Dragon in Rain

This is, in many ways, the story of hope.
 
The call I received last week set me out for a trip. Like most of my travels, this one too was sudden and impromptu. I made a few calls to discuss the weather up there before throwing the stuff in my bag. The message came back suggesting that I should travel with light warm clothes as the weather was 'mildly cold.'
 
It was my first trip to the mountains of North Eastern India. The itinerary was Bombay-Calcutta-Darjeeling-Kalimpong-Gangtok. The plan sounded too much of a dream come true. For a long while I had wanted to visit Darjeeling and Gangtok.
 
As I boarded the Bombay-Calcutta flight I had several butterflies in my stomach. There was an unknown fear at the back of my head that this near-dream-trip was not going to go the way I had imagined it to be.
 
Two and a half hours later I was flying over Calcutta and I couldn't see the city down below. There were thick rain clouds hanging over the city. The captain's voice on PA warned us to remain in our seats as the weather outside was turbulent.
 
Flying through the rain clouds our flight shook like a one of these scary rides in some cheap theme park.
 
Half an hour later the flight landed on the wet tarmac.
 
The rain was coming down in sheets as a car drove me to a guest house. I was to spend the day in Calcutta and board the train for NJP in the night.
 
As soon as I land in a city I get this urge to get off the car and walk the roads, take the unknown alleys. On that day, the roads and alleys were flooded. 

I had long list of things-to-discover in Calcutta. The list went out of the window. I settled for a trip to Chinatown, a village in Calcutta where mostly immigrants from China have settled. 

As we drove through the alleys of Chinatown, my excitement was hitting the roof seeing those huge gates, painted in red. Again I wanted to get out of the car and walk behind those doors. But there was not a single soul on the streets. Water was slowly filling in the streets. People were running away.
 
The lunch was quiet in the ghostly Chinatown.
 

By the time I reached back to guest house I was disappointed. But I told myself that my excitement about this trip was to see the snow capped range of Kanchenjunga from Darjeeling and Gangtok. Calcutta was accidental - an urban town that I had to stop over before I could board the train for onward journey.
 
Once I convinced myself about the real purpose, the real excitement of the trip, I slept for the next two hours.
 
That night we boarded the train for NJP. Among the group of five I was the only one who was going to North Eastern mountains of India for the first time.
 
Among the group of five I was the most excited one.
 
The train was supposed to reach by 6am at NJP. I woke up at 8am. The train was miles before NJP. The train tracks ahead were flooded. Behind us the situation in Calcutta worsened.
 
I walked to the door of our compartment and looked outside. The rain clouds hung in the sky giving an angry look to me who was standing down there looking at them with an unhappy face.

The train reached NJP six hours late. From NJP to Darjeeling is another four hours by car. By the time we reached Darjeeling it was night.
 
A day was already lost.
 
 
Next morning I woke up early. The day before was already lost. So I wanted to make the most of this one.
 
I came out of my room, into the corridor. I was greeted by thick mist. I couldn't see beyond the verandah of the hotel. The constant sound of rain had started getting on my nerves.

The fear that I had at the beginning of the journey seemed to be coming true. I fought my annoyance by telling myself that this mist, this low visibility in hills is an experience in itself. And may be who knows, the weather will improve tomorrow, as these rains were unexpected. And then, may be, it will be shining bright in Gangtok when we reach there the day after.
 
I pushed my anger, my fear, my disappointments away and set out for Tiger Hill where tourists go to see sunrise. Forget sunrise, all I could see clearly was the next coniferous tree. But that was expected, so no hard feelings.
 
So far.
 

By the night the rain became heavier. Someone from the group suggested that we should drop the Gangtok from our list. It was no point visiting Gangtok if the weather is the same.
 
The decision was adjourned till next morning. Few calls were to be made next morning to find out the weather in Gangtok.
 
Fighting battle against fear and anger was becoming tougher with the small ammunition of hope that I had.
 
Next morning the fog was thicker. There was a landslide in Darjeeling. More were expected. 
 

It hadn't stopped raining even for a second. Gangtok was dropped from the list.
 
We set out for Kalimpong.
 
My first trip to these mountains and I hadn't seen a single mountain so far. The mountains were out there somewhere, hidden by the fog.
 
As the car drove towards Kalimpong, I was quiet. The enthusiasm had started fading away. I couldn't get Gangtok out of my mind.
 
But things have a way of turning out better when you least expect them to.
 
The drive to Kalimpong is like a U. You drive all the way down from Darjeeling to Teesta, on the road that runs parallel to the river and then you start driving up towards Kalimpong.
 
As we drove down we left the rain clouds behind. From below the same mist, the same clouds, trapped in the greens of the hills looked phenomenal. Down from Teesta Darjeeling looked as if it existed somewhere in the sky - a town amidst the clouds. 
 

We started cruising towards Kalimpong. The road was tough. We drove throw the clouds - I'll call them clouds now instead of mist. The whole curve of mist/clouds and then driving down, away from them and then entering back into the rain clouds was indescribable.
 
My mind picked up its small armament of hope and started its battle against the disappointment and grudges.
 
After all everything was not lost. Discovering the almost virgin town of Kalimpong, which is not as hot favourite among tourists as Darjeeling, had filled me with enough joy.
 

As we drove back from Kalimpong to Darjeeling I was telling myself that even though I couldn't see the snow-capped mountain range, or even though I couldn't walk around the town too much, even though most of the time I ended up getting soaking wet in Darjeeling and then drying my clothes in front of the fire  (You see, just like in life, I had not packed for the 'rainy day' at all), that in spite of all these even thoughs my trip was made. And the trip wouldn't have been the same had it not been for the rains.
 
The places wouldn't have looked the same, the hills wouldn't have looked the same without the rain clouds trapped in their greens, the tea gardens of Darjeeling wouldn't have looked the same without the mist.
 
I was refuelling myself with these thoughts as the car headed back for Darjeeling.
 
In a while it'll be dark and this beauty will hide itself behind the black blanket of night.
 

And then the unexpected happened.
 
Suddenly someone from group shouted 'Kanchendzonga! Kanchendzonga!'
 
Everyone turned in their seats including me. I couldn't figure out at first what he was trying to say. Then he turned around in his seat and pointed to the rear window of the car.
 
Somewhere behind the car, miles away, snow capped mountains of Kanchenjunga range had started to peep out of the veil of clouds.
 
We all screamed. The car was stopped and we got down and ran to the point where we could get the glimpse of the range before the sky turned black.
 
I fought my tears as I looked at the magnificent mountains - the hope of seeing which I had almost given up. I had almost accepted the bargain of god and was willing to shortchange my expectations. But god smiled back.
 
Someone from the group, who had been to Darjeeling and Kalimpong many times, said, 'Kanchenjunga. In this weather. Well you are very lucky to see it.'
 
'Very lucky.' I was hearing these words for the first time during this trip.
 
'Very lucky.' I was feeling so for the first time during this trip.