10th - Himalayan Heights

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9th..Jog Falls

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The Stream Quartet of Jog Falls

The Jog Falls, located in the Shimoga district of Karnataka, is created by the Sharavathi River falling in a
direct un-cascaded plunge into the depths of a pool far below. One of the highest waterfalls in Asia, this
tourist attraction is an ideal place to visit for a day of adventure and tranquility.
One of the major plus points of the place as a tourist spot is its topography – the way the hill or plateau
with the viewpoint, which is actually spread across a relatively large area and also contains a few
restaurants, guest houses, rest rooms, is exactly opposite to the hill below which the fall plunges. Thus,
for a visitor, there is a hundred and eighty degree viewfinder for the entire panorama of the picturesque
scenery. Almost anywhere one stands on the wide spacious area atop the hill’s breadth, the view is
majestic - four major drops of water (named Raja, Roarer, Rocket and Rani respectively) descending from
a height of approximately two hundred and fifty metres.
One can grasp the height of the falls only after realizing that the tiny drops of colour that can be seen far
below, among the green, blue and brown of nature, are actually people who had climbed down. The best
part of Jog Falls is that unlike other such high descending falls which are in too much of a dangerous
terrain for tourists to casually trek down to its pool, here, the path to the bottom is trek-able. The initial
few meters or so are properly cemented and with railings; however after a while, though the trail is fairly
well-trodden, it is not ‘pakka’, and one has to be careful while treading the sometimes loose stones.
As I climbed down, the perspective of the waterfall(s) changed- its size seemed to amplify, the sounds
becomes louder, and the walk becomes tougher, climbing between boulders and stones, some naturally
arranged in steps, some maneuvered to be so. The trip downwards can usually be covered in about thirty
to forty minutes, with short periods of rest at the many makeshift shops selling lime juice, soft drinks and
chips.
Despite the terrain, it is exciting to descend into the mini valley and the pool, as if descending into
nature’s lap. The feeling on reaching the rocky bottom of the hill, just next to the gigantic drop of the four
vertical rivers, is breathtaking. The sound is overpowering – one can hardly hear each other over the
angry thunders of the cascading waters, and no matter where one is on that uneven mixture of water pool
and rocks, one is sprinkled, sometimes showered by the drops of the water blown away from the
waterfalls by the breezes. All the exhaustion of the downwards climb vanishes in a twinkle. The
indomitable resonance of this beautiful endless white body of water, its sheer supremacy over its
surroundings, tempts one to just sit there forever. Relishing the coolness of the spray of water with the
wind, sitting under the numerous assorted shades beneath huge boulders and soaking ones feet in the
coolness of the water, is so refreshing.
The nearest distance one can go towards the fall bottom depends on the season and the volume of water;
sometimes, warning signs are placed when the volume of the waterfalls is dangerously high and the rocks
slippery and wet.
It is the climb back which is the most challenging task of all; what a climb! The small refreshment stalls
at intermittent heights felt like five star lounges and a real godsend for travelers. The feeling that one gets
after finishing the climb is deep relief mixed with the pure satisfaction of having experiencing this
gorgeous waterfalls and the gorge below, not just by sight, but by touch too.

The 7th & 8th (Jagannath temple and Murudeshwar)

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Jagannath Temple: Until I find the published post:

The Holy Trinity of Puri

The Jagannath Temple in Puri is perhaps one of the holiest places in Eastern India. One of the
dhams of the ‘Chardham’, the shrine of the temple encloses the trio of deities, Balabhadra,
Subhadra and Jagannath. The temple is ancient; legend has it that and at some point in the distant
past, it had been covered by sand, and had fallen into oblivion. After several years, it was re-
discovered, because of the golden ‘Shikhara’ jutting out of the sand. The temple is huge and
beautifully designed. One can imagine the age of the temple by looking at the intricate engraved
figures on all the walls of the main shrine. It is situated central among many other temples, all
within a single perimeter.

