Footloose and fancy-free: A day-trip bike ride to Pobitora WS

It was the time when the darkness of the night makes way for the morning light to set in when I rolled out my Hercules Roadeo and headed towards the Janata Bhawan cricket ground at Dispur. My friend Aklantika Saikia and I had planned to start our bicycle tour at sharp 6 am on 23-January (Saturday) from there and we were to join by fellow riders Nitin Das at Zoo Road Tiniali and Azam Siddiqui at Hatigarh respectively.

The ride route was Dispur, Ganeshguri, Zoo Road tiniali, Hatigarh, Geeta Mandir, Mathgaria, Narengi. The Chandrapur Road/ SH 3 starts from the Narengi traffic intersection and connects Bonda, Panikhaiti, Hatisila, Chandrapur, Gabardhan, Burha Mayang with Pobitora in Morigaon district. SH-3 forks out into two of which Road 3B leads to Pobitora WS- our destination.

It was still cold and somewhat misty while we crossed the morning vehicular traffic near the refinery but beyond Narengi-Bonda the air was fresher and the trees and the hills painted our route green. The signboard of Amchang WS zoomed past us as we pedaled our way.

At Panikhaiti we saw the rich silt river bank deposits with the mighty River Brahmaputra at a distance veiled by thick mist. The terrain though plain for most part along this route also has a few climbs uphill. Even though all four of us had mountain bikes, we pushed ourselves and our bikes and huffed and puffed as we clambered uphill. Every tough climb uphill has an easy and a smooth ride downhill, something we discovered as gravity did its work as we cascaded downhill at almost bullet train speed.

We took a short tea break ((including photo shot and one for loo too) at Ratan Hotel in Chandrapur which is 20 kms from Pobitora WS, as declared by the roadside signboard. The sight of a signboard which read as Maa Santoshi Cycle Repair shop in Chandrapur was a great relief for me even though none of the 4 cycles caused the slightest problem along this road. There are 2-3 cycle repair shops enroute to re-fuel cycles while cozy looking, warm and inviting roadside eateries and restos with thatched slanting roofs and equally fancy names like C-15 Restaurant. Dolphin/ Dalphin (sic) Restaurant, Di Chang Restaurant etc. dot the route for travelers and tourists and rides like us to re-fuel our belly. After a few kms ride we reached Gobardhan Bridge across river Kapili, a tributary of River Brahmaputra. The confluence of river Kapili and Brahmaputra on one side of the bridge while distant green hills on the other side, is a sight not only to be captured by selfie but also by the lens of our senses permanently. The draft of the cool air didn’t drain us of our energy and kept perspiration at bay. In fact, the sun was up only a few minutes before we reached our destination. Paddy fields, farmers with their bulls and traditional farming equipments, shops selling wicker baskets, a fish market after Panikhaiti railway station, 2-3 picnic parties, a marriage pandal with Nepali or Bengali music at full blast in Gobardhan, children playing seven stones and cricket, camera-shy sheep grazing on the grass silently, bovines standing on the middle of the road, rhesus macaques all cuddled up for warmth in pairs on naked tree tops, various migratory birds all with colourful plumage in the paddy field and beels was more than any nature lover can ask for. We also spotted a spring trickling water from beneath the bare rocky boulder of earth and a reserve forest with the sylvan cover of sal trees (mono-culture ‘afforestation’ under Social forestry). The signboard placed by Archeological Department of Assam declares the presence of rock inscription in Burha Mayang. At first the rock’s surface looked just like a huge normal bare rock but on closer look it revealed the not-so-distinct inscription. Banks with ATMs, though a rare sight, are located at Chandrapur (UCO Bank) and at Pobitora (SBI).
A herd of cattle, ranging from calves to old ones, blocked our way for a few minutes as we waited for the holy Gai Matas to cross, with me tring-tringing the cycle bell every now and then.

Before reaching Burha Mayong, my friend Imtiaz, whose role in this trip was to provide us with rescue and relief, in case of need, appeared in his black Scorpio Getaway with another friend Juri. The duos presence uplifted our spirits immediately. Later on reaching Pobitora when we halted at Prashanti Guest House I was not surprised to see thick ‘rescue’ ropes used for pulling motorized vehicles and a huge bottle of water kept at the rear carrier.
They reached us at the right place and at the right time as Imtiaz on a quick exploration of the place, probably while attending to nature’s call, saw or heard the tricking of water. He declared his discovery of the spring as we all dashed to the water-point for some photo shots. Next we crossed a reserve forest in Burha Mayong. This area also had bare boulders of rocks hidden by tree trunks and green canopy and occasionally exposed to view.
Finally the arched gate erected by the Forest Department, Govt. of Assam, welcomed us to Pobitora WS. We halted for a brief time near the tourist info centre for another round of selfie and called our rescue service who were stationed at Prashanti Tourist GH nearby. As we entered the compound of the GH our happiness on completing one leg of the journey knew no bounds. Black tea flavoured with ginger followed by rotis and scrambled eggs, omelette and alu bhaji was served to us on order while we also devoured and gulped down whatever we had got from home- chocolates, boiled eggs, cashew nuts, biscuits, kaju-butterscotch milkshake, Glucon-D, water to refill our lost energy.

We explored the vicinity of the sanctuary and crossed the Hadug Hanging Bridge halfway but didn’t explore the inside of the wildlife sanctuary as we wanted to reach home before dusk. Hence, this was a trip without sighting any one-horned rhinoceros which Assam is famous for.
Our emergency rescue and relief service was not required fortunately but were available on call as they dashed off towards Jonbeel Mela- the famous fair where barter system is still practiced till date and later went for a game of cricket in the Khanapara ground.

