Contd from the previous part which can be accessed at this link

 Early morning of 5^th Feb 2012, we got up at 0530 as our flight for Dar es Salaam , via Kilimanjaro was to leave at 1230 hrs. We all dressed up in a hurry , went for the “King Breakfast” and were ready to move out by 1000hr, when we remembered that we have given our clothes for calendaring and they have not been delivered yet. Lot of frenetic calls were made to the house keeping but nothing seemed to be moving , after lots of shouting and persuation we were able to get our clothes back and we rushed towards the ENTEBBE INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT. We were in time for the check –in and heaved a sign of relief once inside the immigration window.

        The flight was very comfortable, airhostesses were very cordial and looked us after us too well, meals were served to include sandwiches, nuts and beer/juice. The Precision Airlines as the name suggests was to be precise on schedule and we landed at Kilimanjaro Airport, TANZANIA around 1345hr for a short halt and took off again with the onboard service and same snacks again served. We landed at Dar Es Salaam Julius Nyerere International Airport  around 1535hr.We rushed ahead of everybody as our next flight was less than 40 min to take off for Zanzibar from here. We went through a routine of checks and paper work only to be told that it was not required as we were to board the Precision Airlines flight again, but in the security check one of my gem had to gift his deo’s, sun’s screen lotion and a swiss knife as they were not allowed in the hand baggage.

            The Precision Airlines flight from  Dar es Salaam   to Zanzibar is all of fifteen  minutes and the view from the top is awesome. We landed at the Zanzibar International Airport also called Kisauni Airport around 1645hours. The Airport is too small and the frills of an even basic Airport are missing, like there is no conveyor belt for your luggage, it is lugged by the  persons and handed over to you. The people are very friendly and the language commonly spoken is Swahili. We came out of the Airport and headed in the direction of the waiting cabs. The view outside the airport is similar to any of our small places in INDIA. We hired a cab and asked him to take us to a place called Kendwa Rocks , on the other end of Zanzibar Island.  

                  Zanzibar was primarily under  Portuguese Empire , which ruled it for more than 200 years. In 1698 Zanzibar fell under the control of the Sultanate of Oman . In 1890 Zanzibar became a British protectorate. The death of the pro-British Sultan Hamad bin Thuwaini on 25 August 1896 and the succession of Sultan Khalid bin Barghash of whom the British did not approve led to the Anglo-Zanzibar War. On the morning of 27 August 1896, ships of the Royal Navy destroyed the Beit al Hukum Palace. A cease fire was declared 38 minutes later, and to this day the bombardment stands as the shortest war in history.  The islands gained independence from Britain in December 1963 as a constitutional monarchy. A month later, the bloody Zanzibar Revolution, in which several thousand Arabs and Indians were killed and thousands more expelled and expropriated, led to the Republic of Zanzibar and Pemba. That April, the republic merged with the mainland Tanganyika, or more accurately, was subsumed into Tanzania, of which Zanzibar remains a semi-autonomous region. Zanzibar was most recently in the international news with a January 2001 massacre, following contested elections.        

 KENDWA ROCKS  is located on the north coast of Zanzibar, 55 km from Stone Town and just a few km south of Nungwi village. The roads were smooth and drive was a treat in a Toyota mini van but suddenly the driver stopped the van and requested us if we will allow him to run over to the nearest filling station and get an extra jerricane of  diesel for himself as the crisis of the same was hitting the town due to recession. We  told him to go ahead . We waited for twenty minutes when finally he showed up and we started moving again. It was already dark and I told him with surprise that he should turn the head lights, when he informed me that they were not working. We were dumbfound for some time and started praying as the road was narrow and he was not driving slow. We kept on looking out for the any kind of vehicular movement on the road and cautioning the driver. To our rescue a car came up from the rear and I told him to let it pass and to follow on its tail as it would help us move with its headlights for a support.

      We reached Kendwa Rocks around 2000hr and scouted for a room . We went to the reception of Kendwa Rocks resort and were told that the room will be available for three personon sharing basis  for a price of $120/ ni. The deal was way above our budget but we needed a place to put up for the night. We asked the receptionist if we could be shown the room before we decide. She obliged and went with us .The room was a very unique one, with a single room , three beds in that , with mosquito nets hanging on them, toilet and bath seprate which was adjoining to it with open roof, no air conditioner and lights too drab to look any way inviting to us. We came back to the receptionist and asked her to lower the prices as it was not worth the price which she was asking. She did not budge on it and we took our call and went to look for some other hotel in the vicinity.

  We drove for ten min as the road at the Kendwa Rocks area is really pathetic and came across a sign board saying White Sands Resort. We went to the reception which was like it had been left in a hurry, a man who was sleeping inside it. We woke him up and asked for a room for ourselves, he showed us the room which was neat and clean, bright light, with air conditioner and a chiller to boast and toilet very nicely done, although a new concept was seen everywhere that no doors were provided to any of them, in any of the hotels we saw. We said we will take it as it was for $70/ni , which was in our budget. We quickly paid off the cab chap $30 for his efforts and made ourselves comfortable in the room. After ten minutes we went to the restaurant and ordered our dinner. By the time it was getting prepared we went  for our first visit to the beach.

     We got up late on the  6^TH Feb as it was the day to relax. We went for the breakfast which was again a lavish one , off course , on the house or included in our room rent. We had fruits, cutlets ,bread and  egg to order ,juice and coffee. We decided to explore the beach as it was early in the day and the sun was pleasant . We saw a number of foreigners, singles and groups all over the beach and while we were moving around we came across a person who was directed by the receptionist of White sand to enroll us in the diving programme. We decided to take a two day dive course which would cost us $150. We were told to come for the evening classes at the SPANISH DANCERS DIVING club for the introduction and rehersal for our main diving the next day. Having taken careof our first agenda of diving we were really looking for a place for our lunch.

          We came to a place called the Essence inn and went inside the grand shelter which was beautifully decorated and looked just like it was set for some movie shoot. A person came to our table and introduced himself to us, his name was Mr Sauravan, he was from India and was the manager of the Inn. He informed us that the inn was basically for the Italian tourists’ stay but the restaurant was open for the general  public. We ordered  the Sea Food Platter and mocktails. We were amazed to see the presentation when the sea food platter was kept in front of us. The items on the platter were octopus, king crab, kalamari, shrimp, etc . We did not waste a moment longer and went for the sumptuous meal at once, which complimented the presentation. We thanked the staff for the great meal but the moment we gave our card for settling the bill it was returned with a smile that it was not accepted as it was a Debit card. The payment was made in cash from our side only after the manager agreed to let us go and do it later that evening.

           At around 1530 hr we were woken up from our slumber , which we were taking in our respective hammocks, and told to take a boat ride to the Nungwi Beach for the evening classes for Diving. We were greeted by Mr Shy, Mr Alvaro, Mr Nick at the Spanish Dancers Diving. We were quickly asked to fill our forms and pay the fees in full in advance. Done that, we were taken to the place of our briefing and demonstration. The scuba unit consists of a tank, a regulator, and a buoyancy control device (BCD ) . A BCD is inflated or deflated, allowing the diver to float or descend in the water. The regulator supplies air from the tank to the diver via a hose, gauges and a mouthpiece. We were told about the mask, scuba fins, wet suits, weight system or weight belt, the underwater communication ,etc.

             We were ready to go to the ocean the moment we were being told about the equipment so much that the minute we were given our wet suits we tried to put them on, and we did it so with lots of efforts only to be laughed at by everybody as we had put them on with the zipper in the front. We had to remove them  and put them on again , after dipping our feet in the water  to lessen the friction . We were ready for the ocean and the scuba lessens in a few minutes and looked like real divers with all the gear we had worn. We were taken for the half an hour of our first lessen in the water and we came back exhausted with the experience and learning for our life. That night we all fell asleep minutes after our dinner.

           07 Feb 2012 came with a bright sun which was a good news for us we were to go to the wall  in the Indian Ocean for the first diving experience of our lives. But before that we had to get dressed for  our breakfast. We went for our breakfast and found a unit was shooting some stunning beach models just in front of our breakfast table. With our jaws dropping we  kept on watching  the bikini clad models for good one hour when  finally I mustered enough courage and asked one of them if we can take picture of them . She obliged to the request and we went clicking on from that moment.

