mandvi – Page 2 – TRAVELTRUNK.NET

July 28, 2023July 29, 2023

7 Things on My Mind about Maldives

It was blue all around. Till an aqua ring popped up below and then some more…like Loktak’s phumdis. Only these were shallow reefs. An atoll followed, with slivers of islands guarded by a long reef where the ocean broke into white surf. Finally, the flattest piece of land, barely above the water. The airport took up an entire island. Outside, across the airport’s porch, speedboats bobbed up and down, waiting to whisk guests to islands nearby and for longer hauls, on the other side, the sea planes.

Here we were for a long weekend in the island paradise of Maldives. ‘Mala dweep, the garland of islands’. Cannot vouch for the veracity of that interpretation as one of the origins of the name but it seems apt. The archipelago nation spread over a vast area of water and barely any land, lies close to the equator in the Indian Ocean. An idyllic destination of water in every shade of beautiful blue alive with coral gardens teeming with sea life, and islands of green ringed with blindingly white sand of bleached ground coral. Where coconut trees pose, leaning just so, over a translucent shoreline, to give that perfect postcard picture. Our dream getaway was a smooth run thanks to our very own master planner but if you have to do it yourself what would you need to keep in mind?

IMUGA Form

Being a visa free country for Indians means all you need are your hotel booking details, ticket, beachwear, and your passport to hop onto a flight…and the IMUGA (Maldives Immigration) form submitted online. At Delhi airport the airline guys asked me if I had filled it. I had not because the site said I could do it ‘within 96 hours of arrival/departure’. They then gave me a heart attack by informing me that not filling it would make me incur a penalty of couple of lakhs! They tried to make me fill it right then and there, delaying security clearance which nearly gave me another heart attack! I filled and sent it while boarding and waiting to take off. At Maldives’ airport nobody asked. I filled up the one to exit at the hotel. Much as I had fallen in love with place I doubt I would have enjoyed the hospitality that might have followed if I hadn’t.

Footloose and Sandal Free

It does not really matter whether it is a days or a ten day trip when it comes to women and footwear. It is all about the possibilities. So even though I had carried cabin baggage only, I had catered. (even bought fancy flats!) Our boat docked at the resort’s wooden jetty and we walked into pristine white sand. More sand carpeted the reception, no flooring. Discovered that apart from the dining area, the bar and the cottage and its veranda, there was no flooring, no paths on the tiny island.

The shoes came off outside the room and that’s where they stayed till I left for the airport. Since I had carried no beach slippers I was barefoot everywhere, curling my toes into the divine sand. Bliss! Best to check the pics of the island and resort where you are heading. Otherwise leave the heels to cool off at home.

Stash the Sunscreen but Ditch the Liquor

Duh! The first evening was slightly cloudy with a flaming Sambuca sunset. The following days were pleasantly clear with a balmy breeze and inviting calm cool waters. Perfect to put on the snorkelling gear to explore the reefs surrounding the island all day long. So, our faces got saved but the backs went from touchy red to sullen brown. We came back branded with tan lines and burnt skin that soaked in the sunburn cream. Pack a good aloe vera based one for good measure.

Liquor is prohibited in Maldives since it is a Muslim country so don’t even think of carrying that hip flask, let alone a bottle. At the airport they flashed half a dozen things they don’t appreciate you bringing along and liquor topped the list. Having said that, it is served in the resorts. But the need for a sundowner is not always factored in the resort package for a perfect holiday. You might need to pay extra for an all-inclusive.

So Near Yet So Far

Maldives is an archipelago of atolls strung north to south like a turquoise necklace. Male and the Velana airport are on adjoining islands connected by a bridge. After landing, unless you are staying in Male, getting from there to your resort will involve a speedboat, a seaplane or another plane ride and then a speed boat. Besides adding to the cost, the seaplanes do not fly after 3:30 PM or so. If you land late, it will involve an overnight stay at Male or Hulhumale.

The Seas Steal the Show

If you dream of lolling around on a sunbed with a tall cool drink and that book you’ve been meaning to read, while the rhythm of waves gently lapping the shore is all the music your ears need, then at Maldives you’ve hit the jackpot. Ditto for those diving and snorkelling enthusiasts. On our island there was a reef just off a beach portion where we had to float flat out to avoid scrapping ourselves on the corals. A coral garden teemed with the most colourful life imaginable in front of our cottage. We floated over blue-tipped and pink corals. Sighted translucent fish just beneath the surface.

Swam with polka dotted, stripped, shaded and patterned fish and clams keeping time with the waves. Chanced upon frisky clown fish in the dancing arms of sea anemones and reef sharks going about their business. Oh, ah-ed over squadrons of Manta Rays gliding in front of the bar deck! Land looks bland in comparison. Only.. do not touch anything, it just might be poisonous. Life is as fragile as it is beautiful there and we saw swathes of bleached coral graveyards too. Check out the activity packages offered by your resort to max the wonders at hand.

Souvenir Squirrel’s need for Retail Therapy-

You are rejuvenated albeit a little charred but FOMO will not let you board a plane home without some retail therapy? For a shopaholic and souvenir squirrel for whom no holiday is complete without the proverbial acorn, Male is your best bet. Head to Majeedhee Magu or Chaandanee Magu, the two main streets lined with shops. Inhabited islands have their few shops too. The resorts have their souvenir shops and some stock exclusive things so do check them out but the variety would be limited and the prices exorbitant. In the airport after you clear immigration, opposite the perfumes and cosmetic section there is a shop for those last-minute token gifts.

Maldives is a bang worth every buck whether you are a laidback luxury lover or a water baby. You’ll come back dreaming of it and the sandbar would have been set high for any beach holiday to follow.

Fact File-

Getting There-

Velana International Airport is very well connected.
From there you can take a taxi, bus or ferry to Male.
Your resort could be domestic flight, seaplane or speedboat away. There are no local ferries to the resorts. It is best to tie up the transfer to your accommodation beforehand.
Local ferries connect Male to nearby atolls. Within the atoll ferries connect the islands.

Staying-

It depends on what you want to do. For a laidback holiday there is a plethora of resorts to choose from which go from chic to the uber luxurious. For budget travellers or those focused on diving, Male and other inhabited islands have hotels, guest houses and perhaps a few Airbnbs which are more reasonable.

We stayed at the Embudu Village Resort.

Best Time-

With its tropical climate it is a year-round destination. The high season runs from December to April. Monsoon season is not a bad time either. We went June end.

May 6, 2023May 7, 2023

Mechukha in Arunachal Pradesh Must be the Last Shangrila

‘It was golden brown? You should see it in the summer when it is green or in winter when it is white.’ We are told upon our return from Mechukha, making it sound like a seasonal chameleon. It took us almost two days of being on the road.. Correction.. one day on a road and thereafter a dirt track that went from bad to backbreaking to enter the traditional Tibetan style gate at the beginning of Mechukha. Chameleon or not, what Men-chu-kha or ‘medicinal snow of water’ (As the name means in the Memba language) at 6000 feet was, was tonic. The cold wind blew all the tiredness away and the sight of bare moulded hills, golden in the afternoon light with a gentle grey Yargyup Chhu was a vision of timeless tranquillity. What else was it?

Technicoloured Mechukha

We enter the town‘s wide main street lined with shops, their windows displaying colourful wares but everything makes its way up, like us, and adds to the cost. The gaily painted stilted wooden houses sit surrounded by barren kitchen gardens and trees in bloom. Most have colourful Tibetan prayer flags. The river is a smoky grey thread skirting the low range with sagging bridges connecting the far bank.

After a quick late lunch, we make a run for Dorjeeling village tucked behind the range which has Hollywood inspired Mechukha written on top. A great day hike, I think. The village spreads out in the shallow moorland. Scattered houses in technicolour, accompanied by prayer flags and flowering trees are a recurring sight.

We make our way to a low walking bridge hanging over a stream but some planks are missing as are bits of the side steel mesh. Having explored the land of swinging bridges a bit, I have yet to cross one but this is still not The one. Dinner is a warming bowl of thukpa and ubiquitous chowmein at one of small eateries in the Mechukha market.

Snow Show

I am woken up early and dragged out of a super cozy bed. One look at all the snow and the cold ironically ceases to matter. The clouds, like stage curtains, have risen to reveal the day’s show and though a wide V in the immediate range the towering forested range is visible. Its crest and trees covered with fresh powdery snow. All around, the dark blue mountains have a white mantle.

