Part 11: A day in Calcutta.

August 17th 2011

The train reached Howrah station in the most slow and lethargic movements as if she had run out of all her steam to transfer us here. But thankfully she made it to the end. It was about half past five. We moved out of the dimly lit station and asked for the Yatri Niwas. It was just next door and on enquiry we came to knew that passengers possessing a valid ticket can stay at the place for 48 hours. I only needed to stay twenty four hours so my problem was solved! They could keep all the remaining hours with them, ha ha ha, coz tomorrow morning I would be off in my Duronto train to Pune. Though the trip had been absolute fun it had been equally unpredictable and I was happy to go to the comforts and routine of home. Sudha came up with me to see the place. At an government run place one never knows what to expect. We inspected the room which was spic and span but somehow it gave me the ageing impression. I don't know why it was so grey, everything from the wall paint to the bedsheets to the washroom tiles. We saw a door at the other end of the room and opening came upon the stupendous sight of the Ganges. I know this river is called Hooghly and actually is a tributary of the Ganges but it's sheer size makes me call it the Ganges itself. The balcony had the famous Howrah bridge on it's left, the Ganges surging ahead and a street full of yellow taxis below.

 It was so soothing to watch that slow flow of taxis where they brought passengers from maybe different parts of Calcutta and dropped them inturn to again form a line to pick up passengers for some other part of Calcutta. I came out of my reverie and said goodbyes to Sudha. She was heading to her cousin's place somewhere south. We made a tentative plan to meet around four at Kalighat, but I was to keep her informed during the day how I'm progressing on my plan. I had a nice bath and refreshed; I was ready for  'a day in Calcutta.'
In accordance with yesterday's discussion  I had decided to start the day at Flury's. It's a cafe from the days of the British. As it is also mentioned in my favourite book by Vikram Seth I headed straight for it. It was not yet quarter past seven but Sudha had assured me it is a famous breakfast haunt so it would be open by the time I reach there. So heading out I hailed the yellowest taxi in sight and we started speeding towards Calcutta. The Howrah station in Howrah being on one side and Calcutta on the other with the Ganges flowing in between. The two sides are connected by the pre-independence Howrah bridge, a single span bridge. Because of this engineering feat it is quite famous all over India still. I too took part in this feat and our taxi crossed over to the official Calcutta. As always I came across an extremely talkative taxi driver. And we talked about everything from my hometown Pune to his hometown Dhanbad. He then informed me that I was lucky to come today as the weather was much better as it had rained earlier in the week. The guy knew everything in the world except the address I wanted to go to-the Park Street Post office. My LP map was my guide today and it showed Flury's diagonally opposite the Post Office. So we had a nice ride around the leafy lanes and asking around finally he dropped me there. Now the thing I've always noted with LP maps is if I follow it I end up in the wrong directions. I wonder if they are mirror images of the original. Here too as I started following it I sensed something wrong. I asked a lady and she said I was going in the wrong direction (as usual!) and she would walk me there as it was on her way. We started talking and she told me that she worked at an airlines office nearby. By the time I narrated a brief account of the trip we had come to a square and she pointed the pink 'Flury's board on the other side. She wished me a nice day in Calcutta and I proceeded forward.

Thank god the place was open, though just. I entered the place and looked around to savour the atmosphere. There is  a patisserie counter  ahead just as you enter and the sit down restaurant on the left. I turned left and settled into a corner table. The waiter came along and brought the pink menu card. That colour itself was so cute, who wouldn't want to see it first thing in the morning. Anyways I selected some cheese and tomato croissant and cappuccino. And as the waiter turned and left to bring my order I took out a camera to capture the table setting. As a memory. In a while a gentleman came and the waiter welcomed him with a smile. He ordered his usual breakfast,must be some local patron. I was wondering what this 'usual' must be but by the time I was done with my yummy and choicest breakfast in a while and it was time for next destination.
The doorman pointed me in the direction of Victoria Memorial and I moved ahead. Turning left, right I wandered on to the main road. This was lined by old derelict structures, mostly office buildings. The place was abuzz with office goers and it wasn't even half past eight yet. Maybe here in the eastern part of India this is their way of daylight saving in the absence of different time zones in a huge country like India. After a while huge open spaces opened up on my right. These were the famous 'maidans'- central open spaces of Calcutta, still surviving from the British era. I moved ahead, after a while the Victoria Memorial came into view.

