Having scaled a whopping 19,620 feet at the age of 13, I have always connected sooner to mountains than seas.
So, picking neighbouring Chatakpur as the summer destination was unusual but not stumping to those who know me well. Calcutta to NJP did prove much easier a passage than what the latter half of it clearly was. The Royal Cruiser carrier we boarded at Esplanade took about twelve hours to reach Tenzing Norgay Bus Terminus in Siliguri. We changed there to a burly Sumo that ferried us farther up through hilly bents and rough terrains to our final destination, Chatakpur. Steepness of the route had our vehicle mostly wobble on second gear for an arduous three hours, making the drive easily parallel a bouncy bullock-cart ride. A resolute love of the unknown, however, kept us rising. From the midst of a thick blanket of conical pines soon appeared two crimson bunglows the natives lovingly call Eco-Huts – founded by the forest department in collaboration with the village cooperative. We were finally at our journey’s end. Or, Elysium, to say the least.
Chatakpur is a quaint village that lies within a lesser-known Senchal Wildlife Sanctuary in the Darjeeling district of West Bengal. Words about it had first come to me through a close acquaintance who soon turned far closer after the fascinating trip. Hemmed in by the gaping gorge Relly Khola in the South and an elusive Kachenjunga range in the North, Chatakpur is about 75 KMs from Bagdogra or NJP and 25 KMs from Darjeeling. Perched atop an altitude of 7,887 feet, it offers a spectacular view of an imposing Kanchenjunga, besides a stay in a lush forest amidst a pristine yet sparse settlement of 90 people spread across 18 households. The Forest Department should be thanked in earnest for transforming this timber-rich patch into an eco-tourism hub that extensively uses the services of the local villagers to sustain.
Hailing straight from the plains in summer, we took hours to get even with the plummeting temperature. And realised how unusually friendly a mug of Colombian brew can be in the mountains. A breezy trek away from the cottages was a watch-tower modelled after a pagoda with curved eaves that overlooks Sandakphu, the trekkers’ paradise, at a distance. A stepped ridge leading up to the stairs to the raised tower offered an indelible view of the valley sparsely covered in woolly cirrus capping of unsmiling nimbus clouds. But none could beat what hailed us the next day at the crack of dawn. I opened my door to the incredible view of a massif of sunlit peaks glimmering on the horizon with a majestic Kanchenjunga boldly rearing in the middle. Almost like a bulky granny sitting erect to tell stories to a stupefied lot of grandchildren. Or, a frozen tsunami with a sparkling surf about to break upon the earth-crust. A moment, nay, an epiphany, that instantly called to mind the end of Ray’s ‘Kanchenjungha’, where the dull mist lifts putting all the milling confusions to rest forever, and revealing the sunlit peak to a golden glory. But an ambitious Indranath, the rich man, is found too brooding to admire it. Thus, we finally woke up to what renders the dawns at Chatakpur so eternally unique.
Random walks in and around the village over the days allowed glimpses of the hardship of the hill-people, often betraying sights of extremes. While on one hand I found a girl too loath to dress for school that makes her trudge a few miles downhill, a wizened octogenarian greeted with a disarming smile on the other, who routinely climbs uphill to collect fallen twigs as tinder. Mountains and lives in it thus remained an abiding reminder of our existential smallness in the face of nature.
Hardly a hundred steps away from the cottages starts the lush woods. We coaxed a local lad to guide us through the rough trails who gladly obliged for barely anything in return. Unending stretches of Pine trees along slopes and a brown, sinuous course strewn with pebbles snaking through them for countless miles made a perfect escape from the dullness of life; or, a fitting ruse to disappear in the wilderness. You may also find Toto the dog that accompanied Dorothy to Oz, as mate along the trek like we did. Just pack a torch, a Swiss-knife, some grub and water. And let the tweets of the birds and the caressing wind be your companions all the way. A good 10×25 binocular may come in handy in spotting Prinia, Long tail Shrike, Verditer, Flycatcher, Pipit and Blue Magpie. Or, a bigcat. Even a Red Panda if you really strike it lucky. One of the trails we trekked led to Pokhri – a shallow pond with an upright obelisk in the middle, that the locals hold in high regard. The Salamanders dotting the water’s edge were too shy to show up. After everything, it was the unending stream of coffee [I carried my brew] that made us brave the fitful cold of Chatakpur. By the end of the third day I had already blended into a larger family that manages the place with an exemplary belongingness. The elders of the village were as keen to share with us the gems from the past as were the youngsters who would do anything to hear more about the lore of city-life. Thus, our trip unhurriedly drew to a rewarding close.
In hindsight, Chatakpur seemed to pack aplenty what a city-life largely goes without – peace, that too with a generous dash of adventure. So, those that find more sense in love than war are bound to take delight without doubt in this hidden gem of Bengal. Harnessing that thought I again returned to the plains. From where I can always rise. To Chatakpur, and beyond.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A Chartered Accountant by profession, Abhik travels extensively to experience diverse cultures and cuisines for both fun and work. After an 18-year stint as executive in global behemoths he decided to devote himself to pursuing things he loves most, namely reading, writing and Photography. A gourmet who can’t cook, Abhik is an unwavering champion of Bengal’s household cuisines, and hopes that someday they will find their rightful place on Global culinary map. Abhik loves to keep wondering.