Hymns of the Mountains - Darjeeling Snapshot 1 - The Landscape

Snapshot 1 - The Landscape

"Darjeeling" - The land of thunderbolt as it literally translates to ("Dorje"- thunderbolt / the scepter of Indra and "Ling" - place / land) is a district in the hilly slopes in the north eastern province of the state of West Bengal. This land has long a history, it's roots running down to the age of the Mahabharata. Rulers of diverse clans and nationalities have claimed Darjeeling during eras that's now buried in the dust of  time. Couple of centuries back this land was overtaken by the "Gorkhas" and dwelled as an unpolished jewel in the empire of Nepal and Sikkim. East India company reclaimed it later. During the days of non-independent India, it was also gifted to the Britishers by the Raja of Sikkim to serve as a leisurely refuge for their tired soldiers and officials. The shades of it's past still reflects in the township and it's people. But today as one sits on a terrace gazing into the vast expense of the mountains beyond and hill slopes blanketed with the rich green Tea plantations, it's hard to imagine what this place has gone through. 

Often regarded as the "Queen of the Hills" among the north eastern province, it's naked beauty is one to felt and kissed. Curves of mountains playing away along the horizon of the snow clad peaks. Garmented viridescent escarpments makes for a fairy tale backdrop. The sinuous roads that led to the tiny habitations along the hills' appears like strands of hair exquisitely flowing down its' body. The air feels light as it permeates through the lungs. The ether has customary visits from the clouds now and then. The sun caress gently on the skin as it's dominance ceases at this altitude. One's psyche is enlightened whilst inundated by the ambience. 

One thing is for sure... in these mountains, you will untether your being and embrace an existence of higher order.  

#Darjeeling #Landscape

DISCLAIMER *I do not claim all the pictures in this article. It belongs to the respective owners. This pic is taken by "Surendra Pradhan - Winner of Photography competition 2017"

Hymns of the Mountains - Darjeeling (Part 3)

The cup of Darjeeling tea still lingers in my senses a nostalgia. It's like a dream I would love to wake up every morning to.  

A Hero's tale

Time in the mountains seem to pass by fast. It was already late afternoon, when we were done with our lunch. During the period when we were cherishing momos and vegetable stew, was accompanied by breath taking tales of the Kargil war. Mr. Siddhart's narration had teleported us to the snow clad dry mountains which played host to one of the gruesome battles in modern Indian history. Echos of ceaseless gunshots reverberated in our ears. He told us how Indian armed forces had to struggle to recapture those posts.

He explained while sipping on his hot chicken soup, " We were a part of the reinforcement troops. We were told that we would be relieved once the backup force arrived. But it did not happen as such..."

His eyes drifting to a distant vision of past time and again, staring blankly through the window into the vast expanse of tea gardens down the hill he continued, "It was almost midday when we reached our assigned point in the hills. Soon after bullets came showering at us from the posts above. We took cover behind rocks. Some of our soldiers were hit but none fatally injured. Time passed by and we couldn't advance even a step that day, the Pakistanis were well prepared. Every single move of ours was answered by volley of bullets. And I lost a few good friends that day." .

Tears pooled up amongst his eyelids. An uncomfortable pause followed...

Gathering his composure he resumed, "One of my dear friend from my regiment, sitting a few feet away tried to climb ahead. He had just stepped out of his cover when a bullet snapped straight through his head. He fell back and rolled down a few feet... dead. There was nothing I could have done. The next 24 hours I sat crouched holding tight onto my gun, staring at the corpse of my friend a few feet away."

Silence prevailed among the four of us for a brief moment.
A few minutes later, our conversation went on uninterrupted... He told us how they fought the war and captured the peak. He also narrated how he had to stay put behind rocks in bone chilling conditions with just one cigarette for three days. And how on recapturing the posts they had to cautiously feed the food they found in the camp to dogs first in order to ensure they were not poisoned. And a lot more stories during the day we spent with him.

Indian Soldiers after recapturing point 5140, Dras sector- 1999 ( Kargil war)

A day with Mr. Siddhart and our respect for the men that defend our motherland grew multi-fold. It's an honor to share the identity of being an Indian with these brave people we call soldiers, our brothers.

 Padmaja Naidu Zoological Park

Every new place I visit, I always have a carving for wildlife of that area or sometimes the zoo of the locality. While planning for this trip I had short listed the Padmaja Naidu Himalayan Zoological Park or commonly known as "Darjeeling Zoo" to the locals. A visit to Darjeeling without a visit to the zoo would have been incomplete. So, after lunch we made some time for the wonderful animals that inhabit here. As a naturalist, I had always worried if our next generation would ever get a chance to see the amazing animals that call this country home as their number is dwindling and some are on the verge of extinction.  Among them were two special creatures that I had always desired to see in the wild... I could find them here now. 

The park was established on 14th August, 1958 in an effort to conserve Himalayan fauna through breeding and conservation programmes. It housed numerous animals that are endemic to the Himalayan terrain. The Sun-bear, Himalayan tahr, Yak, Mountain cat, Peasants, Himalayan wolf, Himalayan Salamander, Tragopan etc to name a few. But the ones that I carved for were the most illusive ghost of the mountains, "Snow Leopard" and the legendary "Red Panda". 

The Red Panda

We took our tickets and went in. The ticket's cost was very minimal. We made our way in eagerly stopping by every enclosure to have a look. I also took the chance to click some picture. A little ahead, uphill towards the left was the Red Panda enclosure. I had to scan across the fencing to find one, because they are kind of lazy and dormant animals who spent a lot of time either munching on foliage or sleeping. I found one on a branch overhead, dozing in and out of it's deep slumber. It's pointed ears, the reddish brown and black furry coat gave it a very cuddly appearance. My heart sank at the thought that there are very few of these beautiful creature left in the wild and might disappear completely from the face of the earth, even before we know of it.