Due to commercialization of the place, and the immense crowds, to reach the sanctum (where the
original idols are placed and worshipped) for darshan, one has to hire a local pundit, ‘Panda’.
They start approaching you the moment you set foot in Puri, starting from the railway station, all
the way to the hotel. Even if you don’t hire one and arrive at the temple yourself without a
Panda, you will eventually find yourself obliged to hire one, just so that you can be guided
through the labyrinths of the temple; spaces halls and corridors, and also through the swarming
crowds. When you finally do reach the holy shrine, you are granted just a moment’s glimpse of
the holy gods, above and past the bowed heads of people already standing there in prayer.

I was fortunate to have entered temple premises when it was somewhat less crowded, perhaps as
it was just nearing the time of closure for the morning. So, the few who were present were able
to pray and worship in peace, without being nudged, shoved or pushed from all directions. Even
the inner sanctum where the deities are enshrined could be beheld in peace – a powerful aura
pervades within this sacred abode. Perhaps it is due to atmosphere around – the slight chanting,
the scent of incense sticks, the idols projected as the centre of spiritual power, the dim light,
people bowing in reverence, people prostrating on the floor, the ancient smoothened rock tiles,
the darkened walls, the coolness of the temple interiors, all come together to bring about a certain
indescribable sense of contentment. I cannot explain that momentary bliss.

The other temples contain the shrines of other divinities, who are equally revered. The entire
temple compound is expansive; the Jagannath temple forming the epicenter of this huge
enclosure of holiness. People sitting in prayer, some in meditation, Pandas guiding their clients
around; religion is a busy activity.

The Jagannath temple is protesting against the years of neglect and use; the walls are crumbling
at some places, while at others, the delicate carvings are getting eroded. The carved walls are
being restored by some masons working at one façade of the temple and an enforcing structure
has been built on another side to support the weakening beams of the aging temple. Outside the
temple, it is a busy marketplace, filled with an assorted variety of shops – small and big, selling
sweets or souvenirs, flowers or clothes.

Weaving through the intricate streets, perhaps in a rickshaw, one can reach back to the sea side
of Puri, where religion merges with the deep blue waters of the Bay of Bengal. And yet, after
visiting the hallowed portals of the Jagannath temple, for quite some time, the spiritual state of
mind lingers, as if the holy trinity had created a lasting impression in one’s soul.

Murudeshwar:
The sheer scene of the place is dramatic.. the massive statue of the benign Shiva towering
over all, the azure blue of the Arabian sea in so many directions around, the pyramidal
rise of the Gopura in front of the temple… one cannot help be mesmerized by the first
glance
This is Murudeshwara, which is itself another name for the Lord Shiva, Home to one of
the oldest Lord Shiva temples in the region… almost 500 years? Old...built on the
coastline of Karnataka; this beach town has been a place of religion and worship for
many years, for the local Kannadiga people. People flock in crowds, daily to give their
offerings to the divine lord.
When approaching this coastal pilgrimage destination, one is greeted by the beach on
both sides – and the silvery statue of Shiva ahead... looming, growing the closer one
gets.
The temple is built on a narrow peninsula type of land, which grows into a slight hill at
the absolute corner nearest to the sea. This hill, called Kanduka Giri, is where the ancient
temple resides, flanked by the tall 243 feet Gopuram in front, and the 123 ft Shiva statue
at the other side, farther way. The Gopuram, with 21 floors inside is equipped with a lift
too, which visitors can use to go to the 21 st floor for a nominal fee. Imagine the view from
the top!
Though the temple itself is old, the entire campus, with the beautifully maintained grassy
slopes, the tall beautifully engraved Gopura façade, and the Shiva structure has been
donated and maintained by a philanthropist Mr. R N Shetty. The temple’s inner sanctum
is still preserved however in its true form – the old stones, the dark interiors and the holy
God.
The left boundary of the Gopuram grounds has a railing to fence the area from the
sloping ground further, which finally meets the sea waters. Not too far away, on the left,
one can see the sandy beach, with a few fishermen’s boas here and there – the green
coconut trees and palms providing a green lush background to this panorama…. At the
backside of the Gopuram, some steps to the left at a higher level is the actual temple,
which too overlooks the sea. The golden façade of the temple is beautifully carved
figures and characters from Hindu mythology. Entering the cool interiors of the temple,
one cannot help but feel at peace.
The central piece of attraction however is the Shiva statue – slated to be one of the tallest
in the world, it is spectacular – the entire figure of the Lord Shiva in meditation is of a
silver texture, with the exception of the golden snake entwined on his neck. Which is of a
golden colour. Climbing 2 flights of steps, between lush green slopes, a gigantic Nandi
Bull and more statues, one feels like a midget in front of the statue; there is a cavern at
the bottom, where statues depicting the story of Murudeshwara, have been placed. The
best part of the statue for me was the semicircular balcony sort of structure which was
build around the statue, for the sides facing the sea. The view from these areas is
magnificent –, pink flowers on some bushes in the immediate vicinity, followed by the
green of the slopes immediately below, which had the entire backdrop of the sandy