           We had decided to shift to the Nungwi beach as all our activities were centered  around that place. We moved in the Nungwi  Resort , took a room there  and  quickly went to the Spanish Dancers Diving for our first  diving  experience of life. We were taken to  Mnemba atoll , near the Mnemba Island which  is a mere 4.5 kilometres (2.8 miles) off of the north–eastern tip of Zanzibar .The pristine water and the surrounding was so beautiful that we were speech less for a good one minute. We put on our suits , checked our equipment and lowered ourselves into the clear water. It was nice and warm . We remained inside for about half an hour. It was worth every minute, the life which we saw was beyond words, everything was colourful, alive, mysterious, thrilling and enchanting. We surfaced and after a break of half an hour , which included refreshments like pineapple, banans & donuts, we again went for a second dive near by.

     We returned to our room by 1900hr and freshened up, got dressed and went to look for a place for drinks and dinner. We walked for  half an hour, saw the entire beach and all the eating joints, and finally decided to try out the BARAKA  Restaurant . We saw an assortment of Lobsters, kingfish, calamaries – prawns, octopus, crabs and squid freshly brought from the oceans displayed for the customers to choose for  meals. We ordered Rock Lobsters , rice and chips and our staple diet, Kiliminjaro and Sernengity beer. We relished the beer and  meal with the tides touching our feet’s with each bite.

          08^th Feb 2012  was a relaxed day, we got up late and went  for our on the house Breakfast around 1000hr. We took fruits, ham, bacon and ordered for Spanish omelet, with coffee and juice . We ate with all the time in the world to spare and kept our eyes glued to a group of lovelies who were sun tanning about ten meters from us. We decided to take a cab and go over to the stone town , in Zanzibar as the most  famous music festival of Africa , SAUTI ZA BUSARA was starting.

Finally after days , of adventure , fun and frolic,our holiday drew to a close

. But by jove, we needed that break to bring a new vigor in our life and also those moments to savour a lifetime .

Shahwar Hussain rides through the beautiful Lahaul and Spiti Valley and buys his peace with the mighty Himalayas.

Words: Shahwar Hussain

Pic : Incredible Spiti

The call of the mountains is a dangerous thing….It tugs at the heart so strong that if you fail to heed it’s call, you will surely brood for a long time. You will regret the missed chance to return to the folds of the mighty mountains, breath the cold fresh wind, walk by the lakes, watch the football sized stars make holes in the black sky at night and make some more friends among the monks (they all look the same…don’t they?…For all you know, you might introduce yourself to an old friend once again!!).

Well, the higher Himalayas have been calling me for a while now and I didn’t want the calls to get any dangerous and so I paid heed last August.

I decided to ride to the beautiful Lahaul and Spiti valley. An overwhelming number of riders who point their front wheel beyond Manali, end up riding to the Leh region. It IS a beautiful ride indeed, through some of the world’s highest motorable roads, water crossings, snow peaks, deep gorges and with a number of pristine high altitude lakes thrown in. but of late it has become far too crowded and commercialized for my liking. Of course the tour operators, the hotels and the assorted business have to make money to survive and they are mushrooming all over Leh. I always try and avoid crowded touristy places and at this moment, Leh, certainly fits the bill of a crowded touristy place. But this is my personal point of view.

I wanted to ride to Spiti but didn’t really want to take the additional burden of getting all the logistic right. I spent a couple of days deciding on the trip when I met an old friend Vishesh, who run his motorcycle tours in the Lahul and Spiti valley (www.incrediblespiti.com) along with Tsering Bodh and Subhansu Singh.

Riding solo is a nice feeling as we drift with the wind without any set itinerary. But time was at a blue chip premium and I thought riding with Vishesh and his group of 4 riders would be a better idea.

It is a good idea to start the journey from Shimla as riding from Delhi through the plains of Punjab can be a rather boring affair. We started early from Shimla and stopped at Narkhanda for breakfast. Riding in the hills invariably gives me a good appetite and after having our fill we rode on to Sarahan. This 110 km is a lovely ride on winding roads through a Deodar forest. Although we rode for about 10 hours on winding roads, it was not overtly tiresome and we spent the night at Sangla in tents at the Kinnaur Camps. Foran overwhelmingnumber of riders, it is the ride that matters and the ride is considered a success if they can enjoy a good camp fire and that is exactly what we got. And yes…we did do the touristy kind of thing too as we went to see the 900 year old Bhima Kali temple. It is amazing and we didn’t regret this touristy bit of activity one bit.

An early morning start again as we made our way to Kalpa via Chitkul which is the last village on the Indo-Tibetian border. It is a very scenic ride from Chitkul to Kalpa and we could see the Kinnaur Kailash peak which seems to change its colour during the course of the day. The apple orchards along the way accentuates the feel good factor of the ride and the sparse traffic added to the ambiance. Vishesh had the tour nicely paced out. After the 10 hour ride the day before, it was a 4 -5 hours of easy ride and we arrived at the Apple Country hotel in much better shape.

The next day the terrain changed quite a bit as we again rode for 10 hours from Kalpa to Tabo via Nako. At Khab before Nako, we could see the confluence of the Sutlej and the Spiti rivers and the hills became barren and brown as we entered the cold desert. The two checkpoints at Spillo and Chango didn’t take much time as we were the only “tourists” around.

Travelling with people who knows the area has its advantages. After Kalpa, Vishesh suddenly pulled up by the side of a rather old tree and announced ‘lunch!’. I certainly didn’t see any place or anyone who would serve us lunch but as we climbed a few stone steps by the side of the tree, we saw this small dhaba and we had the most amazing paranthas ever.

After we crossed the Sumdo checkpoint, we took a diversion on the right that took us to Gheun, whose claim to fame is the naturally preserved 600 year old mummy of a Buddhist monk that was discovered after a landslide exposed it. It is a little off the way and not too many tourist visits this area…All the better. Gheun also has an ITBP base.

Tiger Den was our den at Tabo for the next two days as we moved in and around Tabo.

The Tabo Monastery is a marvel indeed. The monastery was built in 996 AD and is made of straw and mud,much like the City of Bam in Iran which was destroyed by an earthquake some years back. It is a pity that we were not allowed to shoot inside the main prayer hall of the monastery but just as well. The flashlights would surely destroy the thousand year old paintings and other priceless artifacts. The monks of the monastery have an apple orchard and a sizeable amount of finance come from that.

Do not forget to try the lovely cakes made by the small German bakery. I am a sinker for that.

The other 1000 year old monastery is the Dhankar monastery. As we rode up, we could see it from afar and it looked like an extension of the craggy brown mountain itself. Some part of the old structure has collapsed and it has been declared as one of the most endangered monuments in the world. The new monastery built below is not a patch on the old one and I made no attempt of going in.

Vishesh took us on a 45 minutes hike to the Dhankar lake…Like any other high altitude lakes, this one was just as beautiful. I have been to the monastery before but never heard about the lake.

As we came down from Dhankar to the Kaza highway, we found a ropeway constructed by the locals to cross over the confluence and on to their fields.We took a ride across for a smoke and a tea with the farmer.

After a 5 hour ride the next day, we reached Pin Valley and had a lovely home stay at Mudh. Sadly we couldn’t go to the Pin Valley National Park.

The 2 hour ride from Pin valley to Kaza sure is breathtaking to say the least. Motorcycle is the best way to enjoy this stretch as also the way up to Kye and Kibber. The Kye Monastery is a Centre of Buddhist learning and also an Old Age Home but with a difference. The inmates at the home stay there not because they have nowhere to stay but because they want to meditate undisturbed.

Kibber was till recently the highest motorable village in Asia and has some very good restaurant. Considering the altitude and the sparse movement of goods, the restaurants are not at all costly.

On the way back, we stopped at Langza and Komic villages. You can still find fossils at Langza and it is such an amazing thing to find fossils of fish and other marine animals in the high Himalayas!! And at Komic we did nothing but sat at the edge of the mountain and saw the red big sun dip over the imposing mountain and turn the sky into a flaming red canopy.

We climbed to Kunzumla (4551 mt) from Kaza and then came down to Chandratal. The 12 odd kilometers to the lake is very dusty with fine dusts like talcum powder and they settle everywhere on the eyelashes and eye brows, moustache and beards and make you look real funny. So we had some tea at Chandra Dhaba and off we rode through the dust.

The authorities do not allow any vehicle till the lake now and it had done the lake a world of good. It is a 45 minutes walk till the lake from the camp site and now the bank of the lake has less of those obnoxious plastic water bottle and other waste left behind by the tourists.

Camping out in the open was fun….I slept under a black canopy with a million stars for company;stars that seemed big and close enough to touch and woke up to an impossibly blue sky with not a speck of cloud on it.

