This is a three musketeers story of sorts. The three musketeers in this story were me and my friends. Only, instead of arms, we had our backpacks and spinners. We were on an adventure that took us to Meghalaya, the abode of clouds.
We flew first to Delhi and from there to Guwahati with our minds flying faster than the flights. From Guwahati, it took three hours to get to Shillong. The next morning we took a shared sumo from Shillong Bara Bazaar to Cherrapunji which was our base. The three hour ride from Shillong to Cherrapunji was a scenic one. On the sides of the road, tiny waterfalls and small lakes popped out every now and then. As the vehicle started ascending, we could see clouds in cascades. It felt like they were coming down in groups to welcome us. At that moment, I was sure that this was where clouds were born, lived, and became one with nature.
We rented a room at a backpacker’s place named By The Way run by Heprit. Our first target of exploration that day was the famous Mawshmai cave. The narrow passages of the cave that went higher up till the exit were filled with stalactites and stalagmites. The cave expedition took us fifteen minutes.
It was getting darker and we had to get to the Seven Sisters Falls which was close by. That’s the thing about Meghalaya. By 4 pm, the sun starts setting and by 5:30 pm darkness engulfs the whole place. We walked around and found our way to the falls. The falls look their collective best when the monsoon is at its peak. Since the monsoons had subsided all we could see was one small fall and several silver threads instead of the gurgling ensemble that we really wanted to see. Soon, it got darker and we hitchhiked our way back to By The Way.
Heprit called on us once we were back in the room. He was nice enough to suggest the local food joints and arrange a guide for us to visit the Mawmlaw cave. Thus, we had our schedule charted out for the next day.
We checked out one of the local jha-chas that Heprit suggested for dinner. Jha-chas are Khasi food joints often run by local ladies which sell everyday Khasi dishes. In Khasi, jha means “rice” and cha means “tea”. Locals frequent these small shops to have their daily meals. Other than rice, roti, different meat delicacies (pork and chicken forming a sizeable portion of the staple food), and one or two vegetable dishes, they also sell biscuits and such. Most people have tea along with rice even for breakfast. One can choose what all they want to have with their rice or roti from the cornucopia of local delicacies displayed in big vessels. Even if you choose to taste ladles of every item, the cost never comes up to more than fifty rupees. From then on, we tried to eat from the jha-chas whenever we could as it helped us save a lot while never failing to satiate our palates.
We were in our beds chatting when the power went off. Our room did not have an attached toilet. Bathroom and toilets were outside. Dan came with me since it was pitch dark outside. When we stepped outside our room, we were so awestruck by the sight that awaited us. It was as if the heavens had opened up. The sky was teeming with stars who seemed to be in competition with each other to shine on earth. That was the first time I saw shooting stars and constellations so bright and shimmering. Being a new moon day, even the moon was not there to outshine the stars. We stood there star-struck gazing at the sky on the dark deserted road. There were only us and the stars to infiltrate the night. And on that starlit night, we saw the Milky Way. It was just like how it was in the pictures. Only clearer with stardust spilt in huge patches. That was a sight unlike anything we have ever seen. I went to sleep feeling so happy. It felt nice to know that the stars were watching over us.
The sun came peeping through our window around 4 am. All set to visit the famous cave, we started our day by having a cup of tea from a nearby jha-cha. Bun, our guide, and Bit our chauffeur (these are real-life names) turned up around 8 am. Heprit had taken real pains in finding all the three of us helmets since our guide did not have three with him. Without the helmet nobody was allowed inside the cave. I was going to realise very soon, why.
Bun told us the cave was beneath a mine. There was a few minutes’ walk before we reached the cave. The rocks were treacherously slippery. At the first step itself my foot slipped and I toppled over. Without the helmet I would have hit my head pretty badly and sustained serious injuries. Bun walked ahead of us and got up the cave mouth. The rest of us followed clambering up. And it began. What lay ahead of us was way more than my imagination could ever stretch itself.
It was pitch dark inside and there was water that reached till one’s waist at certain points. The cave was like a maze which had many caverns and pathways. Without a guide one can never make it out from there. Soon the space through which we could manoeuvre ourselves became restricted. Flowing water occupied most of the space. Sometimes you had to balance yourself on narrow strips of rock formations and calcium deposits since there was not enough ground to place your feet. There were many pits, hollows, and dips into which you could fall. One misstep could break your bones.
