The Quest, Part V: The Treasure at Last

On the summit of Logodama hill, under the lonely pine tree, Bhuvan gets yet another message in verse.

A hundred years, I’ve been waiting still,

The lonely pine on a lonely hill,

For souls that have but lost their way,

Far removed by time’s sway;

To make them meet is my sacred task;

Whatever it takes and what price it asks.

Now that you are here at last,

Take a vow that you’ll hold fast.

And then -

“That’s all? All that talk of treasures and destiny, comes down to this?”

Unable to make head or tail out of the last set of verses, Bhuvan sits down with his back rested against the blue pine tree, tired and confused. Convinced that he has been set up for a wild goose chase all morning, he laughs out aloud. Closing his eyes he tries to feel the cool mountain breeze on his face. The whispering sound of the wind sounds like a symphony of a thousand sighs.

A soft hand on his shoulder brings him out of his trance. Mr. Phillips has left the classroom. School is over for today. Most of the guys have left the classroom. Some are still packing up.

He turns his head around and is stupefied to see Kalpana looking curiously at him. Kalpana is a parallel entry from another school. She has enrolled in Bhuvan’s class just a couple of weeks back.

She removes her hand from his shoulder and with a kind smile on her face asks, “Aren't you coming home?”

Tongue tied by this unforeseen development Bhuvan stutters, “Yes yes, I am, of course.”

Kalpana takes an unruly lock of hair and disciplines it behind her ears. Then she looks at Bhuvan with big eyes and enquires, “Do you mind if I walk with you?”

“No, not at all.” mutters Bhuvan feeling abashed.

Bhuvan packs his satchel and walks out of the class, with Kalpana by his side. They walk silently past the corridor, down the flight of stairs, across the assembly ground towards the school gate.

Bhuvan is unable to comprehend how all of a sudden he was in the class. Was he dreaming then all about the treasure and the quest? Or is this one a dream- Kalpana asking to walk home with him? Even in this confusion, he senses that the girl beside him is looking at him with curiosity. He looks at her for an instant and as their eyes meet, finds her expressive eyes and her puckered lips exhibit amusement. But it is not the amusement of the cruel sort that he is used to seeing. This amusement is wrapped in a kind layer of understanding. Bhuvan drags his eyes away from her’s.

As they approach the school gate, something catches Bhuvan’s attention. It is a pink scarf fluttering from the branch of a willow tree.

“Do you mind waiting here for a minute?” Bhuvan asks Kalpana.

“No, what is it?” She asks lifting one of her eyes quizzically.

“I'll be with you in a jiffy,” says Bhuvan as he takes off.

There's a pink envelope wrapped in the folds of the pink silk scarf. As he draws the envelope out of the folds he notices it has no name and no address. He opens the envelope and finds a neatly folded piece of handmade paper inside. He unfolds the paper and reads.

Aeons ago, two souls did wander,

By providence, were thrown asunder.

This day they meet as God has willed,

As bounteous harvest, for faith fulfilled.

By magic beneath the solitary tree

Their worlds shall meet, was fate’s decree.

Today they meet as the stars foretold,

Two hands for each other to hold.

Bhuvan folds the paper and puts it into his pocket. He is convinced he is still in a dream. Inside his pocket Bhuvan’s fingers encounter something familiar. He wraps his fingers around it and draws it out. It is a bunch of four neatly folded pieces of handmade paper with the verses that have been driving him across the valley all morning. This is surreal; Bhuvan is unable to find his actual bearings; he is literally in a daze.

As he approaches Kalpana, she asks of him, “What did you find?”

“Ah! Nothing of much worth.“  Bhuvan shrugs and they start walking side by side.

After a moment of silence she asks “Do you believe in magic?”

Rolling his eyes in bewilderment, Bhuvan looks at her dumbfounded and says, “Yeah, I guess so.”

She looks at the funny expression on his face, throws her head back and breaks out into a laugh.

Bhuvan looks at her mirthful countenance and something in it strikes as very familiar, maybe something from the past, or maybe it is just a feeling.

