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.

Part 6 Aug 11^th  2011

 

Guwahati.


We were moving on to the next leg of the trip. As I look back at it now, I don’t know how to describe that feeling; the colours looked a little less bright. These things happens after one fights with our mums, dads, friends, or to think of it after a fight with anyone; the sunshine seems just a tad less bright, the colours around look a little less cheerful, even the air around weighs a little heavily on you. That was what happened hence forward, it wasn’t something I could point out but the tone of the trip was definitely different. There was maybe an invisible strain between me and Sudha, very minute but it was there. It wasn’t that the trip hence forward was any less fun, adventurous, unpredictable, Oh it was all that and more. The places we visited were so soothing they could have mended any tormented soul and ours was just a minor misunderstanding, more situational than personal.
On this part I was more confident too. That in control feeling came with the knowledge that now we were about to tour the more conventional tourist region with my LP (lonely planet) securely under my arm. The LP informed that Assam was divided in two parts, namely Upper Assam and Lower Assam. I knew this as I had a friend from Assam a few years back who had filled me in on this. The lower Assam which borders West Bengal, Meghalaya and Bangladesh houses the capital Dispur and its biggest city Guwahati. Upper Assam is home to the Rhinos i.e. the Kaziranga national park with Jorhat being the biggest city. The geographical locations are such that to enter any other NE state one has to pass through Assam, and hence Guwahati emerging as an important node in Indian railways. There isn’t much presence of the Railways beyond Guwahati except a line running to Dibrugarh and one has to resort to the Highways to reach the destinations within the seven sister states. The LP also gave an orientation of the city of Guwahati, the railway station being the invisible point dividing it into two parts. The exit through the back entrance takes you to the Guwahati city with its bazaars, malls, and residential areas, the Dispur road and probably the IIT too. The front entrance takes us on the side of the Brahmaputra, the administrative and judicial buildings and the Kamakhya temple. And this was the one we should take to go to the ATDC rest house.
We actually woke up in the morning hearing 'Kamakhya, Kamakhya' itself. As was expected the old couples were up and ready by four with their luggage arranged all around them; as if the train would fly by the station any moment, without giving them a chance to get down. We too got up and waited for the Guwahati station. The group was high on conversation now, but we were given a little space to sit and we were thankful. Sudha later told me she had noticed one of the lady's feet and they were extremely beautiful, clean and shapely. Umm, maybe her 'Pakeezah' moment? Anyways I was still annoyed with that lady for her mumblings in the night, beautiful feet or not. By now it was the Kamakhya station, where one has to alight to get to the Kamakhya temple. The chitchatting mellowed down as the couples got down here. I looked towards Sudha, she seemed her normal cheerful self. Maybe the night's sleep had done us both some good. Maybe our trip would progress further. Guwahati station was neat and clean compared to the ones we had come from.

