Ross Island (Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose Dweep): A Rather Quiet Little Island With Rather a Lot to Say

Table of Contents

Introduction

I have visited a good many odd corners of the world in my time, and I have noticed that every island, like every farm I ever called on, seems to have a character all its own — some gentle and welcoming, others carrying old troubles quietly beneath a pleasant face. There is a small island just off Port Blair, in the Andamans, that once went by the rather grand title of “Paris of the East.” These days it answers to Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose Dweep, though for the best part of two hundred years everybody simply called it Ross Island. I stepped ashore there myself not long ago, and I can tell you, it is not every day a fellow finds himself standing in the middle of a jungle that used to be a ballroom.

(Image ALT: “Aerial view of Ross Island covered in dense tropical forest surrounded by turquoise Andaman sea” — Caption: “Ross Island today — a quiet green patient hiding a rather noisy past.”)

The Birth of a Forgotten Island

Before it ever had a name fit for a map, the local people simply called this place “Chong Ekee Bood,” which I am told means something altogether more sensible than the names we Europeans generally hand out. In 1789, a British surveyor by the name of Lieutenant Archibald Blair came ashore and, being a practical sort of chap, put up a small hospital and a sanatorium. Later on, another surveyor — Sir Daniel Ross — had the island named after him, rather as a farmer might have a prize heifer named in his honour, and Ross Island it has been, more or less, ever since.

But the island’s real story, the one worth telling over a cup of tea, begins after the Revolt of 1857. Wanting somewhere well out of the way to send troublesome rebels, the British decided the Andamans would do nicely for a penal settlement. On the 10th of March, 1858, a Captain James Pattison Walker turned up at Port Blair aboard a ship called the SS Diana, with some two hundred convicts in tow. It wasn’t long before this modest little island was chosen as the headquarters for running the whole show.

(Image ALT: “Old map sketch of Ross Island Andaman with British colonial buildings marked” — Caption: “A small island handed rather a large job.”)

Where the “Paris of the East” Once Stood

Now, when the British decide to settle somewhere, they do like to make themselves comfortable, and Ross Island was no exception. Bit by bit, they built the place up into a proper little town — a grand residence for the Chief Commissioner, a handsome church, a printing press, a bakery, water tanks, a swimming pool, a badminton court, a ballroom, a club, even a bazaar. Of an evening the whole island would light up, the piano would strike up some tune or other, and the officers and their families would take a turn about the ballroom floor as though they hadn’t a care in the world. It was this rather cheerful extravagance that earned the place its nickname — the “Paris of the East,” no less.

And yet, across the water at the Cellular Jail in Port Blair, men who had taken part in that same uprising were suffering in conditions I shouldn’t like to describe over breakfast. It is a rum sort of contrast — chandeliers and champagne on one island, chains on the other. Ross Island sat at the very centre of it all, the seat of power from which more than two dozen Chief Commissioners, one after another, ran the whole administration.

(Image ALT: “Ruins of Government House Ross Island with tree roots covering the walls” — Caption: “Once the grandest address for miles around — now rather more popular with the local trees.”)

The Day the Music Stopped

But nothing, as any old farmer will tell you, lasts forever — not even an empire with its own ballroom. On the 26th of June, 1941, a considerable earthquake, somewhere between magnitude 7.7 and 8.1, gave the island a proper shake and cracked open a fair number of its proudest buildings. Then, in March 1942, with the world at war, the Japanese arrived and took the whole archipelago for themselves. The Chief Commissioner of the day, Sir Charles Francis Waterfall, was taken prisoner, and Government House — that once-splendid house of parties — became, for a while, the residence of a Japanese admiral. Then, on the 30th of December 1943, in a moment that still gives me a bit of a shiver, Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose stood upon this very island and hoisted the tricolour of a free India.

When the war ended in 1945, the Japanese packed up and left, and the British came back for a short spell. But in 1947, when India finally gained her independence, the British left for good — and, in a manner of speaking, took the life of the island with them. They left behind the palace, the church, the bakery, the printing press — an entire little town with nobody left to run it. The Indian Navy set up a small base and museum in 1979, but no one ever really came back to live there.

(Image ALT: “Historic photograph style illustration of Ross Island church ruins Andaman” — Caption: “St. Peter’s Church — the hymns long gone, though the birds seem to have taken up the tune.”)