As her laughter subsides, Kalpana looks into Bhuvan’s eyes and extending her hand towards him she says, “I am new to this town; I don’t know anyone here as yet. Will you be my friend Bhuvan?”

This is a story written in five parts. For going on to Part IV, click on the link - The Lonely Pine

For Part I - Daydreamer

Part II - The Silk Route

Part III - On Black Rock Mountain

The Quest, Part IV: The Lonely Pine

In a shocking development, a blue scarf and a cairn appears out of the thin air and spooks out Bhuvan. He gets another message on the Black rock mountain.

Through all your efforts you ensure

Your heart’s desire, one that’s pure

The treasure that, for you is meant

Smolders within thoughts deepest pent

Your heart of gold shall fetch the prize

Like a phoenix born, so you shall rise.

Upon the hill where the lone pine stands,

Is the purple patch your soul demands.

Thenceforward -

It’s yet another clue. Just like with the previous clues, Bhuvan is unable to comprehend the purport of the first six lines. What can this great treasure be, that deep inside his heart he longs for? He tries to mull over the lines. But no, he doesn’t understand what treasure the message is implying. He folds the paper and puts it into his pocket. The last two lines indicate a hill that has a solitary pine tree. Without any doubt it is Logodama hill that is referred to. Logodama hill is on the other side of the Mochhu river. It is one of his favorite places in the valley. Whenever he is sad or depressed, this is the place he goes to for resting all his worries.

“Upon the hill where the lone pine stands, is the purple patch your soul demands.”

“A purple patch can mean good fortune, or it could be yet another clue maybe indicated by purple color.” He surmises. The only way to find out is to go to Logodama hill.

Spooked by the turn of events, he wishes to get out of this place quick. Bhuvan starts to descend from the Black rock mountain. He comes bounding down the mule track and quickly descends on to the tar road. Half a mile down the tar road, he gets off onto a dirt track and races down to where the villagers have constructed a temporary wooden bridge across the river. He crosses the rickety little bridge in a minute and is on the other side of the river. From there he races half a mile to the bottom of the Logodama hill and starts climbing the hill using a well trodden mule track. In another fifteen minutes he is standing at the summit of the Logodama, huffing and puffing from exertion. He throws himself on a grassy patch, completely fatigued and lies there for sometime before he can pull himself up.

There is absolutely nothing on the summit except for the solitary blue pine tree and he himself. The only other presence is that of the whistling breeze and the faraway sound of tolling bells it is carrying. He sits down under the blue pine tree and keeps his eye open for anything unusual. But soon the exertion takes its toll and he starts to doze off. The sound of a jangling bell up close shakes him out of slumber. He awakens to find, right in front of him, ten meters away, a scarf of purple silk fluttering in the wind. By this time, he is used to such ghostly events.

A carefully constructed cairn holds the scarf in place. As usual there is another envelope under the pile of rocks. He takes the purple envelope, opens it and takes out a folded piece of handmade paper. The message says,

A hundred years, I’ve been waiting still,

The lonely pine on a lonely hill,

For souls that have but lost their way,

Far removed by time’s sway;

To make them meet is my sacred task;

Whatever it takes, what price it asks.

Now that you are here at last,

Take a vow that you’ll hold fast.

This is a story written in five parts. For going on to Part III, click on the link - On Black Rock Mountain 
For Part I - Daydreamer
For Part II  - The Silk Route

For Part V - The Treasure At Last 

The Quest, Part III: On Black Rock Mountain

At the Silk Route, Bhuvan finds a message marked in yellow that has these lines.

What’s the treasure that you want?

What you shall have and others can’t?

O seeker, for you does fortune wait

Your deepest yearning will it sate

Atop the hallowed black rock mountain,

The guru’s name chants a holy fountain

Blessed water shall forge your Karma true

To make you ready for your gift in blue.

After that-

The next destination it seems, is the Black rock mountain. The message again talks about some fortune that will satisfy Bhuvan’s deepest yearnings.

“What can that be? Right now what I need most is an inverter motor for the science project.”

 But there’s plenty of time to think about that. Presently the treasure or fortune, whatever it is, is not important. Bhuvan is actually high on the challenge of the quest.