 The outside facade is quite characteristic of Assam and the palm trees add to the feel. What was quite uncharacteristic was the presence of tens of Army commandoes, we saw the signage for  Army Hostel but still it wasn’t enough to justify this 'armed' presence. I would now put down our surprise as our ignorance. How little do we know about the parts of our own country, especially about the everyday detail? We moved ahead a couple of blocks towards the ATDC (Assam Tourism Development Corporation) Rest house. Sudha has an experience with a couple of State sponsored rest houses, where one can vouch for safety, which was what we needed at that moment. Peace of mind. There were two attendants at the reception counter giving us a frowning expression which probably could be translated into, "Go Away!". Undeterred we proceeded and asked for a double room, the shorter one of the two said we would have to pay the full charge for the day or we can wait till noon, the checkout time. We pleaded; we were experts in it by now, asking them what one does if one's train reaches at five in the morning. Now the other one suggested we could have the room for half the price ofcourse w/o the receipt. Were they playing the good cop- bad cop game? Again I was the one who got the hint and the deal was cracked. Agatha Christie had said 'murder is a habit', maybe every vice is a habit, and the second time is easy. Sudha actually came to knew that we had bribed those people only after I mentioned it to her later in the morning; she had put it down on their kindness. We went up to our rooms, and actually entered after a wait of quarter of an hour because the rooms weren’t ready! The attendant came up behind us, entered, changed the sheets, emptied the bin, filled up the jar of water, gave us a nod towards the end of corridor indicating the water filter, and made his exit in the same grand manner. Now inside this white washed room with the balcony looking over some posh club's swimming pool and tennis courts we couldn’t believe last night had actually happened. Even after a year now, it still seems a dream or rather a nightmare. Sudha went first to freshen up and I loitered in the balcony. I was thinking on the lines of location of this place and thought these government owned rest houses are placed in the middle of the cities still with abundant space to play around and sometimes also with views as I was noticing right now. It was around seven now and already starting to get hot and humid. Looking down, just below was the tennis court where a doubles match was on. All the players were on the other side of sixty, I think one would need that much time to come to this station of life where you could become a member of this Gymkhana unless ofcourse if you are born with a silver spoon. Beyond was the swimming pool which was yet unattended and quite understandingly. I thought by eleven everyone in Guwahati would be in need to jump into one. One attendant was sitting beside it on his hunches busy brushing his teeth, on the side he had left a hose pipe in the pool to fill. I was very curious to know what happens next, where does this guy spit? But his 'brushing the teeth' activity went on for quite a while and I lost my patience. Diagonally behind the tennis court and the swimming pool I could also make out a water body, maybe a lake? I was waiting eagerly for my breakfast and putting a stop to my eye-recce I went in. After freshening up, both of us zoomed down towards the restaurant in the lift. The restaurant looked quite posh for a government owned rest house. The colour and textures were pleasing and added a cheer to the morning. There was a television in a corner with Mr. Gogoi speaking earnestly about something and everyone in the restaurant listening to it with as much sincerity. I wondered what national news we had missed since leaving home. Neither do I interest myself with newspapers nor television