The journey back home was shorter as we didn’t stop frequently except once or twice for the tea-break and to munch on chocolates, biscuits and dry fruits on the roadside. However, I ensured that the basket of food which I carried in my carrier became lighter by chomping to the last bite of all that remained in the basket.

I wonder why mountain bike designers always keep the seat so small which doesn’t fit our bums as we realized this bitter truth in our trip. The yesteryear Hero cycle’s big seat is the standard size for us. In fact, in the single tea-break which we took in the same tea-stall while returning, one from the group suggested that s/he wanted to fix the chair s/he was sitting on the cycle itself for the comfort of our aching bums.

On the return back home, while Aklantika and I pedaled in proximity as Azam and Nitin pedaled much ahead of us, young boys zoomed past us on motorbikes singing and crooning the tunes of the popular Axomiya song “Cycle mari mari”, perhaps to lift up the diminishing spirits of the not-so-young-‘ladies’-rider.

Aklantika and I decided to take a de-tour, the shortest route from Narengi intersection- the VIP Road which directly connects Panjabari and south-eastern Guwahati. Azam waits for us at Narengi tiniali while Nitin, not aware of the change in our plan, moves further ahead and later calls from Hatigarh to bid good-bye to both of us telephonically. At Narengi tiniali I realized that something was wrong with my cycle gear as I couldn’t change it beyond the second gear. Our legs were numb by then and every square inch of our body ached. Aklantika and I resumed pedaling along VIP Road slowly as trucks, cars and motorcycles overtook us. We once again halted for garam-garam chai midway along this road. We crossed Hengrabari-Bagheswari Mandir in no time and then crossed the busy GS Road on foot before lights were lit at homes in the evening. At Super Market both of us exchange goodbyes with a promise to meet again in the near future for similar rides. As I open the gate of my home, my wrist-watch reads 5 past some minutes.

This trip flooded my memories of Deota (RIP) who had served as the D.C. of Morigaon district in the early 90s when I was a student of class VIII but I never visited Pobitora WS, when Morigaon town was still a sleepy town then, even though I got the chance to see the length and breadth of Assam with him. Perhaps I developed a taste for the outdoors from such trips and I owe much of my non-academic understanding and learning about places from a person who was a ‘living dictionary’ for me and my siblings.

This bike tour covered in a single day in less than 12 hours was a rejuvenating experience for the riders. We wish more pedal yatris will join us in our rides in the future so that it decongests our city roads from the already terribly clogged vehicular traffic, to keep Guwahatians directly healthy (and indirectly wealthy), to reduce the commonest problem in today’s world called pollution, to promote cycling as a popular mode of travel for at least short distances, to explore and enjoy nature at its best while still pedaling and the last but not the least to protect this earth which is every living souls ‘home.’

Riders: Aklantika Saikia, Azam Siddiqui, Nitin Das and Karobi Gogoi along with emergency rescue and relief support provided by Imtiaz Rehman Saikia and Juri Nath.

Intrepid Travellers: Travels through Leh-Ladakh

Route: Delhi (by bus) –Manali (By SUV)-Rohtang pass- Keylong-Jispa-Darcha-Baralacha-la-Sarchu (H.P.)-Moray plains (JnK)-Tanglang-la-Leh (hired ‘local’ SUV)-Hemis-Lamayuru-Alchi-Nubra-Pangong.

I was working with a publishing house in the national capital, digitally mapping cities, countries and regions around the world ranging from Argentina, Baja California, China to Scottish Highlands and Islands, Trinidad and Tobago, Vancouver, Zanzibar etc. On a hot late-June, summer day in Delhi I with three of my female colleagues decided to lace on our travelling shoes. After short-listing a few hill-stations of western Himalayas, we zeroed in on Leh-Ladakh for a week’s trip. A 49 plus ever youthful, energetic and enthusiastic Madhavi Singh (aka Mavi), a beautiful-humorous Sardarni- Jasbir Sandhu (aka Jaso) and the stylish and elegant Ragini Govind (aka Ragi) and I (aka Karo) geared up to tread on the land of high mountain passes-Ladakh (La-Dags). We met Roshni  Pradhan at CCD in Khan Market who helped us in preparing the itinerary, the list of things to carry and for the travel permit required for entry into Ladakh and for such other paraphernalia. Roshni advised us to take the road journey as people who fly directly to Leh may at times suffer from mild altitude sickness.

The mantra was to travel light so we divided the load amongst us- I carried the torch, candle/ match box, ear-buds, pen knife (the items I always carry when I am on the move), Jaso carried sunscreen lotion (much-needed in Ladakh due to high altitude) and other toiletries, Mavi- the first-aid kit including oxygen cans and her easily detachable clothes-line came in very handy while Ragi carried the high energy snacks and the dry fruits. Each of us ensured that we also carried thermals and sunglasses besides our personal wear and shoes, gamusa, tooth-brush, bathroom slipper etc.

We boarded the HPTDC super deluxe bus from CP in Delhi to Manali on 8^th July in the evening. The Manali-Leh Highway, the highest motorable road in the world, remains open to northern India for a brief period of the year when the glacial ice thaws, mainly from July onwards to September. All along the highway road safety signs like “Be gentle on my curves” to “Overspeed is a knife that cute (sic) a life”, (so wonderfully captured in the book on hilarious road signs Peep, Peep, Don’t Sleep by Ajay Jain) keeps a traveler hooked.

With the climb up the mountain, jolly Jaso puked all the way to Manali as soon as the movie ‘Hera-Pheri’ shown in the bus ended.  The bus stopped many a times for Jaso. Luckily Ragi carried sickness bags. I sat on an inverted steel bucket between the driver and Jaso (now seated on the conductor’s seat) as she went on throwing. We reached Manali in the morning the next day which was our first halt in the long leg of journey. Jaso also regained her health quickly. We saw the town and the Hidimba Temple in the evening and gulped down hot momos and thupas in the market. I purchased a green sleeping bag in the market at Manali as I couldn’t find one in the Delhi markets. Mavi purchased the big multi-coloured umbrella (which came in handy later while peeing on the road which is devoid of trees, shrubs and bushes).

