December 22, 2023, Debarath Das/On this day, we four friends with an insatiable appetite for adventure embarked on a journey through the enchanting landscapes of Sohra Cherrapunji. Our exploration was made all the more memorable by the company of Pappu, a carefree guy, short in stature, M. Com pass, and our amiable Innova driver. Pappu became more than a guide, weaving tales of the region as he navigated us through Meghalaya's pine trees and fold mountains.
On our way, we indulged in a full breakfast, basking in the sun-soaked ambiance. The feast included omelets, Pahadi Maggie (noodles), bread omelets, and buttered bread. Pappu, our newfound friend, joined in the feast, blurring the lines between driver and companion.
The journey unfolded with several stops, each revealing a different facet of Meghalaya's charm. At times, our birikhor friend and Pappu sought a cigarette break, while at one instance, I climbed a vast hill, reaching the high point of the Khasi Hills. The panoramic view was nothing short of majestic, leaving an indelible mark on our adventure.
As the predominantly Christian community welcomed us, we discovered the availability of cheap wine shops. Seizing the opportunity, we grabbed a few bottles, adding a local touch to our travel experience. Frequent vegetable and meat shops lined the route, featuring the hearts of cattle hanging on hooks – a surprising yet fascinating revelation. The cleanliness of the villages took me by surprise, reflecting the pride the locals took in their surroundings. The geographical conditions had shaped the stature of the people, making them notably short.
The homestay welcomed us around 8 pm, and after settling in our room, we instructed Gilbert to craft a tantalizing pork curry. Despite the challenge of damp wood, a clever assist from Kerosene Pappu brought the bonfire to life. With a purchase of wood at 200 rupees, we had an evening ablaze. As the flickering flames danced, we uncorked an old monk, concocted drinks with lukewarm water, and delved into animated conversations.
In the midst of our banter, we couldn't resist asking Pappu about settling in the hills. Even though we knew the constraints of special provisions for ST areas, the discussion took a humorous turn. A friend, having consumed half the bottle, led the conversation towards the complexities of marrying a Khasi girl, learning that it wouldn't secure land but might result in her community outcasting her. The topic swiftly transitioned to various life crises, especially considering the group's marital age.
Amidst the camaraderie, Gilbert presented a culinary masterpiece – a pork dish showcasing low oil and culinary finesse, leaving our bellies as satisfyingly full as those of a character in a Bukowski novel. The evening unfolded with the warmth of the bonfire, resonating laughter, and a tapestry of memories painted against the backdrop of the night sky. Discussions ranged from profound reflections on life to lighthearted tales of affairs and ex-girlfriends.
Reflection on the Journey echoes of Jack Kerouac's On the Road
As the first light embraced the contours of the morning, I couldn't help but feel a kinship with the pages of Jack Kerouac's "On the Road." Much like Sal Paradise's restless search for meaning, our journey through Sohra Cherrapunji unfolded with an innate desire to connect with the raw beauty of nature and the whispers of untold stories.
At 5 in the morning, amidst the chill that clung to the air, I surrendered myself to the elements, a ritual reminiscent of Kerouac's characters who sought solace and revelation in the embrace of the dawn. The pilgrimage to the stream behind our homestay mirrored Sal's pursuit of the open road—a canvas for self-discovery and revelations.
The stream, a silent witness to the tales woven by the hills of East Khasi, mirrored the landscapes Kerouac's characters traversed—a convergence of nature's poetry and our own nomadic symphony. The touch of a small waterfall, a tactile communion with the essence of the hills, echoed the unspoken connection Sal felt with the landscapes he encountered.
In this quiet rendezvous with nature, our caretaker Gilbert assumed the role of a maestro, crafting a cup of tea that mirrored the hues of the morning sun. The dance beside the stream, a whimsical interplay with rocks and sunlight, echoed the spontaneous moments cherished by Kerouac's wanderers.
As the scent of tea lingered upon my return to the room, and the melody of the stream played softly in the background, the transient nature of our sojourn became palpable. Much like Sal's transient encounters, our nomadic symphony beckoned us to the next destination, pulling us with the allure of unexplored narratives.
Before bidding adieu to the temporary sanctuary provided by our homestay, I found myself embracing Gilbert in a bro hug—a gesture of gratitude for his silent orchestration of our Sohra saga. In this fleeting connection, I glimpsed the camaraderie that Kerouac's characters forged on their journeys—a bond woven by the shared melodies of the road and the silent orchestrations of those who become companions, if only for a brief stretch of the journey.