The structure was built to welcome Queen Victoria on her maiden visit to India and is an example of quintessentially Victorian architecture. The placed looked quite serene with it's surrounding green vista. I payed my customary ticket money to the Archeological Survey of India which it uses for the upkeep of these structures and sometimes add extremely ugly add ons to these places. The ticket vendor here was the only rude person I came across in Calcutta. Ignoring him I entered the place. There were many morning walkers inside, probably this is the Lodhi Gardens of Calcutta. After encircling the place I thought of seeing the museum it houses but it only opened at ten. So I went around and sat in peace to admire the structure from afar. It had become overcast by then and the whole place looked dream like under the diffused sun rays. As expected it started raining, the reflection of the memorial in the water body in front of it was sheer beauty. I consulted my map and the next destination was the Eden Gardens, India's biggest cricket stadium.

 

Whichever city I visit, I always make it a point to visit and click a snap of it's cricket stadium. For my mum. Yes,she's a cricket buff and always loves those pictures. And this was like the Mecca of Cricket. Now encircling the maidans I was walking back towards the city center. This was a pleasant walk to start with, under the shade of ancient tree canopies, yellow trams passing bye, the greens of the maidans sprinkled with a few people. But as time passed the pleasant walk stretched a bit too long. And there wasn't anyone other than me walking on the path. Cars were zooming past giving me strange stares. The map pointed to a point not too far but this was getting longer and longer and it wasn't that I was wearing trekking shoes. After a while I could spot the stadium but it was on the other side with a huge open space inbetween. After a while I finally reached it. The walk was worth it when I saw a picture of Rahul Dravid, my favourite cricketer.

I did what I had come to do i.e clicked some pictures. Now if I walked straight ahead I was to reach the Dalhousie/ BBD Baghdad square. It is the administrative head quarters since the British times. Now the road was lined with impressive Colonial structures all housing one or the other government offices. This another long walk culminated at the famous Writer's building which now houses the State Secretariat and I envision it with the Chief Minister, Mamta Banerjee. The place had a sprinkling of cops here and there. Here, in West Bengal the cops wear white instead of the customary Khaki all over India and it is a bit difficult to envision them as the police. I went to one of them and enquired if I could take a picture of the building. It is better to ask before clicking these days. As it is I could imagine the communist prison dungeons of Russia from different novels and movies, which must be the case here too as it was ruled by the Communist regime before Ms. Banerjee. The cop gave me a look over, thought for a while and said why not? He even suggested to click from the traffic island for a better frame. Happy, I clicked and crossed over to the other side of the square.

 

 Now I was moving towards the famous India Coffee House and the College street. I came across the State Tourism office and popped in.
The place was ancient. There were desks and chairs lined one after the other straight out of a 70's movie. I only wanted to enquire about the ferry's route and what all places I could touch if I take one. Sudha wasn't upto date on this and had suggested I ask some locals around. As I proposed my question the person attending to me passed it on the guy on the next desk. He inturn passed it on to the next desk. These Chinese whispers ended at a grey haired Official. He informed me that the ferries were available at the moment only between a ghat near the Esplanade to the other side of the Ganges,near the Howrah Station. This wasn't gud news as I could cover even lesser places if I had to travel by road. I thanked them and left after collecting some brochures. I noticed that the state tourism had some interesting trips to places like Sundarbans and even a package at the times of Durga Puja, the major festival here.
Now I had to consult my map quite often because the places had started to get confusing. There were too many narrow lanes which were at points where they were not supposed to be. Atleast according to my map. Now the sun too had come out and it was humid too. I walked along these lanes, crossed over to the other sides still the coffee house wasn't in sight. Finally I enquired at a shop but the shopkeeper was conversant only in Bengali. People in these parts aren't too fond of using Hindi, the national language. And even if they do try it is quite funny and its difficult to keep a straight face in front of them. I took a deep breath and again tried orienting myself with the help of the map, my dearest companion today. I got an inkling of the direction and only after a few meters at a small crossing, there it was- marked by a shiny steel plaque. The India Coffee House. This is one of the cafe not famous for it's coffee or snacks as much as being the place where students in the 70's discussed and brought forward new 'isms'. Once the concepts discussed here used to gather followers all over India. This was like the birth place of revolutionary thoughts of the youth then. After a while many 'India Coffee Houses' cropped up across the country, I think there's one in Delhi and one in some place in Kerala. I entered the place to taste the coffee but without any companion to brainstorm on any issue or 'ism'. There were high chairs and tables around and a self service counter in the front. I ordered a coffee and took some much needed rest after walking on since morning. But now as I looked around this place didn't look like the Coffee House I had seen in a food and travel programme on T.V. That place was much big and there was seating even on first floor where those ceiling fans were hung from double-height ceiling. This was some different place! I think I had goofed up! Well nothing could be done now. I looked around from my high chair and sipped the coffee. Just then my phone started ringing and it was Nivedita. I had met the Roy Chowdharys on a trip to Srilanka the previous year. We all had had fun on the Cook's tour and I was especially fond of their son Aditya. I had noted on the trip that at twelve itself he had developed his own thoughts and opinions on a humanitarian issue we had witnessed in Lanka. So I had informed Nivedita earlier about my trip and she had called to fix a time to meet. When I described my plan for the day she suggested I should meet them for dinner. We planned for around six in the evening as I thought then I could have around two hours with Sudha too. We decided to meet at a place called 'dakshinapan', a shopping centre in the south of the city. This place was down south than Kalighat where I was meeting Sudha so I patted myself for the smart thinking. Finishing the coffee I asked directions to the College Street.
I turned left as instructed and again started to walk. Again this turned out to be an extremely long walk, was I going to spend the day walking? Now the street was lined with kiosks full of books on both sides. Yes this   definitely looked the way I had pictured it after reading it's description. Two of my favourite literary characters Lata and Amit browse for books here selecting a few classics. But as I looked closely these were more of academic books. Now I went from one stall to another inspecting them but they were either law, medicine, engineering, or some competitive exam books. I had specially come here to buy a classic, as a memory of Lata and Amit. The place was abuzz with so many people that it was difficult to move around. I've heard there are many educational institutions on this road, hence this rush, maybe! After maybe looking around for atleast an quarter of an hour I came across a place selling secondhand paper backs. I usually don't go for them for issues of hygiene but here they were going to be a very special memorabilia. There were a few Sidney Sheldons and Daniel Steeles. That type of books. I spotted some Christies in between but they were all the one's I had already read. Finally I came across this book by Eric Newby a compilation of essays on travels, looked quite interesting. I immediately bought it. The next plan of action was to take a ferry ride on the Ganges.