We briefly halted at Rohtang-pass (Rohtang meaning piles of dead bodies) where we clicked pictures with the yaks Jonny any Monny. Foreigners cycling on mountain-bikes are a common sight in this part of the highway. The road ahead was blocked by a JCB earth mover to clear off debris so out I went with Jaso for some photo session in a bed of wildflowers which is my FB profile picture.

The fog slowly lifted to reveal the white-frothy streams and water-falls cascading from the high green carpet of mountains. Slowly the greenery gave way to exposed rocky outcrops. With further ascent, the sedimentary rock formation in the fold mountain viz. symmetrical, asymmetrical, isoclinal, overturned, recumbent fold etc. that I studied as a student of Geography in Cotton College, Guwahati, came alive instantly as my eyes scanned the Greater Himalayas. To me the mountains are not just a physical feature on the earth’s surface but the lofty highlands with its pristine snow-clad peaks makes me believe that there is a power mightier than us.

We lunched at Koksar in one of the dry stone hut dhabas. Tandi village is at the confluence of Chandra and Bhaga rivers forming the river Chandrabhaga which flows as the River Chenab downstream from here. As the vehicle zoomed past, I gazed at the confluence of the two rivers while my mind unzipped memories of Miss Ruma Baruah’s Geography class in high school- “The place where two rivers meet is known as confluence (prayag).” I feel blessed to be her student for it was Miss Ruma who brought the mountains, the rivers and its valleys come alive in the classroom of St Mary’s School, Guwahati. I owe much to her for developing an interest in Geography. We refueled our vehicle at a stone-hut petrol pump as the next refilling station was at a distance of 365 kms. away from here along this highway.

Our next halt was at Keylong, the district headquarters of Lahaul. There we explored the quiet-little town and had the pure pleasure of chomping fresh green peas directly from the fields. In the morning when the veil of mist cleared we captured the view of the distant Buddhist gompa in the mountain lap. As we continued with our onward journey we crossed Jispa, an idyllic, picture-postcard mountainous setting by a stream against the backdrop of seasonal wildflowers. Jispa’s surreal charm almost took my breath away. We stopped at Darcha for a quick bite of breakfast on the bank of a river. At Baralacha-la, vast stretches of stones are piled one on top of the other (like the game of seven stones) by weary travelers across both sides of the highway to pray for the onward journey.

Towards the early evening on the third day we stopped at Sarchu. During the day the place is mesmerizing with barren mountains beyond a few pitched tents where nature in its ‘nakedness’ (since it is devoid of any greenery) looks all the more appealing to the senses. There is no human habitation, no hamlet miles from here and even no electricity. Drinking water is also scant. We explored the barren landscape and reached a tributary which silently glided by carving steep walls. That Nature could be truly beautiful in all its forms was visible right in front of our eyes. Like a child I ran, ran to explore so that I don’t miss out on anything (like Heidi in the Swiss Alps). Like the air which is rarefied here, I also felt much lighter. But travellers beware- you must NOT over exert yourself in Sarchu as oxygen is quite less here. Due to this reason some people do develop breathing problem. Sarchu was Sar mein dard for me as this was the first time I felt dizzy and developed severe head ache and puked right after the early dinner of rajma-chawal. I felt so weak and sick that Mavi had to administer oxygen to me from the oxygen can. I immediately drifted off to sleep.

Next day I was back on my feet after inhaling the fresh morning air of the mountain. We offered our prayers to the small Shiva shrine erected next to the campsite and headed further north. We stopped at a tented dhaba at Pang for lunch. During the day time we crossed the Moray plain. The Moray plain is a vast stretch of high-altitude, barren, sandy plain with no permanent human settlement and the area is not blessed with precipitation. There is not even a single sign of human life to be seen for miles and miles around in this desert plain except a few solitary herdsmen with their flocks. One may easily get disoriented and lost in the sandy desert. There is no surface road in this stretch of land and only expert drivers know their way out. It is here that I badly wanted to pee but felt somewhat scared to even get off the vehicle alone even in broad daylight owing to the eeriness of the place. Not to be seen by any passing vehicles while I relieved myself, Mavi’s huge multi-coloured umbrella purchased in Manali came in real handy. Since the entire region is arid, we offered one or two of the herdsmen drinking water in this utterly barren, desolate place and my advice to you is- Please (with a capital ‘p’) offer them a few bottles of drinking water too if you pass across this land. You never know when their blessings rain on you.

At Tanglang-la (17582 feet), the highest point of this highway, I got down with the driver and once again I offered my prayers in the small shrine followed by a single click capturing me with the altitude sign by Ka, the driver. It was biting and freezing cold here and only my cheeks were visible as I discovered later.

I always prefer to sit in the left-hand side while travelling so that I could watch nature at her best. Not knowing when I dozed off but when I opened my eyes I saw one of the most spectacular view- nature as the best sculptor. Later when the River Indus came to sight we knew that our destination was not far away. Nestled between the Great Himalayan Ranges and the Karakoram Range, Ladakh is a land of contrast. That was my very first observation as a geographer-cum-Cartographer. With snow on one side and sands on the other, rains at one time and scorching heat the next, high-altitude arid condition at one place to very short-salubrious weather at another, barren lands here and patches of ‘irrigated’ greenery there, the weather is highly erratic in Ladakh. Winter temperature may plummet to blood freezing minus 40˚C.

