mrsjono

10.30pm Singapore time set up my middle berth and prepared to sleep. It's been years since I slept in a middle berth of a three tier bunk. I almost let my guard down with regard to the position of my bags. An elderly lady in pink sari was on the opposite middle berth. She saw me shift my bags to a more secure position against the wall and started speaking to me in Hindi. I figured she should be saying be careful of your belongings. We're on our way to Agra. Our journey is ending soon. While I'm feeling really glad we've finally left Varanasi and Fish&Co is drawing near, I know eventually I'll miss my time in India. I'm already starting to miss the snow-capped Kangchenjunga, starry skies, momos and hot lemon honey ginger tea...

*Udar met Ying at Yogi few years ago. It was low season and there weren't many guests in the lodge. Ying came with a friend and she was not feeling well. Udar helped take care of her and cooked fried rice for her. When it was time for her to go back to China, she promised she'll visit again. A year later, Ying returned as promised and they went to Nepal together. Udar showed us their Kathmandu photos enthusiastically. He must have looked through the album a million times as he could remember what's the next photo. They parted again and remained in contact via text messages and phone calls. Until recently...

"She told me she is in hospital. But she don't say what happen. I'm very worried. I cannot sleep. I cannot focus at work. When she finally pick up my call she doesn't sound like she is in hospital. Why she lie to me? I will continue message and message until she respond. But most of the time she only reply one word after I send 100 messages. I sent so many these few days, no reply. I just called this morning, phone turned off. I going crazy! I really don't know what she wants. If she doesn't want to continue anymore, why don't she just tell me?" Udar was distraught.

"Are you sure?" I looked at Udar carefully.

He sighed. "Ok don't say that. Just ask her what she wants."

I transferred Udar's SIM card into my phone and we started translating to Chinese.

你怎么了? 怎么关机这么久? 我发了这么多简讯怎么你一点回应都没有? 我非常珍惜我们之间的感情但是你总是不理不睬 我知道你很爱你父亲和家人 那我呢? 你到底还爱我吗?

Arranged marriages are still common in India but Udar is taking romance in his own hands. We have no idea how his relationship with Ying turned out to be and we wished him all the best before we left. For the small favour we did, we got a free boat ride, two chocolate bars, free wifi and huge discount for staying at Yogi ;)

*To protect the identity of the employee, his real name was not used.

I have never counted down the number of days to home and never looked so forward to going home. I miss my comfort zone. He sank into the seat opposite me and posed a sulking expression as I pointed my camera in his direction. We just had lunch after locating the real Shiva Guesthouse and the plan was to spend the rest of the day walking around town and along the river. But in less than an hour, we were back in Yogi. We’d rather stay indoors and stare at the walls than get out again. It was only just our first day here and we still have two more days??? Ugh...

Varanasi is the place Hindus would wish to die in. They believe spending their last days in Varanasi and being cremated along the Ganges River will free them from the cycle of birth, death and reincarnation. Everyday, approximately 150-250 open air cremations take place along the ghats of the Ganges River. It's a raw and fairly quick affair. He watched the entire process from a closer distance than I did. I was too disturbed with the smoke and ashes to move any closer to the cremation site. Dead bodies lie on bamboo stretchers, wrapped in white cloth like mummies. Some are covered in yellow-orange shimmering cloths with garlands of flowers all around. Untouchables lower the deceased into the holy river for his last bath. Family members decide what type of wood to use for the funeral pyre. They say their final farewells amid wails and tears. Nearby, another corpse was burning away. A charred leg was jutting out and a worker used a long bamboo pole to poke it back into the flames. That was the most horrifying image I have ever seen. Another dead body comes. It is the constant arrival of bodies brought to the burning grounds that makes death a numb and impersonal business. It's almost like disposing a piece of litter. Priest lights flame. Off you go to heaven. End of ceremony. Next one please. Death is real and it's inevitable. It's pervasive in Varanasi but it's a taboo subject in most other societies. It's not a bad idea to be exposed to death once in awhile for it is the best reminder to how we should live our present lives.

