Why do I keep reminding myself of
this trip? There are several reasons: the foremost being it was among the last couple
of trips when we didn’t have to care about applying for leaves to go on a
holiday. And then of course, there were 16 of us, to-be engineers in the last
semester. Oh, and we could spend out of our dad’s pockets! And there were other
reasons which we discovered after reaching there. It was a small secluded village
in the north of West Bengal, nested in the tranquil lap of Himalayas .
The graffiti on walls depicted the voice of the locals: “Fulfill our demand for
a new state: Gorkhaland” but there was not a speck of blood. Peace reigned
supreme. This place goes by the name ‘Lolegaon’.
One March afternoon, after lunch,
we decided to leave the comforts of the cottage of the Forest Department we had
unpacked ourselves in, to breathe the fresh air so lacking in the city we had
escaped from. So we walked. Unplanned as it always used to be, in those days.
It was sunny but the sun was not cruel. Within ten minutes, we were at a point
where the road forked: one towards the market (well, a market in Lolegaon means
a maximum of eight thatched houses: two selling food to the occassional
tourists, another two cigarette and paan, two handicrafts and souvenirs and two
grocery) and the other of which we had no clue. After a short stint roaming
about in the “market”, we decided to go for a walk along the path which
certainly appeared to be less treaded. One of us pointed,”Look at the board!”
We turned to where his fingers pointed: Canopy Walk: 1.5 km. Nodding at once, we
had already made up our mind.
Walking along the forsaken path
gossiping, we reached another even more deserted place called the “Canopy
Walk”. It had a board with its name and a ticket-counter. We’d thought, it
would be some fancy park. We were wrong; truly happy to be wrong! The ticket-counter
was closed; probably it had closed long back due to lack of tourists. We
exchanged glances: “But that doesn’t stop us from exploring the inside, does
it?” In a minute, we were inside the vast Canopy Walk. The government had
stopped pouring money for maintenance; wilderness sprang forth in all possible
directions and magnitude. We were walking inside a forest! Thankfully, we
didn’t have hosts fiercer than monkeys or dogs. There was no direction-board.
Dogs came to our rescue. We followed them and reached what we called the
“Hanging bridge”: a wonderful wooden bridge held by ropes on its sides, made
more beautiful by the sheer lack of maintenance. Well, no river had to be
crossed; it was simply a bridge that probably saved you from feral creatures
who despised heights! We climbed on it gleefully. At the same time, we were
skeptical of the bridge’s ability to tolerate our increasing body-weights. The
engineers had done a good job- so we could cheer and hoot insanely as we
crossed what was to us more adventurous than crossing the famous Ram-Jhula. We
sat on a huge fallen tree and clicked photographs! Suddenly, we realized:
“There could be more falling ON us!” Thus we fled! On our way back, we picked some
sticks and started fighting- oh, nothing serious, we just posed for the lenses.
Relaxing on a fallen tree & posing for a fight!
As we walked back towards the
junction where we’d seen the board showing the distance of “Canopy Walk”,
another board which had earlier escaped our eyes was “Sunset Point: 1.5 km”. From
what we guessed, we still had about an hour to reach before sunset. Enough
time. So we set out. It had been 200 meters and we were undecided: two roads diverged
and again we were reminded of Frost’s “The Road Not Taken”. We, however, hardly
wanted it to make any difference; prosaic that we were, only sunset interested
us. And then out of nowhere appeared a dog- a black one. It stopped before us,
looked at us and started springing along one of the roads. One of us said-“Let’s
follow him. He knows the road.” Some nodded at the idea, smilingly. Others
laughed out loud, totally dismissing the thought. But we had little choice. We
had to choose one before it was too late. We knew, if we took the wrong one, we
could miss the sunset. We followed him.
And it made a difference! We realized that after half an hour (or may be even more) of strenuous trek along a steep narrow track which can barely be separately identified as a route from the dense foliage, but for the generous pathfinder who led us all along the way to the top, ensuring at regular intervals that none of us were left behind in this tremendously exhausting exercise. One of us wittily remarked, “This is 1.5 km of vertical height!” We doubted if we could reach the top before sunset. But, there was no looking back once we had chosen to be part of it. The path, strewn all over by leaves, branches and fallen trees, was almost always inaccessible and we had to make our way through it by tactically using our hands and feet. Eventually, we made it. Felt like champions!
Elated and tired. Never been more
tired. The sun was still there- waiting for us. The only reason we figured out
that this place was actually the Sunset Point was that there were a couple of
benches. Besides the sixteen of us, there was nobody. As we waited for the sun
to hide behind the mighty mountains, somehow we gathered strength to “play”
that age-old game of Antakshari. Now that’s the advantage of being in a forlorn
place; you can sing your heart out. We were so engrossed in our game that we
never realized that a couple had also reached there, silently sitting on the
other bench, listening to us, arms around each other. They were such a
remarkably adventure-loving honeymoon-couple, sharing the victory-stand with
us.
As we sat on a rock, enjoying the
most pleasant view from the top, I realized that our guide, the dog, was
silently relaxing, eyes fixated at the Sun as the sky turned from blue to
yellow, then to orange and blood-red before going dark. Indeed, the dog had
guided us to the serenest place. I was reminded of the Mahabharata where a dog
had accompanied the Pandavas during their ascent to heaven. We were no
Yudhisthir but this poor creature had taken the pains to guide us to the
gateway to heaven- indeed, what sight is more fascinating than watching the
changing colors of nature! We were overwhelmed: we sat still in silence;
believe me, it’s a momentous task for a group of sixteen young guys from
college; but we did feel a force that calmed us down. The sun only went behind
the clouds and it wasn’t the most perfect sunset in technical terms. But, the
beauty of the entire setting had left us spell-bound. Suddenly we realized it
was getting dark and that we had to tread the same path through the jungle to
reach the main road. It wasn’t easy, either. We knew that we had found a guide,
of the most unbelievable kind, one who did not expect anything in return. He was
the most incredible host, showing us his home around, leading us to a heavenly
abode, living true to the cliched- “Atithi devo bhava”- the poor creature
upholds to this day in my minds, the philosophy of an ideal Indian host.
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