of thunder and dragons - through Darjeeling and Bhutan

All ye who enter!

We all remember that time in the bar when people are drunk enough to disclose their past lives. Some were daughters of Persian kings. Some were sons of Persian kings. Some were Persian kings. Most of the others were either Einstein or James Dean. Well, I have recently realised that I was the last dragon. There is something about Bhutan that is so much better than erstwhile Persia or the US. I couldnt have been anywhere else. And the fact that I was born and settled in the plains is simply God's way of playing a joke.

A land locked away and kept a mystery to most who cannot afford it, Bhutan has been my preferred Shangri La after Ladakh. The water is pure. The people are pure. The alcohol is cheap. The cigarettes are illegal. Its how life should be. The fact that I love it is cliched and quite an understatement. After you have somehow escaped Assam, Bhutan feels like one of those lost paradises that movies keep talking about. A four-hour journey from Agra to Delhi felt taxing. A 6-hour journey from Gelephu to Wangdue felt like a dream.

The people have their priorities right. The king has his priorities right. To match the abstract notion of Gross National Happiness in such a way that you see the tangibility on the people's faces... I dont believe that even the most famous address on Janpath could do that.

The custodians of Wangdue

I started off in Gelephu. The border town is just waking up. No one really knows about it. None of the drivers at the Guwahati airport knew where it was. I was in love with it already. A 6-hour drive through villages where women wore their Sarees like the latest Chanel evening gowns, and I was in. The mystery was backed by this elaborate gateway in the middle of no-where and with the hills just rising beyond it. It is only in Gelephu that you can see some of the smaller factors that contribute to the happiness - the Druk and army distilleries. A Black label here and I am ready for whatever Bhutan throws at me.

The next day was reserved for Wangdue. Another 6 hours and I was finally at a place where the only sound I could hear is of the river, where there is no mobile network and where "no wireless networks found" is a very prompt message that has undertones of "what the hell are you thinking!!". This considering the fact that the place I am staying at is only 5 min away from the road. And this is not my vacation. A walk through the old dzong brings out laughing novices, stern monks and a walk outside brings out the colourful bazaars. Wangdue is where the heart is. Do you remember the old worn posters stuck behind the back of autos, the ones that you chuckled on and considered cliches just because it was virutally impossible to find such a place ? Well, this is what I saw from my balcony . The green river roared and tumbled. Behind it, a hill rises that is covered by creepers and trees that I have to say are lush and green for lack of creativity in finding a better description. I was home, and there is no other place that I would rather be.

From Wangdue, I headed towards el capitol... probably the biggest city in Bhutan. Thimphu is known for a lot - for the dzong, for the king, for the medicine, for the crafts, for a lot. But Thimphu is incomplete without the night. It is only then that the oysters and the oyster bazaars come out. It is only then that you can get to clubs called Om Bar that boast of Thimphu's budding and awesome nightlife. While you spend the night on blues and druk 11000, it is only now that you realise that the whole issue about Bhutan fighting its past with its present is not really a fight, but a gradual blend. The same women looking so homely in their kiras do let their hair down and groove to Joplin and CSNY. What would life be without drinking under the stars listening to Clapton in a land known more for not being known about that much.

The Punakha dzong

Thimphu also opens the gates to Paro - where they built a monastery in a crack on the mountain face more than 200 years ago. With such names as the tiger's nest and the whole buildup to the nest (you can only hike up to the place... a hike of 3-4 hours), you can see the glamour that stems from the mystery. And it all seems worth it. When the monastery does unfold in front of you, you do not miss the lost fat or the fact that you had to wake up early. All you realise is that it is not hard to gain enlightenment if you stay in a place like this.

Phuntsoeling turned out to be my last stop in Bhutan. The gateway city again humiliates you. On this side is a bit of Europe, except that the theme for the day is Himalayan Buddhism. Clean roads, smart places for beef and red rice, ordered gardens, prayer wheels.... on the other side is a an absolute mess, with too many people and too many paan stains.

Bridge over the river Teesta

Darjeeling turned out to be better than usual. The killing and the apprehension of a strike helped take all the Mr. Bannerjees and their chunnu munnus out of Darjeeling, leaving the place very British and very likeable - the way it should have been. It is only when you dont have to see where you are going that you can actually lift your head and check out the former movie theater that is now the municipality building and the post office.

It is only then that you thank god that Bhutan is not an Indian state and realise that West Bengal does not deserve Darjeeling. As I follow my route again, I am reminded of the discussion that I was having with the editor of NGT-ZA. We were discussing why two sides of the border were so different and I said that it is because of the number of people. Bhutan had only 934000 people to manage compared to India's 1.1 billion. "It might seem like a very good reason, but it isnt", was her reply."Its the reason alright. Its just not a good enough excuse", observed her photographer. These were the opening statements while we dived back into the land of the thunder dragon.

It is very weird. The other day I was reading this article by someone from somewhere who said that the environment was not his primary problem as he was bothered with bigger issues like poverty etc. The only difference between Bhutan and India is that we have not yet realised that all the problems are interconnected. In fact, we would have had a more effective government only if politicians travelled more.