Part 8 Aug 13^th  2011

Shillong-Cherrapunji


We were supposed to report at the Meghalaya Tourism office at 8.30 a.m. Accordingly we finished breakfast of some Gujrati-Marwadi delicacies at a sweetmeat shop, located conveniently next to the hotel. The place was full with what seemed like the tourist crowd. We had decent breakfast with again some ‘milky’ tea. As we neared the Meghalaya Tourism office we saw a middle-age couple waiting there. It was about twenty five minutes past eight. Then next the bus was there and a young chap was ushering us in the bus. He said there were some more passengers yet to report and hence we waited patiently. In a quarter of an hour we had started on the journey- to Cherrapunji. I call this my ‘6th standard geography textbook’ trip. I had never even realised that I had this wish until this joy I felt made me realise that this was indeed a wish! We had moved out of Shillong going up and down the hill. It had been drizzling continuously since morning and the surroundings were under a blanket of mist; almost reluctant to get out of it. The middle-age couple was sitting ahead of us and I heard them chatting in Marathi. I was curious of finding someone from so near in a faraway land and initiated a conversation with them. And that was the extent of my effort to this ‘conversation’! The lady was politely interested but the man was suffering from a severe case of verbal diarrhoea. For the next three-fourths of an hour I was at the receiving end of a nonstop monologue on every topic under the sun. The wife grunted in between and Sudha smirked at what was a situation I had brought upon myself. But the worst feature of this situation was the spits of red betel juice coming our way whenever this person turned around to emphasize a point in his monologue. Sudha and I had already tried out every position and placed ourselves so as to avoid this unwanted shower. I tried looking out of the window to show this person how interested I was to take in the vista outside but to little success. Some of bits I listened to told me that he was an executive with the telecom company, BSNL. His wife had just joined him here and hence they were taking this trip to get familiar with the region. Since his wife suffered with motion sickness they were taking this day trip; probably that betel juice shower was the real reason for a motion sickness. It was sometime before he took the hint and we couldn’t help giggling as soon as he turned his back to us. After the storm the calm was more cherished and we truly started taking in the pictures coming in through the window.

It was a very different terrain to what I had ever seen or maybe I should say it was a very different ‘arrangement’ of the terrain. There were enormous meadows on both sides to give an impression of plain lands stretching themselves to the horizon. But suddenly these meadows had drops of thousands of feet to the real plains. These plains then stretched themselves to the horizon with numerous swamps and a boundless sky overhead, full of clouds. These plains, we were later to be informed, were part of the famous Ganges delta of Bangadesh. At places where the fog was dense, one felt these ‘High’ fields themselves were the limit and then just as we turned the corner those sudden cliffs came into picture. Further this landscape was sprinkled with signs of inhabitation in forms of concrete hamlets. There was hardly any human presence around on this lazy Sunday morning but alternately the faithful must be at the Sunday mass. A church spire was visible even in the smallest of the settlement. The human presence was somewhat surprisingly confirmed by lines of clothing put out for drying. Suddenly we stopped and our guide for the day introduced himself. He was a post graduate student at the university reading English literature. He didn’t mention the nature of his job with the tourism office but it must be one of those summer jobs. He informed us that the place we had stopped at was the site of a gruesome battle in the 1971 war for liberation of Bangladesh. The bridge we had just crossed been the point of contention and it was damaged badly then. Just a few meters ahead were steps taking us to a vantage point for clear views of nearby waterfalls. We got down finding some souvenir shops around selling handmade bamboo articles. I took a few steps towards the bridge and sent out a prayer towards the selfless soldiers who had lost their lives, on both sides. We ran down the steps to view the waterfall next. There was a long vista of overlapping hills and a river running in between too, exactly as one draws when a child. We took some snaps to show our appreciation and were ready to leave. The ‘latecomers’ who had delayed our departure in the morning were delaying it now too. I guessed they were a bunch of men from some non-descript office here on either an official trip or an office picnic. They had been getting very friendly with another of our fellow passenger, a French lady. She, a professor was in this region on an exchange programme. This group of men were busy clicking pictures with her at every scenic point, which had started irritating everyone including our guide.