beach, the clear blue sky and, the shiny glimmer from the sea waves. The sea breeze was
even stronger at that height…
This place is doubly popular because of its beautiful beaches too = on both sides of the
temple grounds, the Arabian Sea is at its best, flowing gently into the land, which is soon
covered by the green carpet of coastal vegetation – far away, another hill can be seen on
the background. The beach to the left is more popular, crowded with people, some boats,
and a few restaurants overlooking the sea on a mini 4 storied lighthouse shaped structure.
A little further down the road in the same direction one enters, are a couple of hotels,
which cater to people who come here for religious or holiday purposes. Medium
budgeted, this is the ideal destination for a complete family, where the elders can enjoy
the company of God, while the youngsters can enjoy playing in the sea, while everyone
else can enjoy the complete picture of the blue Arabian Sea, the green palms, the clear
skies the sea breeze, and of course the divine presence.

The 5th & 6th - same day, different publications..(Tryst with a Devta & Advanced Studies)

1.http://epaper.hindustantimes.c​om/PUBLICATIONS/HT/HC/2011/07/​31/ArticleHtmls/TRYST-WITH-A-D​EVTA-31072011584001.shtml?Mode​=1

The ‘Jattar’ is a sacred religious Hindu tradition in Himachal Pradesh, during which a deity, locally
called ‘devta’, travels on a journey from his abode to a devotee’s house, where he has been invited and
blesses his devotees. This tradition goes back hundreds of years – it is believed that the Gods promised
their followers their protection, and through the Jattar they fortify the sense of security. Devotees usually
call for a Jattar as a result of the fulfillment of their ‘mannat’ (vow). However, if there is any birth or
death in the family of the inviting devotee within the last eleven days before the planned Jattar, the devta
declines the invitation. There is a lot of mystique around this revered ritual, as it involves the
manifestation of the god in one of his worshippers.
I had been in one of the devotees’ house during the Jattar of the Dev Badeogi (Dronacharya) devta in the
village Panetu near Tattapani for which the afore-mentioned God is the ‘Sthan/Gram devta’. The Dev
Badeogi devta’s Jattar occurs twice in a year, the first, called ‘Laual’, occurs during early summer when
the devta graces the people of the area near Tattapani and Shaaog and the second, called ‘Pratha’, in
September when he travels to Thali near Sunni.
On the appointed day, the devta and his ‘kaardhaar’ (devotees who take care of the various rituals of the
Jattar) arrived at the house in the evening, with the approaching dusk. As the procession approached the
house, all the villagers, with their heads covered by 'dupattas', caps or handkerchiefs, assembled to see
their holy god and offer their prayers. For the people of Himachal, it is imperative to have their heads
covered in the presence of Gods. There was an air of anticipation in the air, which increased with the loud
and rhythmic beats of the ‘dhol’ and ‘nagada’ (local percussion instruments), and the thickening air due
to the smoke and aroma of the burning incense, all of which accompanied the devta’s convoy.
The devta is accompanied by a group of about ‘kardhaar’ as he passes through the various houses and
areas. A few of these people are priests who dedicate their entire life to serving the deity; others renounce
their domestic lives temporarily for these thirty days when the devta is out of his abode, his shrine. Some
of these people are young men, who play the musical instruments while some are responsible for the
‘vahan’ (the vehicle of the God). This is in the form of a Palanquin or ‘palki’, which houses the actual
shrine of the Dev Badeogi.

