Footloose and Foodist

A Small Slice of Shillong

Every time it happens and every time I am unprepared for it and when I realise what it is, I can’t help but get a kick out of it. Each time I am in Shillong, in the far North East of India, the first night when I go to bed, there is a sort of cooing sensation/sound in my ears. As I snuggle in further under the blankets, I realise that the sensation is the total silence around– zero noise. Going from Delhi, that’s some experience. There’s no whirring of traffic, no voices, nothing, zilch, as the night darkens the silence takes over everything. Of course, it doesn’t happen in all of Shillong, but it does in most localities. The next night you don’t feel it, you become part of it.

I have always been a votary of a different time zone for the North East of India. The sun rises early, it sets early too. Daylight starts much before it does in the rest of India, by 5 am it’s bright and chirpy and people are busy going about their lives. The evening creeps in earlier, in winters by 4o’clock, the lights are on in most houses and outside it’s like a twilight zone. Sometimes in winters, the silence and the heavy darkness makes it seem as if it already late into the night, when it is barely 7pm. So why can’t there be a different time zone for North East India?

lf there is one grouse I have, it is that in the mornings however much you want to, you cannot sleep late. Despite ensuring that no natural light can seep into the room in the morning- like all hill stations all windows have two sets of curtains, the sheers or mostly the lacy ones and the heavy curtains on top that fall down right from top of the ventilators – somehow the daylight like a naughty child tiptoeing in manages to sneak in. Then there are the crowing cocks and the barking dogs and pressure cooker whistles and general hustle bustle. But before you know it, you slide into the time routine there – early to bed and early to rise.

Getting up early, the bracing air and the general lack of polluted air inspires healthy feelings – like early morning walks. Where I go for my morning walk is a long winding road that climbs up gradually and stops at the foothills of Shillong Peak. It stops for us civilians because beyond that it is Defence land (Jaka Shipai) as it is called in the local Khasi language. Halfway on the road I walk, on the right hand side is an Assam Rifles base, its slogan says Tagda Raho (Stay strong). Well, one needs to be strong to walk up and down the road daily!

The inviting road

Greenery everywhere

The way to the silk farm

There’s also the forest nursery of the state forest department, little saplings growing in tiered polythene bags, in a neat row, gradually climbing up the slopes till they disappear from view.The tall trees stand like caring guardians. Till one fourth of the way there are houses on either side, on the left on a higher level and on the right much below. One of them is an old fashioned Assam style cottage, a relic from the past. Though it still stands dignified, there is a fear that one day it might give way to a present day concrete structure. Some of the house are ugly, some cute little cottages. Often there are ivy trails valiantly climbing up the walls and even adorning discarded paint tines and broken buckets! There are pine trees everywhere and some other varieties in between including blooming jacarandas. Some of the ferns in the forest are so huge, they at times appear creepy. Every house, big or small, sport flowers in every probable containers, some seen to be believed. Blooming roses and every shade of balsam, geraniums, even marigolds and what-have-you! It doesn’t seem to take much effort to grow flowers here. There’s even a silk farm up on the hills.

Old Assam style cottage- rarely seen these days

Pine tree and trailing Ivy- Love them!

Wild ferns

Flowers grow everywhere and in everything!

Blooming Balsams!

Then there are the lantanas growing wild and profusely, their bright orange and yellow cluster flowers standing out among the greens. On a Saturday morning one sees two brothers, sharing a bicycle, struggling to pull the lantana bushes from behind the barbed wires fencing the defence land. The lantana berries, very small black ones, are blooming. The berries on the bushes close to the fence have been plucked off, the brothers are trying to reach out and pull in the ones beyond their reach. I stop, we pick a stick, or rather a longish twig and somehow manage to pull in one branch of the elusive bush. Holding on to that we manage to reach out and pull more. It’s quite a handful of berries that the brothers manage to pluck. The berries are tarty-sweet. They are happy. Khu- Blei shibun (Thank you very much) they tell me. Khu-Blei is such a lovely Khasi phrase, it means both thank you and god bless. It is a god bless morning.

The barbed wires come in the way of the Lantana berries

The green berries turn pitch black when ripe

The breath becomes heavy and the legs feel the strain as one climbs up further, after the silk farm on the left, it’s a steep climb up. The road turns left; it’s still a steep climb. Halfway there is a small lane going in on the left, the lane ends in a flight of stairs that is enough to defeat me. There are people coming up and down, carrying small milk cans. Someone has a farm up there and you can buy milk, watching the farmer milk the cow right in front of your eyes to ensure that it is not adulterated! The stiff climb begins to gently level out, or rather roll up now. Far below on the left side, there is a new football field, freshly laid it seems and some kids are furiously kicking a ball around. On the right, there is a high wall bordering the road, above is a flat basketball ground. The trainer, in all white with a whistle round is neck, is ensuring the kids first take several laps around the ground. A child in on a swing that makes a powerful creaky noise while two boys exercise.

The new football field

Exercise time

The road turns right sharply and seems to roll down a slope; I only see trees and more greenery. There is no energy left to walk out that road. Just where the road turns left, the area on the left has barbed wires fencing. Beyond that it is defence area and Shillong Peak further beyond with the hills rising up as if to touch the skies. Before the fencing lies a cemetery on a slope. There is a freshly laid grave, the cross laden with wreaths and flowers all around. Some of the graves have marble epitaphs, some plain simple wooden crosses. That's a beautiful place for eternal rest.

On weekdays, school children in neat uniforms are either walking down the road, or being ferries in cars. There’s a public tap where several Jerry cans are placed in a neat row. There are other youngsters, probably college kids, some very trendily dressed briskly walking down the road. Then are some ladies with big cane baskets, with straps that go round the basket and go up the head of the ladies like thick hair bands. That way while the head carries the load, the hands are free. The baskets are usually filled with greens and vegetables headed for the market.

Just outside the silk far, a small hill streams runs down the hills with a gurgling noise and disappears into a small pool. Alongside are thick squared cement parapets. There are always some people around it, some doing yoga seated on the parapet, some doing sit ups in the small patch of grass next to it. There are some ladies too, doing frenetic arm swings that makes one chuckle.

As the legs begin to complain and the sweat breaks out despite the cool weather, it’s time to go back. On the return trip, the eyes never fail to seek out the church with a bright blue roof and a small green tin board with brown wooden borders, hung on a lamp post with the biblical quote, ‘Be not wise in your own eyes, fear the lord, and turn away from evil’ (Prob 3: 7), first in Khasi and then in English. That’s a lovely thought and a lovely idea too.

The blue roofed church

It’s strawberry time in Shillong. This hill station capital of Meghalaya seems to have discovered strawberry with a vengeance more than a decade ago. Sohliya village, over 30 kilometres away from Shillong is said to be the strawberry fields of the state. The town also holds an annual strawberry festival. In the markets there are strawberries everywhere. Unlike in Delhi where one barely gets 200 g for Rs 160-180 and sometimes even more, here nearly half a kg is being sold for Rs 70-90.

One starts walking back faster, the strawberries are calling!