(… continued from In Tezpur, the City of Love)

The next thing we saw in Tezpur was the Harjara Pukhuri (tank). It is believed to have been constructed by King Harjjar Varma of the Salstambha dynasty in the 9th century. There are a few rock inscriptions belonging to that era, too.
Another tank located in the heart of the city is the Padum Pukhuri or the ‘lotus pond’. Interestingly, there wasn’t a single lotus in the pond when we saw it, although locals say it used to be covered with the exotic plant once upon a time.
Neelam wanted to see the famous Mahabhairav Temple, so we went there. It is an ancient temple, which was originally built of stone. Legend has it that King Bana had constructed it. It got its present structure during the Ahom period. Today, it is owned and managed by the government and the Deputy Commissioner directly supervises affairs of the temple. It is particularly known for the grand celebration of Shivratri every year. And although she is a Sikh, Neelam is a follower of Lord Shiva. She has her own reasons though.
She says Lord Shiva is a very ‘manly’ God and very likeable. Not her fault really. When we were young, she used to watch the series Om Namah Shivay on Doordarshan, where the manly Samar Jai Singh had played Lord Shiva. But anyhow, I know it for sure that none can beat my wife’s logic! She even surprised me by wearing the shalwar kameez to the temple.
Our next destination was the temple town of Biswanath Chariali. Actually, it is also my nanihaal (maternal home), and my mother’s family is the custodian of all temples in the town.
We were received in a grand manner there as it was my first visit after marriage. With her pleasant experience in Tezpur, Neelam was much more at ease here. Besides, she knew that I have fond memories of this place since I would come here often in my childhood. Back then, things were much simpler and life was so carefree. City life complicates things.
I showed Neelam around the big courtyard of the house and told her stories of my childhood. I also took her to the place where once there was a huge orchard, but after the death of an uncle and my grandpa, it died out of lack of maintenance. I took her to another field where once upon a time, I used to reap the potato harvest with my grandpa and uncle. I showed her the huge rooms of the haveli-like house, where there used to be a lot of people not very long ago. Today, some of the rooms have been locked up, for their inhabitants are dead.
We went to the Biswanath Temple early in the morning. The temple area is located at the confluence of the Burhigang and the Brahmaputra. In ancient times, this place was inhabited by the Austro-Asiatic races. Several traces of a Neolithic civilisation have also been found here.
One of my grandpas was performing priestly duties when we reached. He blessed both of us and made us take rounds of the temple, which is also known as ‘pradakshinam’. We were then taken to the deity called ‘Bhalook Guxain’ (Bear God). They say if you lose something and you come here and pray, you get it back always. My youngest uncle (paternal) had left home 27 years ago. My family came here several times to pray for his return. He never came back.
“You know sweets, the idol that you see is actually four lions. Some historians argue that it is an inferior representation of the Lion’s Capitol of Emperor Asoka. The architecture is Perso-Hellenic. It is possible that this place may have been a Buddhist centre of worship once upon a time,” the historian in me couldn’t keep quiet for long.
Then we came to know that we could actually visit the older, ruined temple that’s located in the midst of the Brahmaputra. Locally, this temple is called Paani Vishwanath (Vishwanath of the water). It was an opportunity we couldn’t miss, for this temple remains submerged for most part of the year. Only lucky people get to offer prayers here.
So, we embarked on a short boat trip to the temple. Nothing much is known about this temple, but the architecture resembles that of the Gupta Age. A little ahead lies a massive rock inscription where blueprints of some ancient temples of the area are inscribed. Also inscribed is the famous ‘chakravyuh’ mentioned in the Mahabharata. In fact, the place is mentioned as a major centre of Shiva and Shakti worship in the Kalika Purana and the Yogini Tantra: the former was written during the 10th century, while the latter is a 16thcentury work.
We then went to another Devi temple called Uma Tumuni. The area had a major naval base of the Ahoms once upon a time. In fact, most of the temples in the area were lost when the Brahmaputra changed course and submerged a huge area. It is also said that King Siva Singha had lived here for a very long time and was known for his indulgences. So much so that when King Gadadhar Singha died, he refused to go to the Ahom capital to pay the last respects. The place had some magic over him. It can still be felt. No wonder my mother’s family has lived here for nearly three centuries now after King Siva Singha invited them from eastern Uttar Pradesh to settle down in this place. Some copper plate inscriptions, which were devottara land grants issued by the Ahom king, are still there with my maternal family.
Neelam was fascinated to see and know the vibrant history of the place. “Tum itne ancient ho?” was her instant remark after knowing all that. She also said that she felt as if I was right there when all this history happened. “Filmon mein narrator ban sakte ho, bete,” she said.
On our return, we went to the Chandi and Ganesha temples. It is said that King Rajeshwar Singha had constructed 18 temples in the area, most of which have long since disappeared. But their legacy has lived on. The locals here are very religious and spiritually inclined people.
However, this place is also inhabited by Bangladeshi immigrants, which has somewhat changed the demography of the place. But the temple culture and the pluralistic Hindu religion has ensured that there is no conflict between people of the two identically opposite faiths.
Visiting Biswanath Chariali was a very emotional experience, more than spiritual. Sadly, however, nothing much has been done by the government to make this place a tourist attraction. This is injustice for sure to a place whose history goes back to the time when man first learnt to lead a civilised life. For me, however, it will always be the place where the woman who gave birth to me was born.

