A drive to remember!

This was ridiculous! We had been roaming the roads of Gangtok looking for a guide and a vehicle to take us to the famous Nathula Pass and Changu lake. We had checked in with a hotel that promised us a package including the trip to the Pass and Lake, but like usual hotels, citing unavoidable circumstances, backed out. Just plain...backed out. After a loud argument and few unshed tears, we left the hotel in search of a travel agent in Gangtok who would take us to the coveted places. Unknown city and a chill night coupled with the irritation of locating an agent...I was almost sobbing. We finally located it- Sunshine Tours and Travels. The owner was a kind understanding guy. Few minutes later, I was glad I ended up in his office. Our travel applications were ready. Now we awaited the permits which would be issued only the next day.

 

Sunrise in Gangtok is pure Heaven.

Sunrise from the roof top of our hotel

 

Clouds floating beneath, the pink peaks of Kanchendzonga shining in the early morning sun...birds chirping all around, roses and daisies in full bloom and me sipping a cup of warm chaai cuccooned with the mister, watching the sunrise. We started early and our permits were ready by ten o clock only. Nima- the gift of our Sikkim Tour was driving the Innova. He knew the mountains like the back of his hand. A simple and down to earth person, he loved us Madrasis to the core. Our Hindi astounded him. " Memsahib...tum to bahut achche hindi bholte ho", he used to say once in a while. The drive of 54 kms from Gangtok to Nathula is one journey you have to undertake, if you want to know what a spectacular scenic and thriller ride is!

Clouds drifting apart and the winding road in between!

The entire drive reminded me of cliff-hanger!

The road built and maintained by the Border Roads Organisation is indeed a marvel. Criss crossing valleys and negotiating bends, climbing cliffs and rolling down the slopes, the journey was made memorable by spectacular sights of mist floating by, innumerable waterfalls and occasional sighting of yaks! As we climbed altitude, my breakfast threatened to make its way up which I pushed down with all my might. As whit sheets of snow slowly came visible, I felt incredibly hungry. And we slowed down at a small town for a snack of piping hot momos. A visit to the North East is incomplete without a plate of momos dipped in chilli sauce. Lip smacking momos came to the table, but my eyes were riveted elsewhere...The sight from the window of the tiny motel was magical and dreamy.

The best view from a window!

As we continued our climb, sheets of melting snow gurgling as little waterfalls all along and lazy yaks grazing the little grass left, the mighty mountains unfolded in myriad maze of white and brown. We crossed semi-frozen lakes and quaint villages. As we crossed Sherathang, we were surprised to see the highest ATM of Punjab National Bank at 14000 feet! The Army post located nearby must have been blessed with this ATM! The ascent through Changu lake is a sight that one can never forget, with snow playing hide and seek.

Highest ATM of PNB, Sherathang

 

One of the many serene lakes

Our drive and us

Without stopping by, we continued to the Nathula Pass, where we had to walk almost a kilometre up the snow, thanks to a traffic jam. A traffic snarl at 14000 feet is unimaginable and the walk to the pass' entry and climb up the flight of stairs leading to the Indo- China Border is no mean feat. My father aged 60 and my baby girl aged 6 then were the happier ones enjoying the climb, while I was huffing and puffing like a rail engine on the rocky mountains...Few pictures at the summit and we were happily playing with the snow, throwing balls at each other and pushing each other on the soft bed of snow.

Finally! At Nathula Pass

On the way back, Nima took us to another small eatery, rather a home where we were served chow-mein and I wandered out as always to play with a huge yak on the road. He seemed unperturbed and cool. As I inched close for a picture, the camera-shy guy was so nervous that he almost touched the edge of the cliff.

Poor yak!

The yak ride in Changu was another adventure. The little yak that was supposed to carry me looked at me with utter disbelief. A good 80 kilos, I was too worried that his back would break. But the little one seemed well mannered and handed me back safe to my family. The drive back was swift, Nima keeping the conversation live and active as I dozed on and off, now used to the tumble and rumble in my stomach. It has been almost a year since our drive to Nathula, but the memories of the snow sheathed mountains remain fresh, tucked away in a safe corner of my heart. To reminisce and ponder on what a drive it was!