The shrine is made of ‘Ashthadhaatu’ (an alloy of eight metals) with the benign face of the multiple-
garlanded deity on the different phases of the shrine. Shielding the face of the devta is a miniature

umbrella made of gold. Four smaller golden umbrellas are placed a little lower to protect the many faces
of the devta. At the bottom of the palki, several coloured cloths are tied with their loose ends flowing
below, lending a very vivid look. Accompanying this ensemble is a large umbrella, called the ‘Chhattar’
which is made of a rough textured cloth and supported by dull yellowish metallic thick strings and a
pointed cone at a top, which are actually made of gold. The Chhattar, is the shield against evil, and during
all ceremonies, it is rotated continuously to fend off any evil energy that may be present. The young
members are responsible for this unceasing circular motion, and usually replace each other after long
periods of constant rotation. A couple of other people carry an earthen pot inside which incense is kept
burning during all times of the Jattar.
When the devta’s troupe reached the threshold of the premises, the beats rose to a crescendo, the
‘Chhattar’ was rotated even faster. A priest, clad in white dhoti and kurta, a “tika” (vertical mark) of
vermillion on his forehead, who had been calm till the previous moment, started to shake, his whole body
in a frenzy. His hands flailed of their own accord, his eyes rolled in all directions without control and due
to his seemingly uncontrollable movements, his cap fell and his long oiled tresses curls swung in
abandon. It is believed that the moment the priest’s head becomes bare; the devta enters the priest’s
bodily form. This is the ‘Khel’, when the devta addresses his followers in tangible appearance.

A plate with rice grains, corn and incense was placed before the priest; his hands moved and picked some
rice grains and scattered them in all directions. He spoke to the head of the inviting family, in the local old
‘Pahari Hindi’ dialect, regarding the origin of life, gods, death, strength, and about protection of his
followers from evil. As the family members bowed their heads in reverence, suddenly, the shaking ceased
abruptly, the deafening beats lowered in intensity and the priest came out of the trance, completely
normal. Though somewhat skeptical of the authenticity of this entire scene, I found difficult to envisage
the motivation behind this act, if it was an act, given the complete faith that seemed to pervade all the
involved people.
Before the devta can be seated, another ritual had to be completed – that of the sacrifice of a goat. This act
works like a final acceptance of the invitation. So, in the midst of the unceasing thumps on the drums, the
goat, which had been fed generously for the last couple of days, was beheaded with a single swift motion
of a knife by one of the kardhaar.
With the exception of the head which now belonged to the priest, the remnants of the goat were cooked in
a separate fire outside, eaten by some of the kardhaar. The family head then led the devta and his priests
towards the temporary ‘pandal’ constructed for the devta. Since the God does not enter the house, neither
will he be seated on the ground, an elevated platform was created with wooden planks placed on bricks,
and covered by mats. The head of the sacrificed goat is kept below the platform, next to the earthen vessel
with the burning incense, creating an aura of indescribable power which seemed to awe all present.
After some time, when every arrangement had been settled, the priests performed the evening Aarti – the
ceremony where the devta was greeted with the purifying flames of the ‘diya’ (earthen oil lamp) and the
intoxicating fumes of incense. At the same time, a small brass bell was also rung continuously, while all
assembled sang the bhajan ‘Om Jai Jagdish hare’. After the subsequent puja, ‘Dhaam’ (food cooked in
huge quantities and served to guests for an occasion) was served to all the villagers and invited guests.
The cooking arrangements had been made on a slope outside, where, beneath the shelter of a tarpaulin
sheet, traditional Pahari dishes were being cooked in big brass vessels kept on wooden fires. The
adjoining plain area of the slope was also covered from the top and three sides, with the ground carpeted
with jute mats. People sat along in rows, while hot food was brought in fresh from the makeshift kitchen
and served in paper plates on the ground in front of them. After all the guests and family had completed
their meal, the hosts organized the sleeping arrangements for the kardhaar. The priests always slept at the
side of the devta, whereas others were scattered between the house and the ‘pandal’.
The final ritual of the evening is the ‘Bhel’; this is tantamount to the lullabies sung before sleep. After
calm had settled in the night, the musicians started playing a specific rhythm and melody, different from
the evening. The major part of the music was played by the nagada, (local elongated version of the
trumpet) which added a unique quality to the loud chorus of the drumbeats, finally reaching a climax after
half an hour or so. It was surreal – the small gathering amongst the mountains, the crickets giving the
background score, the hypnotizing sounds of the instruments; thus ended the evening.
The morning rituals consisted of ‘Snan’ (bathing ceremonies) which were the exclusive rights of the
priests only, where the devta and the complete palanquin bathed figuratively, actually dabbed with a wet
cloth, and then the garlands and the colorful cloths are arranged. It is only after this ceremony that the
priests had breakfast, a significant part of which, the hundred odd ‘bhaturu’ (local version of bread), was
prepared by the ladies (of the house and neighbours) in the interior kitchen. The rest of the meal,
consisting of potato curry and “suji ka halwa” (semolina cooked with ghee, sugar and dry fruits) was
prepared in the temporary external kitchen outside.
The next tradition of the Jattar was the ‘Naachna’ or the dance, where the devta is said to dance in joy
and celebration. It started with the gradual playing of the percussions in a slow tempo. Four of the
kardhaar gently lifted the palanquin, all in unison, and started moving in simple coordinated steps – a
couple of steps forward, a couple backward. Despite the weight on their shoulders they moved in perfect
harmony and even switched places with others without breaking the pace. The untiring steps, along with
the beats, soon took on the quality of a trance as it continued on and on for about thirty minutes. It is
believed that this particular ritual happens only if the devta wishes it; otherwise it may so happen that the
palanquin becomes inexplicably heavy that it cannot be lifted at all, let alone moved with.

