Hello there!

I'm finally back with a write-up after so long, but this isn't the usual blog thingie. It's more of a retrospective diary entry of sorts. Of me, by me, and more or less, for me. It's like most of my poems — it's personal. But, at the same time, it's too precious a memory to just be penned down in my journal where no one can read it. I want it to be out there for anyone who's willing to read it. Who's to say, after you're through with it, you might also be inspired to visit the beauty that is Meghalaya?

The whole trip spanned over 9 days (Saturday to the next Sunday). And ergo, this is going to be long. Add to that the unlimited masti we did, it's going to be longer. Consider yourself warned, folks, first and last.

Bhaag lo. Free advice hai. Lena hai to lo, nahi to jaane do. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Without further ado, let the tamasha begin, yoo-hoo!

Jayantee Temple, Nartiang

Those of you reading this, who know my mom, also know that if there’s even the slightest chance that a trip can be set in motion with a temple, she absolutely will. Nothing wrong with that at all — just that she and I don’t see eye to eye on this.

Mythologically, this Jayantee Temple is one of the 51 Shaktipeeths in India. Shaktipeeths are all those places where Sati’s various body parts fell when Lord Vishnu cut her into many pieces to comfort Lord Shiva and reincarnate her. According to what I read, Sati’s left thigh fell here, and hence came into existence the Jayantee Temple. Jayantee is none other than Shakti, and similarly Bhairava, or Shiva, is Kamadishwar. 

Historically speaking, this temple was established by Lakshmi Narayana, the queen of the Jiantia kingdom somewhere in the 16th Century. However, later, as evangelization of Meghalaya began in the 19th Century during the British era, Hinduism shrunk to being a minority religion in Meghalaya.

On a random tangent, because I found it intriguing, I noticed over the span of this trip that the Khasi script (Khasi is the local language) is, somehow, Latin. And it took me by surprise, because most Indian languages have their own script, and don’t rely on Latin at all. Could this, too, be attributed to the Meghayalan evangelization? I find it worth wondering. 

Nartiang Monoliths

Monoliths are literally everywhere in Meghalaya. It’s one of the words I’d use to define the place. They’re huge, erected stones, which can be either ritualistic, or memorial. 

By the looks and placements of them here, all of them seemed memorial monoliths, wherein the standing ones, menhirs (Moo Shynrang) were for the male ancestors, and the horizontal ones, dolmens (Moo Kynthai) were for the females. The positioning is for a reason — the  verticality of males symbolizes their strength and permanence, while horizontality of females represents the nurturing and foundational role of women in society. 

In fact, Meghalaya happens to be a matriarchal society. They place more importance on the roles of women, contrary to the usual patriarchal systems. And that leads me to their ideology which I’m absolutely in love with, that after marriage, the husband moves out and comes to live with the wife, instead of the other way round — because I’m a Papa’s girl and I hate that this zalim duniya expects me to move away if I ever, accidentally, get married, though with how it's all going, the chances seem remote. 

Laitlum Canyon

“It’s a beautiful valley point. Yaha se, you can see everything, the valley, mountains and also clouds, if we’re lucky,” my dad had said. Nada. What did we see? Fog. Only fog. No valley, mountains (other than the one we were on) or clouds in sight. So much fog, that too traveling at such meteoric speed, that within minutes, I had to ask my mom, “ You’re here only, no?”

But, on the bright side, all we could do, and all we did do, was eat. We hogged on food. Started off with a fiery bhutta, and some different, amazing black tea, that had lemon and masala namak (salt with red chili powder, I believe) in it. It was so good! Never had a tea like that. Further add a piping hot Maggi and a delicious, mouth-watering, and surprisingly uncomplicated in its ingredients, plate of chicken momos. Waah, what wonderful food, ahahaha! Wait, there's still more: A bowl of Aloo Muri, and a packet of spiced pineapple slices. And lastly, again, had to go back to the Momo Queen, ’cause what a-ma-zing momos. Unbeatable. 

We decided to call it an early day with another tasty, Bengali meal at Hotel Suruchi in Police Bazaar — a 5-minute walk from where we were staying for the night at the Courtyard Marriott, Shillong property — and the ultimate Motichoor Laddoos from a place called Sonar Cori to top it off. 

