COME AWAY WITH ME

The last time I was there, it was drizzling. It was getting dark and I, tired, huddled closer to Mom in the left hand side of the back seat of the sea blue Ambassador car while my uncle drove, fast, swerving carefully at the curves, commenting every now and then about how we should have got home earlier. My aunt, sitting next to him in the front seat kept repeating that ‘but the children ennjoyed, right?’ The car windows were rolled up tight and there was a light film of mist on them. Oblivious of everything, my cousin bounced up and down in the far right hand corner of the back seat and sang, “Rain, rain go away, little Johnny wants to play….hmm…hmm…!!!” I dozed off to the hum of my cousin and the rhythmic drone of the car engine while a slightly heavier downpour lashed the car windows.

A couple of years ago, in October, a couple of friends decided to just let down our hair. We left Guwahati at 8.30 of a warmer than usual morning. Kyan was at the wheels of our car and drove as smoothly as possibly, while I reclined in the front seat and listened to Boyzone.

A small prayer at the Ganesh Temple and we were on our way. A little ahead of us, was the other car. Ankita would roll down her glasses and wave at us. And Rishi as usual was up to his antics of slowing down, letting us go and then whizzing past us at break-neck speed.

It was a beautiful morning. I had probably travelled more than a hundred times on that same road but every time seemed like the first.The trees lining the highway were turning sienna brown with fading streaks of green peeping through, swaying to the breeze.

As usual, on entering Shillong, we could see little girls, colourfully dressed in chequered skirts, a jacket slung over the shoulders, dainty strappy sandals, with their pink faces fresh as the morning dew. Even the wrinkled old woman selling kwai(Betel nut) at the corner of the road exudes a strange sort of mystic romanticism.

We reached Shillong at 11.30am and decided on a quick lunch at Police Bazar or Khyndailad as the Khasis call it, after which we spiralled up the steep road to Cherrapunji, around 58 kms from Shillong. I so hoped it would rain. The weather was just right and I was in the mood to write poems. “Stay here!” the green hills echoed.

We were already at 4500 feet at Cherrapunji. With a Guinness record of having the highest rainfall in the world, Cherrapunji was transformed to a literal valley of rivers and rivulets when in 1861, it was lashed with a stunning rainfall of 22, 987 mm of rainfall. The annual average rainfall of Cherrapunji today stands at 10,871 millimeters. Now, it’s Mysynram, barely 10 km from Cherrapunji with a record 12,163 mm of rainfall!

The heaviest showers come in May through September. The tin roofed houses dotting the hills and the dales are literally whipped by the heavy downpour, drumming to a harmonic crescendo. This definitely reminds me of my all time favourite singer, Norah Jones as she hums in her atypical voice,

“Come away with me……

In the night…”

We were tired when we reached Sa-ya-mika Park Resort and I hit the bed immediately.

It was 5am and a soft rap on the ventilator woke me up. It was a small bird with a long beak before I could see it, it was gone. Ankita was already up and sipping tea with the boys in the verandah, which overlooked a small swimming pool and a basketball court.

A spirited young lad, Knew was to be our guide that morning. He took us through the road, where atop a small hillock we saw the Ramkrishna Mission Higher Secondary School. We crossed a basti, Khlisnong and noticed monoliths. Knew  rambled out quite a story about the stones. “These are Syiemlihs or graves in memory of our ancestors. Since they were heavy, every time they were required to stand erect, a human or an animal was sacrificed.” Our jaws fell open!

Next stop, the Nokalikai Falls. Knew this time started narrating about the falls; the spine-chilling story of the husband who fed his wife her baby when she wanted to eat meat. She jumped to her death in the falls. The water that goes down the hills is actually her hair!

Sohra market was brimming with exotic fruits and vegetables. Ankita and I went searching for honey and chanced on P. Parameswaran Elayath, the man who makes the best honey in Sohra. Unfortunately, he had sold out everything!

The Mawsmai caves close by are a fascinating labyrinth of underground passages, beneath age-old hills-an absolute dream for amateur explorers. The sights inside were breathtaking!

Once the clouds disappear, one can see as far as Bangladesh. And at the same spot, we chanced upon the Seven Sister Falls. Ankita squealed as she called us to see the rainbow over the gushing waters of the falls.

The mist was slowly coming in and we decided to get to the Elephant Falls as soon as we could. I went there as a kid. The cascade of waters was simply breath-taking. Even better were some young brave-hearts; girls who walked bare-feet across the slippery stones of the falls. Kyan was dumb-struck and Rishi’s jaw fell open!

We all sang “Hotel California” while we sped up the gently undulating road towards the Laitkor Peak. Shillong looked romantic from where we stood at the railing with the fog just setting the mood for a picture perfect scene.

This time I was at the wheels. Ankit was half asleep. Okay! It’s now a race between me and the boys. And I sped off to the tune of Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car”.