On the way to Manali from Chandratal, we had two big stream crossing at Batal and at Gramphu that left us wet and shivering. And if this was not enough, we got stuck at that dirty, rotten, muck filled pass called Rothang.

After an incredible 9 days with Incredible Spiti, I suffered from a bad case of withdrawal symptoms as we hit Manali and the symptoms lasted for quite a few days.

Now I am at peace with the mountains…until they sound the call again!!!

Baratang excited me, not really for the swamp trails and limestone caves, but for two reasons, a live mud volcano and the drive through the Jarawa Tribal Reserve. The pre-morning twilight hues were still far away, the stars were strikingly clear and sleepy trails of speedy vehicles dotted the road. After more than an hour of narrow bumpy travel from Port Blair, I was greeted by a long convoy ready to detour into the deep wild. The Great Andaman Trunk road, the artery of Andaman’s transport system passed through this very thick forest, the legal home of the Jarawas.

Meanwhile during the long wait of nearly two hours, I obnoxiously relished the fresh air, green skylines and the rising sun which I miss in Delhi. By eight, the convey under strict vigilance of police began to crawl disappearing somewhere into the jungle. We all were given a statutory warning by securities to abide by certain rules while passing through the forest- no clicking, no shooting, and no offering food to Jarawas and no overtaking any vehicles.

The habitation of Jarawas’ was an entity with pristine abode of untouched vegetation resembling a typical rain forest. I could not get a whiff of any existing civilization. There was no sight of any homestead and nature was untamed. But after a few miles, as the highway began to twist and turn I could get a fleeting glance of a Jarawa couple; the man held a rudimentary spear and a woman walked beside him with poise. They listlessly walked passed the convoys as if in oblivion. Their slow and slight gleam on faces looked blissful. Dressed traditionally, they walked engrossed in some sort of conversation. At a short distance away a wandering girl stood beside the road with a hand on her hip wearing a thick yellow garland customarily made from the young pale yellow leaves and as I glanced at her, she looked brilliantly yellow. The dresses worn by the couples were made of red fabric and tied as girdles. The man had a red band on his short trimmed hair. According to their tradition, Jarawas adorn themselves with shells, clay, flowers, leaves, cotton threads or wools. The women folks collect flowers, colourful leaves and make fibers from the barks which are worn as dresses. Women sometimes adorned themselves with thick garlands that usually cover their upper part of body.

Photograph of Jarawa tribe taken from a wall picture from a museum in Port Blair.

A few more kms away a young lonely girl walked least fearful of the thick jungles. She was young beautiful, had wide eyes and her short hair was adorned with red colored traditional band. Her brisk, sturdy steps with discontinuous gaze were hinted towards some destination nearby. Quite a distant away, two well fed toddlers played beside the road unaware of the vehicles just like any 3 years old would. Their mother on the other side of the road cautiously waved and gestured not to cross the road uttering something in short gasps.

As we traveled through the forest, groups of Jarawas were sighted occasionally. A bunch of young Jarawa males dressed only in loose cotton shorts waved and whistled like rustic football players in wild. The young lads coming to their age carried bows and arrows moved in groups harmlessly. Some boys had painted face which almost camouflaged their facial structure. The patterns were linear, and bore criss – cross lines. Probably the designs were made with free hand. These two different groups were from different age groups. Perhaps they live in their community that way, as I read somewhere, that when boys reach the age of six, they do not share the sleeping space with their parents and stay together with other bachelors until marriage.

By this time I had a mix feeling about the development of these aborigines. The jungle in near future will no longer protect them and sustain their bare necessities of every day requirements. The standby road rollers, some workers, the sight of policemen at some places seem to be no longer alien. The road rollers were ready for some work in progress activity. A medical ambulance strictly mentioned “On Jarawa duty” passed us. To the inhabitants of the forest, it was a regular scene and has become a part of their daily affair. Somewhere on a small hill top I could see tiny toddlers huddled up, could be a sort of crèche in a community living culture. By then, I could get an outline of this primitive tribe.

The recent mayhem on Jarawas has pulled world wide attention on their abusiveness treatment Perhaps the Jarawas are ready to shed their old feelings and beliefs away, perhaps they want to take inquisitive plunge into the world unknown. They have become less hostile I hear, have even ventured out to the nearby settlements. But to me, the Jarawa Tribal Reserve, seems to be slowly dissipating and it’s inhabitants show signs of acculturation. Although very less and limited is known about Jarawas, their dwindling population is a matter of concern. The Census of India featured their population at 240 or could they remain contactless. As the stories of development goes on, my thought goes back to the girl whom I saw in my return journey, a young teenage girl dressed in floral yellow with a feathery glittering headgear was trying to get closer look inside the halted vans. I could see her face. She seemed to be different! 

Traditional Jewelry Of Assam

  Assam’s tradition of making jewelry dates back to many centuries. In medieval Assam during the reign of the Ahom dynasty the manufacture of gold ornaments was a flourishing business. Gold dust was abundantly found in the sands of different rivers of the state. Gold-washing on the banks of the Subansiri was a major profession of the Sonowal Kacharis. Subansiri which means “flow of gold” is one of the major tributaries of the Brahmaputra. In olden times the different metals and materials used for the making of ornaments were gold, silver, copper, brass, bronze, amber, rhinoceros’ horns and ivory.

Dugdugi

While most of the designs depict flora and fauna of the region some are inspired by elements of Assam’s culture .Each piece has a name which describes and indicates the shape and decorative work done on it .Many of the designs are exclusive to this state only.

Royal jewelry

  Over the centuries the three major hubs of traditional jewelery making are Nagaon (Rontholi ),Jorhat (Sonarigaon) and Barpeta. There are three different ways by which the jewelery is manufactured .In first method the main jewelery frame is made with pure gold and lac is used as a filling material. The second style has the basic frame in pure silver which is further covered with handmade gold foil also known as leaf gold /pat gold. The joints are made with the help of a mixture called Pine which is a mixture of silver and copper at a proportion of 6:1 .Previously enameling on gold was mainly done at Jorhat. The enamel is mainly of three kinds, a dark blue, dark green and white .Beads or Bakhars are too used in these jewelries.

gold foil

Some of the most popular designs are shown here .This piece below is called Lokapar which is an ornament with two sets of twin pigeons placed back to back in gold, mina or ruby .It was originally worn by high profile dignitaries of the royal Ahom dynasty.

lokapar

This is Junbiri which depicts the shape of the crescent moon.The other ornaments worn on neck are Dhol Biri, Silikha Madali, Gejera, Bana, Dokmala, Kathal Kuhia Madali, Dugdugi, Sonar Har, Dhari, Biri. The named ornaments except for Japhar Madali and Gejera were worn previously by both by male and female.

junbiri

The ornaments such as Galakantha Chandra Har, Rupadhar, Galpata, Pechhandar, Kesuluria Har, Kautha Sobha, Gajamati har were put on as necklace by women only.

Lokapara, Lang Keru, Thuria, Dighal keru, Bakharna Keru, Uka keru, Titakaria keru, Jangphai keru, Kanthasa, karnaphul are the names of some of the ear ornaments.

Gam-Kharus are broad bracelets with clasps previously worn by the males only but now very popular amongst females. There were other bracelets such as Epatiabala, Dopatia bala, Muthi, Satjuri Muthi, Sonkhatowa Kharu, Rupar Kharu, Eptia magar Khatowa bala, Uka Kharu, Chheo etc. The rings of various designs were Jethineguri Angathi, Patia Angathi, Babari phulia Angathi etc.

japi

  Presently in Assam  traditional jewelery is gaining popularity by the day and they are in very high demand now because of their aesthetic beauty and unique designs. This traditional art is attracting more youth in the state to take up jewelery-making as a profitable profession which is an encouraging sign for the economy of the state. Hope that these exquisite and unique jewelery of Assam gains popularity outside the state too and occupy a place of pride in its possessor.

 Images : clicked by Kavita Sahariya. at Mrigakshi Showroom Guwahati
Info: post is based on conversation with Mrigakshi Bora the owner and jewelery designer at Mrigakshi.

Nagaland has always been touted as the Land Of Festivals…and now they have a brand new catch phrase – “Festival Of Festivals” as the state machinery referred to the annual Hornbill Festival held from 1^st to 7^th December.

The Hornbill Festival, held at the Kisama Heritage Village, certainly is a fest for the eyes – a riot of colours and costumes. Nagaland has an amazingly colourful culture and unique tradition…and this, coupled with a sense of the exotic and mysterious, draws in the crowd by the hordes especially during the Hornbill Festival.