The bus finally moved ahead. We were passing through a hilly region now and the middle-age Marathi lady was experiencing motion sickness. And then the inevitable happened. On the floor of the bus! I have an unsympathetic view about this; that people should be prepared beforehand by means of self knowledge. Everyone cringed and trying to divert our attention the guide started to describe our next destination, the start point of the ‘seven sisters’ waterfall’. These are seven waterfalls one after the other coming down a continuous cliff in the shape of ‘u’. They are named after the seven states of NE, popularly also called the ‘seven sister’ states. By this time we were inside a fenced area and there seemed a viewing area all set with decorative railing ahead. Sudha and I rushed ahead to see a small stream coming quietly towards the edge of what seemed a cliff running down to hundreds of meter. Just before it vanished from our view it dashed on a rock jutting out of the cliff. The tranquillity of the stream was all gone and under the influence of gravity this stream dashed down with such force as if to cut itself into millions of droplets all white, foamy with the force. The sheer vigour it was giving out was arresting to the visitor. We shifted our gaze ahead to the green mountains and beyond it the blue ones. Again they were an omnipresent factor on this trip. But beyond this point was that plain surface sprinkled with green and blue exactly like the satellite pictures of earth. It excited everyone to see these plains of Bangladesh.

 

 

With our sight we were in that beautiful neighbouring country of India. One couldn’t have enough of the spectacle but we started circling the railing in contemplation. At this point we realised that more than three quarters in the trip and we didn’t have a single picture of us together. We immediately set out to remedy the situation and asked a couple passing by to click us. It turned out to be a beautiful picture with all the green and blue in the back ground. There was still time to start to our next stopover and we moved into a restaurant standing alone next to the parking area. Only black tea was available and we accepted it happily. There was some European league football match on and the cook was as engrossed in it as the other customers. We too enjoyed it till it was time to move on.

The next we stopped at what seemed like a rocky outcrop but actually was one of the most famous cave of Meghalaya. Meghalaya is as famous for its caves as for Cherrapunji. I remembered seeing a documentary sometime back on what is called ‘cave diving’. Many of the caves are full of dark water with the stalactites hanging from the top to give it a eerie atmosphere; these caves attract the adventurers who part walk part swim to cross through them. I was very happy that we were doing nothing of such kind and were just going to go through the cave. We were given elaborate instructions about everything from bats to unknown creatures lurking in the puddles of water to mind the overhanging stalactites. Then we were very strictly told about the road to be followed, first right, then left, then right and what not along with the warning that one wrong turn would leave us in a blind alley and maybe circling inside till we were rescued. My heart was already beating faster and I was feeling so very alive. Leaving our footwear we moved into the dark hole ahead. After adjusting our eyes to the darkness inside we inspected those million year old stalactite formations. There were some strategically placed lights inside but giving only that much radiance to show the path and without disturbing the atmosphere. We passed on sometimes bowing and sometimes hopping towards a bridge and here I banged my head. Ahhh…but no damage done we moved to what seemed like the exit, the light at the end of the tunnel. Sudha clicked a picture of me as we were coming out of it and I treasure it as much.

The others were yet to come out and we inspected some of the small shops surrounding the entrance. This seemed like a popular stop on the tourist sector judging by the no of shops. Perched on a ‘Nescafe’ machine I saw an extremely beautiful butterfly. It had shiny black wings with a sky blue border. Was it the famous species ‘Kaiser-e-hind’ (emperor of India) who had dropped by to have a cup of Nescafe just like us mortals? Maybe! As I was clicking it another one with rusty brown wings came for a coffee. This made the black and blue one to move on to the toffee jars, maybe they had had a fight?

