My companions (Tushar and his friend Raja) and I left for Shillong at six in the morning. The route itself is quite popular with the locals so you find plenty of shared cars (Rs. 300 for the smaller ones and Rs. 170 for Sumos) plying the route from Paltan Bazaar. Once you’re out of the city, it takes all of five minutes to reach the border and cross over into a magnificent four lane highway that meanders through the hills. You know you have crossed the border from the overabundance of liquor shops (with the state having the lowest tax on liquor among the surrounding states). The journey itself took a little less than three hours, with spectacular views of Bara Pani lake along the way.
We knew our destination was near by the horrendous never ending traffic. All the vehicles moved at snails place as the narrow roads were incapable of keeping up with the traffic. it could easily take upward of an hour to reach the centre from the outskirts, a distance of less than 10kms. This problem according to my friends was further exacerbated during the weekends. Frustrated by the slow pace, we got off the bus and decided to hoof it to our destination at Police Bazaar.
Along the way we stopped at Bamboo Hut, a moderately upscale restaurant for brunch. We feasted on pork fried rice and chilly pork (Rs. 240) and continued onwards. Our pitstop along the way was Wards Lake (Rs. 10) a beautiful well maintained place, albeit a bit small. Like all parks in India it was filled with lovers taking strolls or lounging among the trees. Onward we continued and after a healthy dose of getting completely and utterly lost, we found our way through narrow gullies and steep steps to our initial destination, Police Bazaar.
We spent our initial time there trying to figure out where to eat and how we could proceed to our final stop of the day, Cherrapunji (Sohra). We wandered through the shops looking for advice as to how to proceed. Finally on the directions of some locals we headed to Bara Bazaar on the local bus (Rs. 10). Once there we went looking for the local bus/shared taxi stand which we could not find. Instead, we wandered through the Khasi Market (Lew Duh) which was full of gorgeous local fruits and vegetables and other local implements. The red and green berries were particular beautiful with each costing only Rs. 10 per packet and packing a distinct sweet/sour taste. Having worked up quite an appetite, we headed back to Police Bazaar and greedily devoured typical Khasi cuisine in the form of a pork meal (Rs.130) at Trattoria. The owner was incredibly friendly and redirected us again to where the bus stop was. Armed with this knowledge, I left my companions and ventured off on my own in search of the place. After another dose of getting hopelessly lost, I serendipitously ended up in Bara Bazaar again and after appropriate redirection by the locals, I found myself in Anjali, the local bus stop. Honestly, it isn’t in a very open part of town, but the locals are incredibly friendly and hospitable and redirected me to the appropriate bus heading to Sohra.
The ground floor houses the buses (Rs. 40) while the first floor contains the shared Jeeps (Rs.70) that connect all the nearby villages to Shillong. Having found our transit point, I headed back to fetch my companions through the inner roads. Raja and I bid farewell to Tushar and after walking back, boarded the bus to Sohra. The bus was quickly filled with huge bags of rice and other supplies and at some points in our journey, we were literally sitting on the bags of rice, but it all added to the charm.
The scenery along the way was breath taking to say the least, but as dusk fell, a heavy fog rolled in. The fog was so thick that it reduced visibility to about five feet with occasional flashes of lightning illuminating trees and houses. At one stage, we were passing by a sheer drop to the left, with the actual bottom being obscured by the fog itself. This created an illusion of a bottomless pit where monstrous creatures lived, with the shadows cast by the lightning projecting grotesque shapes. We stopped frequently closer to Sohra to unload the rice resulting in the journey taking a little more than two and a half hours.
As soon as we stepped off the bus were battered by a thunderstorm and a sheer wall of icy wind that cut to the very bone. We quickly found shelter and warmed ourselves on a plate of steaming hot momos and pork fried rice (Rs. 80) at a local restaurant near the bus stand. After our meal, we spent the next fifteen minutes getting drenched in an effort to look for a taxi to take us to our accommodation, which resulted in a miserable failure. Luckily for us, an angel in the guise of a local shop owner called her family to drop us off at a nominal rate (Rs. 100).
We reached Sa-I-Mika and were showed our dorm by the owner, who was extremely hospitable. He even knocked down the price of the accommodation (normally Rs. 350 a night) because he felt bad that there were clothes hung to dry there. At that stage we were willing to sell our firstborns for respite from the rain, so his words were icing on the cake. We quickly changed out of our clothing and after a nightcap to warm up our bones, we wrapped ourselves up in blankets and drifted off to the sounds of the heavy rainfall crashing against the roof.
Maybe. Who knows? 