That night, I remember being completely wary of what was to come with all the new people joining. But, boy oh boy, was I so, very wrong. And am I so happy that I was, by God. 

Air Force Museum, Upper Shillong

Normally, I get extremely bored in museums, and I was expecting this to be the same. And while I won't give the glorifying review I’d give Don Bosco Museum, I didn’t get bored here. Mostly because of the how well-curated and informative it was. When I say informative, I don’t mean filled with text that requires one to go on reading and reading and reading long explanations and theories. I mean, it was the perfect balance between textual and visual. They had prototypes of the medals,  badges, shoulder boards, the various uniforms for different ranks in different seasons, the aircrafts and so on. And a game! A simulation game, that my dad played and won with 3 stars — I am so proud, it still brings me to tears.

Elephant Falls, Upper Shillong

Elephant falls was mesmerizing. The waterfall cascades down two levels of rocks, so effectively falls thrice. It’s only a few minutes from the Air Force Museum, and a total must visit. It used to be called Three Step Falls before, but during the British era, they renamed it to Elephant Falls because the last bit fell on a rock shaped like an elephant, which got destroyed in an earthquake, unfortunately.

The highlights of this place would actually be the 4 adorable and madly comical ducks we saw here. One, I think, was a wannabe Gigi Hadid with the model poses she was flaunting when people clicked her photos. And another one was obsessed with dunking his head in water, upside-down and swimming like that. It was so hilarious to watch. We also had…well, I have no clue what it’s called, other than the fact that it seems like it should be called Chana Dal Bhel. If you’ve been to Juhu Chowpatty, you probably know what I’m talking about. So, yep, had that, ’cause paani and bhel go along like 🤌🏻.

Don Bosco Center for Indigenous Cultures, Mawlai

This has to be hands down the best museum I’ve ever been to! Nothing like it, seriously. This one covered almost everything one needs to know about North East to begin with — broadly, of course. It gets you intrigued about the 7 sisters, that’s for sure. DBCIC has impressively curated information that spans over 7 floors with about 20 broad categories. 

As someone who’s very interested in mythology, history, and concepts and beliefs of religions and cultures, the Religion and Cultures section had me in a chokehold, despite the pounding headache I had that evening. So well-defined, so well-created, and so easy to grasp. It’s not easy boiling down such massive religious ideologies into simple matter for general public to understand at a glance. It’s incredible. 

What I loved about this museum was that it relied more on visual imagery and representation rather than bouts of text. Retention and understanding of visualizations is much easier, faster, and more effective than textual data. And that’s exactly what happened — I’m unlikely to forget the archetypes they’d kept of the regional and tribal utensils, houses, clothing, weapons, jewelry, etc. The last floor opens up to a wonderful skywalk constructed on the building’s rooftop. It’s quite innovative, actually. 

Again, a must, must, must visit.

If I remember it right — memory may be a little hazy due to the migraine — this was where the 4 of us met Jit Da for the first time. For a little context, Jit Da, aka Bishwajit Bezbaruah (I hope I spelled that right) was our Trip Curator, Adventure CEO and Fun Specialist for the course of this tour — our Sutradhar, as my mom calls him. And only because I clearly remember the look he gave me and my brother the two times we tried to call him Jit Uncle — borderline offended — Jit Da he is, here on out.

Sha Ri Loum, Shillong

Sha Ri Loum was where all of us met for the first time. I remember Baba waking me up saying, “Everyone’s here, come down,” me looking at him groggily, thinking, “Heh?” and then walking down with a strong painkiller in my system, only so I’d be conscious enough to make sense of the proceedings. I’d like to thank my parents from the bottom of my heart for the impeccable migraine genes that they’ve passed on to me — couldn’t have eclipsed the 350-power painkillers without you, thank you!

