http://www.bagchiblog.blogspot.com
 |
| Umium Lake |
It
was late evening, dusky with menacing clouds. We were on our way up from
Guwahati to Shillong. Rain came down in torrents just about when we were
labouring up a steep hill in an ancient Ambassador. Through the thick shroud of
falling rain the forest on both sides looked menacing. Suddenly, the car
stalled and came to a halt. The driver, a Mizo, unlocking the bonnet, got out
unperturbed in the blinding rain to investigate. A little tinkering and the
dead engine miraculously came to life. Thanking God for saving us from a soggy
night out in the wilderness, we moved on, reaching Shillong around nine –
somewhat late by north-eastern standards. After a four-year stint in
Maharashtra, we were heading to Shillong on a posting for two years to preside
over the North Eastern postal administration.
 |
| A misty view from our living room window |
Waking
up next morning to a glorious sunshine we forgot the mishap of the previous
evening. The green, thick-with-pines hills of Oakland, the neighbourhood we
were parked in, were bathed in gorgeous sunshine and, set off against the
turquoise of the sky, looked devastating. A bracing gentle breeze blew across
the trough immediately below that once was the polo ground. Beyond we espied
range after range of Khasi Hills in bright sunshine. Bowled over in the first
few minutes that we spent out in the open, we realised what everyone said
 |
| In our front yard |
was
really true. Shillong was, indeed, incredibly beautiful.
No
wonder, with all its undulations, it has been given the sobriquet of “Scotland
of the East”. The striking resemblance with the Scottish Highlands is further
reinforced by the ubiquitous tartan that the Khasi men and women wrap
themselves with. Its Tudor houses, the gardens, the works, remind cognoscenti
of Devonshire or Sussex. Incidentally, we were allotted a house that was
essentially Tudor in design and very
comfortable w2ith added attraction of whispering pines within touching
distance. Tucked away in the remote north-eastern hills, untouched by hordes of
tourists, it has also been branded as the country’s “secluded Shangri-la”.
Drawing
its name from the Khasi God “Leyshyllong”, who is believed to be residing on
the Shillong Peak, Shillong was a small village until 1864 when it became the
civil station for Khasi and Jaintia Hills. The British also used it for rest
and recuperation. It remained the summer capital of eastern Bengal and Assam
for many years. On the
 |
| A smll part of Shillong |
formation of the Assam Chief Commissioner’s Province in
1874, it was the obvious choice for being designated as the capital. It
remained so until 1972 when on formation of Meghalaya comprising the Khasi,
Jayantia and Garo Hills it became the capital of the new state.
Perched
on Khasi Hills at an elevation of about 5000 ft. above sea-level, Shillong is
blessed with substantial rainfall and an equable climate, though winters could
be cold. Perennially dressed in green, it offers crisp, clean air and a nature
that is feast for the eyes. The town’s
 |
| Forest along Camel's Back Road |
attractions, therefore, are in its
natural features, peaks, falls, lakes and gardens. Laitkor Peak, commonly known
as the Shillong Peak, at about 6000 ft. is the most important and is the
highest point of the town, as also of the state. An air force station located
on it keeps vigil with its radar over 400 kilometres all around. Nearby are the
two falls, Gunners’ and the Elephant Falls, both beautiful places for a day’s
outing, more so during the monsoons. Just beyond are two other falls known as
Upper and Lower Elysium offering just as pleasant views
Other
attractions are the two lakes. The one plumb in the town is the Ward Lake, a
 |
| Our living room |
serene body of water surrounded by green hills. Beautifully maintained, with a
botanical garden thrown in, it was always a pleasure to spend some time in the
midst of nature. We would walk over to it, stroll around on its winding paved
pathways lined with flower-beds, stand on its picturesque bridge feeding fish
and then retire to the cafeteria for a refreshing cup of coffee.
