Snapshots in sepia: Parts VI and VII

VI

Along, our next stop, greeted us with the familiar bustle of a busy town; and after the wilderness and desolation of Tuting, seemed like a much-needed relief. Our intial plan was to take the next available transport out of Along and head to another jaw-dropping destination --- Mehchuka. However, by then the election campaign was gearing up with full gusto, so much so that the hotel where we had checked into in Along was full beyond its gills, block-booked by election camapaigneers for the next month or so. With a possibility of being stranded in a remote place looming large, we dropped the idea of going to Mehchuka and decided to move towards Guwahati from where we were to take the flight back to Kolkata.

Being the district headquarters of the West Siang district, Along witnesses a lot of activity throughout the day, mostly centred around the town square, which is where all the government offices are located. A quick walk led us to an enclosed space, where people were celebrating Durga puja. As a banner revealed, the puja was started way back in 1953 by Bengalis who mostly had come here as government officials. Over the years, this has become an occasion for all the people of the neighbourhood to assemble and make merry, brushing aside feelings of animosity or grudge that otherwise cloud the relationship between the tribals and the settlers. Interestingly, here in Arunachal, the idol has slight Mongoloid features and resembles the famed beauties of Upper Assam.

VII

The broad sweep of the mighty Brahmaputra valley came into view and, immediately after, came the checkpost. This was the last time we had to

get our ILPs stamped, that would proclaim our departure from Arunachal. From here we were to cross over to Silapathar, the border town in Assam and take the night bus to Guwahati. As the mid-afternoon heat licked the jeep's windows, I realised with a sudden bout of longing that the trip had come to an end. Sure, it had its share of uncertainties, the trials and tribualtions. But long after the grudges go to rest and quotidian concerns colour life, memory will occasionally fiddle with the snapshots in sepia, evoking the awe-inspiring beauty of a land filled with mist and mystery and a diminishing tribe of ever-warm and hospitable people.

Give me another trip to Arunachal any day!

Fact of the matter

The itinerary

Kolkata (by flight) ----> Dibrugarh (by boat across the Brahmaputra and then a 3-hr bus ride) -----> Pasighat (shared Sumo) ----> Yinkiong (shared Sumo) -----> Tuting (shared Sumo) ----> Yinkiong (shared Sumo) ----> Along (shared Sumo) --------> Silapathar (night bus of Green Valley bus service, fabulous) ------> Guwahati (flight) ----> Kolkata

Accomodation (all mid-range, 2010 rates)

Dibrugarh --- Hotel Devika (Rs 850)

Pasighat ----- Hotel Aane (Rs 900)

Yinkiong ---- Hotel Libang (the only-available decent accommodation, Rs 350)

Tuting ---- Inspection Bungalow PWD

Along --- Hotel Aagam (Rs 400)

Snapshots in sepia: Parts III and IV

III

Pasighat is Arunachal's oldest town, established by the British in 1911, and is the headquarter of the East Siang district. It serves as a gateway to the rest of the state and it is from here that we were to board the shared jeep that would take us to our next destination -- Yinkiong, a town some 200 km from Pasighat.

A local transport strike forced us to stay in Pasighat for an extra day that I duly spent hiking through lush hill tracts and watching women in their colourful wraparounds and parasols go about their day's business.

On a day washed out by spells of moderate-to-heavy rains and made inactive by the bandh, these minor distractions provided the much-needed relief.

IV

My jaw dropped when I saw the driver of our jeep, a boy barely out of his teens. From my erstwhile trips to northern Himalayas, I was used to seeing hatta katta Punjabis/Jats behind the wheel, negotiating hairpin bends on difficult mountain terrains, and, hence was least expecting an adolescent to drive the jeep. Very soon, however, as we set out on our journey, all my doubts were put to rest; I realised we were in safe hands.

We were a motley bunch travelling to Yinkiong, all eight others in the group of ten were either officers in some government department or traders travelling on work. We, the only two "outsiders", were hence of immense interest to them. They just couldn't believe that anyone could come to Yinkyong just for a pleasure trip. All kinds of tales were traded as our co-passengers wished us luck and safety for our trip that, as we eventually came to know, happened to coincide with the election season in Arunachal.

By then my morale had touched rock bottom. The driving force that kept me going was the spectacular landscape and also the thought that we were now at the point of no return, and the only wise act would be to just move forward and cross bridges as they came. And bridges we surely did cross!

The monsoon season is not a good time to visit this part of the country, even if you love the rains.

There are chances of being held up due to mudslides or the hanging bridges being washed away by the rains. Sometimes it might be too risky just to travel in such weather. The brighter side is that you get to see the mighty Siang, that skirts the Pasighat-Yinkiong road, in all its elements and are able to freeze plenty of Kodak moments. "Beautiful" would be an understatement while describing this route, "mesmerising" would near-about qualify it.

Power supply in Arunachal is sporadic at best and non-existent at worst, which is an irony since Arunachal has the potential of being one of the largest hydel-power-producing states in India. Most places, if they are not too remote like Tuting, receive power for only a few hours in the evening. When we reached Yinkiong, the sleepy hill town was settling down to another evening of darkness and rain. Desolation was creeping in and for a moment I found myself asking, "What am I doing here?" Just then, the bright blue signboard of SBI Yinkyong came into view. Somehow in the remoteness of the situation that ubiquitous sign seem strangely re-assuring, making me feel that I was in "known territory".

Snapshots in sepia: Part II

There are a couple of entry points to the state. We chose the one through Dibrugarh in Assam that would entail a 2hr boatride through the mighty Brahmaputra and take us to Pasighat in Arunachal. Negotiating a treacherous mud bank to reach the boat prepared me for a trip that would see many such challenges and me doing the constant balancing act. As bouts of rain lashed the steel grey landscape and a sea-like river rocked our deceptively simple motor boat, I sent a silent prayer to that invisible hand, who creates and nurtures such formidable beauty.

Travel, at times, instils a sense of deja vu. Two completely disparate places, far removed from each other, can seem so eerily familiar that you are left wondering whether you've got your geographical coordinates right. We had landed on the other shore quite unharmed but uncomfortably drenched, and here we were on a bus speeding towards Pasighat along NH-37, the highway that crisscrosses emerald green ricefields, rises above swollen rivers and provides some of the most spectacular views that closely resemble the lush landsacpes of South Goa. Hence the deja vu act!

However, the semblance ended there. I was soon brought back to circa 2010 by a gaggle of voices -- two women animatedly discussing a family wedding in Assamese, a little girl talking to her mother in a sing-song dialect and the bus conductor going around asking for tickets in Hindi. The bus soon came to a halt and a man clad in khaki got on to check our ILPs. We had entered the East Siang district in Arunachal Pradesh and the red-and-green ramparts of the border checkpost was proudly proclaiming the same.