Photo Credits: Lord Mani

“Yun to mohabbat ka dushman zamana hai, fir bhi jawaani mein dil to lagaana hai…”, I flirtatiously looked at Neelam as I mouthed the lines.
“What’s the point in singing this song now?” she asked with curiosity.
“Arre I was flirting with you, my dear.”
“Aren’t we married now? Besides, this song is old. Why didn’t you sing it when we were dating?”
“So what if we are married? I can still flirt with you. And this song didn’t come to my mind then. But I did sing good songs to you then.”
“Yeah right, all Mithun Chakravarty-Bappi Lahiri songs. Did I tell you how my blood used to boil those days? You had ruined so many moments when I had felt particularly romantic. I can never forgive you for that.”
“Arre, but those were good songs…”
“Who sings Krishna dharti pe aaja tu to a girl?”
“Well all right. You won’t understand the beauty of Bappi da’s songs. But yeah, I had something in mind when I sang this song to you abhi.”
“My dear hubby, I know you too well. You definitely have something on your mind. So spill it out!”
“Waah, Neelam rani giving orders to Emperor Ajatashatru.”
“Cut the crap! Tell me what it is.”
“Okay! I was thinking if we could go to Tezpur. They say it’s the city of love and there are a lot of good places to see. Besides, I have some relatives on my mom’s side staying there. Accommodation won’t be too much of a problem. It’s been a while since we last went on a trip. Remember Shillong?”
Tezpur, the city that has the eternal love between Usha and Aniruddha etched on its spirit. The name Tezpur literally means “city of blood”, and is believed to have got this name after the violent battle between King Bana and Lord Krishna that had painted the city red.
“Tell me the story na,” Neelam insisted.
“Well, there was this princess named Usha who had dreamt of a prince and fallen in love with him. Her friend Chitralekha drew a lifelike sketch of the prince based on her description. I think this gave rise to the concept of police artists drawing sketches of suspects based on eyewitness descriptions.”
“Offo, why do you always have to be so smart? Tell me the story na.”
“All right, all right. It was just an analysis, sweetie. Anyhow, Chitralekha identified the prince as Aniruddha, nephew of Lord Krishna. But Usha ji was prem deewani and shaadi was on her mind. But she had a kharoos bapu in King Bana. Chitralekha was a mayavi. She spirited Aniruddha away to the princess’ boudoir, where the two got married as per Gandharva rites. But when Bana got wind of the affair, he imprisoned Aniruddha. This infuriated Lord Krishna so much that he came to the city to give battle to Bana. A fierce battle ensued and there was a lot of bloodshed. It also happened that Lord Shiva, whose staunch devotee was Bana, intervened on his behalf and fought Lord Krishna.”
“Kya story hai yaar. Dekha, love kitna strong hota hai?” Neelam was thoroughly impressed.
“Haan, sahi. Moral of the story is love ke liye saala har koi marega.”
“Bakwaas! Tum mare ho?”
“Marne waala tha almost…woh tumhare dad ka favourite banda jo tha, Parveen Kumar Chaddha, whom your dad wanted you to marry…uske chakkar mein kya kya huwa tha you know. But I proved to be your knight in shining armour.”
“Aha ha ha, woh kaise?”
“Arre I saved you from becoming Chaddha ki chaddi.”
“What crap! Seriously, what crap! How dare you!” Neelam used a little violence with me.
We set out for Tezpur early. My dad had asked us to take the Mangaldai route, but we decided to go via Nagaon. It wasn’t exactly a great decision, as it turned out later, for the road was bumpy and not so great till Jagiroad. Actually, a new express highway is under construction, and the road is good in patches only. It normally takes about an hour to reach Jagiroad from Guwahati, but only it took us nearly two hours. Of course, some credit must be given to my dear wife also, who wouldn’t let me step on the gas.
We stopped for chai at Jagiroad and went to a restaurant named Jain Hotel. When I was young, I would come here with my family for refreshments whenever we stopped by at this town. This restaurant is known for its maintenance of hygiene…barring the toilets, of course. Kalakands here are really famous.
When I was young, I would stop my breath whenever we passed by the paper factory in Jagiroad; but this time, the smell of chemicals seemed so nice. I took a deep breath. I was in the city after nearly six years.
“Wow, the forest on the right is so dense! I feel like I’m on a tropical jungle adventure,” Neelam clapped with glee. Poor little girl! In Delhi, one doesn’t find such forest areas.
“That’s the Hornbill Park, my love. Kisi zamane mein idhar hornbills milte the. Abhi bhi milte honge, I don’t know. It is the state bird of Arunachal Pradesh.” What followed was an intellectual discussion on the disappearing flora and fauna in the country and the usual government-doing-nothing conclusions.
We stopped for lunch at a place called Amoni near Nagaon. We had roti thali, which tasted like manna. Neelam was particularly happy and kept on saying “Punjab ka mazzaa aa gaya”. I had to tell her that it’s a unique fusion dish, for the subzee and dal are very much Assamese in taste.
Another thing about this place that has always struck me is the availability of rare audio cassettes and CDs, which you cannot hope to find in big cities.
The next time we stopped was at the Koliya Bhomora Bridge. Inaugurated in 1987, it’s the longest bridge over the Brahmaputra with a length of over three kilometres. The bridge has been named after an ambitious Ahom general, who had envisaged a bridge over the river connecting the two banks several centuries ago.
We put up at my aunt’s place. Neelam was a bit uneasy initially, for this aunt of mine couldn’t make it to our wedding. So they never met. On the way, she was asking me if my aunt’s family would mind her presence. I had to make her understand that I’m no longer a kiddo who comes with his parents and that she being my wife was an inseparable part of me. She didn’t take long to feel comfortable, thanks to my aunt and her daughter.
That day we just had time to see the Cole Park or Chitralekha Udyan. It’s a beautiful place! It’s been named after one Mr Cole, who was the Deputy Commissioner of Assam in British India. The park has been spruced up in recent times and houses 9th century sculptural remains, which include two massive stone pillars and remains of a palace. There is also the Bhomoraguri rock inscription, which hints at an ancient plan to bridge the Brahmaputra. We also spotted several coochi-cooing couples—a reminder of the fact that we were in the city of love.
The next day we went to see the Agnigarh Hill. It is believed that Usha was confined in a palace surrounded by fire here to keep her out of Aniruddha’s reach, hence the name Agnigarh. It’s basically a park today atop a hillock, and a popular hangout for couples. There’s a tower that offers a panoramic view of the river and the city. And there are several sculptures depicting episodes of Usha-Aniruddha romance.

(to be continued…)