It was around eleven and the sky had started to clear out. We were next taken to a place with beautiful views of the Bangladeshi plains. Everyone rushed down excitedly to have a sight of this ‘foreign’ country, especially the office picnic troupe. Maybe they were especially patriotic with a fascination for everything ‘foreign’. The view in front of us was simply exquisite. From this particular vantage point the plains had spread over the whole vista. They were coloured green, blue, like earlier but now the browns were visible too. The scene changed in between when the sunlight directly fell on those small water bodies turning them into molten gold. We took in the whole landscape in awe. Nearby I noticed a bee buzzing on a wildflower and clicked it to complete the picture of this memory. From this splendour of nature we moved to a park famous for its orchids. Ofcourse we knew what was coming next- there wouldn’t be any of them now as it wasn’t the season. There was a plant nursery with some exquisite collection we would be able to visit though. This place was blooming with flowers as we entered. There were many fruit trees planted in between some kiosks used for picnics. One was actually on and all of them gave us a smile. The guide later informed us that most of the defence personnel bring their families on outing here. I liked the thought so much, here in cities we have almost forgotten about picnics. We moved around the place, moving from shadow to light and vice versa. Even after a circumambulation of the whole place we couldn’t find this nursery and started towards the exit and there it was. I’m not very knowledgeable about different flora but I’m a fan of the greens and was enjoying the experience. The attendant called my attention to a particular plant but I couldn’t see how it was interesting. It looked like part climber part plant somewhat similar to a money plant but this lady was gesturing as if it was the showstopper here. I obliged and clicked a picture just to make her happy and made my exit. Outside I narrated the incident to Sudha and she said, “You idiot! It was that famous carnivorous plant.” Errr..I didn’t know that. She then informed me that there’s a story about it in Satyajit Ray’s famous ‘Feluda’ series. Or was it Byomkesh Bakshi? I was hooked and after coming back I bought the whole Feluda series and read it from cover to cover but didn’t find a story about it. There is just a mention of it by Jatayu once. Maybe it is a Byomkesh Bakshi mystery. However I was extremely happy to have seen this extremely singular example of nature. Isn’t this what travel is all about?

We next came to the workshop of a traveller with purpose. The Ramkrishna Mission started by Swami Vivekanada. The North east of India has always had a majority of tribal population. At the time when the mainland India was immersed in the singular aim of freedom from the British, it was the missionaries both Christian and native who took it upon them to introduce the tribals to modern science, healthcare and education. There is a very interesting book by Alexander Frater, ‘Chasing the monsoons’. The author stirred by his passion for the monsoons undertakes a journey through India which reaches its climax in Cherrapunji. The author’s great uncle a Scotsman, a missionary lived and worked in these parts taking back a picture and many stories from this region which actually triggered this journey taken by his descendant. The selfless and dedicated work by these missionaries actually reflects in the ‘civilized’ thoughts and existence of the people of this region as compared to the mainland population. The Mission here apart from the schools and hostels holds a very informative anthropological museum for the whole region. This place essentially explained the whole demographics of the region and introduced us to the lifestyle of the people. I was so engrossed in the displays that I had to run back to the bus when I heard it honking for me.

We were finally in Cherrapunji now. The Mecca of all monsoon lovers? We passed the post office and I clicked to take the picture back as a souvenir.

 

Cherrapunji is a small hamlet with its rains as its claim to fame. We passed it to move into the countryside. The place had only green grasslands stretching all the way to the horizon where it met the overhanging dark clouds. It could start raining anytime. Yes, everything definitely resembled the Scottish landscape. Alexander Frater’s ancestor must have felt at home here. Through all this we were heading towards world’s fourth highest waterfall. But here the journey was as inviting as the destination. In a while we reached a fenced portion with some shacks around. These were restaurants catering to the tourists and each had a balcony with one of the most overwhelming views. The lunch arrangements were already made and all of us rushed towards the viewing gallery. Indeed this must be world’s one of the most enormous waterfalls. The display was overwhelming; even though we were hundreds of meters away we could feel the droplets from the waterfall. What was endearing was the setting. The cliff where the fall was originating was surrounded on all sides by green hills with the water-body where it concluded placed in a deep valley. The scene was unspoiled by any human intervention. We reluctantly moved inside for our lunch but kept peeking out of the windows in between to take in this beauty. As we were getting ready to board the bus back to Shillong it started raining. And it was the perfect climax for a visit to Cherrapunji. I stepped out in the rain to let those drops slide over me; to memorize that smell. That was when it sunk in- my visit to the wettest place on earth. We noticed a lady selling pineapples and decided to try them. She was a local and was covered in the traditional rain gear. She was probably the most cheerful stranger I’ve ever met who sold us the sweetest pineapple I’ve ever had. And we started our journey back on this sweet note.

