Darjeeling has always defied a definition or an explanation. It has been at the crossroads of history. A place coveted by the British, wrested from the Sikkimese Raja and till today in search of an independent identity.
Fortune hunters, missionaries, tea planters, kings, princes, mystics have charmed by these hills. The majestic Kanchendzonga has been an inspiration for artists, movie directors, holy men and commoners alike. From humble beginnings, Darjeeling has metamorphosised into a hill station with all the modern facilities trapped in an ancient body.
The beauty of our hills is only revealed to a patient pilgrim. Too many opinions have been passed by travellers who have barely sojourned the Himalayas for two days! Many have tried too hard to sell too much in a short span of time – Tiger Hill, tea gardens, monasteries, river rafting, trekking, camping- all rolled into a neat package deal.
Our charm is more subtle. It lies in wait for the weary soul, the restless spirit and the tired mind. The magical brew- Darjeeling tea is to be sipped with friendly company. The road less travelled winds through our forests. A trip to these mystical mountains is like promises kept – promises to meet again.
Away from the urban jungle and chaos lies our true Darjeeling. The sprawling tea gardens - colonial ingenuity and the hapless local workforce. The small hamlets dot the countryside, agriculture being the mainstay for generations. The sons of the soil have served our country by defending our borders- their valour a testament for Bravery.
Rivers and streams wind their way from snowy glaciers and rush headlong to meet the mighty ocean. Along the way, they provide us with sweet water and for the lonely angler, a war of the wills with the river fish. Of course, the tranquility of sitting next to a murmuring stream minus the traffic horns and the smog is the first step to nirvana.
The charm of Darjeeling lies in the people. Very affable and friendly, they make you feel at home- sharing smiles and laughter. Never hesitate to ask to for directions for you will make new friends who will share your predicament and help you to your destination.
Spirituality strengthens the bond of different communities across the hills. Temples, monasteries, mosques and churches are revered by all. But the Almighty resides in caves, hillocks, roadside rock temples and in the colourful prayers flags that flutter from the trees. No prayer is forgotten and blessings are shared and enjoyed. Each festival is celebrated with gusto - Losar, Dasai, Christmas and other festivals are eagerly anticipated by one and all.
As one journeys through the mists, legends and fables captivate the listener. Local myths abound- of pale lights that flicker at night by the riverside, the footsteps that follow the late returner at night. Such tales told by the fireside add lustre to the rich folklore of our hills.
Darjeeling, our abode, our enigma and an enduring legacy. These few lines captures the essence of the spirit of the hills:
Freedom of the Hills - Douglas Fraser 1968
Mine is the freedom of the tranquil hills When vagrant breezes bend the sinewy grass, While sunshine on the widespread landscape spills And light as down the fleet cloud-shadowed pass.
Mine, still, that freedom when the storm-clouds race, Cracking their whips against defiant crags And mists swirl boiling up from inky space To vanish on the instant, torn to rags.
When winter grips the mountains in a vice, Silently stifling with its pall of snow, Checking the streams, draping the rocks in ice, Still to their mantled summits I would go.
Sun-drenched, I sense the message they impart; Storm-lashed, I hear it sing through every vein; Among the snows it whispers to my heart “Here is your freedom. Taste - and come again.”
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