Well, personally, I hate icebreaker sessions, because they make me awkward, and put me in more spotlight than I know what to do with. Yes, despite being in performing arts, I don’t crave to be in the spotlight — I actually tend to run away from it. Plus, the usual icebreaker games also stultify me quite a lot. This one was different though. Was it even a game? I’m not sure, it can be called that, but whatever it was, was new — a Jit Da original, I suppose. We were asked to describe ourselves with an adjective that we find most suitable for ourselves along with our name, like, Imaginative Riya. Next, was to say out that one thing or experience that we hoped to get from this trip.

This not only got our brain fluids running on the first day itself, but indeed helped to understand each other as a group better. It definitely helped me, in the sense that I like to observe people and know how to approach them before I actually approach them — it gives me a mental footing. 

This was also where I met Chehel for the first time — and at first glance, I was absolutely certain that there was no way she and I would ever get along. Never in a million years.

Arre arre, picture to abhi baaki hai mere dost. 

As an Econ major, I had to put that, I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry. Excuse it, please. 

Mawphlang Sacred Forest

That, finally, brings us to our first group excursion: the Mawphlang Sacred Forest. Technically, this grove spans over three forest covers, one of which is a fern forest — our guide had told us the other two also, but I forgot to note them down. Any tourist who enters, while allowed to understand and enjoy the forest ecosystem, is not allowed to take anything out with them, not even a fallen leaf, which I find is a necessary rule, because as a tourist we do tend to want to take back things as mementos. 

These sacred groves used to be used for worshipping and conducting rituals to appease their deity, the Labasa. Which is why one can see many monoliths erected in the area, most of which are ritual monoliths. It was believed that post the ritual (usually conducted by the King) the forest deity would bestow one of these two signals upon the villagers, signifying his will: If a clouded leopard was spotted, it meant that the deity was happy and that the ritual was successful. However, if snakes were spotted, it was a bad omen, and meant that something was wrong. 

More than anything, though, it was quite interesting to see was how much the locals still respected their traditions and the will of the almighty. Environment conservation comes naturally to them, it’s truly impressive. 

David Scott Trail

The David Scott Trail is a 15 km long trek, from Mawphlang to Cherrapunjee. But, due to the reconstruction of a bridge in between, we were to return from the halfway mark. We were a little sad about not getting to go all the way, at least I was, but that dissipated the moment the trail came into view. David Scott knew what he was doing, naming this trail after himself (that’s a joke guys, I don’t think he did that) — the trail’s that majestic. 

On the way there, I remember asking Chehel, “So you’re doing NEET?” And that’s where it all began, we kicked off and we haven’t stopped. Our parents would argue we’ve only hit the skids ever since, with our penchant for laughing unnecessarily and unceremoniously, talking loudly, making noise and being absolutely ridiculous together. But well, it’s all part and parcel of being a kid. (I’m an adult, I know it, shush.)

Plot twist is, after quite a lot of maska-maar-ing our guide, we did cross that bridge and get to what would’ve been the halfway point for the whole trail. A beautiful, beautiful, beautiful stream that we put our legs in — it’s therapeutic, I tell you. Not just regarding this trek and this stream, but all the treks we did, and all the waters in Meghalaya. They take soothing to a whole new level. The walk back was the same as any uphill walk — strenuous for the legs, and a reality check for the mind. 

Soon enough, a certain someone was finally reunited with her bakris, which is to say we reached the start point. A walk of another kilometer or so led to a sunset point, which, while most of the group decided to sit out, we 5 over-enthu-cutlets decided that we had to see it now that we were there — who knew if we were coming back? All I’m going to say is, worth it. So worth it. A full view of the valley, the lush green cover, a river running through it, accompanied by the enchanting sound of flowing water and nothing else. 

If you ask me to pinpoint the moment where we truly became one group, in my mind, it would be the drive back to Sha Ri Loum. It started with a conversation as mundane as how traumatizing school is, which our dad’s joined with ‘education system ko badalne chala hoon, duniya ko badalne chala hoon’ quips, and Kaka showing us spontaneous glimpses of his mean comic timing. And voila, readers, our chaotic group of 12 welcomes you aboard!

Krang Shuri Water falls, Amralem

Honestly speaking, I didn’t know we were doing this until that morning. And what an unexpected surprise it was. I know how to swim, quite well actually, but what can I say? All I’ve ever done is swim in pools — so new adjectives: Skeptical Riya (and also Jumpy Riya).