The tiny yellow red monastery on the hillock guarding one end, makes a dramatic picture against the descending clouds and deodar covered mountains. Across the river the prayer flags have yet not been woken by the breeze but the ponies chomp around a Chorten.

We are on the road soon, climbing into a narrowing valley. Blooming white and pink rhododendrons dot the deodar forest. We reach the ITBP camp above the confluence of the Yargyup Chhu and Lemang Chhu on the only flat ground for miles. A permit is needed to go beyond but couple of scooters whiz past. We cross a churned-up dirt patch beyond the camp, swerving and tipping crazily. I close my eyes and curse my choices and pray. (Again!) We make our way up to rocky, snow bound Lemang, the last post on the Indian side where civilians are permitted, crossing a small bailey bridge and chorten looking gay and festive with prayer flags below a gigantic rocky massif.

Milky waterfalls, twinning with the rhododendrons, disappear into the depths of the gorge. I am gifted pink ones by the man. (Later I read about a genus discovered recently that is found only in that area) We enjoy the fresh snow against a backdrop of grey clouds shrouding the bowl of whitened rock and trees that is Lemang. While returning we hear a crackle, then a rumble and see a mini avalanche on the heights above. Nature is magnificently raw here.

Many coloured Monasteries

While returning, the rain gods hold on and don’t rain on our parade, too hard. We stop to see Hanuman’s face on the rock face. Nature has hewn a face alright with heavy brows and a wry look. But Hanuman?… At the confluence of the Yargyup Chhu and a pretty stream brightened by white rhododendrons and colourful flags, a Gurudwara made by the army is a pit stop for most visitors. I think the langar is the main magnet because the legendary rock is tucked away across the road. A narrow path marked by prayer flags brings us to a bright red temple abutting a boulder.

This place, claimed by two religions, has a rock with deep indentions made supposedly by Guru Nanak or Guru Padmasambhav meditating under it, depending on whose story appeals more. Another legend takes us down a slippery wooden staircase to a cracked boulder which only the ‘pure’ can pass through. I look through the crack and feel my claustrophobia hold my adventurous spirit’s hand and nudge it towards the stairway to the stream below. I tamely follow to the stone bank below. Small piled up stones are reminders of the faithful and we hunt for the fabled wishing pool. In a rock we find a milky bowl with a never-ending supply of water and pebbles. I hesitate and with que sera sera shrug gamely fish out the three pebbles that will portend our luck. With a mixed bag deposited into the adjoining pool we make our way to the next monastery- the five hundred year old Samten Yangchag.

Gods thankfully have insight. (Pic Credits-ASR)

It sits on a hill with a commanding view of the valley, which the gods inside cannot see anymore thanks to the massive new chorten with a base of white bathroom tiles. The double storied simple wooden structure on low stilts has brightly coloured eaves and multicoloured windows. It is being repainted inside and the deities look scattered but still dwarf everything inside. The caretaker’s wife and impish little son, Dorje show us around. He scampers around laughing happily but baulks at being photographed. Outside the wind has whiplashed a peachy tree nearby into a permanent stoop.

Low-hanging Fruit

After a late lunch we walk along the river to a hanging bridge. It is low over the shallow and silent river. To do or not to do? Lets just do it! I realise if it doesn’t sway I’ll be fine but that means traversing it alone.

Also, there is no other way to walk to those picture postcard houses across the river. I do it! Haha..I hope I can repeat the feat, else it’ll be a looong walk in the dark. In the fading light a lady chasing her duck out from under her green house while a little boy peers out of the brightly lit kitchen window. We exchange greetings and she poses for a photo, asking how does she look. She looks like a warm sight on a cold evening.

Early next morning after a night of heavy rain, the deodars and the crests of the higher horse-shoe ranges cradling this golden valley are liberally dusted with white. On the road I turn back to see the peaks being swallowed up by the clouds. The show is over for the day. I’ll be back. I’m ready for an encore, in any colour.

Fact File-

Getting there-

Rail– Take a train to Dibrugarh, Guwahati or Naharlagun and then a taxi to Mechukha.

Road– Mechukha is a two day journey with a night halt at Aalo.

Air-Pawan Hans helicopters connect Naharlagun (Itanagar) via, Pasighat and Aalo to Mechukha on Mondays and Saturday. But they are weather dependent.

Staying– Aalo has simple budget hotels and homestays.

Mechukha has mostly homestays and one or two small hotels.

Best time to visit– September to May. But carry your raincoat and the water bottle!

Avoid plastics or carry them back .

March 31, 2023July 28, 2023

Loktak, Keibul Lamjao and Ima Market- The 3 Must Dos in Manipur

The mountains ranges below are like endless green waves pushed into crests and then just as suddenly they give way to a vast valley with a lake on one end. Welcome to Manipur! With just three days to spare for this trip our destination is essentially the Loktak lake of the phumdi fame. But first the shopping bug has to be dealt with and not anywhere but at the iconic Ima market! As we drive towards town the traffic is sparse and the shutters mostly down. We reach the market but the priestess at the market’s temple (also shuttered…Gods are also only that available on an off day) informs that the one day in the month that the shops shut i.e, on Ekadasi is today. She smiles and beckons me closer to put tikka. I say a prayer and take it as a propitious sign, closed market notwithstanding. The language is different as are the Gods, old rulers of the realm- Sanamahi, are the presiding deities in the temple here. We make haste for Moirang and Loktak…driving past step-fields lying fallow at the foot of the hills ringing the valley.

Loktak is more than a Lake

We have just an hour of daylight left and the new jetty at Sendra, all spruced up thanks to G20, with it’s hastily planted carpet lawn, instant flowers, colourful flags and giant dredgers lined up, closes at 5. We head into the lake like eager beavers and make straight for a phumdi. The floating biomass looks solid enough and we get down from the wooden jetty where we have docked. It bobs a bit but holds. A few pictures and it is time to head back.

We cross lone figures on their lean long boats heading home in the falling dusk. In the night solitary lights twinkle in the dark waters. Loktak gets its name from ‘Lok’ meaning stream and ‘Tak’ meaning the end. It is Asia’s second largest fresh water lake but it’s the floating phumdis– floating greenbergs of soil and grass, a few solid enough to be inhabited, with their own cyclic regeneration which is now threatened, that are the star attraction here. The circular photogenic ones though, are manmade and are essentially like fishing ponds.

The next day the sky is clearer as is our agenda. After an early morning date with the Sangai, followed by a local cuisine lunch which includes the tasty eromba and divine black sticky rice pudding, we head for a fisherman’s hut on a phumdi for a tea picnic. We are told that the government has recently cracked down on the motley lot of homestays which had sprouted on them. Not to be deterred, it is ‘self-help tea in a thermos’ that we carry along! We skim over reeds barely underwater, past fishing poles strung out on the water and make a whole raft of coots and ducks take flight reluctantly to make way for us.

We nose onto a phumdi with a tiny hut, a log boat parked in front, a banana tree growing beside the hut, and balled up nets to catch the fast drowning sun. We walk on the wooden planks to the adjoining one with another hut. There isn’t a soul around other than a mewling hungry cat. The boatman pulls out a few sprigs of some plant and offers me one. The stems have a strong flavour. A lot of the island is edible it seems! Sitting in the log boat we drink in the silence with sights of huts on tiny floating islands around, along with our tea. The hills are silhouetted against an orange sky as we reluctantly leave this oasis of green huts on greener grass.

The Dancing Deer of Keibul Lamjao

Its an early start for the world’s only floating sanctuary which is home to the endemic and endangered Sangai. The deer is an integral part of the Meitei culture and is considered one of the rarest species in the world, yet it’s home is just a forty square km national park, threatened by a reservoir created to feed the Loktak Hydel Power Project. The stags have four antlers with two seeming to sprout from it’s brow.

We head up to the viewing point and the ground in front is a bowl of drab yellow brown grass covered by a lid of haze. What feels like a long futile wait ends when out of the tall reeds a brown bit steps out. It is a female Sangai. Soon another emerges, this time with a fawn.

