En Route- Laitlum

Let me describe the scene. One Toyota Innova; Seven guys; three high people and four sober friends to control them. The journey was from Shillong to the Laitlum Canyon. We had a hard time persuading the driver to take us there, despite the bad weather conditions. The two sects of friends were fighting over the aux cable because the unexcited ones were more inclined towards country music, while the latter wanted trap to be blaring across the music systems.

The Google navigation technology failed despondently at those heights and the roads were brilliant. Well, they were, because if it takes 48 minutes to cover a 6 km distance, I guess the roads must be exceptionally smooth; and the journey? Unusually comfortable. Enthusiastic folks, you might find the average speed if you want!

After about an hour of a bumpy ride, we reached the destination. We were waiting in anticipation to step off the car to verify whether the place was really as beautiful as it looked in Google Images. To be honest, we weren’t disappointed at all. Long stretches of beautiful, green meadows covered in dense fog. I immediately regretted not wearing a sweater or a jacket as it was really cold out there. We reached towards the edge of the Laitlum canyon and instead of getting a beautiful and serene view, what we had in front of us were elongated stretches of mist and haze.

Our inquisitive minds naturally wondered what lied beyond that point. Whether it was the end of the cliff with a great depth beyond this, will it again be the long green meadows hiding amidst the cloak of dense fog or will we see a village or a civilisation which can boast of its illuminatic presence in the modern world.

But what happened in the next ten seconds or so, cannot merely be described. I will not be wrong if I say that those ten seconds were one of the most peaceful and breath-taking moments of my life. The fog that covered the arena beyond the cliff drifted in a particular direction, to reveal a paradise consisting of drifting clouds, two waterfalls and a stream, flowing at great depths from where we were standing. The sun which just peeked through the misty atmosphere added to the splendour, as the water of the stream reflected its rays, giving itself an appearance of beautiful flowing gems. For the next few minutes neither of us uttered a word, or even moved. We just stood there- no sounds, no clicking of pictures, no disturbance, just the seven of us and our respective thoughts.

Our seven temporary-philosophical minds were cut short when we heard a call from behind. When we looked around, we saw a man, probably in his sixties. He was togged up in a woollen cap, and a worn out jacket over his sweater. He was armed with a kettle on one hand and a basket consisting of biscuits and cakes in the other. The tea-seller smiled to us through his wrinkled face and with the action of our fingers we ordered seven cups of red tea and a cake. We started sipping the hot, steaming and soothing tea while he stood there waiting and observing each and every one of us. When we asked him about the expenses, he replied “Fo Fo”, or that’s what we heard.

We immediately realised that he didn’t speak English or Hindi, for that fact. In a country with 1.324 billion people speaking over 880 different languages, this was not a surprising scene; according to statistics. However, in reality, we seldom encountered such situations. So, the main task here was to pay the tea-seller in such a way that we don’t lose our money and he also gets his share. As a result, we took out notes of smaller denominations and kept on showing it to the old chap. The entire act of taking money in and out of the wallet and waiting for his approval or rejection was a complete element of fun. We were literally laughing like lunatics at 6,500 feet above sea level. After a lot of struggle combined with a number of trial and error experiments, we finally came to the reasonable amount that he wanted.

We clicked a picture with him as a memoir, we made during this small incident. After he left, we again returned back to our task of enjoying the nature’s bounty. I am not a psychic so I couldn’t read what was going on in my friends’ minds. However, for me, I was no longer observing the nature. I was surprised; surprised by the small incident that just took place a minute back. Surprised by how an old man, with no conventional and common language, with just a teapot and a paper cup was able to divert each and every one of us from our respective problems, worries and produce an un-adulterated laughing atmosphere. Well, maybe, I thought, these are the small moments that show what happiness feels like. Maybe, this is what wise people mean when they say “Happiness is about the journey and not about the destination.” Happiness is a strange thing, much like love or pain. It is possible that you might be searching for happiness in success and riches and a six figure salary while happiness is waiting for you with a kettle and a paper cup filled with red tea, worth fo-fo.

Laitlum, Shillong, Meghalaya, India. ©Mrityunjay Mohan Borah

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Engineer. Avid reader. Epistemophilic. Geek.

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