What had initially started as a five day event 11 years back, has now graduated into a seven day event….and by the look of it this year, it has all the potential to grow into an even bigger event.

Not for nothing is Nagaland called “The Land Of Festivals”. There are 16 major tribes and numerous sub tribes in the state and every month one tribe or the other celebrates its festival.

The Hornbill Festival brings all the tribes of the state under one umbrella to showcase their rich culture and tradition. Of course the rituals are not as elaborate or as spontaneous as those held at the villages and at particular times of the year where the whole village participates in the rituals. But the Hornbill Festival lets you see the festivals and customs of the different tribes through a very wide window indeed.

Don’t get me wrong when I say that the rituals are not spontaneous. They are performed with a great deal of zest and pride. As Mr Yitachu, Parliamentary Secretary, Tourism, explained, “…a particular village that performs at the Festival might get its next chance after about 40 or 50 years and some even more. Each tribe is represented by a particular village each year and since the bigger tribes like the Ao and Angami have many villages, it would take a very long time indeed for a particular village to perform again at Kisama”. Many of the present day performers would not live to get the privilege to perform again at the festival and thus the pride.

The primary focus of the Hornbill Festival is to bring all the tribes of Nagaland in one platform and create a sense of unity among the different tribes and also to resurrect some of the culture and tradition that were dying a slow but sure death.

Although an overwhelming dances and rituals were based on agriculture and fertility, the warrior tribes like the Konyak, Chang, Yimchunger, Sema and a few other displayed some amazing war dances and head hunting rituals that were practiced in the days of yore…complete with log drum beating, mock fighting and torching of other villages.

The 2^nd day of the festival was meant for performers from the rest of the North Eastern states and what a fantastic show they put up throughout the day.

But if you think that the Hornbill Festival is all about dances and more dances…you are mistaken. There were ethnic Naga cuisine, exquisite handicraft and handloom, kids carnival, night bazaars, music – both traditional and contemporary, a superb show of fusion music comprising musicians from all the states of the North Eastern region, literary fest, fashion shows, beauty contest and fun events like climbing a greased bamboo pole, pork fat and Naga King Chilli eating contests which saw a whole lot of contestants crying “FIRE”!!

Stalls with Naga cuisine drew crowds like moths to fire. The lifting of the Protected Area Permits for foreigners resulted in a huge number of western tourists flocking to the Heritage Village and making a beeline to the ethnic food stall. Never mind the fire chilly, they had the sweet rice beer to wash it down!!!

Music is an integral part of Naga culture and the Rock Contest held as part of the festival was a huge draw. The contest, held by the Music Task Force set up by the Government to promote music in the state, is probably one of the biggest, if not the biggest, of its kind in the country. I am sure the bands didn’t mind the freezing cold as they performed under the open skies for the top prize of Rs 5 lakhs!

The other big draw was the Peace Rally to commemorate the battle of Kohima. The WWII Jeeps and their crew on period costumes drew in a lot of crowd. The Chief Minister Mr Neiphiu Rio in one of the jeeps led the rally. I guess his security guards must have had the jitters because the participants including the all women team, were carrying period guns and one could hardly make out the difference between the real and a fake gun!!

Seven days were over in a flash and the finale was a grand affair with each tribe lighting a bonfire. As the sun dipped over the hills at Kisama, the bonfire lit up the arena and the skies were filled with the war cries of the tribes as they all danced around the fire.

“Till next year” they said and by the look of it, it certainly is going to be a tourist magnet…definitely, a bigger magnet!

   You can read rest of the articles from the Chain reaction series here

Text: Shahwar Hussain

Photographs: Anuj Singh

It is still not the height of summer but already the heat is unbearable in the plains and more so in Delhi, what with its concrete jungle and smog. I was itching to take a trip to the hills to enjoy the sights and the winding roads. But to get out of Delhi and on to the hills, I had to travel a considerable distance through the plains. Boring, hot, dusty, congested plains. And that’s what I dread, but the lure of the hills is a dangerous thing and it just keeps getting stronger.

I have been to Mussoorie but never beyond and that was a long time back. I have heard that once you cross Mussoorie, the traffic progressively gets thinner and an easy ride up the hills can be very satisfying. What better motorcycle than the Thunderbird, the cruiser bike from Royal Enfield. With its low seating position and high handlebars, it makes for a typical long distance bike.

The route that we had planned was almost 1500 km long and we had to prepare the bike accordingly. Nothing much mechanically, since the engine was perfect but we did need to change the brake shoes. Brakes are something that you simply can’t compromise with. We also fitted in two racks at the rear for our bags and they made our life much easier. The frames were of the smaller variety. All the better, because, with photographer Anuj Singh as pillion rider, it made riding on unpaved steep gradients rather dangerous. He weighs 90 kilos and I, a mere 60 kilos. Coupled with the weight of the luggage, the rear section became a little too heavy. I had to let him ride on a lot of the gravel section. He is not really overweight, just slightly healthy, as he loves to say.

We started out at about 8 o’clock in the morning, a day after the elections in Delhi. A mistake. Even though the roads were relatively empty, the sun was unforgiving. We should have started out at least three hours earlier.

By the time we reached Moradabad, the sun was shining in all its glory. By late afternoon we reached Mohand from where the road starts a gradual incline. There are huge Saal trees on either side of the road as it runs alongside the impressive Rajaji National Park. By this time the two fried brains were in no position to enjoy the beautiful sights. We did that on the way back.

Gradually as the road started winding up, we began to enjoy the ride. All along the way we rode with the headlight on for better visibility to oncoming traffic.

A few kilometers before Dehradun we came across a tunnel, and as we entered its dark recesses, we started cursing the bike’s headlight. The high beam indicator flashed on the instrument panel but we could not see any beam up front. Lousy light, we concluded. A few seconds later we realised we had our dark glasses on! That’s what the sun does to your brain. Beware!

Dehradun was crowded as usual and more so in the evening. So after a light snack we decided to push on straight to Mussoorie. The 34-km ride to Mussoorie with numerous hairpin bends is delightful and even though it generally takes an hour to reach, we managed in all of three hours. Ride slowly and you can’t help but stop along the way to admire the beautiful landscape. The cool mountain air takes away all your tiredness.

Mussoorie is alive and happening at night and because of the heat in the plains, the place was teeming with domestic tourists with a few Israelis thrown in. Mussoorie was once called the Queen of Hills and although the gleam has faded a bit, it is still worth a visit. I am sure most motorcycle tourers (including me) would like to avoid the usual tourist places and instead look for offbeat locations that offer fantastic rides and views. There are also lesser tourists in these places.

The Mall Road in Mussoorie is where all the activities are. It is so crowded that you would feel claustrophobic in no time. Motorists have to pay a toll to enter the area. Just as well, makes it less chaotic. We found the Mall highly avoidable and so after a heavy breakfast we set out for Mori. We thought we would never make it because we stopped ever so frequently to soak in the beauty and shoot pictures.

Just out of Mussoorie, the road dips dramatically all the way to Yamuna Bridge. 10 km out of Mussoorie we came across the Himalayan Adventure Institute that offers courses on a variety of activities, ranging in duration from three days to three months. The charges are reasonable too. One of the activities posted on the signboard at the entrance mentioned shooting, among other things. But we were rather disappointed when told that there were only .22 air rifles. Anyway, we tried our hand at rock climbing on an artificial rock face. It was fun but I realised it calls for a high level of fitness.

As we made our way towards Kempty Falls, traffic gradually increased. Kempty Falls was rather empty of character and water but it certainly was full of tourists. The plunge continues till Yamuna Bridge, at a distance of 12 km from Kempty falls, and then starts a steep climb. Here the Yamuna flows out of the mountain into the terai region.

The sight of water bodies soothed our state of mind. We took a right turn from the bridge and 12 km later we reached Nainbagh, a small, rather insignificant town. A left turn from Nainbagh ultimately leads to Yamunotri and that’s where most of the pilgrims were headed.

The hills in this region are rocky and barren with little vegetation. They seemed fragile but the ride was hugely satisfying. The sight of the Yamuna flowing below was awesome at times. 30 km out of Nainbagh we took a diversion that leads to the historical village of Lakha Mandal. Here Duryodhan built a house of lac where he planned to burn the Pandavas. The village is protected by the ASI and has some amazing temples and artifacts from the time of the Mahabharat. There are still some families here who practice polyandry but the practice is on a decline. We reached Naugaon after sundown and the first thing that we did was tank up. Naugaon has the last petrol pump for a very long way and there are none on the route through Chakrata till Mussoorie that we planned to take.