when travelling, which are some of my addictions, but better indulged at home. We ordered bread-toast and butter with tea, it was a standard breakfast item in this region unless one wanted to have rice. The toast was nice but alas the tea was a disaster; it seemed the cook had poured in all the milk he had. As we were having breakfast I received a call from a very helpful friend I had acquainted during our Kailash Mansarovar trip, he wanted to share the news that he had been selected. When I told him about my location he insisted I should go to the Kamakhya temple and experience the energy felt in the sanctum sanctorum located in the underground cave. I was intrigued. I thanked him and paid attention to my toast. I couldn’t have that tea even if I had paid for it. Sudha tried to reason with me and maybe herself too that it would offend the cook and the waiter if we left it that way. We gulped it down in one go and got up at once.

We moved towards the reception after breakfast. After the formalities for booking were completed, we had the room officially now, we asked this person for directions towards any airlines office. After yesterday's experience we had made up our mind to fly back to Calcutta on our return journey. He suggested to- no actually coerced us to go to a tourist office next door for the bookings. I was under the impression that this was some part of the Assam Tourism Office and hence quite eager to go there. There was a lady sitting there inside who welcomed us with a very big smile, like the one the wolf gave little red riding hood? No, I'm being unnecessarily mean. But this one was a very apt person to sell a holiday and here she immediately took us under her wing. As soon as we had narrated the concise version of our trip and our plans ahead, she chalked out a detail itinerary with a car and a driver cum guide and all. In the end with a flourish she mentioned a figure so outrageous we just looked back at her. In the next second we were on our feet, mildly rejecting her proposal, and then as a last parting shot asking her directions to the Jet Airways office. We proceeded towards it keeping in mind all the directions given to us. We were told it was only five mins away on the road. We passed the entrance to the Gymkhana we had a view of through our balcony, and taking some more directions we marched ahead. We also passed a museum some time later and made a mental note to visit it later. It was about nine in the morning and more hot than noon in Pune. But the humidity was the real killer. After walking for about half an hour we were still nowhere near any airlines office. There was a small restaurant on the otherside of the road and we thought of having some tea just to cheer us up. I still get the shivers thinking about that breakfast tea. The restaurant looked somewhat shady, maybe because of its gaudy upholstery. We asked for some tea and the waiter immediately apologised for the absence of it, but we could have coffee. No tea in Assam? We declined the suggestion and got on our way again. We again asked around for the airlines office to be told this time to turn around and go backwards. After another ten minutes we found the Jet airways office. The young lady there asked us with a polite smile, "How can I help you?" Her tone surely suggested otherwise. We asked her for available flights to Calcutta on the 15th. She gave a strange look at the mention of 15th of August. I don’t think we noticed it at that time. There were two flights one in the morning and another in the evening which was the only one having free seats, but the prices were exorbitant and we dropped the idea there and then. Coming out both of us agreed there was no other way but to take the train. We had noticed the reservation centre just next to the railway station in the morning and decided to visit it in the afternoon. At that moment we crossed the road and jumped on a bus to Kamakhya.

