"It is a sight for a lifetime. Blissful. Tranquil.
The Master Creator must be close by..."
... an interlude in Sikkim
Thelma Taylor
 Honk! Honk
I was startled! The blissful morning was rudely disturbed
by a strange sound. It sounded like the call of a gigantic duck.
What on earth was it?
I heard the big honk again. Yes! It was
coming from that hill nearby. I went further down the garden and
now I could clearly see a group of maroon clad figures amongst
the tall green trees.
Suddenly, there began a series of sharper
sounds. It sounded as if it was being emitted from a large clarinet with faulty reeds. Soon there
was a third honk and silence followed. I was bewildered. But
the wild crocuses nodded their heads in approval!
That was Sikkim's Mystery Number One. The mysteries and wonders of Sikkim were countless and they
revealed themselves in short one act scenes as if the display
of such marvel all at one time might carry the beholder away
from his or her realm of senses.
 We later found out that on the nearby hill nests the Institute of Tibetology,
where ancient scrolls and manuscripts on Tibet and Buddhism are
preserved. It is home for a large number of Tibetan lamas. The
lamas had been testing their traditional musical instruments that
day for an approaching festival. The wind instruments are long
and heavy. The one with the loud blare (!) is almost 15 to 20
feet long and requires super-strong lungs! It is called a radung.
The gyaling is smaller and can be lifted off the ground and is
easier to blow. During ritual processions they are accompanied
by equally quaint drums cymbals and chants.
Libing
My stay in Sikkim lasted for two enchanting years. We lived
in a cute little stone cottage with wooden floorings. It was just
below the large tarmac helipad, a couple of kilometres away from
the capital, Gangtok. The area was called Libing.
 It used to be
the favourite hunting ground of the earlier Chogyal of Sikkim.
His large princely villa atop the highest hill was surrounded
by twenty such cottages where his friends and guests used to be
accommodated during the hunting season.
Of course, there was no
shikar now and a major portion of Libing was occupied
by the army. But the positioning of the army base at Libing had not made it look any less like hunting country. The fields around were still populated with the most beautiful
coloured birds and butterflies and wild exotic flowers orchids,
lilies, gladioli, crocuses and much more.
Arrival in Gangtok
The road from the plains of Siliguri up to Gangtok is about
a hundred kilometres long. Wild, angry, meek or silent -- the
Teesta river meanders alongside the road and displays her changing moods
all through the journey. The lush green mountainside acts as
a constant companion, compelling the river to keep herself in
control. But the mountains don't always remain in control. And you sit up with a loud gasp when you spot a big signboard
warning you to beware of falling boulders.
With crossed fingers
and thumping hearts you wait for the vehicle to cross the dangerous
stretch as carefully but as quickly as possible! I can never forget
the rainy day when our bus was actually hit three times by rocks
as big as footballs (!!) and we narrowly escaped a huge boulder
which came crashing down to block the entire road! Very soon,
the flora and fauna reappeared to calm our racing pulses!
Enter main Gangtok and you think you are in another country.
At the main MG Road crossing, you are shocked to see a petite
young policewoman managing the traffic! She wears a blue uniform
with black cap and belt. She controls the traffic with deft arms
and smartly stamps her black boots when an army officer passes
in his staff car. We gape in awe!
The town is full of youngsters
in denim jeans, leather jeans, colourful jackets and bright coloured
boots, trendy scarves and earrings, luxuriant black hair and cheerful
faces, wandering about with a 'nary a care in the world' attitude.
No one stares. No ogling. Or eve-teasing here.
The people of Sikkim
prefer to mind their own business. They live and let live. They
dress smartly and enjoy life. Cars roll by. A car stops. And as the menfolk
chat about their game of mahjong, out steps a group of gorgeous
women attired in the traditional bakkus and loose-sleeved blouses.
They look like exquisite dolls made of delicate china.
Main Chowk, Gangtok
The marketplace is not very large, but the dimensions of
the shops are so tiny, that the number of shops are plentiful.
They sell artefacts and curios. And dragons of all sizes and materials.
The main market has smart restaurants which cater to the tourists.
But the more adventurous should try the by-lanes for more authentic food. A plate
of steaming hot noodles soup with vegetables or thukpa or piping
hot momos with chutney are available in tiny cafés.
Every fifth shop is a liquor shop. The Sikkimese are a spiritual
lot (!). Mind you, they were one of the first to discover the
intoxicating qualities of the now banned Phensedyl cough syrup!
Besides the commercial brands, one can also order a bamboo pipe
full of tumbah -- the hard hitting local brew!
Squeezed in between shops owned by Lepchas,
Bhutias, Nepali or Marwaris, selling multiple wares, one encounters numerous video-shacks,
with typical movie sounds emitting from behind a narrow curtain.
Fifteen to twenty movie fans of all ages, are packed together
to watch either an action packed thriller or a sleazy 'titillator'!
Inside a gompa
 The silence and serenity inside a Buddhist gompa is certain
to bring peace to many a troubled heart. Rotating prayer-wheels
tempt visitors to have a 'try'. And the fluttering prayer-flags
may give cause to many an atheist to wonder about his own philosophy!
A visit to the famous
Rumtek monastery left me almost in a trance! The entire atmosphere
in and around Rumtek was fascinating. I could have sat and watched
the child lamas for hours. Maroon robes, yellow blouses, shaven
heads, running noses they laughed and played around their dormitories
just like any group of school boys... But one sound of a gong
and within minutes they were sitting cross-legged in the courtyard
in neat rows -- chanting mysterious words in perfect unison. Mystical
rhythm and harmony.
Holy Sunday
 Sunday service at the Gangtok Protestant Church was a happy
hour of fellowship and togetherness. The congregation clapped
hands and sang popular hymns and choruses in Nepali or Lepcha.
The worship services was homely and cheerful.
No ritual. No false
pretences. No hypocritical sermons. The elders were given the
best seats and true respect. The toddlers were free to do as
they wished. Since they were not forced to behave like adults
they never crossed any limits. After service, the church lawn
would become a park, full of cheerful and chatty families, sharing
their joys and sorrows over some hot tea and cold pakoras.
Glimpses of China
Driving up to the higher mountain ranges, to take a peep into Chinese territory at Nathu La --
a restricted area --
one encounters another set of 'breath-takers'. Gorgeous waterfalls.
Serene blue lakes, cupped in between rugged mountains. The water
so transparent, you can almost see the silver trout swimming in it.
|
