The delusionary feeling of roaming adequacy hasn’t affected us till date, which prompts me to persist with planning sojourns every yearend. The scorching sun, the incessant dust, deficient workload and the consistent wasted weekends left me with a void feeling with a lot more to be desired. To support a more inclusive conception of reason, I voted for taking a short break from the drudgery and recharge myself for the forthcoming year. My usual travel-gang concurred with my destination choice of Calcutta and the north-eastern states of India for the excursion. Travel was one aspect where costs could escalate which prompted me to exploit my sparse workload by surfing websites in search of some cool deals! The indolent employment at Philips towards the fag end of the year helped me devote long hours to this activity. Bidding for air tickets on Air Sahara looked like the best deal and over a frenzied auctioning period of 2 weeks which would have put Sotheby’s to shame, I managed to garner all the tickets(more than a dozen) for about a third of the original price.
We chose to traverse the distance from Bangalore to Calcutta by train primarily to befriend ourselves with the rest of the group since a couple of unknowns were involved in the equation too! Reservations on the direct train from Bangalore were fully booked and so we opted for a stopover at Chennai before travelling on to Calcutta. The usual chaos of swapping berths, bickering about luggage space, scampering for the window seats etc occupied the first few hours of the journey before we settled down to discuss women empowerment in India and the US and other pieces of gossip for all we were worth! The AC compartments were quite comfortable and clean compared to the cattle class sleeper coaches which we usually frequented. The long reeking queues at the Chennai central loo is the only etched image which I can recall from the stopover at Chennai. Breakfast at the nondescript Bhavan off the station was more of a chronicider (time-killer) than an obligation.
At the station, while waiting for the Howrah express, I had a queer feeling that the entire Central Railway Station was watching us with a tongue-in-cheek expression and having a hearty laugh owing to our nomadic looks! The 30 hours journey to Calcutta was wholesome fun all the way with Venky performing the clown act most of the times. His wisecracks at times brought on a smile even on the pokerfaced ticket collector and the neighbouring compartment’s kid! The most popular one was when he asked us “How rah Express?!” when the Howrah express was travelling at snail’s pace! Suresh’s everlasting supply of food from his mother’s kitchen coupled with the hawkers’ supplies on the train had us satiated for the entire journey. Howrah and Calcutta are located on either side of the Hooghly (Ganges in the west Bengal) and only the Howrah station is accessible for the trains travelling from south India. I found it strange that no railway station is named after the city itself! The first sight of Calcutta when we arrived a couple of hours late into Howrah was the multitude of people! The majestic silhouette of the popular Howrah bridge (Rabindra setu in the local lingo) was faintly visible (owing to the mist) in the distance which doubly confirmed that we were indeed in Calcutta! A couple of pre-paid taxis were hired to take us to the Gariahat area where accommodation was arranged by Chiman’s uncle. Enroute, a river of yellow topped taxis stood stalled on the Howrah Bridge and though there was barely enough room for people to cross the street, the yellow topped taxis managed to squeeze their way through! Ambies proliferate here - no other car, I am sure, even comes close to a tenth of their number here! It took us a while before Chiman’s linguistic flair coupled with my homing skills helped us locate his relatives and the SharaNi lodge. Gariahat is one of the more vibrant market places in Calcutta located on the Rash Behari Avenue and the Gariahat road cross. The quaint homely lodge was located on a quiet side street behind the main road away from the noisy and crowded market place. Just 5 rooms together with a couple of washrooms fashioned the blasé yet comfortable accommodation. Chiman’s uncle treated us to Ice tea and coffee at the corner chai-shop before we trudged off to refresh ourselves at the lodgings’ washrooms. Since the market place was closed by the time we ambled out of our new found home, we were obliged to have dinner at a cramped yet comfy restaurant called the Bedouin. The chicken rolls were passable according to Sharath; Not that we knew she was a connoisseur of rolls though! The coming days showcased her skills of hunting down just the right roll anytime anywhere!
We woke up to a slight chill the next morning. Apparently, a single geyser sourced all bathrooms which compelled me and maybe others to endure shivers down the spine while accomplishing ablutions! A lukewarm water bath was the next ordeal. Calcutta was more of a stopover for us mainly to obtain permissions to visit Arunachal and Nagaland states. Ironically Indians need an inner line permit to visit these parts of India! A photocopy of our passports was necessary to obtain these permits which prompted me to search out the neighbourhood Xerox machine. The billboard on the door a few blocks away from our lodge seemed to scream about the cheapest photocopier and I rushed in there. The shop was actually in-house and the inmates were yet to discover that the day had started a couple of hours ago! I was offered a seat by the maid while she rushed in to announce the first customer of the day. An eternity later, the owner finally trudged in, offered prayers to the photocopied monochrome print of Durga and his cash box while completely ignoring me, and then switched on the copier to execute my needs. Breakfast had to be skipped since we had a couple of hours before the government offices closed for lunch. The consulates (if you can call them so) of Arunachal and Nagaland are situated on different corners of the city which impelled us to split up ourselves into two groups; Chetana, Pratima, Venky and I hopped on to a taxi towards the Arunachal consulate while the rest went the other way towards the Nagaland office. Our permits were easily obtained though Suresh and the rest starred in an anecdote of having to bribe an attendant and all! We all had both the permits by the end of the day though.
The Birla Mandir at Ballygunge wasn’t too far from Gariahat and thus qualified as the first in our list of ‘doing’ Kolkata. The mandir with its exquisite Rajasthani marble carvings is quite a sight in the fading lights; that transition from dusk to darkness when the whole temple is lit up with greenish lights. I remember doing acrobatics across the temple road to capture a photo of the mandir without a tripod! The colourful streets of the Gariahat market is a fun place to stroll; and maybe pick up an undergarment or two as Suresha and Venky almost did but were dissuaded by the lack of trial rooms! I don’t remember if they did settle for a buy though! The girls indulged in getting their hands painted with mehendi while I stuck a conversation with a Bengali gentleman, Mr KalaChand Chakraborty, who had been to Tawang with his family and was bent upon giving me useful tidbits of information.