I never miss out on a plan to be on a different element if I could. So I asked around for a tram-stop. Might as well try it till I was in Central Calcutta. Now, these tram stops are extremely difficult to spot, they are these invisible spots where all locals gather and make it a 'stop', I guess.  A girl pointed me to one and I waited to immediately catch one going to Esplanade. Oh wow, the ticket of the tram was so cute. It is a very thin strip of paper like the one's coming out of a shredder. I have no idea what was written on it but I've saved it till date. The tram was now moving back all the way on the route I had walked and I was looking at everything at a very different pace. And I liked it. What an amazing way to look at the world around, such a leisurely pace. All the buzz and activity now looked so interesting to look at, I wanted this tram ride to just go on. I could have sat there for the whole day and looked at people going about their lives. The tram came to a stop at it's final station, the Esplanade. The conductor told me to hop on a bus to the ferry terminus. And I followed his advice.
The ferry terminal wasn't what I expected. One has to go through narrow paths,coming out at an ancient ticket window. I bought a ticket for the Howrah station on the opposite side. This was a chance to view the Howrah Bridge in all it's glory and yes even click some pics. I was planning to take the same ferry back here. I hopped on and the ferry started. All the passengers were locals travelling on purpose. I clicked the Howrah Bridge to my content. This ferry instead of crossing the river was travelling parallel to the edge. The next stop to be on the same side probably so in a moment I decided to alight here as I had already seen the Howrah Bridge and I could save precious time. But as I was getting off,  the whole ferry was looking at me as if what a weird creature. Probably as I was getting off here at the wrong stop. Well I couldn't explain it to them all. I made my way towards the road. There was an old gentleman standing on the road. He was exactly like I  would have imagined a Bengali gentleman through descriptions in books and depictions in films. I asked him about the place from where I could get a bus for Dakshineswar. He immediately told me that it would be on the otherside of the block. I had gathered by now that I was somewhere near the Writer's building, a place I had passed bye in the morning. The old gentleman thought for a minute and then said to follow him. Errr.. I am very trusting type but still I followed him hesitantly. We crossed the roads, passed on through footpaths offering food to all types of office goers. Omg and suddenly I realised it was past one and I was hungry but now there was no time to eat. We passed on and came to the other side, here he stopped a bus. I couldn't see a bus stop anywhere around but the bus stopped on this guy's one shout. He asked the conductor something in Bengali, I think it was if the bus would go all the way to Dakshineswar. I boarded the maroon bus, somewhere between a bus and a mini bus. The gentleman bade me goodbye and I was struck by the person's selfless act. This is what I like about travelling in India, absolute strangers help you out without any selfish motive. The bus was full and I got the only seat in the front row. The best seat. I realised it after a while when the bus took to the maximum speed. The bus started swerving through the crazy traffic and I wanted to hoot aloud. It was super fun, like some mad ride in the fun fair. But I controlled myself, already half of Calcutta must be thinking of me as a mad girl. And there was no need to add to that numbers. This bus zoomed it's way through markets then residential areas, and markets again. Soon the busy modern metropolis surroundings started to change into actually a small town dusty streets. All in a sepia tone. We moved through winding roads with derelict houses embanking them all encompassing a sleepy neighbourhood. The bus stopped near a bridge, the last stop. I was pointed towards a lane taking me towards the Dakhshineswar temple. I reached the premises after a short walk flanked by the usual stalls selling everything from miniatures of the residing deity to garish showpieces to imitation jewellery to refreshments. The place was buzzing with people even on a weekday afternoon. I roamed around to get an idea of the place. The premise is towered by the Kali maa temple, an aggressive incarnation of Parvati, the consort of Shiva. This is where the well known mystic Ramkrishna Paramhansa. He had had his divine vision here and since then the place is flocked by pilgrims and people in spiritual quest. Besides he was also the guru of Swami Vivekananda, the nineteenth century reformist and monk. I was here too because my mother is an admirer of these teacher-student pair and their philosophy. This is actually a reason why I have such a long list of places to visit, because I travel not only for myself but for my mom, for my friends, for the literary characters and everyone else! At the entrance of the temple I came to knew that it opens only at half past three. So I would have to wait here for another half an hour to be able to go inside the sanctum sanctorum. So I retraced my steps to the bathing ghats along the river. The place was full of activity. People were taking dips, some giving offerings, and some kids just playing around with their parents keeping an eye on them. After sometime I made way to a museum in the premises. Ramkrishna Paramhansa's everyday artefacts are preserved here. By now it was time for the temple doors to open and I took my place in the queue.

