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| Chaba power plant overlooks the Sutlej near Tattapani/ May 2004 |
July 15 is an important date in the history of Shimla. It was on this day, in 1913, that the city got municipal electricity. The Viceregal Lodge and important installations like the waterworks had their ‘dynamos’ for years, but on July 15, 1913, electricity became a convenience that the common resident of the British summer capital in India could apply for and get.
Shimla could plug in because a little powerhouse at a place called Chaba, down in the valley of the Sutlej, came on stream. It was the first hydel plant in the region, built over four years. With just three 250kW Siemens generators at the time, it produced electricity that might not suffice for the needs of a few AC-running housing blocks these days, but a century ago 750kW was so much power that engineers were rushing to their drawing boards thinking up trams and electric cars, and other uses for it.
In time, two bigger generators of 500kW each were added, and Chaba became a 1.75MW installation. All five of those original units still roar dutifully every day, evidence of their sturdy construction and the engineering skills of Captain B C Battye’s team that built the power house.
I have visited this little gem in the hills thrice, and each time I have come away feeling happy because not only does the machinery recall an older, unhurried world, but also the people who keep it going show a degree of attachment to it that you do not associate with ‘sarkari’ jobs. They are proud of it, house-proud, in fact, the way you would be of a colonial inheritance up in Shimla city.
First visit: September 2000
I was a rookie reporter with a new bike. Early one morning I rode to Tattapani from Chandigarh (160km), knowing only that the place had hot water springs. What I did not know was that it had been ravaged in a flood a month earlier. On the night intervening July 31 and August 1, the Sutlej had risen in a cataclysmic flood that’s expected to occur only once in 61,000 years. The news did not get the space it deserved.
For a few hours, the river’s level increased by 60 feet over the normal – the height of a six-storey building. The torrent washed away 20 bridges on a 200km stretch and killed 135 people and 1,673 cattle. Property worth Rs 1,500 crore was destroyed. Tattapani, which at around 650m is almost the last point in the river’s steep mountainous course, was lucky because the flood waters reached it early morning and the villagers were able to scurry up the hill banks. But the village itself was a mess. The receding waters left rooms packed with silt up to the window sills.
A month later, people were still carting away the sand. The school ground and every single street were still under a grey, gritty blanket. My five-hour ride seemed wasted until, on the way back, I spotted the sign for Chaba. I rode there expecting to be turned away as you would be from any other dam or power installation in this country, but what I got was a surprised and warm welcome.
The powerhouse had also silted up in the flood and had to be closed, but the workmen had got it going again within weeks. That afternoon they were cleaning up and repairing the yard and their officer gave me a quick tour with permission to shoot at will. I stayed only about an hour because home was far away, but it remains one of my dearest travel memories.
Second visit: May 2004
In May 2004, I went on a tour of Himachal Pradesh’s Mandi district in my little Maruti 800. I chose to return by the Shimla road to revisit Tattapani and Chaba. On reaching Tattapani, I was surprised to find an arched concrete bridge being built over the river. Until then, there had only been a shaky suspension bridge of some antiquity over which vehicles passed one at a time.
The staff at Chaba was just as friendly. It was late afternoon and nearing time for all of the power plant’s five generators to come to life. Although it stands beside the Sutlej, the Chaba plant runs on water from a stream called Nauti Khad, and under full load (1.75 MW) the water in its reservoir lasts for only three hours and 20 minutes. So, through the day, only one small unit is run, while in the evening all five are turned on.
They turned on one of the big ones just to let me get a shot for the magazine I then wrote for. I walked around and found an old Chubb brass lock on a door, a ceiling fan with wooden blades inside an office, and a concrete bomb shelter built in 1942 that was being used as a store. The whole place was a living museum.
Last visit: June 2016
I passed twice through Tattapani in the monsoon of 2006 but couldn’t visit Chaba. The new bridge was ready and the old one had burnt down within a week of its opening, locals said. Its skeleton still hung over the fearsome gorge. But when I returned in 2016, not a trace of the old bridge remained. The turbulent Sutlej had become a vast lake because of Kol Dam that had come up downstream. It wasn’t what I had brought my wife and son to see. We turned back without stopping and went to Chaba.
The 4km link road to the hydel plant was busier, there were many new buildings and we drove past the plant without seeing it. Coming back, I found it a quieter place, desolate almost. Had it been shut down? We squeezed past the locked gate and found 3-4 staffers, and the same smiling welcome, and the same Chubb lock and the same Siemens generators. Everything working fine. Truly timeless.
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