Quickly he goes through the verses a couple of times. The Black rock mountain is a hill with a Tibetan Mahayana Buddhist monastery at its summit. The ‘holy fountain’ must definitely refer to the natural spring that falls on the way to the Norbulingka monastery. The water from the spring is conveyed using wooden channels to the foot of a huge Buddhist prayer wheel. The impact of the falling water turns the prayer wheel and the mantras written on it are spread into the universe for the benefit of all the human beings. The water that comes out from the foot of the prayer wheel is considered blest. So this message is instructing him to drink the blessed water and receive the next clue, which may be indicated by something of blue color.

Without further ado, Bhuvan sets out for the Black rock mountain. He has to get back on to the tar road, follow it for a couple of miles and then get off it at the foot of the Black rock. The only way up the hill is a mule track that is used by the monks to carry all their supplies to the monastery. Bhuvan breaks into a slow run after reaching the main road. In less than twenty minutes he is at the base of the Black rock mountain. After catching his breath for a couple of minutes, he starts climbing the mule track. The mule track is narrow and at places treacherous, but Bhuvan has negotiated it numerous times before; he knows each and every curve on it. A half hour climb brings him to a wide natural landing. To the right is the giant prayer wheel and behind it, a short way up the slope is the natural spring. 

There’s a small Chhorten at the edge of the landing, to the left. Tired from his exertion, he tosses his satchel and plops on to the ground with his back to the chhorten, looking down at the valley below. Even in all his tiredness, he cannot resist admiring the spectacular view in front of him. The entire valley is laid out before him. The pristine water of the Mochhu is sparkling in the morning sunlight. The terraced hills all around the valley are planted with paddy. Paddy dominates the valley floor as well. Light and dark green waves form as the breeze passes over the paddy fields. The song of the valley cannot be heard up here. The only sounds here are those of the wind whistling through the pine needles and the regular tolling of the tiny bell attached to the prayer wheel. Each time the bell tolls, it signifies one complete rotation of the prayer wheel.

Thus rested, Bhuvan gets up and walks to the prayer wheel. He takes the blessed water between his palms and drinks from it. He sprinkles some of it on his face and head. Then he turns around.

“Good Lord! How is this possible?”

Shell shocked, he feels a chill run down his spine. Right where he was sitting few moments ago, a blue silk scarf is fluttering in the wind. Instantly Bhuvan runs in one direction, for some distance on the mule track and then on the other side. But he could see no one leaving the landing. Shaken by this spooky incident, Bhuvan fearfully goes closer to the chhorten to inspect. A carefully constructed cairn is placed on one end of the blue scarf, and there is a blue envelope placed under one of the rocks. Swiftly he pries out the envelope and takes out a folded piece of handmade paper from within. Verses again;

Through all your efforts you ensure

Your heart’s desire, one that’s pure

The treasure that, for you is meant

Smolders within thoughts deepest pent

Your heart of gold shall fetch the prize

Like a phoenix born, so you shall rise.

Upon the hill where the lone pine stands,

Is the purple patch your soul demands.

This is a story written in five parts. For going on to Part II, click on the link - The Silk Route

For Part I - Daydreamer

For Part IV - The Lonely Pine

For Part V - The Treasure At Last

The Quest, Part II: The Silk Route

On his way to school, Bhuvan finds a message in a red envelope by the roadside. He finds these verses inside.

O traveler, if you do pursue

Boundless treasures meant for you

Keep your eyes open, you need

Signs ahead that you must heed

Your destiny lies from all concealed

Waiting for you, to be revealed.

Look out for a fluttering yellow

Out there, where the mulberries mellow.

Thenceforward -  

                                                                                           

“What in God’s name is this?”

Taken aback by the message, Bhuvan looks around, wondering what this means.

“Someone trying to fool around with me; this must be a prank?”

But who could it be and why would someone take so much pain just to play a prank on him? Although, this seems unlikely, yet the other possibility of this being real is too fantastic. Flummoxed, he reads the lines again. It clearly states that there is some treasure and whatever it is, it’s meant for him, provided he is the traveler who is addressed in the poem. Someone is trying to lead him to the treasure with clues. This poem is the first of them. The second clue has been marked in yellow, probably by a yellow cloth. The last two lines talks about his destiny, which will lead him to the treasure. It is hidden from others and will be revealed only to him.