The main event of the Jattar is considered to be the ‘Jhaada’ which occurred after the dance. When the
priests and the devta were reseated at the platform, again, with the background music of the percussions
and the fumes of the incense, one of the priests fell into the possessed-like spell as the devta seemed to
occupy his physical body. The music stopped as soon as he started chanting some phrases and scattered
rice grains in all directions. At this time, the family members sat in front of the raised pedestal, and one
by one, each person moved to face the devta, gave him ‘dakshina’ (offerings given to one venerated), as
he uttered some words about their protection and security, blessed them and gave some grains as Prasad.
A few members even asked specific questions regarding the family future, to which he gave some
responses which may or may not have optimistic
Sometime after all the people had finished asking their questions, the priest’s frenzy gradually ebbed; he
became completely normal the moment one of the other priests placed his fallen cap back on his head.
After some time, it was time for yet another rite; the ‘Pooda’, which is done for agricultural well being of
the family. For this, two priests, along with the family and onlookers, walked to the fields (which were
divested of any crops at that time) with the ubiquitous beats of the drums. One of the priests wore a white
dhoti below a bare chest, looking formidable, not because of his built but due to a miniature axe hanging
from a belt on his waist. That axe is the ‘Raksha Kavach’ of the devta, or the shield for protection. As
everyone sat down on the uneven ground, both the priests went into the now-familiar trance, their eyes
piercing into the onlookers, but not really seeing them. The actions of both were uncannily similar.
Standing, they started chanting, to call the spirit of the devta to their physical bodies. As the spirit of the
devta manifested, they seemed to gain more strength and their movements became even more random.
This time, there was a certain sense of anger in the behavior of the two possessed priests. Their hands
found a plate which contained grains, roti, and halwa and scattered all there was into the parched earth.
They uttered some indecipherable chants, in loud thunderous voices. Through these actions, the devta is
believed to bless the earth to turn in fertile. With the receding of the percussion’s volume and tempo, and
the re-placing of their respective caps, they priests came back from surrealistic state and sat down quietly,
ending this visit from the devta too.
In the course of the afternoon and evening, the devta danced twice more, once before the lunch Dhaam
and finally before leaving. This dance can only be performed an odd number of times, so the family had
decided on three. With the approach of the darkening evening, it was time for the devta to depart; another
new family to bless and celebrate with. As the final 'naach' occurred, all the four handles were held by the
family members, while the ladies of the house tied small silver chhattars to the handles and also tied more
colourful cloth, called ‘purojini’ to the palanquin. As the Jattar to this family successfully ended,
everyone to their ‘Sthan devta’. Before the procession left for another house, one of the priests again
scattered the rice grains offered in a brass plate, as a final blessing to.
The authenticity of this revered ritual of manifestation can always be doubted by cynics. However, when
one remembers that the villagers of these mountains are god-fearing, it is difficult to imagine that the
priests would engineer all the trances for their own gain at the risk of inviting the wrath of the gods. For
the locals, the Jattar transcends the conventional concept of a god and his/her worship, and strengthens
their faith in their devta.

