Friday 1 February 2013
Thursday 31 January 2013
Bike trip to Cherrapunjee, 31/1/2013
Cherrapunjee, also called Sohra, a town to
the west of this one, is allegedly
the rainiest place on earth. It’s also certainly the wettest desert on earth, a
place where the denuded topsoil retains neither the rain it receives nor lets
much but scrub grass grow. The limestone hills around are riddled with caves
and carved with waterfalls, and my assistant and I took the day off work to go
on a visit. Both of us had been to these places before more than once, but
there’s a fundamentally different experience in going somewhere by motorcycle
than there is by car. A biker will immediately know what I’m talking about. For
others, well, never mind - for today. I’ll educate you some other time on that.
So,
here’s the photo feature of the trip. We’re planning a further and longer trip
in the near future.
The bikes and the riders:
My bike: Royal Enfield Desert Storm |
My assistant (and fellow rider) |
Your travelogue guide and motorcycle gangster-in-chief |
His bike (left and below): Bajaj Avenger |
On the road |
Mawkdok :
A photo feature specially on a trip to Mawkdok is here. Mawkdok happens to be on the way to Cherrapunjee.
Mawkdok Gorge |
We kept running into this particular tourist family in Cherrapunjee too |
Nohkalikai Falls:
This is about five kilometres on the other side of Cherrapunjee. Cherrapunjee itself isn't worth the pixels it's photographed on, so I did not bother.
The dogawful steps down to the viewing point |
And talking of dogs... |
She was extremely friendly. Came and rubbed herself all over me as soon as I dismounted. |
And lest we forget: The cock of the walk |
This is about eleven kilometres from Nohkalikai, six kilometres beyond Cherrapunjee in another direction. Limestone carved in interesting patterns by rainwater. In the rainy season the interior drips.
Entrance |
Not for claustrophobic or fat people |
Note the stalagmites |
A natural chimney near the cave exit |
Above and below: exit |
The way home:
The undulating treeless plateau around Cherrapunjee, where it's always freezing even in bright sunshine |
In the rainy season this, too, is a waterfall. |
- Bill.
Copyright B Purkayastha 2013
Wednesday 30 January 2013
And There Was Silence
They came for me, one night
When the darkness was heavy outside
And I was in my lover’s arms;
They came for me with their guns,
They pulled me out of my lover’s arms.
She screamed, but not very long
And there was silence.
I did not know what they were about
When they dragged me with them
I did not know why
I got no answer to my questions.
Not then, not later.
All I got was abuse,
And there was silence.
But they asked me questions
Who I knew, and why I read
Subversive literature; why I was
An enemy of the nation.
Questions to which I had no answer
Except for silence.
And so they took me out one night
Far into the forest, and they shot me there
By the side of a muddy track
One night, while it was raining.
Just a shot in the night
And there was silence.
And they put a gun in my hand
While I lay on my back
With the rain in my face.
They took photographs, plenty of
photographs
Of me, with a gun in my cold dead hand
And there was silence.
And the media cheered, saying
A terrorist, Maoist, enemy of the state
Had been eliminated. A minister posed for
cameras
With medal for the man who shot me.
Somewhere, my lover wept. Unknown,
forgotten
And there was silence.
Years passed. New terrorists
Were found and killed.
Another day, another night
Just a shot in the night
And lovers crying in the night
And there was silence.
Copyright B Purkayastha 2013
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