CurioCity

February 7, 2015 by sudapoedia47

On a dull working day I decide to junk the housework in search of art & pleasure. Here I am at Jogeshwari, in the centre of a road, facing row upon row of antique furniture & curio shops. It is a veritable treasure trove. The auto rick brought me spot on. No parking woes either.

Hayat Ali, with long flowing henna dyed beard, mans shop No:???? He refuses to be photographed as his religion forbids it or so he believes. The first buy is a Japanese teapot in a cheery floral design. A wee bit of haggling & the deed is done. It makes me happy & joyful. Beauty invariably does.

An interesting day it turns out, scouring shops selling everything from antique furniture to curios, lamps, books, coins, stamps, miniatures, paintings, film posters & framed photographs. A frame minus the photograph goes for less than one with a period picture. This is Mumbai. Everything has a price & everything sells. Even empty perfume bottles. I bought one in the shape of a dolphin. And don’t ask me why. There are bargains to be had. Of commonplace household items & freebies if one is lucky. Much like the ‘buy one get one’ scheme at Malls.

A role reversal happens at times, when the seller suddenly & surreptitiously becomes the buyer. “ You have Rolex watch? I give good price,” whispers Hayat

“You have Asharfi? You know Asharfi / Guinea/ gold coin?”

Folding Deck Chair

Antique Camphor Box

Silver, embossed Soporo.

Artefacts include an old time Pressure Cooker

Artifacts. Pressure Cooker (hanging)

Life size chestnut coloured wooden horse

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Objets d’ art evoking refinement & grace occupy every inch of empty space. However mediocre their lives it must be said that these shopkeepers have a keen eye for the beautiful. Amidst porcelain vases, sculptures & Chinese curios picked up from rich Parsi homes ( from the days of the opium trade) lie everyday household items such as a grater from grandma’s kitchen – made of brass & shaped like a tortoise – Also a pressure cooker, perhaps the first of its kind, polished, sparkling and new.

My prized bargain that day was a ‘Soporo’, a cone shaped artifact with a tiny bird at the pinnacle. It is used in Parsi ritual. This one is in silver & has an embossed Persian design. There is an inscription at the base, a date along with the name of the silversmith, the makers Rustomjee Jahangir. It also, has a name – SN Soonawala – Its last owner I presume.

It is a sad feeling

What could have compelled Mr Soonawala to part with precious family silver? It could not have been penury I am sure. Had he fallen on bad days? Was he emigrating to a far away land? Or could he have died childless? The possibilities were immense.

In any case the shops were all chock – a – block, full of artistic souvenirs from stately affluent homes. And each had a story, a tale to tell.

Exhausted from walking & talking, the heat & the dust I looked around for a café in an area where there was none. A shop owner offered to find me a drink. What would I have?

A Coke preferably or Pepsi. Any Cola

That would be difficult

Why?

Unofficial ban. American company. Nobody buys or sells it here.

‘Minute Maid’ pulpy orange then

That too. Same company. Have a Thumbs Up’ instead. Easily available

A ‘Thumbs Up’? Uggh!

Talakaveri Coorg

December 12, 2014 by sudapoedia47

Nov16-20, 2014

A tiny less explored corner – that is forever – Coorg (64 Sq Miles).

It is, in a nutshell, coffee & spice & all things nice.

Evening mists. Beautiful women. Warriors.

Hanging Lamp – Coorg

Otti Roti/Rice Bread

Todays Menu

Nimmi’s Open Kitchen

The much touted KSRTC, the State run bus service turns out to be a let down so I go cross country, taking any old bus from Bangalore to Mysore, then onwards by taxi. A blessing in disguise for it offers the opportunity of enjoying the countryside at will.

The ‘Elephant Corridor’ at Badaga is a 20 acre estate & the Chengappas, Nimmi & Viju perfect hosts. You are cautioned against early morning walks as elephants graze & roam the wilds & can often be heard crunching grass. Yes, quite literally for all around us is the sound of silence. Pachyderm encounters are not uncommon & could be counted among the many joys of life in Coorg.

‘Homestay’ is an organized sector here. There are 200 registered owners who act with rare passion often going the extra mile in their eagerness to showcase all things Kodagu. Hence no surprise that Viju offers to organize transport & keep a track as I commute from Mysore to Badaga via (at his suggestion) the Tibetan enclave & Golden temple at Byeluppe.