Dinner that night was on the streets which served myriad varieties of food. Venky stuffed himself with a cartload of pani puris (fucchkaas in the local lingo) thus creating a new record if ever there was one for gulping them wholesale! The next day started with the usual ritual of neatly parting my curled hair using Pratima’s comb. Sharath and Suresha chose to jog/walk/run much before the rest of us discovered the morning. The Belur Math was our destination for the new day and we chose to go by taxi. The bright yellow amby with a sardar and his flowing beard brought smiles to our faces. Through the translucent windows of the taxi, the overwhelming impression shaped by Calcutta was of chaos, dirt, decay and grime. But what redeemed it were the people! The eccentric meter showed a ridiculously low price after a 40 minute ride. But we then realised that there was a conversion factor to the fare which finally wasn’t all that low! The Temple has an aura about itself; an aura that pertains to its association with the greatest saint of Bengal—Sri Ramakrishna Paramhamsa. This temple is situated to the north of Calcutta, a place where the god man spent most of his life. The well-preserved Spartan living quarters of the saint’s best disciple Swami Vivekananda is also located here amidst gardens. Across the Hooghly is the Dakshineshwar temple which is connected by a ferry. It was a short ride (costing just a rupee each!) made exciting by Venky’s antics which regaled the conformist crowd. The English caption supposedly meant to advise people on not entering the temple with sandals was very funny at the entrance. I don’t remember the exact wordings though. Sri Ramakrishna Paramhamsa served here as the head priest for quite some time which brought fame to this temple. The Dakshineshwar railway station is located a small walk away from where trains leave to Sealdah (Calcutta) quite frequently. Sharath discovered a cute shop selling incredible pickle varieties. I doubt if the owner was too pleased to see us all gorge on free samples without buying anything though!
And then we had our midday moon-sighting sometime later from the platform. I take credit in spotting the full moon and I guess everyone had a very clear sighting! :-)) We still had an hour to kill before the next train; a few of us chose to walk around the small habitation around the station while Sharath and Suresh chose to enjoy a small ride on the hand drawn carts available for hire. Sealdah was 4 stops away from Dakshineshwar. The Sealdah station gave us a glimpse of the multitude of people! If you actually believed the government statistics on the population being controlled, you haven't seen the Calcutta local trains. Now I know where all those extra people are hiding! You can't blame the government, can you? Obviously you can't count them if they're moving all the time!
Going back from Sealdah to Gariahat, we chose the Metro. For me the sight of an Indian Metro train brought back memories of the 40th year of Indian Independence song that used to be shown on national TV; Arun lal coming out of the Calcuttan metro along with a horde of other Bengali newsmakers. The Metro is fantastically efficient and uncharacteristically (for Kolkata) clean! The stations have marble and granite floors, magnetic tape operated revolving gates, automatic sliding doors, great ventilation and even TV sets on platforms! The only grouse is the dirgey Robeendro Sangeet that keeps playing at the platforms. Well, you can't have it all! Over there in Kolkata, Tagore is God. Rabindra Setu, Rabindra Sadan, Rabindra Sarobar, Rabindra Saraani and of course Rabindra Shongeet!
A small siesta later, we geared up for the last destination of the day, the Kalighat temple, next door to Mother Teresa's Home for the Sick and Dying Destitute, which wasn’t too far from Gariahat. Being in Calcutta, we were looking forward to try the KC Das rosagollas who is credited with being the inventer of the popular sweet. For the uninitiated or the saipu kinds, rosagollas are “Cheese Balls in Sugar Syrup”! Recently I heard that KC Das patented their rosagollas. Considering that they were the first to discover this delicacy, I wonder whether that could be contended! The canned ones that we get in Bangalore or elsewhere are no way near the hot ones that we ate at the KC Das shop in Kolkata; and at half the price! It cost us just 3 bucks per sweet and the 8 of us swept the shop clean! The temple is located just a few minutes walk from the KC Das shop. The name Calcutta is said to have been derived from the word Kalighat. The air was almost electric as we slowly approached the inner sanctum. Lines of hordes of people, smells and sounds you've never come close to. Before we got real near the temple we had to of course take off our footwear and walk straight on the mushy wet ground. So we did. After lining up for a while, with men dressed in almost nothing yelling everywhere, we got inside. The sad part being that their language was punctuated with obscenities! Before staring into the eyes of Kali you first walk around the sanctum, which basically is a steel cage. It wasn’t impressive. The obscenities increased once the yellers sensed that they were deprived off their usual moolah which the foreigners/saipus part with.
A yet untried way of commuting within Kolkata was the bus. We chose this mode to go back home to SharaNi lodge. The buses here are genuine antiques and are made of wood!! Well, not entirely wooden either, there's some aluminium too, but what strikes you first when you see the buses is the wood! The interior is made out of wood. The windows have intricately carved wooden frames - carved in the manner of the entrance to a temple. The floor is covered by long wooden strips. The buses do not fit more than maybe 15 people and are extremely cheap. I guess the whole of Kolkata is inexpensive compared to the other non-communist ruled states! While on vacation, sleep is the last thing on our minds which prompted us to explore any of the late night movies. There are presumably very nice movie theaters in Kolkata, but their number is agonizingly small! A trivia fact: the Bengali movie industry is quite interestingly called Tollywood - reminiscent of Tollygunge, the last stop on the Metro line (or the first, depending on what direction you are going). The shah rukh, Priety Zinta starrer KalHoNaHo was our choice but the movie had already begun by the time we rushed in! What surprised me was the bar counter inside the theatre which was doing brisk business at the interval!
The next day, we were to fly to Guwahati and then catch a bus to reach Tezpur in Assam the same evening. We had another half day to kill in Calcutta before the flight. This of course depended on how early our day started. A breakfast stroll ended up in a designer saree shop! The lack of mannequins at the shop was made up by draping everyone’s choice on Pratima by the smart saleswoman. That move sold quite a few saris, I should say! A particular yellow sari on Pratima even coerced me to take portfolio snaps! We then hired cabs to take us to the Dum Dum airport; no, it’s not a joke! The Kolkatan airport really goes by that name! My day was made when I saw Arun Lal coming out of the airport. I have this fetish of trying to get close to cricketers of any grade from either the past or present. Venky’s first ever flight had brought out the goose bumps in him and the satirical jibes from the rest of us. The flight wasn’t without incident though. The weather conditions delayed the flight by more than 4 hours which erased any possibility of us reaching Tezpur the same evening. We chose to have lunch at the nondescript airport restaurant located just the terminal. As with any airport vicinity restaurant, food was pathetic.
Tawang Trials:
The unplanned halt at Guwahati was something we could do have done without, considering our tight schedule and the lack of prior hotel bookings to stay over. Knowing fully well that the airline was to blame for our delay, a little bit of cajoling, coercion and sweet talk resulted in the airline staff relenting and we were offered a free stay at the Dynasty hotel located 17 kms from the airport. Shakil, my friend from Philips who had helped me plan details of this trip, later confirmed that localites rarely can afford a night’s stay there! On hindsight we realised that our tickets cost lesser than a night’s stay at that hotel. I wonder how airlines make money!