The River Indus criss-crossing, the Chortens/ stupas, rock carvings and the colourful gate welcome you to Leh town. We had two rooms booked at Millennium Guest House in Leh, the capital of Ladakh. Leh was our base from where we covered the places of interest across Ladakh. The rooms were spacious and clean with hot water available, the neatly arranged flower-pots across the open passage outside leads you to a lively front garden with manicured lawn where tables and chairs are laid-out under huge umbrellas where guests can strum the guitar and croon to their favourite number under the star-lit sky. Staffs at the guest house are friendly and makes you feel at home.

Early the next morning while Jaso and Ragi preferred to catch up on lost sleep, Mavi and I walked the length and breadth of the part of the town near the guest house. We saw the standing crops in the agricultural fields and heard the chirping of the birds and the gurgling of a stream nearby. Such early morning walks in the mountain pumps in fresh air into your system. It was pure pleasure for the senses which is best captured permanently by the lens of my mind.

The first place of interest we visited was the Hemis Buddhist Monastery. We had synced the time when the Hemis festival just started. Perched atop a glen in the mountain and surrounded by mustard fields below, Hemis Festival is the most famous of all the monastery festivals over Ladakh. The masked dance is the major attraction of this festival which attracts both hordes of foreign and domestic tourists. The incantation of divine Buddhist slokas chimes out from the monastery and lingers away across the wide valley.

Nemu village on the way to Lamayuru and Alchi is another serene scenic setting. We next headed to Lamayuru Monastery which stands atop a high spur and had the unique experience of walking on the ‘moonscape’- an eroded landscape. The Lamayuru Monastery has the best collection of colourful thangkas. Located at a bend on the river Indus, the tranquility of the monastery complex at Alchi reverberates across the surrounding barren mountains. Its ancient painted murals and fine wood sculpture is sure enough to make you fall in love with history.

We were so enchanted by Ladakh that we extended our stay by a few more days. Our guide Sapan Pradhan, Roshni’s younger brother included Nubra Valley and Pangong Lake. From Leh we headed further north to Nubra Valley. It is hard to believe that this geographical space was once a part of the Tethys Sea in the geological past as evidenced by the fossil remains found buried in the sand-dunes. Hundur is the farthest point where one is permitted to go along the Nubra Valley, the Line of Control not very far away from here. We checked-in at the Snow Leopard Guest House at Hundur. The Guest House offers enchanting view beautified by its extensive front garden of flowers and a vegetable garden. In the morning when I Aliced myself in this wonderful land, I saw nearly straight-cut narrow ducts channeling melt-ice water from the nearby brook, passing through the garden of the guest house.

Hundur is renowned for the double-humped Bactrian camels. Not to miss the ride, Jaso took a short ride in one of them. The confluence of the Nubra and Shyok, a tributary of Indus, is a place worth-seeing. Towards sun-set we contoured the figure of a ‘sleeping princess’ in the distant Karakoram Range. The sky was crystal clear on a moon-lit night. That late evening we spent sky-gazing in the sand-dunes of Nubra Valley. Later while Mavi, Jaso, Ragi and Sapan chatted amongst themselves, I spent a few minutes in silence, alone. The next day we took a tour to the local Yak farm and fishery. We also made a darshan of the monastery at Diskit where the colossal Buddha statue towers across the silent valley. While on the way further north we saw soldiers, dressed all in white, moving in army trucks heading towards Siachen Glacier. The lilac lavender flowers grown in the wild on the way to Panamik and the medicinal hot springs are not to be missed in one of India’s northernmost zone accessible to travelers. On our return we stopped at Khardung-la (5578m): claimed to be the world’s highest motorable mountain pass. Later all four of us climbed atop a rocky hillock to tie the colourful Buddhist prayer flag. It is in Kharlung-la that I was able to get rid of my phobia of heights.

Our final stop was at Pangong Tso (Lake), a place much glamourised later by the Amir Khan starred Bollywood movie 3-Idiots. Only 1/4^th of Pangong Lake lies in India while the remaining lies in China. It felt like Heaven to bask on the shore of the zero-pollution, blue-green turquoise coloured lake. We were lucky enough to see the rainbow at Pangong Lake. While my 3 companions preferred to laze around the camp I went for a slow leisure walk on the shore of Lake Pangong. From a distance I saw a western tourist, sans any clothing, ready to take a dip and so I decided to make a u-turn. Very soon I reached my trio-companion. Suddenly 3 children appeared in front of us cycling. They were God-sent for me as I am very passionate of cycling. I greeted them ‘Julay’ in the typical Ladhaki style and requested if they would be kind enough to allow us to cycle for a few minutes. They happily agreed. It was by far the best cycle ride in my life till date. We gave the young ones chocolates which they too gaily accepted and rode off. At night the 4 of us churned out stories from our lives as the moon’s reflection on the still waters of Pangong had an embalming effect on each one of us. I wrapped myself in a layer of warm clothes before I buried myself inside the sleeping bag. The next morning I took a dip in the still, cool and clear waters of Pangong Lake before kissing the paradise good-bye.

Our tour guide Sapan took us to a Ladakhi village home where we interacted with the elders and the young members of a joint family. We were offered rich and creamy yak butter-milk which tasted almost like soup to me. Jaso and Ragi who didn’t quite relish the taste stealthily passed the bowls to Mavi and me. The fireplace in the spacious kitchen, adorned with its shinning utensils, low table and carpets, kept us all warm and comfy. We were also offered home-made surpi.