The couple are college day sweethearts. That their hearts continue to beat in unison after 35 years of marriage & 2 children is there for all to see. Parked next to their car in the porch, is a Royal Enfield ‘Bullet’ – the one that was used during their courtship & wooing days. Large sums are being proffered for it today but it continues to stand there – mechanical testimony to a Mills & Boon romance.

Nimmi a Srilankan is the epitome of everything Coorg – from language to cuisine to good looking but the banana jam is hers & hers alone. It goes exceedingly well with the local Dosa – Idli. A desi version of pancake with maple sauce if you will, but far more tasty. ‘The Elephant Corridor’, which has been a homestay for over 10 years, looks to becoming a wedding & pre nuptial destination, as also a location for Bollywood flicks. ‘Coffee Beans’ was filmed here.

Mercara or Madikeri (3500’) as it is now called is the district headquarters. The entire area that was once a rain forest may be termed ‘semi’ rain forest today as large tracts have been cleared for plantations of rubber, coffee, spice & orange. Acre upon acre of cultivated land interspersed with surviving rain forest vegetation – trees so tall that they seem to be reaching for the skies. Large & small homesteads with red brick tiled sloping roofs dot the countryside at regular if distant intervals. There is hardly a soul around. And silence so deep – except for the occasional bus rumbling by – it is picture perfect

The river Cauvery has long been to the south what the Ganga is to the north. A disputed river perhaps but also the holiest of holies, especially at its source – Talakaveri,

Pilgrims climb the Brahmagiri hill near by for a Coorg view. Also to leave behind make belief houses. Little stone clusters that symbolize their hope of future housing.

After springing forth at Talakaveri, the river vanishes underground. Suddenly & completely before re emerging 8 kms away at Bhagamandala,. Here it meets the waters of the Kanikke & the mythical Sujyoti to become ‘triveni sangam’, a site of pilgrimage.

Breakfast at the gazebo and a Coorg style sit down meal with friends & extended family. Otti Roti, Pandi curry, Kumbala curry – the works

That coupled with the quiet of the countryside is what I shall carry long after.

Talakaveri

Bhagamandala

Cavery waters at Abbi falls

Tombs – Gaddige

The tree of life – Elephant Corridor

Thottapallay

December 5, 2014 by sudapoedia47

Thottapallay Kerala: August16,2014

Kala’s coffee service

Off NH 47, 22 kms from Aleppy, towards Quilon & Kottayam is a charming little hamlet where all the colors & shades of the rainbow contribute to the building of homes & cottages. Giant – pink, blue, green, yellow, purple – garish mansions along side simple thatched huts line the waterfront of Kerala’s legendary backwaters. Almost every family has a working member in the Gulf, hence the glow of technicolor in cash.

I am with Kala & her sister at Omkaram, one of the many homestays that dot the lush green countryside. At Rs 1500 a night one has the luxury of a large sea facing room with a terrace – no less. It is clean & airy & has marble floors & state of the art fittings. Kala’s prawn curry/ rice combo is to die for. As is the Egg roast, a local specialty. And strong freshly brewed coffee to round it off.

This is essentially a fishing village from where a variety of ‘catch’ is exported. Laze around as you will. Cycle the broad traffic less roads. Join in a game of soccer on the beach. Watch the sun rise or set. Enjoy the cool sea breeze with a morning / evening cuppa to the strains of classical ragas. A sundowner even. (Kerala Govt I hear is contemplating harakiri with plans for complete state wide prohibition)

Complementing the cool & the laid back ,Thottapallay boasts an old British era culvert of indeterminate vintage. It continues in use, the busy ‘Spillover’ bridge that spans the dark inviting waters swarming with catamarans. Take a walk to the other side . It is equally charming

The Spillover bridge

On the culvert

Fisherman’s cove

The Spillover

Ouch, I can’t stand still

October 10, 2014 by sudapoedia47

I once chanced upon a post where the blogger had taken a 2 month trip travelling halfway across the globe in the clothes that he was wearing. Except for an extra undergarment his rucksack contained money & documents, phone, music, camera, medicine & basic toiletries. His self imposed rule was neither to borrow nor buy clothes along the way. That was also his challenge

I threw in the gauntlet – with amends. Well, he was a guy & I was not. He was a kid & I was not. I would permit myself the luxury of 2 extra sets of clothing beside what I was wearing. Everything else would be ditto, for a fortnight of travel to an equatorial country first, then onwards to a tropical one. The rule was to look presentable at all times. And that was my challenge.