It was an uninterrupted travel back to Shillong. The scenes passed one another like a motion picture. The glen sprinkled here and there with the hamlets the again those green hills and the Bangladeshi plains stretching to the horizon. There were cemeteries on the outskirts of the villages dating maybe hundreds of years back. All those missionaries from different corners of the world all resting in peace under the vast open sky. There were clouds hanging from the sky now which itself had spread to infinity. This display of clouds on the canvas of the sky gives Meghalaya its name- the abode of clouds.

 

Contemplating over the day’s happening, we had already reached Shillong and the practicalities of life. Hence we crossed over from the Meghalaya tourism office to the bus station to enquire about the timings of the buses leaving for Guwahati the next day. We were planning to reach Guwahati by evening to rest and board our train back to Calcutta the very next day at noon. As usual there was no one at the ‘enquiries’ and we peeped inside a couple of doors to find an official sitting behind one of them. He was first of all surprised to hear that we were travelling tomorrow. He asked, “Do you know the date tomorrow?” “It is the 14^th of August”, we answered in unison. He raised his eyebrows and told us in a matter of fact manner that there won’t be any buses for any destinations tomorrow evening. He kindly advised us to leave for Guwahati tomorrow morning as early as possible. We knew it was the Independence day eve tomorrow but still couldn’t grasp the seriousness of the event here. We planned for a 9’o clock start and proceeded towards our hotel for rest. As we reached the Police Bazaar road we peeped in a few shops. The Naga shawls were extremely beautiful but voluminous and I thought about my poor bag before withdrawing my offer for it. We window shopped for a while and also collected some assorted food items like sandwiches, rolls, pastries which were to formulate into our dinner. By the time we came back to our room we were tired on our feet and had an early night.

Part 7 Aug 12^th  2011

 

Guwahati-Shillong.


Packing, paying up the bill, we were ready by 7 in the morning to zoom off to Shillong. The LP instructed us to cross over through the railway station and catch a bus from the Paltan Bazaar bus station located on the other side. In 3 and 1/2 hours we would be in Shillong. Accordingly on reaching the bus station, we came to knew that the bus to Shillong would take another three quarters of an hour to start. In a moment a couple of touts came up to us and suggested we take the shared jeeps. It was only a short journey, so we agreed and made our way to the jeeps. We had acquiesced on the only condition that we would get the middle seats; we were wiser after the Silliguri- Gangtok journey. Smirking we got in to realise we were the first and hence there hadn’t been any special smartness on our side to get those middle seats. The jeep driver had to get the other passengers yet. So making us sit in the jeep the guy went away again to look for them. Taking our cue we too got down and went for breakfast at a nearby roadside food stall. The rush at the place gave us the impression that food here would surely be tasty. Indeed the aloo paratha was tasty, but it was floating in oil. I'm quite finicky about food but oily food isn’t a point of contention in it. This time though the situation was different. Gulping it down with some hot tea we rushed to the jeep. It had started to fill up and in a few minutes we had embarked on our journey.     We had not been to 'this' side of Guwahati. Here it looked more like a city though without any individuality. The roads were wide, laid out with proper demarcations for pavements which led to flashy buildings, malls and otherwise. Absolutely indifferentialble from any other Indian city unlike the Brahmaputra side we had visited yesterday. It is the same with every city in India where the pre-colonial architecture being the only distinctive feature for today’s visitor. One would have felt after independence there would have been conscious effort in the building activity to reflect the principals on which the ‘independence’ movement was fought. Alas that wasn’t the case; the post-independence structures are more identical to the matchbox mentality than ever. One wonders if the generation of the next millennia would have anything at all to feel the awe as we have for the Indus valley architecture. Without a choice, we zoomed on to reach Dispur, the administrative capital of Assam about half an hour later. There isn’t much to it except one campus gate of a government department followed by another.

