The peak of legends - part 2

The ojha's fame had preceded him. I knew of him long before we finally met. The first of many stories that I heard of him was about his remarkable knowledge of medicinal plants. Stung by some mysterious insect or infected by some disease of the limbs, a woman in a distant aking was in severe pain. She had been taken to a number of ojha's none of whom could make any difference. Her affected limb appeared to be rotting away, when she was brought to the Baghmara hospital. After a week of no improvement, she was taken out and straight to our ojha in Hansapal. He treated her and within a fortnight, she was back to normal. It was difficult to say how much truth lay in the story, but sometimes you couldn't help wondering if there really was some vishalya karani lying hidden in the mountains. Incidentally, there are various viewpoints about what the magic herb that Hanuman took back to revive Lakshman really was. Some believe it to be the humble neem (Azadirachta indica) and others that it is a fern Selaginella bryopteris (see story). In the Garo Hills, that plant is known by the local name samjanggi and is believed to be found on the Chutmang peak which itself is equated with the gandhamadan peak of the Ramayan.
Some months ago I had heard that the ojha was unwell and may not be able to walk again. Further enquiry revealed that a wild boar wounded by a hunters bullet had charged into the ojha who had been nearby. It had ripped out his right calf until it was hanging only by the skin. It would have probably killed him if he hadn't held onto its head for dear life. As a result, there were severe injuries to the hand too. Carried back from the jungle, he lay in bed for four months with herbs and leaves bandaged around his leg. He refused to go to a hospital and refused stitches. Nobody expected him to stand up even. Yet, eight months later, as we reached his house, we learnt that he was not at home. He had gone to the forest to collect vegetables and medicinal plants.
Nightfall. A bath in the cool water of the stream to wash the grime and the sweat away.
As we sit and gulp down the rice and a curry made of wild yam (results of the ojha's foraging) we make small talk and plan for the trip to Chutmang the next morning. I bring up my favourite topic - cryptozoology. Unlike other people who tell us stories of the wildman, the Yeti of the Garo hills, the mande burung, the ojha seems strangely reluctant to talk much about it. After a little persuasion from us, he admits that he has seen it. He points to his recently married daughter who is serving us and says she was just a child when they both saw it. It was a fleeting glimpse, but she was terrified and couldn't speak for a whole month. The ajaju, the orangutan lookalike he has never seen and it probably doesn't exist. You can sense the fear, respect and sincerity in his voice. He volunteers no further information. I know its time to stop although I'm bursting with inquisitiveness. Another day, I tell myself.
For now, I need rest if I have to climb that crazy peak the next morning.

The peak of legends - part 1

The Garo Hills is a mysterious and forbidding place. There is no dearth of myths, legends and 'spirits' here. Virtually every natural object has a story and most times these stories can scare the shit out of you. I'm just starting to discover the place and its amazing cultural and mythological richness in addition to discovering the amazing wildlife in the forests. One prominent landmark here in the South Garo Hills is the Chutmang peak (1032 m.a.s.l) inside the Balpakram National Park. This is one peak that is the subject of so many legends that it takes on an aura of its own and is no more just a small wrinkle in the earth.

It is also called Kylas (in obvious reference to the famous Mt. Kailas of
Hindu mythology in southwestern Tibet), maybe for the similarity in shape or the perpetuation of a legend by the local Garo's who are believed to have come from Tibet at some time in the past. Another legend relates the huge plateau within the national park (the 'Balpakram' from which the National Park gets its name) to the remnant of the mountain of medicinal herbs that the mythical Hanuman of Hindu legends carried back to save Lakshman's life. But my favourite story relates to the grandmother of Goera (the deity of strength who makes thunder and lightning). One night she decided she wanted to block the Simsang river and set off with a mountain which she uprooted from the place where the plateau stands now. But before she could reach her destination, a cock crowed. She panicked, thinking that morning was coming as was Goera's wrath if he discovered her deed. She left the mountain right where she was. That is where Chutmang stands.