Friends laughed it away. ‘Not possible’, said they. The American may have done it but no Indian can ever travel this way.

( I had a bright colourful stole that doubled up as sarong /scarf/bedsheet/ tank top/ what have you. It was my single most important piece of clothing.)

So here were my 2 rucksacks, which I carried as hand baggage, weighing less than 6 Kg in toto. Simply loved the idea as did the airline that looked on benignly.

There is a certain thrill in the unknown. Of landing & walking on distant shores. A whole new world opens up for you to embrace & to explore. Even for a first time solo traveler nothing is intimidating. Look at the myriad faces, rootless souls all making their way to the same backpacker den or thereabouts, a place that is almost always walking distance from the sights & sounds of town. The butterfly in the stomach occasionally flutters but that is mostly during pre take off stage when travel plans are being fueled & ignited. One shrugs off that feeling with what the heck. Can’t let it happen. There is the added realization that it could well mean the beginning of the end of any future solo travel plans. The remedy is to have Dutch courage. Muster up plenty of it.

Could I ever forget the first time I ventured forth alone?

I look back now and wonder at the sheer audacity of it. Did I actually embark on a voyage to 5 different countries with nothing but school geography as guide? A walking atlas inside the head assisted by such all time legends as The Lonely Planet & Lets Go. Backpacker Bibles both. Those were the days – pre internet days – when ignorance was bliss. To have traveled like that sans credit card or insurance & to be none the wiser. O, the horror of it all!

Budget travel has evolved & backpacker joints have metamorphosed over time. Place to place people appear to interact less & less. It has a lot to do with Wi-Fi, mobiles, tablets & laptops. The result being each person immersed in his own. The old bonhomie hasn’t completely disappeared but the long friendly chats over breakfast or travel tales at the end of day are passé.

Miss you Gary of bread & jam fame – 75 Damareus Street Athens, 1997. A true backpacker young Gary traveled the earth in search of a wife. Bread & jam was his staple & he moved from hostel to hostel as he disliked the idea of spending each night under the same one roof.

Cafes & Bars continue to beckon, entice, entertain & enthrall. They add to the experience. Nothing quite like the local & traditional – food, drink, people – to round off the plot.

At the ‘Geographers Cafe’, Malacca, over a pot of Cameron Highland tea & scones I watch life go by on busy Jonker street. There are crowds, music, banter & laughter

And an entry password to the golden Loo

“Eh Eh, tri tri “ pipes the attendant

Excuse me!

“Eh Eh Tree Tree’’ he repeats

Once

Twice

Thrice

Oh 8833 ?

(Turns out to be a squat toilet in the end. But who cares when it is for free.)

As everyone knows the only way to explore a place is to do it on foot. Just walk, walk, walk. And if you meet a lost kindred spirit from a far away land take time to talk, talk & talk.

Smile. Walk. Talk. Walk the talk. Three simple golden rules.

Remember conversation never did kill anyone. And not everyone is Jack the Ripper.

Here’s to Kody Kids

August 27, 2014 by sudapoedia47

The Himalayas we know are magnificent. What one didn’t know or imagine was the immensity & panoramic sweep of the ghats. Until I got there that is.

Kodi was a delightful surprise.

At 6998’ in the Palani hills – the southern most section of the Western Ghats- it was green & serene despite not having had rain in the last three years. (It normally has 2 monsoons)

It is July end & all the waterfalls are dry. Be it Silver Cascade, Bear Shola or Pambar of Liril advt fame. It was here that Karen Lunel had frolicked nymph like. The waterfall, now reduced to trickles of sludge & grime.

Rain or no rain gardens are in full bloom & the day pleasant & cool with evening temperatures going down 12 – 15 C. Mist clouds the sky then melts down the mountainside. There is sometimes, what passes for a drizzle. A faint drizzle.