Sudhir Kumar (top right corner) is from Manipur. He's from the army and he's swimming to Andaman Nicobar. Kidding. He's on his way to Delhi to take a plane to the islands for military training. Rajdhani Express trains link Delhi with the regional capitals in India. We are not going to Delhi (yet) but alighting halfway. We decided to pay for the full fare just to get on this train to Varanasi on time. Clean linen and meals are included in the train fare. Morning tea, breakfast, lunch, evening tea, dinner, dessert and supper all served at your berth. Vegetarian and non-vegetarian options available. He had a great time munching every item in the tray. 11.30pm Singapore time eating prata and curry chicken at my berth, trying not to spill anything on myself again while everyone else around me were eating their meals on wheels effortlessly. 

2.30am Singapore time watching the clock constantly and looking out the window as there was no station broadcast and no one to ask as folks around us were asleep. I could hear snores and Hindi music on speaker phone down the aisle. The train was due to arrive at Mughal Serai station in half an hour's time. We alighted and made our way to Junction Station on auto rickshaw, squashed with 10 other sardine passengers plus a mountain of bags. As we passed the Ganges, we saw a passenger threw a coin into the river and prayed. It was a magical moment I could still remember, even a year later as I write this. It reinforced my brief understanding of Varanasi as a holy place that we were about to visit.

There were many cycle rickshaws waiting at Junction Station to pick up passengers to town. We didn't know the rate and didn't trust anybody so we walked. We freaking walked more than 4km for an hour, waking up some of the cows sleeping along the empty streets. The town was heavily guarded by security officers on duty throughout the night and we were lucky one officer led us through the maze to Yogi Lodge. By the time I washed up, it was 4am India time. Finally, I can knock out in peace. 

I was trying my best to stay still but it was no use. We were hurled around at the back of the jeep with nothing to hold onto. We could not even hold onto each other as our vomits were already in our throats and we were going to throw up any time. All the shaking was making me dizzy and I had to shut my eyes.

After what seemed like 45 mins, the jeep pulled up at a petrol kiosk. He trailed off to the bushes to attempt  to puke. I was still recovering from the awful ride when the driver approached me. "We put you in another jeep ok? You can sit in front." I couldn't believe what I just heard. I was suspicious with his 360 degree change in attitude after our confrontation with him before the journey started.

Sure enough another jeep came. It was relatively empty. There were only four passengers sitting in the first and second row. First driver explained the situation to the second driver and passed him some money. Our bags were transferred to the new jeep. Driver of the new jeep told two passengers sitting in the middle row to move to the back. We scrambled in, feeling apologetic, at the same time thankful and relieved.

"How are you? Better?" An Indian gentleman sitting in front turned around and asked.

"Much better. We were thrown around in a washing machine at the back of the jeep." I complained.

Laksmi gasped and narrated our predicament to the driver sitting beside him, quoting my "washing machine".

"Our seat numbers were 7 and 8. Supposed to be middle row." I explained. "We bought this ticket from a Nepalese chap with blue eyes from Let's Go. When the jeep came, it was full. We had to sit right at the back on a bench with no back support. It was not even facing forwards. We showed our ticket to the driver but he ignored us. We even tried to look for the chap who sold us the ticket but he wasn't around. When we refused to get back in, the driver called us names we couldn't understand. He mentioned "China", obviously he thought we were from China and we were not. We had a row with him. Everyone in the jeep was looking point-blankly at us, as though we were transparent. Nobody helped."

I guess we were destined to meet our foes. The pack in the jeep were the group of West Bengal tourists we met yesterday! It suddenly dawned on me that Khecheopalri  is really a sacred lake. They were late first and we took revenge by making them wait for an hour at the lake. The next day, a Hindu god up there decided to punish us by tossing us around at the back of the jeep. What goes around comes around. This was the day I truly believe karma exists.

We've been asking around for public transport to the lake but we were told there isn't any so we joined a half day tour with Simvo. It included three other sights and the lake was the last stop. We turned up punctually at 8.30am only to find ourselves wait 45 mins for 10 West Bengal tourists staying at Lower Pelling to finish their breakfast. We didn't eat anything and to make matters worse, a male chauvinist pig sitting in front was ordering the driver to stop for pictures along the way when there was nothing nice to photograph. I was totally pissed off.