It did not stop there. Ensconced inside the cave were colonies of bats. When our flash lights moved, they flew past us scaring the wits out of me. We could see spiders and bats resting on the walls. The thought of accidentally touching one of them sent shivers across my spine. All we could hear besides our own footsteps and the sound of muddy waters was the occasional wing beats of bats. We did not want to think about what all could have been lurking under the waters. I was so jittery that I thought I would hear “my precious” from somewhere nearby any moment. I could not keep the thoughts of Gollums and vampires out of my mind. The place was ideal for such creatures. Dark, damp, and deserted. Most of the times we could not stand straight. Often we hit our heads and had to crouch low in order to move forward. At one point, we had to crawl for around 250 metres.
Time seemed to be slowing down. Hours never seemed to pass. Bit had told us that once inside the cave, it would take us five hours to get to the exit. Never being an adventurous spirit, the only thing that kept me going was the desire to find the exit. After what felt like ages, we reached a chamber full of stalactites where we could move around freely looking at them in awe. After spending some time there, we started our ascent to the exit. We had to lift our legs so high to climb over the rocks to keep ourselves going up the tapering pathway.
Finally, we reached the exit unscathed except for minor cuts and bruises. The exit looked like a strip of an Amazonian jungle. The greenery and the vegetation were all so exotic. But that was only a momentary solace. We had to climb a steep hill wading our way through thick grasses and thorny plants. There were places where either the ground was not firm enough or the trail was blocked by broken branches. Up and up we went till we reached a point where the hill jutted out to provide us with a breath-taking view of the verdant hills. From there, it was an easy climb down. That was the most adventurous and reckless thing that I have ever done and probably will ever do in my life.
The next day, I woke up with every inch of my body aching. Bit had come to pick us up in the morning. We went for sightseeing around Cherrapunji. Our first halt was the Welsh church and its surroundings of which the graveyard fascinated me the most. One had to climb the grassy hill to reach the graveyard. Prominent graves had stone structures of various geometric shapes marking them. Other graves were hidden behind grasses. Pink and violet blooms sprouted and spread among the green and yellow grass where ever eyes could reach. Standing there one could see the whole village. It was as if the departed souls were watching over their kith and kin separated by life and death. Shrouded in mist, the place was filled with an eerie silence. It occurred to me that I was inside the pages of Gaiman’s Graveyard Book.
We left the souls once again to their solitude and headed for Laitmawsiang, a small village near Cherrapunji. The village eco-park was one enchanting place bereft of the throngs of regular tourists. The entire place encircled a stream that flowed down from different points in the hillock which can be accessed by climbing down steps and crossing little bridges. The bottom of the steps led to a grotto veiled by a waterfall.
After having a sumptuous lunch from a jha-cha that included chicken curry, mix veggies, fried fish, and pork balls, we went ahead to see the famous Dainthlen waterfalls. It was a bit far from Laitmawsiang. The journey took us through meandering country roads adorned by grasslands and waterbodies. On the rocky banks of small lakes, jain-sem-clad women washed and dried their clothes. On the way, we got a bottle of local rice beer which looked very much like toddy but tasted different. What was special about the falls was the supernatural tale associated with it; the tale of U-Thlen, the snake vampire who fed on humans.
Khasis are born story tellers. Their folklores are soaked in myth and memory. U-Thlen’s is one such tale from very long ago.
Yet another interesting story was that of a woman named Likai who ended her life by jumping off a waterfall. It was this waterfall which is Asia’s tallest plunge waterfall that awaited us towards the end of our sightseeing stint.
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I had never seen a waterfall so majestic. The falls took a roller-coaster ride from the lush forests uphill and plunged deep down into the gorge to form a pool of bluish water. From where we stood, the water looked like milky foam while plummeting down to the pool below. Tracing the falling patterns of foamy waters with your eyes had a slow motion effect.
Like the Khasis believe, every bit of universe is alive and some life is older than stories and memories. The next day’s journey was to such a place. Where life was ancient as the hills and falls where it grew older and coursed through the trees and grass filling everything with gramarye and grace.
Bit dropped us at Tyrna by 9 am the next day. Getting to Nongriat meant climbing up and down around 3500 steps. There were many spiders which stood still in their huge gossamer webs, seemingly oblivious of the passing time like hermits. Around us flitted butterflies in all kinds of flashy colours and patterns. Some of them looked really exotic to our urbanised eyes. Both my photographer friends feasted on the pretty blue bottles, common imperials, swallowtails, maps, and many more of such winged beauties. The abundance of other unfamiliar insects explained the copious fly trap blooms.
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We climbed down the steps until we reached the gorge where we had to cross two suspension bridges made of iron ropes and another root bridge. Somewhere in between two dogs joined us vying to show us the way ahead. On our way we witnessed various facets of pristine wilderness that was untroubled by the perils of tourism.