The hotel even arranged taxis to the local bus-station the next morning to enable us board the Tezpur bound bus. We slept through most of the 5 hour journey owing to the highway undulations coupled with our exhaustion. Public buses ply only once a day between Tezpur and Bomdila located about 165 km away. I realised that the ‘distance in km’ is quite a misnomer in the north-east region! With a maximum speed of less than 20 kms per hour and sometimes even lesser, it’s more meaningful to refer distances by time (like in foreign J) rather than kms. We missed the day’s bus to Bomdila which prompted me to look around for alternate transport rather than waste another night at Tezpur which really had nothing to offer for the tourist. Tata Sumos and Maruthi vans traverse between most of the locations and the rates are per person rather than the more common practice of charging per km. An entire Sumo which normally seats 10 people was hired by the 8 of us by paying for the extra 2 persons also. Pradhan
with his navy blue Sumo was our driver for the journey and he could speak a splattering of Hindi which suited us fine. An hour and half beyond Tezpur and the road enters jungle country. Lunch rendezvous was at Bhalukpong, 52 km from Tezpur, on the edge of the Pakhui Game Sanctuary, in the south-western corner of the state, where the Kameng River (one of the many tributaries of Brahmaputra) flows across into Assam. As we left the plains of Assam and climbed the hill to enter in to Bhalukpong, which is the entry point into Arunachal Pradesh in this sector, the policemen at the check post take a close look at our Inner Line permits. Since this procedure takes a while, travellers prefer to break for a quick snack at this juncture. The “fooding and lodging” Garuta hotel provided spartan but delicious unlimited meals. Pradhan surprised us by swapping his lunch with several swigs of neat whisky on the rocks! Having to endure his driving through the hills gave us the jitters but the whiskey hardly affected him as we discovered later! On the way Pradhan enlightened us on the pristine locales which presumably played host to Shah rukh khan and Madhuri Dixit while shooting for the film ‘Koyla’. I could perceive a huge sense of pride in him while narrating the film sequences! We stopped for a while on Pradhan’s insistence at a water falls which was partially cascading onto the roads. According to him this was where the helicopter sequence in the movie was shot; I do remember seeing the movie in a theatre near the KR Market along with my project mates while on a trip to the Novell Campus for my final semester project; but I don’t recall any helicopter sequence in the movie! Bomdila is located about 100 kms from Bhalukpong and it was dark before even Pradhan’s driving skills could take us there! My sojourns normally lack the immaculate planning associated with vacations and this was no exception. And hotel bookings are never obligatory while travelling in India since very rarely do hotels bask with full occupancy. I was loaded with hotel addresses and phone numbers (With absolutely no reservations though) obtained from the web and lonely planet (which sadly has very little or nothing on the north eastern states of India). Pradhan’s local knowledge was probably more relevant than my listings. Bomdila itself is tiny, but it is spread over a wide ridge that straddles a mountain. The first hotel we checked out couldn’t house all of us plus luggage which forced us to look further uphill. A couple of rooms (one of which had a primitive heater) were available for us at the next place. The eatery down the road which served hot tea and a rice dish with a generous sprinkling of spicy Tabasco like sauce was just perfect after the winding journey that day. The thick blankets provided at the hotel could hardly keep me warm and I shivered the whole night. The lodging cost us 800/- for all of us I remember which was quite cheap considering that we were 8 of us! Our tryst with Pradhan ended at Bomdila and we had to look out for a new driver for Tawang and back.While strolling without reason that morning I was befriended by a suit-clad gentleman who appeared to be working with the government. He claimed that he could provide reservations for the tourist lodge at Tawang and the ITDC owned Kaziranga forest lodge for a small booking fee of 400/-. This of course would be deductible from the actual lodging rates once we check-in. I was ushered into his plush office located a few buildings away from our hotel and I was offered some colourful brochures of the north eastern states. A few phone calls later, I was elated since I was now armed with reservations at both places! Meanwhile we had also found a new driver to take us to Tawang and back.
Our first snow sighting happened after about an hour’s drive from Bomdila. For some of us (not me though), this was a first time experience which prompted us to get off the vehicle for a photo shoot. The pristine eastern Himalayas were quite a sight even from a distance! The roads around here were well maintained by the Border Roads Organization. One must hand it to this Organisation for keeping up the humour on Indian roads with some very amusing signs. Even better these signs which seem to come every few kilometres are there to help encourage responsible driving. Most of the signs got us to smile and some really had us rolling on the floors laughing! Some examples were like “Make love not war but nothing while driving”, “This is highway not runway”, “Be gentle on my curves” etc.
The road from Bomdila to Tawang is lined with dhabas offering simple cheap lunches to the truck drivers who constantly operate on this stretch. Lunch was at one of these outlets not far from Dirang, which was more of a home than a hotel. The back door opened out to a small balcony perched atop a valley where we waited until food was freshly prepared for us. Accustomed to an after-lunch-stroll, we
promptly set off after instructing our driver to pick us up on the next curve. The mountains in the backdrop with the girls on a culvert stone formed another photo opportunity for me. I was impressed by the distinct shadows in this photo.The winding road coupled with the unmistakeable diesel smell after a heavy lunch had yet to bring out the ‘omelette’ in me! I was surprised and so were the rest who were aware of my predicament on long road journeys. Andy’s absence probably contributed to my well-being! Sela pass at 4150 metres(13700 feet) is the highest point on the Bomdila – Tawang route. We were fortunate to have bright sunlight that day though it was numbing cold. A couple of inspiring inscriptions flank each face of a monument just beyond the entrance arch at the Sela pass. Further beyond the arch was a frozen lake just suitable for us to play around in the snow! Jaisimha was the chosen one to be smothered all over with snow though the rest weren’t far behind! I was most impressed by the presence of a State bank of India branch at the Sela pass. This is the place where errant bank officers from other branches in India are probably transferred as punishment! From Sela, it’s a downward journey to Tawang via Jang. A couple of male yaks perhaps fighting over their territories (just like our armies?) were fun to watch on the way down.
An hour after Sela, we come across a unique memorial-cum-mandir of Jaswant Singh alias Jaswant Baba. The story of Jaswant Singh is inscribed on a plaque at the memorial. The caretakers of the memorial also take pride in recounting Jasawant Singh's heroics besides serving a hot cup of tea to all visitors. Some interesting stories abound about Jaswant’s heroics in the battle of Nuranang. It was the final phase of the war in November 1962. Even as his company was asked to fall back, Jaswant Singh remained at his post at an altitude of 10,000 feet and held back the rampaging Chinese for three days single-handedly. He was helped by two local girls – Sela (the pass is named after her) and Nura(battlefield named after her) -- during the heroic battle that ended after the Chinese discovered the post was being defended by a solitary soldier. So enraged were the attackers that they cut off Jaswant Singh's head and took it back to China. However, after the ceasefire, the Chinese commander, impressed by the soldier's bravery, returned the head along with a brass bust of Jaswant Singh. The bust, created in China to honour the brave Indian soldier, is now installed at the site of the battle, a location now known as Jaswantgarh. Jaswastgarh is almost a shrine and Army personnel passing by this route, be it a general or
a jawan, make it a point to pay their respects here. I also learnt that the appointment as caretakers to this place is on a rotation basis and is dependent on your excellent track record in the armed forces! The road started to get curvy from Sela onwards as did the BRO signs’ humour!The next few kilometres belonged to the Nura tuskers who are probably an elite group of the Indian armed forces. Warning boards cautioning visitors not to get off their vehicles or take pictures of the area abounded the area. Analysts and political pundits will have their own take on the relative strengths and weaknesses between India and its neighbours, but this journey convinced me that come what may, I was really safe in India under these soldiers!
