At Rongli I meet Chundu Bhutia, whose support vehicle I will be using for the remaining trip. He arranges the permit and takes a long time to arrange for that. But the road beyond Rongli is a different world.
The boulder strewn road has given way to smooth asphalt.
The dust from the low hills has given way to clean, untainted air.
The intense sun has given way soft, white clouds.
The tropical trees have given away to conifers.
The hairpins have become sharper.
And the traffic, thinner.
I see these BRO workers returning from work. They are a little intrigued when I ask them to pose. Instead, they tell me "We are from CID!"
There is an urge to stop at of those sharp hairpin bends and look at the world below. Wisps of clouds hang around the valleys. From where I stand, it feels scary to see that the raging river resembles a thread. The drop is a sheer straight one. Take a flight and you will hurtle hundreds of feet into the bottomless valleys beneath.
As the roads lead me out to the higher places, I can see a beautiful meadow. Behind a wooden gate, are pines and conifers, wild flowers and berries. An old, stone walled school building appears in the rear of the garden. I can hear the shrill sounds of children repeating what their teacher was teaching. It’s the village primary school and the system of education remains the same almost everywhere. It reminds me of our kindergarten classes.
At Padamchen, the last check post on the way to Zuluk, I get my permit stamped the fourth time. My mind is riveted on the milestone that that indicates that Zuluk is not too far from here. And for the first time in the day I make haste. I cannot deny that the prospect of a home, a bed, clean linen and a proper bath can leave me happier. But before I start the last leg of the journey, I can see a convoy of Army trucks coming down. The series of trucks resemble a moving chain descending the mountain. I wait for the convoy to pass and then climb the remaining switch backs. I cross the military check post from where I can see the little village of Zuluk floating in clouds and mist. Some of the clouds, high up in the sky, have turned orange due to the evening sun.
The boulder strewn road has given way to smooth asphalt.
The dust from the low hills has given way to clean, untainted air.
The intense sun has given way soft, white clouds.
The tropical trees have given away to conifers.
The hairpins have become sharper.
And the traffic, thinner.
I see these BRO workers returning from work. They are a little intrigued when I ask them to pose. Instead, they tell me "We are from CID!"
There is an urge to stop at of those sharp hairpin bends and look at the world below. Wisps of clouds hang around the valleys. From where I stand, it feels scary to see that the raging river resembles a thread. The drop is a sheer straight one. Take a flight and you will hurtle hundreds of feet into the bottomless valleys beneath.
As the roads lead me out to the higher places, I can see a beautiful meadow. Behind a wooden gate, are pines and conifers, wild flowers and berries. An old, stone walled school building appears in the rear of the garden. I can hear the shrill sounds of children repeating what their teacher was teaching. It’s the village primary school and the system of education remains the same almost everywhere. It reminds me of our kindergarten classes.
At Padamchen, the last check post on the way to Zuluk, I get my permit stamped the fourth time. My mind is riveted on the milestone that that indicates that Zuluk is not too far from here. And for the first time in the day I make haste. I cannot deny that the prospect of a home, a bed, clean linen and a proper bath can leave me happier. But before I start the last leg of the journey, I can see a convoy of Army trucks coming down. The series of trucks resemble a moving chain descending the mountain. I wait for the convoy to pass and then climb the remaining switch backs. I cross the military check post from where I can see the little village of Zuluk floating in clouds and mist. Some of the clouds, high up in the sky, have turned orange due to the evening sun.
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