For a small town, Naugaon has an unusually high concentration of guest houses. I wondered why, until I was told that this was a stopover for pilgrims on their way to Yamunotri. The lodge where we stayed was cheap, clean and friendly but the only grouse I had was the beds which were too small. Half my legs hung out and that sure is not a very comfortable way to sleep.

The vegetation gradually starts to change and from Purola onwards deodar trees cover the slopes and the air gets progressively cool. The ride till Mori is one of the finest I have had in a long time. As we neared Mori we could see the Tons river gushing down below. Mori is the only place in India where Duryodhan is worshipped.

Anuj had a mild case of food poisoning and so we decided to stay at Mori. We met an acquaintance, a forest ranger, and he arranged our stay at a forest guest house. Mori is such a beautiful place that I could have easily stayed a couple of days more but time was at a premium. The fresh air and wooded slopes are unspoiled as are the banks of the Tons river. The water looked so inviting that we couldn’t help but take a skinny dip. We should have taken our tents as there are some lovely camping sites here. Maybe, next time. At Mori you can go river rafting, cycling and trekking. Or you can simply become a recluse, do nothing in particular and just enjoy the place.

From Mori we took a left turn and reached Hanol, a Hindu religious place. Operators conduct river rafting both in Hanol and Tiuni, but pity, we could not step into a raft. From Tiuni we rode down to Chakrata, a distance of 77 km. There are some who will be disappointed by what Chakrata has to offer. It is not half as commercialised as Mussoorie but the ambience has to be soaked in. Chakrata was established 125 years ago by Colonel Hume of the British army. This small cantonment area is still in a time warp. The neat bungalows with their flowers, green hillsides and walks on the Mall, all give it a very colonial feel. Chakrata houses a regiment of the army’s special force and perhaps this is one reason why the place is so neat and clean. The terrain offers excellent training facilities to the Special Forces. We spent quite a few hours riding through the narrow roads and lanes and concluded that each new bend offers a view that seems better and grander than the previous one. This is one big advantage of taking a bike tour as it allows unlimited freedom to explore and discover at will. We wanted to spend a night at Chakrata but Anuj was not feeling particularly well and so we decided to push on to Mussoorie where he could see a doctor. Oh yes, we ran short of petrol because of our exploration exercises and had to buy fuel at Rs. 80 per litre. Expensive, yes, but at least we got it.

After Chakrata, the road winds down most of the way till it reaches Yamuna Bridge at a distance of 52 km. Although the road is black topped there are stretches with loose stones and on gradients these can be particularly dangerous. We did face some difficulty at places but overall the weight and the wide tyres of the Thunderbird saw us through.

We crossed Kempty Falls late in the evening and thankfully it was quite isolated. We checked in the hotel and after a bath strolled down to the Mall almost at closing time. We encountered a maverick salesman who managed to sell us some watches and a few knick-knacks. If we had lingered on a little more, I am sure he would have emptied our wallets.

The ride down to Dehradun was delightful with all those curves and the Thunderbird behaved impeccably all along. We lost our way in Dehradun and stumbled upon an antique shop with amazing stuff. I am usually able to resist the Goddess of Temptation much better these days but I succumbed and bought a very old table fan, made in the late 1800s for Rs. 1500. I wish I had the money to buy the other fan that ran on kerosene and had wooden blades.

So far it was fun riding in the hills but I dreaded riding through the hot and dusty highway from Dehradun to Delhi. To avoid the heat we started late evening but it is not a very wise thing to do. Truck drivers do not know the meaning of the dipper and maniacal Sumo drivers make riding a very risky proposition. But we did manage to reach home in one piece with a bagful of dust in our eyes.

No more highway riding at night.

Many moons ago when the forest had an abundance of wild animals and the trees grew thick and tall, Thrungsanwu and a few friends went to the forest on a hunt.  As is the practice, the hunters spread out to cover more ground. They had ventured into some virgin forest where no hunter had gone before. Thrungsanwu was cautiously following the fresh footprints of a bear which led to some dense vegetation. With his well used muzzle loading gun at the ready, he slowly crept through the dense undergrowth and the huge trees. All of a sudden he was out of the thick undergrowth and there in front of him stood a sheer rockface.

Thrungsanwu forgot all about the bear he was stalking and stood looking at the rock face. It was dotted with a huge number of bee hives. He has never seen such a large number of bee hives at one place before.

He sounded out to his hunting buddies. When they came, they stood and watched the rock and the bees…as amazed as Thrungsanwu.

That evening, Thrungsanwu stood before the village council and announced that he believed he is the first one from the village to have seen the bee hives. Since no one disputed his claim, he claimed the hives as his own. Ofcourse he would share some of the spoils with the friends who were with him and saw the hives also.

Thrungsanwu, who is from the Yimchunger tribe, hailed from the village of Mimi, in the district of Kiphire in Nagaland. As is the tradition, anyone who sights a bee hive first, becomes the owner of those hives and the ownership is passed down to the children. Thrungsanwu’s grandson, Mazho is now the owner of the hives and shares the honey and revenue with the decedents of his grandfather’s hunting buddies.

Rockbee harvesting was on a decline for the last 10 years and the villagers had all but given up the practice. Mimi is a far flung village, located on the borders of Myanmar and there is no proper transportation to the main cities of the state. It is near about 400 kms away from the state capital of Kohima. The honey they procure from the hives had no outlet for sale and did not generate any revenue for the villagers.

The Nagaland Beekeeping and Honey Mission, with the support of Navajbai Ratan Tata Trust (NRTT) have been working for the last few years now to revive this dying tradition.  And the results have been very encouraging indeed.  NRTT provided funds for capacity building exercise, skill upgradation of the harvesters, tools, equipment and storage containers.

The process of harvesting the honey is fraught with danger. I was as amazed, as the young Thrungsanwu must have been, by the sheer rockface.  The rock protruded out of the ground vertically to about a height of 300 meters and was dotted with 85 huge bee hives.  And all the hives were on the top half of the rock.

I stood a little distance away from the rock, armoured against the swarming bees with a thick jacket and a mesh face protect hat net. As I watched, the villagers from Mimi lit the fires at the base of the rock and the buzz of the Giant Himalayan Rockbees  (Apis Laboriosa)  got louder as the smoke drove them out from the hives.  We were lucky that the wind was just right and the smoke drifted up to the hives. A slight change in the wind pattern would have driven the bees to where we were standing and that sure would have been a rather painful evening!

The Honey Mission had supplied the villagers with helicopter ladders and other safety gears but other than a few net hats, nothing else was used. They preferred to stick to their traditional ways which are not necessarily the safest or the best result oriented. But it is hard to break away from age old tradition.

A group of singing men appeared at the base of the rock pulling a very long ladder made of jungle vines and bamboo and it made its way up to the very top of the rock.  A man started descending through the swinging ladder carrying a couple of indigenous tools. One was a spade like tool to cut off the hive from the rock and the other was a torch to smoke out the bees. They had long handles and the man handled them with amazing dexterity even while hanging 300 meters above the ground. All the safety measures that the man had were the prayers on his lips.  And they seem to work too as they have had no causalities over the years!

A bucket was lowered from the top and the man on the ladder began cutting off the hives into the bucket.  With a million bees swarming all over him, it certainly was an extremely difficult task.  A lot of the honey goes to waste because of the impossible angles that the hives are built on.  Many of the hives cannot be reached at all. Two harvesters also climbed up from below and collected the hives from an overhang which would have been impossible for the man on the ladder to reach.

The number of hives and the amount of honey they produce depends a lot on the climatic conditions. There were 64 hives last year compared to the 85 hives this year.  On an average, each hive produces 8 to 10 kilos of honey and it takes three days to harvest the all the hives. Some modern methods of squeezing out of the hives would have yielded better results. As of now, the method is traditional. The hives are placed on an inclined platform of banana leaves with a funnel at the end where a bamboo strainer is placed to keep the bees from going in to the container.

The Nagaland Rockbee and Honey Mission buys off the honey from the villagers at the market price thus encouraging them to harvest more and in a better way. The harvesting is done twice a year from this rock. There are reports of many other rockbee colonies in the forest of the village and also inside Myanmar but they are too deep into the forest and the villagers just let them be…for now.