The steep descent coupled with the hair-pin curves from Sela towards Jung and Tawang blocked our ears but still couldn’t get me to ‘omelette’! (Did I just contribute towards nurturing the English language by using Omelette as a verb?!). Bookings for a big dormitory and a double room were confirmed at the Tourist Lodge in my name. The dorm had a cosy attic linked by a plain wooden ladder and a carpeted floor. It was too darned cold though. It was almost dark and we headed out towards Tawang’s downtown to feel the place, shop around and probably grab a bite. The monasteries and other areas of ‘tourist’ interest were anyway closed for the day. Everything that sells in Tawang is probably from across the border (China), I was told by one of the locals. We chose to dine at a local restaurant specialising in momos, located off the main street. Albeit for the longish wait, food was out of the world! I remember repeating our initial orders at least thrice before we felt satiated. Back at the lodge, Chetana and I choose the attic while the rest divided themselves around either on the lower deck of the dorm or the double room downstairs.
The tiring journey from Bomdila had created an indolence within all of us which prevented us from getting off our cosy sheets even after a couple of hours into daybreak. Chiman, the early bird (and thus the worm eater), chirped into our dorm and announced nonchalantly that there was snow all around! That was enough to get us all scuttling outside. A snow covered landscape greeted us which made us all the more eager to rush through our ablutions and get ready to explore the place. But the bathroom taps could offer just a faint trickle of cold water. Having paid quite a tidy sum towards the hotel, we were a trifle annoyed at not having the basic luxury of hot water early in the morning. I stormed to the manager’s desk and reported the problem with the best possible animation I could manage. The manager on duty questioned me with a serene look as to why I wanted to have a bath so early in the day. He explained that the taps are frozen solid and warm up only by noon and that’s when the water starts flowing! With the same tranquil look, he said “Yehi Hai Tawang” which brought on a smile to our faces instantly. The local folks leave home to work in their fields very early in the morning and come back by noon for their ablutions, I learnt.
The hotel’s courtyard, that had a couple of inches of snow from the previous day, provided a perfect playground for Vandy and Sharath to build their 2 feet snowman. The rest of us contributed towards clothing him with twigs, leaves and what not! The Tawang monastery, locally referred as the gompa was a few minutes walk from our hotel. The monastery is sort of a fortified complex with many entrances and exits. It’s supposedly the second biggest monastery in Asia and not really antique. I mean it’s just about 400 years old. The Dalai Lama’s portrait shares the sanctum sanctorum with a huge statue of the Buddha. The inside walls and the entrance gate to the monastery are painted with murals of various deities and saints. I was a bit surprised to see biscuits and chocolates offered around the Buddha
along with the usual candles, incense sticks and flowers. A paved path runs from the main entrance towards the rear of the monastery and leads to a stone slab courtyard. I learnt from the monks on duty that religious dances and outdoor ceremonies are held there. The entire eastern half of the monastery is covered with residential quarters for housing the resident monks. Each of these dormitories has been constructed by villagers around the monastery on a voluntary basis. They also carry out the repairs and are responsible for its maintenance. A cute furry mongrel probably owned by one of the residents pranced about for sometime around me before dashing off into one of the huts. The snow was too cold for his padded feet I guess!Right opposite the monastery is a museum stocking artefacts much older than the monastery itself. The entry fee was 20/- and since we were the only visitors that day, we got a fair share of attention and commentaries from the curator and his apprentices. The previous Dalai llamas’ personal belongings along with other ancient relics filled the museum. Most exhibits were more than 300 years old except the curator of course! Standing atop the veranda outside the museum, I could get a bird’s eye view of the snow covered Tawang and the surrounding villages. Back in town, I bought myself a colourful hand woven cap made of wool at one of the local stores. It was a cheerful atmosphere at the Tawang market place with kids and adults alike indulging themselves in free-for-all snow ball fights. We were a bit hesitant to join in initially but slowly broke the ice by pitching the handmade flaky balls in all directions. I remember heading off to our hotels just when we realised that the locals were sort of competing with us. We also had to drive as close as possible if not to the Kaziranga national park itself that same day. Packed and ready, we started off towards Jung, Bomdila, Tezpur and then kaziranga. The supposedly innocuous snow fight at the market place had now turned into frenzy with everyone involved. Safe in our Sumo with the windows drawn, we were trying to teach colloquial Kannada to Sharath while our driver ventured out to buy some commodities for the long drive ahead. “PyaaD” in Kannada doesn’t easily translate to English and we were having a tough time in getting the exact meaning across to Sharath. Venky had saved a snow ball all this while and was now targeting one of the locals on the streets. He slowly lowered the window just enough for him to throw and peeked out to ascertain his target. At that same instant he was splattered on his face with a snowball thrown with amazing precision right thru the small opening in the window from one of the locals! That act of Venky was enough for Sharath to clearly comprehend the exact usage of the word “PyaaD”! J
The intermittent stops, to take snaps of the snow covered terrain, coupled with the slippery roads toward Bomdila and our Sumo’s balding tyres reduced our pace to a crawl. I realised that driving on ice can be very risky especially in the hilly regions where our vehicle could slip off the roads into the steep valley below! Contrary to initial expectations of reaching Kaziranga that same day, I would have been content to reach Bomdila at least before nightfall. Sunsets are quite early in these parts during winter which prevented us from taking the detour towards Jung waterfalls. Though it was just a couple of hours past noon by the time we reached Jung, visibility was quite low. Without a stopover, we drove on aided by our driver’s confidence that we could still manage to pass Sela before nightfall. Negotiating the uphill hair pin curves on the sleet covered roads was getting tougher and the Sumo barely managed to hold on. A few times, it did slide off but the constant acceleration brought it back on track. We were about 10 kms away from Jung when catastrophe struck. A steep climb right after another curve caused our driver to shift gears. That momentary reduction in speed between gears was enough for the vehicle to lose grip and started sliding off the road into the gorge to the right. I could sense a feeling of fear in the driver as he issued orders for us to get off the vehicle immediately and impede the slide by slide by placing boulders or whatever available beneath the wheels. The first few attempts were unsuccessful since the vehicle just bumped off the small stones that we placed. But the smooth road surface aided us in pushing the vehicle from the sides to keep it on road. Our persistent efforts in stalling the slide finally paid off and the Sumo halted after about 20 feet from where it started! This was just half the problem solved since we now had to get the vehicle moving forward! These situations probably weren’t new to the driver and with his instructions we started inching ahead again. It was quite dark by this time and we chose to head back to
Jung for the night rather than risk getting stuck somewhere midway in extreme weather. Jung is a small place hardly frequented by travellers and thus has no lodging or hotels available. While contemplating over a cup of coffee, at a small shack which doubled up as Laxmi hotel, whether to turn back to Tawang or not, a small boy by name Sanjey Dorjee, who was playing around at the hotel offered to share his living space with us for the night! We were thrilled at this though we were sceptical as to how well we would be protected from the severe weather. But having no other options, we rode onto Sanjey’s living quarters located a few curves ahead of Jung.The residence was an 8ft x 8ft veranda with a small heater leading to a more spacious living room probably shared by 2 or 3 kids. I was surprised to see a faded poster of the Brindavan Gardens located in Mysore decorating one of the walls of the room! The kid had no clue of the location or how the poster came up there though. The heater was sourced by firewood stacked at a corner of the veranda. This entire place was left for ourselves while the kids who gave up their home chose to sleep elsewhere. 6 of us clustered in the smaller space while Sharath and Suresh chose the more spacious room. Oracle Software presumably has a collection of sleeping bags and other outdoor accessories which can be borrowed by their employees and these two felt confident of braving the extreme weather in their sleeping bags without the warmth of the heater! A couple of hours was all they could manage and they came shivering back to join us at the fireplace room. Complex equations had to be worked out to fit all of us comfortably within the small place now and yet avoid direct contact with the embers. My pyromaniac antics weren’t exactly according to specifications approved by the Jung locals which prompted an extremely handsome man to storm in our abode, redo the fire, clean up the place and exit without hardly a word being spoken! This unexpected act caused all the 4 girls to freeze at first, then giggle and then discuss the handsome character right out of an M&B for the rest of the night! We then settled for the night amidst this excited chatter.
