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Sikkim Travelog – Part 6

Wherever we went in Sikkim – one thing was a constant – the Indian Army. You could be excused for thinking the country was at war. While tourists moan and groan about the weather and high altitude, the soldiers of the Indian Army brave the harsh weather conditions to keep us safe. The Army helps people in numerous ways – they protect monuments, relieve traffic congestions on hazardous mountain roads, and provide medical aid when needed.

One couldn’t help noticing the pride with which they display their regiment names, regiment slogans and their excellent attitude. They do all this when they live away from friends and family for extended periods of time. Such dedication and selflessness can only come from someone special.

For some reason, I always thought of the Himalayas as a solid, igneous presence, replete with gneiss and basalt. But it’s a folded mountain – which means, it has plenty of sedimentary rocks. Which makes it seem – fragile. Landslides and falling rocks are common.

Travelers to Darjeeling and beyond would encounter the BRO – Border Roads Organization. Laborers of BRO are perpetually at work, repairing the roads rendered useless by landslides, clearing boulders from the roads etc. Such never-ending tasks are called “Avudayar Kovil Thiruppani” in Tamil Nadu. One does not know why the “Holy Restoration of the Avudayar Temple” is forever in progress, but legend has it that it is due to a curse from an irate God. Perhaps the self-same God cursed Sikkim too, in a fit of rage – “Thine roads shall forever be incomplete”.

At Lachung, our first step was the Shingba Rhododendron sanctuary. “Don’t touch the plants, madam”, our driver cautioned us. “Some of them are poisonous”. Some species of rhododendrons have a toxin (Grayanotoxin) that can cause paralysis and sometimes, hallucinations. “Oh, look at the colors of the flowers”, I exclaimed. “Yes Madam, there are 5 or 6 colors”, said the driver. I refrained from saying that I could spot at least 10 colors. Men are the same everywhere: their pathetic perception of colors should be pitied, not made fun of.

Yumthang Valley was our next stop. The valley is nice, but the small shacks around sort of ruin its beauty. We saw a bunch of people around a large transparent ball. “It’s a sport called Zurming” explained a man – the man in charge of the ball was our guess. “You just get inside the ball and try to move it”, he added helpfully. “Do you want to zurm, sir?” he asked. Perhaps he thought Madam was too much of a chicken to go zurming in a rubber ball. Sir was dying to zurm, but it was getting late to get to the next stop, Lachung’s star attraction – Zero Point.

“Zero Point” is so named because all roads end here. It is at a height of 15,500 feet. It is a favorite stop for Indians who want to play in the snow. Our daughter had great fun making what she called the “King’s house” and a smaller “Soldier’s house”. I wondered how a king could live in a pintsized house with his missus, sans heating and lighting in the Himalayas.

Mist was closing in on the mountains. Visibility was reducing by the minute, so we had to drag our reluctant kid back to the hotel.

There were no restaurants in Yumthang. We were forced to eat our national food – Maggi noodles – in a shack. The place was far from clean; and hygiene – forget it.  We were very aggrieved –  the roads were too bad, the toilets too dirty, the weather too cold…How can we exist in such inhuman conditions?

Just then, we saw a bunch of Norwegian tourists on their way for a 5-day camping trip way up in the mountains – AKA supremely inhuman conditions. We asked them “Why would you want to do that?” To study the exotic flowers came the answer. Flowers, my foot. Norwegians  have a masochistic streak, trust me.

That night was one of the hardest as both of us were hit by severe altitude sickness. Luckily, our daughter slept like a baby. In our headache induced stupor we wondered if we should go right back to Chennai. At 6 AM, bleary eyed from lack of sleep, we looked out the window – only to catch a glimpse of the sublime, grim, aloof and magnificent Himalayas, flaunting its bodacity. And we asked ourselves – “How can we think of leaving this place?”

Click here to read Part 7.

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Sikkim Travelog – Part 5

The Hotel Manager at Lachen turned out to be a very articulate young man. He was a social sciences teacher at the local school and he was simply helping his cousin run the hotel. “My cousin’s busy campaigning for the upcoming Assembly elections” he said. Eh, what?

“So does your cousin belong to SDF (Sikkim’s CM Pawan Chamling’s party)?” we asked. “Of course not!” he said. “Chamling has been in power for 4 terms now. We need Paribartan (Change)”. He went on to explain that the Chamling government has run up a huge debt that can only be cleared by raising taxes on the Sikkimese.

Apparently, mismanagement is not Chamling’s only fault. Chamling has 2 known wives and 5 children. The Assembly frames policies to favor the first family. For example, chicken from Siliguri is banned in Sikkim – incidentally, one of Chamling’s wives runs a poultry farm. Another wife has huge swaths of land dedicated to organic farming – Chamling’s government is busy promoting Organic Farming. Likewise, one of Chamling’s sons has a stranglehold on the restaurant business in Gangtok.

