Shrouded in a mist of white, we stood there staring at nothing. There was nobody other than the five of us. The gushing sound of water, arising out of nowhere, echoed in the background as if trying to hush our overexcited voices. A row of empty shacks lay behind us. The entire place looked completely different – peaceful and serene. If I minus the shacks and the ugly green building, the place looked exactly like how I had seen it more than 15 years ago. We were at the viewpoint of Nohkalikai waterfall, the tallest plunge waterfall in India at a height of 1115 feet.
“Thanks for nudging me to come here,” quipped BIL, my bother-in-law, as we waited for the clouds to clear. My nephew and sister had taken up their respective vantage points, all set to capture nature’s delightful drama that was expected to unfold soon. BIL and I walked around, making the most of the empty surroundings. Everyone patiently waited for the surroundings to clear. We all knew that having Nohkalikai just to ourselves was once in a lifetime opportunity – perks of the pandemic.
Three years back when I happened to pass by Nohkalikai while trekking to Nongriat, I was in for a shock. (Read my trek story here.) The place was teeming with tourists and backpackers. There were vehicles of all shapes and sizes. Dozens of shops selling all kinds of local wares were lined up on one side of the viewpoint. A restaurant with a direct view of the waterfall bustled with activities adding to the already cacophonous situation. All of these completely doused the brilliant gorgeousness of the waterfall. It was a complete contrast to how I had seen the waterfall several years back, when tourism was yet to take off in North East India. Tourism boosts local economy and needs to be encouraged but tourism with no focus on sustainability is sheer foolishness, and that’s just what’s happening in Meghalaya. I do hope the authorities take control of the already deteriorating condition.
Nohkalikai is the pride of Meghalaya tourism and is located in Cherrapunji, about 2 hours away from the capital city, Shillong. Cherrapunji, also known as Sohra, is one of the wettest places on Earth. Its lush green layered hills and low hanging clouds appeals to your senses evoking a frenzied sense of ecstasy. And, I say that with no exaggeration, whatsoever! However, it remains overcrowded with tourists throughout the year. As a result, it’s been over a decade that we stopped visiting Cherrapunji. This year was different. Due to the pandemic, Meghalaya had shut its borders and there were no tourists in the state. Tourist places remained closed for several months and opened up in mid-October, but only for the locals. This was our opportunity and off we went for a drive to Cherrapunji. As expected, it was deserted and we had all the fluffy clouds, the winding roads, the tall pines, the layered hills just to ourselves.
Nohkalikai, however, happened only because I insisted. Other family members were not too keen as everyone felt, “How many more times will we see Nohkalikai.” I knew with nobody around, Nohkalikai would look completely different. The glorious waterfall would dazzle like it did several years back. And, right I was! There’s no denying that Nohkalikai is one of the most stunning waterfall in India.
Getting a clear view of Nohkalikai is quite often like the roll of a dice given the fickle nature of Meghalaya’s clouds and rains. This time it was no different. It was 4.00 PM by the time we arrived and the thick clouds didn’t seem to have any intention of clearing at that time of the day. However, knowing the weather like we did, we decided to wait for a while. There wasn’t much hope as it was the fag end of the day.
But it turned out to be a very fruitful wait as nature rewarded us with the most spectacular show. The clouds started moving slowly, the sun popped up once again, the green hills started gently making their appearance. The show was turning out to be way better than we had anticipated. The curtain was raising and it was like a drama unfolding in nature’s amphitheater.
The sparkling white beauty made a glamorous entry cascading on the stage of green forested hills. The reflective white strip singularly stood out plunging amid a dozen shades of green. The clouds moved further and then disappeared altogether while displaying the still pool of turquoise down below. It seemed as though the mighty plunge needed some much deserved rest.
We stood there gorging on every single act, not a word from any of us. Slowly the clouds came back, the curtains were drawn, the show was over, and once again we were staring at nothing. “Let’s get going,” said someone.
I was mesmerized by the mystical Himalayas when I had trekked there for the first time. At that time, my knowledge of trekking was limited to just a few blogs that I had read. I had very randomly signed up for the Kedarkantha trek and embarked upon it without any preparation. (Read more about my first trek here).