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A Date with the 19th Century

Even the path to the entrance of the Institute of Advanced Studies is beautiful - the curved roads rising in
a gentle slope, with the stone walled boundary on the left and graceful pines on the right hiding the
majestic view of the mountains beyond. My experience of visiting this erstwhile Viceroy's lodge was even
better due to the misty weather and the scattered fog which played around at the whims of the winds.
Originally built as a residence for the viceroy Lord Dufferin (late 1800s), this little piece of history is one
of the lesser known attractions of Shimla. More than a hundred years old, this magnificent structure is
now a place of research and education of subjects like Humanities and Social Sciences. Fortunately, a
small part of it has been kept open to tourists and history lovers so that they can get a whiff, look and feel
of the late nineteenth century.
Entry into these permitted rooms is only in the company of guides who give tours of the interiors at
regular intervals. As I entered the building, I felt like I had been transported into another era; along with
the guide, the beautiful varnished wooden architecture, the heavy curtains, the Victorian style of furniture,
seemed to narrate stories of the past. Despite the length of time that had passed, the interiors are
remarkably well preserved; the polished wooden wall paneling, the meeting rooms (in one of which the
famous Simla Conference of 1945 was held), the paintings, the banister leading to the second floor –
everything seemed to be unchanged with the years. All these silent spectators of history seemed to awe
visitors into hushed whispers, as if not wanting to disturb their dignity and memories.
As the guide walked us through the last hundred or so years of this mansion’s existence, I was charmed
by the black and white photographs of English families; the women decked up in their flowing gowns and
hats, while the men stood tall and proud - remnants of the British rule of India. When the nation was torn
in the throes of the fight for independence, this tranquil place must probably have been a welcome retreat
for the many officers that resided here during those turbulent times. When the tour ended and I walked
out the door, I felt as if I was returning from another world and another time.
The area outside, with its extensive lawns, well maintained gardens built on multiple levels, old fountains
with the typically European structures, gives one the ideal setting to get away from the crowds, and spend
a quiet time in the heart of the beautiful erstwhile summer capital. Benches are scattered across the
grounds; for active visitors, there are a lot of paths through which one can walk across the various levels
of the gardens.
Once called the Viceregal lodge, the mansion was built on one of the high peaks called the Observatory
hill, it provides a splendid view of the Himachal mountains below the western sky. The best time to visit
is evening (as I had unknowingly done) when one can feast one’s eyes on a resplendent sunset amidst the
clouds and faraway hills. As the evening progressed, the clouds floated above the valleys to finally rise to
the sky, while the golden sun descended to the horizon.
The charmingly quiet surroundings, coupled with the lovely weather of Shimla, the slight chill in the air,
the fiery orange sky, made this short trip one of unbridled pleasure, away from the jarring sounds of car
horns, shops and the twenty-first century – a perfect date with history.

The 4th one - this time in a new publication:) - The Daily Post (Cherrapunjee)

http://112.196.11.34/dailypost​/Details.aspx?id=956&boxid=299​34&uid&dat=2011-07-24

A Walk in the Clouds

Cherrapunjee, a small town in the abode of the clouds, Meghalaya, known locally as Sohra, is famous for holding the position for the highest rainfall in the world. Actually, the position toggles between Cherrapunjee and a place in its vicinity, Mausynram. The place is a treasure of natural beauty, ranging from lush waterfalls to picturesque valleys. Contrary to popular perception, it does not rains perennially here and consequently not always wet and damp. It is ironically also known as a Wet Desert, because despite the abundant rain, there is no lush vegetation, mostly due to presence of lime in the soil. One can see hills with no vegetation except a layer of grass and some bushes. And yet, it is a destination that leaves unforgettable impressions in a visitor’s mind.