The walk to the waterfall was full of anticipation, I couldn’t hold my horses, or my excitement. In all that headiness, I forgot what being careful meant. And as a result, when I hurt my little toe finger as soon as I entered the water, it dawned on me that I’d hit rock bottom. Nowadays, it’s as though I live there.

But it was such a wild experience. I don’t think I’m ever going to forget it. Water here, water there, water water everywhere, oof. Swimming through the waterfall, as it cascaded on my head in full force, being breathless and panting because water was entering my brain through my nose and tickling my brain cells, will certainly be a core memory. 

Side note, the Dal-Rice and Aloo Sabzi we had at a small, dingy place nearby was divine. I don’t know if it was my hunger speaking or my taste buds, but it was. Jokes apart though, they do make their dal a little different, which, if you ask me, shouldn't be missed.

Umngot River, Dawki

Dawki River might just be one of the prettiest boating memories I have. It's totally beyond me how any given part of Meghalaya can be this scenic — but it is. It's stunning.

But, if you ask me, the highlight of this bit wasn’t the river, but the Indo-Bangladesh border that we got to see on our way here — and the best of all? The fact that a part of the border runs through the Umngot river, splitting it into two. But, but, hear me out, what completely had me toppling over was the national border being demarcated by a horizontal line of rocks, meticulously stacked on top of each other so that they rose a little higher than the rest of the rock bed, with a BSF soldier seated at one end of the line. I mean, “Do you see that line of rocks, that’s a little higher than the rest? Yeah, that’s our national border.” What even. 

I can proudly also say that now I know why the Indo-Bangladesh border looked so sinuous on the maps I used in school. I got to see the sinuosities for myself. It helped my inner, stressed 10th grader find peace.

And only because my mom will kill me if I don’t add this bit into the write-up: we stumbled upon a rather ignored but oh-so-magnificent waterfall on our way to the Mawlynnong village. I now know that it’s called the Borhill Waterfall, but believe me, none of the us is ever going to call it that. (We have a different, apt and unique name for it, which shan’t be disclosed, ’cause it’s an inside joke.)

Finally, after trying (in vain) to capture the moon on camera throughout the ride, with Chehel’s marvelous Bollywood playlist playing in the background, we reached the Village. First-off, I got to see fireflies!! But, continuing: the meal that we had that night — wow; so, so, so scrumptious. The thing about their food, based on my limited experience, is that the meal by itself is simple — yummy, but simple — what gives it the kick, is the salsa-like salad that they give on the side which contains these small raw green chilies. And mind you, they are literally the chhota packet bada dhamaka version of chilies. That cute-looking salsa must be handled with care, or you’re in for a treat.  

We had the option to start this day the way we pleased. We could take some much-needed rest, or be early risers and take a stroll around the village and enjoy the townscape. Normally, my lazy ass would’ve told my dad, “I’m sleeping, you can go,” but I don’t know what came over me, I was awake and ready to go at 6.15 AM, waiting for him to wake up. And I’m so glad we went, ’cause it was too pretty a walk to miss. The only drawback had to be the heat and humidity — it felt as if I were shopping in Dadar at 11 o’clock in the morning.

We made a quick work of our breakfast with Jit Da teaching us How to Not Fear a Chhipkali (Lizard) 101: by thinking its eyes were innocent and smile cute. Eek. No. That chhipkali better stay where she was on the wall, and I’ll stay where I was, 2 feet away — no invading each other’s territories — that’s us calling truce.

Living Root Bridge, Riwai

This was my first living root bridge experience. And it’s sorta marvelous to see roots doing something like that. Living root bridges are basically bridges formed by intertwining roots of ficus trees through some human intervention and manipulation, like metal rods for support, and guiding them across the stream, such that, eventually the trees look suspended. It’s such a wonder — more so, because, as we learned later, these roots, and hence trees, form this mycorrizhal network through their micro-roots, which connects these trees and helps transfer nutrients and water. While this neighborly nexus helps a lot when one tree ‘falls sick’ and the other trees ‘send medical help’; tragically though, such strong interconnections also mean if one tree ends up dying, the rest of the trees also eventually die off. The Romeo-Juliet of trees. 

