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.
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| Khasi Highlands |
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| Edge of the Mountain |
Yet the road itself does not
command a monopoly in sublimity. Pure white sunlight filtered through clouds
lights up the surrounding vistas. Such illumination is only possible in indoor
professional studios or Satellite manufacturing laboratories. Pictures, like
those reproduced here will offer you a glimpse of what I am talking about.
Then there is this portion of
highway just before Pyrinsula, which feels like a road
on the edge of Earth. It runs is on the tip of a
ridge like hill with vertical falls of 200 meter on either side, all that
separates you from picturesque death are sheets of aluminum, 80 cm tall. Here
the clouds of the lower valleys transform into fog and mist. You will literally
have a cloud sitting squat across the road and highlands; 800 meters visibility
behind and 20 meters front. These visuals are itself worth every rupee our
travel agency is going to scam off me for this excursion. Awe and wonder are
things that we may have been deprived off in this age of super-connectivity and
information, but here, they occur to you in booster doses.
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| Wonderland |
By the time my sense of wonder
wore off, I reached Mawlynlong, Asia’s cleanest village (supposedly). It is
actually a collection of villages that share this distinction. Pathways are
concretized and common areas are maintained to a
state of cleanliness that one would assume with Aman like 5 star resorts.
Wastebaskets are installed every 50 meters, every house
recycles, all polythene bags are banned. All in all it seems difficult to
believe that actual people live here and this is not a model of a model village
with mannequins.
There is a root bridge here,
whose presence is another prescription of “wow” moments. Root bridge is feature
that is quite unique to Meghalaya. The Khasi tribe that inhabits these hills,
noticed many centuries back that roots of indigenous rubber trees grow quick
and long and not necessarily underground. Armed with bamboo and logs, they
coaxed these roots to grow across streams and ravines forming bridges (hence
the name….d-oh). The key feature is that roots grow stronger over periods of
time and many bridges might be older than World War 1 and still remain strong.
Here are some links that will explain this part better than me: 
Now this one was a ten minute
hike from the village. Atleast that’s what the board said. Turns out, it wanted
to say that the next board is ten minutes, which, unsurprisingly, also said 10
minutes to bridge. Thus after half hour we reached. And lo and behold, two aged
trees joined magnificently in an intricate patchwork of bridging is revealed. Seasonality
of rivers here caused the stream be quite small in volume and spread across a
vast area. You could walk over the riverbed 40 kms upstream to this streams’
source. We gave up walking after 200 meters. It felt like real world Tomb
Raider and Unchartered. I even saw some former camp sites here. Next time I am
bringing a tent and spending the night.
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| Walking Upstream |
The water is pure, rocks are not covered
with dust or grime and a canopy of green gives a lovely aura to the place. You
can almost discover a hidden rock temple here.
After climbing the rocky stairs
back to Mawlynlong village, I saw and climbed something that always fascinated
me since childhood. A treehouse. Made of bamboo and logs sewn together in
intricate fashion with dried vine ropes. On a 20 meter tall tree. That is four
floors (ground +3) of an average building. There was a crow’s nest lookout at
the treetop which would also give you a vantage point to glimpse the fertile
plains of Bangladesh. So I went ahead and did. And saw a fog. So took a selfie.
Came down to the next tree. Cursed karma. Shouted “oye oye yea” a la tarzan
style. Got withering looks from a bunch tourists nearby. Elicited a laugh from
a kid. Smirked at karma.
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| Mawlynglong |
Then heard a church congregation
singing our lord’s prayer. In Khasi language. Nostalgia (I studied in a
Christian school- Bombay Scottish). Time well spent.
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| blue water at 100 kmph shuttering |
Next stop was Dawki, a border town
nestled between the edge of Jaintia hills, Khasi hills and Bangladeshi
Sundarban flat lands. We dropped down 600 meters in half hour. Seriously steep
roads. We crossed the bluest river I have ever seen. And I mean seriously blue.
Looking down from the suspension bridge, all shades from clear turquoise to
cobalt to Prussian were represented. Floating by on this kaleidoscope were sisters
of Shikaras of Dal Lake, carrying fishermen, clothe in dhoti and gamcha, trying
their luck to catch a mouth watering Hilsa fish. Best of luck mates…
Our car finally slid to a stop
right next to BSF and Customs post, 25 meters from Border pillar 1275 between
India and Bangladesh. Accompanying us were a regiment of trucks ferrying
crushed rock to Sylhet and retuning with merchandise. So we didn’t pay
attention to them and clicked pictures of a foreign country that my nation
helped create and irritate. Could be worse. Just ask our neighbour to the west.
But I digress. After briefly tiptoeing into Bangladesh without passport, visa
or other documents that would keep us from entering a world of harm in
underground cells of Chittagong, we wandered back to India, watching an
uninteresting cricket match played by young boys, batting in Bangladesh and bowling
from India.
So then we raced all the way back
to Shillong for a quick valentine supper in the prestigious diabetes production
house: KFC. And proceeded to pass out from gluttony.
Good Times..
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| As we can attest |
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