“Does that mean that the clues are visible only to me?” He frowns.

That may explain why no one noticed the red marker and the cairn earlier. But then, what if it is some sort of illegal enterprise, what if it is a trap? With his mind churning out all sorts of possibilities and considerations; eventually his in-born curiosity and the likelihood of missing out on an adventure outweighs all his other apprehensions. Bhuvan decides that the only way to understand is to go ahead and find the next clue. He reads the lines again.

“Out there, where the mulberries mellow”

There is only one place in the valley where mulberry grows and that is in the silk farm called Silk Route. He knows this place very well because he had done quite a lot of study on sericulture for his Geography project in the tenth standard. He had visited the Silk Route, and spoken to its cheerful proprietor Wong Hon-hei. Wong Hon-hei, is the lone descendant of his father Wong Fei-hung, who had migrated from Tibet to India a long time back in the fifties, during the Chinese occupation of the plateau. Despite all the odds, Wong Fei-hung established his own Sericulture farm in this Himalayan valley and prospered.

The Silk Route is a mile down the road, on a huge patch of alluvial flood plain on the bank of the Mochhu. Bhuvan sets off at a brisk pace towards Wong Hon-hei’s farm. The cheerful silk farmer is one of his very few friends and he will definitely help. A mile long walk brings him to a point where a wide dirt track leaves the main road and goes down the slope toward the riverbank. He hits the dirt-road and comes to a traditional cattle barrier made of the trunks of young eucalyptus trees. He slides the upper beam to one side, steps over and crosses the lower one and then slides the upper beam back in place. Walking down the slope, he reaches Wong Hon-hei’s residence and calls out for him. But his calls are answered by the housekeeper Lady Zhao. He learns from her that Wong Hon-hei has gone to the city and won’t be back before nightfall. Nevertheless, Bhuvan makes his way to the mulberry farm by himself.

As he draws closer to the barbed wire fencing around the mulberry farm, he is disappointed to see that none of the big plants have any fruit on them.

“Is this a hoax? Or is there some-place else where mulberry trees are growing?”  Bhuvan questions in disappointment.

Right then, he remembers that these Mulberry bushes are grown only for their leaves to feed the silk worm caterpillar. They are not supposed to fruit. Wong Hon-hei has a small fruit Orchard at the other end of the farm which has fruit trees. Along with the plums, peaches and oranges, there are a couple of big Mulberry trees as well. Instantly, Bhuvan sets out for the orchard. He runs along the boundary to the far side of the farm jumping ditches, ducking overhanging foliage and running through dense undergrowth. Reaching the other side, he stretches the barbed wire fence apart and eases through the gap into the orchard. The boy has been here a number of times and knows the place well. He walks between the rows of orange trees to where he knows the two mulberry trees are. Reaching there he looks up at one tree and then the other. Both of the small trees are heavily laden with fruit. Getting closer to the trunk of one tree, treading on the squishy fruits fallen at the base, Bhuvan inspects the branches.

“There’s something hanging up there.”

To his joy, he finds a bright yellow piece of silk waving at him from one of the branches above. Gingerly, he climbs up the trunk onto an overhanging branch, careful not to have the fruits stain his clothing. One end of the scarf is tied around an overhead branch, with a yellow envelope in its folds. Bhuvan takes out the envelope and finds yet another neatly folded piece of hand-made paper inside. On it is written in the same hand writing, another verse.

What’s the treasure that you want?

What you shall have and others can’t?

O seeker, for you does fortune wait

Your deepest yearning will it sate

Atop the hallowed black rock mountain,

The guru’s name chants a holy fountain

Blessed water shall forge your Karma true

To make you ready for your gift in blue.

This is a story written in five parts. For going on to Part I, click on the link - Daydreamer

For Part III - On Black Rock Mountain

For Part IV - The Lonely Pine

For Part V - The Treasure At Last

The Quest, Part I: Daydreamer

Part I: Daydreamer

People are rooted to the real world, they revel in times of real joy and lament in times of real sorrow. At other times they wallow in the routine. But even in the real world, there are few, capable of effortless transition between the mundane and the magical.