Till that morning I had never heard about this famous Kamakhya temple. When the train had arrived at the Kamakhya station in the morning, Sudha had mentioned that we should go there today. She joked that some of her friends from the defence background when posted in Guwahati visited it atleast once otherwise they had to come on yet another posting here. We got settled in the bus as the driver mentioned it was more than forty minutes drive. The only seats available had been the ones opposite the driver. Though hot, they had the best view through the unobstructed front glass. Our very own 'Guwahati city tour' had started. The bus passed through many areas, some looked like second hand book bazaar, some like a whole sale market, all zooming bye as we reached one of the arterial roads. As the bus came along to join this main road, I wasn’t looking at it, no but at the spectacle beyond. In a moment the conductor screamed, "Brahmaputra stop." So this was THE Brahmaputra-The majestic, awe-inspiring, temperamental, one which was looking more like a blue sea rather than a river along the road. Now we were travelling parallel to her, no its 'him'! Brahmaputra is the only male river in India. The river belt along the Brahmaputra is planted with greens all along with gardens, parks, state waterways, private cruises all placed one after another. The road followed the river for a while and then turned inland and in a while we alighted in front of a huge entrance arch announcing 'Kamakhya temple'. The temple itself is up in the hills, about 5-6 kms from this point. As the sun was scorching down we got in a shared jeep to reach the temple instead of braving a trek. Huffing and puffing the jeep started its upward journey. The journey got interesting after a km with tree cover getting denser giving a beautiful bird's eye view of the surroundings. We reached an amphitheatre kind of thing which the driver told us is actually a parking lot. Getting down here, one has to further walk for about 300 meters to reach the temple premises. The walkway was lined with the usual shops selling offerings to the Goddess and the 'prasad' to be taken home. I have a vague feeling of red when I think about the walk to the temple. Maybe it is because of the numerous red Hibiscus flowers for sale. Climbing up to the temple premise a old stone structure came into view, dating probably many centuries before. The first thing I noticed was a baby goat running around the temple and in that moment it struck me it was there for 'sacrifice'. Born and brought up in India one has heard almost everything about superstition, black magic, animal sacrifices or even human sacrifices( in the distant past, ofcourse) but like any other profound aspect of life when you come face to face to a living creature who is going to be denied the chance of life, it is a shock. We moved ahead and I remembered the warning given in LP, especially to foreigners, to be prepared before the visit here. It was written that in the underground cave, the actual sanctum sanctorum, one feels a wet/damp feeling when we place our feet there which is nothing but blood spilled when offering the sacrificial being. There were many entrances to the temple and in the dearth of any proper signage we entered a huge room, on the end of this room was a lattice through which an idol of a goddess was visible. But the thing that caught our eye was the scene in the room. There were many girls sitting there in different groups each having their parents and a priest besides them. All these girls looked young, we guessed they hadn’t reached puberty yet. The girls were made up, with their feet painted and all and it seemed the priests were actually performing their puja. It was all probably a local custom. We moved out and asking around entered the correct entrance. Here one has to go around a long circular route to reach the insides of the temple. All this arrangement was probably for the days when there is extreme rush. Finally we reached the queue to enter and waited patiently. Already the atmosphere had started to work on me. There was a family consisting a couple, their two small girls, and their grandmother ahead of us. Sudha pointed out the ‘Mekhala Chaddar’ worn by the grandmother; the traditional Assamese wear, very similar to a sari. She had been telling me about this since we had reached Guwahati but I hadn’t understood what it was. I liked it so much that I bought one back for mums. After about a quarter of an hour we entered the actual hall of the temple. There were many idols here too and people were offering those red Hibiscus flowers. I was getting very curious because of all the bits and pieces I had heard. The queue moved at a snail's pace and finally we were at the mouth of the cave. I am going to attempt to describe the 'space' but I'm sure I wouldn’t be doing it justice. I have to first mention that this is the only temple where one doesn’t take 'darshan'(see or sight) through eyes (‘for the simple reason that there isn’t any idol here) but through touch! I know it is all very mystique and it gets more mysterious ahead. One descends about four to five uneven stone steps, all in the dark because there aren’t any electrical lights ahead. The actual sanctum sanctorum is a rectangular space, a cave actually not more than four meters in length and two metres wide.  Along the length, placed on the ground or probably generating from the ground was the form which was worshipped. This was covered all over with the red Hibiscus flowers; there was no other colour there except red. All this was visible in the dim lights of a few strategically placed oil lamps. And yes my feet were feeling that dampness, which was creeping up through my spine because of what I had read. Inspite of all this I have to admit the feeling of experiencing something very primitive and very deep. It was as if actually experiencing 'life' not within but all around. I cannot further explain it but I still remember the whole spectacle when I'm writing it down here. As I was kneeling down here I saw Sudha turn back from the bottom step. The priest told me to touch the stone and drink the water coming from an underground spring. I will explain the meaning of all this a little ahead, even I was full of all these questions then. Those few minutes spent there are so strongly etched in my mind, I couldn’t get enough of the atmosphere but it was time to move ahead as a crowd was gathering behind. Passing all the other idols I made my way towards the exit. As soon as I had rounded the last corner, I came upon a priest and when I looked down at his joint palms, I truly was stunned. He was carrying the severed head of a young goat leaving a trail of blood dripping behind him. He was moving towards the sanctum sanctorum with this offering. In a trance I moved out in the sunlight where Sudha was waiting, she too had seen it. We moved towards the exit in silence. I took a few photographs and both of us were moving towards normalcy. We didn’t discuss it till we reached the room later.
 

