Umkar - Living Root Bridge In The Making

                                                  

The road seems to be having a hard time staving off the rapidly growing  thick vegetation straining in from both its edges. Given an ounce of earth on the tarmac they would probably spurt the next length of grass. There isn’t a soul in sight save the birds and the thickets on either sides. By now we have pretty much adjusted ourselves to sudden sighting of little streams behind dense foliage or a small waterfall gushing down the sides.  Albeit poorly. We are on our way to Siej village in Sohra to marvel at what this area is best known for.  The Living Root Bridge. And the Umkar Root bridge is one in the making ever since the original one was washed away in torrential rains.

                                                     

We park the vehicle near the village school as instructed by the resort we are lodged at, and get ready to walk down a few steps to where the bridge is. A lone pineapple grows by the long steps that go up from where a matron materializes and descends to collect the fee . “ Camera? Mobile?” she asks, her lips stained with kwai. Having paid the nominal amount, we descend  the flight of steps on the other side while she goes back to wherever she came from. A teenager sits in her verandah watching us go down. Wet soggy leaves lie strewn on the wide steps and  we need to be careful lest we reach our destination in humpty dumpty style. It is the season of jackfruit ripening and as if to prove a point we come across  a few splattered on the steps. The trees are shaking off the last of the rain till the next lot pours.

                                                     

                                                 

         

The walk down to the Umkar bridge takes just a few minutes in contrast to the superstar of its ilk, the Umshiang double decker root bridge . We hear the water gushing down much before reaching the point. And there it is.  Roots twisting and turning , entwining and braiding across a stream that is jumping off the rocks. They are trained over the rocks midstream and for the rest of the way have a bamboo scaffolding to support the new roots, pushing them into the required direction.

It is an eye opener to see the roots of the Figus Elastica, a type of rubber tree, first dig deep into the ground on the bank taking shape so as to find support. The villagers  guide the secondary roots,  across and all around to lend a strong support and also to create the bridge. Bamboo poles are tied  and positioned horizontally overhead leading the tender root to the other side. The villagers of Siej aim at engineering a double decker. It would take them another two decades or so before it is fully functional.

                                                       

                                                       

A still photography team from Singapore is positioned on the concrete bridge running parallel to the natural one.  A root bridge ideally takes 15 to 20 years to grow and survives for many years. There is a wealth of wisdom in the Khasi forefather's  understanding the quality of the tree growing by streams helped by the heavy rainfall. It took a considerable time of their life span to see their project fructify and yet they continued to build bridges for the future generations. Bamboo or wooden bridges would rot and give away in a few years time but a living root bridge would only grow stronger and sturdier.

The first few  tentative steps on the Umkara bridge we take soon gives way to happy and delightful paces. But only till a little more than halfway. The roots are still tender and in the process of growing and reaching out to the other side helped by a bamboo frame underneath.

Buoyed by the world waking up to these bio engineering marvels, villages in Sohra are creating these bridges to cash in on its popularity. Like the one in Siej, where the aspiring double decker project is looking at more tourist inflow when it is ready. At least what they are exhibiting has not damaged nature in any way. They have only shown to the world how nature gives for generations if handled well.

                                                     

On our return the girl in the verandah asks us where are we from. Her brows rise when she understands Delhi. We have a little language problem trying to share a conversation. She keeps hollering for her father and brothers, who are busy slashing the undergrowth and caring for the fruit trees on the slope beside her home. She is looking for the right words. It’s a humble home she lives in. A flight of steps leads up a high plinth and disappears into the dark doorway. There are many more bridges to be built.


This post was written for TWTFOW#5

Sohra

                                                     

 Sohra is a place that will play peekaboo  as you drive along the road ribboning down Shillong for almost 60 kms. The hills will ensconce you now or suddenly disappear behind a thick layered veil of clouds and tease with just a portion of the road visible ahead. But you know you are on safe grounds because the journey is through a table top and the edges are way off the road. Snaking through the  meadows in multiple shades of green, the clouds welcomed us into their folds and showered us with rains. In any case this was what I had come for, chasing the rains. 