Rimbi Falls and Rock Garden failed to lift my dampened spirits. Everyone went down to take a look except us. We sprang to life at the third stop, where we saw a rainbow appeared at the bottom of Khangchendzonga Waterfall.


The moment we got down at Khecheopalri, we made a beeline for the lake. I was more interested to find out if the view on the ridge was "staggering" as Footprint had claimed. It looked like it would take a while to climb up there. Heck, since they made us wait just now, tit for tat. We finished the lake quickly and returned to the carpark to begin our ascent. 


View of the lake three quarter way up. It does look like a footprint. I climbed as fast as I could, reaching the top in 15 mins.


There was a small village surrounded with colourful flags and beautiful views of the Himalayas. It was a delight to watch the little monks monkeying around and climbing trees without a care in the world. An angry granny showed them the cane but obviously it had no effect on the kids as they continued with their merrymaking. A pity we couldn't stay longer. We had to urge each other to leave as we had came up for a good 45 mins.

"What happened man?!" The male chauvinist pig shouted angrily in his Indian accent when we finally showed up at the carpark. I did not respond. "We saw a gompa!" He answered irrelevantly. No further questions from the pack. We scrambled into the back of the jeep, grinning to each other, satisfied with our short adventure on the ridge.

A lady descends from Pemayangtse Monastery in Pelling, India.

Footprint described Pemayangtse as "awe-inspiring" and "the highlight of Sikkim". My expectations were unfortunately and naturally raised and I know it's no good. If you know the rules, having expectations when you travel will only lead to disappointment.


It turned out to be a small and quiet monastery. There were many wall paintings and religious artworks but they were mere visual arts to the layman. There was nothing much to explore in the monastery grounds except watching the young monks who were also idling around and watching us.


On the way back to town, we saw people gathering near a gompa and were invited to join a ritual. Since we have no other plans for the rest of the day, we went without any hesitation.


Two months prior to our visit to India, a 6.9 magnitude earthquake hit Sikkim on 18 September 2011. We figured this ritual must be for the earthquake victims and they must be family members of the deceased from their grim expressions.


As soon as we arrived, we were served a plate of crackers, hot tea, dried beef and unidentifiable strips of either candy or intestines.


How about a bamboo of beer?


Don't tell anyone we're eating meat okay?


Folks around us noticed I didn't take any of their food or drink and offered me orange juice. It was their personal item, not served to any of the guests. I was deeply moved by their hospitality but politely declined.


I almost forgot I'm in India. As a landlocked state that borders Nepal, Bhutan and Tibet, majority of Sikkim residents look more like their neighbours than their Indian compatriots.


We hanged around till noon and decided to make a move as my stomach was growling.


I needed to go to the bathroom urgently and the young chap running Lotus Bakery kindly allowed me to use a bathroom located 50m away from the bakery. We bought some pastries from him and though they were cold and hard, we didn't mind since all proceeds go to deprived children of Sikkim.


Bimla whips up excellent momos. I asked her what does Mock Too mean and she brought out a big dumpling steamer. Enough said.


We spent the rest of the day checking out the school located above Mock Too. Lower primary kids playing during recess time, classrooms filled with pupils reciting after their teacher, a student walking along the long corridor and complicated equations on the blackboard in an upper secondary maths class made me feel quite nostalgic.


Teachers would sit outside and mark papers to take advantage of the natural lighting and the warmth from the sun. As we walked out of the hall into the parade square, we happened to meet the principal sitting outside, going through exam questions set by her teachers. We asked for her permission to look at the questions and the first question we saw was "What is sustainable development?" I was impressed their standard of education was on par with what we had went through in our days, having considered the fact that this school was located in a rather remote part of India. We also learnt that the medium of instruction is English and students spend the same total number of years as us from primary school to junior college. The bell rang and she excused herself for assembly. I watched the students put their hands together and prayed.


While walking around the school, I noticed they have painted their beliefs towards education in words on the building facade. There was one that reads "Education to be complete, must be humane. It must include not only the training of intellect, but also the refinement of the heart and discipline of the spirit." This one at the bottom of the window was unforgettable. I like the way it rhymes and how the fundamental purpose of education was effortlessly expressed in that few simple lines. This was an important reminder to how I should be guided in life, especially in an increasingly selfish and nonchalant society.