Convoluted feelings of cramps, cold and exhilaration at watching the snow covered landscape outside accompanied daybreak. Our driver was already up and ready and waiting outside while a small crowd of curious locals had gathered to gauge us. Somehow none of the men outside matched the description of the handsome angel who had rescued all of us from certain death last night according to the girls!We chose to reward the kid who had let out his space for us with a token payment since all of us agreed that more money would only lead a school going kid astray. Suresha jotted down the kid’s address though so that a souvenir T-shirt or something useful could be posted from Bangalore. We spent another half hour talking to the people around and taking photographs before heading towards Jung for breakfast. The locals too were in a hurry to get to work. They rely on the BRO to provide them employment since the roads are covered with snow for most of the year. Our driver explained that the roads ahead should be fine since these people would be clearing them for us to pass through! Back at the Laxmi hotel at Jung, It was amusing to watch the kids slide on the snow to reach their school located downhill. Without having a chance to cleanse ourselves, breakfast wasn’t too exciting. We started off towards Assam with the girls still looking over their shoulder hoping to spot their handsome saviour.
Eastern Excursion:
The persistent snow fall over the past couple of days had fully covered the road back from Jung to Sela entirely, which was a spectacular sight. A maximum speed of about 20 kmph was all what we could
manage at best. A hour into the drive, our Sumo’s wheels started to spin at the same place without moving forward owing to the lack of traction on the smooth surface. Suresha and I had to get off, push the vehicle out of its self-created trough, run along with it for a few metres and jump onto the railings! These antics were necessary since the vehicle couldn’t stop for us to hop inside since that would have meant losing traction again! We had to stand on the rear bumper, teeth clattering, for the next half hour till the roads improved! That was quite an experience!The roads cleared after Sela pass and the way down was fast and most of us dozed off after the arduous past few days. A longish lunch stop at one of the roadside joints was refreshing; more for our driver since he still had many more miles to go before he slept! It was late evening before we reached Bhalukpong. The winding thin roads and the intermittent trucks that almost blocked the way made sure that it was close to midnight before we reached Tezpur. Consensus was to continue driving towards Kaziranga national park, located 80 kms away. Our driver too was keen on dropping us off though for an additional fee of 2000/- . We stopped over at his residence since he needed to refresh himself after almost 15 hours of driving and then hit national highway 37 towards Kaziranga braving the dense fog. Visibility was close to nil and our Sumo’s dim head lights barely helped. Nonchalantly, our driver continued though. Accommodation at Kaziranga ranges from various forest rest houses and bungalows to the Kaziranga Forest Lodge owned by the ITDC (Indian Tourism Development Corporation), depending upon the budget. Armed with my reservations at the ITDC forest lodge at Kaziranga, I wasn’t too concerned about reaching late. With hardly anyone around to ask for directions, we had a tough time groping in the dark before we finally arrived at the forest lodge. The guard on duty surely wasn’t expecting any check-ins this late (or early in the morning) and gruffly pointed out at his register that there weren’t any reservations open! To my utter dismay, I realised that the suit-clad gentleman at Bhalukpong had cheated us off 400/- by not making any reservations at this place at all! With no rooms available, we strode out in search of other hotels on the highway. Rest houses and hotels are perched besides the main road at Kohora (near the southern boundary of the park) and all along the highway. A few miles away from Kohora, we managed to find a clean looking lodge with a few lights On, which indicated that someone might just let us in at that ungodly hour. We thanked our driver for the excellent ride and marched into a couple of rooms; one for the ladies and one for the guys!
Daybreak made us realise just how sparsely our room was furnished. The continuous Sumo drive had us covered with a considerable amount of grime and we all looked forward to a clean bath. But sadly the single bathroom offered only brownish cold water spewed out of a dilapidated tap into a bucket made tougher by the incessant hard water scaling! No wonder ‘that’ bath remains etched in our memories! A quick continental breakfast later, we were on our way to Kohora from where we could hire a jeep to drive into the sanctuary. The forest department does not provide safari jeeps for hire. Elephant rides into the sanctuary were offered only at sunrise, for which we were late or at sunset, for which we couldn’t wait! The jeep rides are booked and depart from the Park Administrative Centre in Kohora. I remember the entry fees to be a bit complicated in the sense that the break-ups were too many; there was a park entry fee, a still camera fee, a video camera fee, a vehicle entry fee and a safari fee. It was mandatory to take along a ranger who doubled up as our guide. Kaziranga is a huge place spread along the banks of the Brahmaputra. Its swamps and tall thickets of elephant grass provide an ideal cover for its most popular inhabitant, the one-horned rhino. While waiting for our ranger to complete the entry formalities, I strode into the adjacent office whose notice boards displayed varied information on the national park. The officer inside was kind enough to distribute some brochures which had more details than what the notice boards could offer.