Nature’s Quiet Revenge

What happened next is, to my mind, the most interesting part of the whole story — nature quietly, patiently, and without the least hurry, taking the place back for herself. The very peepal and banyan trees that convicts had once planted sent their roots creeping through every crack in the walls, every gap in the roofs, year after year after year, until you could hardly tell where the old brickwork ended and the tree began. Stand in front of the crumbling Government House today, and you’d be hard pressed to say whether you were looking at a ruin or a very determined piece of garden sculpture. The roots wrap round the brick like a great slow hand, and the sunlight coming through the leaves throws down the loveliest dappled light you ever saw.

It rather puts a man in his place, that sight. All that pride, all that grandeur, and in the end it comes to nothing more than a good climbing frame for the local fig trees. Nature, unlike the rest of us, is in no particular rush. She simply waits her turn — and then, quietly, she takes back what was always hers.

(Image ALT: “Giant strangler fig tree roots engulfing colonial ruins Ross Island Andaman” — Caption: “Given a hundred years and no rent to pay, a tree can do wonders.”)

When the Footsteps of Tourists Arrived

Tourism was a long time coming to the Andamans. For years after independence, the islands stayed mostly off-limits to ordinary travellers, largely for reasons of security. It was only towards the end of the twentieth century, particularly from the 1990s onward, that the door opened properly to visitors. Ross Island, with its curious history and its rather odd beauty, soon became one of the easiest and most popular trips out from Port Blair.

No account of the place would be complete without a word about Anuradha Rao, known locally and rather affectionately as the island’s “deer woman.” For thirty years now she has looked after the island’s deer and peacocks with a devotion I can only admire, and even the terrible tsunami of 2004 didn’t shake her resolve one bit. It’s thanks to people like her that the island today is not merely a museum piece, but a rather touching example of people and wildlife rubbing along together quite happily.

In December 2018, to mark the 75th anniversary of Netaji’s flag-hoisting, the Government of India renamed the island Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose Dweep — a fitting tribute, and one that ties the island’s name forever to that moment in the freedom struggle.

(Image ALT: “Spotted deer roaming freely near ruins on Ross Island Andaman” — Caption: “The current residents — and by all accounts, far better tenants than the last lot.”)

If You Set Foot on the Island Today

Step ashore today, and the first thing you notice is a peculiar sort of quiet — the kind that’s absolutely stuffed full of stories, if you care to listen. A narrow path winds through thick green forest towards the old ruins. Spotted deer wander about the road quite unbothered by visitors, and every so often a peacock lets out a cry that fairly cuts the silence in two. Looking at it all, you’d never guess this little island once ran an entire colonial administration — it feels more like something out of a storybook, a forgotten little kingdom where time has simply put its feet up.

There is plenty here worth a good look:

Government House — once home to the Chief Commissioner, now very much taken over by a rather ambitious banyan tree.
St. Peter’s Church — once full of hymns, now full of nothing much besides rustling leaves.
The Printing Press and Bakery ruins — where papers were once printed and bread once baked, though not, I imagine, together.
Water Tanks and Swimming Pool — still holding water that mirrors the sky rather beautifully.
The Old Lighthouse — which once kept a watchful eye out for ships.
Japanese Bunkers — leftovers from the Second World War, still standing sturdy.
The Evening Light and Sound Show — where, as dusk comes down, the whole history flickers back to life for an hour or so.

(Image ALT: “Old lighthouse Ross Island Andaman surrounded by coconut trees” — Caption: “Still on duty, though there’s rather less shipping to worry about these days.”)

Why This Island Holds the Heart So Tightly

The beauty of this place isn’t the sort you take in with your eyes alone — it creeps up on you somewhere further in, rather like a good dog settling itself against your leg without asking permission. Walk through the thick green woods, stand before those root-wrapped ruins, and you’ll find yourself, without quite meaning to, forgetting what day it is. The blue sea all around, the deep shade overhead, sunlight scattered like loose coins on the ground, the far-off murmur of waves, and then — cutting clean through it all — a peacock’s cry. Put it together, and you get a place where a person can, for a little while, quite happily forget the ordinary business of being themselves.