However, getting here first and standing right in front of the ticket window didn't guarantee us the front seats. Ticket man issued them to a mother and her two children. I don't know whether I should be angry at them for jumping the queue or feel ashamed for being petty. We let it go since she was travelling with kids.  


The road to Jorethang passes through tea estates. As the jeep winds its way down the dirt road, the driver would occasionally slow down to give locals a lift at the back of the jeep and drop off items (newspapers, food) to villagers living in the tea estates who returned the favor with oranges and he actually distributed the oranges to us passengers at the back. Tea workers taking a rest near a hairpin bend signalled the driver to slow down as there was oncoming traffic. Super impressed with the mutual help and support they lend to each other.


After crossing this long suspension bridge


is the border check post. Foreigners have to get their passports and Inner Line Permits stamped here. As expected, the officers took a longer time approving his permit as they scrutinised his visa on arrival.


5 mins later, the jeep pulled into a multi-storey car park in Jorethang. We quickly bought our tickets for the second half of the journey to Pelling (Rs 100 pp, depart 12.30pm) and 


filled our stomachs with vegetable biryani, egg masala and chips for just Rs 130 at Walk Inn. Cheap and delicious vegetarian meal!


I was tempted to buy an apple in this market full of vibrant colours.


Jorethang to Pelling was a more scenic journey.


The moment we got down the jeep, we were blown away when we saw how close we were to Kangchenjunga.


It wasn't fun climbing up and down Pelling with all your bags looking for accommodation. We ended up at Hotel Green Valley in Upper Pelling. Great view but dirty room. Clumps of hair on the floor. Heavy fleece blanket smelled like it has not been washed in ages. No bin in the room. We put up with it since hot shower was working.


We went up and down Pelling (again) looking for Alpine when it was just next to our hotel! It was next to a chicken slaughter house which gave us second thoughts about having our dinner here. I was starving and Nissin came in handy. While the chef was making vegetable pakora for us, I was watching his every move as if he was going to put poison into our food. Pakora turned out to be really tasty despite the unsettling lingering feeling. We realised we were too paranoid as we were perfectly fine throughout our stay in Pelling...

Darjeeling is blessed with stunning vistas of Kangchenjunga, the third highest mountain in the world. Don't miss the incredible viewpoint on Tiger Hill, where you will be able to see a breathtaking panorama of the Himalayas. Avoid the crowds, go after sunrise and you can have the entire view to yourself!


While a massive exodus of tourists leave around 4am to watch the sunrise at Tiger Hill, we slept till 8am, had English breakfast at 8.30am


and only departed for Tiger Hill at 9am.


Observation deck was empty


I was exhilarated to be able to see India's highest peak on such a clear day!


That little white peak on the left is none other than Everest, 225km away from Kangchenjunga.


They look alike don't they?


On the way to see the colourful prayer flags


we met this family enjoying a picnic at the foot of Tiger Hill. We tried to play with the toddler who never smiled after this photo.


As I watched them from a distance, I will always remember this moment to be of pure bliss and happiness.


Second stop was Ghoom Monastery but it was closed


Just in time to catch the slow mo toy train at Batasia Loop (last stop)


In memory of the brave Gorkha soldiers who have laid down their lives for the country in all wars and operations since independence


Today, the Gorkhas are still fighting for autonomy in Darjeeling. They even have their own flag, widely waved across Gorkhaland.


He requested to stop here for a last look before heading to the Rink Mall for lunch at


Penang Restaurant


While waiting for our food to come, we took turns to go to the toilet at Big Bazaar. I wolfed down the momos and they were the best momos I've ever tasted. The rest of the dishes thukpa and chilli chicken were good too.


Since we had time to spare, we decided to visit the Tibetan Refugee Self Help Center. Why do they have to slap P.R.C on the roof? Give them a break man.


Resting my sore legs before crawling to


Glenary's for dinner. Sizzler and tandoori didn't disappoint.


Popped by Frank Ross Cafe for some needed fibre - fresh orange juice


On our way back to Andy's, the lights went out and the whole town was plunged into complete darkness. While blackouts are common here, it was my first time walking in the dark with a torchlight. On our last night in Darjeeling, there was no light, no electricity and no water but it was exceptionally beautiful with the sky full of stars.