Kishore's Curry

Now we move to the other corner of Khasi hills... towards Mawsynram, also the wettest place in the world. The road on this part of our journey is sort of like Dawki’s, same rolling hills but, broken bits disguised as tarmac. And no traffic. We met a minimal number of vehicles on this road. Global illumination was soft this time as well. Crass drizzles punctuated our arrivals at various villages we passed by.  At the edge of the cliff As one approaches the very edge of Khasi hills, highlands erode into sheer drops hanging over the vast Sunderban plains that make up Bangladesh. This edge is, perhaps one of the most beautiful pieces of land I have seen, carved in shape of jagged knives projecting from Earth, pinstriped with roads twisting and winding as walls of solid stone and stratified rock rise perpendicular to the plane of earth. The afternoon mists obscures and uncovers lonesome crags covered with layers of moss, shrubs and trees that defy gravity to reach toward

A month left in Guwahati and now it is time to satiate that wanderlust and subject the pristine outdoors of North East India to my cold judgmental eyes, in hope that the sights may reinvigorate my vision. And they will.. Escapades to Shillong are now a routine affair; Hills of Khasi no more induce charm and wonder. Construction and expansion of this route has progressed, most of the road is now a four lane affair and that is in itself an achievement of engineering and logistics. The travel times to Shillong have now been cut by a third, speeding commutes of trucks that carry capital goods from rest of India to Shillong and vice versa. Most of this part of journey is spent in dreamy trance, as our company sleeps while the driver leisurely traverses the pass. Ambient noise of Shillong pulls us out of our rapture, we now negotiate a wet Saturday’s traffic. One car at time.  Khasi Highlands Next you hustle past Indian Air Forces’ Eastern air command and take a le

When you surpass the natural contours of Bomdila, you enter the mainstays of Himalayas. And just before the roads climb past the 10k feet mark, they go down, into the ravines of Tenga river, across the shoulder of the lesser Himalayas. And there lies the town of Dirang, the last bastion before Tawang and the shivering deserts of Tibet. Air is thicker, but colder. Traces of snowy winds from Tibet nuzzle my cheeks as I pass into this town, serene as the morning and picturesquely laid across the Tenga Valley. Here two different vales merge, and their confluence creates a place that looks like its held in a bowl encrusted with mountains.   Bomdila Heights Here the slopes become gentler, the recklessness of earlier mounts gives way to behemoths who softly straddle the land. It is a very cozy place. And I caught my first glimpse of snow as well. Shining brightly against the rising sun, illuminating the profile of Sela pass, it does suck out your breath. Never have I seen suc