All my travelling companions were vegetarians so throughout the journey I also took veg food though my tongue did get to taste boiled eggs. We munched on dry fruits and took tea breaks throughout the cold, serpentine route. One evening during our stay at Nubra, Mavi even prepared hot soup with fresh vegetables and like gluttons we emptied the bowls in no seconds. Maggi in the mountain is a gastronomic delight for tired and hungry travellers. We slurped and gulped down piping hot bowls of soupy maggi (it was not banned then) at almost every stop. Maggi with freshly chopped vegetables cooked in the pure mountain water and garnished with finely chopped onion, green chilli and a dust of pepper powder adds to its aroma and taste. I wonder what travelling in the mountains would be now without it after the ban. Sigh!

Can any women’s trip be complete without shopping? Though we didn’t shopped till we dropped, as our travel cost shot up by a few grands owing to extending the duration of our stay and the return journey from Leh to New Delhi by air, nevertheless all four of us visited the Tibetan market and got mementos for our dear ones and colleagues. I purchased a brown shawl for Ma, a unique brass bottle-opener (a gift for my husband) and a bottle-green coloured Tibetan cross-button shirt for myself. Leh Market is a maze of shoppers selling fruits and vegetables, pendants, trinkets, amulets on the pavements to those housing expensive shops dealing in Thang-ka, Pachmina and Kashmiri shawls, carpets, samovar and Kashmiri handicrafts and artifacts, apricots and other dry fruits, traditional Buddhist Ladhaki tops, precious and semi-precious gems and ornaments, internet cafés, Tibetan restaurants. All 4 of us got the cotton tee of different colours and sizes with “YAK-YAK-Yak-YAK-YAK” embroidered on it which we decided to wear on the day of re-joining office after the trip. After purchases have been made we sizzled at Leh Café. Towards evening Sapan strummed the guitar while the 4 of us made an evening to remember for the rest of our lives at Millennium GH as we sang English, Hindi, Punjabi and Assamese songs. A few foreign guests in Millennium GH, not to be left behind, joined us too pouring a musical ambience in the evening.

Last but not the least, the presence of the Indian Army, the Border Security Force (BSF) and the Indo-Tibetan  Border Police (ITBP) which mans and protects our border deserves salute. The white snow is turned deep red when blood of our brave soldiers spill in cross-border shelling and aerial bombardment, their round-the-clock-surveillance along the border areas to keep terrorists at bay from infiltrating into our country so that the millions of Indians across the latitude and longitude where India extends could work, travel and sleep in peace. Braving the harsh terrain, the adverse climate, the inhospitable and remote location, living away from their families, our soldiers continue to lay down their lives for their soil. Drivers ferrying tourists and travelers to Ladakh happily load newspapers into their vehicle and deliver it to the Army camps. As Ka-our driver, did in one of the camps, I saw young and robust jawans playing volleyball in the Army camp. Furthermore, the Border Roads Organisation (BRO) which maintains the treacherous mountain highway also deserves accolade. The glacial streams wash away the asphalt road and eat away the road surface leaving potholes of varying depths. At times rock debris blocks the highway bringing the flow of vehicles to a grinding halt. The highway is in most places capped by overhanging rocky mass with steep descent over the cliff plummeting to thousands of feet below.  The width of the highway often narrows down at certain points where you only close your eyes to pray as the vehicle from the opposite direction inches forward. Unskilled labourers, both men and women, working on the highway could be seen toiling hard. JCBs in this part of the highway are a sure sight.

The muezzin calling out the faithful to the evening prayer from the Jama Masjid in the bazaar at Leh to the white-washed Buddhist chortens/ stupas and gompas, Ladhaki men and women dressed in their traditional wear hand-wheeling prayer wheels, the bright and colourful Buddhist prayer flags, the sharp multi hair-pin bends in the mountain, greeting complete strangers ‘Julay’, the solitary goatherd/ shepherd with their flocks, hot Ladhaki butter-milk, the munching of surpi, the Magnetic Hill on the Leh-Srinagar Highway, the stops at the tent camp roadside eateries for a cup of garam black-chai, Maggie in the highway, the barren mountains with isolated patches of melting snow, the u-shaped valleys and its hanging glacier . . . all remains etched in my mind’s slate till date. The small airport at Leh was teeming with troops of the Indian Army and tourists. As we boarded in and the aircraft left the airport tarmac, the bird’s eye-view of Ladakh appeared to be as equally spectacular as the journey covered by road. Like a circumambulation, we crossed the Zanskar Range and the mighty Himalayas.

As we descended by flight, I realized why our not-so friendly neighbours vie for Akshai Chin and why J’nK is the bone of contention between India and Pak. Ladakh is a golden key that clicks open many locks in the treasury of nature. It is Nature’s cradled treasure-trove and a tourist’s gold-mine of delight, hence JnK is popularly called ‘Paradise on Earth’.

The trip to Ladakh was more than a journey for me. It was a learning experience for me to discover a land which knitted different civilizations in the silken past. Just like the caravan routes through Ladakh which once connected present-day Turkey to Tibet, this journey knitted a strong bond of sisterhood, of love and bonhomie amongst the 4 of us, to abdicate my unknown hidden fears and to re-discover myself in a sacred parikrama in the journey of my life. The Buddhist sloka “Om Mani Padme Hum” (Hail to the Jewel in the Lotus) which I heard more than seven years ago in Keylong has woven self-confidence and self-belief on the humming loom of time, to move ahead in life despite challenges and adversities. Hence, after I reached Delhi I decided not to digitize a map of Ladakh but to key it in the computer instead as it was a soul-stirring journey to Leh-Ladakh. Ju-Leh! Julay!

P.S.- When I opened my air  bag after reaching home in Delhi to be greeted by my husband and Lulu- our dear pet cat, a butterfly emerged from my bag and flew away.