It all sounded uncannily familiar to us. “Yes” said the manager. “Chamling is Sikkim’s own Karunanidhi”. “So, will the people vote his party out?” we asked. “Ah, that will be difficult because the elections are rigged. How else could SDF win all the seats in the last elections?” asked the manager.

We proceeded to the Tsopta valley. Gurudongmar Lake is off limits for foreign nationals.  The starkly beautiful lake is one of the main sources that feed the Teesta River. But since it is at an altitude of 17,000 feet, we decided not to expose our daughter to the harsh terrain.

We stopped at a roadside tea stall. A bio-break was out of the question. The public toilets were disgusting, like everywhere else in India. “A Marathi family came to Sikkim last year”, our guide said. “They brought a cook along, they couldn’t live without Marathi food”. I would instead recommend bringing a toilet along – a port-a-potty. We’re such finicky eaters, but we don’t mind vomit-worthy toilets. We burst with pride when we dream of our country becoming a super-power. But, we can’t even keep the place we pee clean. I wonder what that says about our nation’s standards in personal hygiene.

Just then, we saw a bunch of cars on their way back to Lachen. One of the men said “Don’t go any further, just turn back to Lachen. My wife fainted”. According to our research the Valley is safe for children but the Lake isn’t. Wanting to know more, we asked him if he went to the valley or the lake. The man shrugged – he didn’t believe in such petty details. He said, “There’s less than 3% oxygen. The Indian army revived my wife with glucose. It is that bad out there”.

When we decided to proceed, we heard the man telling his wife “They have a small child and they are going ahead”. The family, aghast, glared at us as if wishing to give us the “Worst Parents of the Year” award.

“I don’t know why you have to go. There’s nothing there but a lake!” said the man sulkily. I don’t know what he was expecting from a place named Gurudongmar “Lake”.

After all those dire predictions, we reached Tsopta Valley without anyone passing out. It is hard to describe the valley – it was a grim terrain, almost alien in appearance. The unique other-worldly landscape of Cappadoccia came to our mind.

We moved onto Lachung, our next stop. “You couldn’t have come here last year madam. There was a major earthquake”, said the driver. “This is the village of Bitchu”, he said and swept his arm. “Where’s the village?” we asked him. “There’s nothing but rocks and pebbles here”. “The village was completely destroyed by the earthquake, wasn’t it?” asked the driver and added “Oh, we are very close to your hotel now!”

We weren’t exactly comforted by this news. Visions of me looking for my family in the rubble haunted me. I slept fitfully that night. I woke up screaming “Tremors! Tremors! Call the military!” It turned out to be Sukumar snoring his way to glory.

Want to know what we did in Lachung, other than snore and scream? Click here.

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Sikkim Travelog – Part 4

MG Marg in Gangtok is a pedestrian-only shopping street. Our guide told us that it was the brainchild of Sikkim’s Chief Minister Pawan Chamling. It is said that he was inspired by his visit to Switzerland. There were widespread protests by the shopkeepers on MG Marg against the pedestrian-only concept. But the CM went right ahead with the idea – it is quite popular now, proving Chamling right.

After reading that, if you expect a row of ultra posh shops, roadside bistros and swank cafes, we’re not responsible. We liked the traffic-free shopping experience, that’s all. As we remarked earlier, Sikkim doesn’t look prosperous.

Lachen is a main stopover for tourists wishing to see the Tsopta Valley and the Gurudongmar Lake. Gangtok to Lachen is a bone crushing 6.5-hour journey. If I remain sane, I would never ever   repeat this drive. It just needs too much  bestial endurance. Of course, the drive itself was very scenic – surrounded on all sides by the Himalayas, lush evergreen forests and gushing waterfalls.

The Teesta River thundered below us. What does the river remind you of? – I asked Sukumar. “Setalvad” he said promptly. I was  thinking of another woman, I told him – Mamtadi – thanks to the Teesta river water dispute with Bangladesh.  I find rivers extremely tiresome. They lead to too much bickering, since nobody wants to share them with their neighbors. If it was up to me, I will simply ban all the rivers in India and be done with it.

The drive to Lachen – and indeed pretty much to any destination in Sikkim – is very treacherous. The roads are slushy and a single mistake could mean a precipitous fall down the Himalayas. Drivers from other Indian states shouldn’t even attempt to drive on these roads, unless they are in a tearing hurry to meet their maker.

“Mobile phones won’t work in Lachen, madam,” said our driver. “There won’t be any coverage”. “As long as there is the good old Internet, we’ll be fine”, we said. “Internet?” he said incredulously. “Why, there’s not even TV coverage”. “What?” I shrieked. “No mobile, no Internet and no TV? What do these people do with their spare time?” “Gardening, madam?” the driver suggested tentatively.

