Peace Offering

Summer last year took me to a quaint sleepy hill station called Mirik, between Siliguri and Darjeeling in north Bengal.

Summer last year took me to a quaint sleepy hill station called Mirik, between Siliguri and Darjeeling in north Bengal. A long unwinding stretch of mighty pine trees greets visitors, leading us to a stream of houses, hotels and shops sloping towards Sumendu Lake.

The town’s most famous landmark is the Bokar Gompa monastery and we arrived just in time for a rare feel into a Buddhist ritual: a group of monks having their last public dinner, not in the monastery, but at Samden restaurant in the heart of the hill station. The next day, they would go into a retreat, not be seen in public for the next three-and-a half-years. It is a prolonged period of undisturbed meditation in the quest for enlightenment, undertaken in the caves that form part of the hillside.

That night, dinner was a surreal experience with the head lama sitting at the centre of the table, surrounded by a group of 20 monks, chanting prayers, their lilting notes creating an unusual fusion with the Tibetan rock song blaring from the speakers placed on the walls of the restaurant. More surreal was the sight of them feasting on bowls of noodles, fried rice and momos while frantically talking on their flashy mobile phones. Once dinner ended, a French lady accompanying them told everyone to hand over their phones: “Now you’ll get them back only after three-and-a-half years,” she joked. The monks chuckled. Outside, the sky was overcast with dark moody clouds. Yet, rain eluded us that night.

Buddhism is fairly prominent in this part of the world but the local monastery is not the only tourist attraction. There is also the Hindu Devi Sthan temple, reached by a trail through dense woods around Sumendu Lake. “Many years ago, tigers used to live here; the locals built a temple of goddess Durga to protect themselves,” says a local guide.

The lake is the centrepiece of Mirik. Tourist-inspired paddle-boats can be hired for those wanting a lazy ride on the waters, but the surrounding area is the main draw, with pretty tea gardens, small wooden houses with miniature gardens and the omnipresent orange-robed lamas adding an air of peace and tranquillity. Many of the foreigners one meets, from countries like Italy and Germany, are on the Buddhist trail across India and they all seem delighted with having discovered Mirik. “It is a wonderful surprise. The air is pure, free of pollution, and the place is silent and beautiful. Everything is so clean. I can even manage without mineral water,” said an Italian tourist.

I had found accommodation at a homestay named Tulsa cottage. Wooden windows opened on to a small flower garden where Govind, the elderly owner, his wife and friends met over tea every morning. Flowers and orchids are integral to local culture in Mirik and a floral fragrance and an expanding vista of pine trees, pervade the atmosphere. It wasn’t always like this. In 1986, when Subhash Ghising began an agitation for a separate Gorkha land, the locals had chopped down many trees. The resulting soil erosion led to a landslide in 2003, killing many tea estate workers at the Ghayabari Tea Estate. Local NGOs and the Darjeeling Gorkha Hill Council (DGHC) then initiated an afforestation drive by planting utthish, a local tree known to firmly arrest soil erosion, and retain ground water. The results have been encouraging.

Next morning, I walked to Ningalay in the Thorbu Tea Estate. Tejman Puri, an official from Friends of Trees Forum (FTF), a local NGO, took me through a noted orchidarium in the area. We walked past the lake, past women watering their flower gardens, girls and boys in uniforms setting out for school and female tea estate workers plucking tea leaves. At the orchidarium, I was shown a range of orchids, each more exotic than the other. Later, we visited another small orchidarium at another small village in the vicinity. Puran, the owner, told us about the exorbitant prices they fetch, “The rates for whole pots vary from Rs 12,000-70,000 depending on the variety, while cut-flowers range from Rs 500-10,000,” he said.

Late afternoon, I trekked upto the Bokar Gompa to witness the retreat of the monks. Built a few years ago, the majestic monastery atop Mirik has around 1,200 finely carved metal statues of Lord Buddha, intricate artwork on the roof and walls and a series of expensive tangkhas. Inside the main compound, a few young lamas were running around playing marbles, while some others were at a boisterous game of football in the basement. Dressed in crimson robes, their heads shaved, they behaved like all children do. Even the surge of crowd bidding the monks farewell did not affect them much.

By now, a crowd had gathered around the compound. As mothers and sisters hugged the departing monks, their fathers stood stoically. A head monk lead the procession uphill, the sound of clamouring cymbals and incense smoke lingering on the path long after they were out of sight. That night, Samden wore a desolate expression. New faces had occupied the benches and the music droned on mirthlessly. After dinner, I left for a walk by the lakeside. Droplets of rain, that had evaded the valley all this while, began trickling down. Ambushed by the invigorating smell of water-soaked soil, I retreated to my guest house, and watched the flower pods quiver in the rain. Peace could not be more tangible.

Source:  indianexpress