Ahead in the carnivore enclosure area I found the other one... Snow Leopard. The day was overcasted and animals seemed to be lazing around that day. At the corner of the caged paddock on a wooden platform sleeping calmly flickering it's tail was this magnificent creature. My eyes went a little moist as I knew I might not ever be able to see this in the wild. It's body was snow white with speckles of grey all over, a perfect camouflage for the snow covered mountain terrain it inhabits. As if it knew I was staring at him, it opened it's eyes slightly and stared straight back at me... " I know you are eyeing me, even I have an eye on you."  . This moment would have been different if it were in the wild. But that was a wild dream, chasing it would take a lot. But deep in my heart I knew I would without a second thought take that chase anyday...

Darjeeling Zoo spans across 70 acres of land on the hilly slope and houses a diversity of wild animals and we cherished the time spent with them. Once it also housed two Siberian Tigers gifted to Government of India by Soviet statesman Nikita Sergeyevich Khrushchev in 1960, but now they are no more.

Himalayan Mountaineering Institute

At the rear end of the Darjeeling zoo is the Himalayan Institute of Mountaineering. This was founded by Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru (the then Prime minister of independent India) in 1954 in order to promote and encourage mountaineering among the youth. The center of attraction is the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute Museum. It has three wings i.e. the Mountaineering History section, Mount Everest Expedition section and the Panorama of Himalayan Life section. The large hallway leads upstairs to ornately arranged rooms displaying different sculptures, equipments, landscape models and a wide variety of Himalayan and mountaineering artifacts.  Thrills and challenges that the early mount climbers faced reflects in the displays. Their achievements are proudly exhibited through photographs and newspaper headlines.

The hills remained unaware of  clouds floating across the lake of crystal blue sky. And this place among the hills was no exception. The sun playing hide and seek amongst the clouds casted interludes of lights and darkness over the peaks. The air felt cold on our skins when the light faded. Standing in the courtyard of the Mountaineering Institute when I glanced around , I could feel the world go black and white. Time took a pause. My thoughts lost in those stolen moments of the distant past. The moment felt surreal .... and it never ever crossed my path again.

Walking around we came across this engraving on a wall, which had depicted a mountaineer helping his fellow mate to climb a peak. It had a writing to it's left, "May you climb from peak to peak". A slogan that had encouraged many young hearts to conquer these summits and explore these mystic mountains.

After spending some time in it's courtyard, we decided to move on as it was getting dark.

Japanese Temple and Peace Pagoda 

Peace is what accompanies you all along while in these mountains. The people here seemed to have evolved in a manner that reflects the serenity of the place on their calm and jovial countenance. Among all the religions that have flourished in these lands, the one that has left an undying mark is Buddhism. Next that we decided to visit was the Japanese temple and Peace Pagoda located on the outskirts of the township of Darjeeling.

The Jalapahar hill area is just a few minutes drive from the town. It is here on the slopes amongst the tall alpine trees that the Temple and Pagoda are nestled. It's crested locale provides a panoramic view of Darjeeling and the Kanchenjunga mountains. Vehicles were not permitted in it's premises, thus we had leave behind our car down the slope and climb up the narrow road uphill that led to the temple. The two storied white tainted temple was built in 1972, by Fujii Guruji, the founder of Nipponzan Myohoji ( a Buddhist order for world peace). The temple was designed and built as per traditional Japanese style and is also known among the locals as Nipponzan Myohoji Buddhist temple.

Peace Pagoda

100 yards to the left of the temple towers the Peace pagoda 30 meters above the alpine tree line. It was opened in November, 1992 though it's foundation stone was laid back in 1972 by Nichidatsu Fujii. As per Lotus Sutra of Buddhist belief, Peace pagodas are embodiment of Lord Buddha that radiates peace and non-violence. True to their belief a mist of peace and serenity enveloped the eternal lands. Two flight of stairs lead to the Parikrama circle of the Pagoda, which are guarded by two majestic golden concrete lion statues. Ornately carved on the four faces of the pagoda are the four avatars of Buddha. The tranquil expression on golden effigies facing the four direction imparted a feeling of quietude into the hearts of every soul that laid eyes on them. We made the parikrama around the pinnacle of the dome, all the while studying the intricately sculpted artwork on sand stone depicting the events in Buddha's life like "the gift of mango groove by Amrapali to Vaishali" and "the great departure of Siddhart".   By the time our parikrama came to an end, a settle humm from the temple permeated the premises. Drawn by it we walked into the temple.

A monk playing the Ho ko

Following the reverberations, we walked up the stairs of the temple. The central hall on the second floor had two entrance. The rhythmic sounds resonating in the room came from the a large drum, which was played by a monk who complemented the beats with synchronized words that composed the prayers he was offering. We were transfixed for a moment. As if he noticed us standing at the doorway, without breaking his state of trances he gestured to take our place in the prayer hall. Red velvet carpet was spread across the entire wooden floor. On the mat across the prayer retable were spaciously placed small hand held drums along with drum sticks. A dozen of them were arranged neatly. The monk looked at us and smiled as if asking us to join him. We obliged. Taking our respective seats we followed his lead. None of us had ever played a drum but to our surprise within just a few minutes our hands had synchronized with the rhythm of the large prayer drum he was playing called "Ho-ko". Serenity tinkled from every little sound that suffused the space. We molded in. Time passed by and our unaware minds kept flowing with those words into the distant mountains. Charmed, captivated... enlightened.

Finally after a while the prayers came to a tapering halt as words lost voice and strength. But the thrum persisted. As we stood up to leave, the monk called us up to him handed us a few granules of sugar balls and whispered...
"May the peace be always with you. Let Buddha guide your path." 