After the darshan I realised that it was already quarter to four, and how in the world I'm going to reach the Kalighat at four! I called up Sudha and brought her upto date with the situation. She suggested I should directly start for Dakhshinapan as I would just have time to reach there by six. So I came back to the place where I had alighted while coming and quickly took a bus back for Calcutta. Again I got a seat parallel to the driver and why would I complain, I had the best seat in the house. And I was ready to enjoy a very very long drive through Calcutta as my map informed. I was currently at the northernmost point of Calcutta and had to go very very south. The road we were travelling was not the one taken in the noon. I had read in the LP that there is a queer practise here in Calcutta where roads turn into one ways for a particular time of the day. And then the traffic starts running the other day. What fun! I didn't witness this myself but the bus ride was enough. Though this time it was moving at a very decent, but because of the crawling traffic around. The thing I noticed on this slow ride- how poverty was extremely visible here. The scenes play out here everywhere in front of everyone's face. This is not to dismiss poverty from other cities in India but something is different here. Maybe the simplicity of even the people above poverty line ; all adds to the effect. I wondered how much of the communist principles have seeped into the psyche of the public in the thirty odd years of their rule. West Bengal along with Kerala are the states where communist ideology seeds were sown and even took a life of it's own.
This plant then took the forms of elected governments and then went on to rule for substantial periods for their ideologies to seep in. Was all this simplicity and an aversion to capitalist display of wealth coming from that legacy? There were old, derelict structures adding to the effect like some old leftover props on a stage where the actors were definitely on a different tune than the scenes played out anywhere else in India. I really could only speculate on the reasons behind this in the absence of intimate knowledge of the region.
Oye! It was past five and I was living on breakfast till now! That is why these philosophical musings. In all this running about I had skipped lunch and it wasn't going too well with me. I was passing the Sealdeh station now where Sudha and I had boarded the train on the first day of our trip. It now seemed all ages back. I called up Nivedita and updated her with my current location and she was of the opinion that I wouldn't reach Dakhshinapan till atleast quarter past six. And truly the bus was literally crawling now. We were passing the central Calcutta and it was showing. In a while I got down at some market place near the Kalighat. This supposed to be the textile shopping haven. The place had already started to buzz with all the shopping for Durga Puja, Bengal's biggest festival still a month away. Here I consulted my map and my next destination was somewhere outside the map!
This happens so many times with me. Roaming about in a city whether it's London, or Amsterdam I remember going out of the map. Evi, a friend of mine had gone crazy in Amsterdam when she realised we had walked and walked our way out of the maps. She had absolutely refused to go ahead even one step. As I smiled back on that memory I realised the best bet would be to take an autorikshaw to the place. So I stopped at a bus stop to wait but to no avail. There were many people standing there and all with a calmness with the knowledge of where they have to go and how they are going to get there. I was the only one on the verge of panic of the unknown. I so envied them. After a while a lady next to me told me taking a bus would be easier and I followed her advice. Now she told me to get down just past the flyover, she didn't mention there would be more than one! I got down at the wrong one! God would the quota of walking on this day never end? I know I had greedily lapped up everything to see but now I was so very tired after almost twelve hours of being on the move. And I wondered why does this never happen to anyone? People always get down at the right places and are never stranded in the middle of the way. I just gathered all my remaining stamina together and started walking in the direction of my destination.
After a walk of about ten minutes I came to this place, Dakhshinapan. It was now half past six and I called up Nivedita. She was already there and we met in the central open space. She was there with her office colleague, a lady who immediately made a positive impression on me. She was so quintessentially Bengali, dignified and sweet too. Nivedita was addressing her as 'didi' so I too did the same. We started to move towards the shops. The place is full of different State government's textile enterprises. I had to pick up a gift for my mum and as we entered the shops I had already started feeling good. As it is shopping is pleasure but picking up something for others is absolutely delightful.
After we finished our shopping there was a suggestion of tea and we moved towards an auditorium next door where they were serving tea outside. I wandered around to see the posters of some play based on the Nobel laureate Rabindranath's play. I think they were celebrating his 150th birth anniversary at that time. We had some nice refreshing tea and then moved to a temporary handicrafts exhibition where we shared a chaat, a salt and sweet savoury. Ohh this tasted better than it was and  it was heaven, all because of my hunger. By this time bhaiyya and Aditya were on their way to pick us up on our way for dinner.
We persuaded didi to come with us and it was fun all the way. Again I enjoyed my conversation with Aditya, so clear in his thoughts as always. We all chose our dinner from the menu and relaxed for nice, relaxed conversation bouncing from Bhutan to the local flavours and just about everything. I wanted to taste one of the many famous sweets of Bengal and we skipped dessert and moved out to a famous sweet shop. I had 'mishti doi' , a kind of sweet yoghurt served here in clay bowls. Wow, it was amazing but by now I had started feeling drowsy. I tried to persuade the Roy Chowdharys to not to come all the way to Howrah to drop me as they live down south and it would be really out of the way for them. They are too kind for that and came all the way. I actually appreciate it more than any usual situation as I was so extremely tired then. I bade my goodbye and said thanks for a enjoyable evening.

