CIVILISATION

(A memoir on Singalila trek November 2007)
I woke up early without an alarm clock’s intervention for it was one of the most restlessly awaited dawns of my life. I anxiously peeped out of the balcony to see if the day is clear. It was still cloudy like a day before or two. ”Still cloudy?” I complained!
After taking a cup of tea with two slices of bread I crept out of my relative’s place like a mouse on the run. Narrow streets of Darjeeling wore a deserted look, with few men and women carrying water jerry cans. As I hurriedly walked towards the taxi stand, a gust of cool breeze lapped against my face rekindling my vigour, which had been damped by the fog moving teasingly slow and black cloud hovering high like enemy helicopters during war. The weather in the Himalayas is always unpredictable. You never know when the Snow clad mountains smile through the curtains of thick cloud and fog. All a trekker can do is HOPE.
Soon, I could see a reasonable crowd that had gathered in front of BATA showroom to read or buy newspapers. Now I could hear vehicles honking and people chatting. I gave a quick glance around but my questing eyes could not trace anyone looking like Saibal ‘daju’ around; I took out my mobile phone and rang him up. He said he would be there within a few minutes.
He is one of my school days acquaintances. I know him since heydays of St. Robert’s High School. He was a batch senior to me. An active member of WWF and true nature lover, he is well versed with flora and fauna of Darjeeling Hills. He treks to Sandakphu range, the highest part of West Bengal, probably more often than anyone else in Darjeeling and for me it would not have been any better than trekking in company of a person like him.
Soon, we slipped into a taxi going towards a place called Sukhia. Nishes, another close friend of mine joined us at Ghoom.
After an hour’s taxi drive through narrow and snaky road, we changed the vehicle at Sukhia. This one lead us to the place call Maney Bhanjyang, from where one of the famous treks of the Himalayas kicks off.
We were all set to start three days trek to Singalila range. If luck would hold and clouds subside we had a chance to see full-fledged Himalaya range from Sandakpu or else we would be left with no option but to proudly claim that the journey was more beautiful than destination.
We started tramping uphill along a small lane that took us through pine forests. Slowly the panorama of Maney Bhanjyang, a small place inhabited by a few hundred people was dwindling away in thick air as we persistently walked ahead throw the forest. We were perhaps walking away from the civilisation.
After an hours walk, we were amid a large desolate moor in close proximity to India Nepal Border. The place was startlingly muted. We were probably the only objects making noise through our breathing as it appeared even the wind was keeping calm for some unscientifically anonymous reasons. It was, undoubtedly, one of those rare moments when I was able to communicate with my own core properly. The place was clearly far and far from so-called civilised world busy making noises with horns, loudspeakers, phones and all kinds of gadgets. And now, it is immaterial for me how the standard dictionaries define the word ‘civilisation’, because that very moment has effortlessly convinced my dim-witted and capricious mind one thing: civilisation is merely the absence of tranquillity or the presence of its opposite-noise, chaos and confusion!