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Backpacking across upper Assam: Part 1/3

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 w...

via Instagram http://ift.tt/1u8eKJ2

via Instagram http://ift.tt/1u8eKJ2 via shashwatk.tumblr.com http://ift.tt/1oc8P9n

Assam via Instagram http://ift.tt/1suZF8T

Assam via Instagram http://ift.tt/1suZF8T via shashwatk.tumblr.com http://ift.tt/1yp9lUT

spaceexp: STS-41D Launch. Perfect photo

spaceexp : STS-41D Launch. Perfect photo via shashwatk.tumblr.com http://ift.tt/1stIXGQ

Laniakea: Our home supercluster

Guwahati through my pigeon hole

Guwahati, the mystical end point of Indian civilization, so contrasted to the standard of the Hindi speaking and pan chewing minority that the vastness of this place is all but dwarfed in the ridiculousness of the stereotype casts. As any effervescent Xbox playing 11 year old would say: LOL NOOB!!  Juxtaposed in the flood plains of Brahmaputra, at the foothills of the throne of clouds, unchanged and persisting through the long lost time and fables, Guwahati hits you with a force. The force is not like the bratty Brahmaputra which, unlike Ganga, does not smother you to sleep by toxicants, instead will come at you with a carving knife of Tibetian flood waters, its fury unabated, but I digress, this is not a story embalmed by a creature of Tennyson’s era, this is my spot light on what an idiotic, immature boy living on the gold coast of India feels about living next to a mythic river. Of course a town and a paying job are just a bonus.   Oh, but no wide eyes for me. I...