The drive from Pungro to Mini is very interesting. At some stretches, tall grass and trees form a canopy over the road…almost like a tunnel. The road passes through meadows and hills with pine trees standing against a clear blue sky with puffs of white clouds.  There are steep drops on the side and beyond are the virgin forests right up to the Myanmar border. And it is off-road all the way.

Mimi itself is an interesting village. There are a couple of huge caves that would bring an ear to ear grin to any adventurer’s face. The steep drop to the caves is tiring indeed and if one wants to explore the cave in true earnest, it would take at least a couple of days of camping. The forests of Mimi have animals like hollock gibbon, bear, deer, a huge variety of birds and other small animals.   I head the gibbons far away during a walk through the forest with a couple of very informative villagers but I certainly didn’t see them. They said there were 8 of them.

The old ladies of Mimi makes lovely potteries and they do not use the wheel. They beat the clay with a flat wooden plank and make potteries of all sizes – large ones to store rice or rice beer and the smallest ones for chutney! They make intricate smoking pipes too.

Only women of the village make the potteries and there is a traditionally compelling reason why.  What the men folk bring from a hunt are cooked in the pots the women make. If the men stayed at home to make pots, the family would go hungry.

Now the pots, inscribed “Made In Mimi” are filled with honey.

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Quick facts

• Air India operates daily flights from Delhi to Dimapur. Dimapur to Kohima is 78 kms. From Kohima, it is a day’s journey by an SUV to Pungro. The next day, you will have to take another 3 hour journey to teach Mimi Village.
• It is necessary to travel on a SUV like Bolero or Scorpio and preferably with a 4×4 option because you would be travelling through a lot of bad roads. A lot of new roads are being built and hence the bad surface

• The harvesting takes place twice a year. In May-June and in mid October. A lot depends on the climatic condition. The villagers check the hives regularly during this time to ascertain the time of harvesting.

• In Mimi, you can also go caving and go for some short  treks in the forest.

Before you start reading this, I should probably warn you that this is *not* a traveler’s guide. No, Sir. If you wish to read a traveler’s guide you should befriend our very dear Google. There isn’t much about Singapore that isn’t already floating about in the whole world wide web, so I don’t really want to venture into those waters. What I want to do here is simply put into words everything that I noticed and felt and remembered in the ten days that I spent in that place as a visitor.

I had heard a lot, of course. Read a lot too. But nothing had prepared me for the awe I felt the moment I landed in that beautiful airport. Any practical person would have fully utilized the duty free shops that sold goodies for a much, much cheaper rate than inside the country, but 8.30 in the morning after a sleepless overnight flight didn’t quite appeal to impulsive shopper in me. The duty free shops are specially known for perfumes, liquor and chocolates, and sometimes the price difference could be quite significant. There are regulations regarding the amount of liquor per passport holder, just so people don’t obviously go overboard. For the record, I did exploit the duty free shops. Before my flight from Singapore to Hanoi, that is. I took my own sweet time picking and choosing the right perfume and ended up having to rush to catch my flight. But that is a whole different story.

Now you see why I call this a visitor’s guide and not a traveler’s guide. Being one of those fortunate ones who have relatives living in Singapore (meaning you don’t have to shell out big money to stay in one of the hotels) I am unable to give you details about the “where to stay” in Singapore. So the brand new husband and I took a cab and straightaway went to my sister’s place. Which reminds me of this poster I saw in the airport itself, and the strong message in it that even my sleep deprived mind registered : “When in Singapore, call your cab-driver Uncle. It is considered good manners to do so”. Cab drivers, at least the ones I encountered, are friendly, and love to talk. One cab driver, I remember, actually told us the story of his life in our twenty-minute drive, and even made sure we got the moral of the story in the end. Cab rates out there are on the expensive side because Singapore believes in public transport, so it is more practical to get the hang of the buses and the LRTs and the MRTs while in Singapore, as early as you can.

Most LRT and MRT stations are situated near popular malls for convenience. I mean, seriously, convenience should be the alternate name for Singapore. I bet while structuring and planning the place, the only question them people had in mind was, “How can we make this more convenient for the people?” Even though there are slot machines where you can purchase one-trip tickets for the MRT, you can easily get an EZLink card made with a minimum charge of 12 SD, which will let you use any of the public transport facilities, including bus, LRTs and MRTs. In fact, for people visiting Singapore for just three-four days, there is an option to pay a fixed amount, and get unlimited access to all the transport services. Once you get the EzLink card made (they can be made in any MRT station), it is just about letting the machine scan your card at the station you travel from, and then once when you get off at your destination. The fare will be deducted without you having to calculate any of it. Now this might not sound very impressive but I was pretty impressed with how you don’t even have to take the card out of your wallet or purse for the machine to scan it. I had even seen a lady place her entire bag on the machine for her card to be scanned. Simple, eh? No more digging into the purse for the elusive card that always manages to escape your searching fingers. Don’t we all hate it when that happens? Oh, just in case you were wondering what LRTs and MRTs are, to put it very simply, LRT (Light Rapid Transit) is like a mini bus with transparent walls, which runs on a track built high above the streets, so you can have an aerial view everything while traveling in it, and MRT (Mass Rapid Transit) is exactly like our metro trains which run underground. There are different MRT lines with different stations on them, and everything that you need to know about them is available in the stations itself. Bragging is not in my nature, you see, or else I would have told you about how I could figure out which line to take or if I had to change my line any where, on the second day itself and by the third day I could easily figure out my route from anywhere to anywhere in Singapore. But then, maybe it is not me. Maybe it is just the way Singapore is.

Another reason why this is not a traveler’s guide. I didn’t actually do any of the “tourist” stuff.  If you don’t count gawking at the spectacular night sky and gaping open-mouthed at the high rise buildings and all the twinkling lights, that is. The husband being old to Singapore and me being the newly married, we skipped the Singapore Flyer, the Jurong Bird Park and its famous night safari, Sentosa Island and the Universal Studios, and instead ran to the Ministry of Manpower office to get my dependent visa done. What we did indulge in, was a lot of mall hopping, because I was perpetually on the lookout for sales, and there is always some sort of sale or the other going on in some mall or the other! My sister being more “Sinapore-wise”, does add in a pearl of wisdom. It doesn’t make sense to buy anything in its full price out there, because it is just a matter of time when that will be on sale, too. And I fully agree. In case you want to make the most of the time you are there, I suggest mall-hopping and just ambling around with your eyes wide open. You are bound to find something or the other just waiting to fulfill your craving to shop.

Eating out is I guess the most convenient thing to do. Singaporeans by habit have all square meals in food courts, and I have to agree it makes sense, since nowhere else will you get such a variety of options for such a reasonable rate. You have different cuisines to choose from, thanks to the cosmopolitan crowd, although if you are like me you will end up having the same thing everyday because it is so consistently good! There are, obviously, places you can go to splurge, but eating out in a food court is more a way of life than an option out there.

There’s a lot to do with your time in Singapore. And even though I am no way near done exploring all the options, I do know that Clarke Quay is one of those uber cool places you want to check out if you want to feel the pulse of Singapore nightlife. East Coast Park is an awesome way to spend a lazy Sunday, if all you want to do is lie down on the grass by the beach wrapped around a good book, and more so if you want to make amends for neglecting your exercise regimen over the week and go cycling or jogging out there (there are special tracks dedicated for cycling and skating). Little India and Farer Park with its famous Mustafa Shopping Center are the places you want to go just in case you miss India. And Arab Street with its narrow streets and Bollywood music blasting from speakers is the place you want to go if you find all the swanky and glitzy a little monotonous.  But how, you may ask, does the swanky and glitzy become monotonous? You know how it is when you see a perfectly groomed woman, with not a strand of  hair out of place, her hands and feet perfectly manicured, her perfume just right, and her make-up flawless? And you know how it is when she smiles and her smile reveals her even teeth but doesn’t quite reach her eyes? That’s exactly what Singapore felt like to me, and I’m being blatant here. This might be the Indian in me, but after a while it all started feeling a little too system-dependent. Or maybe I am just used to the “beautifully imperfect” and the adjustments we make to wrap our lives around the lack of discipline in India.

But you know what my favorite bit about Singapore is? Everything is so freaking easy! I mean, for somebody who’s been brought up in India, where crossing a road in most cities means holding you life in your hands and sending desperate prayers up above so you reach the other side of the road in one piece, being able to cross the road at the touch of a button (yes, a button!) is unbelievable. Even while going down the escalator, people who are “chilling” are supposed to stand on the left side of the escalator to make way for the ones who want to rush past (this mostly happens if the escalator leads to an MRT station) so there’s no jostling and nudging around. There are a number of seats reserved for the elderly, women with kids and expecting mothers  and the injured, in every coach of the MRT trains. And for a change, people actually live by these guidelines.