Now we were moving south and in just about a couple of minutes we had crossed over to Meghalaya. The immediate change in the scenery, the people, actually everything around was staggering. First there were open spaces on both sides of the road full of trucks and tankers. Now I got the meaning when they called these national highways the lifelines in NE. Once we had passed this congregation of transport we were out in a splash of green and brown. A very deep green and a very rusty brown. Though the trees weren’t high enough or even dense enough to block out sunlight for a moment I got an impression of the Amazonian forests of South America. Maybe it was the feeling of 'wetness'. There was ongoing work for road widening, and hence all that wet brown sand was visible. They were actually slicing the hills, to make plain grounds for the road. The roads on this side were lined with road rollers, labourers, cement mixers and what not. In contrast on the otherside was a world far removed, could be hundred, thousand years before or after. The greens had spread themselves till the horizon with just a peeping of brown in between. The driver was very cheerful about the future double lane highway. I thought he would be, after experiencing his rash driving till now. He had a very peculiar habit of opening the car door after an interval of every fifteen minutes to spit out the tobacco and betel he was chewing continuously. The first time he had done that I could have screamed. The car running at a speed of 50- 60 kms/hr and the driver side door opening, and whishhh the driver disappearing out to spit and in that same motion coming back! What an event! I wondered about this fascination with tobacco; it was omnipresent in this trip- from Silliguri to Sikkim, Bhutan to Assam and now here in Meghalaya.

 The kid sitting next to Sudha was making noise now and it brought me out of my reverie. He was with his mum who had disclosed to us that she lived in a village just outside Shillong and hence would be getting down there. After a while on a stretch of road passing through the forest we had the first view of the 'tribes'. There were small bamboo huts with thatch roofing almost undecipherable in the forest. The women were wearing a kind of a shroud knotted on one shoulder. This is the traditional dress of the ‘khasi’ tribe while the shroud when knotted on both shoulders indicated the ‘garo’ tribe. Or maybe I’m mixing it up. As we neared Shillong we noticed girls wearing western clothes or even saris with this shroud over it. It was quite amusing but I digested the deep meaningfulness of this custom after some thought. Even the breeze had turned slightly cooler as we had started climbing the hill. Shillong is one of the many 'hill stations' built by the British all over India. It played a very important role during the British rule with it being the capital of what was then the Assam province compromising of today's whole of North East India.

The populous surroundings announced the city and in a few moments we were dropped off at a junction; the out station vehicles not being allowed within city limits. The reason was clear in a while. The roads which were built more than a hundred years before to cater a population of a thousand odd inhabitants were now choked with millions. As our taxi got stuck in a traffic block, the taxi driver casually mentioned this as an everyday event. The plight of these hill stations was there for us to see and feel. There were defence campuses on both sides with both the Territorial Army and the paramilitary making their presence felt. They were intercepted with a sprinkling of churches, museums, and schools. Some schools in Shillong are a century old but still quite famous in the whole of NE region. Through the windows I noticed a lot of young Nanos ferrying around, many in the black and yellow taxi colours along with the grand old Maruti 800s. It felt as if a small kid was going out on a walk holding his grandpa's hand; no one knew who was supporting whom. After a long drive we reached the Police Bazaar road, a ridge through which roads run out in all directions. The LP suggested a nice hotel right at this junction and we pinned down on it. We later realised the usefulness of this location. The hotel was nice and clean. After freshening up we went in for lunch at the roof top restaurant. And surprisingly here in Meghalaya, only Bengali food was served. Sudha had her favourite fish. I wasn’t in a mood to compromise after the breakfast disaster and hence after Sudha’s meal we moved to find a place for my choice of lunch. This was a chic restaurant on the other side of the ridge and I enjoyed my meal as much as Sudha. It was the same paneer butter masala after a lengthy deliberation over it against something light. I always wonder if any other human being puts so much thought over everyday food? After the sumptuous meal and wading the temptation of dessert away we asked for directions to Ward’s lake (we had decided on it earlier) here and inturn got some detailed but bewildering answers. We were given a few landmarks to follow on our way and in the quest of these we almost didn’t reach our destination. We passed some beautiful leafy lanes and winding alleys, taking in a Tudor roof church on our way and this theme stretched itself all the way to the lake. This must have been the centre of activity in the raj era. The whole atmosphere was so reminiscent of England on a sunny afternoon. We reached the Ward’s lake. Till the time we were buying our tickets I had my doubts about this place but once inside they all vanished in a whoof.