 

The information we collected about Kamakhya came through the various pamphlets from the Assam tourism office we visited later in the day. It is as follows- the myth: The Hindu philosophy states of the trinity who are responsible for the creation, preservation and destroying of the universe, namely Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva. Sati, the earlier reincarnation of Parvati, who is Shiva's consort jumped into her father's holy pyre as a reaction to his insult of Shiva, her husband. Shiva in extreme grief walked all over the earth carrying her dead body. Now without the presence of all the three supreme Gods the world couldn’t function, hence Vishnu sent his divine discus behind Shiva which in turn cut Sati's body into numerous parts. This was also to free her soul to be reborn as Paravti. These various bodyparts fell at various places on earth to form 'shaktipeeth' or energy points. Kamakhya is the place where Sati's female genitals fell. Most of the pieces of the puzzle fall into place and it is upto one's interpretation ahead. I want to mention that all the 'believers' and 'non believers' or the ones inbetween should have a healthy respect for each other’s opinion. Otherwise they wouldn’t be categorised under the above titles but as simply 'ignorant'. I know the whole thing above would seem quite flabbergasting to many but still it is there. And I have just described what I came across. Some food for thought- Kamakhya is the main centre for Tantric activities.

We reached the shared jeep parking place to hop on one. The sun was at its worst temper, scorching down on us. We were sweating profusely and drenched in no time. Is it possible to have 100% humidity? If it is it was then in Guwahati. There was no jeep in the vicinity and after waiting for about twenty minutes under a barely there tree we got into one. The other passengers were an Irani family chattering away, maybe to avoid thinking about the heat. They told us they wanted to go the Kaziranga national park. We informed them that all the wildlife parks in India close for monsoon, and repeated that well used idiom, "wrong time". Though I don’t think they understood what we were trying to say. As soon as the jeep reached the foot of the hill, we went off to the bus stop and luckily caught a bus back almost immediately. The wind blowing in from the windows was soothing to the skin and the soul. I guess this heat reaches the absolute core of a person. We passed again by the Brahmaputra, I noticed there were quite a few restaurants. I asked Sudha if she wanted to get down there for lunch, but she rightly pointed out that we could come there in the evenings. We could have had a sun stroke too now, it was that bad. The bus was taking a different route now, we went around many administrative and judicial buildings this time including the High court and a couple of colleges too. As we rounded the last corner to reach in the vicinity of the Railway Station and our hotel we came across the lake I had seen through the balcony. But right now it was the centre of a commotion and everyone in the bus too was trying to peep out to see what was going on. We reached the hotel without further event and immediately entered the restaurant. On a spur we ordered Paneer Butter Masala, and ineffect tasted the softest paneer ever. We thought of taking rest for a while but decided on booking the train tickets first at the Reservation centre next door. Throughout the day we had chalked out a rough plan for the next part of the tour. Tomorrow we would leave early for Shillong, Meghalaya, about three to four hours by road from Guwahati. The next day we would do Cherrapunji and come back to Guwahati the day after i.e. on fourteenth. So we could catch a train back to Calcutta on the Independence Day. I was thinking of staying put in Calcutta for two days and take the bi- weekly Duronto back to Pune on the eighteenth. Sudha also thought to go back by that time. The plan chalked out, we felt like Shahrukh in DDLJ, "Ab kuch gadbad nahi ho sakti." The reservation centre was very spacious with enough seating and numerous booking counters too, most of them empty. We booked our back ticket with the Saraighat Express, the one which had brought us to Guwahati for the 15th of August, departure at noon. I booked my Duronto ticket for 18th but Sudha on the last moment decided to book hers after reaching Calcutta. Sudha has a very good friend of hers staying in Calcutta so she wasn’t stressed about it. We returned to our room and relaxed with the overhead fan circulating in full speed.

We moved out at four, and made our way to the museum we had passed by in the morning. But as we were entering its gate we noticed the timings and realised it had already shut office for the day. At that moment an idea struck us- to take a cruise on the Brahmaputra, now that would be a beautiful memory to savour. We stopped an auto rickshaw and enquired if he would take us to the Brahmaputra, he acquiesced and we set off. The route we took passed nice quiet residential structures, then the administrative quarter we had passed by in the morning and a police ground where rehearsals for
the Independence Day were on in full swing. But now instead of taking a right turn, as we had oriented ourselves in the morning journey, the auto took a left turn. On our agitated queries he said, "Madam, Ashok Brahmaputra issi side mein hai." So this guy was taking us to that Hotel! We told him we didn’t want to go to any hotel but the actual Brahmaputra! Now we were going on the opposite side and couldn’t take a turn on this one-way. So we paid him and got down to trek towards the cruise office Sudha had seen in the morning. On the way, we noticed a garden and went around it too. There are actually quite a few of these linear green patches along the Brahmaputra walkway. Finally we reached the cruise office only to be told that the last cruise for the day had just left. We actually saw it and bid it good bye. What now? Being on the banks of the river and admiring her is quite different than actually floating on her, actually being on a different element. When we were walking aimlessly along the same pathway Sudha remembered eyeing the 'Assam inland waterways' board too. So we walked a little further and found that too. This was actual the local transport system between what is called 'upper Guwahati' on the otherside of the Brahmaputra. We purchased the five rupee ticket and jumped on to this ferry. At this time it was full of people returning home after work, some actually with their two wheelers and bicycles. We took up our seats on the open starboard side and sat put to enjoy the river. In this fading sunlight it was looking like spilt golden liquid spread out like a sea. The sky was painting itself in all the hues of gold, yellow and orange leaving behind the blues. The monsoon clouds weren’t to be left behind who embossed various patterns on this making their presence felt. There was a dim outline of a lattice bridge on the otherside, which was the roadway to this same place, upper Guwahati. I clicked the whole spectacle to my satisfaction.
 

