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Sanjay Singh Badnor

I could see the twinkling lights of the city as the plane started its descent and prepared to land at Borjhar airport. Looming large, like a huge snake, out of the darkness, was the mighty Brahmaputra river. It mysteriously and darkly weaved its way in and out of the city lights. Guwahati had arrived.

The capital of the state of Assam, Guwahati is the gateway to the entire Northeastern region of India. Assam's importance to this region is often not remembered. The second largest, but the most densely populated province of the Northeast, this picturesque place produces much of India's oil and tea.

But I was here to check out the state's two prime attractions -- the sprawling tea estates and the wildlife sanctuaries of Kaziranga and Manas. These sanctuaries are the home to the endangered one-horned Indian rhinoceros. And Assam's tea estates, apart from accounting for 60% of India's tea, are also the birthplace of some of the finest teas in the world.

But first I wanted to explore the multifaceted city of Guwahati. I checked into a government guest house for the night, leaving strict instructions to be awakened at the crack of dawn. Guwahati derives its name from two words. Guwa means betel nut. While hati translates to 'little market'. Today the city has expanded far beyond the boundaries of the market. However it still remains very accessible and can easily be explored by the discerning traveller.

Rising with the sun the next morning, I stepped out on the empty streets hoping to find some means of transport which would take me to the banks of the impressive Brahmaputra river. Fortunately, a city bus comes rattling along within a few minutes and dropped me off at the General Post Office from where the river is a mere five minute walk.

The sky was heavily overcast. And the day was miserably cold and dull. This did not seem to dampen the spirits of the locals, who despite the foul weather, were cheerily going about their morning chores. Children were at play. Ferrymen were preparing for the first ride of the day. And an odd worshipper, here and there, was performing a puja at the river. It was business as usual at the south bank.

A slight drizzle began as I decided to take a ferry across to the Peacock Island in the middle of the river. On this pretty island stands the old Umanand temple dedicated to Lord Shiva. Peacock Island also happens to be the site of the annual Shivratri mela.

I took another ferry across to the north bank. In spite of the drizzle, which was becoming steadier by the minute, I enjoyed the ride over the misty river, which seemed to grow broader and broader as we drifted upstream.

The Brahmaputra river -- its name translates to: son of the creator -- actually originates at Lake Mansarovar near Mount Kailash in the Tibetan Himalayas. And the Brahmaputra is said to be the only male river of India. It is deemed so because of its 'strength', gained from having a very healthy length and breadth. The river flows for 2, 880 kilometres along India's northeastern border and encompasses a basin of around 924, 670 square kilometres.

Known by numerous local names -- Lohit, Dihaang Di and Budalohit -- the Brahmaputra is steeped in legend and myth. And the river is considered to be a symbol of synthesis of people of all religions, castes and creeds. One of the popular beliefs is that annually, on the auspicious occasion of Ashok Asthami, the waters from all pilgrim centres of India somehow mingle with the waters of this great river and overnight its waters become holy. And the river attracts huge crowds who congregate to take a dip in its magical waters.

It was 9 am. Yet hope of either the mist lifting or the sun making an appearance seemed remote. I did my standard whistlestop tour of the main attractions of the city. A peep in at the Navgraha temple, the temple of the nine planets on Chitrachal hill. And then I hopped over to the Budhha temple, the Dol Govinda temple situated near the Guwahati refinery and the well known Kamakhya Devi temple. The Kamakhya Devi temple, believed to be once the sacrificial site of Khasi people, was fascinating and a not-to-be-missed tourist site. Perched atop the Nillanchal hill, with a bird's eye view of Guwahati and the Brahmaputra, the temple is reckoned to be the most significant pilgrimage spot of the Northeast and is considered to be the center of tantric worship and Shakti puja.

In hardly half a day or more I managed to cover the routine sightseeing spots. Two things remained on my agenda. Firstly I headed out to the central bazaars to procure some genuine Sualkuchi silk mekhla chaadars, which I had to take back for friends in Delhi. Mekhla chaadars is the traditional dress worn by the Assamese woman and Sualkuchi handloom silk, which comes from the nearby village of Sualkuchi, is famous for its superior quality. I managed to hunt down the outfits in the shops around Paltan and Pan bazaars.

Next stop: the travel agency to book a seat on a bus bound for Jorhat. Getting to Jorhat I discovered would not be a problem. Most buses exiting from Guwahati travel to the interiors of Assam via Jorhat, an important tea growing centre. And when I arrived at the departure point later in the evening I was astonished to discover over 50 private deluxe coaches waiting to depart for various destinations in Assam.

Do the residents of Assam prefer to travel by night, I wondered? Despite the fact that the state is supposedly populated with active militant organisations such as the Bodos, Ulfas and others?

My bus was rumbling its motor in anticipation of departure. But there were a few minutes spare for a quick, hot cup of chai. And what better place to have a 'cuppa that cheers' than is Assam, the land of tea gardens. And it couldn't have been better timing too! I was about to depart for Bokaghat, to see a tea estate in the heart of the state.

Yes, by a stroke of luck I had got this incredible opportunity, courtesy an acquaintance, to visit a tea garden. He was scheduled to pick me later in the night.

At the unearthly hour of 2 am the bus dropped me off at Bokaghat, a small tea garden town and a favoured tea stop for drowsy bus drivers operating the lonely roads of Assam at night. My young host, Dushyant Singh, an assistant manager at a Bokaghat tea garden was patiently waiting for me in his olive green, convertible jeep.

Photographs by Sanjay Singh Badnor

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