That peaceful sleep broke only the next morning. Chandan sir had told us that anyone who wanted to see the sunrise had to be at the helipad by six; come late and you would miss it, because the sun waits for nobody. So in the morning everyone was at the helipad as instructed. It had been a long time since I had watched a sunrise like that. Even how fast the sun comes up is a thing to enjoy; within moments its light had spread and lit up everything around us.
The Lushai village and a road coiled like a mitochondrion
After a little longer there, we went to see the Lushai village next to the helipad. In a small space they have presented their heritage beautifully, and many of us got busy taking photos in their traditional dress. Abul Kashem sir and Mihir Lal Saha sir arrived a while later, and Mihir sir gave us an important talk on the Lushai village and on Japanese culture, which we listened to attentively. He was also the first to point out how strongly lichens had taken hold there. After a look around we headed back to the resort for breakfast, and on the walk back I spotted some Cycas plants. Breakfast done, we packed up, said goodbye to the Darjeeling Resort and set out again for something new. This time the destination was Khagrachari town.
The chander gari rocked along, rising and falling with the waves of the hills, and I was enjoying today’s ride even more than yesterday’s. The road to Sajek has one peculiar quality: you can see where you are going from a long way off, it even looks quite close, but the road is coiled like a mitochondrion. The jeep goes right, goes left, swings round, and then you realise that after all that road you have moved only a little way forward from where you were. Little by little, in this way, we left Sajek behind and moved towards Khagrachari.
On the way the children were waving tata again, just like the day before. Then a gentleman in the jeep ahead of us threw a ten-taka note towards them. Watching the children run after that note reminded me of Sanjib Chandra Chattopadhyay’s travelogue “Palamau”, and the scene where the children are given money at a river crossing. That was a lovely story. But here the children were chasing the money without looking around them, and a serious accident could happen at any moment. I was still thinking about that when we reached Khagrachari town. There I was a little surprised to see the flags of Brazil, Argentina, Germany and other teams; the World Cup had clearly touched the whole country. Brazil were playing that night, and you could feel it here and there. Taking all this in, we arrived back at yesterday’s hotel, Eco Chari Inn.
A dash for Jumma and the steps of Risang falls
It was a Friday. The moment we got out of the jeeps, a few of us ran for the mosque for Jumma prayers. But it was already half past one, and in the middle of the road we split into two camps. One side said the time is gone, let us go back, shower, freshen up and pray afterwards. The other said we are nearly there, let us just pray and go. We were still debating what was best when we found ourselves in front of the mosque. The time had passed, true, but the khutba was still going on, so there was still a ray of hope. We did a hurried wudu and managed to join the prayer. Two lessons that day: stay hopeful, and keep at it until the end. Back at the hotel we freshened up and went for lunch. The cooking at this hotel is genuinely excellent. We ate well, rested a little and set off again, this time to see Khagrachari’s famous Risang falls.
I rode on the roof of our pilot’s jeep, taking in the view. The funny thing was that ten of the twelve people in our jeep were on the roof, and the inside was practically empty. On the way back it was dark, though, so everyone sat inside. The jeep dropped us at a spot above the falls and we started down in groups, one after another. The way down was terribly steep and looked frightening, so quite a few people decided not to go down at all and stayed at the top. Bit by bit we descended until we were right by the waterfall. The path is a run of notched concrete steps hugging the hillside, also very steep, and you can tell just by looking that the falls are a long way down. Taking the steps slowly, my eyes fell on the hillside, and when I looked closely there was a carpet of ferns and Selaginella over it. Looking at those, we reached the bottom and the falls. We had been late leaving the hotel, so by the time we got there the light was already fading.
The teachers began hurrying everyone back. And that was exactly the problem: as easily as we had come down, that was how hard the climb back would be. I had come down late and was at the back of everyone, so I tried to run to the front, which was another piece of foolishness. A short run and I was gasping; I managed the rest of the way a little at a time. There were motorbikes available, and for a little money you could ride straight to the top, but nobody was keen on taking that risk, so we all walked up. At the top a forest department officer was waiting for us. He took us to the range office, which was under construction. The officer in charge turned out to be a senior from our own Botany department. It was 2 December, the 25th anniversary of the Chittagong Hill Tracts Peace Accord, and an event had been organised there for it. That he gave us his time in the middle of all that was a real pleasure.
After this courtesy visit we returned to the hotel. But this was our last ride in the chander gari. We took a photo with Sukash dada and said goodbye to him. I have been telling his stories for two days, and I think this is the first time I have said the pilot’s name. From tomorrow we would be travelling by bus again, no more chander gari, and that thought stuck somewhere in my mind. But it was all fate, and there was nothing to do but accept it.
The last night at Eco Chari
Everyone freshened up in their rooms and was ready for dinner, and the moment the call came we were all up on the hotel’s fourth floor. The food at this hotel really was wonderful. After eating and a short rest, some went to their rooms, some went downstairs to chat, and some stayed on a while where they were. A small group went out for a walk around the hotel, and I followed them. It was a beautiful, quiet place with hardly anyone about, and the crickets could be heard clearly. A little way along there was a small tong-like shop, where another group had already settled in before us. We joined their tea adda, and it felt good. Eventually we left that lovely spot and went back to the hotel, where the teachers and everyone else were waiting downstairs. There a small class took place on what we had learnt and seen on the tour so far.
After the class we went to our rooms. I thought I would get a peaceful sleep, but one glance at the television in the room and that idea vanished. I like football, but my roommates are hardcore. Brazil were playing at one in the morning and they were going to watch at any cost. For some reason the TV was not working, though, and while I felt sorry for them I felt a certain peace for myself. I thought they might go next door to watch, but the people next door were Argentina fans, so that did not happen. They checked the score on their phones now and then. By then I was already sinking into the world of sleep, and I could not hold out as a resident of this one.