Photo Credits: Lord Mani

There are only a few things over which Neelam and I agree without fighting. After our Agartala trip, I had the impression that she would not question my judgement in matters of travel at least. I was wrong! When I first proposed Shillong as our next destination, she summarily rejected it. Her reason: Shillong is a “clichéd” tourist spot that everyone seems to visit.
“Naya kya hai?” she asked.
“Tum nayi ho,” was my answer.
“Weak logic. Give me a zabardast reason for buying your point.”
“We can make it a motorcycle trip if we go to Shillong.”
Neelam was quiet for a moment. Probably she tried to imagine how exciting it would be to go on a biking trip.
“Mummy ji ko puch kar batati hoon.” My mother has to intervene all the time in our fights. Every time Neelam is about to lose a battle, she invokes my mother’s intervention. And much to my dismay, my mommy always takes her bahu’s side.
“Why do you have to bring in my mother in every situation?”
“Listen, I’m a well-mannered Bharatiya naari. I respect my elders. A girl should always take her in-laws as her own parents. And to obey our parents…”
“Cut the crap,” I interrupted. “Drama bandh karo. Go and ask your mummy ji if it is so important.”
My mother apparently told her that it would be too risky to go on a biking trip to Shillong. “The hills are treacherous,” she told Neelam.
“You know, Mummy ji says it’s too risky. But I think it will be fun. Chalo na chalte hai,” Neelam said with a wicked glimmer in her eyes. She always likes to do things that others don’t approve of or find risqué. All her ‘Bharatiya naari’ logic had vanished in a moment. I sometimes wonder if I have married a reincarnation of Fearless Nadia.
We set out on a fine Monday morning on a hired Royal Enfield Bullet. Actually, it was looted, not hired, from an old friend, but anything for Neelam. She should know the Northeast. She is married to the Northeast. I’m from the Northeast. And being my wife, she has every right to know what my roots are like.
All the way, she kept on chirping like a bird and distracting me with loud expressions like “arre woh dekho baadal hamare neeche”, “arre teri, woh bandar lapka” and so on. She has a thing for hills…nature to be precise.
“Yaar, this is the best road trip I’ve ever had. It feels as if I’m acting in a desi version of Motorcycle Diaries,” Neelam was just too happy.
“Yeah, certainly. And I feel like Che Guevara. You are the horny Alberto Granado,” I quipped.
“What rubbish! Why do you always have nasty things and roles for me? Koi acchi baat bhi kar sakte ho na.”
“Na biwi, tu to superstar hai. Chal fir, I’m Rishi Kapoor and you are Dimple Kapadia. This is the shooting of Pyar Mein Twist.”
“Chee! I hate Dimple! Koi aur, please!”
“Yeah right, it was a wrong name to use. You are Pimple Kapadia!” I laughed out loud even as she kept on punching my back and pinching my tummy.
Shillong is a geographical as well as cultural legacy of the British Raj. The township was established by the English for several reasons: the two primary reasons being its strategic location between the Surama Valley and the Brahmaputra Valley, and the cooler climes similar to the English air.
Shillong also finds mention in several literary works: the most notable ones being Nirad C. Chaudhary’s The Autobiography of an Unknown Indian, and Gurudeb Rabindranath Tagore’s Shesher Kobita.
We reached Umiam Lake where we decided to stop for a while. The scenery was marvellous. Even though I have been to the lake many a times before, this time, there was an added charm—I had come with my wife. The water baby that she is, Neelam had an instant desire to swim in the lake. I encouraged her this time. I told her that if she swims, I will soon make a film and cast her as the heroine. The name of the movie would be Gayi Bhains Paani Mein.
Needless to say, I ended up with several bruises for that mistimed joke.
We had lunch at the Blue Vada restaurant at the Orchid Lake Resort in Umiam. Prior booking is required to dine at this place as it is always in demand. But it offers a breathtaking view of the place so it is a must visit. The food was exquisite.
After lunch, we headed straight towards Shillong, which was just 15 km away. We checked in at the Tripura Castle in Cleve Colony, which is a heritage hotel. It was previously owned by the Maharaja of Tripura.
We kept all our sightseeing for the next day and instead chose to hop the markets and the city centres at Police Bazar and Laitumkhrah in the evening. It was also because Neelam felt a little giddy.
“Yaar, I think I need to lie down for a while. I feel pukish.”
“Pukish? Koi good news to nahin hai na?” This time, my joke was really mistimed and she just glowered at me. The cold weather coupled with the motorbike ride was showing it effect on the poor girl. I also realised I had said enough for the day; anything more would really put my marriage in jeopardy. An afternoon nap could both do us good.
It was almost 5.30 pm when Neelam woke me up.
“Chalo chalo market chalte hai.”
“Arre you were sick na?”