Now as I came up to my room I had energy to just about reach the bed and drop off to sleep. No thoughts, no reflections, just heavenly deep sleep.

Part 10 August 15,16th 2011

Guwahati-Calcutta.

We woke up to some hustle bustle at the gymkhana behind our rest house. They had had an early morning flag hoisting ceremony and the place was full of members taking advantage of the holiday to use all the facilities. We had our train at noon so we freshened up and had our staple butter toast with black tea. Sudha wanted some emergency medicines and we decided to go around the corner to get some fresh air too. The receptionist did greet us with a raised eyebrow when we ventured out. We realised later that the time till noon is especially sensitive as it is then the traditional period of flag hoisting. The roads were completely deserted excluding the gun toting army personnel at every corner. Today I feel quite strange looking back as it didnt affect us then, two girls roaming as if they had no care in the world. Finishing our chores we returned back to pack our things and rest before the start of the journey. Sudha came with the idea of having a light meal as we might not get anything ahead in the journey and it was a way to kill time. We had some rice curry and decided to move out and wait the remaining time at the railway station.
Carrying our luggage we moved towards the station next door and came across two army personnel checking some passenger's luggage a few yards outside the station. We passed them and when not stopped decided it must be random checking. Ahead there were metal detectors to check the baggage and beyond that each and every piece of luggage entering the railway station premises was being checked! Hmmm.. This was the reason for random checks outside! As we were getting the luggage checked the security personnel started enquiring about our train and immediately informed us that 'ALL TRAINS ARE CANCELLED!!!' Now this was something absolutely shocking. Since yesterday we were killing time to get out of here because of this shutdown and now this. Still we decided not to lose hope and get the information right from the horse's mouth. At the enquiry counter we first came across a white board hastily written over with pink felt. The news was anything but pink. One after the other all trains were cancelled and amongst this the only silver lining was that our train, the Saraighat Express along with the Rajdhani were actually postponed and were to leave the next day at six in the morning. Really!!
A person was there behind the desk and we asked about the information displayed. He first gave us a look-over and then made his disapproval clear to us.
" what are you two girls doing here?"-
"not even a dog is on the streets and you two girls are roaming around!!"
This kind man with a sharp tongue wanted to convey us the foolishness in being there at the railway station at 'that' time. He was more than surprised firstly that we had booked a train on the Independance day and then expected to board it too. No train had arrived or departed from the Guwahati station on Independance day in his living memory. Quite shocked ourselves we thanked this stranger who was so genuinely concerned for us and then after confirming about the departure of our train the next day at dawn we exited the eerily empty railway station.
Retracing our steps we were back at our hotel, to again book a room for the day. It seemed Guwhahti didnt want to let us go. Thankfully this time we got the same room and didnt have to go through the whole procedure of getting it cleaned again. At the same time a young  Bengali couple was checking in too and the wife was volubly complaining about the cancelled and delayed trains. She told us that they had been visiting Meghalaya just like us and had made a hasty dash to the station to catch the noon train. They looked quite tired, especially the husband who was carrying all the luggage as the wife had blisters in her feet after a day's trek or something. The privileges some people have!