Kodaikanal is a 5 hour drive from Coimbatore. Giant windmills dot the flat, windy & dusty countryside. The hill section of the road starts only at Palani 60 kms short of Kodi. It is a steep treacherous climb with several hairpin bends & turns that set the stomach churning.

1008 steps lead to the Murugan Karthikey temple at Palani. There is a cable car facility & the rare Kurunji tree that blossoms every 12 years. The next flowering expected in 2018.

We are booked at the Kodaikanal club (Estd 1887) bang on Seven roads junction, beside the lake & in the heart of town. What seems like the height of the unexpected is a working fireplace inside the bedroom, a box of matches & dry wood stacked in a corner. What’s more there is even an attendant to – start the fire. Steaming hot chocolate serves as nightcap. The linen is crested & it smells of lavender. Everything around appears to have either a monogram or crest. Even the tissue paper. The entire town an epitome of ‘colonial’ at its best

Kodi kids are everywhere, especially on a Sunday. These are children from Kodaikanal International School. They actually are known as Kodi kids. No brats these, unlike what have you …….but a global conglomerate, here to have an education.

Besides a stunning campus of architecture in stone & landscaped gardens the school boasts a charming little chapel, a local attraction within its precincts.

What is your idea of a great holiday? Mine simply is doing nothing worthwhile. Like sleeping, eating, reading, walking & taking in the scene. All worth the while.

Locals from surrounding villages bring in their ware for Sumthal – the daylong Sunday market. This includes a produce of exotic fruit, flower & vegetable. Shops are laden with spices, herbs, oils & home made chocolate & there is ‘Cloud Street’ for the best wood oven pizzas. It has free Wi-Fi too. Or try the Pot Luck café.

There is Bryants Park with 325 specie of plant & shrub & an 1857 Bodhi tree. A 5 km walk skirts the lake & there are cycles to be hired. The best walk is at Coakers where one walks on one side of the mountains’ edge in a valley, facing the opposite hill with a gorge in between.

Mansions of the rich & famous enliven the surroundings. Everyone from Mani Ratnam to Alagiri Scam of 3G fame is there. Black money also needs a home. No?

In the end as always, it is the people that make the place. So shall Kodi be remembered. For all the wonderful people. Foremost being the entrepreneur philanthropist Mr. Mani or Cheez Mani as he is popularly known for his cheese making skills.

Dagshai Jail Museum

May 12, 2014 by sudapoedia47

Dagshai Jail Museum

A British era jail used as a dump yard post independence, was converted into a museum in 2011. It is also unique in that it is only the second of its kind in India, the first being the Cellular jail in the Andamans

Dagshai jail, set up in 1849 has played host to several shades of soldier convicts. Gorkha soldiers of the Nasiri Regt (1857), revolutionaries from the ship ‘Komagatamaru’ (1914), 12 Indian soldier – sympathizers of the Ghadar movement (1915) & Irish Catholic soldiers of the ‘Connaught Rangers ‘who mutinied against their British officers (1920).

James Daly the best known of them all was executed here.

When Mahatma Gandhi visited Dagshai to meet with Irish mutineers he had stayed in a cell inside the jail. Legend has it that his assassin Nathuram Godse too was briefly incarcerated here before being taken for trial to the High Court in Simla.

prototype of the bust

Distinguished Alumni
In progress art work.
APS Dagshai

The museum is the brainchild of its curator Dr. Anand Sethi, a local resident who researched & contributed most of the exhibits including archival photographs from his private collection. A prized display is a pair of bellows that were used by iron smiths to make chains and handcuffs. Its museum value 50,000 pounds today. More material continues to be sourced from Ireland, UK & Nepal.

Dr Sethis’ initiative fortunately, was complemented by the vision & foresight of the then Brigade commander Brig Ananth Narayanan. The army has since been closely involved with the project

Dr & Mrs Sethi

On a clear bright day we stroll through the two sections of the museum, the Dagshai Jail which contains 54 maximum-security prison cells and an exhibit area that displays archival photographs of the jail and around.

Most of the cells do not have sufficient ventilation or natural light. There is only one VIP cell with the luxury of a fireplace and washroom. This is where the Mahatma had stayed when he came to commiserate with Irish prisoners with whom he felt a especial empathy & bond. Strange as it may sound Ireland & India had much in common, most important being their struggle for freedom against the same colonial master. Making common cause was a subtle political message sent out to the powers that were.