The best way to travel to Cherrapunjee is via road from the capital Shillong, which is about sixty kilometres away. Before planning such a trip, one should make sure of the weather forecast (at least as much as it is possible), because if it gets rainy/foggy there, one would really miss out on a lot. And, no matter what the forecast says, always remember to carry and umbrella or raincoat, because the weather in these parts is extremely unpredictable. It is not uncommon to have five minutes of overcast sky, ten minutes of hail, and fifteen minutes of heavy showers followed by clear blue sunny skies. 

I was fortunate to travel on a sunny day which remained sunny throughout, almost. The road from Shillong to Cherrapunjee, is, in itself, a treat for the eyes. After crossing the city outskirts, one comes across almost empty countryside with miles and miles of green interspersed with a few houses here and there. And the road is good (most of the time) - a smooth ride. Halfway through, the countryside is replaced by gorges and cliffs - a single road meandering across kilometers and kilometers of immediate nothingness on the left, and a single wall on the right. The view is breathtaking. On the left, just across the deep gorge is another mountain of almost the same height, which has a road which leads to the border town of Dawki. On the right, it’s not a cliff exactly, more like vertical hills with vegetation. A clear blue sky with tiny patches of white promised a great day of sightseeing. 

Ramakrishna Mission:

Our first destination in Cherrapunjee was not, as expected anything natural. It was the Ramakrishna Mission. Established in the earlier part of the century, this institution is a part of much larger organization which has centres all over the country and the world. Apart from the shrine dedicated to Sri Ramakrishna Paramhansa, it has a school complete with boarding facilities, workshops for weaving, and other handicrafts. Built in the background of beautiful untouched mountains, with the nearest city being at least an hour away, the whole atmosphere within the portals of the place is one of discipline and peace. 

Nohkalikai Falls:

The next destination in Sohra was Nohkalikai falls. There’s a rather morbid folk tale associated with this majestic waterfalls – there are several versions actually; here’s one: 

"Once upon a time a widow and her daughter lived in a small hut on the mountain. Then one day, a man came into the life of the widow and she decided to re-marry. As in all such cases, the step-father disliked the daughter intensely and the mother was always worried about the safety of her daughter and so never left her side. One day, due to some urgent reason, the mother had to go to the village nearby. As her husband was not there at home that time, she decided it was safe to leave her daughter there and went away. After some hours, when she came back, she found that her husband had returned and was cooking. He seemed very happy. On looking around, she found her daughter missing and upon enquiring, he told that she had left to roam around in the forest and would return later. Dreading the worst, she decided to go searching for her daughter, when he said that she could search after eating the meal. She reluctantly agreed. He served the meal; rice, meat etc. Here the story gets a little hazy; one version says that the husband, ecstatic in the success of evil maneuver, tells her the truth that he killed the daughter
and had cooked her up and had served her as lunch to the very person who had born her. Another version says that the widow found the fingers and toes of the child in the 'kwai' (local betel leaf) box and deduced the rest. The story goes that the mother was so shattered, she could not want her own life to continue. So, she jumped off the cliff, and the falls formed after in the very place she ended her existence.”

Hence the name of the falls, as ‘Noh’ in Khasi, means dive or jump and ‘Ka Likai’ was the name of the widow, so Nohkalikai means the dive/jump point of Likai. 

Anyway, the Nohkalikai falls emerges from a cliff which is a body of rock connecting two parallel mountains; very much like the road on which we traveled. Here the two mountains are separated by a smaller distance, facing each other. So, one can’t actually go to the place where the waterfalls drops, one can only view it from strategically placed viewpoints much further away. Because of the distance and height, from the viewpoints, the falls looks much smaller than the massive body of water it actually is. However, the intensity of the sound of rushing water, even at such a distance never lets anyone forget the royal splendour of the haunting falls. 

Localites say that the Nohkalikai commands patience from the people who come to see it. The reason being an almost perpetual envelop of fog hovering over the valley where the waterfalls is located. That day too, everything was sunny when we reached Cherrapunjee, however as we neared the viewpoints, by some extraordinary coincidence, the weather partially became foggy. Amazingly, on the road we were on, on one side was bright sunshine, on the other (the side where the waterfalls was), sparse clouds seemed to float around, creating a semi-opaque environment. By the time we reached the viewpoint, the fog had completely enveloped the mountain and the valley below, which meant that all we got to see when we overlooked the viewpoint, was a white screen - sometimes thinning with the wind...sometimes thickening. 