Through the rain washed window panes, blurred landscape rushed by. I could make out a stream flowing or jumping off a rocky ledge in the meadows. A settlement passed by, people moving around unhurriedly with colourful umbrellas, an integral part of their existence. The rains had stopped as suddenly as it had begun as if to let us have a good look around. We passed  pretty Khasi homes with just one or two little windows on either side of the front door. No matter how humble the home was, there were no compromises on two aspects. Cleanliness and curtains. Every window, whether it was of a roadside kiosk, a shack, or a home had pretty curtains on their windows. And cleanliness? There was not a piece of wrapper within sight even within the compounds of their homes. Woven baskets hung from tree trunks or placed by the road was a common sight. And the roads forever had a washed look.  A string of laundry was staked up on a bamboo pole, left to dry in the breeze. Even from the distance I could make out they had been scrubbed clean. I wonder how do they dry the clothes with rain pouring in every now and then? And then I see some women attired in Jainsen  walking down to a stream with yet another pail of clothes. 

The owner of the resort we stayed in, claimed that entire Sohra once had an abundance of fruit trees and probably that's where the name came from "Soh" meaning fruits. And then came the British who couldn't quite get it right ( as is evident from the spate of renaming them throughout the country) and referred to it as Churra. The Bengali babus who assisted the British in administration further added 'punjo' to indicate a cluster. The local name Sohra changed to Cherrapunjee. The slopes of the south Khasi hills looks out at the vast watery Bangladesh. For the people of the adjoining Bangladesh plains, it made sense to   turn this side rather than trudge a long way to the nearest city. Sohra was a hub of fruits market and the local people  had trade relations with  neighbouring Bangladesh. "People here flourished then. But now they have left for distant places in search of livelihood" she claims. Tracks that connected the hills with the plains are overgrown with years of disuse. Strangely even the fruit trees started disappearing and the locals were looking at a grim future.

For all its lush greenery and rainfall, Sohra doesn't yield itself to cultivation. The traditional practice of jhum cultivation has robbed the land of its green cover. The incessant rains have added to the woes by washing away the precious top soil. A dark rocky surface juts out in many places from the greenery, lending a heightened contrast to the verdant cover. 

This region stands on a rich deposit of limestone. And soon cement factories sprung up to extract and utilize this resource. It provided respite to the locals in terms of employment and stable livelihood. Although, there are many who continue to sell off the produce from their homestead to supplement the wages earned here or at distant land. I crossed a cement factory and on the other side was a small wooden bridge that led to a row of buildings in the distance. The sky was overcast taking a respite before the next downpour. The undulating landscape was lush and fresh as only the rains can bestow. And for an instant, I wondered if the women were going to step out of their homes and wait for the men to return from the factory shift. would they hand over their earnings to the women before walking in to take a bath and sit down to a hot meal? Strangely,  Richard Llewyllen's How Green Was My Valley surfaced. But that was South Wales and the coal mines. This is Sohra and cement factory. And yet there is an echo. Probably my imagination of a Welsh countryside coincided with what stretched before me. 

Sohra continued to charm me  with it's quietude and clean air. The only sounds were that of the breeze rustling the leaves, bird songs or the rain falling in a steady pour. When the shower stopped for a while, I sat on the bamboo bench and looked out at the ridge opposite. Wisps of tinged low clouds hovered over the valley. 

"They have taken away our title" the owner of the resort had said. The ridge on the other side under the clouds was Mawsynram, wearing the crown of being the wettest place on earth. Did it make Sohra any less beautiful? Did it rob it of its quiet charm? Did it make the numerous waterfalls plunging down the cliffs any less majestic? 

I made a promise to myself, I shall return to Sohra once again and again. For that is what it does to you. Seeps into your heart with all its simplicity and stays on as a warm thought.


                                                 

This post was written for TWTFOW#5

                                   

Shillong

Courtesy Wikipedia

                                       
     It was the cool white sheets tautly spread with a soft white quilt under which I snuggled that changed my mind about Shillong. I've hated journeys as a child and this was my first visit to my aunt's house at Laban in Shillong. It was only the morning after we reached Shillong, dead tired after a drive from Guwahati, that I realised the fairyland we had arrived at. Her home was a cottage with wooden floor that made rather heavy sounds when anyone walked . A neat kitchen with shining utensils spreading warmth as homes in Shillong do. Outside the window I could see fine powdery drizzle that fell softly and melted in the air. These are my earliest memory of Shillong, the Scotland Of The East.