The
other one is much bigger, the Umiam Lake, commonly known as Barra Paani. Only 17 kilometres away
from the town it is a picture-postcard country with the blues of the skies
reflected by the water of the expansive Lake fringed by green hills.
 |
| Another view of the living room |
Offering
facilities of various kinds for water-sports at the Lake, the Meghalaya Tourism
runs a Charles Correa-designed Orchid Lake Resort with well-appointed rooms.
We, however, just sat around out in the open, taking in what nature so
generously offered.
Known
for its orchids, Meghalaya claims to host 600 of the 800 species that are found
in the country. I found a few blooming on wayside trees which I promptly
captured on film. The Orchidarium run by the
 |
| A fall on way to Cherrapunji |
Botanical Survey of India offers a
large collection of them under one roof. We were lucky to see several varieties
in bloom. We also saw for the first time in our life the pitchers with
blood-red lips of the carnivorous pitcher-plants that the Botanical Survey
grows in its extensive gardens. Some of the pitchers were of impressive
proportions.
With
so much of greenery around, the place had to have a generous population of
butterflies. For the visitors the Museum of Butterflies is a must-see,
something which we never saw anywhere in the country.
Shopping
is mostly in what is known as “Police Bazaar” or the more sophisticated
Laitumukhrah. Burra Bazaar, “Iewduh” as the locals call it, however,
is an interesting tiered shopping complex on a hill-slope. From shoes, cloth
and sundry other items to everything edible is available in this huge complex
that is somewhat like an ethnic mall. Pineapples, my favourite fruit, were dirt
cheap. Dolled up Khasi women, wearing traditional aprons with colourful
chequered shawls can be seen selling fish
 |
| Wards Lake |
or betel-nuts, locally known as khowai. While porters carry loaded
baskets suspended from their foreheads, people shop, haggle or simply chat in
the midst of this relentlessly on-the-move humanity. Although not for the
squeamish, its USP is its uniqueness.
For
diversion there is the 18-hole Shillong Golf Course, once reportedly listed
among the world’s most beautiful one hundred golf courses by the Readers’
Digest. Close to the town, its picturesque fairways and greens attract even
non-golfers. Diversion for the more ordinary, however, are the archery contests
held every afternoon in the Polo Ground. Betting and imbibing fiery local
 |
| A Pitcher plant |
brews
go hand in hand evoking varying emotions – heights of euphoria and depths of
depression.
Though
Cherrapunji has yielded its place to Mausinram as the wettest place on earth,
its earlier reputation drew us to it. With about 800 inches of rain per annum,
we had imagined a dense tropical forest of sorts. At the end of the 55
kilometre trip we were amazed to see a bald plateau, bereft of all vegetation.
All that rain simply runs over the rocky surface and down the precipices into Bangladesh.
The trip was,
 |
| Forseted road sides |
nevertheless, made memorable by a few remarkable way-side
water-falls and the view from Cherrapunji of the plains of Bangladesh a few
thousand feet below.
A
melting pot of several ethnic groups – north-eastern tribes, Nepalese, Bengalees
and other non-tribals – Shillong is, perhaps the most cosmopolitan of towns in
the north-east. Its bracing climate, natural endowments, hanging mists, its
flowers, its
Tudor houses (locally called Assam-type) and, above all, the
friendly and colourful people make it an out-of-the-ordinary place for those
who crave for new experiences. Devoid of spectacular views of mountain-snows,
it is a hill-station with a character. Ours, indeed, was a pleasant and
rewarding sojourn.
 |
| Roadside orchids |
During
a part of my stay, Late Purno Sangma was the chief minister. I found him
generally wearing an infectious smile. He told me he, though of Garo stock, was
in fact not born in Meghalaya but in Sushong, a place in Moymansingh District
now in Bangladesh just below the Garo Hills, where my father, too, hailed from.
He told me he was building roads in Shillong, as, he said, the place needed
good roads and indeed in a few months most of the roads were done up It was a
pleasant experience to have met a chief minister who seemed to have had no
airs.
Being
in-charge of the North-eastern states I had to travel to all of them. My
impressions on each will follow.
