Living in the clouds

One day, many states

A trip to the north eastern part of the country had been a dream for over a couple of years and I firmly believe that as the time gets ripe for a plan, things just fall in place.

8^th of October started very early and over the next 12 hours, I was in a state of continuous transit, crossing states of place, time and being; traversing through Karnataka, Delhi, and West Bengal and finally ending up in Sikkim.

The vacation mode was on, the moment we left the trail of vehicles along with the chaos and the familiarities of our city behind us. By the time we reached Bagdogra it already felt as if we had been away for days.

The military airport in Bagdogra takes you back in time. It operates as a civil enclave and connects various parts of north Bengal along with the north east states of India as well as the neighboring countries of Bhutan, Nepal and Thailand. To me the airport looked strange, resembling more of a railway station than a swanky airport and probably carrying tales of yesteryears in its musky narrow corridors. Once we stepped out there was filth all around; paan slushes on the mud roads and then there was the heat and the dust...

To acknowledge that you were already in the third state of the country within a span of 10 hours got the journey looming large ahead of you.

Encountering Sikkim

The close to a 7 hour drive from Bagdogra to Gangtok was the next milestone on the map. It was something that went beyond all that I had anticipated. It was drudgerous, no doubt, with the torment of narrow roads filled with potholes and the never ending stream of vehicles ascending and descending the mountain trails way in to the night. The exposure to a whole new topography which was almost surreal made up for it. The aggressiveness that we develop on the roads, defending, offending, protecting and escaping, gave way to a sense of disbelief at the splendor passing by as nature, and the ensuing calm which reflected on the roads. There was no honking or stressful driving; the roads were crowded but that was an accepted fact and the line of vehicles obeyed the natural course of movement there. It was a big deal for me because this was something that I thought I would never find in India. It got me thinking why the difference in attitude and behavior was so huge.

Finally the city line drew closer. We arrived in Gangtok. The name has a mystic appeal to it. Or was it the continuous intrigue about the place that got me attaching mystery and charm and appeal to everything that I saw around me? Time will tell in the days that followed.

Decoding the surreal

The course of the six days that followed took us to as much of Sikkim as we could explore. A surrealistic experience of the natural which seemingly turned unnatural was my first impression of the extravaganza that was around me. The kaleidoscope of colors, textures, shapes and patterns all along our journey reminded me of a movie set. I felt transported to and ensnared in the pull of nature around me.  It was only later that I woke up to the realization that what was seemingly unreal was what was the only reality.

Gangtok, I mused, was the only place among the destinations in our itinerary which could blend in to a cityscape if you squeezed it hard enough through the city sieve. Yet, despite its cosmopolitan appearance, the capital city still holds on to its individuality which roots itself back to the glorious years of independence. Much of the uniqueness of Sikkim stems from those years of the past. I came to know about that soon enough.

On the first day, we went up the majestic and historic Nathu La Pass, the old Silk Route, which enabled trade between Sikkim, India and China occupied Tibet.  The Pass swirled royally all the way up to over 14,000 feet. Our typical South Indian notions about tolerance towards the cold were crushed by the time we finished our ascent, at the Indo - China border.

The armed forces were everywhere, smilingly alert. The taxis and other private vehicles stopped to give way to loaded army trucks and it was proof of the respect that they commanded. Seeing it all in front of me, the soldiers posted there, braving the cold, living in the most basic of conditions and protecting the borders made my respect for them very real.

All through the journey I realized that no two parts of this border state are similar in anyway. Right from the temperament of the people, to the topography of the land the differences are well marked. 

From the grand Nathu La to the breath taking Lachung and the beautiful Yumtsang valley to the monastic Rumtek and the splendorous Temi and finally back to Gangtok is how the journey unfolded itself to us. Each of these destinations carry tales of their own.