The Garo people believe that after death, all spirits go to the Balpakram plateau. But before they can do that, they need to pass through the Chutmang peak. I figured it was appropriate enough for me. I still hadn't been to the Balpakram plateau, so maybe I should visit Chutmang first. Admittedly my interests were a bit different from all the spirits who preceded me. The peak, although located within the National Park, can be easily (well if you count a six hour uphill walk as easy) accessed from the Gongrot and Hansapal akings. Hansapal aking had long been on my priority visit list because of the amazingly rich community forests that still existed there. Our contact in Hansapal too, was a character. He was an ojha, a medicine man dealing with herbs and with the best stories on all the mythical creatures of the area !

Crossing the Simsang river on a dugout with Kamal and Ajay 'the elephant' Desai!

Excuses, excuses and.. promises

This was supposed to be easy. Leaving Delhi and coming to stay in Meghalaya in the Garo Hills was like moving from hell to heaven. Forests all around, lush green and inviting, rivers, elephants, rains, mosquitos and leeches! All the things that I loved. So how difficult could it be to write a couple of lines for my blog once in a while?

Apparently it was (not that I didn't contribute myself!). Here I present a list of excuses .. those of you who have been to northeast India, may find them familiar...
Electricity is a rare creature at most times of the year and 'fluctuates' between four hour powercuts per day to four day powercuts per week. When that happens there's not much you can do except to listen to the exceptionally elaborate orchestral melodies performed by an army of mosquitos.

The internet. Its amazing how we have taken to a 'broadband' connection and its associated perks in the cities. I hear myself complaining of the absence of a broadband line and the inability to rightfully download pirated movies and songs. Not to mention the inability to blog. Oh yeah, that was the original point of this whole ramble, wasn't it? Well, so here I was looking at this flimsy telephone line and the 'dialup connection'. You do remember it right, the one where the modem tries its best to sound like a mosquito near your ears? And then after 7 tries and disconnections you finally hit the jackpot and connect!

Just to realise that the day you'll access ANY website with this bitrate, it'll be winter in hell.

And just when it seemed there was no way this would work, from the gloom comes this brilliant inspiration. Email!!

Yes, like the amateur blogger that I am it took me some time to realise that you can post on Blogger through email. No more struggling with websites. Just send a mail and its posted automatically. So, there is hope after all.

Now, since there aren't any excuses left, the balls are firmly in my court. So, stay tuned and keep your fingers crossed!

The moonwalking insect..

This is one of the most fascinating insects in the world which could be right below your very feet and you may never have seen them! Its the antlion (known a little less politely as 'doodlebugs' by the Americans and "ari-jigoku" or "ant hell" by the Japs).
Here in this video taken by me in Meghalaya, an antlion larvae does its distinctive backward crawl into the sand even if its just a handful.
Antlions belong to the order Neuroptera and the family Myrmeleontidae. The adults are much larger than this puny one in the video. They lie under the ground in their holes with their heads covered completely by sand, waiting for the unsuspecting ant, spider or some other bug to pass by. When it does come along, the unstable sand tunnel collapses and the insect falls straight into the jaws of the waiting Antlion. Its easy to spot their characteristic conical hole openings in the sand.

In the beginning..

To start the first post with such an inane and cliched heading doesnt seem very promising at all, does it?
I'll save you the agony and keep it short. This is just to let you know that this blog is gonna live upto its name - the key word being 'intermittent' !
Simply because I'm not gonna have the luxury that you have of sitting in front of your computer with a loyal broadband firing away. No, this is gonna have my posts from the field (mostly north-east India) and I'll be able to post them only -- yes! you guessed it... "in-ter-mittent-ly"
So you'll just have to live with that.
This blog is primarily a response to people who complain that I don't write enough (what is enough?) and some others who claim that my periodic disappearing acts to the field and drastic changes in physical appearance doesn't help their memories nor my social life. So there..