After a patient wait of fifteen-twenty minutes when the clouds played havoc with our eyes, a sudden wind blew in the right direction, and the fog lightened for a few minutes, revealing a little green with even smaller patches of brown, giving some indication of what lay beneath. And then, magically, the fog cleared.

The first thing that strikes you is the colour of the pool where the water flows into; it is a magnificent emerald green. Amidst all that white, to see such a brilliant shade of green in a pool of water is anything but expected. The mountains behind, the valley below, the green carpet of trees – everything seems to be placed by design to protect this precious fluid gem, where the water thunders down and then flows farther and farther away. 

Nohsngithiang Waterfalls, View of Bangladesh Plains

The next place was a viewpoint which is spread over a large area on top of a mountain, where also lie the ruins of a previously built restaurant. From here, one can also see the Nohsngithiang Waterfalls on the left, which are actually a number of falls dropping from the same height and the same plateau. It is actually a set of four five individual falls which emerge at irregular distances, from the almost-vertical slopes of a mountain, across the gorge. At the distance, the falls looks more like white threads of varying width entwined among the greenery around. The volume of water in these falls depends completely on the rainfall that Cherrapunjee gets that season. So, while it is usual to find the slopes gushing with the powerful bodies of water descending to the depths of the gorges, it is not uncommon to find the same almost dry, with a lighter shade of brown indicating where the waterfalls existed. The picture I saw was luckily moderate; none of the falls were dry, neither were they really flowing with high volume. It is a saddening sight, makes one realize that the beauty of Cherrapunjee, as had been in the past, is vanishing. 

From the same area,, the plains of Bangladesh are visible in the horizon. It seems like the range of mountains drastically ends, diminishing into total plains - one can even make out the rivers and flooded fields of the extensive plains. The total effect of the nature’s contrary creations; plains and heights- side by side looks really unreal.

Mawshmai Caves:

Another famous spot is the Mawshmai caves, which lies in the midst of a forest, on the surface of a rocky hill. A portion of this forest has been fenced in, full of old trees and bushes, creating a logical entry point where nominal entry fees are charged. Long flights of steps have to be climbed to reach the actual entrance of the caves. Special due to the natural lime formations of stalagmites and stalactites, the Mawshmai caves have an element of mystery and danger. Inside, though lights are placed at regular intervals to alleviate the overwhelming darkness, one feels eerie, with the knifelike structures trickling with drops of water, creating invisible puddles below and leaving the walls damp and clammy. The local guide takes one through one of the paths in the caves, crawling above and below tiny nooks and crevices, so small that it is almost unbelievable that one can wedge themselves through, to emerge at another end. 

Locals claim that within the labyrinth of these caves, exists a route that actually leads to Bangladesh. Previously used by traffickers to smuggle goods across the border, this secret path is now supposedly blocked. Outside the park, several small restaurants are present, all selling local food of momos, Jadoh, fish as well as simple North Indian fare of daal, sabzi plain rice etc. Unless one has packed food with them, it is best to partake lunch in these places. 

Thankarang Park:

A better and slightly nearer view of the Bangladesh plains can be obtained at the Thangkarang park, which was my last stop. It is designed on the top of yet another mountain. Besides the well maintained gardens, the highlight of the park is its panoramic view of Bangladesh as well as yet another waterfall which falls further down the road we came through -Kynrem Falls. The falls is such that it pours just next to the road (the road leads to Shella - a small town/village situated in the valley among the mountains). Since it’s much farther down the road, people usually don’t go all the way. 

The return journey back to Shillong gave us a live example as to the origin of the name ‘Meghalaya’ for the state. As we and the evening progressed on the road above the gorge, we could see puffs of clouds (not to be mistaken with thick fog) rising up from below, to the surface of the mountain tops, to finally merge into the heavenly skies. The valley or gorges below seemed to actually be their abode; it was an unearthly sight - cottony masses gradually rising as if they belonged there, on the terra firma.

That vision was the curtain for the trip, a fitting closing act for the unforgettable town of waterfalls and mountains, Sohra.

The third! A Simple Life in Panetu

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