Our ranger prattled about the sanctuary, its problems and inhabitants in a splattering of Hindi and English for the first half hour of the safari. A couple of people bobbling amongst the grass caught my attention. They were actually Mahouts sitting on safari elephants that were completely hidden by the tall (aptly named) ‘elephant’ grass! Kaziranga’s off-season is when the grass is at it’s tallest since animal sightings are impossible during this period! To avoid clustering on a single route, the safari jeeps take different routes through the sanctuary and converse on wireless sets when any animal sightings occur. The first half hour of the safari only provided trivial sightings like that of birds and a lone female swamp deer (locally called Barasinga). 4 rivers cut through the national park which creates multiple marshlands and swamps. Our first Rhino sighting was on one such marshland where a solitary stag was wallowing in the slush. My only encounter with rhinos till date was at the Mysore Zoo that I frequented as a kid and I was sure excited to watch one in the wild! He was quite large unlike the zoo bred midgets that I was accustomed to. A closer look at the marshlands revealed a couple of more rhinos much farther away which resembled dirty mounds with horns and flapping ears!
To curb the rampant poaching within Kaziranga, watchtowers are erected at vantage points to aid
the forest guards to keep vigil. But these towers come handy for varied purposes! The Brahmaputra that pumps life into Kaziranga also snatches it away while in spate! During floods, all the wildlife is forced to take shelter on island like places including these watchtowers, which can survive the ravages of the floods. And for us tourists, the towers offer an amazing view of the wildlife that graze on the marshy plains below. Enroute to one of these towers (Dunga watch tower, I think), we got as close to a one horned beast as we possibly could! Hiding amongst the thickets, the rhino did an impromptu charge at our jeep but backed off before I could focus my huge SLR lens at him and get a clear snap! Apparently snakes find the towers too comfortable and prefer not to vacate when the floods recede; our ranger warned us to look out for snakes and critters while we climb up the tower. The tower offered a spectacle that is more characteristic of Africa, and one that probably no other Indian park offers, that of several species on view at once: rhinos, buffalos, elephants, hog deer, swamp deer, and wild boars apart from the myriad birds! The flood level indicator for different years and the small Durga shrine atop the tower had us all interested for a while before we started back towards Kohoro.A small shopping complex that caters to us tourists encircles the Kohoro entrance. Myriad Hawkers competed with alacrity to bait us though we were drawn into one particular shop with a catchy name in ‘Rhinorica’. The proprietor, Mrinmoy Goswami spoke good English and gave us insights into tourism in Assam while we gorged on some noodles. The souvenir shop had a good collection of wooden rhinos on display, priced at what I thought was a good bargain! I think Chetana usurped the only white rhino while the rest of us had to be content with black ones! Mrinmoy offered to make hotel reservations at Shillong, our next destination, and also book tickets for the overnight bus to Shillong from Kohora since his organization was supposedly affiliated with the Assam Transport and Tourism corporations. More insights from Mrinmoy, followed by our opinions on how to improve his spartan souvenir shop was how we killed those couple of hours before the overnight bus departed to Shillong. Shillong was apparently the capital of Assam before the state of Meghalaya was formed. Tired as we were from the day’s antics, the ‘semi-luxury’ seats of the bus were good enough to sleep in stupor.
At daybreak, as the bus panted up a steep gradient and corkscrewed around rocky promontories, I could see the road edge fall away into deep gorges. Valleys opened up between the folds of the hills, lakes gleamed silver in the pale sunlight and cottages clung to hillsides festooned with flowering creepers and wild ferns. Shops and tea stalls flanked the road as we entered the city, while houses spilled over down the hill slopes. Houses with tudor-style framework, church steeples and cottages with names like "Oaklands", and "Bellevue"; I could be pardoned if I fancied myself to be either in the Scottish Highlands, or in some small English hamlet! But we were in Shillong, the Scotland of the east and the rock music capital of India, just in time to usher in the New Year! Bob Dylan’s birthday celebrations are supposedly a big annual event in Shillong! Police Bazaar-a swirling hub of traffic, vendors and pedestrians was the first dismount. I wasn’t exactly surprised when we learnt that we had no hotel reservations in Shillong contrary to what Mrinmoy had promised. Luckily the hotel did have a couple of rooms vacant which we gleefully accepted. With a day’s dirt to wash off, the obvious rush for the solitary bathroom was legendary! Considering Suresha’a quirky fetish towards cleanliness, he was allowed the first use of the shower while we cuddled in foetal positions to stay warm in. An eternity later, a gust of steam enveloped the room before we could see his silhouette emerge out of the bathroom. That was quite a sight (reminded me of the customary entry scene of a south Indian hero in movies) and I wish I had photos to share! The girls shared an adjacent room and were up-n-ready and we all rushed out to do a recon of the town centre.
Police Bazaar is the main shopping district of Shillong and has everything from pricey, exclusive boutiques to makeshift stalls with their ware spread on the streets - selling everything from Chinese sandals to exotic orchids to strawberries to shawls and handbags. Confronted with such variety, I was in heaven considering my compulsive window-shopping disorder. Taxis were available for full-hire for a slightly higher price and we chose a black coloured Sumo – could we trust anything else! – chauffeured by a cud-chewing leather jacketed Amar who seemed to have a bit of clout amongst the ruffianly bunch of drivers to take us around Shillong. Amar chose our itinerary of visiting Cherrapunjee located 56 kms away, the Mawsmai Caves that day and trek to the rope bridges the next day. Every literate Indian kid would have read about Cherrapunjee and it’s rains (and we kids from Karnataka would have read the comparisons between Agumbe and Cherrapunjee too) and we were quite excited to actually visit that
place! The tourist touts and taxi drivers are now presumably promoting Mawsynram, a scenic place located 10 kms off Cherrapunjee, as the place with the heaviest rainfall to enable tourists to add an extra destination in their Shillong itinerary. But we drove on towards Cherrapunjee more for it’s nostalgic charm of having heard about it decades ago while at school. The drive to Cherrapunjee along beautiful, winding, well-paved smooth road cut into the top of the hills overlooking deep valleys is quite a joy and you could pullover to soak up the serenity anytime! But our pit-stop was more of a puke-stop owing to the winding roads. About 70,000 people call this area their home and it’s ironic that the wettest place in the world manages to thirst for water each winter when no rain falls at all for months at a time. The Nohkalikai waterfalls that roar in the monsoons were now just a trickle as seen in the photo. This waterfall is supposedly the fourth highest in the world and it was impressive even while spewing out the small trickle! A solitary yellow board proclaimed proudly that we were now at the place that receives the most rainfall in the world and we promptly took photos around that.A short distance away from Cherrapunjee to the south lies the village of Mawsmai in the direction of Bangladesh. The only light equipped show cave in Meghalaya, courtesy their tourism department, is located here. The stalactites and stalagmites are quite impressive though the caves get claustrophobic at places with insufficient lighting. The state does have innumerous unlit wild caves that are best explored through spelunking tours for the adventurous.