Then in the far distance in the fire line a stag or two appear. Their antlers dipping as they feed. The forest guide is a young, chatty fellow. He is the only one left out of the couple who were trained since there is no pay (how does that even work??!) He offers to take us into a narrow channel below in his canoe. A running commentary on Meitei culture ensues while he steers us towards a clearing. This is where he got Rocky (of Highway on My Plate fame) we are told. The phumdi’s black soil is still churned up as we gingerly get down. As the soft carpet of soil and grass sinks under us and undulates with each step, I tell myself it has taken on weightier things. No wonder the deer look like they are dancing! The boat feels so stable and solid in comparison.

As we reach back another fellow in a smaller boat is stripping bits of the tall reed. Food here is sourced from things that grow naturally. Imagine not cultivating and yet never running out of food!

Moirang’s Moment of Glory–

Moirang near Loktak is a small town with a big place in Indian history. The Moirang king was the most powerful of the various clans in Manipur and it was here that the tricolour was first hoisted by the Indian National Army on India’s mainland in 1944. There is a small museum dedicated to it. The vibrant innaphi (stole)and phanek (wraparound skirt) worn by the women in the quaint market are too much of a temptation and I end up buying a phanek which is stitched up in a jiffy behind the shop and the owner indulgently shows me how to wear it. The fresh market has women selling giant cabbages and string beans amongst other greens and buckets of snails. A woman churns what smells like fermenting fish in a giant earthen pot.

Imphal’s Iconic Ima Market

One cannot leave Imphal without a visit to the iconic Ima Keithal or Mother’s Market. The nearby Kangla Fort will have to wait for another trip. The nearly 500-year-old market run and managed exclusively by married women is housed in three adjoining buildings. The buildings are an airy, spacious and clean affair with open stalls on elevated platforms. The extra stuff gets stored into giant trunks below as we see in the other two portions where brightly coloured local textiles vie for attention.

The fresh produce section is bustling early in the morning and today the temple at the entrance with its circular paper prayer flags is open. Women stop to pay obeisance and get the traditional long sandalpaste tikka put.

The wares here range from handicrafts, everyday essentials, groceries, local food items to fresh produce and everything else in between. A woman admonishes me like a child for smelling some fresh vegetable, another encourages me to check out the varieties of mushrooms piled up (so tempting!) and one sitting with mounds of varieties of rice being feasted on by bees laughingly chides me for wanting only her picture and not her wares!

The fish in the trays still have pink gills and in a corner we discover food stalls dishing out fresh local cuisine. Its too tempting to pass on so I clamber onto the platform where the proprietress sits in between the low table and bench and doles out copious quantities of rice and portions of fried fish, vegetables and chutneys in bowls. Fermented fish is the staple ingredient in a lot of local dishes and the eromba here is flavoured with it. I am given a mug to wash my hands into and a towel to wipe them. Only a mother would think it through.

Fact File-

Getting there-

Air- Imphal has an International airport and has regular flights from Delhi, Kolkata and Guwahati.

Rail– The nearest railhead is 200kms away at Dimapur. From there buses and taxis are easily available.

Loktak is approx. 40 kms from Imphal.

Keibul Lamjao National Park is a 20 minute drive from Moirang.

Staying–

At Moirang and Sendra there are a few basic homestays and hotels.

The Sendra Park and Resort offers cottages.

Miscellaneous–

The boat rides start from the new Jetty at Sendra and an hour’s ride cost 2000/-.

The entry fee for Keibul Lamjao is 30/- for Indians and 200/- for foreigners and there are extra charges for cameras.

Language can be a challenge as the locals often do not speak Hindi or English.

Best time to visit is post monsoon November onwards to March.

As always, be a conscious traveller and carry your own water bottle.

February 16, 2023February 17, 2023

Kohima-At the Cultural Crossroads where East meets West

The poinsettias grow wild along the road as we enter Kohima. The red leaves announce Christmas is round the corner. Infact the festive season is evident as we drive out of Dimapur. The traditional gates to the ‘model villages’ are colourfully decorated. Enroute small houses have red stars tied to bamboo poles. A religion from far away has found a home and eco support! Makeshift shops along the way sell potted hybrid red and white poinsettias. So, so tempting!

Then we cross the funereal shops…. Stocked up with a profusion of bouquets, arrangements and wreaths, at first glance I mistake them for flower shops. Then I spy a polished coffin lurking behind cascading artificial flowers….. what ?? When I look for the shop names, I see boards announcing ‘The Final Resting Place, The Last Journey’…okay then…

Night falls by the time we reach Kohima and driving on the dusty, broken road the lights of the capital draped over several hills are visible from a distance. A traffic snarl so typical of a hill station greets us. Most come for the Hornbill Festival but Kohima has lots more to offer than a bed and breakfast for the visitors. What should be on your itinerary while visiting this quaint hill station?

Beyond Kohima go- Into a Bamboo Bowl: A Hike to Dzukou Valley

Kohima’s War Cemetery

Standing in the heart of town above the traffic crossing where we got stuck in the night is the stone with the famous epitaph ‘When You Go Home, Tell Them of Us and Say For Your Tomorrow, We Gave Our Today.” Set in the War Cemetery’s lowest step in an alcove, these words on the tall obelisk have been oft quoted. Kohima is one of the few places in India where a World War II battle was fought. A battle so fierce and bloody, it laid waste thousands of lives and earning the sobriquet- Stalingrad of the East.

Read about a lost path, a forgotten road in- Discovering Digboi’s 3 Must-Dos

The war cemetery is laid out on the ridge where the Deputy Commissioner’s house stood, with a tennis court on its estate. Nothing remains of the house but the tennis court on a higher step is marked out. A band practises somewhere on the premises as we slowly walk around the terraced lawns with rows upon rows of stone markers with bronze plaques stating names and touching messages, giving glimpses of loved ones lost in honour, names that cut across creeds, cultures and continents. The tunes of ‘The Last Post’ and ‘Rouse’ wafting around make the experience even more poignant. A cherry tree grafted from one that stood here during the battle survives like another memory kept alive.

Read what lies- Along the Lohit on the Long Road to Walong

The Cathedral of Kohima

The religion might have come from another part of the world but the structure of the most important church in Kohima is visibly native. The first church in Nagaland was set up in 1872 but as the church of the Bishop of the diocese of Kohima, Mary Help of Christian’s Cathedral is not only important but its architectural rooting sets it apart. Inspired by the traditional Naga house, it is all soaring angles outside. Its spacious, vaulted interior is held up by steel girders.

Read about the eclectic collection of the- 3 Churches in Mhow: Discovering Obscure History and Outstanding Carols

Painted glass above the altar lets in ample light to show a semi-circular seating and the revolving wooden doors carved with traditional motifs among others open to steps leading to a ground with a view. A wooden crib here has supposedly been made from wood of an olive tree from Bethlehem. Kohima’s story is somehow linked to the Japanese…the funds for the church came from survivors and families of the Japanese soldiers in remembrance of their ones lost here in battle.

Main Street Night Market

I couldn’t find time to visit the famed Mao market on my flying visits to Kohima but I was not going to miss out on the night market on the main market street. During the Hornbill Fest the road closes to the chaotic traffic that plagues it during daytime and the street market keeps time with sunset. It hits the nose and makes me salivate, but I take my time. I walk the length of the festively lit up road lined with makeshift stalls, some with tables to dine, to see the fares and build up an appetite. Meats are being dabbed in oil, grilled, fried, doused in sauces. The pork momos come with a fiery chutney (This is the land of the Raja Mircha!), the sausages and tender grills on thin bamboo skewers, the crickets are fried crisp and I am allowed to sample one but the larvae are too generously packed on a long skewer. I pass.

Read what could not be passed on in –Satiating Nostalgia Under the Winter Rain at Junia

Thukpa is soul food and cannot be passed on, even here. At one stall the chatty young girl serving is from the Sumi tribe and teases the boy wearing a jacket with a bull, manning the counter. A mithun he corrects her, as he is from the Ao tribe. Another boy is wrapped in a Sumi shawl I am told. (By and by one realises it is not just a ‘Naga shawl’! Its everything! From a skirt to a dress to… well, a shawl!)

What else to do on a short holiday?- Part Two- What Not to Miss on a Weekend Vacation in Shekhawati

There are game stalls, stalls selling knick-knacks and souvenirs and ofcourse lots of eateries. At one end a group of men crowd around a table and let up exultant shouts now and then. Gambling for live chickens I discover later. Luck lays out a feast for some and nobody seems to gamble their winnings!

This capital city is a melting pot where influences from far flung lands add a piquant flavour to the local tribal cauldron. The final dish served is worth sampling and savouring.