In case you are bored even of Singapore, there are many places you can escape to for the weekend. Indonesia is just a few hours away, and there are islands like Bintan and Batam that you can travel to even by ferry. We did actually visit Bintan, so I can tell you that it was two hours by ferry and another forty-five minutes to the resort where we stayed for the weekend. But more on that in the next issue. So keep watching this space for more “visiting” stories (not traveling ones, I emphasize yet again) and if you have any queries regarding the technicalities of visiting Singapore, and are *not* looking for poems in rhyme about the beauty and grace of Singapore, do contact me. I will be happy to help.

Fried Eye note- You can read the other episodes of Shahwar’s Chain Reaction  here .

The man in the trench coat with the weather beaten face was oblivious to the gaze of over a hundred pairs of eyes fixed on him.  The well worn trench coat seemed a little out of place in mid February, but he couldn’t care less. He was lost in his music as he played an indigenous two string musical instrument and sang his own version of Bhupen Hazarika’s “Moi Ati Jajabor”.

He sang in a soulful manner – his stage was the roof of a jam packed ferry in the middle of Brahmaputra river early in the morning and the audience were the everyday commuters and a few Europeans tourists.

We were crossing the Brahmaputra River to get to Majuli Island. The island is a World Heritage site in Assam and is the largest river island in Asia. The island is indeed unique with its own culture and tradition. But getting to the island is another unique experience in itself! My two friends – Alex, Anuj and I, rode our fully loaded motorcycles into the ferry through a thick plank of wood.

We were early and had the ferry to ourselves but in the next hour it filled up to the brim. Two SUVs took up most of the space in the deck and the crew started shifting some of the 50 odd bikes to the roof of the ferry! A cart load of TV sets came in as did some more large bundles meant for the shops on the island. And the final passengers in the ferry were a herd of goats and a few cows! There was an elephant on the bank of the river and I half expected that to come in too!!

Even in mid February, when the water level of the Bhramaputra is low…we still couldn’t see the other side of the huge river. It takes 2 hours to get to the island and after an hour or so, the tea vendor did the rounds, serving black tea in tiny plastic cups with too much sugar on it and an assortment of local biscuits that tasted wonderful. I wished the cups were a little bigger.

As the ferry docked, there was a mad rush to get off and the passengers ran towards the waiting buses and jeeps that would take them to the town across 10km of dusty road.

As we rode to town, we saw the man in the trench coat walking on the embankment, his army boots kicking up plumes of fine dust and he strummed on his stringed instrument and sang…still in his own world.

Majuli is the seat of Vaishnavite culture in Assam. There are some very old monasteries in the island. Some of them like the Dakhin Pat Satra and the Uttar Kamalabari  Satra were built somewhere during the 1500 and mid 1600 AD. The Auniati Monastery has an in-house museum. Like everywhere else, these monasteries also have an all pervading peaceful atmosphere and we ended up spending about three hours in one of the monasteries.

The other place we spent hours was at the Samuguri Satra to see the masks. Hem Chandra Goswami and his immediate ancestors have been making the masks for the last 100 years or so. These masks are used in the theatres that are held all over Assam and over the years, they have become better. All of us put the masks on to pose and boy, did we look weird!! The paper mesh masks with the moveable jaws make the theatre much more interesting.

Majuli seems to be losing the battle against the Bhramaputra as the river has eroded away a very large portion of the island over the years. The island had a total area of 1250 sq kms but now only about 500 sq kms remain.

But the river seem to have mercifully left alone an old women’s hut built right on the river bank. She is a potter and has an unique method of making the pottery. She does not use the usual wheel but beats the clay with a wooden plank to make it round. Very hard work indeed and I wonder how financially viable it is. The hard work to monetrty gain ratio seems to be very lopsided. 

The two nights in the Island were very relaxing…Everything moves at its own pace and you can’t hurry anything. The easy pace is such a pleasant change from the mad rush of the metros where everyone is in the rat race…..never realising that even if one win the race, one would still be a rat!

Although we checked in at Danny Gam’s beautiful bamboo house on stilts built in the traditional Missing tribal architecture, we spent the second night by the river in out tents. Except for the irregular crackling sound of the firewood and the rhythmic lapping of the river, there was an all encompassing silence. The river water sparkled like a thousand diamonds in the velvet night and as I looked up, I saw the stars punch a million holes in the dark canopy.

Across the river again. We had to cross a rather long and flimsy bamboo bridge and it sure was a little scary. Across the bridge was a little shed which was the toll booth (yes! We had to pay a toll of Rs 20 per bike!). The booth also doubles up as a joint selling local rice beer and at Rs10 for a quater bottle, it was cheap. Alex and Anuj suddenly decided that needed some beer to sooth their nerves after crossing the rickety bamboo bridge! They almost cleaned out the tiny shop off all the sweet beer.

We rode on till we came across a capsized ferry and then found that there weren’t any ferry plying to Lakhimpur. There were only small country boats plying across the narrowest part of the river and they looked rather unstable. The only other option was a 15 hour round trip which was not acceptable.

It was the scariest 30 minutes of my life! Since the bikes were heavily loaded, they couldn’t be laid down sideways and we had to sit on them and the boat rolled like a pendulum. Well, we made it to the other side and I swear, never again!  The 15 hour ride would have been much less stressful!

After about riding an hour through narrow village road, we hit a lovely highway at North Lakhimpur and made our way to Nameri Eco camp in Tezpur. The Eco camp is way off the main road and inside a village and it is just fantastic.

The river behind the Eco Camp draws a large number of anglers for the huge Masher and the jungle is a bird watcher’s delight. It seems that there are birders who have been visiting Nameri regularly for years to photograph a particular bird! Truck loads of patience they have!!

Early next morning we were at the police checkpoint at Bhalukpong, the border town between Assam and Arunachal Pradesh. Formalities of Inner Line Permits over, we push onwards to Dhirang – 145 kms away from the border.

It is just a bamboo barricade that separates the two states, but there is a world of difference. The topography changes immediately and drastically. The hills start almost immediately after the barricade and keep climbing. The plains of Assam had big trees and there were lots of grassland and cultivation while the hills of Arunachal were covered with dense forest.

It had rained the previous day and the freshly cut road was a total mess. Vehicles of all description were stuck and it resulted in a huge jam. And we were the worst off. In the shin deep mud, there was no way we could put on the side stand and so we carried on, slipping and slithering, till we came across some firm ground.

Thankfully we hit better roads and at Durga Mandir, the small tea shop beckoned. The priest at the mandir, who is from Bihar, got chatting with us and said he has been at the particular temple for more than 50 years! But surprisingly, in 50 years, he has not learnt to the local language fluently but his Hindi has been hilariously diluted…liberally sprinkled with local words.

The fog at Zero Point delayed us for 30 minutes. Visibility improved after some kilometres and from atop the Nag Mandir, the view was simply breathtaking. We swept down the lovely road to the cantonment town of Tenga, crossed the army areas and started climbing again towards Bomdila. It was close to sundown and we stayed at the Monastery Guest House at Bomdila, 45 kms short of Dirang. I avoid riding at night unless there is some pressing emergency and there was none.

Bomdila to Tawang is 180 kms and it is a long distance in such terrains and we still had the Sela Pass to cross. After a quick stop at the Dirang Dzong, we continued to ride. 20 kms after Dirang, the wind suddenly picked up and snowflakes started falling coupled with rain. I have ridden in snow before but the three of us have never been so miserable and cold in all our life!! The snow gradually got thicker and at Baishaki, it was simply impossible to go on. The army closed off the road for vehicular traffic and we had to return to Dirang and holed up at the Yak Research Centre guest house for two days.

When we moved again, we found everything was blindingly white and there was hardly any traffic on the route. At the top of Sela Pass, a woman runs a tea stall. In that howling wind at 13,700 ft, the hot tea and noodles tasted out of this world and filled us with warmth. We bid our goodbyes and started on our way down to Tawang. The Sela Lake had frozen over looked like an ice hockey rink.

Another 40 kms to Jung and we relied on some more cups of hot tea and smokes to keep us warm. The skies were turning dark again and we hurried on after some more tea at the War Memorial at Jaswant Garh.