“I’m ok now. Now stop being a quizmaster and get ready. My God, we are late!” she almost shrieked. For a while I had forgotten that there could be no market in this country that Neelam Soni would not loot. My fault, anyway.
We went to a Tibetan market named Glory’s Plaza at Police Bazaar. There, my lady bought an array of warmers and a few souvenir items for everyone back in Guwahati and in Delhi. I tried to remind her that we are on a biking trip and too much luggage would make the return journey punishing, but to no avail.
Back in the castle, we had a nice dinner and retired for the night early. We planned to visit the Shillong Peak early next morning.
Shillong is surrounded by hills. Three of them are revered in Khasi tradition: Lum Sohpetbneng, Lum Diengiei and Lum Shillong. The Shillong Peak is every tourist’s dream destination. The entire city below is visible from the top. The scene reminded me of several Hollywood movies. It was simply indescribable. Neelam was so excited that she kept on clicking photos. And we both bored another couple to death by making them take our snaps in different ‘pati-patni’ poses.
A trip to the nearby Elephant Falls was no different. The view was captivating. For a long time, we stood motionless. I had never come to this spot before so it was new for me as well. After a while, however, we got back to our senses and started capturing it on camera.
The next spot was the golf course or the Gleneagles of the East. It is the world’s wettest golf course and one of the few natural golf courses in Asia.
“Arre wow, it’s such a huge place. So green. Koi Hollywood movie jaisi lagti hai, nahin?” Neelam said.
“It surely is. They say Shillong is the ‘Scotland of the East’. Samajh mein aayi baat?”
We returned to the Tripura Castle to freshen up. We just had another day in hand to complete the trip, and I still had to meet my friend Major Tomojit. I called him up and he invited us to be his guest at the 58 Gorkha Training Centre the next day. But we still had the entire evening in front of us. So, we decided to hang out in the city.
We wandered aimlessly at Laitumkhrah and other places. I showed her the St. Anthony’s and St. Edmund’s colleges, the new IIM campus, as well as the Raj Bhavan and the state library. We then went to a multi-cuisine restaurant and had authentic local food for the first time. We have had momos before but not anything typical to the city. We therefore had a special rice called jastem, which is cooked with onion, ginger and turmeric. We also ordered a vegetable curry despite the waiter insisting that we try their special non-veg items. Neelam being a vegetarian, we couldn’t.
The next morning, our last day in Shillong, we went to the 58 Gorkha Training Centre to see my friend, Major Tomojit. He showed us the place and even showed us parts of the ongoing training at the centre. We saw the cadets learning difficult lessons in warfare, but Neelam wanted to know if there was anything worth seeing. So, we were taken to a regimental museum where I personally had a good time.
But Neelam wasn’t impressed with the vintage weaponry on display. She hates ‘boys’ toys’, and she says that quite often. She, however, impressed my friend a lot, so much so that he offered to send a car to Guwahati with our luggage.
The next morning, before we started our return journey, we decided to check out a coffee shop named MOT in Laitumkhrah. We had Irish coffee there, which made for an awesome treat. They were also playing some live music, which made the experience all the more pleasant. Music comes naturally to the people of Shillong, for it is the self-proclaimed rock capital of India. Several international bands including Scorpions, Sepultura and MLTR have performed in Shillong. Also, this is probably the only city that has been celebrating music legend Bob Dylan’s birthday every year since 1972, courtesy Lou Majaw, India’s own Dylan. Shillong also has several bands that are doing well at the national and international levels: the most notable among them being Soulmate.
On our way back, I had a feeling that we will have to come back to Shillong again someday. We had only skimmed through the city and didn’t quite see too many places. Neelam was also unusually quiet. I couldn’t gauge her thoughts. Maybe she was sad at the thought of leaving the place. Or maybe she was only pretending all this while of liking the trip. I didn’t know. There are times when you don’t understand your spouse. It was such a moment.
“You know, I think we should come back again. I think there is still much to be seen here,” she finally broke her silence.
“As you say, madam. Ghulam aapki khidmat mein hai.”
“No, sacchi mein. And I promise agli baar I won’t shop too much. I would rather see the places. I feel this is home, too.”
I didn’t say anything but only smiled to myself. Actually, when you love someone, you tend to understand the other person’s feelings without even knowing that you do.
The sun felt warm. And so was the hug I got from behind. We just rode on. Our next trip was already taking shape in my mind.