Fact File-

Getting there–

Dimapur is the nearest railhead and airport.

It is about 70 kms but with the road widening and construction takes a minimum of 2 hours to reach by taxi.

Food–

At the night market the skewers start from 100/- but options for vegetarians are limited and the stalls serve mostly meats.

Miscellaneous-

Entry at the War Cemetery is free. It is shut on Sundays.

Sunday is a day for prayers and rest for the entire state!

January 20, 2023January 22, 2023

A Handy Guide on How to do the Hornbill Festival

It is 9:30 in the morning on day 2 at the Hornbill Festival as I sip the rice beer being offered. It is followed by flavoured roast gram in a tiny bamboo mug hooked to a finger. I am sitting in a sunny spot just below one of the pavilions. As soon as the Chakhesang tribe started filing out of their Morung humming in unison, beer and snacks in hand I scooted behind and grabbed my spot from the previous day on the stone steps. I got lucky that they decided to sit right there. I offer the goodies further to the elderly man from the Kachari tribe sitting on the other side next to me. I get a disapproving shake of the head and a haughty nose is gently turned up and away. I have a lot to learn….But what I did learn was how to maximize the minimum days I had at the festival at the Heritage Village of Kisama.

1. The cultural performances at the main amphitheatre begin by 9:30 am or later, depending on what time the chief guest of the day deigns to arrive.

2.Reach about an hour early and head for the Morungs right behind the arena. Each tribe has it’s own Morung where the participants congregate, get ready, get a pep talk, have their meals and perhaps an early morning tot to limber up! Perfect place to meet people, chat, get a glimpse of the Naga’s traditional life not to mention some great pics as well.

Get a glimpse of traditional life in- A Tale of Two Veiled Valleys: Part I- Shangarh’s Meadows are meant for Musing

On day one as I stood taking pics of the Ao youngsters seated around their painted log, getting a pep talk and then say a prayer, I suddenly found an arm around my shoulder. One of the older guys wanted to be photographed with me!

3.Then head to the arena and find a spot, preferably on the right of the centre on the stone steps. Apart from sitting with a participating tribe probably, it offers apt lighting and stays in the shade. The sun is toasty early on but one can get baked soon enough. Focused photographers favour sitting just inside the fence on the matted grass of the arena.

4.Each tribe present is introduced at the beginning of the day’s programme. They stand, ululate and generally make their presence felt. Their performances, from courting songs, enactments of games and head-hunting scenes are short affairs and often the same tribe perform different facets on different days.

5.Around 11:30 am there is a break and the participants head for the Morungs for lunch and drinks. On the first day I met a youngster at the Chakhesang Morung who happily showed me around, pointing out artefacts like a log used for pounding the grains, baskets used by men and women and offered tobacco being cured by barely there smoke curling up. The next day at the Zeliang Morung it is strips of pork hanging from bamboo rafters being smoked that has us flocking around in fascination.

Read about an obscure town’s claim to fame in-Nasirabad’s Kachora: More than a Savoury Story

6.Pick a tribe whose food you want to sample. The flavours might differ but the basics remain the same- sticky rice, pork smoked or plain spicy, beef, a flavourful green vegetable, a spicy bamboo shoot chutney and perhaps salad. Its self-help once you buy a coupon and only the meat portion is served fresh from the kitchen in a bowl. On both days I had lunch at different Morungs and the chunky pieces of divinely yum smoked pork from the Sumi tribe were generous enough for greedy me to share with two fellow hungry young visitors who agreed that either you love the fat or you don’t! One did, the other didn’t.

The cool rice beer(finally!!) in a tall bamboo mug came from the Chakhesang tribe on both days. Not too potent but since I was neither willing to take a chance to discover otherwise nor willing to let go off the mug, I was reluctantly allowed to wander off with the precious mug with a promise to return it. I did.

7.Afternoon shows are more packed and I think after the beer drinking more entertaining offstage! The elated head-hunters after giving a rather artful performance carried on waving the rather shrunk head on a spike on a side, being cheered on by their tribe members.

8.Apart from the cultural show at the main arena, there is a World War II Museum ground where this year there was a drool worthy collection of vintage Willi jeeps. Another arena had a Naga Masterchef competition on. On a side is an arcade of stalls selling souvenirs, jewellery, shawls, dahs, knives, chopping blocks, pottery etc although many Morung’s have knick-knacks and shawls distinct to their tribe on sale as well.

9.There is a separate section for organic produce, a competition for local vegetables (super-sized cabbage anyone or an enticingly luscious red raja mircha?) and humungous floral arrangements you can disappear into. Must try the fresh juicy pineapples and kiwis.

10.A coffee joint with a sitting area next to the main amphitheatre is a big magnet in the morning. There are pay and use loos. Thank God!

11.It gets nippy as soon as the sun dips behind the hill so keep the jacket handy. Attend the evening concert which starts after 5pm. Sounds early? Remember its not really IST here and in winter night falls by that time. There are families sitting around wondering what is going on, youngsters high on music, solitary figures brooding over beer lost in the voices only they can hear. The music genre is mostly EDM and rock. The atmosphere eclectic and electric!

12.If the pulsating music is not your scene try the Morungs. I discovered bonfires, candlelight and trios belting out classics to chock-a-block full tables.

13.Or you can, if you are staying at Kohima attend the night market in the main street. With Christmas round the corner the air is festive and aromatic with live grills.

Read about singing skills in- 3 Churches in Mhow: Discovering Obscure History and Outstanding Carols

14.Various events are held simultaneously across venues scattered across different villages and resorts. Check out the schedule before making your itinerary.

15.As a solo female traveller it was a pleasant revelation. The people are friendly but nobody pays attention to a single female. It was so nice to be ignored!

The elderly French photographer sitting beside me deplored the commercialisation as did some of the regular attendees (yet they still turn up). Be that as it may, the festival is a vibrant smorgasbord showcasing the pomp and pageantry of the Naga’s distinctive tribes.

Fact File-

Kisama Heritage Village is about 12 km from Kohima.
There are many tented camps and a few homestays around Kisama Village.
The festival is from the 1^st to the 10^th of December every year.
The entry fee per day is 50 rupees and there are extra charges for DSLRs.
A meal generally costs Rs300 and a rice beer Rs100.
Remember to be a conscious traveller and always carry your own water bottle!

December 9, 2022December 9, 2022

Into a Bamboo Bowl – A Hike to Dzukou Valley

Thank God the man came along! And thank God for the advice to take a bedsheet. We were like a giant calzone stuffing in the night but at least it was a minty clean wrapping! I had been wanting to do a trek in the north-east but the rains played truant for too long this year and travelling to Walong showed exactly the kind of terrain one might expect- extremely steep slopes and dense jungles mostly. So how was Nagaland’s most popular and doable hike, the Dzukou Valley trek? Steep, yes but also stunning, short, and surprising!

Facts First-

1. Dzukou valley is part of the ancestral territory of the Angami tribe. It is managed by the South Angami Youth Organization. So, all the trekking companies have to go through them to book the tents, rooms and dormitories in the Rest House complex there. There seems to be no other camping ground.

2.Everything is available on hire to stay there from foam mattresses to blankets. How often they get cleaned (if at all!) is a Big question mark. Its probably on a first come first serve basis. The rooms have basic toilets, no running water and no electricity.

3.Food is available at the Rest House in the valley. You can ask for fresh rice, dal and vegetables or have the ubiquitous Maggie and cup noodles.

4.So, don’t spend money going through a trekking company. Just get a good guide. Its probably mandatory.

5.The distance and hours of walking (approx 3 hours) involved don’t warrant a 2-night stay…. Unless you plan to explore the small valley thoroughly or just want to chill.

6.We took a guide to show us the way and carried small backpacks for an overnight trip but with enough food to last many days!

7.Rainy season is the most popular time to do the trek, especially if you want to see the endemic Dzukou lily blooming. We found post monsoon to be the ideal time. (Climbing or walking those paths in the rain isn’t for me.) The sun is strong but the nights are cold.