Like in all other Buddhist town, a colourfully decorated gate welcomes us to the town. It is the time of the Losar festival and the locals sure were in a festive mood. HH The Dalai Lama is omnipresent. Almost every house and business establishment has a large framed picture of the Dalai Lama in a prominent place.

It started snowing again as we checked into the hotel and it snowed through the night. I have never seen the Tawang Monastery covered snow and for once, the bright yellow roofs were replaced with the powdery white of fresh snow.

A senior monk gave us a guided tour of the monastery the next day. It is said to be the biggest monastery after the Potala Palace in Lhasa. The museum contained relics from the 5^th Dalai Lama’s period and a huge elephant tusk….looked more like a mammoth’s tusk!!

We sat at the silent and empty prayer hall with a huge statue of the Buddha. The monk gave us cups of butter tea and we were discussing our planned departure the next day and how far and how fast we should travel. I looked up for a moment at the statue and I felt that Buddha was smiling at us. Good omen I thought.

That night it snowed heavily and completely blocked off everything. There was nothing we could do but sit tight. The bar tender of the hotel invited us over for dinner on the second night for some simple food peppered with much love.

We had wanted to go to Bumla but the snow ruled that out. When the road opened after three days, we crawled along with the rest of the convoy and covered 145 kms in 14 hours.

Laying in bed that night I realised, we were rather brash and pompous in declaring our schedule. We thought we could beat the bad weather at the Pass with our speed. I should have known better than to have pompous thoughts and plans like that!

The Buddha smiled at our brashness.

Once upon a time…

Shahwar Hussain and his riding buddies were lured by the natural beauty of Meghalaya and the wildlife of Assam… and so the story continued…

Words and pics :Shahwar Hussain

The helmet can be a furnace at times and years of riding long distances have resulted in a fried brain. And a fried brain results in short term amnesia (my theory!). Otherwise, how come I do not remember riding in North East India in pouring rain in the middle of November?  I should ride a little less during the summers to save my brain from getting fried beyond repair…

A few friends had come down from different parts of the country to ride through some parts of the North East with me…and now the rain was threatening to play a spoilsport.  But the skies held in the evening and we quickly made our way to Kamakhya Temple at Guwahati in Assam, arguably the most famous tantric temple in India, built in 1565 by the Koch Dynasty.  According to legends, the Goddess had cursed the Royal family and banned them from offering Puja in the temple. Over the centuries the ban held and no one from the royal family or their descendants has ever been to the temple.  The curse was strong and fearful enough to even compel the late Maharani Gayatri Devi, who also belonged to the Koch Dynasty, to look the other way while crossing the Kamakhya area!

The temple holds interest even for people who are not really into temples – the history, the structure, the tantric rites, the teeming pilgrims and the hill top location with an awesome view of the Brahmaputra River with its white sands.

A young priest approached us with an offer to take us inside the temple for prayers. He was rather persistent and convinced two of the guys to go in for prayers…Prayers for the road…that was good…but for me, I have a direct hotline with God.

Later as we sat on the bank and sipped tea, we saw the flaming red sun go down on the other side of the hills. The setting sun set the skies on fire and the reflection on the river was simply breathtaking…and in the middle of that mighty river, we saw one lonely boat ferrying its occupants to the other side. Twilight is a beautiful but also the loneliest time of the day.

Early the next day, we rode out for Meghalaya.  We started early to avoid those coal laden, black smoke bleaching land locomotives that we call trucks. There is massive road construction work going on in Meghalaya and the rain made certain sections a sea of mud.

We were on our way to the village of Mawlynnlong, a distance of around 180 kms from Guwahati. We gave Shillong a miss on our way up. The village is about 86 kms from Shillong and it is said to be the cleanest village in Asia. The friendly villagers take the tag of “Cleanest Village..” rather seriously and we could see little children casually picking up dry fallen leaves. There are dustbins all around and for the life of me, I wouldn’t be seen littering here.

We stayed at a lovely bamboo tree house. It was not Tarzan’s tree house exactly, but I was happy. Half of the house is in the tree and there is a lovely machan built completely on the tree.

Henry, the care taker, made some lovely chicken dish and we sat in the machan with a dim overhead bulb for company…The food was simply great and I am sure we ate some insects and flies too which were hovering overhead near the bulb…They sure added to the taste and no one complained! And all along we heard the river roaring down below…

We went the village the next day. There was a platform high up on a tree which they called “Sky View”. We paid a fee of Rs 10 to go up the bamboo pathway up to the platform to see the wide planes of Bangladesh.

The most amazing thing that we saw was the root bridge. No one knows the exact age of the bridge but from the accounts of the old villagers, it seems to be about 150 years old. Since the river gets very wild in the monsoon, the villagers had to take a very long detour to get to the other side. The villagers enclosed the young roots of a tree inside some bamboos and divert them to the other side of the river. Over the years, the roots grew through the bamboos and reached the other side and took roots there. Now it is a solid structure. There are quite a few living root bridges like this in the area and there is a double decker bridge too…A fantastic example of using nature for benefit without destroying it.

We left Mawlynnlong for Shillong before noon. The road till Shillong is an absolute dream…good enough for a Superbike. We passed through two gorges where the mist came rolling in twice and enveloped us completely. We stopped at a place called Mylliem and at a small shop with white lace curtains run by a mother and daughter duo. The shop has no name but they make the best beef balls in the whole wide world that simply melts in your mouth. My fellow riders almost cleaned out the entire shop and had only beef balls for dinner!!

Just before we reached Shillong, we spotted two lovely war era Willys Jeeps in mint condition. Shillong is a total Jeep country and many of them are WWII Willys and Ford jeeps. Most of them still have the original engines and in very good condition but they are becoming too expensive to run these days.

At Shillong we went for a small jamming session and the next day we left for Narthiang, about 55 kms from Shillong.  Narthiang has a UNESCO Heritage site and the place is littered with monoliths of all size and shape but the inscription does not say why all these monoliths were placed there. Back in Shillong, we took a tour of Bara Bazar in the afternoon. It is an amazing place and a photographer can exhaust any number of memory cards shooting the sights of this bazaar. This market is for traditional stuffs that people in Meghalaya have been using for ages-A ‘must visit’ kind of place.

Another night of jamming which went on till the small hours of the night! As expected, no one woke up early the next morning, but since we had to travel only about 120 kms and on relatively good roads,it was ok.

We started out at noon and slowly rode down towards the plains of Assam. Our next destination was Kaziranga National Park but since it was a long way off, we decided to spend the night at the Brahmaputra Jungle Resort. The resort is about 20 km out of Guwahati city and way off the highway. Even though the swimming pool was inviting, the November chill kept everyone out of it.

Kaziranga was 200 kilometers away and we reached there after about five and half hours of easy riding. The main entrance into the Kaziranga Park is at Kohora and there are number of hotels in the area – from the budget hotels to some really high end ones. But Kohora is also the most crowded entry gate to the park and we wanted to avoid the crowd.

Another 20 kms beyond Kohora, we turned left at a place called Bokahat and carried on for about 3 kms till the roads ended and the embankment began. Across the embankment is an eco camp run by Mr Khanjan Nath. The camp is set on a riverbed. During the summers, the Dhansiri River floods the area and the camp shuts down. It reopens only in the winters. The bamboo houses are built on stilts in the traditional style of the Mising tribe of Assam.

This place, miles away from the town, has no other construction near it as far as the eye can see, and is surrounded by the brilliant yellow of mustard plants in November and December. The generator runs till about 11pm and when the engine dies down, the silence becomes overpowering. Sitting by the bonfire with a million stars above is a fantastic feeling.

Early next morning amidst heavy fog, we went for an elephant safari at the Agaratoli  range on the eastern part of the Park. This range is relatively quiet and empty and the animal sightings are good. The elephant safari lasts for about 2 hours and takes the visitors where the jeeps simply wouldn’t go!!

The resident king of the park, the rhino, seemed very huge up close. We also saw a huge number of barking deer, herds of elephants, wild hogs, and a huge number of birds – some migratory and some local ones.

We were wondering why all the mahouts kept on staring at us, till we realised that we were dressed in bright motorcycling jackets and boots. Bright cloths should not be worn during a jungle safari. We were sticking out like a sore thumb.

The jeep safari after breakfast was longer and also interesting. In the evening, we visited a tea factory to see for ourselves the complex method of tea manufacturing.

At night we enjoyed the silence, bonfire and the stars above…

And I realised why I didn’t remember about the November rain…because  there weren’t any before. At least I didn’t face any when I toured in November in previous years.

Good…it is not amnesia after all!…or is it?