If earlier we were reminded of England earlier the park immediately transferred us to England and its greens. It would be an understatement to say it was beautiful. That feel of nature in its most ad hoc state but which one knows is achieved by meticulous planning was present here. We started moving on the pathway taking in the trees and the courting couples under them hiding from the prying eyes under sun umbrellas. Here and there we had a fleeting glimpse of the lake. We walked in the direction of this mirage and were bestowed one the most beautiful sights of our lives. The lake was green as if overwhelmed by the surrounding trees keeping the reflection of ‘blue’ sky away. But this serene green was carpeted by the most besieging pink lotuses. Hundreds and hundreds of them in every possible shade of pink! I couldn’t stop myself once I started clicking; taking the wide shots of this splendour, framing for a single alluring lotus to casing two, three, four together. On Sudha’s plea we moved on and stared to encircle the lake. This inorganically shaped lake is at the centre of the park with a pathway running around its edge. The surroundings are randomly planted shrubs, flowering plants and trees on well manicured lawns. The place is sprinkled with odd benches and gazebos too. There is a small plaque in memory of William Ward, the chief commissioner of Assam of whose efforts in 1893 we enjoying the fruits now in 2011. I sent out a silent ‘thank you’ to him and moved ahead. We reached a bridge and crossed over. The sun was shining down making the water shimmer. One part of the lake was completely covered with lotuses turning into that red and pink carpet. Here we too relaxed beneath a tree and dozed off on the grass, getting up only when the sun changed its angle and all the crawling insects came on to us. There is boating facility on the lake but we skipped it and took our exit. The map in LP informed us of the presence of botanical garden just next to the lake. We wandered off in search of its entrance, winding our way through two to three private properties and  finally reaching the garden. It is placed behind a shabby PWD structure housing the state government’s environmental division. One has to tread through rubbish to reach the garden. To top it all, the place wasn’t impressive except the canopy of trees, all green around us. The cement pathway was covered with moss and it looked quite beautiful though it was slippery to walk on it. There were cement shelters in between and we noticed a young girl and boy in one of it. They were actually holding some papers which were aflame. I wondered if they have just finished an exam for an unpleasant subject. Anyways this was more or less the atmosphere of the place. A short walk around was enough appreciation for all the nature around.

 

 