Jungle Jamboree

After a night of admiring the twinkling lights of Kohima and Chakabama below us we start from Zakhama a little behind schedule. I spend the time waiting for our vehicle, to chase some Green-backed Tits (Some sense of humour the Englishman naming them had – once said a birdwatcher.) preening and flitting around a bottlebrush. A gorgeous yellow orchid in full bloom adds colour to the barely there bottlebrush flowers. Driving on the road to Viswema and then on the track to the starting point we find there isn’t much difference between the two, both are equally rutted only the latter is rocky enough in places to warrant a 4/4 drive. A parking lot and a massive new house mark the jumping off point. Soon the roughly hewn stone steps begin and the path winds its way up through thick oak forest. Sunlight barely filters through and the soil is as moist as the tree trunks throughout. But the gradient ensures we are soon sweating it out. At places the steps are the roots of the trees and I need to scramble up. We have company throughout and the trail is marked unfortunately by plastic discards. A child is piggy-backing down on a guide and I offer him an energizer bar. Wrong person…should have given it to the guy carrying him. A group of youngsters singing on top of their voices follow…they certainly don’t need those bars! The French couple climbing up rue that they won’t be able to sight any bears or monkeys now. I’ve only encountered two kinds of beings on treks- those who must sing or have music playing or those for whom the wilderness’ silence is the music. As we emerge above the forest the path narrows and there is a giant sloping boulder to be crossed to get to the summit. I ask the man to remind me why I do this to myself. He gleefully says he will next time!

There is a crowded view-point on top. The vistas make a pretty picture- a cerulean sky and rolling hills, their greens made darker by forests and shadow throwing low clouds. A gushing stream hides somewhere in the forest, to be heard but not seen. On a side the path disappears between two grassy slopes…

Discover grassy slopes and more in- A Tale of Two Veiled Valleys: Part I- Shangarh’s Meadows are meant for Musing

Bamboo Bowl Beckons

It isn’t grass! Its bamboo that we walk between, on a narrow even path, for the next two hours. Even the larks stick to the path! The light green bamboo covers every inch of the valley. At places it is just waist high but at times it forms a tunnel to walk through. There are crystal clear tiny streams to cross and charred remains of a forest patch. The blackened trunks stand out dramatically. In the strong sun we would be slightly burnt too if it weren’t for the tall bamboo providing some shade.

The green and red roofed rest house is like a homing beacon far away on a ridge. We reach the complex of wooden huts spread on the only flat, open ground. We choose a room from the meagre options, dump our stuff, find two chairs and have our packed lunch in a secluded opening with a bird’s eye view of the valley. It’s a shallow bowl of bamboo covered mounds. Right now, post the rains it is still green but come winter it will be covered with frost. Fall colours tinge the tips of a thick grove of trees lining the sides of a stream on a slope nearby. Across the valley there seem to be caves in the rock faces.

A trek to remember was- Tarsar Marsar : A Trekker’s Take

The strong sun and the climb have me wanting to crawl into bed but the man wants to explore this bowl. I reluctantly follow him across the helipad (apparently used only once to douse out a major fire in the valley) and down the slope to the bottom where a cold stream meanders. A circular stone platform with a menhir on the edge doubles as a church we are told. On a mound across the stream a giant white cross makes an incongruous sight.

The sun is descending quickly and we will need an hour to climb back to the rest house. We make it back just in time to catch the sun set on the rim of the valley, warming ourselves with a cuppa. The clear sky burns a dying amber orange before darkness descends. The milky way is a pale band in the cold starlight night.

Dzukou’s Denizens

I wake up to the sound of someone rummaging through our open backpacks. We have unwanted company in our room in the night and he is hungry! Although we never see him, the rat wakes us up intermittently even after we hurriedly pack everything and chuck the dinner plates outside the door. In the morning when I tell one of the youngsters running the place, he looks troubled and then thoughtfully says they’ll have to shoot it. Huh?!…okay then…the Nagas are hunters all and the guide did mention getting permits to shoot bears and deer. Still, a bit extreme perhaps and I suggest a trap instead. Visions of the room being shot up as the wily rodent scampers around play in my mind!

On the way back since we are the last to leave the campsite, we don’t meet a soul till we reach the view point. Its amazing to have a piece of earth to ourselves for couple of hours. The deep dark oak forest’s silence is broken by a flock of Black-eared Shrike Babblers and scampering on a tree ….a giant mouse-like creature! The Nagas need to up their hunting skills…

November 11, 2022November 11, 2022

Along the Lohit on the Long Road to Walong

To cross over to Tibet from India one envisages traversing across snow bound passes. Nigh impossible in most seasons. But there is one all-weather pass which the Chinese used in the ’62 war for entering India to reach Walong. It was a maw so fiercely defended they called it the Tiger’s Mouth. Here in the eastern most Indian valley of Namti, the Himalayas part for the gushing, rushing Lohit. To call it a mere tributary of the mighty Brahmaputra is an exercise in semantics. There is nothing mere about the ferocious and unforgiving waters, cradled by steep ranges, covered in a canopy of evergreen forests constantly being fed by the rains and rivulets. Into this fecund land of excesses we take a driving holiday.

We have waited for the monsoon to retire but well into October and it seems to be on climate change steroids. And now cyclone Sitrang is heading our way so between Mechuka (where no flight will go for the next 2 weeks), Dzukou (trekking in the rain is not my idea of fun) and Walong, the safest(haha…!) bet is to sit dry in a vehicle and drive!

Tezu: A Foot in the Hills
There is a light drizzle when we start and it keeps company through the day. The pot-holed bypass of Tinsukia is familiar till we take a better option through Makum. Crossing into Arunachal sees a dramatic improvement and we breeze past Kongmu Kham or the Golden Pagoda where expansion work is on in earnest. The Lohit before Tezu is a latte coloured meandering mass. We hit the hills in the quickly fading light post lunch at Tezu, a little town wedged between the hills and the river where the silversmiths are masters of upscaling (much before it was even a word) silver coins from all over the country into tribal jewellery for the Mishmi tribe whose land this is.

Read about intrepid merchants in-Bikaner’s Merchants and Their Mansions

The road narrows as the foliage gives no quarter. Looking at the transmission line climbing up the steep slope past a rock face makes me wonder for the nth time how is it laid! The jungle camouflages the road entirely as we make our way past that rock face in a bit! A newer, more level road is being constructed around the hill but it is pretty much still a dirt track with umpteen slips. So we climb up and down the looping road through Hawa Pass in the dark. Although its just about 5 in the evening, night has fallen with a strange ambient glow. The black hills are silhouetted against a charcoal grey sky as white clouds float in the valley.

We cross Tidding bridge on its namesake river and climbing up on a broken village road masquerading as a highway we hit truck traffic! Very soon it is no more than a slushy track when suddenly a landslide halts us. A boulder has landed in the middle of the road. In the dark the only sound is of running water on the slope bringing more stones clattering down. Heavy duty machinery swings into rescue and a short walk across a mound of sliding silt and a change of vehicle has us in Hayuliang warming up with a brandy in hand as the rain now drums on the roof.

Travel on a better road lesser explored in –At the Darwaza of a Road Less Travelled

So long Hayuliang
As we start for Walong Sitrang swirls around gently the next morning too, making the little overgrown village of Hayuliang a blur. While we wait for another landslide to be cleared, standing in the drizzle, we watch the river froth over gentle rapids at a bend where trees dip their green fingertips into the water. The clouds are constantly on the move. Skimming the water, wafting through the trees.

The road here onwards is a dream run mostly. Only at Moody nala we come to a screeching halt. The bridge is not yet complete and Moody nala is in snitty spate. A change of vehicles into a higher 4/4 and we plunge into the teapot tempest. My latent ostrichness come to the fore and I shut my eyes and start praying. I had been willing to walk across the very short bridge!

Vehicle and driver prevail but not before I glimpse almost half the vehicle submerged in rushing, swirling water! The rest of the way to Walong is on a gentle road along the river through ranges covered with thick tropical forest and peaks lost in the clouds.

Explore-Mandu and Maheshwar in the Monsoon Mist

On steep slopes, houses of thatched bamboo pop up now and then, with signs of ‘slash and burn’ cultivation around. Swaying footbridges connect the two banks. We see a magnificent specimen of a Mithun, the prize possession of the Mishmi tribals. Ramshackle wooden shops line the road now and then, their window sills bare of wares and then just as suddenly from one hill to the next, the deep evergreens give way to a reddish brown burnt slope of pine and grass. The range curves and the valley widens into a bowl with Walong on a side.

Walong is a Grove of…
Walong meaning a place of bamboo groves in Mishmi still looks like a big village… with groves of unripe oranges trees and an airstrip! A memorial at one end of town on the road reminds us of the battle for Walong. The Chinese came over the mountains into the valley since they could not make their way along the Lohit.