That’s precisely why those who’ve been once always want to go back. And those who haven’t yet been generally find themselves thinking this quiet, history-laden, forest-wrapped little island is somewhere worth seeing at least once in a lifetime. Because here, you don’t simply look at history — you walk straight into it, and find nature and time having rather a long, unhurried conversation that few places on earth manage half so well.

Location and How to Get There

Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose Dweep — or Ross Island, as most people still call it out of habit — lies just two to three kilometres east of Port Blair, in the South Andaman district. Regular ferries run from the Rajiv Gandhi Water Sports Complex and the Aberdeen Jetty in Port Blair, and the crossing itself takes only twenty to twenty-five minutes. A good many tour operators also run combined trips pairing Ross Island with North Bay. To keep the island’s delicate balance intact, visitors are generally asked to keep their stay to around ninety minutes, and you’ll need a permit, which is easily arranged through the local authorities or any travel agency.

(Image ALT: “Ferry boat crossing from Port Blair to Ross Island Andaman” — Caption: “Twenty-five minutes by boat, and a couple of centuries the other way in time.”)

Get in Touch With Us

If you’d like to see this odd, moving little corner of history and nature for yourself — to stand among Ross Island’s quiet ruins and feel that peculiar stillness settle over you — we’d be only too glad to help. From ferry bookings to permits, we take care of every little detail of your Andaman trip, so you needn’t worry about a thing.

If you’d like to travel with us on a full package, wonderful — but if all you’re after is a bit of information or advice, there’s no obligation whatsoever to book anything. Getting in touch with us doesn’t commit you to a thing. We simply like to help — especially those who feel a bit hesitant, or even nervous, about planning a trip out to the Andamans. Setting that worry to rest is very much our job. Do get in touch, without the slightest hesitation — we’re right here.

Frequently Asked Questions

1. What is Ross Island called today? In December 2018, the Government of India renamed Ross Island as Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose Dweep, honouring Netaji’s historic flag-hoisting on the island.

2. How do I get to Ross Island? Ferries run from the Aberdeen Jetty or the Water Sports Complex Jetty in Port Blair. Many tour operators also offer combined Ross Island + North Bay trips.

3. How far is Ross Island from Port Blair? Ross Island lies just 2–3 kilometres from Port Blair and can be reached by boat in about 20–25 minutes.

4. Why are there so many ruins on Ross Island? After the 1941 earthquake and the Japanese occupation during the Second World War, the British never rebuilt the island. Following India’s independence, the island was left uninhabited, and nature gradually reclaimed the structures.

5. Why was it called the “Paris of the East”? During British rule, the island boasted a lavish lifestyle — a grand church, a ballroom, a club, a swimming pool, and more — which earned it the nickname “Paris of the East.”

6. What can be seen on Ross Island? Government House, St. Peter’s Church, the printing press and bakery ruins, the old lighthouse, Japanese bunkers, and freely roaming deer and peacocks are among the island’s main attractions.

7. Is a permit required to visit Ross Island? Yes, a permit is needed, which can easily be arranged through local authorities or a travel agency.

8. When is the best time to visit Ross Island? November to May, when the weather is pleasant and the sea stays calm, is generally the best time to visit.

9. Can Ross Island be visited during the monsoon? Yes, though ferry services depend on weather and sea conditions, so it’s best to check in advance.

10. Is Ross Island suitable for a family trip? Yes. Families, couples, friends, and solo travellers alike will find it a safe and rewarding destination.

11. Can I bring children along? Absolutely — just keep an eye on them near the ruined structures and move carefully.

12. Is food available on Ross Island? Facilities may be limited, so it’s wise to carry drinking water and light snacks.

13. Is it a good spot for photography? Definitely. History, nature, architecture, and sea views combine to make it one of the best photography locations in the Andamans.

14. Can you swim there? No — this is primarily a historical sightseeing spot. For swimming, a proper beach is the safer choice.

15. Why should Ross Island be on everyone’s list at least once? Because very few places on earth bring together history, nature, architecture, and the sea quite so beautifully. Here, you don’t just see an island — you walk straight into a forgotten chapter of time.

16. Can I contact you just for information, without booking a package? Of course. Reaching out to us never obligates you to take a package. You’re welcome to contact us purely for advice or information, with no hesitation at all.

Leave a Comment Cancel Reply