holiday hoohaas- illam to ktm

the air changed as the bus rolled out of kathmandu. at nagdunga, i guess , i got a sense of change, a sense of momvement, and a bit of betterness. whatever happened next, i am now assured, that the sense of betterness, stayed with me for the whole trip, as it continues today as well.
when i got into the bus, after much of hassle, i was up for going back to my original home in illam, a small village tucked in huge hills, covered with lean bamboos, and vast tea bagans. i was looking forward to this change in my seemingly boring and static life. this was going to be a bit of adventure for a me, a bit of movement, and hopefully a whole lot of fun. the air was rustling in from the bus window, as i left the mundane routines of my day to day life. i had a feeling this was going to be great. until ofcourse, the bus got stuck in a jam, 5 minutes into the ride, for a reason, i would hav to run god knows how many kilometres to fetch. the bus was a box of hot air closing in on me, and the dust, dirt coming in from my window didn't really help. there were a few things left for me to do, and asking myself why i joined in on the whole trip thing knowing i would be stuck like this in the road every few minutes the bus would move, and getting out of the bus into the scorching heat, and dust were two striking possiblities. instead i chose to open an entertainment magazine, i had squeezed into my backpack. the bus moved. i, therefore neatly packed in the magazine inside. until ofcourse, the bus stopped, again, this time for, again something i wouldnt know. aniways, i guess this was something i had anticipated, behind all that air, and the scenery and the movement stuff, that dosent really make any sense when you are stuck inside a stuffy bus, with nothing to do, but make conversations that start with a "so...." and end with "uh.huh", soon after the other person makes no remote sign of being interested in anything you would want to blabber about.
the bus moves again, and stops again, like this were its routine, and as a matter of fact it probably is. but after a while, i guess i got into it, and as everything rolled on, it got a lot easier. winding through the, now somewhat lonely highway, making stops here and there for tea and refreshments, in no time, the sun slowly set behind the lovely hills in the west. we were decending to the thatched roofs, the vast rice feilds, and long, broad and dry rivers of terai. the memory etched in me, of previous such trips, returned to me, drifting along the calmness, of what was disappearing before me, into the darkness of a november night. the peace, i could describe, the vague lines of faraway hills, rustling rice plants, lean, long trees, punctuated by a few lights shining through small huts here and there, scattered, is almost overwhelming. this sense prevailed with me, for the rest of the night.

the morning that followed, ....



2nd part>
Illam finally.

Tea bagans show up, in ways most pleasing to the eyes, with the start of kanyam. Lush green tea shrubs delicately placed together, are feast upon anyones eyes for as far as they can see. Kanyam, and its tea bagans are famous, mostly around illam as a good picnic spot. A quick stop there for all of us to look around, and we move again.
Higher the bus moves, its horns blaring through the winding road. A quick glance at the pathibhara mandir, in my imagination, from the bus window, tucked inside the canopy of trees high above, and in no time we reach home. Well, almost. But the sense of homecoming truly prevails upon reaching fikkal. Fikkal, a bazaar, busy and bustling to the point where its hard to get your foot in, during the Thursdays, is mainly, on the other days a quiet place. The shops all around offer anything from the famous lallipops, a locally made confectionary, made out of khuwa (a dairy product) to world products such as coke, pepsi and lays.
Another good thing about Fikkal, and something that draws me to it, everytime,I happen to cross it, is the skoosh(a vegetable, I could consciously assume to be unpopular with kids) momo prepared around here , available with a free bowl of soup, also unique with the flavoring, if I could call it, of dalmot, on the surface. Skoosh and I , normally, don’t really share the best of relationships, but the places around here work magic, on it, making this one of the best item of momo I have ever tasted. Personally, I love it.
A plate of momo, make that two plates, and two bowls of soup and Im ready for illam bazaar.
Ilaam bazaar, is located a two and a half hour ride away from Fikkal. Whatever the pros and cons of it, I cannot deny the fun of a ride in the hood of a jeep to the bazaar, and for someone, who has never really been there, it’s a whole lot more. The scenes that continuously dissolve and form before the eyes are enchanting. And the bazaar itself is no less fun, especially during Dashain and Tihar. after searching for a cheap lodge, with bathroom and toilet facilities to die for, {not that I was expecting five.star, but even so, there is the question of morality. ) we left , with the sun setting, for a quick trip around. The bazaar itself is not much to talk about, but a little away is a large spread of tea bagan, with stones, to sit upon on the top of the hill, etched with names of lovers and promises of undying love. A bit later, some of our newfound friends, if I could arrange a relation, who were from around there, informed us of a maoist-army war fought there, the Maoists, fighting from where we stood, and the army from a faraway hill. It must have been one of the chilly nights we hav around here, and not so long ago. It also reminded me of how our country has changed in a matter of a couple of years. Where are we headed, no one can tell. And although a shadow dawned briefly upon my thoughts, it quickly evaporated as I looked far into the horizon, the sun melting and colors of orange, green and yellow, mixed into the beauty of a painter’s imagination.