On that sunny, clear day from the Cherrapunjee hill tops, the rich green alluvial plains of Bangladesh, criss-crossed with its wide rivers on the final leg of its journey to the sea, were clearly visible.
Our driver indicated that the check post on the border is about 20 to 25 km from Cherrapunjee but the nearest place to get legal permission to enter Bangladesh is the embassy located at Agartala, Tripura. Cherrapunjee residents, who scarcely have enough water to drink or wash for six months of the year though metres of rain inundate the wettest place on earth, is ironically separated by just a few miles from Bangladesh, that perennially suffers from flooding during this time since the ground cannot retain the water due to the heavy intensity of the rains and it just flows down to the plains where it is least welcome! We obviously couldn’t resist taking a picture with a country that we had never been to in the background! It was New Year’s Eve and we were excited about chilling out in one of the Shillong pubs. Amar, our driver was apprehensive though about us visiting night spots since he felt they were unsafe and advised us rather to celebrate in our hotel rooms. We did check out a few popular clubs on the way back but were anyway disappointed looking at the huge unruly crowds mobbing the place. We instead decided to pick up a few bottles of booze and head back home to celebrate. The shopping malls and restaurants were still open around the Police bazaar and we chose a clean looking restaurant with a bamboo-ish ambience for dinner. Sharath meanwhile scouted around the shops looking for kids wear while the rest of us waited to be seated. At the dinner table, Venky was surprised to notice that Sharath had bought a cute little pink jacket and unable to suppress his rising curiosity asked her if it was for a niece. The question was more towards striking a conversation since he was sure of a positive answer. But when Sharath answered that it was for her 5 year old daughter Kavya, the incredulity that spread across his face illustrated the despair at having to deal with his diminishing pool of available resources to find a mate! J I don’t remember him speaking for the rest of the dinner. It felt really good to unwind at the hotel while ushering in the New Year. All of us belted out some tuneful songs using Anthyakshari as an excuse while sipping on the heady booze.It was an early start to the first day of the year 2004 since we had plans to go on a long trek. Amar was already waiting in his car with a fresh load of cud (gutka) in his mouth when we stepped out from the hotel. The living root bridges are an amazing invention by the locals of Meghalaya. The Indian rubber tree (Ficus Elastica – the taxonomists were probably Goscinny and Uderzo) is abundant around here and have adapted well to the soil conditions along the banks of the gushing streams. The locals
have used these trees innovatively to cross unfriendly rivers and streams, by directing the growing roots of these trees through hollowed out betel nut tree trunks, which were longitudinally sliced and placed in the desired position. When the growing roots reach the opposite bank of the river or stream, they were allowed to penetrate the soil. Stones and wooden planks are then placed to cover up the holes at the bottom and for aesthetics, a bunch of roots are grown on either side that act as protective handrails (No, these bridges are not disabled friendly of course)! It takes about 12-15 years for a bridge to be formed and the trees have a lifespan of more than a couple of hundred years! A patient investment thus pays off for generations to come. The ingenious locals have even constructed double-decker bridges at some locations considering rush hour traffic (festivals?) further down the hills.The bridge we intended to trek to is accessible through a half day trek from the Cherrapunjee Holiday resort, located at a place called Laitkynsew. The resort is run by a Christian family and sports a very homely look. It had useful flyers describing the various treks around the place; it’s proximity to the Bangladesh border (just 5 kms away), the local people and their habits and the native wildlife. Our Sumo took about 3 hours to reach the resort from Shillong and we were ready for the trek just before noon. This trek starts from the Resort premises and goes down hill through village settlements and plantations. The steps are relatively steeper in two short stretches but the whole trek is relatively just a walk in the park though I sometimes felt I was in Tarzan country! Another curious ingenuity I noticed was that the water was drawn uphill to the villages using bamboo poles placed at very slight upward angles.
Standing on the bridge, looking out into the dense moss covered vegetation entwined with thick vines, it felt to be in an illustrated fairytale! To belong, we pranced, jumped out to the dry water bed, climbed the highest possible branch and swayed from the roots until we were exhausted. We spent some time playing with the village kids on the walk back to the resort. Neither the kids nor their parents spoke a language that we understood but nonetheless, we still conversed! The kids were extremely excited to be framed through my long SLR lens though it might a common phenomenon for them considering the heavy influx of foreign tourists who come down to watch this magnificent piece of natural engineering. The sunset view from the resort was awesome and we packed off to our hotel in Shillong right after that. The ride back was uneventful since most of us slept. Amar had been a wonderful driver and guide for the duration of our stay in Shillong and we bade goodbyes after tipping him generously at the hotel. Since most restaurants were now closed, we decided to have dinner at our hotel itself. The hotel restaurant was thankfully empty which wasn’t surprising after seeing the sparse menu card that was on offer. While we waited for the food to arrive, we conversed on the hurdles in governing these far flung north eastern states where people find it beyond their comprehension to belong to a country whose point-zero is thousands of miles away. What started off as a simple discussion about politicians, their policies and how they have affected the lives of billions of Indians, turned into an animated debate revolving around Indira Gandhi and her governance. Distinct sides, either opposing or in favour of her policies were soon formed and the fierce deliberations reached a crescendo by the time the food arrived. 8 adults wielding knives and forks, shouting at the top of their voices would have been an intimidating scene for any outsider and I saw the poor waiters sneak in the food onto our tables silently lest they provoke any of us and get stabbed with steely knives! J There was no winner of course but the heated arguments were a stress relieving vent for all of us after the strenuous activities that day. The waiters and other onlookers were probably disappointed too as all that shouting didn’t result in any fisticuffs and blood!