I felt peeved. “How do they even catch the news, or watch cricket?” I asked the driver. He shrugged as if cricket was of no consequence. We were outraged – a place that doesn’t care about cricket, that too in the subcontinent! That’s when our driver proudly flashed his Manchester United wristband at us and asked, “Did you know Baichung Bhutia is Sikkimese?” Eek! Football! Even unity in diversity has its limits.

When we reached our hotel in Lachen – not only was there no mobile network coverage (the much maligned BSNL had coverage though) and no internet – there wasn’t any power either. The room heater was purely for decoration. They gave us hot water bottles to help us withstand the cold. The lifesaver was the excellent home-style dinner served at the hotel. “Wonderful pickles!” we exclaimed. “Are they made in Sikkim?” The waiter courteously replied “No, madam. They’re from India”.

After dinner, the hotel manager let us watch TV in his office – the only TV in the hotel. An episode of “Mighty Raju”, a cartoon strip loved by 5-year olds and loathed by parents, brought a smile to our daughter’s face.

Morning brought a fresh set of difficulties. There was no hot water. Our teeth chattered, our blood froze and our fingertips were cold as we brushed our teeth and got through the rest of the early morning routine. We wondered what madness possessed us to come to this godforsaken hole.

Just then the sun came out bright and shining, ushering in a glorious Alpine morning. We gasped: the mighty Himalayas was all around us; its snow capped peaks clearly visible, wearing wispy clouds around their necks. It was worth it, we murmured, awestruck.   An obscene amount of beauty was here, there, everywhere around us.

How do we describe the myriad waterfalls, the jagged snowcapped mountains, the pebble strewn riverbeds, mountainsides festooned by ferns, the pine scented air, the beautiful flowers and the absolute silence broken only by Mother Nature in the form of bird calls and the roar of the many streams.

If such a sight can’t move you, nothing will.

Okey-dokey, here’s the 5^th part of this series.

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Sikkim Travelog – Part 3

We had high hopes of seeing many Himalayan birds in Sikkim. But the most common were pigeons, crows, mynahs and drongos. There were several small birds in brown hues but they flew off before your lazy authors could observe, leave alone photograph them.

The 2 birds that were gracious enough to preen themselves before us were a rust colored bird with black wings and a white streak in the back, which we’re yet to identify. And a medium-sized black bird with an amber beak that our driver said was the “Kalchuda”. “What’s its English name?” I asked him. He stared at the road assiduously and said “Its Kalchuda in English too”. Liar, liar, pants on fire. Thanks to Google, we identified the black bird as – the anti-climactically named “Blackbird”. Eurasian Blackbird.

Sadly for us, no one in Sikkim seems to know how to make good coffee. So we experienced severe caffeine withdrawal symptoms. A true South Indian can forgo oxygen, food and water – but not Kaapi. Even Coffee Day in Gangtok served us a mediocre cappuccino. What we need is a caffeine patch like the nicotine patch, we told ourselves, as we sadly sipped the hot brown toilet water that passed for coffee.

The Enchey Gompa is one of the most beautiful monasteries in Sikkim. It belongs to the “Nyingmapa” Sect of Tibetan Buddhism – aka the “Red Hat” Sect. Guru Padma Sambhava – hailing from the Swat Valley in present day Afghanistan – is credited with introducing Tantric Buddhism to Tibet.

In the previous post, we had mentioned the “Kagyupa” or the “Black Hat” sect of Buddhism. The Dalai Lama belongs to the “Gelugpa” or the “Yellow Hat” sect. We wondered where the “Chalupa” figured in this scheme of things. There’s also an “Orange Hat” sect – Sakhya.

In the Gompa, an idol of Guru Padma Sambhava is depicted, holding a Dorje (thunderbolt) in one hand and a Trishul (Trident) in the other. With wild staring eyes, 2 shrunken heads and a skull pierced in his Trishul, Padma Sambhava is one scary looking god. The Gompa has many murals – among them, the 8 manifestations of Padma Sambhava. “Manifestations aren’t Avatars”, our guide said. Among the manifestations is “Yab Yum” – what our guide called the “Embarrassing pose”.

“Yab Yum” is literally, “Father – Mother”. Its also known as the “Creation pose”, where the male deity is in a lotus position, with the female deity straddling him – signifying union or copulation. It is an important symbol of Tantric Buddhism and we found it repeated in many monasteries. We think it’s essentially the same as the Hindu Shiva Lingam and the Chinese Yin-Yang.

The Namgyal institute of Tibetology is a much touted tourist attraction. In reality it is a museum with a puny collection of Buddhist sacred objects. But we have to say this – it is a clean museum, well documented and well curated. Some of the macabre items on display include a human skull cup (Kapali), a damaru made of human skull and a human thighbone (femur) flute. All these were used in Tantric rituals. The Kapali held bread and a red drink (ugh) – we found the resemblance with the Christian Eucharist (Holy Communion) striking.