With a pencil stub held between his teeth and elbows planted firmly on the desk, Bhuvan looks through his horn rimmed glasses across the pool of bobbing oval heads to where Mr. Phillips is deriving the Nernst equation on the blackboard. The chalk in the Physics teacher's hand squeaks across the board laying down thermodynamic gibberish and he looks on with rapt attention. His brown eyes are intense and his gaze is unwavering. For any unsuspecting bystander he may appear to be mesmerized by how Gibbs free energy is being manipulated to get to the Nernst equation. But someone close to him will understand that his mind is actually not inside this classroom at all. No one really knows on which meadow inside his mind he is grazing his flock of sheep; or the mountain stream where he is fishing for trout. And that if he is not tilling a mountain terrace with his power tiller or hitchhiking across the great Himalayas or taking a nap in the valley of flowers, he is in most probability, sitting idle under the lonely blue pine visible at the top of the Logodama hill. 

Fortunately or unfortunately for him, none of his classmates or any of the teachers know much of what goes on inside his head. He is not the most popular kid in his class. Given that he is the best of his class, with athletic good looks and a pleasant personality, he ought to have been better liked. But although his classmates are in awe of his superior academic proficiency, they stay away from this introverted boy. The end result is that Bhuvan does not have many people to call as friends. He does not seem to mind it though. He has his own little world.

With his satchel slung across his shoulder, Bhuvan strides across the town square with his usual loping gait. The shopkeepers have just begun to open up for the day’s business. He averts eye contact with the few morning walkers he passes on the road just to avoid exchanging unnecessary pleasantries. In this small Himalayan valley populated by a few thousand, most people know most of the others. Bhuvan is not particularly excited about getting recognized or being spoken to. Though there is a school bus which takes all the other town children, he finds it easier to walk the five kilometers to his school every morning. That way he can see and feel everything that he meets on the way and more importantly he does not have to bear the cacophony inside the school bus. He enjoys this part of the daily routine so much that he starts for school much earlier than required; who knows what new adventure he might miss if he is late.

Having crossed the town square and the market he slows down to a saunter. The road is almost empty, with an occasional vehicle passing by. He becomes receptive to the fresh morning breeze caressing his face. The rustling eucalyptus leaves serenade music into his ears. He follows a dislodged leaf on its way down as it rolls over hundreds of times in the air, before landing on the road with a rasping sound. A couple of sparrows are restlessly whirring about on the eaves of a roadside house.

“What’s the matter with you guys? Why are you so worried?” Bhuvan asks them.

He listens closely and hears them lament that a stray cat broke into their nest and took their eggs away. A little ahead, the jangling of bells speaks of cattle being herded away to graze. Every morning he sees a dozen cattle being led away by a couple of cowherds up the slopes, to some mountain meadow where there must be plenty for the herd to graze upon. Sometimes he wishes he could accompany them to that distant meadow, always wondering how beautiful it must be. Amidst all these, the continuous lashing sound made by the icy waters of the Mochhu River is ever audible. The sound of this mountain river can be heard from everywhere in the valley. It is the perennial song of this place. It is painful for him even to imagine what the valley would be like if one day, all of a sudden, the Mochhu decided to flow silently. A profound smile lights up Bhuvan’s face. It is as if all at once the cool breeze, the rustling leaves, the grieving sparrows, the jangling bells and the river’s song, all make perfect sense to him.

“Thank you God, this is how it is supposed to be.” He looks up to the heavens and says a small prayer.

In this state of delight he makes his progress towards his destination, dabbling in new revelations, and discovering new stories with every step. As he walks on, engrossed in his surroundings, he notices a bright red cloth flapping on the brae beside the road.

“What the hell is that?”

On closer scrutiny Bhuvan finds a piece of silk fluttering in the breeze trying to overcome the restraint administered at one end by a carefully constructed cairn. There is also a red envelop tucked delicately under the pile of stones. It looks like a message, left there for somebody.

“This is so unusual. Who is this meant for? Why would anyone leave a message here?”