The exhibit area showcases the history of the region. There are photographs of soldiers, forgotten heroes and of the writer Rudyard Kipling, who wrote ‘Plain Tales From the Hills’ here.

APS Dagshai Udais’Bust 29.04.2014

The newest addition is the picture – citations of late Maj Udai Singh SC, SM, first battalion the Parachute Regt. Udai had spent the formative years of his life as a student of APS (1988 – 1992), the school a stones throw away from the museum.

Today his Bust adorns the main school square & the children have permission to walk to the museum as often as they like.

That being the Principals’ order.

*The museum is located at Dagshai cantonment, less than 2 kms from Dharampur on NH 22 going towards Simla. It is closed on Mondays & opens Tuesday – Sunday 09.30 – 12.30 & 14.30 – 17.30

Red Earth

January 30, 2014 by sudapoedia47

You will be attracted if the blurbs read: “Only hill station in India – No traffic”

I had to check this out for myself.

At 2500’ in the Sahyadris, Matheran – literally ‘forest on the top’ – is 110 kms from Mumbai. You could reach it by rail or road but all vehicular traffic must halt at Dasturi. Pay an entry fee here before going ahead by shuttle, on horseback, Ghora Gaadi or foot.

(A shared taxi from Neral the nearest railhead to Dasturi takes 25 minutes / Rs 70 per passenger

The 2 hour ride on the narrow gauge track from Neral to Matheran is not, at any cost to be missed. The engine huffs & hoots at every scenic bend & turn, cheered on by monkeys snatching at food while, a lone guard flags the way.

Train timings vary according to season with services shutting down altogether during the monsoon. There is a general bogie with 124 seats/ Rs 65 & 2 first class bogies (6 seaters each/ Rs 265)

Matheran is a sleepy town where one wakes up to the sound of hoofs on red sand & stone paths. It is essentially a place for quiet walks & hikes. Of solitude, golden sunrise & purple sunset. Any wonder that it attracts so many honeymooners. Snatches of old Hindi film songs fill the air – “begaani shaadi mein Abdullah deewaana…..” Even this is soft & mindful. Not blaring. Like the place with its pretty colonial cottages. Shops open early & shut late. Most sell forest honey, chikki & leather goods.

But

( with due apologies )

There is nowhere to go

When the sun goes down

In this one horse town.

I go a lookin’

No restaurant,

pub or bar to be found.

In this mean ole town!

Lords hotel, owned by a charming Parsi family has an old world aura & ambience. The food here is good but it is for in – house guests alone. The best view of tabletop Matheran is also from here.

Walking to Charlotte Lake I suddenly hear a strange unfamiliar sound & turn around to see a car. Whatever happened to the ‘no traffic’ rule? I accost the driver in my best aam aadmi style & am relieved to find it is an ambulance – the only one here – not some Bloated Ego bending the law.

Be Aware It is one among many of those suddenly multiplying places that have an unwritten code against accommodation to Singles

However, as every well heeled traveller learns _ there is always a way.

The land of Kuru

December 8, 2013 by sudapoedia47

Bronze – Krishna & Arjuna on the chariot ( 60’ long/ 35’ high) Along the banks of Brahma Sarovar

Bhadrakali temple – one of the 51 shaktipithas. Horses made of clay are traditionally offered here.

Brahma Sarovar

Ladies bathing area on the ghats

“Where next?”

“ To Kurushetra”

Eyebrows go up quizzically.

I must confess to having some preconceived notions myself. Eventually reduced to pulp as it turns out.

Past NH1 & less than 4 hours from the national capital, Kurushetra comprises an area covering 48 Kos, one Kos roughly equivalent to a mile & a half.

Myths & legends associated with the place go back several centuries BC. Not only is it a revered Hindu site, it was visited by all the Gurus of Sikhism & by the Buddha himself, giving it rare religious credence. Sufis & Mystics followed, congregating at the ghats on the day of the solar eclipse – to practice & to preach.

Despite this combination of history, legend & myth the one lasting impression is of a town firmly rooted in the present. Albeit quietly on the move

Witness the broad roads, residential areas segmented into sectors, the spectacular campus of Kurushetra University, the museum & the Planetarium where school children flock in droves.

