In my last post I wrote about random acts of kindness that I've
been on the receiving end of. Since then I've experienced such incredible good
fortune and aid from the most unexpected of quarters that I'm almost convinced
that I must have a guardian angel or dozen watching over me. That, or, like I
used to imagine when I was little, I'm the unsuspecting avatar of some goddess
and I'll finally come to realise it one day like in those mythological movies
of old.
Anyway, story
time. I wrote the following the old-fashioned way with borrowed pen and bits of
scrap paper, while I was alone in a secluded guest house in Nongriat cut off
from both civilization and technology. The former I dispensed with voluntarily
and willingly. The latter... well, that's what the story will tell.
I woke up at 7:15
am. Had spent the night at By The Way, the backpacker's lodge in lower Sohra.
The Lithuanian wasn't in his bed, the Israelis were still asleep. Walked over
to the loo, found the shower was occupied, so came back to our room to put
finishing touches on my packing for the overnight stay in Nongriat. I'd thought
packing a 45 l backpack was hard, but a tiny daypack was harder still. I really
suck at packing light, but in this instance my overpacking came in handy. By
the time I was done, the Lithuanian came back from his shower. So I grabbed a
hot shower, dumped my old clothes into my backpack, left the backpack with
Heprit (guy who runs the lodge), draped my damp towel over my shoulder and set
out to catch my bus. The bus stop was right across from the lodge. Took my
place with the local crowd and waited for the bus that would take me as far as Mawshamok.
From there it was about a 1 km walk to the head of the 3000 step descent to
Nongriat where the double decker living root bridge was.
While I was waiting at the stop, Heprit came over and we chatted
for a bit until the bus arrived at around 9:30. A small mini bus, it was packed
completely. After letting the couple of people who got down out, I hurriedly
squeezed in afraid the bus would leave me behind. I needn’t have been in such a
hurry though, because nearly half the bus emptied out at lower sohra and I even
managed to get a seat.
At first the ride was nothing special, just some dusty roads. But
soon things took a turn for the awesome. Winding, twisty roads with the most
gorgeous views. At one point I could even see past the mountains into the
plains of what I assumed was Bangladesh! And so I grinned all the way to
Mawshamok.
By the time I got down I was starting to feel a bit hungry.
Luckily I found myself right outside a tea stall. So I went in, took my seat and
asked for sha. Shopkeeper girl made me and the local customers some dud sha (milk
tea) and distributed it along with poori and what looked like sweet potato. She
only had poori by the time she got to me, so I took it and ate it plain
following the lead of the others around. No sabzi wabzi for these hardy folks.
After finishing my tea, I politely took my cup over to the back of the shop
where she was doing the dishes, and still got overcharged (I think) - 20 rupees
for a cup of tea and a poori!
Got out and took the road that lead straight from the bus stop,
only to find after about 10 minutes that I was heading towards Laitkynsew and
not Tyrna. Headed back to the crossroads and took the other fork. Turned on my GPS
just in case, and sure enough, I was on the wrong road again! Back at the main
road, I asked a construction worker for directions and he told me I needed to
go back a bit (along the road the bus had come by) before taking the left at
the fork. Finally on the right track, having lost about half an hour in all
this back and forth, I set forth for Tyrna, cursing myself for not taking a
look at the map before setting out.
And doubly cursing myself for not checking weather conditions out
there. Hot and humid as fuck it was during the day, and my jacket was just
weighing me down (though it turned out to be a good thing that I’d brought it). I wore my jacket over my head (a
la tea pickers) and trudged on in the heat, drawing odd looks along the way.
I’d learnt my lesson by now, and so stopped at every single fork
in the road and asked someone for directions to Nongriat. At one of the last
such forks I met my first guardian angel of the day – a villager from Nongriat
who was heading back home after carrying up the luggage of some tourists from
Assam. I think his name was Raju (at least that’s what I heard), and he was one
of the nicest people I’ve ever known. He kept me company all the way down to
the village, and even after I told him I had no money to give him, he still
acted as my pro bono guide. Waited for me each time I fell behind (walking down
so many steps really tries the knees!) and offered time and again to carry my
bag as well. I thanked him in my barely passable Hindi and asked him to go
ahead and not wait for me. He still persisted and even took me along some secret
shortcuts only known to the locals, saving me at least a few hundred steps.
The going soon got very tough indeed. Never-ending stairs, and
though the jungle and hill views were nice at first, my enthusiasm
started flagging after the first 1000 odd steps. Fortunately just as my legs
and spirit were about to give out, we arrived at the single decker long living
root bridge at Nongthymmai. What a sight it was! So exciting to see such a
marvel of human ingenuity meets nature’s bounty. Loved crossing this long
bridge, and equally enjoyed the return route jumping and climbing over the
rocks at the bottom, back to the other shore. After this I was back in full
glowing form. So so happy to be there and then. :)
Past the long root bridge, the going was much more...not easier
exactly, but definitely much more fun! I started getting more adventurous as
well – walked/climbed along the sides of the actual steps, which I always find
easier somehow. Stairs hurt my knees (guess I’m getting to that age, ugh), but
clambering up and down rocks comes naturally to me. I’m quite at home among
boulders, or so I thought until..but we’ll get to that in a bit.
Raju was quite amused by my child-like glee in all this and seemed
to take a liking to me. He was even kind enough to say hum dono achche aadmi
hai, in response to me saying he was one. He also included me in the garib aadmi
club (I think because I told him I took the bus to avoid having to pay the exorbitant
cab fares), and even offered to pay me when I shared one of the appam-like
snacks I’d got from Sohra market with him, bless his soul! Then he gave me the most
brotherly advice to find naukri because it wasn’t good to while away one’s time,
and to also get married and have kids (heh). On enquiring about him in return,
he said he wasn’t married and nor did he have any parents. :(
Once he realised my fondness for the rough trail as opposed to the
laid out one, he took my by a shortcut to the guest house where I was planning
to stay for the night. Saved me another hundred odd steps at least. When
I found out he would have to backtrack quite a bit to get to his own house, I
asked him to go on home and told him I’d find my own way to the guest house.
But he wouldn’t leave me until I was safely settled in (which was a good thing
too because there were many places where I could’ve gotten lost along the way).
I really wanted to give him something to show my appreciation for all he’d
done. Money was out of the question, so I dug around in my pack and found
nothing at all suitable for a guy. I finally decided to give him the rest of my
stock of appams. Had to practically force him to take it too. He thought he was
depriving me of my breakfast! I thanked him with all my heart and all my stock
of Hindi too, and headed out to the double decker root bridge which we'd bypassed on our shortcut.
Continued here...