On our way to Cherrapunjee, we finally got to see the Megh in Meghalaya — it rained, thank God. And the cherry on the cake was, about a few minutes into the heavy downpour, we got to eat piping hot bhutta, and of course, chai. Oh, what divine combination, I tell you — chef’s kiss. 

Garden Of Caves, Laitmawsiang

The Garden of Caves is a park spanning over about 2-2.5 hectares, if I remember it right. This place has it all. The caves, the cascades, the waterfalls, the rocks. Everything. And it’s so panoramic. 

I especially remember The King’s Cave, with its bed- and throne-like structures; and the place where the king used to have a bath — screamed ancient royalty.

There was this one place where the natural spring flowed out the rock, and it’s believed to have medicinal properties. Well, medicinal or not, all of us were happiest that it was refreshingly cold. It was such a blessing after the all the tiring traveling we’d done. If I have to word it how my dad would say it: the water was pleasant — not cold, not refreshing — pleasant ✨

Believe it or not, we’ve clicked obscene amount of photos here. This definitely was the most leisurely visits throughout the trip, and quite literally the only chance for all of us to use our phones and cameras, and strike oh-so-many poses, my lord. 

But, but, but. The highlight of the day has to be the ridiculous, nonsensical and loud fun we kids (I know, shush) had after we reached La Kupar Inn. Multiple rounds of Uno, new card games, roaring laughter and creating mad ruckus — and got to eat someone else’s birthday cake, hehe.

We faced intense criticism for the hullabaloo we made, and that's dipping what happened in sugar syrup — but, come on, shaant to main ghar pe bhi nahi rehti, chhutti pe aake thodi rahungi.

Arwah Caves

Arwah Caves happen to be my first experience with caving at all. And, I kid you not, I felt dumb walking beside my brother through this cave. I mean, all credits to his new school, this kid already makes me feel enough inferiority complex. Add this to the same box, sigh. 

Contextually, my brother happens to be a great geology enthusiast, and I’ve always been meh about it. But walking through this cave, I kept thinking to myself, “Why didn’t I pay more attention in my Geography class?” Because, my oh my, I would’ve actually been able to understand the how and the why, the what and the when of the stalagmite and stalactite deposits we saw all over. They looked pretty, by the way. 

And also the fossils! OMG! Like, legit fossils. Like the ones from my 10th grade Bio textbook. I was so blown. Seashells and big and small fish bones — I love my fish, I’m a pescatarian through and through — carnivorous, frankly — but I’ve only ever seen those in my plate. It was so cool. Especially the adorable little fossilized jellyfish I spotted. My mom also spotted a starfish apparently, and she did try very hard to make me see it, but I couldn’t figure it out for the life of me. But still, so, so cool, this place. 

Noh Ka Likai Falls

There are two scary things about this waterfall. The height of the plunge, and the story behind the name. Why? The plunge is about 1100 ft, which is…well, too much. And second, the story. It’s morbid. Unpopular opinion, I like to read those kinda stories; but it is gory. (Follow that hyperlink if you like reading mentally disturbing stories like me.)

But none of that is why I’ll remember this waterfall. I’ll remember it because I got to sit on a cliff. Me, who’s very, very, very, bone-chillingly terrified of heights — who normally doesn’t even look out the window if my side faces the valley. I sat on the cliff, without panicking, without wanting to move away. It is all thanks to Jit Da, who simply said, “Kuch daring karna hai to mere saath aao.” I’ll never forget that. And of course, Baba, and his, “Go,” with the signature eye roll, always pushing me to test my limits; who’ll give the proud smile that’s reserved only for me when I do it and look back at him. 

Further, because neither can I bring this incident out of context, nor can I possibly forget the tongue-lash all four of us, Jit Da included, got from Mamma the moment we came back. From where she was watching us, it looked to her as if we were sitting on the ledge, which we weren’t — there was at least a good foot between us and the edge, but it scared her. So we were honored with a good earful, and the others got to see Mamma storming off. 