From the manner in which it is arranged, there is no doubt as to its deliberate intent. But who would come all this way to leave a message in the middle of an unfrequented mountain road? What should he do about it?

The inquisitive boy falls into a dilemma; part of him instructs, “Bhuvan, just leave it and move on.”

His curiosity however, urges him to hang around a bit longer. Finally giving in to this urge, he scrambles up the brae and perches himself on a rocky ledge that provides a clear view of the road and the cairn. He eagerly watches out for the person who comes to collect the message, but in vain. After lingering for a long time, having observed a number of villagers, a couple of cars and few motorbikes pass by, Bhuvan finally clambers down the slope. It surprises him that none of the passersby seemed to take notice of the red silk marker even though it is very conspicuous. He decides to go ahead and take out the envelope.

“Maybe, there is an address mentioned where I can get the message delivered.”

He pries out the envelope from under the pile of rocks and carefully opens it. There is nothing written on the envelope, no name, no address. Inside the red envelope there is a folded piece of handmade paper. Bhuvan draws the letter out and unfolds it. Written on it, in a beautiful hand, are these verses:

O traveler, if you do pursue

Boundless treasures meant for you

Keep your eyes open, you need

Signs ahead that you must heed

Your destiny lies from all concealed

Waiting for you, to be revealed.

Look out for a fluttering yellow

Out there, where the mulberries mellow.

This is a story written in five parts. For going on to Part II, click on the link - Silk Route
For Part III - On Black Rock Mountain
For Part IV - The Lonely Pine
For Part V - The Treasure At Last

সময় বদলের কবিতা ।

আমার লেখা বাংলা ভাষায় প্রথম কবিতা ।

সময় বদলের কবিতা ।

পরির্বতনের চলছে হাওয়া
অধীর দেখছি তোমায়,
ভাবছ কি বসে, কি করে চলবে
বদলে গেলে সময়?

চিন্তা করো না ওসব নিয়ে
বেরিয়ে আসবে পথ,
নিজের কাজটি করতে থাকো
হয়ে একেবারে সৎ ।।

আজ না তো কাল আসারই ছিল
দিন বদলের পালা,
সময় কি আর থাকবে থেমে
সে, সর্বদা চঞ্চলা ।।

সময় থাকতে এই কথাটিকে
কষে বেধে নাও গাঠঁ,
তৈরি থেকো খোলা মনে
জীবন পড়াবে পাঠ ।।

এই কথাটি মানতে তোমার
না চায় যদি মন,
লিখিয়ে নিও, পরবে পিছিয়ে
দুঃখে ভরা জীবন ।।

সময়ের সাথে তাল মিলিয়ে,
দাও দড়িয়ায় ঝাঁপ ।
ভয় পেয়ো না, শিখেই যাবে
সাতাঁর, হবে না চাপ ।।

দিন বদল ই এই জনমের
জ্যেষ্ঠ তত্ব অচল ।
তার সমুখে নেই কারো জোর,
সকল সূত্র বিফল ।।

বৃষ-রূপি সময় যখন প্রচন্ড,
আসবে পানে ধেয়ে
সাহস জুটিয়ে, দাড়িয়ে যাবে
সামনে বুক ফুলিয়ে ।।

চকিতে তার শিং দুটি ধরে
মারবে হ্যাচ্কা টান,
দাপটে তোমার পোষ মানবে,
তোমারই করবে বাখান ।।

এখনও দেখছি যায়নি তোমার
মন থেকে সংশয়,
ভূলে কি গেছ ভাগ্য সদা
বীরের প্রতি সদয়?

আর ভেবো না, ঘন নিশ্বাস
বুকে ভরে নাও দুটি
এগিয়ে চলো জীবন-পথে
ভয়কে দাওহে ছুটি ।।

---------------অভিজ্ঞান সাহা

Darjeeling- Queen of the Himalayas

(Written for and published in USPeople, the USP employee newsletter in 2014)

Nestled deep in the Lesser Himalayas of West Bengal, two thousand meters above sea level is a hill station known as the Queen of the Himalayas. Darjeeling is a Tibetan name which translated to English means the Land of The Thunderbolt.

