My World of Food and Travel

It was hot and humid at home in Guwahati when I visited my parents this September. I had almost forgotten how it felt to be in my hometown at this time of the year. The past few years I had been visiting Guwahati only during the winters – the months of December and January. Besides, I don’t remember September being so muggy earlier. It would be one of the ‘pleasant’ months of the year – neither too hot, nor too cold. My birth month, after all, which reflects my own temperament, as I would like to believe. As I cooled myself in the only AC room we had in our house, I longed for some natural coolness. The coolness of the hills. Shillong ! The idea popped into my mind and I immediately relayed it to my parents. “Shillong is not exactly the same, you know,” Ma said with some trepidation. “The weather there has changed drastically and at some points it is no worse than Guwahati.” I knew about that. My sister had travelled to Shillong a year back and returned a bit disappointed. ...

The last month had been one of the most stressful periods at work this year and I needed some time to detox myself of all the negativities that had accumulated. There is only one place where I hoped to attain that – my parents’ home, where I could shear off the multiple roles that I played and just become their daughter. I chose my soon-to-be-three year old son as my sole companion, leaving behind the husband to fend for himself. Not that he seemed to mind much. As the plane took off for Guwahati from Bangalore, a rush of euphoria passed over both the son and I, for reasons entirely of our own. The brat had the window seat to himself and I had to crane my neck from time to time, wondering if we had entered Assam. Earlier I would just have to look down and glimpses of unending greenery and hills would tell me that we were a few minutes away from landing. This time it was different. I was visiting Assam with the monsoons still on. The sight that greeted me from below jolted me out of ...

If you were born in the early 80’s or maybe late 70’s would you remember a children’s film, produced by Children’s Film Society India, by the name ‘Rhino’? I think it was released in 1989. Maybe you have not even heard about it. But that was the second time I had come close to a movie filmed in Manas Wildlife Sanctuary, my home for nine years. The first time? That was an Assamese movie Manas Kanya (daughter of Manas), based on the novel ‘Neela Parir Saree’ (The Blue-bordered Saree). I was around 5 years old then and do not remember much. The author Ganesh Das, a prominent journalist in that part of the world and our family friend, was behind the film’s story, too. I remember watching the film on TV (Doordarshan) much later after its release, on the regional slot. Ma had sat beside me, telling me little anecdotes behind the movie’s making. She remembered her open kitchen where the movie crew dropped in at any time of the day with a “Baidew (or sometimes Khuri), I am hungry. Can I...

I have spent most of my life in Guwahati, and yet I never ventured towards Pobitora Wildlife Sanctuary. I think we still had that nobody-can-come-close-to-Manas hangover and could not imagine any wildlife flourishing near such a busy city as Guwahati. “Pobitora is for city slickers who have never seen real wildlife,” we would scoff and offer Pobitora as a sight-seeing option to anyone who asked what was there to see in Guwahati. And so it continued, our feigned attitude towards Pobitora, till the time we became city slickers ourselves, a breed we had looked upon with contempt. You see, what goes around comes around. This time, when I went home to Guwahati in December 2013, I gulped down all my previous proclamations and made way for Pobitora with my parents on a cold, misty, pre-dawn morning. The changes in the city brought over a ponderous mood but thankfully, the gloomy clouds of my mind lifted with the appearance of the sun. A sumptuous hot breakfast in a resort just at the ent...

It is that time of the year again – feasting and making merry! My favourite festival, no wonder. Magh Bihu, also known as Bhogali Bihu, is close to every Assamese’s heart and I am sure everyone has his/her own fond memories to tell. And I have loads! Let me take a deep breath, now… Magh Bihu to me has always been about my maternal grandmother or Aita. Since Aita lived with her two sons, whom we called dangor mama (elder uncle) and xoru mama (younger uncle), her four daughters who had been married off to distant corners of Assam would troop in for Bihu, their families in tow. I can still hear the multitude of chatter and laughter resounding through the large mansion with every new arrival.  There would be elaborate preparations for Uruka, the feast on the eve of Bihu. Huge mounds of straw would be brought over to make the bhela ghor , a temporary hut where communal feasting takes place and then lit at dawn. Our gang of younger cousins would revel among the straw mounds a...

Where have the hills disappeared? This was my thought as I looked around me in disbelief, on our way to Pobitora Wildlife Sanctuary. I knew Guwahati had changed. It had always been a congested city, given its importance among the 6 north-eastern states. A gateway to NE India, that’s how Guwahati is described. As I wiped down the misty car window glasses on a cold December morning, all I could see around me were looming apartment towers. The hills had been ‘cut down’. Or strangled by a burgeoning population that had taken over entire hill-sides. Who are these people? I winced as the car moved along, the dust and the fog intertwined. And then, just as despair was about to set in, there came into view this beautiful stretch of teak forest. I opened the windows and let the air in. And as if on cue, faint rays of sunlight streamed in through the canopy of trees. The world was alright, again.  The yellow fields of Punjab That’s what I was reminded of as I looked at the golde...