Mawsmai Caves

Mawsmai Caves, Mawsmai Caves. What do I even write about them? I could write a whole lot, but that’d be a lie. Because I’m mostly likely to only have recollection of one moment — the three minutes we spent in pitch-black darkness. So Stygian, it didn’t matter if your eyes were open or closed. With the Om chanting, the Ma-kaar (hum), and the glistening of the water droplet pearls when illuminated by high-powered light, it was ethereal. There’s no other word for it. Ethereal is it.

But that tranquil serenity was only possible because of Kaka’s timely strategy of waiting behind for a while so that we could do it at our pace, without any crowd, and actually get to enjoy it fully. I was amazed by how info and instructions flowed through like a domino effect, almost like playing Chinese Whispers. 

Besides, I’ll also never forget the absolutely cringe videos we filmed — scenes, dialogues, and acts tailor-made for every pair; basically, full-on nautanki. 

Then, we went to this secluded Sunset Point — serene is the word. I'm just going to attach a picture and leave the rest to your imagination.

And of course, the heart-to-heart with Chehel that evening. It was unexpected. And to think I’d initially thought we’d never get along in a million years. We came such a long way in so less time, it’s unbelievable.

Double Decker Root Bridge, the Blue Lagoon and Pure Inarticulacy

How do I even start with this? However much I try to put it into words, nothing will come even remotely close to what I felt that day. 

The thing is, this trek starts off with 2000 steep steps downhill, and the moment you think you’ve found your bearings — “Yeah I definitely got this” — you get slapped with ‘man proposes, God disposes’ — your legs start shivering and you realize that nope, you don’t got it. Not by a long shot. 

We were totally drained by the time we reached the double-decker root bridge. But I have to say, there is something in the Meghalayan waters. They rejuvenate you. Re-energize you. If it weren’t for the stream flowing under the bridge, I fail to see how any of us would’ve made it to the Lagoon in full senses. I speak for myself when I say this — I would’ve made it somehow, hanging by a thread, dead on my feet, panicking about how I’m gonna make it back up, and positively unable to enjoy and take in the utter resplendence that the Blue Lagoon is. 

After a solid 4 hours of trekking, at last, the Blue Lagoon came into view. I don’t think I’ve ever been as relieved as I was when I saw water. Oh, wait. I was, just last week, when I realized I’d made it to TY successfully — but still nowhere as much as what I felt seeing the lagoon. I’m telling you, I don’t know who gave me the patience to wait for the life jacket and slowly tread into water — I was so covered with sweat, I wanted to jump. But, oh lord. The water. Ahhhh! Out of this world!

I’ll never forget the cliff jumping that Jit Da suggested the moment Mamma left — it is what it is; humans gotta learn from previous (cliff) experiences, folks. Then, those few seconds of alarm when Kaki accidentally got directly under the waterfall and we couldn’t see her at all. All of it was pure, unadulterated madness, I tell you. I had jelly-noodle legs after, I couldn’t feel anything below my hips. But that lasted only for, perhaps, a solid hour or so, and what came later was feeling as though someone had tied huge stones to my calves and thighs. By the time we made it to the start of the flight of those dreadful 2000 steps, uphill now, all of us were wondering how on Earth we were going to reach back up. But we had. Good heavens, we had. And was I so, so proud that we had.  

I didn’t know, even then, if I’d remember this experience for the Lagoon by itself. But I would certainly remember how intense the whole thing was. How we all had done it, and how we all, despite all the pain and exhaustion, had embraced and reveled the hell out of it.

But truly, if someone were to ask me why this trip is so close to my heart, the above mentioned would make up only a small part of why. The major part would solely be because of the group, the people, and all the good times together as a wild group of 12. This trip wouldn’t have been half as memorable if it weren’t for them. 

I was just telling my parents the other day, that I was a thousand percent sure that had we been just the four of us, we would’ve skipped most of the thrilling stuff we ended up doing. Sitting on the cliff (and getting that good earful from Mamma), actually making it to the lagoon, cliff jumping, swimming in the falls. None of it. All four of us are rather risk averse, my mom more than the others. And hence, I, who’s adventurous, but also shit-scared of the ‘firsts’, owe it all to Jit Da, and the amazing, amazing people with us. 