The next morning, just before we departed, we gathered in the girls’ room, garbed in pieces of
traditional native clothing (all bought during the trip) for a group photo shoot. We then marched along to have breakfast at the Madras café located near the Shillong bus-stop that wasn’t too far away from the police bazaar. The food wasn’t all that great but it was fun talking to the proprietor about his migration to the north-east from the south.Though Guwahati is just about 100 kms away from Shillong and connected by NH-39, it takes about 3 hours by bus owing to the steep winding roads and I wasn’t keen on expunging the south Indian breakfast too soon. While planning for this trip, I had stumbled upon the Pawan Hans website that operates helicopters between these 2 cities and we were all excited to experience our first chopper ride! The Meghalaya Helicopter service operates right out of the bus station and elaborate forms have to be filled in before we get to buy tickets from the manager in his plush office. This helicopter ride must be the cheapest in the world since the prices were ridiculously low at 725/- pp. Nonetheless, I was still hoping on a discount given that we were buying all the seats! I later realised that the seating capacity of the chopper was exactly 8 with no space for luggage. So, Mr Pariaht,
who was the officer in charge was actually magnanimous in letting us all ride with our luggage in the same chopper! The ticket price also included a ride to the airport which was about 10 kms away. Since the air strip was also shared by the military choppers, photography was restricted but not prohibited. Our luggage was dumped at the back of the seats and after a few simple instructions about seating and safety, we lifted off! The noise within was quite high in spite of the comfy headphones that were provided. The pilot was informative and babbled on about the workings of his machine, the layout of the land below and much more for the entire length of the ride. The helicopter flew at a very low height and the imposing sight of the forests and greenery below was thrilling. It took just about 20 mins to reach Guwahati but it felt much shorter. At the Guwahati airport, we just had to pick our bags and walk out without having to wait at the conveyor belts, which was rather queer.Guwahati was where we had to disband since the return tickets back to Bangalore were booked in couples and quadruples on different airlines to maximise savings. We were all to fly to Calcutta first but not by the same flight. Sharath, Suresh, Vandy and Venky were flying together and their flight was in the early afternoon while Chiman, Chetana, Pratima and I were to fly to Calcutta by an evening flight. We still had the rest of the day to kill and after a quick farewell to the rest, hopped on to the first taxi that was headed towards the city which was 25 kms away from the airport. The driver suggested a restaurant for us to have lunch that was by far the best available in the whole of Guwahati according to him! The drive to ‘that’ restaurant took us a while and the food served was so pathetic and unhygienic that all we hardly ate anything. One of the must-see places for me was the Brahmaputra River that flows right through the city. This is probably the only river with a masculine name in India and at places it is as wide as 10 kms wide! We got off at the city centre near the banks of the river and started walking along to get a feel of the place. Ferries and pleasure boats are located all along the river and it was fun to observe life around the river. The courtrooms or Kacheri Ghat on the bank provided ferries to Peacock Island, which is a small landmass with a hillock housing the Umananda Temple. As the ferry took off, I realised how wide the river really was since I had seen on the maps that Brahmaputra was at its narrowest when it flows near Guwahati. And at its narrowest point, the banks looked miles apart!
The Umananda temple is located at the center of the island on the top of a hillock. The island had a mix of Bamboo and evergreen tropical trees and is rocky at some parts and littered at most parts! The
climb to the top is by a bridled path with steps. On the way up, I was excited when I spotted a golden langur sitting quite close to our path. When we got closer, we were rather surprised to note that the langur hardly moved and even allowed himself to be fed by us! Golden Langurs are endemic primates but are restricted to Assam and Bhutan and thus was an uncommon sight for us. The shopkeeper nearby enlightened us that these langurs were harmless and are so accustomed to humans that you can sit right next to them and feed them by hand which is what Chetana did! At closer scrutiny, I sensed a forlorn look that was probably accounted by their constrained environment on the small island. The temple itself is quite small, with the sanctum sanctorum located below ground level. The Sanctorum is lit by wick lamps since hardly any sunlight falls inside. The burning lamps and the darkness surrounding it create an atmosphere of obvious peace though. We took the same cruise back to Kacheri ghat.We had enough time to have lunch and squeeze in another destination and we chose the Kamakhya temple located on another small hilltop. Private buses/taxis were plying frequently between our spot and the temple and we hopped onto one to reach the Nilachal foothills. The Kamakhya temple’s presiding deity is the Devi Kamakhya though there is no idol image within the premises; only a sculptured image of the Devi’s passage of birth exists which is revered by thronging devotees. The temple basically is a natural cave with a spring. Down a few steps inside the hill into the cave there is a dark, mysterious chamber where wrapped in a silk sari and adorned with flowers is kept the symbolic passage of birth or the Yoni of the Goddess. The temple was presumably closed when we visited and thus wasn’t really crowded. The temple complex has a multitude of shrines of other goddesses like Lakshmi, Saraswathi, Kali etc and it took us a while to visit some of them. It was time for our flight back to Calcutta and off we went towards the airport.
Calcutta chronicles II:
Chetana and Pratima were to take a flight to Hyderabad the same day while Chiman and I were to fly directly to Bangalore the next day. After bidding farewells, off we went to the familiar confines of SharaNI lodge to stay for the night. I had a strange feeling of coming ‘home’ that night though we were a couple of days away from real home!
The eternal cricket fanatic that I’m, the Eden gardens was one place I had to visit while in Calcutta. This is the oldest cricket ground in India and surely rates among the best cricketing fields in the world. Chiman and I found our way to the grounds that morning but were surprised to see all gates closed. A security guard manning the precincts directed us towards an adjoining gate but we soon realised that there was simply no entry into the grounds. We later learnt that Saurav Ganguly was presumably practicing inside and thus there was no access to us mere mortals. Similar to other cricket stadiums in India, the Eden gardens too has acres of play area outside the stadium which was filled by weekend revellers playing cricket and its myriad variants. It was fun to walk through though we had to be constantly on the lookout for stray missiles in the form of cricket balls. We spent at least a couple of hours strolling around the Esplanade and Eden gardens area before heading over to have lunch at the ‘Grain of Salt’ restaurant located not far from the American Embassy. Sanjeev Kapoor is probably the only other name other than Tarla Dalal whose name is recognised in the food domain in India and this restaurant was his brain child. I expected the prices to be similar to star restaurants of Bangalore but was pleasantly surprised to note that the lunch buffet was priced at almost half the price of what we usually pay in Bangalore! The Live pasta and sushi counters were impressive and the overall food per se was awesome. It was time to head back home finally after being on the road for close to 2 weeks.
Epilogue:
North-East India is ethnically, linguistically and culturally very different from the other states of India as was plainly visible during our travel. The chicken’s neck connection, which is all of 21 kms wide, to the rest of India and the abysmally low political representation has contributed towards a feeling of isolation amongst its residents which gets compounded with the lack of intent from our politicians to improve infrastructure owing to the small electorate. Being home to many ethnic groups that are more intent on self-preservation, regional conflicts have sprung up that has led to a proliferation of armed insurgent groups serving individualistic needs. New Delhi is closer to Guwahati than Bangalore; but the psychological distance is far greater! The Indian media largely tends to focus on ethnic conflicts rather than the phenomenal developmental efforts and drug trafficking rather the amazing rock music culture that pervades Meghalaya. In the psyche of the general populace there is the impression that nothing really happens in the region apart from violence by insurgents with a focus on killings, kidnappings and extortions. The sensationalism with which the region is reported has become a norm in national newspapers and media. The media sort of associates the north eastern states with unfamiliar cultural practices which leads us to differentiate ‘them’ from ‘us’. An effective way to erode this ignorance is to go there! J We surely belonged and felt at home while we were there.
It is always fun to make new friends and this trip was no exception. Pratima and Sharath were 2nd degree acquaintances to me before the trip and were now good friends.