Hymns of the Mountains - Darjeeling (Part 2)

The cold air was starting to sting when we left Gangtok. Mr. Amos insisted that we reach Darjeeling before it gets dark but for that we were already late. The road side little drum fireplaces were lighting up now, the streets getting scantier. This part of the world goes early into it's night slumber. It's just wanderer like us, travelers that traverse the distance between towns at night, at rare occasions local residents. Darjeeling lies at a distance of around 98 kms. from Gangtok in the state of West Bengal.

To Darjeeling

There is this thing with some people, a few puffs of nicotine enriched smoke and the warmth keeps them going. Amos was one among them. A few kilometers into our journey he stopped the car for refuel as well his lungs ached for smoke. Some sips of hot tea was that all we could comfort ourselves with. Getting done with our refreshments we drove on. I lay awake at the back seat for a little while, but the tiredness of the day was taking it's toll as my eyelids were falling shut. An envelop of mist was gripping the valley. The dark nightfall blanketing the hills. Slowly my vision got hazier and I fell asleep. With closed eyes, thoughts storm into the vacant space of the curious mind. Pictures of snowfall and unwinding roads on hilly terrains kept dancing in my thoughts. I was drifting away in my dreams when the sudden brake of the vehicle woke me. It was Ashis my friend peeping at me from the front seat. He asked me if we needed some thing to eat. We had stopped in a small village an hour away from the Rangpo bridge which we had crossed while entering into West Bengal border. On the other side of the road was a tiny house where a couple of women were busy stuffing momos in their make shift tea stall. We decide to have some. The village was merely a row of a dozen houses lined on either side of the narrow road. It was already 7:30 PM and we had no time for leisure. So, with no further due Mr. Amos was back on the wheels and we cuddled into our cozy seats. 

It was beyond supper time that we made into the township of Darjeeling. With no google map to guide us, I called up the reception of the hotel that we had booked earlier for our stay. The friendly voice of the receptionist on the phone had a tint of north-east ascent to it. He requested us to wait  near the Mall road. And within minutes an assistant was there to guide us to the hotel. The streets were deserted except for some husky dogs roaming around. Our trolley bags trailing by, we made our way to the hotel. The night was dark and cold... we just checked in and went to bed.

A Misty day

Mesmerizing view of the clouds above and mist below

The next day I woke up to a very cold morning. Slipping out of my cozy warm blanket I walked up to the window. The view that greeted me beyond those curtains was something that got imprinted on my soul forever. The valley below was still wrapped in mist and the sun seemed to be emerging from the golden womb of the clouds. It was like the sky was bathed with molten rays of the nascent sun. And my being floated away into that vastness of ethereal display of mother nature. "Beautiful", had a new meaning for me now. The hilly peaks merged into the sky with the clouds forming the bridge. Looking at this sight brought peace. And I cherished this moment till the clouds faded away into the horizon.

After a quick breakfast we headed out for the day's sight seeing. A few tourists spots had been shortlisted for the day as we had only a couple of days to explore.

Bhanu Bhavan  

Just down the Mall road, near the Chauk bazaar is the polished domed architectural marvel called the "Bhanu Bhavan" or as locals call it "Gorkha Rangamancha". Designed to be an auditorium, it was the cultural and social hub for public functions. Statue of Lady Saraswati adorned the entrance with two mermaids elegantly accompanying her on either side. Towering above the doom was a clock tower with globe and an eagle flying away from it. That day there was some competition being held as we saw some teenage girls making their way into hall with floral costumes. A lively buzzing crowd was assembled as well. As we moved in, the intricately carved wooden interiors were in contrast to the bright white exteriors. The woody brown inside had a homely feeling to it... just like the timbered hallway of the resort we stayed in. There was a lot to see and so we moved on. Next stop, Tenzing rock and Tibetan refugee shelter.

Tenzing rock and Tibetan refugee shelter

Darjeeling offered an awesome weather that day as we drove through the narrow hilly roads of the township. The green lushly landscape of Darjeeling Tea estates lined on the left while the mountain slope ascending to our right. Small houses dotted these slopes with winding fringe footpaths which led to their doorways. Our car made way through tight turns and hairpin loops. On one such turn Mr. Siddhart (Our tour guide and cab driver for Darjeeling) pointed out to a tall rock on the left. It seemed to be jolting out on the very edge of the slope.

On the footsteps of Tenzing Norgay

"Sir, that on the corner is Tenzing rock." informed Mr. Siddhart. He continued, "It is a famous mountain climbing spot. We can make a stop there, if you wish have some try at it." 

He then glanced back at my friends Ashis and Sai and smiled. They both weighed a little up on the weighing scale. I winked back at them, "No issues, Mr Siddhart we will give it try. I assume the rocks are strong enough.". A loud mob of laughter from all four of us burst out.

Tenzing Rock is a 50 feet high natural rock formation. It was made famous by Tenzing Norgay, one of first Mount Everest conqueror as he used to practice mountain climbing on this very rock. In his honor this rock was named after. One can easily afford this sort of adventure. They only charged one hundred rupees per person. Local instructors were present to assist us. After a thoughtful moment Ashis and Sai decided not to indulge in the activity. But I couldn't let go of a chance to plant my feet on the rock that made Tenzing an Everest climber. It was my first mountain climbing... besides for all the things in life there is always a first time.      

After the thrilled moment at Tenzing rock our journey continued along the Lebong Cart road. About 30 minutes ride away is the Tibetan Refugee self-help Center. On reaching the place we had to leave the car behind and walk a few meters uphill as there are no direct roads to the center. My initial thoughts of a refugee center was washed away on my first glance. Infact it was a self employed - self sustaining center. 