“Mujhe mootra visarjan karna hai.”
“Disgusting! When will you stop mouthing cheap Hindi movie dialogues?” asked a seemingly exasperated Neelam.
“Knock! Knock! Reality calls! You have married a cheap Hindi-dialogue aficionado, sweetheart!”
“Bakwaas nai karo! Go and do your mootra…God! Tumhare saath rehte rehte main bhi aisi hi ban gayi hoon!”
“That’s like my gal!” I patted her cheek and went in search of a toilet. I didn’t have to look for one for long. There were plenty at the fair that we had come to attend. I had never seen so many public toilets at one place before. Later, I learnt that it is a planned city that takes good care of sanitation. I was thankful to the local civic body for me not having to pee like a doggie on the wayside.

Neelam and I got married at the dawn of the New Year. Although the wedding went smooth, we couldn’t agree over the honeymoon destination for several days. I actually had to appeal to her Punjabi spirit of enterprise to explore the ‘Paradise Unexplored’ with me. Later, I resorted to emotional blackmailing, and within two days, we had our air tickets done to the first stop of our honeymoon travel—Agartala.
“Mela to dekh liya, now what are you showing me next?” I like the curious look that Neelam gives me whenever I take her out.
“Palace dekhna hai?”
“Idhar palace bhi hai?”
“Tripura was a princely state, sweets. In fact, it was the only Northeastern state that wasn’t exactly a British dominion. In 1849, Maharaja Krishna Kishore Manikya made present-day Agartala his capital, as it made it easier to be in touch with British Bengal. Tab se lekar ke aaj tak, this city has been the capital, even when Tripura finally became a part of the Indian Union in 1949, and became a state in 1972.”
“Ab history chaddo ji, take me to this palace.”
Off we went to Ujjayanta Palace, which houses the state Legislative Assembly. It was completed in 1901 and was designed by celebrated British architect, Sir Alexander Martin. The earlier royal palace of the Kingdom of Tripura was located 10 km away from Agartala, but a devastating earthquake in 1897 destroyed it and was later rebuilt as Ujjayanta Palace in the heart of the city.
Neelam was delighted to see the Mughal garden–style ground adorned with fountains and such exquisite rooms like the Durbar Hall, Throne room, China room and so on. We also went to see the adjacent temples, Lakshmi-Narayan, Uma-Maheshwari, Kali and Jagannath.
“Tum to bahut Mughal Mughal karte rehte ho na, kuch unke jaisa bhi kaam kiya karo,” Neelam had a mocking tone.
“Accha? Aisa kya karna chahiye mujhe taaki main unke jaisa lagu?”
“Shah Jahan ne apni begum ke liye Taj Mahal banwaya, tum mere liye Ujjayanta jaisa ek palace banwa do.”
I could see that coming.
“Soniyo, Delhi mein flat le raha hoon na twadde vaaste? Aur ek aisi jagah dikhau jo tumhe is palace se bhi accha lage toh?”
“Ummm…fir tumhare Delhi waale flat mein reh lungi. Ab woh kaunsi jagah hai mujhe batao.”
“Chalo Neermahal!”
The ‘Water Palace’ was built in 1930 in the midst of the Rudrasagar Lake. Its architecture is inspired by both Hindu and Muslim styles and reminds you of the lake palaces in Rajasthan. It is about 53 kilometres from the city.
As expected, Neelam liked the place a lot. She even had a wild idea of taking a swim in the lake and later sunbathe at the palace. I had to remind her that we have come for sightseeing, not to shoot an episode of The Little Mermaid. She was angry. She didn’t talk to me on our way back, which gave me some time to observe the city from the window of our cab.
Agartala appeared to be a growing city: a city that got acquainted with modernisation not too long ago. The roads were decent and the city skyline was dotted with several high-rise buildings that housed malls and apartments. In the years to come, it would become a major city in the east, I thought.
