A sliver of light was dancing on my face. As one eye slowly peeped open and I turned away from the light two thoughts came into my mind. First the sunlight was so sweet, no sting of it even as it played on my face. Second it was 10 in the morning and I was still in bed. Oh it’s good to be on a holiday. As I get ready I muse on the day gone, the train journey from Kolkata to new jalpaiguri station, the haggling in Hong Kong market of siliguri for smuggled goods for the kids back home and then the drive uphill. The beautiful drive uphill through a reserve forest, hairpin bends through rolling tea estates as the nip in the air slowly increased. The toy train chuffing by at Ghoom station, even as you muse on a name like Ghoom, as you see the mist slowly swirls round you and makes you feel that you are in an enchanted land. And then Darjeeling peeps in the distance and your heart leaps even as your eyes sweep the horizon for a peep of the magnificence of the Himalayas. But alas it was evening already and Kanchenjungha had decided to shroud herself in her misty veil. The dinner at Glenarys was filling and after a hard days travel sleep was the only thing succor needed. But even as I get ready my heart flutters as I scan the sky crestfallen for the mist is still there. Lady Kanchenjungha don’t be so cruel, for I have come to thee from afar. As I leave the hotel and make my way to the terrace of Keventers and a sumptuous English breakfast, stories from my childhood swarm my head. Stories of a fire crackling in the wooden fireplaces in the rooms of the planters club that is just across the room. Stories of a sunrise experience at tiger hill fraught with its magic, which I must experience tomorrow. Stories also of the lilting tunes and merry beat from old days as kanchis danced in the mall. Yes they swarm my head as I smile at my fiancé across a plate of sausages salami double poached eggs coffee and buttered bread.
I laugh at the look of incredulity at the huge portion of the meal and assure her that it will be well spent in the day. Taking her hand after the food I take a slow walk past the mall along the meandering road on the hill side. The mist swirls around and it is a comfort to hold on to each other, to be able to reach out and smile at each other. Even as we walk her cheeks flush from the exertion, her smile as we talk tells me that the disappointments of the year are buried, if not forgotten. Every step in the bosom of this pristine beauty called Darjeeling is strengthening us again, and I can’t help hold her tight and whisper a love you every now and then, and her smile with that twinkle in her eyes is more than a reward.
Winding our way to the market downhill it’s time to roll up the sleeves and bargain. What better way to serenade your lady than to fill her arms with shopping. Lunch of thupka and fried momos and we are ready to face the shopping. So it’s time to buy a baku for her, and a khukhri for her to use as a showpiece. Tea of all kinds for use at home and to gift has to be bought in abundance. Orange pekoe a name from the school books of long gone days draws my eyes and even though it cost 1300 a kg I cant help but buy a small packet.
Though disappointed at not having seen the lady, tired we make our way to the hotel for a dinner and sleep. Though the mind wants to serenade you, all I settle for is a tight embrace with a thought of what I have planned for tomorrow.
The alarm clock trills us awake and bundled under our woolens we get into the cab with night still swirling. A warm coffee is shared between us as we huddle together for warmth as the cab hurtles in the night towards tiger hill. Its pitch back when we reach but even then teeming with people. There is an excitement in the air, just as there is within me. As I hold on to you, my heart beats fast, even as there is a whisper that gathers as a red glow seems to spread in the horizon. But there is a mist blowing in and fading the red from spreading. I pull you close to me waiting for the right moment. Even as my hands seek out yours I spy a small orb of orange in the horizon. The look of wonder in your eyes at the sight on front changes even as you realize I have slipped a ring on your finger. As you turn with a tear reflecting Kanchenjungha awash in the rising sun, I ask you to forgive my disappointments. In Darjeeling with kanchenjunga in her splendor as my witness I wait for the biggest moment of my life.
BY SOUMYASHREE CHATTERJEE