After several bottles of water, bars of snickers, and many pit stops we crossed the root bridge and entered the village of Nongriat. Then it started raining as if Nongriat was welcoming us. That was the first shower we experienced in Meghalaya. Soaking wet with rain and sweat, we reached the home stay just in time to see the giant rainbow – one with all the seven colours flaunting- and a second one emerging beneath it. It was a beautiful sight. Byron, our host, told us that in their culture, it was nature signalling the rains had come to an end and that we were lucky to witness it.
One of the main attractions of the homestay was the proximity to the double decker root bridge. It was just around the corner. Of course that was what brought us there in the first place. However, as for me, I was in love with the innate tranquillity of that place. The solitude of the place was only broken by the rhythmic flow water from the stream. The sound of water pervaded Nongriat’s every nook and corner. The village and its surrounding hills were alive by that very sound. People who came and stayed there found it difficult to tear themselves from it and turn back to where they had originally come from.
The local people of Nongriat had to travel a long way to buy their essentials. Most of them went to the weekly Cherrapunji market to get the stuff needed for the week which they carried on their backs to the village since Nongriat was cut off from the rest of the town because of the lack of roads. Despite their toil, the villagers did not want a road. They felt that the throngs of tourists that followed in its wake would ruin their village.
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We spent our first two days mostly at the root bridge sitting by the stream. In the evenings, we walked around the village. Nongriat was a little village perched on the hills dotted with arecanut trees. Winding steps acted as roads connecting the housing areas. Every house had vegetable gardens and flocks of chickens. Our initial plan was to spend just two nights at Nongriat and then go over to Shnompedang, a village near Dawki. But we decided to stay on for one more day and go directly to Shillong deleting Shonmpedang from our itinerary.
On the third day morning, we set off to see the Rainbow Falls. To get to the falls you had to go outside the village and walk through the forest for a couple of hours. The climb-ups and downs were tiring. But the wilderness was ethereal riddled only with the sounds of birds and lapping waters other than us. Here also there were a lot of spiders, butterflies, and other insects.
The forest was like the one you read in your fantasy stories. It was so bewitching that it was impossible not to think of it as a dwelling place of magical creatures. There could have been unicorns and dragons roaming around. There could also have been invisible wood nymphs and fairies watching over us. Following the steps we reached the end of the trail which left us at a place where the forest came together with the sky, the hills, and the river. Water spilled down from the surrounding hills in falls of various magnitudes. The one in the centre was the mightiest of them all. It crashed on the rocks below making the droplets kiss the beams of light and conjured rainbows in their wake. We risked our way down through the treacherous rocks to get a closer look of the whole spectacle. By the time we got back sweat was running in rivulets all over our bodies. We just went and immersed ourselves in the water beneath the root bridge and sat there until the water washed away all our weariness. We left Nongriat the next morning and reached Shillong in the evening. We had become so attached to Nongriat, we found it extremely difficult to say our goodbyes.
The next day, we went to Dawki which was near the Bangladeshi border. The rickety roads and scorching heat made the journey a fiasco. The more we approached the border the hotter and dustier it became. Our much awaited canoe ride lasted less than ten minutes. As someone who is from the land of backwaters boating meant so much more to me. I wanted to explore the Dawki a bit further and see the daily sights the riverside offered. But all the boatman was interested in, was to take us to the Bangladeshi border where the river flowed on beyond the border rope to the plains of Bangladesh. Dawki visit was over in about half an hour. From there we proceeded to Mawlynnong, the cleanest village of Asia.
Mawlynnong was indeed a clean village. But so was every other village we had seen in Meghalaya. The difference was that Mawlynnong was open to tourists. Tourists walked through the narrow lanes, yards, and open fields of the village. Some of them even gawked at the insides of the houses. It was as if the village life was being put on a show. I thought resentment flashed on some of the villagers’ faces. I felt we were intruding into their privacy.
Early in the next morning, we set out to see the famous Shillong Golf Course. After that little morning walk, we packed our bags and set off to our next stay which was in Laitumkrah. The place we booked was called Verdant Inn. It was a beautiful colonial bungalow nestled among trees and ferns. The whole place was so green and cool. After our limited-facility-budget-stay stints, we were thrilled to be in such an awesome place.
The next day was Dan’s birthday. We spent that morning exploring the Shillong museum and the rest of the afternoon café hopping. Exhausted, we came back to Verdant Inn to spend our last night in Shillong.
The next day we left for Shillong airport in the morning. As the flight took off, the last ten days kept flashing through my mind. I could feel Nongriat calling me back. It reminded me of the little piece of myself that I had left there. That was the promise of returning once again to that magical place where life was older than the trees and younger than the mountains.