We drive up 18 km after lunch to Helmet Post, site of a fierce battle where till years later clothing and battle gear still emerge in the thick undergrowth. We startle a family of pheasants out for an early supper into flight. Across the valley the rising clouds thinly thread through tall pines. Nobody has seen much wildlife around. Frankly speaking when every inch of land is covered in foliage, if it didn’t want to meet you, you wouldn’t even know its there…

Kaho in a Corner
In the land of sagging, swaying bridges we walk across the biggest one to Dong village the next morning…aptly called MSB or Mule Suspension Bridge. If it can take a mule it can take me….The FSBs I refuse to put a foot on! Dong village, comprising all of five to seven huts from what I can see, is famous because a small meadow on a nearby hill called Upper Dong is where the sun’s rays first fall in India.

Where do you come from, where do you go?

From there it is a drive under hidden waterfalls and across the ripening mellow yellow fields of Meshai village to reach Kaho. India’s easternmost village is inhabited by the Buddhist Meyor tribe, now divided between two countries. We meet the Gaon Burra or village head and a few other villagers at the simple temple on one end of the village. Other than a lack of educational opportunities they seem a contented lot. The GB proudly shows us his homestay. A simple long wooden house with bright geraniums lining the veranda. He will find many takers…we crossed quite a few soaked bikers. At the far end of the village disappearing into the trees are white flags…prayers in the wind for departed souls. Across the Lohit a sheer rock face seems to have a road running across..can’t be…

Another border village and unforgettable river-Chushul &Chumathang – Hello Indus & Iridescent Colours!

Watch out at Wacha
We are crossing that rock face and I have my heart in my mouth again as I look down the sheer fall into the river below. The drivers by now have my vote though. We reach the BPM (Border Post Meeting) ‘hut’ at Wacha. Its like a fancy resort… I go to the loo.. It is a fancy resort! This is where the Chinese and Indians wine, dine and show their cultural prowess during their border meets. Its a complex of AC conference halls and glass huts etal under pine trees beside the Lohit. A lone soldier keeps vigil by the river, oblivious to the never ending drizzle.

Kibithu’s Cookies Melt in the Mouth
After a night at Kibithu, a tiny hamlet of wooden huts perched on a flattish hill with a bird’s eye view of pristine waterfalls and on a clear day of a long TAR valley we make an early start back. Not before we visit the bakery run by local women. They’ve been helped by the army and trained by an NGO from Pune. We find fresh faces offering fresher coconut cookies and chocolate muffins for the journey back.

The long drive back is without hiccups. At Namti an Eurasian Krestel chases a pair of tiny birds into the pines ringing the ‘plains’. The window sills of the shops enroute are now stacked with pineapples and the wizened old lady I had glimpsed earlier with a silver pipe has vacated her chair outside a hut for a younger, cigarettes smoking woman. Men on bikes whiz by sporting traditional waistcoats armed with dahs, a common accessory, sometimes even a rifle. A Mithun now and then lumbers across the road. Tiny goats in an inflated sense of self doze in the middle of the now dry road. The clouds are lifting and the sun warms the wings of giant black butterflies with flashes of blue and red. The Lohit bends one last mountain before leaving for the plains, stretching its arms wide….

Fact File–

Distance- Its approx 363 kms from Dibrugarh to Walong.

Hayuliang to Hawai is 56kms.

Staying- Hayuliang has one odd very run down hotel. It is better to stay at Hawai, the district HQ. It has a Circuit House and an old Inspection Bungalow.

Walong- Has a PWD IB and a few basic homestays.

Tilam about 5 kms ahead of Walong has a Government tourist lodge. It has a hot spring nearby too.

Kaho- The Gaon Burra has a simple homestay with a bedroom and dormitory. Its on a first come first serve basis till now.

Coverage-

The mobile coverage is very patchy ahead of Tidding bridge. There is no mobile coverage ahead of Hayuliang. Infact your phone timing will jump about 2 hours!

Discover-Disconnecting with the World on a Mountain Isle at Shaama

September 25, 2022September 25, 2022

Discovering Digboi’s 3 Must-Dos

The pachyderms with their famed elephantine memory won’t be thanking one of their own anytime soon in Digboi, if the local lore is to be believed. It goes that sometime in the 1860s, out of the steaming jungles at the foothills of the Patkai Mountains emerged an elephant, its leg wet with mud mixed with traces of oil. An observant employee of the Assam Railway and Trading Co pounced on the prospect of black gold. Soon the labourers were being exhorted to ‘dig-boy-dig’…and the rest is history…

Assam is what I call river country. It is also tea country and what a lot of us forget the original oil country. The first mention of oil here was made by army officers and geological surveyors way back in the 1820s. It seemed to seep out and mix in the waters of the Dihing River. Within years of the first oil well being dug in 1859 in the USA and decades before the sheikh’s of the Middle East’s desert discovered their wishing wells, the first oil well was hand dug in Digboi. Making it not only India’s oldest but Asia’s first oil well. Its to this oil town nestled on the fringes and mounds of tropical forests, the traditional elephant corridors now cut off by walls that we headed to.

Read about Rajasthan’s wells in- Harlequin Holi at Todaraisingh

Verdant Valley Burns Bright

Stormy clouds follow on our heels as we drive to Digboi through a flat valley. The wind blows every shade of green around us. The bamboos creak and bend, the paddy fields flatten out and streams ripple as the water is hurried along. The locals here are accused of being laid back. A passing sight paints a complete picture- In front of a neat little thatched hut is a pond with ducks grooming themselves. A small lush paddy field is lined with slender areca nut trees. What more does a man need? A little distance ahead a strange vision appears in a vast field…a fire rages in a brick house with no roof. I doubt any roof would survive that blaze! (On the way back we see a drilling rig parked nearby.)The open fields end as we hit the small town of Digboi, it’s center dominated by the curving high walls of India’s oldest continuously running oil refinery since 1901. A road skirts along and on the other side of the road bumpy hillocks rise, covered in thick foliage.

Digboi’s Date with Destiny

I’m not a museum person but I have encountered the most passionate people in museums. Digboi’s Oil Centenary Museum is no exception. The person incharge walks us through the deserted museum lovingly pointing out each archaic piece of machinery on display. He is clearly an Anglophile. (Only to be beaten by the even more passionate incharge of Margerita’s Coal Museum. As far as he was concerned no progress has been made after the Brits left Margerita…ironically named after an Italian queen!)

Hear another queen story when- A Bard Sings a Story in Jhansi

In the museum’s center, life size figures recreate a throwback scene of towering trees, an elephant and a thatched oil well. Bric-a brac of everyday life, pictures of social life, of momentous events and visits, of Joymala- a giant elephant at work, line the walls. Outside apart from machinery and a filling station scene is the 1^st oil well. The smell of oil faintly permeates the air as it seeps from the ground to make rainbows in the puddles of water. A tall narrow pipe behind the trees nearby spews fire…an oil well I suppose. The legacy continues.

A Course Par Excellence

After overeating a dinner which starts with crisp finger sized fish had whole and ends with melt-in-the-mouth caramel custard (The caretaker nodded his head in approval at the choice of pudding. The not-so-secret Anglophile society rules Digboi!) we need an early morning walk. The sun is blazing down even though it is just 7:30 in the morning. (My clock is set at Mirzapur Standard time! Cannot wake up at 5:30..) We stroll down from our guest room at the Patkai Manor crossing similar gorgeous colonial bungalows to the rolling 18-hole green golf course sandwiched between the forested slopes and the rail terminal.

A 3-dimensional emblem of the Assam Oil Co is doing a mock charge at some lovely lilies in a pond near the entrance. After a cart ride through the undulating fairways where flocks of egrets reluctantly take flight to make way (makes me feel like I’m in a Jurassic Park movie!) we have tea in the huge veranda of the Golf Hut. The clouds over the blue Patkai Mountains in front are dissipating in the heat. A traditional elephant corridor to the mountains has literally hit the wall of the rail terminal in front. For the elephants they are mountains too far…. A tree trunk nearby is stained bright orange with lichens thriving in the mugginess of this place. I’m already wilting….

