Lost in Sikkim

 

This tale happened once upon a time. It is a bit of history with a glamour of romance and comedy.  By chance, it has become my favorite that I often like to recollect at evenings.   

I always dreamt travelling. Preferably, in nature. And on the night of November 23, 1999, dad told me we were going to Sikkim the next week. I was 17 then.  I am 71 now and such fragments from my past floods whenever I am alone.

My dad was a professional bird-watcher. He fancied trees and weird birds. I guess that was why he chose Sikkim. His earnings were not big in addition. My mom left for the world beyond when I was four. Therefore, it was only two of us.

December 2, 1999.

 Halting a night at my aunt’s house in Phuntsholing, dad and I caught the train to Darjeeling. 

I felt for the first time. That feeling when I knew that my dream was unfurling. The more I gazed out of the window of the little train, I could smell the Himalaya again-this time with a flavour of spices in it; the blue pine and the stunted plants that were about to be robed in snow. I really wish you know that feeling.

 Around twilight, we reached there and we could feel home. This was my first time outside of my village and somehow I felt home. Darjeeling seemed to me like a swirling castle, like the DNA strands. My dad’s friend, Sangay Lepcha, who did the same course with him at Calcutta, came to pick us. And I wish again here! That you feel the classic aura of him. Easy to converse and a sense of humor hung over his mouth. We rode in his Audi to Yangtey, Sikkim.

 Uncle had rented a Britsih-built villa for us. And I said to dad that night “Dad, I might try to sleep in the attic. Like the British kids I saw in movies”. He winked at me. Sleep took my tiredness off and the cool air often found warmth on my cheeks. 

 Next morning, around dawn, there was a tap on my forehead. A soft one though. I guess this was the alarm. Amused, half awake, I opened my left eye small.  And there stood a girl.

 To my little surprise, she hushed in low voice, “Tea for you.”

 “Thanks” That was all I could mutter in response. 

She just smiled and stood there. Silence. We could hear the morning break with soft rustles of leaves and some unknown birds, similar to the ones in my village singing. 

"Whatever, just drink it. Many people say our tea is nicer". 

 Nothing more from her, she turns and goes to the veranda. 

 A little taller than me, uncannily egg-shaped face, attached ears and blue eyes and light skin! I was a bit surprised.  I went in the pretext of drinking tea to the veranda expecting her there. 

Hands rested on the wooden deck, she was just looking out. 

I was about to sip the tea when I realized that I could use it to start conversation. Bringing back the cup to my mouth, I told her,"Nice eyes"

 She turned her head towards me, stared and chuckled. 

“Drink your tea” 

“Was your dad a English? Or your mom?”

“How do you know?” she asked me back. 

“Dad. I came here for vacation". At last a wry smile. "I like it here"

The morning was fully broken then and she quickly said, “Ohh! I forgot to get tea for your dad.” She went downstairs and I heard her say, “See you in the evening”

Some people can fascinate you more than anything. It was only few moments but I realized I was liking her than the place I came to.