The Aura of Auroville

Aura of Auroville

“There should be somewhere on earth a place which no nation could claim as its own, where all human beings of goodwill who have a sincere aspiration could live freely as citizens  of the world and obey one single authority, that of supreme truth; a place of peace, concord and harmony where all the fighting instincts of man would be used exclusively to conquer the causes of his sufferings and miseries, to surmount his weaknesses and ignorance, to triumph over his limitations and incapacities; a place where the needs of the spirit and the concern for progress would take precedence over the satisfaction of desires and passions, the search for pleasure and material enjoyment”- An extract from A Dream by The  Mother, August 1954

It’s been almost a month since I landed in Chennai in search of greener pastures and except for appearing in job interviews and watching the Bollywood movies on ace boxer Mary Kom and another one on child trafficking Maardani screened in Ampa SkyWalk and Escape respectively, I have not much ventured out in the oppressive heat down south. Well, Chennai has only three weather- hot, hotter and hottest and I don’t know into which of these degree of hotness the month of October falls as it is still scorching hot. I am yet to get drenched in the north-east monsoon rains here (the Tamil Nadu coast experiences it when it is winter season in the rest of India).

So I escaped out of Chennai for the weekend, a day after World Egg Day on 10-Oct after ensuring that I devour at least an egg before I hit the road as I was already stuffed ‘mentally’ with a lot of Amma(s) and Anna(s) viz. Anna University, Anna Memorial, Anna Square, Anna Nagar, Anna Salai (Road) etc. etc. and almost all the national and regional news channels for the whole week fed viewers with news about Amma aka Jayalalitha, the former chief minister of Tamil Nadu who has been jailed in the Indian state of Karnataka in the disproportionate assets case along with her aides Sashikala, her foster son et. al.

Pondicherry/ Puducherry 11-Oct-14 (Saturday)

Pondicherry now known as Puducherry is a Union Territory of India and comprises Mahe in Kerala, Yanam in Andhra Pradesh, Karaikal and Pondicherry, the last two geographically located within the Indian state of Tamil Nadu. It was a French colony in the historical past and the city still has retained its French flavour in many ways. Pondicherry stands out from the rest of the Indian cities in its architecture and style. Most of the duplex houses along the East Coast Road, commonly known as ECR in short, are a riot of colours brushed with pink, yellow, blue and purple. The wooden balustrade in the porch, the cafés, bakeries and kiosks  adds to its uniqueness. Shops sell all sorts of colourful fancy floral dresses which are a perfect wear in the sea beaches.

ECR is a single-lane, scenic highway along the eastern coastal belt skirting narrow sea inlets, rivers that fork out into the sea, coconut and date-palms; dotted with tiny temples dedicated to Tamil Gods/ Goddess commonly Murugan and churches and cathedrals; connecting Tamil Nadu’s capital city Chennai with the Union Territory of Puducherry.

Since it was the weekend, cyclists- both men and women in helmets, Indian and foreigners, were seen paddling  as far as Mahabalipuram (now Mamallapuram). It was cloudy weather when we set out in the morning and the weather God was kind to us (the cyclists and the travellers) throughout the day. Work on road widening by a meter or so till Mamallapuram was in progress. Except for the cyclists, there were very few motorised vehicles on the road. I found it difficult to read the signboards since most of it appeared in Tamil with scant English places names on it. The green paddy fields and water-bodies attracted the flocks of bogolis (cattle-egret) numbering more than hundreds. A few salt plant and several hatcheries (after World Egg Day on 10-Oct) and fisheries could be seen from the highway. Every now and then the driver overtook the green-coloured State Transport Bus. Most of his talk, in fragmented English, centred around Amma aka Jayalalitha and he reasoned out why she should be released from the jail. Amma has entered the pantheon of Tamil Goddesses as people worship her, many even self-immolated and committed suicides after the court verdict sentencing her to jail. One newspaper caption which particularly caught my attention was “Take Cavery water, give us Amma” since there is a river-water dispute between the states of Tamil Nadu and Karnataka.

Our departure was at 6:30 am and we hit the Toll Gate in P’cherry at 9:25 am with a halt for breakfast at Motel Mamalla (with a roof-top resto) in Mamallapuram which serves good south Indian masala dosai, idli, vada, appam, pongal,  . . . (the Center Fruit T.V. ad did come in my mind) and coffee for breakfast. Fancy and catchy names of resorts like Hidden Bay, Tropical Tides, (O)scar Resort- with my poor eye-sight missing the ‘O’ (written in black) of ‘Oscar’ (written in light orange colour).

Locals in white cotton dhoti and foreigners in shorts on bikes is a common sight. Sharanga Guesthouse, a cosy, homely, quiet ambience under the shade of a banyan tree amongst other green canopy, with each home carved out in exquisite traditional décor; a small, shallow-water pool roofed by 4 wooden pillars with a presiding water deity in the centre in one end of the pool; three broad tables spaced out in the open opposite the small pool with cottages in one side, a clean and spacious kitchen attached with 24 hours accessible electric tea and coffee maker, toaster etc., a roofed but open dining hall with a table for 8, a common recreational room with a T.V. set, a gym, a Tai-Chi hall, an image of a Hindu deity- a place of sanctum sanctorum, cobbled pathway with greenery from ground to a sea of green screen though the thick foliage and big, beautifully coloured pitchers for water laid all across the guest house complex of Sharanga, a reception with stained glass windows and ventilators and beautifully carved out woodwork with a book corner towered by a large globe and a wall map of Auroville and framed photographs of sepia hue in black and white greets the visitors. There is also a bicycle parking hut with slanted roofs.

Sharnga Guest House serves breakfast at 8 am and dinner at 7:30 pm and charges Rs 2800/ per day. The food served for both b/fast and dinner appealed to our taste buds, neither very hot nor pungent and spicy compared to food served outside and is a mixture of south Indian and continental. The guests of Sharnga from across the globe also have the option of eating their meals (breakfast and supper) together while getting to know each other. Both veg and non-veg are served to the guests.