What struck me was the low police presence on the roads. I could only see a few traffic policemen and few check points. On the way, a pilot car crossed us with just a couple of escort vehicles. Our cab driver told us that it was the state Chief Minister’s cavalcade! I wondered if our Chief Minister Shiela Dixit could dare to travel with such light escort: a thought that even Neelam shared.
We stopped at the Kaman Choumohani, the main market place, and I bought her a traditional Tripuri dress. She was immediately back to her jovial self. Girls have a thing for shopping, I tell you. It just acts like therapy. They will shop when they are happy, and shop more when they are sad. Neelam herself says she is an “irritatingly feminine” girl. And I have always wondered what that means.
“Walk pe chale?” Neelam proposed.
“Itni raat ko? Khaana khaane ke baad?”
“What’s the problem? Delhi mein to mana nahin karte? 12-1 baje bhi we have met at the India Gate, haven’t we? So stop being lazy and let’s go.” It was an order that I had to obey.
We took a stroll towards the city centre, towards Ujjayanta Palace. It was all lit up and looked beautiful. We spent some time there, holding hands and enjoying the tranquillity of the place. It feels good to escape from the din and bustle of a metro and spend some time in quieter climes.
The next day, we went to the Raj Bhavan or Pushbanta Palace, which is another architectural marvel in Agartala. Although we could see only those parts that were open to the public, yet we could make out the beauty of the place although we could only imagine the greatness that lay inside.
We also went to the Sipahi Jala animal resort and zoo but had to return soon as it began to rain.
“Damn, the rain ruined it al!” Neelam cursed her luck. And later blamed it on my not taking her to the famed Buddha Temple in the city.
“God ne hume punish kiya.” My girl tends to be a little superstitious sometimes even though she has a completely metropolitan upbringing.
I had no intelligent answer to this, but a logical explanation. “Agartala has a monsoon influenced humid subtropical climate with high levels of precipitation almost all throughout the year.”
Later, when it cleared, I took her to the temple of goddess Tripura Sundari, after whom the state of Tripura has been named. We also went to the banks of the Haora River, which runs along the city stretch, and spent some time. All the while, we both were comparing it to the Yamuna, which is in a dangerous state, but which could have given Delhi another peaceful getaway.
Since it was our last day in Agartala, we had to make the most of it. So, we went to see Malancha Nivas, where Gurudeb Rabindranath Tagore used to stay. At the time of our visit, it was being renovated, so we couldn’t see much of it, but I felt surrounded by greatness. I wanted to know Neelam’s thoughts on this, but she was more interested in knowing how they were conserving the building.
We also went to see the new railway station in Agartala and were quite amazed to find it akin to a palace. Everything about the city is grand and regal. If developed further, it could become an important city and a prominent destination on the world travel map, I thought.
On our return flight to Guwahati, Neelam kept on asking me about other places in the Northeast and about my home state, Assam. She seemed to have enjoyed Agartala a lot, and so, was very curious about other places in the region.
“Abhi aur kahaan jana hai?” I asked her, pinching her nose.
“Jahaan tum le chalo…” I knew there would be no further argument between us in matters of travel.
I wanted to ask her if she had a specific place in mind, but by then, she had already dozed off, holding my arm. Poor girl, she has hopped so many places in the last two days with little rest that she was tired. I closed my eyes too, trying to zero in on our next stop.