The Krishna museum showcasing the past has more than a thousand footfalls a day, as do the Ghats of the Sarovar. It is believed that the mythical Saraswati once flowed through this land. Geographical changes dried up the river turning it to slush before the water from the Bhakra Nangal was brought in to replenish & restore.

A case of past meets present. And all for the good.

Kurushetra is above all an aspirational town with a feel good factor. Pilgrims, striving for moksha continue to visit in hordes but many more come to avail ample educational opportunities in pursuit of a better material life.

The inspiration clearly is Kalpana Chawla.

Not Bhishma Pitamah lying on a bed of arrows (museum).

Highway Eatery

Brahma Sarovar

Top of the world

October 8, 2013 by sudapoedia47

Gangtok is a mere 124 kms from Siliguri, from NJP & from Bagdogra but the trip by road takes roughly 5 – 6 hours. Not only because of difficult hilly terrain but dilapidated road conditions.

The alternative, by chopper covers the distance in less than 25 minutes.

The Bell helicopter operated by Pawan Hans is a 5 seater that takes off from Bagdogra (weather permitting) thrice every day.

(Bagdogra is a military airport. A couple of international flights operate from here.)

For the return flight from Burtuk helipad, the fare is Rs 2700 – on board baggage strictly according to specification, which is a smaller than 22”suitcase weighing less than 10 kg.

Capt. Sardul Singh, our pilot flew us at heights of 5000’ – 6000’ over flat plains, low hills, valleys & lush green countryside interspersed with villages. The meandering Teesta in the valley below us a veritable delight.

From Burtuk the chopper can be further requisitioned for a 15 minute joyride over Gangtok & around. At Rs 9500 this offers breathtaking glimpses of the eastern Himalayan range – especially Kanchenjunga (if one is lucky & the day clear)

River Teesta. Aerial view

Perched at 5500’ Gangtok has ample charms, its rare & beautiful orchids not the least. Locals however rue the way it is regressing mainly because of a large tourist influx & poor infrastructure.

I liked Gangtok.

Among other things it is plastic free. One can stroll the promenade, eat the best Chinese ever & get a super duper hairstyle all for a throw.

I did not stay here though but at Mile 5 at 8000 ft. where the air was clean & noise pollution zero. There was even an 18 hole golf course & golf hut to boot.

Mile 5 East Sikkim

MG Road Gangtok

The trip to Nathu La the Indo Chinese border post got cancelled several times on account of inclement weather. I bide my time, my patience finally rewarded with clear skies when I can make the trip without hazard.

From Mile 5 at 8000’ to Changu lake at 12500’, to Sherrathang, Kupup 13500’ & finally Nathu La 14400’.

5 am June 6, 2013 At first an antacid, then a hot cup of green tea & biscuits & I am ready. The road is torturous, pot holed & slithery with debris strewn all over. And there are umpteen roadblocks caused by landslides but these are quickly cleared. Can this possibly be our border road? Not much change I notice since my previous visit nearly 30 years before. And why allow so many tourists every day?

The Chinese have state of the art infrastructure across.

Now this is harakiri.

Past Mile 17 & on to Changu with a halt for breakfast that consists of tea, coffee, Alu paratha, pickle & curd. Everything tastes absolutely divine at such heights.

A line of 10 Chinese trucks is seen approaching the recently opened trading post at Sherrathang. All laden with goods I presume.

The drive up is scenic with mountain springs & waterfalls from melting glaciers. Short bridges decorated with prayer flags span fast flowing streams. There are at least 3 big lakes enroute.

Also the wind chill factor, hence despite the sun it is bitterly cold. Thank God for the woolens.

Changu Lake @ 12500′

Baba Harbhajan temple at Kupup is a big draw. It is thronging with visitors come to pay homage to the soldier saint who guards the frontier – so it is said – even in death. The mandir for me is a disappointment. I would have preferred something military, simple, dignified & proud of bearing

Baba Harbhajan temple Kupup 13500′

And so to top of the world, Nathu La where it is 3 degrees F in May. The one big change I notice (besides better buildings / ongoing construction) is the open camaraderie between the Chinese & Indians. Raw recruits laughing & chatting – in what language I’d love to know.