The rooms have bed for two, a wooden cabinet, table-chair, attached bath with hot water and 24 hours electricity. Internet service is also provided. The receptionist Janani and her husband Sundaresan is sure to provide you with all the details which a guest needs in order to explore Auroville and its surroundings. A map of the locality definitely comes in handy. Bikes are also easily available on rent from Sharnga GH. Bourgounvillea floweres with white, orange, pink, purple and yellow blossoms add a riot of colours while the chirping of the local birds is perfect music for the senses. Try Dinesh Restaurant for local cuisines.  Auroville beach is accessible for guests of Auroville. The Visitors Centre, International House, Youth Centre, Town, Foundation Tibetan Pavilion, Sri Aurobindo’s Statue, Fleurs d’ Auroville, The Kindergarten, Buddha Garden, Botanical Garden, Integrated Animal Care, Pony Farm, Certitude, Solar Kitchen, the Windmill, Water Harvest, Menhir and all other places of Interest is centred around the Matrimandir- a golden globular shaped structure resting on 12 petals in the middle of an extensive green manicured lawn with an adjacent amphitheatre. Visitors are permitted entry inside the Matrimandir (and even in its periphery) only with a visitors pass issued in the Visitors Centre. Lose yourself under the shade of The Banyan Tree, where The Mother meditated, and enjoy the tranquil atmosphere. One is sure to feel rejuvenated and recharged.

Auroville has sprouted from a once barren plateau of red earth with nationals from 35 countries from different hemispheres and time-zones honeycombing this unique society. At the inauguration ceremony of Auroville on 28^th February, 1968, representatives from 124 countries and 23 Indian states scooped out a handful of earth from their homelands to place it in a lotus-shaped urn symbolising the unity of humans across diverse religion, caste, creed and colour in a sea of humanity. This is the aura of Auroville. What better place to pray and meditate than inside the Matrimandir complex in Auroville on my husband’s fifth death anniversary, for his soul to rest in eternal tranquillity, as I seek solace and embark in the journey of life . . . Bon voyage!

Day-trip to Orang National Park

The path least trod leads to the wild. Three childhood friends, each who diverted to pursue different academic and professional interests- a student of medicine, engineering and cartography, decides to take a ‘walk in the wild’ after more than one and a half decades of hiatus.

Thursday, 1^st May, 2014 (May Day) was a thirst-thrust day for the nature-loving trio who to escape from the mundane city life let their foot loose into the wild and the wilderness.

We zeroed in on Orang National Park, a haven for wildlife amidst the sub-tropical vegetation. Orang encompasses parts of Darrang and Sonitpur districts in Assam.  The national park, though under the tourist map is by far a less frequented touristy destination compared to the world famous Kaziranga and Manas National Parks; although it is closer to the nearest city- Guwahati, the transport and communication hub in north-east India.

We commenced our journey at quarter to 8 in the morning and from Jalukbari intersection we navigated to the right crossing the Saraighat Bridge on the majestic river Brahmaputra and hit N.H. 15 on the north bank crossing Baihata Chariali, Punia, Bhebarghat, Dhula, Kharupetia, Ghansimuti, Burigaon, Dalgaon, Kopati Tea Estate. We halted in a roadside tea-stall for a short break in Burigaon. 

Since almost all national parks in Assam are closed to tourists by 30^th April, we took prior permission from the Department of Forest, GoA to visit the park. Two hours of drive and we left the hustle-bustle of urban life and entered into the park which gave us an excellent 360° view of the sylvan sea of greenery.

We skirted the park in a jeep with our tour guide Abdul Salam. Pink wild flowers lay strewn on both sides of the jungle track as if to welcome the late visitors in spring. This was followed by strangler vineyard-type trees, a vast field of tall sub-tropical grass, wild edible saag (herbs) to name a few. The vegetation type changed in quick succession after a few kilometers within the park. We spotted a flock of spot-billed pelicans near a beel (natural water-body). A sleepy rhino basking under the sun woke up to greet us in the late morning, a mongoose crossed our path, deer stood still for a photo shot, a mama elephant shielded her twin calves, a gui-xap (monitor lizard) made a rare appearance in front of us while the sighting of a troop of monkeys just during lunch time at Prashanti Tourism Complex in Silbori completed the jungle milieu.

Mid-way in the park we halted in a forest rest-house. From atop the hillock we spotted a few rhinos from afar, wild orchids clinging to and crowning equally wild trees. Our guide took us down to a rhino carved-out cave, which looked like the handiwork of river erosion. We were informed that the pachyderm frequents the place due to the presence of salt content mixed in the soil (which is drained out from the kitchen guest house).

The lunch in the terrace of Prashanti Tourism Complex at Silbori with plain rice-dal mixed with local kukura (fowl), matikanduri saag (a type of locally grown herb) not only quenched our appetite but also satiated our senses. The landscape, climate, the rich and varied flora and fauna is what makes a visit to Orang NP a pleasant and a fulfilling experience.

The drive back home, as the three of us listened to popular English hits of the 70s and 80s, germinated our plan for the next travel destination  to chill long - - - Shillong.

Facts about Orang NP-

1.       The place where Orang NP now stands was once a thickly settled village which became a ‘ghost town’ due to *Kalaazar (Black Fever, the word Kalaazar is derived from Assamese language; Kala- Black, Azar-disease).