Discover- A Tale of Two Veiled Valleys: Part I- Shangarh’s Meadows are meant for Musing

Vestiges of War

After breakfast and another round of leisurely tea in the deep wooden veranda, which I loathe to leave, we head to the war cemetery just outside town at the edge of the forest. Adjoining it on a mound is a pagoda styled temple. Many graves have been shifted to this place from nearby towns and in the 1950’s the entire graveyard was relocated from its original hillock location.

The cemetery is a small somber affair laid out in perfect symmetry. A square stone arch at the entrance is the only construction. A giant cross stands at the other end and in between, neatly laid down, are rows of gravestones. They tell short stories of soldiers from across continents and religions. Even unknown ones acknowledged in death. Plants grow beside each stone. The Burma campaign during World War II had seen the Allied Forces fighting against the Japanese and sometimes nature, to prevail. The Stilwell Road constructed during World War II to aid the Chinese starts from Ledo near Digboi and it is said to have cost a man a mile to construct.

Read about people- At the Darwaza of a Road Less Travelled

At Digboi, bountiful nature on the surface and from deep within is on show. But it is also where it is starkly obvious that when nature gives it extracts its pound of flesh too, from man and beast alike.

Fact File–

Getting there-

Mohanbari airport at Dibrugarh is appox 65kms.

Tinsukia at about 36 kms is the nearest major rail junction, although trains from Guwahati come to Digboi too.

Staying-

We stayed at the IOC’s Patkai Manor. There are a few small hotels and guest rooms in and around town.

Timings-

1. Digboi War Cemetery-

Summer- 8:00 am – 5:00 pm

Winter- 8:00 am – 4:00 pm

2. Digboi Centenary Oil Museum –

9:00 am – 4:00 pm. Monday closed.

June 28, 2022July 4, 2022

A Tale of Two Veiled Valleys: Part II- Tucked Away in Tirthan

The adjoining valleys of Sainj and Tirthan, named after the rivers that drain them, are part of the Great Himalayan National Park. From Larji a left will take you up the narrow Sainj valley and a right to the bigger, wider Tirthan valley lined with orchards and dotted with scattered hamlets. Our short stay at Shangarh has proved to be worth the horrendous roads. The day hikes, the meditative meandering and just breathing the deodar scented air has us craving for an encore. While the spoon-shaped Sainj valley is still devoid of masses, Tirthan started gaining traction as an ‘off beat’ location about 5 odd years back but now is firmly on the tourist circuit with homestays galore and resorts lining the river ahead of Banjar. Jibhi has trendy cafes and a hippy vibe and the narrow road to Jalori pass has more traffic than it can handle. But tucked up and away in Tirthan Valley, beyond the bustling crowd is the village of Bihar, our second destination.

Our departure from the FRH at Shangarh is tinged with a slight sour taste when I see the caretaker dump, along with our conversations and his assurances on waste disposal, segregation etal, the garbage into a neighbouring stream. Lesson learnt. There is, in all hill stations, a burgeoning mountain of a problem of waste disposal. On that sobering note we drive off with plans to reach our homestay post lunch at Jibhi. We are spoilt for choice but our menu is on default setting… trout it has to be! The gentle drive is along the shallow Tirthan River. Hema, our host has an amused tone when she calls to ask about our whereabouts. (we are a couple of hours late) Maybe she has visions of having to organize another rescue!(She has had her share of barmy guests!)

Another road to discover passes- At the Darwaza of a Road Less Travelled

Beyond the Bustle at Bihar

From Jibhi we backtrack towards Banjar and then climb up on a deserted road winding through a forest, cross the entrance to the Shringa Rishi temple till we reach the end of the road. Janisha, a slight girl with an angelic face and solemn eyes has tagged along with Hema, her equally petite mom to help carry our luggage (I think she has heard of the furry guest) up the last 100 meters or so to their home- Tirthan Eagle Nest.

Hema and I have been connecting over the phone and here we are finally, after many false starts. Perched on the edge of the village, close to the wired trolley going right up to Myaji point, the stone and wood house is set into the slope. It is a home made with much thought and from our room window I can reach out and touch the grass! After tea we head up the path to the tiny village, past wooden sheds stacked with hay on top and with a place for the cattle below.

A homestay seeped in culture is- Dera Jaipur: A Homestay for Stellar Style and Exceptional Experiences

The houses are huddled around a clean paved square, their wooden balconies at an arm’s length from each other. Two old women gossiping on one of these stop briefly to give us a cursory look, children run around in the square and up ahead young women go about their chores around a communal tap. Young girls, their bags laden with school books are heading back to their homes somewhere on the mountainside. They point the way to Chehni Kothi. We can see the tower in the fading light. But don’t have enough daylight left to reach and be back and I’m not up to trapezing on narrow paths in the dark. Smart move!

Leaning tower of Chehni Kothi

Next morning we discover there is no straight route in the mountains to things in plain sight. We walk through flowering apple orchards and houses with wild rose bushes with paths branching up and down the slopes. We finally hit a dirt track just below Chehni village where an enterprising fellow with a tea stall is now constructing a ‘homestay’ with many rooms. He is going to be ready when the hordes drive up….till then there will be days like today when we have the place to ourselves. Two lost and frightened cows attach themselves, literally, to us, scaring me more. Their pretty owner is chatting with a woman making pattu on a hand loom. The square is deserted save a few boys. A woman with a baby tied to her back, has come to fetch water from the community tap.

The Kath-Kuni styled tower of Chehni Kothi, with its debatable antiquity, lost some of its floors in the 1905 earthquake apparently. Yet it dwarfs everything around including the Krishna temple behind and another smaller tower in front. It leans ever so slightly. The staircase to the balcony way above is carved out of a single log of wood. The makers, like sure-footed mountain goats, gave no thought to lesser mortals needing support or width. But then outsiders are not allowed to climb up. (scraping them off the floor would be messy!) The temple with carved wooden balconies looks like a mansion which has seen better days. It’s entrance is through a wooden platform jutting out of the structure. There is a courtyard inside but we can’t find the inner sanctum.

Must see mansions are to be found in – Part Two- What Not to Miss on a Weekend Vacation in Shekhawati

Be Game to Get Lost

From a makeshift eatery we take packed omelets and walk up to Myaji point. This time we stick to the wide dirt track masquerading as a road. It is lined with apple orchards with wild white and pink lilies growing in the shade. We climb into one to follow two women and their cows across the crest with a small wooden shrine and pond. The white peaks of the inner GHNP form a perfect canvas backdrop.

Lunch is followed by a snooze lolling on the grassy slope of an orchard. Its paradise! We rouse ourselves and reluctantly start back with what we think is enough daytime. From the trolley point we see our homestay below and decide to take a shortcut in the general direction of the village. After a promising start we get royally lost. At one point I have to slide down on my backside a few feet. (As opposed to flying face down) A wrong turn to follow a pipeline (has to go to a tap no?) ends in a thicket. Sense prevails; we backtrack and eventually stumble back on to the track going to Bihar. Sweet relief! Hema has thoughtfully made halwa post dinner knowing I have a fast.

Another adventure was- Tarsar Marsar : Memoirs of an Escapade

River Run

Early next morning we take a walk on an under-construction road through the deodar forest patch near the village. A fallen tree is being chopped up by the village men and they carry the logs on their backs up to the village to stock up for a feast coming up. Cultural rooting is still strong here and family functions and festivals are community affairs.

After a hearty breakfast of delicious Siddu drowned in homemade ghee we venture down the mountain to the river. The valley below is overrun with resorts and homestays. We find a deserted stretch where the river cascades over boulders, shimmies into little quiet pools to catch its breath before rushing off again.

Read another river story – Barot and the Serendipitous Catch in the Uhl River

River birds dart around as we chill our feet and drinks in the icy water. Bliss! Later from a hippy café where we lunch we see the sky turn slate grey behind a rugged golden mountainside. Colourful houses at its base make a striking contrast. A brief shower that follows, brings welcome relief from the unusually high temperatures for spring season but it doesn’t douse out the forest fires on the slopes above. Stephen, our host at the homestay has been telling us of the combustible mix of superstition and greed that leads to these fires.

The evenings here have been spent ambling down the road leading to the village. The dusty haze has settled with the afternoon shower and there is a nip in the air. Now that the last bus has thundered back, the road is deserted. A woman walking home offers a cup of tea and I regretfully decline as I try to chase some birds in the dying light. The golden roof of the Shringa Rishi Temple glints in the last rays.