The counter at the Artifact showroom

The Refugee Center was established by Buddhist Tibetan refugees in 1959. It was initiated with just 4 workers of the community and 10 member development committee with Tenzing Norgay as one of the pioneer members. Spreading across an area of 4 acres on the hill side, it comprised of a complex of small buildings. The complex housed sections of tailoring, knitting, wood work and painting workshops with Tibetan women duly engaged in each section. As we entered the weaving section, an old lady working on a weaving machine nodded at us as if inviting us in. I put down my camera and joined by her side. She just went on with her work, occasionally smiling at me with a glint in her eyes. This is what I have always loved about traveling... you come across strangers with diverse cultures and origin but you still can have a wonderful conversation with just a smile and simple human gestures. People always tend to understand the universal language of facial expressions. Words are not always necessary.

On the extreme left corner of the complex was the showroom displaying the artifacts for sale that were made in the workshops. Two young Tibetan ladies were dealing with the guests and assisting them with purchase. Walls were adorned with Tibetan paintings and hand woven shawls and blankets. Statues and figurines of Buddhist cultures were lined on the shelves behind the counter. The artifacts were far too brightly colored as compared to the snowy white land these workmen came from. Temptation of getting souvenirs was something hard to resist. I gave in to my temptation with a wall hanging.

On our way back we offered our prayers at the Tibetan temple near the Refugee center. It was just the beginning of a new year and we wished for it to be peaceful and prosperous. With turn of prayer wheels "Khor", I silently whispered under my breath "Om mani padme hun" . 

The clouds in the sky had not faded all along the day. From behind the blanket of the overcasted sky the afternoon sun was trying to shine upon the hills. But it's efforts seemed futile. Air felt cold and heavy and our stomachs empty. We decided to have some food before we could carry on. Mr. Siddhart asked us to have a quick lunch as we still had a lot to see. But as events unfolded that day, it was never meant to be a "Quick lunch". 

We were on our way back to main town for lunch while as a matter of casual conversation I enquired a little bit about Mr. Siddhart.

"So, Siddhart ji you live in Darjeeling itself ?", I asked.

"Yes sir. This is my hometown. My house is down this very street on the other side, next to Ghum Monastery.". He continued, "If time permits we will visit my home."

His words were warm carrying a hint of ownness to it. People around this part of the world are simple and humble, their hospitality is beyond words.

"Who all live in your family?", I enquired.
"My mother is old. I lost my father when I was 23. I also have a younger sister but she is already married and lives with us.", he said.

My friend Ashis and Sai were busy cherishing the view of the mountains back seat as we were having this conversation.

Mr. Siddhart took a pause and then spoke. "I retired from Indian Army in 2009 due to my mother's ill health. After that I took to tourism with my own cab.", he said tapping on his steering wheel.

I was enthralled,  "Wow... which rank were you in?"

" I was a member of the alpha company of 13 JAK rifles." He paused briefly again.
" I served my nation along side "the Sher khan" of Indian army in Kargil war... the great Captain Vikram Batra." 

His words made us jump out in surprise and we were blankly staring at him now...
A moment before he was just our cab driver and tourist guide, but we now realized that we were sharing seats with a National war hero.

He looked back at us with a tender smile reigning across his calm face... " It's a long story sir, hope you have enough time for it.", he said while he gently glided the car to a stop near a hill side restaurant.

Well, I could feel a journey of lifetime brewing on my cards.

"Darjeeling...  what else will you be offering me"

Hymns of the Mountains – Gangtok (Part I)

Nestled among the snow covered peaks of Himalayas lies the state of Sikkim… Adorned by the scenic beauty and resonating songs of the majestic mountains. It is a world of different dimension that seems to teleport you into a promised land of snowy abode. Meandering through the uphill roads as you ascent the higher, small villages dotting the landscape can be seen downhill. Somewhere down among the valleys, the tranquil flow of Teesta river rejuvenates live around it.  The serenity of this mesmerizing land seduces one’s soul and makes it sink deeper into itself. It is not just a place you visit, it’s a quest for the ultimate purpose of our own existence.  

The township of Gangtok

Gangtok dwells in the eastern Himalayan range at a height of 5400 feet above sea level. It is the capital of the state of Sikkim and the headquarters of Eastern district of Sikkim. The town spreads across a tiny expanse of the mighty Himalayas. Houses hover at the edge of hilly cliffs. And the sky delicately seems to kiss it's heart with occasional tender fog. Life is calm here with equanimity peacefully seeping through the valley. A land that I had been aspiring to visit... A journey I had to take. 

On the Road to Gangtok

A spell binding sunrise - view from the train 

When my eyes flew open it was 6:30 AM in my watch. I could feel my body oscillating from side to side. The train was moving, though a little rough but steadily. I climbed down from my upper berth. It was a cold. The coach attendant might have forgotten to put down the AC. In search of a little warmth I decided to step out. As I opened the door, chill air rushed in sending a wave of goose bumps across my skin. Arms wrapped tight around my chest I walked up to the door. The sight that greeted me was mesmerizing... golden rays of the sun were illuminating the morning sky, silhouettes of trees zooming away and that cold rush of winter air was sending tremors through the body. Spell bound.

The sun was already up in the sky when our trains gently glided into New Jalpaiguri station. Buzz around the platform had a little high altitude fragrance to it. Our eyes undoubtedly fell upon the northeast's people, who reflect the serenity of the mountains. Somewhere across the platform tea vendors waving their hot beverage kettle were seen. In the early winter morning the temptation of sipping on a steaming cup of tea was irresistible. We got some for ourselves
.

Through the lense 

New Jalpaiguri serves as a gateway to the northeast province of India, to Darjeeling, Gangtok and even beyond the border to Bhutan. They say "Destiny is not important, but the journey is". I was about to find that out in short while. Mr. Amos our guide was already there to receive us. When we approached him, he was standing next to his car. His lean, skinny frame with milky fair skin shimmered in the early morning sun. Judging from his baby face and innocent look I expected him to be in his early twenties. Gosh, Does he even own a driving licence! A broad hearty smile from Mr Amos greeted us. He helped us stack up our luggage on the tiny roof of his small car - a silver Chevrolet beat. These vehicles are ideal for narrow mountain roads. He informed us that it would take around 4-5 hours to reach Gangtok, (125 kms). And our journey begun, to the mountains... The abode of the great Himalayas.