We retired to our respective rooms, on the way carrying the day's newspaper with us. I read the local news with amusement as only a person ignorant to those issues can be. There was especially an interesting article written on the lack of development done during the years the country had been independent. I pointed out to Sudha how it was an opinionated article rather than a report based on facts. Sudha who has worked with reputed newspapers was duly impressed, atleast I think so. After a while she dozed off and I entertained myself with watching the movie 'Hangover'. In a while Sudha too got up due to my continuous guffaws. Still the evening was just starting and we were at our wits end about how to occupy ourselves. I was just as sad about tomorrow which would now be wasted and I would get just a day in Calcutta!
On the way to tea Sudha chatted with the receptionist and tried to get some suggestions about going out. He was quite against the idea of anyone going out even for a stroll on this day. Then we got an idea about the situation through him. The extremist point of view was to not recognise themselves as part of India as not a treacle of development had reached them in more than half a century of independence. And there was no point in celebrating the Independence day if the nation itself wasn't recognised. We sympathised with the people and their hardships but not their viewpoint or ideology. Sudha asked this guy after a while if by chance he knew any person with such an separatist viewpoint and his answer was "Maybe."
We had tea and as if in a trance Sudha got up and said "Lets go out." And I never say no. When we were around the corner from our hotel, we saw a bus going to Kamakhya, ready to board. And even before I could say or even think of anything my 'mature, steady, sensible' friend was moving towards it at a pace and inturn before the end of the minute we were onboard. Wow! As the bus moved ahead I encountered what a 'curfew' must be. There were gun toting security personnel everywhere but as we reached the road parallel to the Brahmaputra river the situation was a little better. Atleast a few civilians were visible.  In the circumstances the bus ride was quite exciting and there were butterflies in our stomach. We were sitting in our usual seat parallel to the driver and in a while his curiosity gave away and he enquired about us. When he came to knew that we were just killing time he suggested that we take the same bus back from Kamakhya. He would be making the return journey in half an hour and hence we would be back in the city before dark. Again I felt the kindness and concern of this fellow human being and it changed my mood from anxious excitement to pure joy. We reached Kamakhya and were surprised to see quite a few people there. We had earlier decided to walk down the hill and catch the bus wherever it crosses us but on the way up we noticed few young boys quite drunk and creating a racket. So we dropped the idea and just strolled down a few hundred meters. Here we actually came across a view point where we could see the whole Brahmaputra valley. The vista was so beautiful, green after the rains and with the blue serpentine moving amongst it. We could also make out the Guwahati cricket stadium. After enjoying the view we walked back to the bus stop and boarded it to wait for it to fill and start its journey back.
We werent expecting so many people but the bus was full of pilgrims from as far as Bihar. They were going to wait at the railway station till dawn, many of them probably just sitting in wait of the train. This intense, complete 'faith' never ceases to amaze me. Will I ever possess it?
It was twilight by the time we returned. An apt end for the trip, an end hopefully. Now without being too adventurous we made way towards the safety of our hotel. It was time to relax, forget about the inconvinience of that day, and adjust to a dinner without our favourite paneer. Another casualty of the Independence day. Just when we thought the day had ended more predictably than it had started we had a knock on the door. Sudha and I had already called it a day and were quite surprised by this unexpected disturbance. We had had a safe trip until now without any untoward disturbance towards our safety and now..."its me, its me!"
Ohh this was that Bengali wife we had met in the morning! She entered with the force we were expecting from our Saraighat Express in the morning. She introduced herself again and then started a conversation with us. Although she did majority of the talking and we had to bear with almost all her life's story we enjoyed this intervention. After gently coaxing her to end this interlude as we had a train to catch at five in the morning we finally called it a day.