Outside it was scorching hot and we started moving back towards our hotel. I suggested the same way back but Sudha was in the mood for exploration. Grudgingly I followed her. We started on a winding downhill road flanked on both sides by cottages and other detached houses in the hues of ochre and browns. Every house had a garden and it was visible that it was cared for. In this bright sunlight it felt as if the whole world around was aglow. But after a walk of more than half an hour I was too tired and just wanted to get out of the heat. We asked around for directions and again started our trek, this time uphill. The trail, now through narrow winding lanes with houses sharing walls and not even an inch of space to be spared for a green patch we finally entered what people informed us was the Police Bazaar road. After a while we came near the State bus station and just opposite it was the Meghalaya tourism office. We entered in to come face to face with a very pretty lady. All the time in Shillong we had noticed a subtle sophistication in the people around, especially the females. Usually in India a stylish person stands out in a crowd but here- no. Style was everywhere from the funky shoes to trendy dresses to the mannerisms. Quite impressed we asked the lady about day trips to Cherrapunji- the earlier wettest place on earth and Mawsinyaram- the current wettest place on earth. She informed us that they still had daily tours for Cherrapunji and not Mawsinyaram. I guessed for the tourists Cherrapunji was still the winner even if technically the crown was now on the other head. We decided to visit Cherrapunji like everyone else. I was secretly very happy. There standing in that office I remembered that paragraph from the sixth class geography textbook reporting ‘Cherrapunji’ as the wettest place on earth. The rains so heavy, falling like sheets of water from the heaven. There and then in that dim lighted classroom I had imagined sitting inside a dwelling in that faraway place and peeping through the window to view this phenomenon. And tomorrow I was actually going to go to that place! I can’t even call it a dream because it was maybe just a vague thought passing through my mind. But this delight that I was feeling, with that receipt in my hand telling me to be here tomorrow at 8.30 a.m to board a bus to Cherrapunji, confirmed its existence. All the irritation and fatigue of the long walk had gone and we moved towards our hotel in a happy state of mind. Sudha rested for a while and I did some channel surfing, secretly smirking thinking about tomorrow. We had to yet taste the tea in Meghalaya and we went out in quest of it.

We chose one of the numerous roads running from the Police Bazaar square, this time albeit in the opposite direction of Ward’s lake. This street was a choc a block with evening shoppers enjoying the display of clothes, shoes etc. after a while the scenery changed and clothes and shoes had made space for more utilitarian everyday requirements like bi-cycles, grocery, or even a tea shop. We enquired the prices but what was the use of buying ‘Assam’ tea in ‘Meghalaya’. We moved on. There were a few tea and sweetmeat shops around and we entered one such to order tea and samosa. The faces all around seemed locals; looking our way with curiosity. The tea was refreshing and we were ready for some exploration. We didn’t turn back towards our hotel but moved on ahead. We passed some local residential neighbourhood; not as affluent as the one we had encountered in the afternoon. There was a kind of commotion going on and on observing on close quarters we realised it was all for the daily water supply. Yes, here in Shillong, in the neighbourhood of Cherrapunji, people were crowding around a single tap to fill water for their daily chores. Seeing the elaborate arrangements we realised this to be a daily errand. We moved ahead and passed a local market of sorts, full of hardware stores around. In a while we had reached the roundabout of the junction where we were dropped off in the morning. Now we knew our current location and aligned ourselves accordingly to walk back. This roundabout route had turned out to be longer than our anticipation and there was still some way to go. It had been more than an hour on the road and we were tired. We passed all those defence establishments although this time at a slower pace to peek in. ‘Discipline’ was the word, from humans to structures to even gardens. At a traffic signal we confirmed with a police if we were on the right road. A beautiful church came to view a little ahead with immaculately carved Facia, painted a bright red. Like the morning Tudor church this too wasn’t very big but had a beautiful yester world feel to it. In a while we reached the place of my lunch and in a few minutes to our hotel. Our feet were aching and we decided to do no more exploration today, instead preserve our energies for tomorrow. Sudha isn’t much interested in TV and I had the remote with me. As I was switching channels Sudha squealed “Stop, Stop.” I realised it was a black & white picture and on the appearance of Audrey Hepburn that it was the ‘Roman Holiday’. Audrey was waltzing away with different partners and we couldn’t guess if it was starting or the ending sequence. But when the scene moved to her palace and the “Yes, thank you” and “No, thank you” one we screamed aloud in delight. It was the start and both of us relaxed to enjoy the movie. Gregory Peck and Audrey delighted us to no ends and we were absolutely back to our cheerful selves. By this time even the faintest of the strain regarding the argument at the Alipurduar station had vanished and we were completely enjoying ourselves. It was quite late when the movie ended and a quick look at the street below told us that Shillong had called it a day. We too acquiesced.