Coronation Bridge

After a little friendly argument I had been successful to get on to the front seat. The fact that I would be the unpaid photographer had won the argument for me. Besides, I was an armature photographer then and I loved the opportunity to refine my talent. The roads were scenic lined with tall oak and pine trees on one side and sheer cliff on the other. A complete view of the valley below enchanted the soul as we rode higher and higher. The Teesta river flowed in a serpentine path, making it's journey from the mountains down to the lowlands. It's crystal blue water carried with it the glacial chill of the Himalayas. We traveled alongside the river from Sevoke to Ranipool, an winding uphill road of around 80 kms. Mr. Amos made a stop a few kilometers from Sevoke, at the Coronation Bridge. This halt was partly because of a traffic jam and partly because he wanted us to cherish the scenic beauty of the place. A giant arc comprised the base of the bridge, colored in cream and pink. It stands as a memoir of the coronation of  King George VI and Queen Elizabeth in 1937. But locals prefer to call it "Baghpool", meaning tiger bridge as two lion statues adorn the entrance.

lone fisherman attempting to catch some fishes

Prayer flags flattered freely in the wind, stretching long across the bridge. The chime of river flowing placidly underneath casted a soothing feel on one's mind. Down on the riverside a couple of fishermen were busy in their endeavor to hook some fishes. Their empty baskets hinted at their yet unsuccessful day.  The caravan of vehicles slithered ahead and it was time for us to move on. The hilly slopes on the left possessed a constant threat of land slides. But the scenic eminence of the place seem to fade all risk factors. During a casual conversation Mr. Amos informed us of adventure activities along the way. One such activity that lured us was white water river rafting... And yup we were on it in no time.

River rafting - Riding the waves

A few kilometers uphill was a small adventure tour office. In fact it was just a shack with a tiny laptop placed on make shift table. The guy on the counter moved up to us hugged Amos. There was something that startled me, they both had resemblance. Their goatee seemed identical and their spiked hair as well. Brothers???? Mr. Amos set aside our thought as he introduced us to this guy who actually hailed from his own village. At first sight these North-east guys seem too similar, but believe me they all are different and unique. Soon enough we were given shortcut rafting lessons, basic yet life saving I suppose. A raft was loaded on to a trademark Wiley's jeep. Wiley's served as the ATV of the 80's & 90's.  It rode up hill a few kilometers and then bent down to the left into a graveled road that descended to the river's edge. The terrain was rough paved with stones of different shades and sizes. The stream of water seemed silent. It was early winters and the water level was down with no white rapids forming on it's surface.

Teesta river with the mountains in the backdrop

The beauty of the place was mesmerizing. The clear blue sky blanketed over the scattered alpine hilly slopes. The fluidity of the Teesta river trickled through the ravines kissing the tiny pebbles that laid in it's path. It was a land blessed with the grace of God himself. The icy water even could not deter our adventure seeking souls. In no time, we were in the water. Accompanying us were a guide and a raftman. We had our life jackets on, which I felt was just as a precaution. I took to the left front of the bow while my friend were asked to seat in a formation that balanced the vessel. Initial ride was smooth, not much of rough waters. Making our way through holes( water flowing over a rock) and laterals( waves peeling off an obstacle) our raft swiveled on the minor rapids. Our skill with the oars was not much of help as our guide was the one in control of the vessel. We just stroked on and tried not to fall off. It was an experience that will linger long in our memories. Towards the lowland the water became even calmer and we reached a point of low water. It was here that our guide asked us if we would like to take a swim.

Rowing through the calm waters

Me - "Swim!!! In these cold waters???"
Mr. Naresh (Guide) - "Haan, Saab ji. Ye pani upar Himalayas se aata. Isme ek baar dubki marne se bory ka sab bimara acha ho jata."
His hilly ascent was comforting but still we had our doubts. We exchanged puzzled looks. The thought that suddenly occured to me was... "What's the deal!!! It's going to be an experience of lifetime. Who knows when next I will get a chance like this?"
Without a second thought I jumped into the water. A shrill pain of thousand needles being pricked at once froze my body. The water was far too cold than I expected. It took a while for me to get acquainted to the freeze. Finally as the pain slowly dissolved a feeling of rejuvenating freshness took over. Indeed these waters cleansed one's body and mind. A few moments later my friends joined me as well.  We swam peacefully for a while before making it back on to the raft. And with this our rafting adventure was over.

We changed our wet clothes and jumped back on our Chevrolet beat. It was time now to move on ...Gangtok was waiting.

Do Drul Chorten Stupa

Gangtok welcomed us with open arms. Though it was late afternoon the cold refused to subside. Sudden gust of wind sometimes would send shivers down our spines. Mr. Amos told us that we still had time before it got dark and we could visit some monasteries. The prime religion in this part of the world is Buddhism. Many stupas and monasteries span across the mountains. I feel that peace is the way of life. The doctrine of Buddha made way to a new path of life, where sacrificing one's desires led to Nirvana. It's been 2500 years to that beatific day when Gautama Buddha attained enlightenment under the boudhi tree in Gaya. But his words and principles still resonant through out these pristine mountains and in far away lands. 

Amos drove us to Do Drul Chorten Stupa.

A portrait of Dorje Phurba

The bright white stupa stood calmly on a small hill. The dome rose up like a towering cone, having multi-tired square base. It's spire was ornated with an intricately carved golden parasol. Protecting the inner sanctum of the stupa was a square wall embedded with 108 Mani lhakor or prayer wheels. Buddhist prayers are carved on the wheels. It is considered that turning of the wheel represents reciting the mantra. The golden words seemed to emerge from the gyrating wheels carrying with it a chime of tranquility.  
The stupa was built in 1945 by Trulshik Rinpoche, one of the teachers of the 14th Dalai Lama. It housed a complete set of Dorje Phurba - The awareness being who stabs the root of anger and hatred. (As per Buddhist belief). Alongside it the stupa also contains Kangyur relics (Sacred texts of various schools of Tibetan Buddhism). 