August 16th 2011

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The day started with a little thought eating away, 'what if the train is cancelled today too?' Yet we pushed it at the back of our mind and started for the train station in time. The bengali couple was with us too, again the husband picking every piece of luggage and the wife making a big effort to walk with him. I counted the  no. of hands he had, just to be sure. Anyways it was no time to be wicked, our anxiety was making us speed up towards the station. Outside there was a long queue of army trucks and buses, all full and ready to move. Maybe to a new destination, to douse some new fire. The station was in complete contrast to yesterday, at this early hour the place was buzzing with activity. The Rajdhani to Delhi and our Saraighat Express to Calcutta were both waiting on the platforms. Only these two and hence the rush. We entered our boogie to find it about half full. And that was the state even as we left Guwahati. Maybe the other passengers had made other arrangements yesterday itself. There was a north eastern girl with us and she too in a while moved to some other compartment to be with her friends. So it was just Sudha and me and the lush green rice fields of Assam outside. It was a pleasure to go click, click, click. People wearing that Mandarin hat and bamboo poncho toiling in the fields. The conversation also moved to the activity. I find farming one of the hardest, noblest, necessary, compassionate, professions. What could be more beautiful than feeding humans, working along with nature and hands full of earth too.Also it is something where humans stay humble in front of the force of nature because of their constant dependence on it.  I would love to do it but I'm quite lazy and irresponsible for it . Unlike Sudha who is very serious and has concrete plans to pursue it at her place in Kerala. In a very short period we crossed into West Bengal. The scene was exactly same only with different hue of green to it's fields. That is when it realised on me that somehow every state in India has a different shade of green to it and that it is what make them unique and belonged at the same time.
As we were agreeing on this phenomenon we neared that dreadful 'Alipurduar' station. Reliving all those memories, spotting where we had stood and what thoughts had passed through our minds. The station didn't look so dreadful today during the day. Maybe the night when combined with the situation had played that trick on us. We bade it a happy goodbye as the train moved out of the station. Sudha was now reliving her earlier journey a decade before. She was getting excited pointing one landmark after other. Then I heard all about this fantastic sweet rice dumplings she had had on this very route on one of the stations ahead. Village women come with their steamer and make them there and then when the train arrives. So we started a vigil for them at every approaching station.
It was noon by now and the train used to slow for a while and then halt for a while. By now it was a mystery about the time when we would reach Calcutta. We heard all kind of theories with water logging on the tracks or heavy rains ahead. But time and again trains from the other directions too passed us and surely that was a positive sign. All this train traffic made me wonder; it was in complete contrast with the economic situation all around. When people don't have their basic necessities catered to, do they really need this? Then the Railway Ministry was with the political party from these parts. Maybe hence this extravagance in newly built stations, choc a bloc running trains. Keeping the matter aside I started pestering Sudha on information about Calcutta.
Sudha has spent a few years in Calcutta when she was working for the Telegraph and hence an apt person to guide me. We had chalked out a rough plan when we were supposed to have two days in Calcutta. But now the whole thing was dependant on this train reaching Howrah! Still I had one day in hand and Sudha started guiding me about the best route, mode of transport, etc. We were still keeping an eye on the coming stations for that 'puttu'-sweet rice dumplings. Finally in the evening, just before approaching the New Jalpaigiri station we heard those village ladies call out. Sudha excitedly bought those dumplings but immediately realised these were different. Definitely not like the one's in her memory.
Suppressing our disappointment we just hoped that this train would reach Calcutta at a decent time. We had looked for places to stay for me nearer in the city. This is the most uncomfortable part for me in a travel, staying alone in a hotel room. I feel extreme discomfort in the situation. The LP suggested some places, and also recommended the Yatri Niwas. It is like a guest house run by the Indian Railways and anything government atleast gives me some sanity at the place as against private hotels. So we decided to check it first thing next morning and then decide the plan ahead. On this note we called it a day and went off to sleep without any idea when the night would end.