Ajatashatru and Neelam Soni got married in such a rush that Fried Eye could not invite its readers to the wedding. We apologise for that and would like to invite you all to join us in congratulating the young couple for tying the knot. We are also thankful to them for sharing their travel experiences with us.

No one knows for sure when the story of Guwahati began. Perhaps it was in existence when man first learnt the concept of civilized living. The city had already become a prominent place by the time the great epics were written. The Mahabharata talks about Kaurava prince Duryodhana marrying princess Bhanumati of Pragjyotishpura, which is identified as ancient Guwahati. King Bhagadutta, Bhanumati’s father, excavated a huge tank to mark the wedding. The tank is identified as the Dighalipukhuri located in the heart of the city.

Thus speaks mythology. The city finds its first historical mention as Kamrupa a tributary kingdom in the Allahabad Pillar Inscription of Emperor Samudragupta. Subsequent records of King Harshavardhana’s reign over Aryavarta (North and Central India) highlight economic and cultural exchanges with the kingdom of Kamrupa under King Bhaskarvarman of the Bhauma Naraka dynasty.

Kamrupa prominently figures in both medieval and modern history. The Chinese traveler Hiuen Tsang and Turkish chronicler Al-Beruni have referred to the place as Kamru and Kamrut respectively. These are believed to be corruptions of Kamrupa.The Battle of Saraighat that ended the myth of Mughal invincibility was fought in what is today Guwahati. Of course, that episode is part of folklore now, but most of its historicity is lost in the race for modernity. In fact, Guwahati is perhaps one of those few cities in the world where traces of the past are few and far between.