    Around hundred kms from Guwahati in Assam, Shillong has always been a place which people from the Brahmaputra plains have spoken about with reverence. It used to be a matter of great pride if one had a relative who was a Shillong dweller.They were invariably looked upon as the ones with a liberal mindset and English speaking elite class of people.  Being the erstwhile capital of undivided Assam, it has a colonial charm with the trademark architectural stamp on the buildings; a golf course said to be one of the best in Asia; old churches; missionary schools and colleges like Pine Mount, Loreto convent, St. Edmunds, St.Anthony's, Lady Keane to name a few; winding sloping roads; kwai (betel nut) chewing, pink cheeked pretty Khasi girls  in  "Jainsems", a material knotted over their shoulder ; add to this list, the salubrious clime of the Khasi hills and you have the charming Shillong.

   If you are ambling around the town do visit the Police Bazaar and try some of the local pork delicacies and the noodles. There is a Chinese shoe maker who can fashion pretty shoes out of the fabric of your choice that can go with your dress. I remember a friend who was looking for an exact shade of beige to go with her 'muga mekhela sador'. She finally gave him a strip of 'muga' silk out of which an exquisite pair of shoes were made. If you are the kind who loves to explore local authentic ingredients then Bara Bazaar is the place for you. You will find all kinds of ingredients, fruits and vegetables here and place experience the feel of a local market. Although it could get a tad dirty here. Once you are done with the market you could go to Ward's Lake, biggest man made lake here. It is a good place to relax and stroll around or go boating around this horse-shoe shaped lake. You must make a trip to the Shillong peak that gives a beautiful view of the plains below with clouds wafting in and out. And if there is a slight drizzle you will love the hot plates of maggi served there.  We have always bought potatoes on our way back from the peak. I've never seen such white and thin skinned, clean potatoes anywhere. That there is a Central Potato Research Institute here helps. I remember our car always being loaded with "Shillong vegetables" on our way back from a trip here. They are the tastiest and the freshest lot. Elephant falls ( a series of two falls) in the outskirts about 12 kms from Shillong, and Spread Eagle falls in the Shillong cantonment, are quite a crowd puller. Monsoon is the best time to enjoy these falls and the many others that add to the natural splendour of Shillong.

   Once you are done with the town visiting the churches, museum and parks, do venture out for some overwhelming places like the Mawphlang Sacred Forest ( 25 kms from Shillong), a place teeming with plant life, aroids, orchids and other epiphytes, butterflies and a ground soft with a rich layer of centuries old humus.This place has been traditionally preserved since ancient days by the local people. Another must visit is one of Asia's cleanest village, Mawlynnong around 90 kms from Shillong along the Indo - Bangladesh border.  I relate now from what I've heard of my parents account, who made a trip here a few years back. Not a piece of paper was lying about on the roads.The villagers take pride in their village and every waste goes into the bamboo bins installed at regular intervals on the streets. the bio waste is collected and turned into manure in a pit. With hundred percent literacy, the villagers practice and spread the message of conservation.

  If you have travelled this far to see the cleanest village, you might as well go to Sohra, local name for the wettest place on earth Cherrapunji. Recently Sohra has wrested back the title from Mawsynram. You will not only be showered with the rains but also have a chance to see a natural marvel, the living root bridges. The Umshiang Double Decker Root Bridge is a Unesco world heritage site. The roots of the trees belonging to the ficus family are first pointed towards the opposite banks of streams by the local people. Once they grow over a period of time, they are entwined with roots coming  from the opposite direction and allowed to delve into the soil. This ingenuous bio-engineering takes 10 to 15 years for a bridge to evolve out of it. Root Bridges deserve a post in itself to do justice to them.

     The people of Meghalaya share a unique bond with Mother Nature drawing inspiration and learning to sustain themselves without jeopardizing the balance. Inhabited by charming people who believe in cleanliness and peaceful co existence with nature, Shillong  had always been a stress buster for the likes of us from the plains.


This post was written for the A to Z Challenge