The institute also has a good collection of Thangka painting that Sikkim is famous for. A Thangka is a silk scroll, with Buddhist deities, Mandalas, Bodhisattvas or religious myths. These were used as icons for worship, learning and meditation.

“You have to take the Cable Car”, said the guide. “You get wonderful city views and it is not a long ride”. “Table car, I want to go on the Table car”, chanted our daughter. It was settled then. It was raining when we reached the cable car station. Perhaps you don’t know how yellow-bellied I am, but I can’t handle standing in a car held precariously by a hook that slides on a rope. So I waited while Sukumar and our daughter took the ride.

“Bada Boom!” a lightning struck and the whole city went dark. Few minutes later, I got a frantic call. “When the power went off, the cable car stopped at Deorali. Can you bring the driver and pick us up?” asked Sukumar. I picked them up and said smugly: “See, this is why I never take table cars”.

Next up – our trip to Lachen. Click here to read about it.

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Sikkim Travelog – Part 2

Getting Sikkimese food in Sikkim is very, very hard. We found it strange that the highly recommended “Tangerine” restaurant in Gangtok wanted 3 days notice to cook Sikkimese food. There are many mid range restaurants serving meat-based Tibetan food. But, finding a decent restaurant that served a vegetarian meal was as hard as the search for the Holy Grail. Our guide finally escorted us to a hole-in-the-wall type dingy place. We entered with plenty of misgivings. But at last, we got to eat authentic home-style Sikkimese food.

We were very curious about “Gundruk” – a signature dish of the Himalayan region. It is made out of fermented leafy vegetables. Gundruk Soup is mildly tangy and is definitely an acquired taste. We also tried the “Kinema curry” made of fermented soy beans. The best part of the meal was “Silam Ko Achar” a powder prepared from Silam seeds, an unusual culinary ingredient. It tasted almost like South Indian Paruppu Podi. We also liked the Rayo Sag (Mustard Greens) curry and the Aloo Baingan curry. Both were delicately spiced. All this was served with piping hot white rice.

Unfortunately, we didn’t get a chance to sample “Sel roti” an unusual donut shaped bread, that Sikkim is famous for. Whenever we asked for Sel Roti or Kodo ko Roti, the waiter barked out a staccato “No!” as if we had asked for something indecent, like a lap dance.

Most tourists to Sikkim do 2 things – ogling the scenery slack-jawed; and going on the monastery loop. We visited the Rumtek Gompa (monastery) and the Enchey Gompa. Both belong to different sects of Tibetan Buddhism.

The Rumtek Gompa is one of the most sacred sites in Sikkim. It is the spiritual seat of the “Kagyupa” or the Black Hat sect led by a Karmapa. The 16th Karmapa, who is no more, was a great soul much revered by Buddhists everywhere.  And the 17^th Karmapa – We’re not sure, since there are at least 3 different claimants to the title of the 17th Karmapa. 1 of them lives in Dharamshala, under the tutelage of the Dalai Lama.

The Rumtek monastery has 4 guardian angels – among them a Celestial Musician and Kubera. Once inside the monastery, we could see 108 niches on both sides of the Buddha idol, where Tantric Buddhist texts were stored. These are taken out once every year and read end to end in 3 days.

The “Mahakala” is an important deity in Tantric Buddhism. Seen as either a manifestation of Shiva or Avalokiteshwara, Mahakala is a protector of Dharma. 3 such idols are taken out on a procession during the annual Mahakala festival (which we missed). During the festival, monks don masks and do the “Chaam” dance.

“Is there anyway we can see the Chaam dance, while we’re here?” we asked. “I can’t very well ask the monks to dance to your tunes, can I?” came the reply. The only way to see the dancing monks is to visit Sikkim in November/December. But, we like our bums warm, not frozen, so we chose to travel in April. Did we tell you Sikkim’s a very cold place? Its bound to be, you know: It is on the Himalayas.

The Rumtek monastery also has a Golden Stupa, which houses the reliquary of the 16^th Karmapa. The jewel encrusted gold reliquary is estimated to be $1.2Billion. Earlier, one could circum-ambulate the reliquary. But, now it is protected by glass because some tourists tried to pluck the mini muffin-sized rubies, emeralds and sapphires. Maybe they just wanted to take a closer look.

We saw a photograph of the 16^th Karmapa wearing the ceremonial Black Hat. Legend has it that the Black Hat is made from the hair of angels – so it has a propensity to fly back to the heavens if not held tightly by the wearer. We’re not making this up: in the photograph, the 16th Karmapa was clutching the hat with one hand.

If you want to read the next post in this series – you know the drill. Click here.