There are several interpretations about Guwahati’s ancient name, Pragjyotishpura. One school of thought believes it means “city of eastern lights’, while another says the city was named such because it was a centre of astrology (Jyotish). A third view by Dr Banikanta Kakati breaks the word into Pagar-juh (jo)-tic (c-ch) or “land of mountain heights”.

The name Guwahati first finds mention in Mughal chronicles penned during the several imperial campaigns to the region under Ahom rule. An old adage in Cooch Behar, “khata khuta Majum Khan mukhe chhap daari, beharaka bhange jaibe Gauhata baari” refers to Nawab Mir Jumla’s (Muazzam Khan) Assam campaign mentioning Guwahati as ‘Gauhata’. When Assam was finally annexed to the British Empire, the English named it Gowhatty.

With time, Guwahati has transformed into a metropolitan city in tune with modern lifestyle. By virtue of its being the ‘gateway to the Northeast’, the city today enjoys several advantages. MNC brand outlets, upscale multiplexes, amusement parks, eateries and coffee joints with a pan-India presence—Guwahati has them all. Some complain about the haphazard growth, both living as well as material, in the city. Nevertheless, they do little to make the place any less charming. The greatest asset of the city, though under-utilised, happens to be the mighty Brahmaputra on the banks of which the city thrives.

Once upon a time a steamer service operated between Calcutta and Guwahati. Now, there is none. Although it is expected that someday the river will be made good use of, there hasn’t been any policy initiative towards that. It is remembered by authorities only during the monsoons when it rises in an angry menace. Nevertheless, the Brahmaputra adds to the city’s scenic beauty. The river also makes possible for Guwahati to be among the few Indian cities to have floating restaurants.The lone floating discotheque, Kamakazi, is probably the only one of its kind in the country.

Since 1962, Guwahati has boasted of the multi-sports Nehru stadium that has hosted many one-day internationals and football matches. Today it has over six stadiums and with the National Games in 2007 also enjoys world-class sports infrastructure.

In the field of education, Guwahati scores an edge over other parts of the Northeast. Some of the best known schools and institutions of higher learning, including an IIT, are located here.

As the economic nerve centre of the Northeast, the city has the highest volume of trade and commerce in the region. The world’s second largest tea auction centre is located here and Sualkuchi in the city suburbs is a silk hub of importance. Besides Guwahati provides good inter and intra-state air, rail and road connectivity. Media, telecommunication, and public utility services are also well developed. In all respects, Guwahati is truly a modern city.

Some of the most frequented places in Guwahati :

- Accoland: With several interesting rides for both children and adults, one can spend an entire day with family here without a heavy toll on the pocket.

-Assam State Zoo-cum-Botanical Garden: Located amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, the sprawling zoo houses some rare species of wild animals settled comfortably in their natural habitat including whiter tigers, one horned rhinos, swamp tapirs and leopards. The Botanical Gardens boasts of around forty-five species of orchids besides being a popular picnic spot for lovebirds and schoolchildren alike.

- Dighalipukhuri: This is an ideal location for those struck by Cupid’s arrow. With one of the country’s most scenically located coffee shops by its side, the place is never without coochi-cooing couples- often students of nearby colleges. But beware: this place is also frequented by creeps who are forever ready with their cameras to capture you and your significant other as soon as you share an intimate moment. Nevertheless, it’s probably the only everyday place that justifies the name Kamrupa.

- Guwahati Planetarium: Although less frequented, it has an amazing ambience and offers quality shows at cheap prices.

- Jyoti Chitraban: This is the place that houses Jollywood- the Assamese film industry.

- Panbazaar: The education as well as the cultural hub of the city. Prestigious institutions like Cotton College, Handique Girls’ College and Don Bosco School are located here. The State Museum, District Library as well as Rabindra Bhavan are situated here. The city’s best known bookstores can also be found in this area.

- Shankardev Kalakshetra: Built on a huge plot, this cultural hotspot is inspired by the first amphitheatre in Asia, Ranghar in Sibsagar and includes in its premises a museum, library and exhibition galleries.

Besides, numerous places of worship dot the cityscape including the famous Kamakhya, Umananda, Ugratara, Sukreswar, Balaji Tirupati and Vashista Ashram.

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