 

 

 

                                                       

Finally the ferry started and we floated towards the center of Brahmaputra. There were weeds floating around but I remember looking upwards at the sky and being stuck by the vastness of the space. In cities one just experiences 'a mouthful of sky' but here I could watch it from horizon to horizon. I could feel the 'round' earth at this moment and wondered if I would be going around it? The shore on the otherside too came into picture. It was like the backwaters of Kerala with its sloping roofs covered with thatch or tiles, coconut groves peaking above them and mud pathways making up the approach road. The ferry docked and we jumped off to the shore. The return ferry would start in about fifteen minutes. We made our way through this place which had stopped the time and modernisation on the banks of the river itself. There weren’t any concrete structures about, nothing rising above two storeys to compete with the coconuts. There were verandas in front of the houses where old ladies were gossiping to their hearts content. There were small shop fronts displaying fresh fruits and vegetables, and occasionally those omnipresent 'Kurkure' packets. Through the gaps inbetween the houses one could get a glimpse of the Brahmaputra and have the assurance of where we were. We tried going towards it through one of the lanes but there wasn’t an opening further ahead. It was time to turn back and we made our way to the ferry. Again buying the ticket we hopped on, this time it was completely empty. We decided to try the low roof fitted over. We had seen people occupying it on our inwards journey and it had quite tempted us. We sat down and in a moment Sudha had tore her kurta on one of the edges of the asbestos sheets. We got up and choose our places carefully and then again sat down to enjoy this unobstructed 360degree view. The sun had set by now and the sky had changed into a pink dress by now. Even the moon had come out to greet us. It was the one before the full moon, and I remembered mums telling me that this one is brighter than the full moon. And it was; shinning away to glory. I attempted a few camera shots and they came out good. By now all the surrounding scenery had changed into silhouettes against the now magenta- purple sky. This breeze, these colours actually soothed all the memories of that stifling, hot, day. We eased back to this shore without a thought in the mind, just walking with one foot ahead of the other.

When out of the trance, that craving for tea had returned. We moved in the direction of our hotel (still on the river promenade) just after a few minutes there was a very attractive board for a cafe. We entered the premises to find us amidst an historical structure. On reading the legend alongside we came to knew that this place had been the venue for the celebrated 'Saraighat' battle. I admit my ignorance; I had heard the word 'Saraighat' the first time when we had boarded the train of the same name at Alipurduar. Bless the Indian Railways for keeping some part of the history still alive. So, curious we read on... The battle was fought in 1671 between the Mughals and the Ahom Empire. The ahoms had won this memorable war inspite of being the weaker side. The place still had the atmosphere within its ruins. We moved on and found the cafe tucked in one corner and it didn’t look inviting at all. Braving our instincts we ordered for some tea to be told there wasn’t any. This was the third time since morning that either the tea was bad or it was not available. Sudha commented, "Are we truly in Assam? The tea capital of India?" we ordered coffee to go with a dish of pakodas. The attendant suggested we go and sit beyond the restaurant hall. We too moved in that direction and actually came upon the Brahmaputra. This wide terrace opened directly on the Brahmaputra with the ruins of Saraighat in the background. It was THE location. We sat down to enjoy the view. There were a few people around, on close observation we realised they were mostly courting couples, what a fabulous place these Guwahatietes had. Next to us an old couple was sitting enjoying the view and they gave us a cordial smile. By this time our pakodas and coffee had arrived. The pakodas were actually dal wadas but very yummy, and the coffee was nice too. Sudha and I both sat in silence each accompanied by her own thoughts, maybe of the day gone by or maybe the time beyond. Tomorrow when we travelled to Shillong, it would be the last leg of our trip. This spontaneous, sometimes surprising sometimes shocking trip, sprinkled with fights and giggles, how would we remember it?