For example, you should not let the ethereal quality of Lachung and the Yumtsang valley fool you. The gentleness that you first notice is only a superficial layer. The terrain is aggressive that is reflected on to the people too. They are a tough lot who take the reins and make things happen for them. On our drive up from Lachung to the Yumtsang valley we chatted up with the local women who were sharing our cab to go up to the hot springs for their weekly natural spa routine. I was intrigued by the hot springs and made it a point to go and find out what they looked like. They reminded me of the communal bathrooms in the erstwhile Roman empire; big enough to hold a group of 5-6 women who seemed comfortable sharing intimate bath space. The women who I met were confident and brave and totally in charge. Among the ones I met in this drive, there was a business woman and a medical student who spoke excellent English. They spoke about the heavy landslides which are regular occurrences that happen in the region and how the village gets together to set things back on track. 

Delicate as daisies on the outside, tough as nails on the inside.

Rumtek, on the other hand, has all the callings of a monastic village. The silence that gently floats around the place allures you. You end up following suit and losing yourself to the aura of the place. Rumtek is a popular touristic destination and you will find vendors and small eat outs making their quick buck. The difference is that you will not hear them selling their wares to you. You end up finding what you need. Like that small restaurant right outside the monastery gates. We saw it and we knew we found what we were looking for. One of the disappointments in Sikkim was our inability to find authentic food joints where we could taste the local flavours. Everywhere we went we were bombarded with the typical that was also common place; all the regular Indian masalas if not the much beaten about Chinese cuisine or worse still continental dishes.  This modest place provided us what we were looking for; fresh vegetables steamed and spiced just enough to retain the original flavour, meat that was so tender and well marinated that we did not even notice the plates emptying. The food was divine and it found its way to us.

Temi was the last destination in our itinerary. It is a predictable tea village where the heights and the clouds vie for your attention. Since we were at the fag end of our exploration, the fatigue was finally beginning to tell on us and we, hence, gave in to the cold at over 9000 feet and decided to stay indoors enjoying the splendor outdoors from warmer quarters. 

The traveler's bungalow built in the times of the British Raj was as colonial as you could imagine it to be; right from the decor to the way of life there. The rooms were huge yet spartan. and had a few necessary pieces of furniture, all in solid wood.  The bathrooms had steel buckets and housed lizards and cockroaches. An order at the restaurant would take hours to reach your table. Losing your cool was not an option here because it just would not work. Things happened at their own designated pace.

As you walk past the long corridors you would see the walls adorned with pictures from the pre independence days. There were state vehicles ferrying government officials, gliding in and out of the driveway, bringing you back to the present times. 

The place left you with mixed feelings; old and new, fast and slow, crude and refined...

The Wordsworthian reminiscence

Back home, still in the daze of the trip that went by, I kept thinking that there was something about the place, no, about the people in that place that I cannot put a finger to. Or was it both?

There was a difference and an almost indelible one at that.

I found a very telling example right on the roads where the rules are strictly adhered to. No honking or stressful driving, no wrong parking and as a result, no traffic congestion on the roads. I haven’t seen this anywhere else in the country. And then, as you interact with the people you notice that they are calm and polite yet not overtly friendly. They seem to be holding something back that they weren’t ready to let you in.

Did the place become the people?

Back in Bangalore, Sikkim was soon becoming a memory fading away in the laerm of my city. It was a few days after the trip, while I was browsing in a book store making use of some unexpected spare time, when a book on Sikkim almost popped itself out for me at the book store. Non-fiction was the last thing that I had on my mind but this book on Sikkim by a hitherto unheard-of writer, Andrew Duff, found its way in to my hands. I picked up the book without further questioning. The blurb sounded interesting and the writer had familial ties with Sikkim which lured me in to reading the book. From the moment I turned the first page I was hooked on to it. I found my answers in Sikkim: Requiem for a Himalayan kingdom. The story of the magical kingdom in the Himalayas and the heart rendering tale of its king who strove till his last breath to protect his fairyland from being swallowed by its larger neighboring country as the Cold War played out in South Asia took me a long way to  connect the many dots in my journey.