2.       The national park remains open to tourists from November to April.

3.       Accommodation- Prashanti Tourism Complex, Silbori (8 double bedded rooms and 2 cottages).

Dibru Saikhowa

It was nearly 6 years back when I was in Delhi that I saw a few pictures of Dibru Saikhowa in one of my friends’ orkut album (facebook was not commonly and frequently seen in the faces of computer screens then) . The person was my husband’s friend who was from upper Assam and he had been to the Dibru Saikhowa National Park during the peak monsoon season. Before this Dibru Saikhowa was just a dot for me in the map even though I was a cartographer, churning out maps for a travel guide where I was dedicated worker.

The trees half- clad in water (like a bucolic lady attired in the traditional mekhela-chaddor in ankle deep water) drained by the tributaries of the mighty and majestic ‘only’ male river of India- the Brahmaputra was enough to send an invitation to my eyes and feet. In between I had been to north, west and south India and visited places like Ladakh, McLeod Ganj, Dalhousie, the Valley of Flowers and Hem Kund Sahib  . . . blah, blah, blah. I am an Assamese from Assam and Dibru Saikhowa is in Tinsukia district in Assam, upper Assam to be precise but I was nearest to church but farthest from God. Amen.

It was not a distant dream. I have read in The Alchemist that if one really wants something, all the powers in this universe get together to help you achieve it. Perhaps all my intrepid former colleagues- Madhu Madhavi Singh, Jasbir Sandhu Athokpam, Ragini Govind aka Phoolmati, Ankur Guha, Pradeep Thapliyal, Deshpal Dabas, Meghna, Sapan Pradhan et. al. prayers were there with me. God finally heard their prayers when I resigned from my job, a job where I was charting out something else in the latitudes and longitudes of my mind.

Tinsukia, roughly translating it from Assamese into English would be ‘one with 3 corners’ though I didn’t see any such corners while traversing the length and breadth of the town, is the nearest town where one can get down from a bus or a train. Anyone hailing from any of the three corners of India- be it west, north or south India, has this notion that north-east, particularly Assam for that matter, as a matter-of-fact, is infested with militants, mosquitoes and malaria (like Delhi and its NCR is with three-sixty degree dangerx365 and dengue). Little do they know what lies beneath the curtain. You have to come, see and feel on your own. You don’t have to believe me or my words. Trust that.

Tinsukia is the commercial hub in upper Assam and hence vehicular traffic moves at a snail’s pace (or like the internet connection at mah home). Buses to and from Guwahati, the gateway to the north-east, ply daily both during the day and at night. Travellers and tourists please note that Dispur is the administrative capital and NOT Guwahati. Dispur neighbourhood lies to the south of the city of Guwahati. Travellers and tourists also note that in Assam we don’t have rhino rides unlike horse-rides and elephant-rides neither do grooms come to the bride’s place on rhino backs!

Assam may be a far-flung state connected to mainland India through the chicken’s neck but the state is visible in both the Airway and the Railway map of India. Had it not been for the naturally rich natural oil and the green three leaves and a bud ‘chai’ (tea) the state would have appeared in the national dailies only for the deluge and the ULFA/ SULFA, the latter being the surrendered UGs. In the present decade the ratio between the two fractions has become skewed since whatever ULFA members are there, they must have become permanent citizens of our neighbouring country Bangladesh in much the same way Bangladeshi nationals have adopted Indian soil in Assam. They don’t need passport and visa to cross India and can occupy any square inch in Assam. Well, I was concentrating on connectivity, Dibrugarh is the nearest airport from Tinsukia and there are two railway stations in Tinsukia, one is the old Tinsukia station and the other one in New Tinsukia Junction. Get down in the former if your destination is Dibru Saikhowa. Once you have arrived at the airport in Dibrugarh or the railway station in Tinsukia head straightaway to Guijan Ghat. The road is all straight except a few pot-holes (and if you are pot-bellied the ride to Guijan Ghat will be a fine balance. If nothing else at least your belly will shake like an earthquake tremor as mine did). You will cross a few hotels and resorts (provided you don’t have any relatives anywhere in the vicinity) but I won’t recommend you in staying there. If you are the adventurous type (like me) and is not scared of water (unlike me) and love to be in the lap of nature (100 % like my scanned copy) then dash towards Dibru Saikhowa Boat Safari  (Defining Comfort in Adventure Travel  as the leaflet reads) haboured at Guijan Ghat. The boat is in its infancy stage, only one and half months young so it is still clean (including the loo, ladies).

Just to update you about the packages- like Tinsukia with the three corners, the boat safari also provides 3, nothing more and nothing less than that.

“Sun Light Package- as the name suggests duration is between sunlight to sundown 9 am to 4 pm, fooding- breakfast, lunch evening tea & coffee, snacks (fish fry, pakora etc.). The major attractions are dolphin Point, fishing. Angling, beach sports, migratory birds watching (winters), tariff Rs. 1000/- per person, for children between 6-12 years it is Rs. 500/- Minimum 10 persons and 40 % discount for students.

Moonbeam Package- duration 6 pm to 7 am, fooding- welcome snacks, evening tea & coffee, snacks (local fish fry, pakora etc, dinner, farewell breakfast, attraction- night fishing, bonfire, night view of Dibru Saikhowa NP, tariff- Rs. 1000/- per person, children 6-12 years Rs. 500/- (minimum 10 persons) and 40% discount for students.

Star Package-Duration 2 days, fooding- breakfast, lunch, evening tea and coffee, snacks, dinner (speciality: traditional fish cuisine), attraction: Dolphin Point, bird watching, tracking of feral horses, beach sports, bonfire, angling, fishing, cruising through criss-cross tributaries in small boat, facility for roasting by guests, tariff: Rs. 2500/- per person, children between 6-12 years Rs. 1200/- (minimum 10 persons), 40 % discount for students.

Arranged on demand- lodging, boating, trekking, bird watching, environmental studies, birthday parties, conferences, picnic and various occasional parties.”