Peace resided over the place like a winter blanket and an escape was not possible. Still, it was time now... we offered our prayers and bade our goodbye to Do Drul Chorten. 

Tashi View Point

The sting in the cold air was getting stronger and stronger with every passing minute. We desperately needed some warmth. Infact we wanted to wind up for the day and check in to our hotel. Our fingers had gone numb, head felt heavy. But Mr. Amos had other ideas. He wanted us to visit one last place. He kept it a surprise. Our many questions were only answered back with a child like smile. He stopped the car near an elevated archway. He pointed up to a series of stairs... "Wo upre Sab ji." And we obliged.

View of Kanchenjunga from Tashi Point

On reaching the top we fell awestruck. Vast open mountains were staring back at us from a distance. Ahead of us lay a series of densely vegetated array of valleys and hills. And beyond them was the golden sunlit mountain of Kanchenjunga. The portrait on the canvas of the landscape was a masterpiece of art by nature. I wondered what lie beyond those horizons as my eyes went moist. I kept staring into the nothingness for a while, but then I realized I was indeed engulfed by the enormity of these snow covered peaks. My thoughts went swiveling along with the winds into the sublime cradle of the valleys that sparks life. 

We stood there and watched the sun take a dip into the skyline of snow wrapped summits. Darkness followed fast as the sun vanished. leaving behind a purple blue tint in the sky. The chalice like night lamps on the terrace were lit up... and we decided to call it a day. We walked down to our car and headed for the hotel. We carved some much needed rest as we had a long journey the next day. 

Finally our first day in Gangtok came to an end. And we went to sleep in our cozy hotel room with the hymns of the mountains ringing in our ears.

Into the Blues... Havelock Island

HAVELOCK ISLAND, ANDAMANS

Drizzles of the early monsoon were slashing against our faces as we droves through the darkly roads of Havelock island. Twelve hundred kilometers off Indian mainland, in the abode of the Bay of Bengal is Havelock. It derived it's name from the Major General Sir Henry Havelock of the British army. It adorns the east horizon of the scattered pearl necklace like Andaman Island group. Serene and tranquil, it's like a pearl encased in an oyster deep in the blues. Thoughts and words go silent here. A feeling of self realization seeps in as you feel detached from a chaotic world of the mainland.

I would simply say, "HAVELOCKED".

Early June monsoon rains had already paid there visit to Havelock. The roads were soaked, the coconut trees dancing with the chill breeze and the clouds overhead were roaring with flashes of lightening now and then. Our tiny little scooter sometimes swiveled in the strong winds and the heavy drops of rain stinging our faces. The night was dark and cold and wet. The fringe illuminated road ahead was deserted as it was already 9 PM in the evening. Night falls quickly on this part of the world and the island goes to sleep very early. We were on our way to the Barefoot Cafe near the dock for dinner. Navigating on a new terrain can be a little difficult when the roads are new and depeopled. Still, the sound of the ships on the dock were our guide and it took us less than 10 minutes to be there.

Barefoot Cafe -The 1980's Memorabilia 

At the corner of the Havelock jetty dock is the Barefoot Bar and Brasserie. I parked my scooter on the pavement. It was a little dark but the place had it's own charm of being like an ancient mariner's chill out point. We were greeted by wooden furnished exteriors with wide open glass windows. A French connection radiated from the interiors. We made our way upstairs to the first floor with the wet wooden staircase squeaking beneath our feet. The lighting seemed dim emanating from a few overhead lights hanging over the dinner tables. The walls were matted with crisscross bamboo mat rolls. Photo-frames with retro american theme hung from them. We choose to take a table facing the open ocean. The balcony on which our table lined was bordered with thick wooden masts. The waves crashing on the dock made harmony with the thundering rain. Cold breeze slithering across our body sent chills down our spines. Me and my beloved Esposa sat transfixed as we molded into the scenic playground of Havelock's drizzling nights. We sat there for long before anyone of us spoke.

" Feels like heaven. I don't want to go back.", she whispered finally breaking the silence between us.
I nodded. My words resonating from her lips.
But my mind was churning with some other thoughts as well.
I stretched my arms across the table, holding her cold palms I asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"
She looked straight into my eyes. "Why do you ask? I think I have already told you that."
A feeling of guilt strode down my heart. "I feel I am asking much of you. You don't have to be in my shoes always."
With a gentle smile she put an end to the conversation. "I am where you are."
We ordered our food and cherished the amazing moment that we knew might not come again.

Call of the Deep Blue Sea

The Backyard beach of Sea Shell Resort 

The next morning I woke up early. "Finally the day had come".  Sluggishly I rose from my bed unwrapping the cozy blanket. It was cold that morning and clouds still lurked overhead. Some caffeine had been always tonic to my conflicting mind. I made some coffee for me. My wife was still deep in her slumber. I walked out of our room with the coffee mug dangling on my fingers. The sight that span ahead of me was breath-taking ... deep blue sea spread across as far as you can see, white sand beneath felt like silk pebbled carpet and a few mangrove tree stood sentinel on the water's edge. Our room of the Sea Shell Havelock Resort was just a few steps away from the beach. One could see waters from the windows. The sound of the waves were a melody that kept playing all the while. The resort had it's own personal beach that opened into the vast bay of Bengal.

A silent voice resonating from the waves felt like a spell that seduced me like an enchantress. My heart followed it's calling and I edged further towards the ocean till my feet could feel the water kissing them. Time lapsed by silently. My eyes were staring beyond the horizon where the two blue dimensions merged into one. Whirlpool of emotions flooded my heart and mind. For a moment it felt like eternity. But yes, there I stood facing my deepest fear... "Hydrophobia". And I was here to face it, conquer it once in for all.

