Rasoi: Tonglu: Wheels on the Holy Road: Fourth Post

We woke up to a gorgeous morning with the western face of Kanchenjunga range, high and mighty, right above us. Along the rows of blue hills, somewhere was Goecha La where I had been last year. The Western face of the mountain has two ridges emanating from it. The Southern ridge extends to Talung, Kabru (N & S, Dome) and Kokthang and finally ends in Rathong. The Northern ridge extends to prominent peaks and features, notably the Zemu Peak, Zemu Gap and on towards Simvo, Simvo Saddle,Jongsong, Jongsong La, Nepal Peak, Nepal Gap, Lhonak Peak and Pyramid Peak amongst others. Also visible is Pandim. But its satellite peaks – Jopunu, ThinChenKhang were invisible due to the mist.

The Darjeeling Himalayan Railway at Ghoom War Memorial

The grasses were wet with dew, a rooster crowed, brilliant fall colours had erupted with smell of pines. The helmet, kept on the motorcycle had become wet due to the mist. I have been through roads and place like these a countless number of times, but there is a newness which I feel every time that I can’t hide my smile. This is the great Indian outdoors that is impervious and unknown. The India of steel and glass buildings hasn’t yet found its way into these places. It is away from the daily banter, traffic lights and billboards and the glare of the media, newspapers or TV shows.

Instead, this is the India of highways, hamlets and fields of harvests. People greet. Strangers smile. Here, life breathes in little pauses. It has lesser needs and is a little less hungry. This is the part of our great country, whose stories we have heard from our forefathers, about its rich, immense and endless lands. It hasn’t lost its dense, winter fogs yet. Or the pouring rain. Wild flowers still grow on the road sides and cattle still strays away from their path here. That odd slow moving bullock carts ferry hay. Children still run after a moving car. And we travel for miles till we meet another soul. Roads haven’t found their way yet into the deepest of places. For someone travelling in these places for the first time, it is a shock that such places still exist. Few people know about it. And even fewer travel to these places.

Thumba Pitchers and Campfire at Tumling

Here I had felt that a purpose of the journey had been finally defined and it was time to leave finally, but not long before that arduous ride to Chitrey. Finally at New Jalpaiguri railway station, I loaded the motorcycle on an overnight train and returned back to Calcutta.

So that is where it ends. Here’s hoping for a more substantial journey in the future!