On The Lap Of The Silky Way, Part - 2

On The Lap Of The Silky Way, Part - 2 

The total distance from New Jalpaiguri to Silarigaon is only 95 km, but it takes about three and a half hours to cross this route. The car was moving little bit slow keeping us accustomed with the ups and downs of the hilly roads but getting engrossed with the beauty of the busy mountain road when suddenly the road comes to an end that we were not able to understand at all. WhenThe midday sun was shining in the middle of nature at that time suddenly our  car came to a halt in a small town in the middle of a mountain range. It is a neatly hilly village with beautifully arranged houses. The residents of the houses has done coloured drawing in the yards of their houses. In a moment my  mind became joyful. As soon as I got out of the car, a gust of cold wind blew and signaled me that I had come quite high and just now I should wear a warm cloth. And just at that moment, the sight I have seen with gaps in the vegetation of the front land, I have no word to describe the silent indescribable holiness. In the embrace of the glowing blood ring like sun of the mid afternoon , the burning Kanchenjunga is manifested with absolute joy. The rest of the team is almost silent. I ran with the camera to capture this wonderful moment.

Silarigaon is now a very popular name in the dictionary of travel thirsty people. It is a small hilly village on the border of West Bengal and Sikkim .The people in this village are very good. Very simple and sincere. There are no so-called hotels in almost the entire part of our itinerary. All ‘home stay’. 'Home stay' is another name for staying together in the house of a villager as a guest  instead of hotels. To stay in their neat and clean house and to eat their home made food. The housewife is baking bread while teaching her daughter by lighting the oven in the evening, and she is also laughing and talking with the newly married young bride who has come to stay with them as a guest. The eldest son of the house is taking the girl to school in the morning by getting her ready in school uniform, and on the way  taking the physical well-being and news of the old aunt who is staying a little above. It seems to be a lot of one's own house, one's own neighborhood, one's own country, one's own people. The mind becomes better here. A few more small villages like Silarigaon have similar hospitality. Such as Ichche Gaon, Ramdhura etc. However, the form of Kanchenjunga from Silerigaon is the sweetest.

Just after completing our lunch session with rice, pulses, fry, vegetables, egg broth, and sweet tomato pickles, a foggy, grief stricken afternoon had arrived very rapidly. I saw after coming out of the dining room that an enchanted covers of cloud just on the face of the Kanchenjungha, somewhat visible, mostly inside the dreamy cover. In this enchanting sweet melancholy of the coming evening, I drowned completely and drenched myself. The evening went well with hot snacks and coffee. Pretty cold here. The dinner party ended at about nine o'clock in the night, and I went to sleep in a tidy bed with a hot embrace of the blanket. I don't know when I fell asleep on my own due to today’s hectic road journey. I woke up very early in the morning at the call of my elder brother from next room. Quickly putting the monkey cap on my head I came out wrapped in the bed blanket. Several members of the team then got up already. It's still pitch dark outside. There is not the slightest hint of sun light on the eastern horizon yet. A number of very enthusiastic photo hunters arrived at the front field. What a wonderful soft intoxicating scent of soil soaked in the very icy cold was spreading all around; it was an enchanting fuzzy and sleepy dawn just at the last droplet of the night. Extending both of my hands I filled the scent of that pure air in to my lung again and again and felt that all the dirt, all the troubles seem to be washed away and cleaned inside the heart. Only I am a great idiot, I could not catch his rhythm, could not match my tune even with the melody of that harmonious harp of him.

I returned to my sense at the call of one of my elder brother of our group. Covered from head to toe in a warm dress, with gloves wrapped around his hands, only a mustache and two eyes can be seen from inside the monkey cap. He had already taken a number of shots by his huge camera which was hanging from his neck. Little by little, the western horizon began to appear. Clear sky without clouds. The dew drops of the dew that had accumulated all night long were dripping down the leaves of the dark green dense vegetation, he was appearing by removing the faint covering little by little through its gaps. White crown, rolled down on two sides, his white ornament. He is Kanchenjunga, one of the best children of His Majesty the Himalayas.



Stunned by the fascination and amazement, I began to look at his orderly appearance little by little with two eyes. The soft red colour has already begun to spread on the eastern horizon. Also a little of it is scattered in the clouds, not exactly red, a little like a golden color. At the beginning, may be or like this, everything is awake in the dream of sacrifice and abandonment. As time goes on, he becomes more and more intense, he gets worse and worse. Life's misery burns in the middle of the day and falls in the evening. For now, there is no way not to be fascinated by this innocent simplicity of the morning. This ray of eternal joy is spreading from east to west. This heavenly red light has touched the crown of snow capped Kanchenjunga now. In fascinated amazement a few of us stared blankly.   Frequent camera shutter sounds were just coming to the ears.

To be continued........................................................