A week in Sikkim

Poem, 16 April 2019

We went for a week to the majestic mountains
The towering Himalayas, the roof of the world.
They rose up steeply and sharply from the plains
Cloaked alternately in green and ramshackle construction.
Water poured down the slopes to feed a mighty river
Now dammed and prevented from rushing to the sea.

The winding road we traversed was capricious,
Alternating between gleaming new tarmac and brokenness,
Wide and spacious in places, narrow and tight in others,
And everywhere we looked were signs of landslides
Tumbled rocks and open scars on hillsides,
Wrecked bridges and asphalt hanging precariously over the edges.

Its apparently not just the rain to blame
The mountains are young and still growing
As continental plates continue colliding.
The earth has not yet solidified into firm layers
Able to withstand the endless carving out
For roads, hotels and other embellishments
Of modern human activity and development.

Small teams of mostly women
Bowed down over the strenuous work
Of breaking giant stones with small pickaxes
In the same manner as our ancestors
Laboured over thousands of years,
Untouched by the glint of modern machinery.

Their faces screened to ward off the grit and pollution
As they laboured on, stone by stone
Beside the proximate ceaseless rush and jam
Of up and downflowing traffic
Ferrying army personnel and tourists
To the lofty abode of the Gods.

The mending and repairing work is endless
For the military roads have to always be in order
In these high mountains that mark the border
Between two giant nuclearized neighbours,
And hold in their lap a spectacular mountain pass
That formerly cradled a silk and spice route
But now only resentment and the ever-present threat of bloodshed.

And these roads through impossible mountain terrain
Also provide access for the people of the plains
Who venture up for a glimpse of exotic snow and glaciers
Brave grandmothers clothed in flimsy saris and thin sweaters
Bare ankles and feet shod in open exposed sandals
At a chilly dizzy 3700 metres above sea level.

The visitors rode festooned yaks around a frozen lake
And peered from ropeways onto wintry white landscapes.
The driver and guide looked at us in open amazement
When we insisted that we would like to walk and hike.
The mandatory guide then straggled along in his office shoes
Excitedly pointing out prayer flags, trees and snow too.

We recognized over time that he was there to ensure
That we did not wander out of bounds in border terrain,
Rather than to provide food and fodder for our inquiring brains.
On the third and final day when he refused to stop babbling
Our group declared him to be a VIP, a Very Irritating Person
As our driver would say of the cars that honked and raced past.

‘twas a beautiful country with mountains and glaciers
Cascading waterfalls and huge rivers
Forests of spruce, hemlock and rhododendron,
And valleys carpeted with purple flowers
Where shaggy yaks and downy felt-hair cows
Grazed nonchalantly with seeming abandon.

A great diversity of people of all shades and features
And most of them wonderfully friendly and kind
Operated little shops and restaurants
Where they plied you with momos,
Ferns and other local greens,
As well as piping hot tea to warm your innards.

The hills were festooned with prayer flags
And colourful monasteries, large and small
Adorned with exquisite murals and tapestries.
The monks chanted and blew the dungchen
The sounds echoed and reverberated across the mountains
Swelling and filling the courtyards and valleys below.

We were introduced to the recent political history
Of Sikkim’s not-so-innocent merger with India,
And of its earlier 17th century history
Of being rendered a Buddhist monarchy.
Currently it was in the throes of election campaigns
Where the youth appeared to desire some kind of change.

A distinguished gentleman whom we chanced to meet
Had instituted most of the Protected Areas across the State.
Visiting tourist companies, trekking stores and organic markets,
Meeting unusual bookshop owners, orchid growers & bamboo architects,
We came to realize and appreciate the many layers
Of history, life and resilience packed into this multi-faceted little place.