All the noise we made — multiple rounds of Ek Machli, Association, Antakshari, that once when we played the game of 21 so loud and boisterous, we got bashed so badly for it — oh my God. Core memory, for real. 

Kaka’s typical, incredulous and amused, “Kay he?” Our constant “Aur kitna baaki hai?” during every single trek and the automatic, unending, “Bas, aa hi gaya,” that followed. Me and Chehel having a laughter streak only and only because seeing the other laugh was too funny. The whole petition that we kids are going to sign collectively (again, inside joke). J-Da, Jit Da's comrade, saying that one of his best moments was seeing the triumphant smile on our faces when we returned from the 7-hour trek, his Bihu dance, the spot-on impression he did of my mom storming off in a rage, and the Assamese version of Ek Machli he taught us. The adorable, adorable Assamese names he and Jit Da gave us. These memories will stay with me for a long, long time; arguably more than the rest.

I’m sure my friends, who know me well, who’re reading this right now, are already wondering how this blog is so long. Because I’m usually not the emotional kind, unless it’s about fictional gentlemen dying (Chehel, I’m looking at you). But, I’m about to confess something no one knows — our last day, en route to Guwahati Airport, towards the end, I swear, if I’d stayed in that bus a minute longer, I’d’ve cried. I was already holding it in — I would have. Seriously. I. Would. Have. Cried. Not because the trip had ended — I knew it was going to — but because I might never get meet these people ever again. At least never like this. It’s so unlike me to get attached to a certain set of people so quickly, it’s taken me by surprise too. Yet, I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Even so, all the credit, for every little thing, goes to Jit Da. I've been focusing more on our group — but, at the same time, those experiences can't be brought out of their context. And that context, Jit Da gave.

We could have the seamless fun because he meticulously planned and smoothed out the when, where, what, how of things. We often don't realize the amount of effort that goes behind the scenes because we can't see it, but it is, arguably, more important than what happens at the forefront. I'm only now realizing this, with hindsight, that the flow of the tour was really masterful — without making it known to us, he took us from Level 1 to, perhaps, Level 4 of trekking in the matter of a few days.

He'd said on the first day, "The group can make or break the tour," but actually, the fact that the group made it says more about him as our Sutradhar than it says about any of us. He was the thread to our beads, the one tying us all together, ensuring that it didn't fall apart. The patience he has, my God. To have that kind of patience is mad. I'm pretty sure even if the sky were to fall, he'd probably just say, "I need two minutes to myself to think and I'll get back to you."

Immense, immense gratitude, from the bottom of my heart to all our Da's — our Tri-Da's, much like the Tridev . This trip wouldn't have been anything without the three of you. Thank you for making it what it was — I wouldn't be here trying to pen so much down if it weren't for you. Nothing I could say would convey it well enough, but thank you, thank you, thank you! All of it was possible only because you were there, unwavering and tenacious! ♥️

Now that I have brought the blog to an emotional wind-up anyway, why not add a heartfelt poem to sign it off? After all, aadat se majboor, as a member of the tortured poets department, you see. 

The hills, the hornbills; the landscape, and the unending horizon
Things I thought I’d seen before 
New people, or old friends, I couldn't say.
The invisible wall of apprehension dissipated, and
the initial skepticism slowly morphed into crazy mad fun
Some of the best moments getting made unconsciously 
In the blink of an eye, it is all now a thing in the past
As this trip ends, and I stay up at night trying to find the right words 
I realize I’m going back tomorrow with the heaviest heart
Full of memories that will last me a lifetime
And yet I’ll crave to relive just once again.

Meghalaya, ilsym. I’ll miss you.

And, dear Meghalaya, I do hope we meet again.

~ r.a.w

It'd mean the world to me if you take a moment to hit that like button! Thank you! ♥️

ps: I wouldn't mind if you hit the back toggle and check out my tortured poetry — just saying 🤪🤷🏻‍♀️