Part 9 August 14th

Shillong-Guwahati

Repeating yesterday morning's itinerary, we had our breakfast at the same place but wisely minus the milky tea. As we were proceeding towards the bus station we were accosted by the 'shared jeep' touts and as we peeped inside the middle seat seemed empty. Promptly we jumped in. After a while the jeep was full and we started our downhill journey towards Guwahati. Shillong was looking more appeasing in the early morning mist and we reached the outskirts of Guwahati without incidence and in a peaceful slumber. We had had a break for tea in between and it had been refreshing. Here Sudha had noticed the excessive plastic waste around. Everywhere the eyesore was there majorly in the form of 'use and throw' plastic glasses. Usually I dont have these vehement feelings towards it but this time even I was upset, that would point towards the extent of Sudha's disgust. 
As we were entering the city limits of Guwahati, we saw vehicles crawling ahead. After a while we saw an army contingent ahead checking every vehicle entering the city limits. In turn our jeep too stopped and we were asked to get down minus our luggage. And here's my luck, because my bag was locked they wanted to check it! And respecting the uniform I opened the bag and these people rummaged inside it for a while. Satisfied, we were on our way again. This is a routine incident in these parts but for people coming from comparatively peaceful parts of India it is quite disturbing. Though it was the kind of situation one doesn't digest immediately and the only after effect was a subdued-ness settling down with me n Sudha. 
Taking in the sights of Guwahati with its malls and cinemas and shops we moved ahead. Having not decided on the place of stay we decided to get down at the last stop, Pallika Bazaar. In between Sudha noticed a posh hotel but by the time both of us debated on the matter our jeep had already moved ahead.
We reached the same spot from where we had embarked on our journey  day before yesterday. Without thinking too much, subconsciously we started moving through the busy market towards the government guest house we had occupied earlier. On the way Sudha noticed a hotel we had come across in the LP and she thought we should try it out. Leaving me with our luggage she went to check out the rooms. When she came back she was quite optimistic about the place but in this time that I was alone my mind was on all the dots we were presented since yesterday and without an conscious effort from me my mind was busy joining them. Last month while surfing channels I remembered hearing news about Delhi and Guwahati being on alert on the Independence day. But as one hardly registers dangers related to far off places I had only registered it in my subconscious mind. Now on this hazy canvas we had a clear picture painted by the man at the bus station warning us off, the grim faced security personnel checking every vehicle. As a result I very aggressively told Sudha that it would be best if we don't stay in the midst of a market place and the best bet would be the familiar tourist guest house. We moved on, crossed over to the other side of the railway station and reached the tourist rest house with such peace, only a little less than home coming. 
After freshening up, the creatures of habit had the customary Paneer Butter Masala. We had noticed the bathroom tiles being quite greasy and here returning from the restaurant Sudha complained about it at the front desk. We had had long discussions about the state of these government-run establishments- the dilapidation inspite of good locations and unobstructed capital flow. The negligence and apathy of the staff is appalling. We were informed that the house keeping staff would be sent up and accordingly in a while two supervisors and one cleaner was there. Now this whole event is worth description. The cleaner equipped with abundant cleaning powder and instruments was left to do his work,meanwhile the supervisers were busy chatting outside in the corridor. Here enters my enthusiastic friend- to my absolute utter surprise Sudha actually started supervising the cleaner. Even though there was a communication gap with the cleaner speaking only Assamese, Sudha still managed to get across with her limited knowledge of Bengali. She absolutely gave him a crash course on cleaning, herself an extremely neat person. And the guy too proved to be an ideal student  cleaning everything including the fittings to the bucket and tumbler with zeal. Sudha is one such person who always amazes me with so many of  her qualities, so common but still so uncommon. The way she is interested in every human around her, and not just interest she has as much empathy and curiosity about them. I could almost say that she had befriended this guy, just a teenager. In the course she had enquired about his home, family, education, career prospects, about everything and imparted some really well meaning advice. Though I'm not one of them one comes across these friends of universe and is touched by their well meaning and unbiased advice. I have. After this training session, both of us dozed off and rested till almost tea time. 
By tea time we ventured outside for a stroll. Though not very tired we werent in a mood for sightseeing. Also enquiries at the reception lead us to believe it to be quite unsafe to venture far off. We first made our way to the State's handicrafts shop. I wanted to buy the Mekhala-Chadar, the traditional attire of Assamese women, for my mom. This dress is similar to a saree. One or two pieces were interesing but Sudha suggested I check out the Calcutta Market too. We then moved towards the park and the lake visible from our balcony. Orienting ourselves we reached it. The place was holding some function, and we thought the occasion must be  the Independence day eve. I loved the artificial animal statues there and after trying the swings in the children's park we went for a stroll along the lake. Compared to other parks around the place was well maintained, especially clean. Still it wasnt exactly Wards Lake. We rested on a bench and started chitchatting about anything -from far off ideologies to observations about people sitting around us. The lake has boating facilities and many were making use of it. The whole place was lively in that sense still we had a sub conscious feeling of the trip ending and tomorrow noon couldn't come faster. In our minds we had already started moving towards Calcutta. The day ended uneventfully.

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.