As soon as I woke, Rasif said, bhai, it was a good thing we did not stay up for the match, Brazil lost. Rakib, beside him, agreed: yes, bhai, just as well, it was not much of a game. Well then. Other people wake to birdsong and a good morning; I wake to football news. Fine. So today one of our camps would be observing a silence. And that is exactly what happened. When the call for breakfast came and we all trooped up to the fourth floor, you could tell as soon as you got near them that they were subdued and saying nothing. But halfway through breakfast someone said something about the match, the talk started up and things slowly returned to normal. We discussed the plan for the day. After breakfast we packed our bags, thanked our favourite hotel, Eco Chari Inn, and said goodbye. Mihir sir said a few words of guidance, we took a group photo for the memory, and walked to the bus that was waiting for us.
Nata at the Horticulture Park, darkness at Alutila
Today’s final destination was Rangamati, but on the way we would see the Horticulture Park and the Alutila cave before spending the night there. With the bus full of noise and singing we reached the Horticulture Park very quickly. It was still early, so apart from a handful of people there were no tourists; any later and you could not have stood the crowd. We got to wander around in complete comfort. Cross the hanging bridge and go inside and the atmosphere changes completely, so quiet and calm. Alongside the familiar plants we found several rare ones, and as at Sajek the strong presence of ferns and lichens was worth noticing. Both sides of the path had been planted with lovely flowering plants for decoration. Moving slowly on, we suddenly found ourselves in front of the hanging bridge again; the place is laid out so that you go in by one path and come back by the other.
We spent a little more time looking around and set off again. On the way back I came across the fruit of the nata plant by the roadside. I had seen its flowers beside the Darjeeling Resort in Sajek, so now, at last, I had the complete picture of the plant. It immediately brought back “Aam Antir Bhenpu”, the children’s edition of Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay’s Pather Panchali, and the games played there with nata seeds. Whether this nata was that nata, I was not sure. I looked around for a ripe seed but found none, and there was no time. So, hoping to meet it again, I went and sat in the bus.
Next, the Alutila cave. Everyone was so eager for the cave that you could hear it in the singing. Between the songs and the scenery, I never noticed when we arrived in front of the cave. We got off the bus and started walking towards it. The path is cut into the hillside, pretty, with neat rows of trees on either side, and it was a pleasure to go down the steps. The banyan tree halfway along was a real eye-catcher; its hanging roots were so beautifully draped that my heart lifted just looking at it. But sir had told us beforehand not to stop anywhere, as we were short of time, so we went straight to the mouth of the cave. There my eyes suddenly fell on the ground. I had never seen earth with such beautiful patterns, as if someone had painted it with a brush just the way they liked. One by one everyone was going into the cave, and now it was my turn.
I had imagined it would be like a crack running through a hill, but as I went in bit by bit, my idea changed completely. The deeper I went, the narrower the passage became and the less light there was. At one point it was properly dark inside; even with the phone’s flashlight on I could hardly make anything out. A stream of water flowing under my feet added a whole new dimension to this strange experience, and a creeping shiver ran through me. A little further on I saw a light ahead. I cannot describe how happy that light made me. I got out of the cave quickly, with a feeling quite unlike anything else. One by one those behind me came out too. But I was surprised to see Mihir sir emerge from the cave mouth last of all. He had said at first that he would not go in, but his tremendous hunger to know something new truly deserves praise. If you want to do anything in life, you need that kind of will. Then we all started climbing back up. There were a few more sights on the way, still under construction, but good to see all the same. It would have been nice to stay a little longer, but we were hostages to time. Everyone was called onto the bus, and we set off for Rangamati.
The red-earth road to Rangamati
A little way on, the road changed completely. Until now there had been hills, slopes and teak on both sides; now none of that was to be seen. Now there was only water, and more water. Rivers and streams everywhere, and the sunlight glittering on them took my mind away. It brought to mind Rabindranath’s famous song “Gram-chhara oi ranga matir path”, the one about the red-earth road beyond the village. Truly, everything was a delight to the enchanted eye. The one annoyance was that the bus had to stop at a BGB camp every little while. Annoying or not, there was nothing to be done; it was all for our safety.
In the afternoon we reached Rangamati town. We freshened up, had lunch and went to the market to shop for home. Prices were fairly affordable, so many people bought a lot: a fatua for themselves or a brother, a shawl for the family, clothes, or pickles and chocolate to their heart’s content. At one point I felt that if the teachers had not hurried us onto the bus, between us we would have bought everything in the shops. After the shopping we made our way to the Kshudra Nrigoshthi Cultural Institute, the government’s cultural institute for the small ethnic communities, where we would stay the night. It is essentially a government rest house: the people who run music and dance groups, rehearse and take part in various programmes stay here overnight. Chandan sir showed us our rooms, and we freshened up and rested for a while.
Dinner was arranged on the second floor, but the food came packed from a hotel, which spared us the trek there. As every time, it was delicious, and as every time it was on the spicy side. Because of all that chilli a lot of food was left over and some was wasted; everything has its good and bad sides. There was yogurt and sweets afterwards, though, which Subarna ma’am had arranged for everyone.
When the eating was over we all gathered in the room upstairs. The special event of the night was a lottery. Toufika apu and Nasiha had been selling tickets since we arrived in Rangamati, and now the show began. There were 18 prizes and 44 of us including the teachers. The numbers were called one by one, and every winner went as wild with joy as the actor Jasim. Finally the first prize went to Hasibur, and with that the lottery was over. Everyone was supposed to get ready for bed, but instead everyone got ready for Argentina’s match. When it was over, we went to our rooms and slept. The story of Kaptai Lake comes in the next part.
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