By 10:00 AM we were done with our breakfast and gearing up for the adventure that lie ahead. There was very little we spoke that morning. We both were fighting our silent battles. On our trip to Andamans I had wished to go Scuba diving. And we had long conversations over it. The fact that I choose such an extreme sport was to win over my life long fear of deep waters. At a given moment we had decided against it as I risked of suffocating under water. Comforting each other and lifting our spirits we had finally agreed to go ahead. "Besides how often in life do you get a chance to defeat your fears risking your own life". We laughed heartily at this thought.

Our tour guide arrived sharp at 10:30 AM. Mr. Joseph was a short chubby guy, his noodled black hair neatly held back with a hair band.
He put forward his hand for a gentle shake, "Sir, shall we move along? It's time for your scuba dive."
A mixed cocktail of anxiety and excitement gripped me hard, but a confident voice escaped my lips, "Sure.".
I could see my wife smiling from the corner of my eye and I even knew what she thinking exactly.
We made our way to the diving site a few blocks away, walkable distance. "Sea link Scuba", a vibrant blue sign board welcomed us. The office was a well furnished beach shack. A few chairs were spread across a round wooden table and at the corner was a large reception desk. On the other side of desk sat a young bubbly lady with squinting eyes and bright red lipstick. Her ascent appeared to be of north east. She smiled to us as we approached the counter. She offered us the chairs and with a very friendly voice asked us to fill up a form. Hmmm... "this the part where people tell you that you are about to do a crazy stuff and might risk loosing your life. And if you do loose your life in the process, they will not be held responsible." I had seen it in movies but holding a form like that in your hand in real life is a different feeling altogether. It makes you think twice... no, thrice... no no, infact it doesn't make you to think at all. We just signed ticking out against all odds. I was hydrophobic and my Esposa a little asthmatic.

Tagged and Ready  "2B-5"

Just behind the shack, a narrow path led to the beach. Diving suits that we were asked to put on were rubbery black and blue. Was not very uncomfortable but somewhat skin tight. Hand in hand we strolled ahead, felling like children about to get candies. The sandy path was lined with mangrove trees whose intertwined roots emerged from the water soaked sand. Pebbles and dead corals of different hues washed up shore tainted the white sandy beach. At a distance, in waist high water we could see some guys with scuba diving  gear on. They were instructing some sign languages and gesture to the poor victims about to face the deep waters, and in a few moments we were about to join them. A small bench served as their control room where a young man was sitting and closely observing the activities in the water. He was surrounded by life jackets, oxygen cylinders, diving vest and what not. A "Monster" marked cap was what he had put with a sporty colorful sun glass resting on it's hood. He rose from his seat to greet as we approached. He asked me to put forward my hand and marked a number on the back of my palm "2B-5". That was our registration number. He then pointed to a man standing on the water's edge, "That's Raghav, he will be your instructor. Please go and meet him", he said handing us two underwater masks.

Meeting Raghav

Raghav was from Mumbai. He works for a few months as dive instructor while rest of the year he sits behind na executive desk in some corporate office in Navi-mumbai.
"Hello", he said with a serene smile. I shook his hand "Hi".
He went on, "I am Raghav. I will be your dive instructor for the session."
"Is it your first dive?", he said curiously.
"Yup, it is.", I replied.
He looked at me and them at my Esposa, "Can you guys swim?".
I shook my head, "No".
My Esposa added, "just a couple of times during my air hostess training days."
His lips perched back with strained look on his face he smiled at us. "Great!", he exclaimed.
"Nervous?", He enquired.
"I am extremely Hydrophobic. And I don't know why we are doing this!", I slyly admitted.
A thundering laugh echoed.
"Don't worry my friend you are in safe hands. Besides, Even I was hydrophobic and it took me six hours to get into the water the first time I did this. See, here I am after a couple year. Can't stay away from the blues now." , added Raghav.
I don't know if it was fact or he just said it to comfort us. But his words worked.
"Shall we?", he said asking us join him in the water.
It was time now.

Into the Open Ocean

The training session - getting ready for the deep blue sea

Raghav made us put on the oxygen cylinders and the weight belts necessary to stay underwater. Underwater masks covered our eyes and nose. We had an hour long training session regarding the utility of the diving gear and how to use it. Raghav was a professional and he made all efforts to keep us at ease. Sign languages were vital as underwater you cannot speak. We revised it again and again till we got it right. My thoughts were only stuck at one sign, "thumbs up" i.e. "get me up to the surface". At chest deep water we practiced immersing, breath control through the regulator, displaying sign languages and all. Got to admit was a little tiring but adventure has it's own way of thrilling you.  Raghav was right, when you spend some time in the water you start to fall in love with it. The crystal clear waters hypnotizes you in way that the human mind fails to resist. And finally it was time to venture into the enchanting ocean.

The vests puffed up when the air valve was released and the body felt weightless. In a moment we were floating on our backs. The instructors dragged us into deep water slowly. I was afloat facing the sky, speckles of clouds still strolling on it's canvas. I stretched out to reach my Esposa, it took a few strokes to get to
her.
I held her hand, "Seno, are you OK?", I asked.
"It's Beautiful.", she whispered.
I couldn't  see her as we were facing up. But I knew she was smiling.

Finally Underwater

About two hundred meters away from the shore the air valves were tightened and slowly we descended into the water. As the splash of aquamarine sea surrounded me in from all side a feeling of dread pierced through my heart. Hydrophobia was taking control. As trained I took a few deep breaths with my eyes closed and relaxed, bubbling air out through my regulator. A few feet down I opened my eyes and I then went SPEECHLESS. The turquoise blue water had embraced me with the warmth of a carving mother. It was as if I was floating in nothingness in her lap. I twisted around to look in all directions and the blue was omnipresent. Overhead the sunlight was sparkling, scattering on the surface of the water. Beneath me the blue was a shade darker. My eyes' quest for my Esposa was instantaneous, I wanted to hold her hand and tell her how beautiful it all felt and blessed I was to be witnessing all this, which I thought always was a dream. But it was right in-front of me now. She was a few feet away, her bright blue suit visibly identifying her. It seemed she was in a world of her own right now... Enchanted, Enthralled, Euphoric.

