Blog Details
- Member
- August 2, 2025
The Arches of Sunrakh Bangar
The dust of Sunrakh Bangar, fine as a potter’s clay, swirled around Raj Prakash’s boots, coating
them in the color of the earth he was meant to be serving. He knelt and let a handful of the soil
sift through his fingers. To him, this wasn’t just a construction site for a new high-voltage
transmission line; it was a canvas being defaced. Raj, a structural engineer by trade and a
romantic by nature, saw only a violent, angular scar marching across the ancient face of the
land.
His superior, Alok Sharma, a man with a mind as unyielding as the steel he commissioned, saw
only progress. For him, a pylon was a pylon: a means to an end, a number in a budget, a tick on
a timeline. Aesthetics were a luxury he couldn’t afford, a distraction he couldn’t tolerate.
“Raj,” Alok’s voice, a gravelly monotone, cut through the quiet. “Your drawings. They’re...
creative. But we need to build, not innovate.”
Raj unfolded a blueprint, the ink still fresh, detailing an arch-based tower. He had drawn
inspiration from the swooping curves of a temple roof in the distance, from the natural elegance
of an eagle’s wing. “Sir, imagine towers that curve gently, that frame the horizon instead of
stabbing it. We can still achieve the same structural integrity, perhaps even better, by using
compression more efficiently.”
Alok simply shook his head, the motion as dismissive as a foreman swatting a fly. “Beauty
doesn’t transmit electricity, Raj. Efficiency does. And we’re sticking with the tried and tested
lattice design.”
For weeks, Raj felt like a stranger in his own project. He spent his evenings not in the company
of his colleagues, but in the company of Mrs. Devi, a village elder with eyes as old and wise as
the banyan tree she sat beneath. She spoke of the land’s history, of the delicate ecosystem, and
of the Indian Spotted Eagles that had nested here for as long as anyone could remember.
One evening, as the sun bled orange across the sky, painting the clouds in impossible hues, Raj
watched an eagle soar overhead, its wings forming a perfect, effortless arch. A design, a
solution, a story began to take shape in his mind.
He returned to his sketches with a new fervor. He wasn’t just designing a tower; he was
designing a home. His new concept featured a wide, arching base that would provide a stable,
wind-resistant foundation while lifting the electrical lines far above the eagles' flight paths. It was
a compromise, an elegant solution to both a utilitarian problem and a deeply human one.
He showed the design to Alok again, not as a matter of aesthetics but as a matter of necessity.
"Sir, the current design will disrupt the eagles' nesting grounds. This is an ecological disaster in
the making. My arch-based design gives them the clearance they need. It's a functional
adaptation, not an artistic one."
Alok, a man of rules and regulations, was unmoved. "We have our clearances. Stick to the
plan."
The clash of wills came to a head at a village council meeting. Alok presented the approved
plans, citing costs and efficiency. The villagers, though a practical people, were swayed by Mrs.
Devi’s heartfelt plea for the eagles. The meeting became a standoff between the logic of the
balance sheet and the passion of the heart.
Just as the vote was about to be cast, a ferocious, unseasonal dust storm descended upon
Sunrakh Bangar. The winds howled, turning the air into a chaotic maelstrom. In the sudden
chaos, one of the newly-erected lattice towers—a structure built on a rushed schedule and with
a flaw Raj had quietly pointed out—buckled and collapsed with a sickening groan. It was a
brutal, physical demonstration of the flaw in Alok’s relentless pursuit of efficiency at all costs.
Silence fell in the wake of the storm. The villagers, shaken and terrified, looked not to Alok, but
to Raj. Mrs. Devi’s voice cut through the stillness, as clear and sharp as a temple bell. “The
straight lines fell. The arches, they would have held.”
Humbled and under immense pressure, Alok agreed to a compromise. The project would be
temporarily halted and Raj would be given the resources to refine his arch-based designs. He
worked tirelessly, proving with hard data that the elegant, curving towers, though more complex
to build, would be stronger, more resilient to wind, and ultimately, more cost-effective. He even
incorporated subtle design cues from local artistry, ensuring the new towers felt less like an
invasion and more like a part of the landscape.
The final phase of the project was a hybrid. In less sensitive areas, the efficient lattice towers
still stood. But near the eagle nesting grounds and along the most visible stretches of the
horizon, the new arch-based pylons rose. They were monuments not just to engineering, but to
a newfound respect for beauty and nature.
Alok, though he would never admit to a romantic streak, saw the wisdom of it. The project was
on track, the community was happy, and the eagles, sensing the change, began to return.
One evening, Raj stood with Mrs. Devi and watched the sunset. The great arcs of the new
towers framed the sky, their elegant curves echoing the wings of the eagles soaring overhead.
The transmission lines were no longer scars on the earth, but a testament to a new way of
thinking. He had not just built a power line; he had built a bridge between two worlds, where
progress and beauty could not only coexist but fly hand-in-hand, like the eagles of Sunrakh
Bangar.