Historically, this hill station was of strategic importance as a British outpost in the Himalayas. Later it was fashioned out by the British for their summer residence and then for the commercial cultivation of tea. The hill retreat has a hundred and eighty years of rich history since the British East India Company took it over from the then warring kingdoms of Nepal and Sikkim.

“The one land that all men desire to see, and having seen once by even a glimpse would not give that glimpse for the shows of the rest of the world combined.” Mark Twain said after visiting Darjeeling.

The journey by road to Darjeeling provides many such views

Darjeeling is high on the wish list of tourists the world over, owing to its scenic beauty and numerous treks. Tourism and Tea are the two major industries in this Hill district.

We planned a visit in the month of April which is most comfortable in terms of weather and the warmth of the spring season ensures the best of views. I and my wife set out with hearts full of expectation and eagerness to explore every bit of this beautiful hill retreat.

The road from Siliguri, the nearest railhead and airport, is a typical tortuous mountain road with ever increasing altitude that goes around one hill after the other. It is a very pleasant ride offering beautiful views of the mountains and tea gardens. A three and half hour journey takes us to Darjeeling.

We decide to avoid the conventional tourist places, the ‘five points’ and the ‘seven points’ sort of site seeing on this trip. We are more interested in having a peek into the heart of this small town, maybe find our own sweet spot on its map that is not frequented by many and capture some unique aspects of life in this hill station in some good photographs. Collecting a map of the town from the tourist information centre is a good starting point towards that end. We decide to walk our way around the town and try to avoid hiring vehicles as much as possible. Having set out thus, on foot, we savor every visual delight that this quaint little hill station throws up along the way.

Chowrastha – Heart of Darjeeling

Walking up the famous Mall Road one reaches the big town square ‘the Chowrastha’ which is undoubtedly the heart of this town. With restaurants, tea shops, souvenir and curio stores lining two sides, a large amphitheatre on another and a picturesque panorama of mountains on the last, this is the perfect place for relaxing, a cup of steaming Darjeeling tea in hand.

The statue of Nepalese poet Bhanubhakta Acharya at the Darjeeling town square. He translated the epic Ramayana from Sanskrit to Nepali and is revered as the ‘Adikavi’ or the first poet of Nepal.

This neat and clean town square is favored by tourists and townspeople alike for spending the afternoons. We spend quite some time sitting on a bench, just relaxing and enjoying the view. It is not unusual to find one of the talented local bands dishing out popular music for the bystanders.

The path to Aloobari

A narrow lane, out of Chowrastha brings one to the road going to the villages of Aloobari and Phoolbari. The three kilometer walk to the Aloobari Monastery is one of the most refreshing ones I have had in a long time. The imposing grey mountains, the deep valleys and the lush greenery are a treat for the eyes.

Away from the congestion of the town, unfrequented by tourists; the path is not on the conventional ‘To See’ or ‘To Do’ list for visitors. As one follows the path and goes up the hill, habitation dwindles, sounds become fainter and the breeze is stronger and chillier. The road is like a corridor lined with huge Japanese pines. Midway, we hit upon an open space with a sloping meadow on one side and a wall of sighing conifers on the other. It seems just like the place we have been looking for.

A small village on the way to Aloobari.

Sitting on a big boulder by the roadside we dabble in the serenity of the spot. The strong cool breeze whistles through the needles of the pines. Blended in perfect harmony with the surroundings are a small hamlet and adjoining rice fields at the bottom of the meadow. The wind brings with it faint sounds of children playing in the distant fields. From some far off rice terrace, the dull drone of a power tiller is barely discernible. It is a vantage point before which the Middle Himalayas are laid out in full splendor. Hilton’s ‘Shangri La’ may not have been any different from this.

Darjeeling Rangit Valley Passenger Ropeway

One thing that no one should miss when in Darjeeling is the ride on the Ropeway. It is a two and a half kilometer cable car ride from the hills of Darjeeling to Puttabong Tukvar Tea Estate. Tukvar is one of the largest and oldest tea gardens in Darjeeling that started commercial operations way back in the 1850s.

