By Jaideep Mazumdar
Into Enchanted Territory
Past lush forests and verdant hills, with the Teesta snaking its way many hundred feet below, the drive to Sikkim is always a memorable experience. And entering the state through the welcome gateway at Rangpo is akin to stepping into another country. A smiling police constable peers into our SUV and politely enquires about the purpose of our visit before waving us through, but not before apologising for the enquiry and welcoming us into his state. After that, the drive uphill acquires a greater degree of pleasure, and not the least because instead of ugly structures that dot the highways to all hill stations in India, the structures along the road to Gangtok blend perfectly with the hills. Rangpo, halfway between Siliguri and Gangtok, offers a variety of eateries serving everything ranging from puri-sabzi to momos and thupkas. We, obviously, chose one offering the latter, but were a trifle disappointed to learn that no restaurant there offers pork momos. For that, we’ll have to wait for Gangtok.
Sounds of Tibet
The driver of our SUV, a young man called Kelsang, had started playing Bollywood hits as soon as we left Siliguri. We wanted something soothing, something that wouldn’t strike a jarring note in this lap of nature. He smiled (all Sikkimese smile all the time) and complied. The most wonderful, mystical and delicate music flowed out of the Sony speakers. It was by Nawang Khechog, a flutist who has won global acclaim. Born in Tibet, Nawang, who belonged to a family of nomads, spent his early years in Tibet where he learned to play the traditional bamboo flute. When China invaded Tibet in 1949, his family escaped to India, where Nawang studied meditation and Buddhist philosophy for eleven years. He migrated to Australia in 1986 where he gave his first performance. Nawang is best known for his collaborations with Kitaro, including that on Kitaro’s Grammy-nominated Enchanted Evening and Mandala albums. His best selling album, Rhythms of Peace, creates evocative, textured meditations that takes one to the serene and vast Himalayas and lulls the listener in an extraordinary tranquility that seems to emanate from the highlands of Tibet. An ardent follower of the Dalai Lama, Nawang’s quest is to use his music to highlight the cause of Tibet.
More than just a Hotel
Hotel Tibet is more than just an upscale lodge in Gangtok. Run by the Dalai Lama’s Tibetan government-in-exile, staying there amounts to making a political statement. Manned by extremely courteous staff, the hotel’s snug rooms offer a breathtaking view of the Himalayas. Books on Tibet, including those authored by the Dalai Lama, are sold there. A corner of the hotel’s well-appointed lobby doubles as a curio shop for Tibetan and Buddhist knick-knacks; and unlike similar shops around town, prices here are reasonable, with a handsome discount thrown in for good measure. But the hotel’s USP is its restaurant — the ‘Snow Lion’. Apart from the usual Chinese, continental and Indian fare, it offers mouth-watering Tibetan dishes. We tried out a few–chicken chetse-detse (minced chicken, mushrooms and vegetables with flat noodles), pork Gyathuk (noodles with chopped pork cooked with butter from yak’s milk) and chicken sha-bhaklep (minced chicken between two layers of small puris) — and couldn’t help heaping compliments on Arjun Chettri, the chef who’s been with the hotel for 18 years now. The hotel’s deputy general manager, Phurbu Tsering Bhutia, an affable and helpful man, promised to treat us to Gyakho, a Tibetan royal dish made of vegetables, tofu, sea weeds, sea cucumber and exotic herbs that takes three days to cook. Mmmm….
Cleanest City
Gangtok, the capital city of Sikkim, is unique.
Steeped in Buddhist culture and traditions, denizens of this hill station are not only cheerful, courteous and considerate, but take obvious pride in keeping their city squeaky clean. Traffic on the streets are disciplined as in no other city or town in India. People never fail to smile and even the traffic cops go out of their way to offer assistance. One, manning an important intersection, summoned a colleague over his walkie-talkie to escort me to a cyber café I was searching for. Plastic is banned and so is that disgusting Indian habit of spitting. I bought some traditional Tibetan incense sticks from a shop on M.G.Road (yes, even Gangtok has one, like every other Indian urban centre) and asked for a platic packet to take carry them in. The shop-owner, an old Bhutia lady, delivered a pleasant sermon on the ill-effects of plastic before packing the merchandise in a handmade paper bag. Out of the shop, I looked around and noticed not a single soul carrying a plastic bag. Wish the rest of our countrymen were as conscious. The Sikkimese are also avid conservationists — proof of that lies in the greenery that envelopes the city and in the pleasing constructions that maintain harmony with nature. Gangtok, which means ‘hilltop’, is more than just a hill station — it is truly an experience that needs to be savoured. One of the best ways of doing so is to take a long, leisurely walk around the place.
Zero Crime
Well, nearly so. The last murder in Gangtok occurred a couple of years ago, that too after a gap of many years. And both the victim and the perpetrator of the crime, which hogged headlines of local newspapers for a few weeks in a row, were plainsmen. We’re told that no cases of rape and molestation ever occur in Sikkim. The only violations of the law that do occur are thefts of cattle and poultry and minor burglaries. And that too in the rural areas. That leaves the state’s police force with little work to do. No wonder, then, that the cops from the constable to the police chief find time to remain fit and trim. And smartly attired, too. What a far cry from even neighbouring West Bengal.
Passage to China
Nathu La, scene of fierce clashes between Indian and Chinese soldiers in 1967, reopened to trade after 44 long years on July 6. For the past few years, this has been a major tourist attraction, with wide-eyed Indians from the plains staring at, smiling, shaking hands and being photographed with Chinese soldiers. A waist-high barbed wire is the only physical barrier between the two countries are 14,545 feet. The Chinese occupy the high ground here, ground that they surreptitiously pushed the Indians away from in 1967. That surreptitiousness is in evidence even now — beneath the mask of friendliness, the Chinese soldier who comes forward to shake hands with the unsuspecting Indian tourist could even have a selfish mission. As a fellow-scribe discovered, thanks to a vigilant Indian soldier. Exchanging currency notes, though illegal, is a common practice between the Chinese soldiers and Indian visitors. My friend was offered a Chinese note and lulled into parting with a crisp Rs 100 note in exchange, till our soldier saw the exchange and shouted at my friend, saying that the Chinese note was fake. Without a moment’s hesitation, the Chinese soldier snatched back his note, returned the Rs 100 note, and dashed away to his post! Why is it that Indians, staring from Nehru, always manage to get beguiled by the Chinese?
What’s in a Name?
Sikkim holds different meanings for different people who inhabit the fascinating state. To the Limbus, who settled here from Nepal, Sikkim translates into ‘New house’. The Bhutias call the land ‘Denzong’ (valley of rice) while the Lepchas call it ‘Neliang’ or ‘country of cavers’.To some other tribes from Tibet, Sikkim stands for ‘Nyemael’ or paradise, which it truly is. And behind these different meanings lie Sikkim’s true character — an inclusive, tolerant state whose ethos may be Buddhism, but which welcomes all with an open heart and warm hug. As long as the visitors stick to the rules by maintaining harmony with nature. But then, in Sikkim, it is hard not to be one with nature.