Enjoying the traffic snarl at 14000 feet, playing with the snow!

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As I Fall...

This post has been picked by blog adda as a WOW post!

Tring Tring...the phone rang...

 

The shrill tone echoed along the long dank corridor. Footsteps rushed to pick up the phone. Then ensued a free-for-all and finally the receiver ended up with the little guy in his white pyjamas. His mouth still wet and smudged with red cream, he yelled a loud "Hellooooooo". The lady in a black satin night gown stood beside him, her long hair tumbling down her curvy back. She looked pale and exhausted but a smile dazzlingly lit up her beautiful face. " Pappa!", exclaimed the little guy with all his might. And as a chill hand touched my shoulder, I turned and looked straight into her face...the face contrite with unshed tears and something else simmering deep inside- agony. My throat goes dry...

 

The phone rings...tring tring...The shrill tone echoes along the corridor. the smell of fresh cake being baked touched his nostrils and the little guy in white pyjamas runs towards it. So does his mother- the beautiful lady with long tresses that almost kissed her waist with her every footstep. The playful tiff  ends with the little one winning the fight and yelling a mighty "Pappa!" over the phone. This happens almost every night, as I watch them in the adjacent flat, from my fourteenth floor balcony, holding my cigar, reminiscing my non existent family. The call from the young man who is employed abroad and the two loving souls who run to talk to the man of their lives...hmmmm...

 

With a wife divorced years back and no kids to hold on to, my life is just the routine and mundane "run of the mill. All I want is a loving hand to hug me tight and call me "Pappa!". And she- the most adorable woman I've seen all my life. What kind of a man would live life apart from such love and beauty? Her husky voice when she sings to her son, her elegance in black sarees, her lovely locks of soft and wavy hair...Oh God...I am mad with want, hungry with need. It was one such dark starry night that I went knocking their door. I had heard her bedtime story being read out with warmth and the ensuing silence must have emboldened me.

 

I knocked on the door and waited with bated breath as she opened the door wide, her smile lighting up her whole face and my whole being. The smell of freshly baked cake floats around the hall as I walk behind her, adoring her long tresses and curvy back. She insists on having a coffee as I watch her moves with lust and longing. Unable to resist my feelings anymore, I pull her waist from behind. Unexpected of the sudden movement, she turns, flips and falls back with her head hitting the granite counter top. Blood gushes out as a stream...flowing freely on the kitchen floor as I watch stupefied with horror. She lies still and it takes me just two full minutes to register that she is dead...plain dead. Sweating and panting, I turn to run, as the little one in his white pyjamas stands near the kitchen door clutching his Tom teddy, his eyes wide with fear. His mouth still is wet and smudged with the red cream from his favourite cake. Shit! I try to think fast. What did he see? He shouldn't be alive...is what my head orders me.

 

" I didn't do anything", I yell, as he tries to kick himself free from my vice like grip. I grab the big Tom teddy and push the little one on the ground, smothering him. His limbs flail and try to grab something, anything...And I could reach the phone cord. Pulling it around his neck and smothering his groans with the teddy, I exert all my energy in wringing his tiny neck. His limbs loosen and finally he lies still...I run fast from the house, so fast as my legs could carry me and rest only when I reach the confines of my home.

 

I try to wet my parched lips and shriek at the top of my voice. But I can muster just a weak ahhhhh....I wrest myself free from her grip and the hollowed eyes of her little son. I finally break free, the cigar in my hand still intact. As I tumble to my death fourteen floors from my balcony, all I can see is her long tresses of hair rolling along my death and her soft husky voice reading the usual bed time story.

 

Tring Tring...the phone rang and rang and rang....

 

 

This post is a part of  Write Over the Weekend an initiative for Indian Bloggers by Blogadda.