45
degrees and still surviving…
Years
back when I got married to a Journo work-based in Ahmedabad, least was known
that behind all the glitz and glamour of this history draped city, life would
be arduous in the western wing of the country. North-east’s Shillong glistened
every next hour after fresh downpour. That was the place I was born&
brought up in. Temperature not shooting up over 18 degrees( that was long back,
I am told!)! The handbag has to be loaded with umbrella, raincoat.
This
was our 2nd visit after seven no moisture years. The outside temperature was 46
degrees as we were all set to escape to the east. It was just a while later
that bumpy flight reminded us of cloud, rains, thunderstorm. Heat wave had long
back frothed away. Flight delayed and we reached Guwahati airport pretty late
in terms of North East time. All our happiness to reach Shillong seemed such a
dreadful venture. While our co-passengers skirted away much before we actually
pinched out the reason. We were left almost helplessly wandering. It was almost
8 p.m and things were darker than black. North east shuts early. Which is why
it becomes pretty unnerving to be left marooned in any part of NE. There are
options in other cities from Kolkata onwards, if ten vehicle wallahs refuse, there will be ten others
to strike a deal to drop you to your destination. It is really different here
and we were proven sophistic in believing that things had opened up in NE.
Assimilating little gumption, my throat made some crackling sound and that
happened to be in Assamese. Trust me, that helped us get going. Soon a young lad
approached and in no time we were zoomed out of the departure after a flat one
hour ordeal. The fella helped us with a connecting vehicle that would trip us
through the hilly turf. And off we were! Half past 3 hour sojourn: the akin,
unaltered bumpy-dusty road led us. We snaked our way through smirking at the
same old signboards ’work gong on’ just with the ardent hope to reach home at
the earliest. Finally we did, but were soon aware of the never acquainted load
shedding. Lights went off before we could unload.
Next
morn inhaling fresh cold air eyes strolled all over. We perhaps had come of
age. Things did not seem as pleasant as it did in so many years to love the
place from miles, miles and miles distanced.
Our
place has lost the European cloud. The sky is dusty now. The streets so
anti-anglicized. And lo! The skull caps, the veils which we never did see
during our growing up times are almost everywhere. From selling fishes, eggs,
vegetables, qai ( betel leaf combined with
areca nut) to darting away on the threadlike Shillong
lanes on an SUV. One could now confront feminine frames veiled! Missionary
schools introduced salwar-suits as school uniforms! Missed out on noticing School
girls from Loreto Convent though. (It was difficult to commute during school
hours). Another eye-brow raising observation is that the Assam type one floor
houses have been replaced by high rise buildings and flats. One strong tremor
and everything reduces to brown.
Next noteworthy transition is, all of a sudden every house now has
begun to flaunt more than one four wheeler. Now, a hill station with very
narrow lanes is failing to manage traffic congestion. Hours of getting stranded
in the town is just another acceptable situation.
Yes, things sported a pretty liberal
and unchained look. But where are the denizens? PB was thronged by all kind of
people in different plaintive shades, bizarre to an aging Shillongite. Young
graduating faces were amiss. Reason: soon after exam results there is a craze
among youths to hunt out opportunities outside NE. (Irrefutably no options
left, no opportunities built).No doubt development, liberalization is a
crunching need to make a town visible. For the first time, seeing the barren
hills, the waxed up lands, fashionable hill station draping in not so different
attire that was left behind, proper political leadership, people’s movement,
proper media reporting, academic lip services were felt a must.
Interestingly, Shillong streets too kept my mind churning. The local taxis/cab which drove us from one corner to another in mere Rs5 (share taxi), now affirmatively nodded only when the drivers had a mood to!!! If you are fortunate enough you could “book” a cab and that remember would charge you tongue-out rent. Just a reminder, the city buses are no longer plying on the streets! They’d be placed well, soon at the Shillong museum. Don’t miss out on that on your next trip!
Since hiring a vehicle to
commute within the city was an ordeal, walking was picked up as the best(est)
means. And trust me burnt down out the adipose tissues accumulated. In just two
weeks my love for the crowded Shillong was nearing tail out. But. It was during
a very hasty drive to Mylliem and The Sacred Grove that emotion flung wide
open. And then was it recognized that it wasn’t easy enough to fall out of love
for my birth place even though it was wearing out of its natural glow. Half an
hour drive from the snarled- up slim lanes just let me rekindle my love.
A thought crossed as I
sat stretching my ken far and wide all around me, while I sat on the lap of
green mattress (read grasses): the sacred grove needs to be left appreciated
from a distance ¬ ventured within. One can do away with
commercialization. As we moved towards the skimpily stretched town, prayer was
left for its survival.
.
We are the selfish lots and nothing
pleases us more than responding to our needs.
 |
| Sacred grove, Shillong |
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