that a genuine yearning for justice motivates their activities.

The Proposal for an Indefinite Strike:

Residents of Mount Abu have reached a breaking point, with many believing that the "powers that be" have pushed them around for far too long. The proposal for an indefinite strike is intended to bring attention to the government's inactivity and to highlight citizens' fundamental rights. It is a collective cry for justice and a call for the prompt execution of long-delayed construction by-laws.

Solidarity Pledge:

As word of the Mount Abu strike spreads, inquiries from all around the world have come in, expressing both curiosity and alarm. Tourists are being asked to deal with the inconvenience created by the inhabitants' requests for understanding and patience. The primary goal is to make an explicit statement: "Enough is enough."

Conclusion:

Mount Abu's courageous stance against the suppression of construction by-laws is a great example of residents banding together to defend their fundamental rights. The town has chosen unity and an indefinite strike to send a loud and obvious message. As Abuites continue to press for justice, the obligation is now on the state administration to address their concerns and implement the required adjustments that will determine Mount Abu's future.

Impact of post Monsoon on Mount Abu. [ 20/09/2018 ]

 Down to earth for Abuites.

Driving Down Abu Road

 Driving down Abu Road with Harry and Mohan, I stopped to take a photograph—Plummy cloaked in deep green, the dying sun casting its last glow across the hills. After the monsoon, Mount Abu seemed to have come back to life. The forests shimmered. A sense of freshness permeated the air. For a fleeting moment, the hill station looked invincible.

 But appearances in Abu are often deceptive.

 Year after year, the same old fear of water lies hidden beneath the beauty.

 The monsoons have retreated. The fruiting trees are preparing for the dry months ahead. The wildlife of the sanctuary—birds, langurs, bears, leopards, and countless smaller creatures—must now endure the long wait for the next rains. Nature adapts. Nature survives somehow.

 The question is: Will we?

 After the rains come reality

 By the end of September, the monsoon fades away, leaving behind only the occasional October shower. The streams weaken. The soil hardens. The green begins to dull. And almost immediately, the conversations begin again—water cuts, restrictions, shortages, uncertainty.

 The authorities now say the domestic water supply may resume soon, though under restrictions. Once every three days, perhaps. Maybe once every four if conditions worsen.

 And so the annual ritual continues.

 Every year, Mount Abu celebrates the monsoon as though the crisis has passed. Every year, tourists flood the hills, hotels overflow, garbage piles up, construction continues unchecked, and officials speak about development. Then summer arrives, and the panic begins all over again.

The Failure Nobody Wants to Admit

 The truth is uncomfortable, but we must say it plainly.

 Much of Abu’s water crisis is not natural—it is man-made.

 Reservoirs leak while repair work drags behind schedule. Water infrastructure remains outdated and neglected. Proposals for new dams, rainwater harvesting, desisting projects, and long-term conservation disappear into files and meetings, never reaching reality.

 Meanwhile, the population is rising. Tourist pressure grows heavier every year. Water consumption increases. Yet serious planning remains absent.

 The citizens of Abu have warned about this for years. They have written letters, raised concerns, suggested solutions, and pleaded for action. Yet, far too often, our actions have been reactive rather than proactive, offering short-term remedies instead of enduring resolutions.

 As I watched the sun disappear behind Plummy that evening, one thought kept returning to me:

 Will Mount Abu once again enter summer unprepared?

 Nakki Lake is not a dustbin

 And I have to mention something else.

 Please stop treating Nakki Lake like a dumping ground.

 Plastic bottles, food waste, litter, and unchecked tourist carelessness are slowly choking one of Abu’s most important lifelines. People pose for photographs beside the very water they help to pollute. Authorities speak of tourism, yet cannot enforce even basic civic discipline around the lake.

 Nakki is not a postcard attraction for weekend visitors.

 It is survival.

 When the hills dry out and the reservoirs shrink, Nakki becomes critical to Mount Abu’s existence. Polluting it is not just irresponsible—it is an act of collective self-destruction.

The Green Will Not Last Forever

Today, the hills are green. The forests still breathe with life. The mornings remain cool and forgiving.

But anyone who truly knows Mount Abu understands how quickly this changes.

The summer sun is coming. The forests will dry. Water levels will fall. Wild animals will struggle. Fire risks will rise. And once again, Abu will be left asking the same desperate questions it should have answered years ago.

The monsoon has given us another chance.

The real question is whether we will waste this one too.

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