Hi! I am a normal(ish) 21 year old engineer in Guwahati,
Assam. Except that I am not originally from Assam, I hail from Mumbai, the
coastal city that is famous for its speed and impersonal lifestyle based around
its’ greatest object of devotion: money. Which happens to be completely in
contrast to the story I am about to tell, and indeed stands in contrast to the
city I currently reside in. If you don’t follow me, it’s okay; sometimes my
right hemisphere does not get what my left is saying either.
The greatest advantage of being an industry like telecom and
that too in the network division is, surprisingly, not the free phone – that’s a
bonus in itself though – it’s the reach and knowledge of its' people, in geographic
sense. Let me put it this way: To serve humans their preferred pornography, Airtel and other operators
have set up towers throughout the length and breadth of the land. And if ever
you are in trouble, there is always a local engineer or a sales rep that will help you
out with anything you want.
Armed with connections acquired from this indefatigable
industry, I ended up, for the first time in my life, in Jorhat, the town of doing
absolutely nothing and then proceeded to, much to it's chagrin, do something
about it and leave for Majuli islands.
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| Nematighat |
The ride was beautiful till Nematighat. The road was laced
with canopies of bamboo, acres and acres of paddy fields coupled with the
irresistible perfume of the soil and spices. The valley of Brahmaputra will
smother you with the richness if its silt and silence of earth. My first acquaintance
with the mighty river was magnificent to say in complete exaggeration, it was more of: 'huh, is that it'. This
artery of India is hued grayish green and garnishes itself with a calm sunlit sky
which is soon overridden by the mask of dark clouds, threatening and executing
drizzles. And as the cloudy ramparts pass, my own rosy tinted view slowly
decays into reality and I notice a layer of oil, very fine in nature, gleefully
floating upon the subdued waves, most likely the byproducts of machinations of
Digboi and Tinsuhkia.
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| Majuli |
Majuli islands are the biggest river islands in the world.
They are in fact 550 sq.km big. That’s 1 lakh, 36 thousand acres. Read it
again. Mumbai is 603 sq.km. And the island actually shrunk from 700 acres
during the last floods. Yep, its true, now close your dropping jaw.
This place is beautiful. The journey in this place is mind
rivetingly peaceful. Dotted with a motley collections of Satras (Gurukul-temples), the aural entrapment of the prayer time is only surpassed by the bigheartedness of the people of this island. Free lifts, free food and more can be
achieved only by a few words. The abject
clarity of thought and vocal meanderings of each Satra’s inmates(during prayer
time) is as deafening as the silence shrouds the atmosphere following the puja.
The island is ancient (old, that to moderately) and so are
the Satras held therein. The place is sparse in population and the people are, well,
simple. They are also, though, aware of their heritage and are rather proud of
it. This includes all the way from ancient kings to folklores of Mahabharata to
freedom fighters. And they choose to explain it to me in very careful terms about it.
Majuli does inspires nostalgia. The very nature of being on
this island and interacting with its people, wants me to come back and grief
for the briefness of the time I am to spend here. It is a place that perhaps
encapsulates the fabled magical land of Malgudi, idyllic to the extreme, every
caricature juxtaposed with everyday non-urban sights.
People do support you and go out of the way to help you,
in spite of troubles or squabbles they may be having. Hell, I convinced LK(A helpful telecom chap) and
his band of merry men/local hooligans into a troupe of Swami and friends and
they happily obliged.
Food is one place where you really get surprised. Having a
meal of a Satra (disclaimer: I just had breakfast and Prasad there) is like
overwhelming your mouth with a single taste – salt-less, pure carbs sprinkled
in raw sugar. No spices, no salts, no sir no, food is sugar and
pulse proteins only. Furthermore, with lack of footwear, you are destined to
walk the path of daggers to anywhere in a Satra and this will drastically improve your chances of
getting warts. I am nasty, aren’t I? #YMMV
Another surprise (a good one I promise) in the morning. The
most wonderful bike journey I have ever had was from my lodgings to
surimaighat. The way was full of off road tracks littered amongst meadows on
silted plains, grass laden with reflecting the pearly sunrise, dark trees, earthen
bunds, precious dikes. This, while being surrounded by the most tranquil waters
I have seen. The day already looked good.
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| On the boat back. |
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| Perfect calm |
To be continued...
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