A solo Batfish swimming away

"Nemo" - Advised not to touch anything

We slowly glided down into deep water. The water was a little murky, but visibility was quite good. Fishes appeared in schools now. Tiny little yellow zebra-fishes danced around. A solo bat fish came very close, as if asking, "How's you mate? What are you doing down here?". It was so close that I could touch it but we were advised not to touch anything. A few seconds later it lost interest in me and swam away with a flicker of it's tail. The deeper we descended the higher the water pressure got. I could feel it in my ears. Swallowing saliva released some pressure off my eardrums. I had to do it time and again to maintain the pressure, as we were trained earlier. The ocean bed was not very sandy as I had expected it to be. Corals spread across like mounts all around, some vibrant in colour while some dull shades of grey and brown. Fishes flickered in random motions among the labyrinth of the corals. Hues of green, blue, yellow and orange were trailing along their tails and fins. A couple of Sergeant-fish were feeding absentmindedly close to a bright orange coral. My instructor tapped on my right shoulder gesturing me if I was fine. I signaled back "All good". He then pointed me to a very big sponge to our left, it was a Giant barrel sponge ( one of the largest of it's species). It was almost as tall as me. Around the corner of my eye something caught my attention. A sight that I always wanted see in real life... Reef clown fish playing on the tentacles of the sea anemone. "Nemo", he was there right infront of me. Bright reddish orange and white running down it's body. Peeping out from it's stinging abode of anemone it kept patrolling it's home. There is a unique relationship between the two habitants of reefs. The world around me felt so surreal that I was amazed 'such a realm did actually exist'.

Dance of the Anemone and Clown fish

I don't remember how long it had been since we were in the water because I was loving it. The oxygen cylinders had enough air to dive for about an hour. We were almost at the end of our dive when suddenly I felt some water sneaking into my mask. I did as I was instructed, pressing slightly against the upper part of my mask I exhaled strongly. Unfortunately I pressed the mask way too hard, and it slipped away from my head. I panicked. Shacking vigorously I tried to hold on to my regulator but in vain. We were almost fifty sixty feet below the surface. My Instructor quickly put on his reserve regulator to my face and released the air valve. In no time my diving vest puffed up as air filled in. Like a jet propelled missile I rose towards the surface. Desperately I kept staring upwards as the light got brighter and brighter with every feet of ascend. Few seconds later I emerged up breaking through the surface. Suddenly the air rushed into my lungs in jolts. I breathed in heavy, inhaling long. Felt alive again. I turned around and saw the an instructor swimming beside me (it was not Raghav), he seemed a little bit disappointed.
He asked with a questioning look, "What happened down there?"
I replied guiltily, "I panicked." 
"It's OK. Don't worry, things happen. Was it your first dive?"
"Yes", I said.
"It's fine. Let's move to the shore now." , he said dragging me steadily.
"Is our dive over?", I asked.
"Yup, time was about to be over", he spoke back.
"Where's my wife?", I enquired.
"She is with Raghav. They will be back soon.", he said.

It was relief to reach the shore again but somewhere deep within I felt a little disheartened that this awesome experience had come to an end. The weight belt felt heavy on my waist and the suit wet...  cold. I put down the belt unstrapping it from the buckle. A starving sigh escaped my lips. I sat down on the white sands, the waves tickling the sole of my feet. The vast ocean stretched far way into the fading horizon. It's the surface that is a mirage, deep below lies an unexplored world... a cosmos of ubiquitous blue, where every breath counts and life reveals it's true identity. The nothingness of our existence becomes more evident with the magnitude of  enormity of the world that we live within sips in. Colours of animate beings blooming from every spec of the enchanting world. Life merges into nature and nature merges into you.
As I closed my eyes, serenity engulfed me. I visualized myself deep in the blues with schools of fishes swimming around me. No masks, no oxygen cylinder, no life jacket... just me and the mother ocean. In her lap I stretched out my arms and let go of my burdens, just embracing her. She gently touched my body all around and whispered, "You are home my child. this is where you belong, in my lap." . My lips glided away, spreading out, smiling. I opened my eyes, the images still lingering in my heart and mind. In a distance I could see two bright blue flippers sticking out from the water and an instructor dragging them to the shore. It was my Esposa, I recognized those flippers as I had been just behind her underwater. I stood up and kept waiting for her to reach the shore. She reached waist high water and flipped to stand straight. Her eyes met mine as she turned around. Joy spilling out from her face. She walked up to me.
"Did you see that large octopus?", She asked with a bright smile on her face. Childish enthusiasm dashing ahead. Ahhh... it seemed she has a lot of stories to share.

I shook my head, "No."

She looked at me curiously standing on the sands. "Were you out early?". Her words followed.

Hmmm... It seemed I had tales of my own as well.
I smiled.

The After Moments

A few hours later we were strolling on the beach after our lunch. Loads to tell and loads to listen to. This is how life has been for us, like a book with a intricately carved cover... we read it one chapter at a time. And with every page that we turn has a new surprise awaiting us. We plan a journey out, spend some time preparing for it, live the moment,  treasured those beautiful memories that we will cherish for a lifetime to come and then we plan again.

That is life. There is a saying, "People who do not journey are reading the same page of life again and again".  

She said, "Scuba diving in the Andamans... DONE."
Eyes bright with unexpected adventure ahead she added, "Where next and what next?"

Mischief dangling on the goblet of my lips, I Smiled back...