The two way ride lasts 40 mins. The cable car descends from the hills of Darjeeling, goes over a series of mountain spurs with their slopes covered in Tea plantations.

The picturesque Tukvar Tea Estate comprises of many such slopes planted with tea bushes.

The rapid loss of altitude on the way down causes ones ear drums to buzz. As the cable car slides down the line and goes deeper into the valley, the air becomes heavier. Compounded by the languor induced by the quick loss of altitude, a heavy curtain of silence induces a mild dizziness. The cable car stops midway, for about half a minute. Suspended thus, over a hundred feet above the tea plantation, we are spellbound by the surrounding verdancy. It is like being trapped in a floating bubble. Amid the undulating greens of the tea plantation below, the grey of the huge mountains around and the vast expanse of the clear blue sky above, our bubble seems very fragile. It is a humbling experience the beauty of which can hardly be expressed in words.

View from the Rangeet Valley Cable Car.

Take a stroll when in Darjeeling

Not hiring a tourist cab turns out to be a wise decision. We read the map and walk to whichever place we want to see; taking shortcuts wherever available. The streets in Darjeeling are a lot of fun to walk on. Devoid of excessive traffic and relatively pollution free, they provide great views as well as fresh cool breeze all the time.

We take a stroll down a walkway near the Chowrastha that is used by the townspeople for their morning walk and recreation. The peacefulness of this place coupled with a magnificent view of the valley is very enticing. The calm and unhurried demeanor of the townspeople gives the impression that time has stopped passing. It is as if we have been transported back in time, away from the hectic schedule of our own busy lives.

A peaceful village road in Darjeeling

To renew the pleasurable experience we revisit this beautiful walkway, early in the morning on the last day of our stay. We are elated to find everything shrouded in a blanket of thick mist. It looks all the more amazing. The only sounds audible are the pitter patter of dewdrops falling from overhead leaves.

Last but not in any way the least

Our sojourn into Darjeeling would have been complete but for a few other things that are typical tourist attractions and in a way define the history, geography and spirit of this hill station. These are a few things one must not miss when in Darjeeling.

A visit to Darjeeling is never really complete without a view of the sunrise and the five peaks of Mount Kangchenjunga from the Tiger Hill Observatory. Kangchenjunga is the third highest mountain in the world. The Toy Train of the Darjeeling Himalayan Railways which has been accorded World Heritage status by UNESCO is another integral feature of Darjeeling. The Gorkha war memorial located on the gigantic Batasia railway loop commemorates Gorkha martyrs in various wars. It also offers a beautiful view of the Kangchenjunga.

Clockwise from Left: The beautiful walkway near Chowrastha.

Top Right: A blanket of mist early in the morning.

Bottom Right: This walkway is an integral part of the morning routine of the townspeople.

We are lucky to be gifted this beautiful view of a pair of rainbows after a light afternoon drizzle. 

The Himalayan Mountaineering Institute and museum is definitely worth visiting if one is interested in the history of mountaineering and the conquests of Mt. Everest. The Darjeeling Zoo is in the same neighborhood. The Red Panda, the rare Snow and Clouded Leopards and various types of beautiful Himalayan Pheasants are an interesting watch.

View of Mt. Kangchenjunga from the Batasia Loop.

Clockwise, Bottom Left: The newly constructed town hall, Gorkha Rang Manch.

Top Left: A young Red Panda playing in the Darjeeling Zoological Park.

Right: The statue of Sherpa Tenzin Norgay, outside the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute.

Having seen all these places, if one can coax his exhausted body to go a little further, a short uphill walk to the Mahakala temple is definitely worth the effort. One can enjoy the afternoon, resting on the lawn, amid Buddhist prayer flags fluttering all around. The uniqueness of this temple is in the fact that it has shared altars for deities of both Hindu and Buddhist religions.

Amid Buddhist Prayer flags in the Mahakala temple.

As we conclude two days of sightseeing, it is time to pack up for a return to our normal life and its mundane businesses. Exhausted physically, but spiritually invigorated, with plenty of fresh new memories and memory cards full of beautiful moments, we make our return journey ‘downhill’ as the locals call it here. The memories of this trip will endure forever in our minds.