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 towards the sun. This area is leaden with silence, occasionally broken
by the calls of kites and falcons that lap this hunting circuit.
It is surreal.
I stopped at an edge to look
around and soak in this exercise of tranquility. I stand on a rock, completely
stable, two feet ahead, cliff drops down 400 metres. Two feet to my left, a 70
degree slope down to a nameless stream, another half kilometer exercise in the
vertical. Four feet right and we move to a more gradual terrain, yet even that
ends up down to the basin. A shout in either direction gives reminds me of an
echo chamber, with echoes of multiple intensities and timing arrive at myself.
Soo surreal.
Then comes Mawsynram itself. Like
a 10 MB data pack, it starts and suddenly is over. Except for the cave. You see
there is a cave near this town. The cave is big. Huge. Local attraction here is
a shiv-ling in center of the mounth, though that is probably just a round
headed stalagmite. The inside looks like that of a Lego box except the Lego
pieces are the size of SUVs. So I did the most obvious thing one can do in this
situation. I went caving.
Jumped like prince of Persia,
operated the torch light like Lara Croft, crawled like Spiderman, this was as
you can guess it: Fun. All the tiredness of travelling on cratered roads
vanished as the fine and damp dust layered itself upon my skin. Half hour
later, the play time was over. I headed back and then stumbled into the remains
of a camp fire. This chamber had sideways stream of natural light filtered
through a sheer curtain of leaves. Proper place for roasting meat and doing
nefarious activities (not that we could find traces of any). A few twirls in
this secret lair and then I crawled back up to the car for the next stop.
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| Maw of the monster cave |
 |
| Me Modelling :P |
The Tata Sumo then started
descending the hills till the highlands became soft plains. We were in search
of a fountain of hot spring that is famous around these parts. Some men in my
company envisioned women and men bathing at this therapeutic spot, tickling the
fancies of all men in my group. But as destiny would have it, this figment of
imagination came partially true. There was a hot spring, women were indeed
present with soap. Except the only things taking place were ablutions of children
and washing of clothes with Nirma washing bar. Hot water is indeed good for
longevity of clothes. Once seen cannot unsee. Crushed hopes and embarrassed laughter
is shared among the group. Visible tension slowly disperses.
So we proceed to a local
reservoir built in midst of large chunks of stone (most 10 meters tall) and
proceeded to (our own astonishment) kayak across it. 50 bucks, take a solo boat/kayak,
row and do whatever you want for how-much-ever-time you want. Paradise lost,
paradise found.
Nice sunny atmosphere and boat
underneath, this is blissful serenity.
 |
| Tranquility |
No machine sounds, soft swaying
of water beneath my paddles and a company of good friends.
All that you need to enjoy.
India vs Pakistan on Radio wasn’t
too bad either.
The End
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