What hasn’t changed however & never will is the warm hospitality of the Indian army. One experiences it at different locations again & again. Cheerful smiles, handshakes, hot tea & roasted nuts. Everyone ready for a photograph. Memories are made of this

Nathu La Post

Mawlynnong

September 30, 2013 by sudapoedia47

Living Root Bridge @ Ravai

What started as a promising day began to sour.

First, the spell binding drive to Mawlynnong, a brief stop over at Ravai, a trek to the ‘living root’ bridge – munching pineapple all along the way.

Then an accommodation fiasco of the worst kind.

Swapping tales with young back packers that night I narrated how a village homestay had been arranged & how I had been duped by a certain Henry who turned out to be a tout. One meets his kind everywhere.

The room was practically a hole in the wall & the afternoon heat coupled with an empty stomach had added to my woes, resulting in frayed & over wrought nerves.

But things have a way of working out. Always.

I ran into Smiti Majaw, a tourism official who had come to meet the village Headman. She was appalled at the treatment meted out to an ‘honored guest’. Who was this Henry? Not only was it shocking & painful, it was totally alien to Khasi culture. Both of them apologized & proceeded to make amends by offering alternate accommodation, which turned out to be a choice between a modern cottage & a Khasi hut in the woods. I chose the latter. It looked wistfully romantic & was a stones throw from both the restaurant & Skywalk. The latter offering a grand view of the plains of Bangladesh in the distance.

Khasi Hut

Bangladesh

Bamboo Sky Walk

Mr Rishot the owner insisted that I was not to pay a single penny. I could stay as long as I liked without charge for either accommodation or food. I protested. But he was insistent. His Khasi pride injured too.

My 3 young friends had a hearty laugh.

On reaching Mawlynnong they had gone knocking on doors in search of a cheap place to stay. One family took them in offering just enough leg room to stretch out for the night. The family was large & space scarce. Except for the eldest, a college going boy none of the others spoke either English or Hindi yet, they stayed up late into the night & talked – their son the interpreter.

Early next morning everyone walked down to the river to wash & freshen up. When it was time to leave the visitors offered Rs 500 considering it an appropriate sum for their stay.

“ But the old woman – hands solidly behind her – stepped back & declined. After a little charade in impossible sign language she accepted the money, counted the notes & returned 200.”

With a population of 501 Mawlynnong encompasses a large area. It is also fairly prosperous. Practically every family own a nicely cultivated patch of green. There are fields & forests & plantations of bay leaf, areca & pepper. Also giant Grapefruit & Jackfruit trees.

The main guesthouse that was blown away during the cyclone is under renovation, as is the church near the village square.

Churches of every denomination abound & the church plays a vital role in the life of the village. It is beautiful waking up to the chiming of church bells on a lazy Sunday morning. The bells continue to ring at regular intervals through out the day. There are 3 church services. At 7am, 12 noon & at 2 in the after noon. Do not ever come here on a Sunday if it is to be a day trip only. Sunday is strictly a day of rest when nothing stirs. Forget about food you may not even find a cup of tea anywhere. Coffee, in any case is out of the question. Mawlynnong, for some reason has not been introduced to the pleasures of the coffee bean.

I walked the forlorn streets early one Sunday morning. Clear blue skies. Fresh unpolluted air. Clean surroundings. Not a soul around. Complete silence.

“ Dear God the very earth seemed asleep”

A word about Mr Rishot. Bachelor, man of few words, a gentleman, if ever there was one. Schoolteacher by profession he is idealistic & unworldly. Someone who does not even operate his own bank account because he trusts the person who does it for him. The account, in any case a superfluous necessity that must be retained because of the incoming school salary.

He is also the owner of an eating place & guesthouse that offer rest, warmth & friendly service. His contribution I’d say to making his village a more livable place.

And Rishot, to me epitomizes Mawlynnong. As much as the fireflies that lighted up the forest & glowed in the night sky.

Mr Rishot

Down to the River

The Launder’ette

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CurioCity

Talakaveri Coorg

Thottapallay

Ouch, I can’t stand still

Here’s to Kody Kids

Dagshai Jail Museum

Red Earth

The land of Kuru

Top of the world

Mawlynnong