In a clearing below a wooden shrine sits next to flowering rhododendrons. The mountains are silhouetted against an ombre sky. Then as if a switch has been thrown the lights across the valley come on. The night light show is live! It can be magical when man and nature come together in harmony.

Fact File-

Getting there–

By Road-

a)Take a bus for Manali. Get off at Aut. From Aut there are buses and taxis available for Tirthan.

b) Drive from Chandigarh either through the Shimla or Bilaspur route.

Fly in-

Closest airhead is at Buntar, Kullu

Staying–

We stayed at Hema and Stephen’s home – Tirthan Eagle Nest.

There are resorts, hotels and homestays to suit all budgets.

Conscious travel tips–

Carry your own water bottles.

Eat local produce.

Ask how your hotel/homestay deals with waste.

Carry your plastics back!

May 20, 2022May 23, 2022

A Tale of Two Veiled Valleys: Part I- Shangarh’s Meadows are meant for Musing

‘I hope its worth it’ is more of a prayer than a thought on seeing the man’s tired and slightly irate face. ‘Don’t you bloggers ever write about the roads leading up to those picturesque places?’ He has just asked after being on a patchy mountain road with traffic for more than six hours which included being on dead stop in a traffic jam for an hour. Errr… apparently not! So FYI the road to Manali, and I suspect till Leh, is and will remain for some time a super mess. My morale rises in a bit when we turned off the highway and pass under the entrance gate of the Great Himalayan National Park which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The traffic peters off and the narrow road in mint condition stays that way mostly till Shangarh.

Discover a Tourmaline road in- Chushul – Chumathang – Hello Indus & Iridescent Colours!

We pass a serene lake made by the dam at the confluence of Beas and Sainj, the mountainside disappearing into its depths . Crossing the Sainj River at Larji and hugging the mountainside we make our way up the narrow valley with air scented by pine trees, wild rose bushes and traditional wooden houses clinging to the steep slopes. Reaching the Shangarh Forest Rest House (FRH) perched up and at the end of a kilometer of dirt track with tight turns is the last discordant note in the road medley of the day. Some communication gap and lots of delegation ensures that there is no dinner as spoken about in the morning at the FRH. Fortunately an overstocked food basket with us ensures we are certainly not going to go hungry tonight… or for many nights to come! Nothing like bread, cheese and wine on a bracingly cold evening!

Read about a different palate in- Satiating Nostalgia Under the Winter Rain at Junia

So Shangarh is like an amphitheatre with terraced orchards and fields dotted with houses and the FRH is placed on the highest tier. Morning sees us sipping tea and soaking in the sights from this vantage point. The apple trees are in bloom all around and birds are flitting about. The valley lies blanketed before us in what we think is morning mist but the caretaker tells us that there is a forest fire burning on the slope across. He then points out the ancient Manu Rishi temple on a sliver of an outcrop at the edge of Shanshar village across the valley. It’s 5 tiered roof catches the sun. The temple is dedicated to the fabled progenitor of the human race who gave us the Manu Smriti- the original book of laws. Snow-clad peaks in the distance make a perfect backdrop.

A temple like no other is in- Mystic Maheshwar : At the Center of the Universe

God’s Own Meadow

Later we follow him through the old wooden houses so typical of this area and new ones coming up as homestays to cater for the expected surge of tourists. We cross fields of flowering mustard, with cows and sheep grazing on grass made green by small waterfalls. Following an old woman and her herd we walk into the meadow and its unlike anything I have seen. Pristine undulating grassland ringed by mighty deodars… devoid of people almost! The breeze through the trees whispers stories of the Pandavas coming here, clearing this place of all stones save one pillar-like which juts out at an angle demarcating land meant for man and beast. The ownership of the meadow still resides with the Gods.

Discover a dying tribe of nomads in- At the Darwaza of a Road Less Travelled

We sit on the slope and behind us is another stone, covered with a metal roof, lined with cylindrical wooden trellis which play out a clickety-clack every time the breeze teases them. We reluctantly rouse ourselves to explore the meadow after basking in the warming sun and just being. The temple in the meadow is all wood and slate and the inner sanctum is surrounded by a pillared veranda. The carvings depict among other gods the 10 avatars of Vishnu. One bears a strong resemblance to Buddha?! Nearby a grove of deodars is fenced off exclusively as the abode of Gods. Trespassers will bear divine consequences. Now who would chance that!

The shiny new roof of the Shungchul Mahadev temple made in typical Kathkuni style beacons. We approach the towering temple from the back as it sits tightly hemmed in by houses and fields ringed with fruiting trees and gape as we turn to the front. Its made of stone and wood, its wooden facade all carved, rising about three storey’s high with two wooden balconies. The original structure burnt down about seven years back but a replica has been resurrected . The only thing that survived from the original temple was the palanquin…and it is much needed!

Discover the temples of- Part Two -The Old Gold in Outstanding Orchha

The evening goes in a stroll near the FRH crossing gushing streams, apple orchards surrounded by deodar trees , small cottages and camps catering to the young tourists. The breeze has made the forest fire pick up pace and its a blazing scar zig-zaging its way down the entire face of the mountain in front.

Of Sacred Groves and Meadow Musings

Next morning with packed buns, boiled eggs and a thermos of coffee we follow a young local guide as he leads us up to Jangaon (Ganjau) Thach. It is about half way to the famous Thini Thach which is like a pilgrimage for the locals. Thach is a meadow in local parlance. The initial climb is through a deep deodar forest but the sounds of drums far below rise up clearly. The Gods are making their way back to the temple from a nearby village where they had been invited for some function. Here the deities are extremely social, visiting each other and men alike and a whole procession accompanies their palanquin. The forest is hardly silent too. Birds are chirping everywhere but as any bird watcher will tell you- size and volume is inversely proportional. Its maddening to hear but not be able spot! We make our way through small clearings, cross a rich man’s vast estate and the forest department’s nursery where, enclosed by a low stone wall, a wooden shed gives company to a flowering tree.

Explore the meadows of Kashmir in- Tarsar Marsar : A Trekker’s Take

We cross carpets of iris yet to bloom and streams, one with an arched wooden bridge right next to a small yet cascading waterfall. The crystal clear water runs off in a hurry. Just short of the Thach we come to a sacred grove. It’s a flat piece of boggy land with a variety of trees and a loopy stream. A wooden hut stands at the edge and under a tree tied with bright pieces of cloth is a trident and an assortment of metal offerings to the forest goddess including cups, plates and maybe some cutlery too. (Under another tree I spotted a battered extension cord and a wheel hub. What the Goddess needs this for, only she knows!) There is something mysterious yet magical here.

I reluctantly do the short climb to the Thach. The forest fire’s smoke is a shroud over the valley. The hazy sky, a pale version of its usual hue of blue. The snow-clad peaks around are barely visible and the cold air has a faint feeling of despondency. A lone walnut tree in the middle of the undulating grassy meadow has sprung out of and split a massive boulder into two. It tries valiantly to provide some colour with sparse red remnants of winter foliage on its branches. Tiny flowers here and there join the tree in its effort. We munch and muse over the subdued beauty of this meadow.

Since my toes are slightly done walking downhill we stick to a level ramble in the evening. Its our last night here and the temptation to use the room’s fireplace is too great to pass on and so canned baked beans and ready-to-eat pasta is our fare by the dying embers of a mellow fire. Richard Parker, the cat, on this road trip with us does not share our enthusiasm for the fire and I think of all the animals on the burning mountainside across.

Shangarh is a slice of secluded serenity meant for just being. I truly hope it stays that way.

Fact File–

Getting there:

By Road- The road from Mandi onwards is nothing more than a dirt track in patches due to of the widening work so avoid unless a)Its not your car, b) You don’t much care for your car, c)Its meant for off-roading.

By Air- The Buntar airport at Kullu is about 51 kms.

Staying:

The FRH at Shangarh can be booked online on the GHNP website.

We stayed at the FRH at Shangarh. It is clean but basic. The caretaker rustles up tea and simple fare, a bit reluctantly.

There is a Zostel, a few small homestays and tented camps.

Conscious Travelling:

Shangarh and other places in the Sainj valley are little more than overgrown hamlets. They have no system of garbage collection/disposal. Check with your hosts how they manage their waste. It will encourage proper disposal. Till then we visitors need to minimize what disposables we carry and if possible carry our non-biodegradables back!

Coming up next- A Tale of Veiled Valleys: Part II- Bihar!