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.