It was during Kedarkantha trek that I had heard about treks like Rupin, Roopkund, etc. from fellow trekkers who had been to those places. At that time, I had thought that such treks were way beyond my league.
As time progressed and I went for two more subsequent treks to the Himalayas, I found my heart yearning to do something more challenging. Being an ardent nature lover, I reasoned – more the difficulty, more rewarding would be views!
It’s been one year since…
Subsequently, I nervously signed up for the Rupin Pass Trek with doubts filling my mind on whether I could do it. A seasoned trekker and a friend with 17 treks under his belt both in the Himalayas and the Alps always raved about the hypnotic charm of Rupin Valley. And, each time he maintained that Rupin Pass was a difficult one for him. Also, Indiahikes (an organization, with whom I have done all my Himalayan Treks so far) rates Rupin as their topmost trek.
I had taken the plunge, but the jittery me started scavenging the Internet to gain a good understanding of the difficulty level. All the blogs gave vivid elaborations of the gorgeousness of this trail making me yearn for it even more. However, I could not find much insight into the level of difficulty.
Now that I have done the trek and done it well, I decided to write about the level of difficulty for the benefit of others.
Rupin Pass is graded as ‘moderate-difficult’. My personal experience is that the initial two days are moderate or easy even though you cover 10-11 Km. each day. You walk through winding dusty tracks with a few ascents and if it’s sunny make sure to cover yourself well and don’t miss your sunglasses or else you will end up with sunburns and headaches.
The next 4 days is a little challenging and it’s the terrain that makes it so. Some sections have steep ascents and steep descents which are sometimes through boulders and loose rocks or loose soil. There are precarious sections of walking on snow, some of which may have become hardened or even converted to ice.
And, just like any other Himalayan trek if the weather is good the trek becomes a lot easier and if rains or snows just that much difficult.
If I compare it with the other treks I had done till then, namely Kedarkantha, Kuari Pass, and Har-ki-Dun, I will definitely say this one is challenging. Those treks felt like child’s play before the Rupin Pass Trek.
This post is definitely not to dissuade you. You just need some amount of fitness and that is it. So, with the right preparation, it is absolutely doable. If I have done it and enjoyably so, anybody can do it.
Nervous as I was, I made sure I paid extra attention towards preparedness in terms of fitness. And, all of that paid off in the mountains, where I surprised myself by always being at the beginning of the team. Most of the time, I was leading – even during the much talked about ‘gully-climb’. All through the nine days, never for once was I exhausted and thoroughly enjoyed the stunning and divine Himalayan landscape.
A gist of the things I did…
Jogging 3-4 Km, five days a week and increasing that to 5 Km. a fortnight before the trek. Jogging is the best way to build cardiovascular endurance and get fit for a high altitude trek.
Continuing my usual Yoga routine four times a week but including squats and planks.
Doing Pranayama almost every day for 30 minutes, including breath retention as that increases lung capacity.
Taking the stairs whenever I could, which is something I anyway do – trek or no trek.
Walking as much as I could and whenever possible, again something I anyway do – trek or no trek.
I want to be ‘trek-ready’ always. With that intention, I have continued the above mentioned routine is a slightly customised way till today.
And subsequently, I went ahead and completed the Kashmir Great Lakes Trek too. However, Rupin was special and continues to be my personal favourite.
High altitude alpine lakes hidden well within the majestic mountains
I stood there staring at the Sindh River gushing away right next to our tents. Even a week before I didn’t know that I would be here. Life is uncertain and sometimes in a nice way, I thought to myself. We were at Shitkadi basecamp from where we would trek a good 75-80 Km. up to an altitude of 13,800 ft. in search of six beautiful alpine lakes hidden in the nooks and corners of the tall, jagged, and near barren Kashmir Himalayas.
The Kashmir Great Lakes (KGL) trek happened to be one of those spontaneous and impulsive decisions that I sometimes undertake without much thought. This was nowhere in the radar, especially after having just done Rupin Pass in May. My rash and impulsive self, sprouting from acute impatience, sometimes turns out to be quite a boon. The thought of KGL occurred and in just five days, I found myself in an airplane towards Srinagar. The thought was, of course, fueled by certain other situations happening in my life.
These are things that make me believe that it’s the mountains who decide when, where, and how one sets foot on them.
KGL, labelled as moderate to difficult, is said to be the prettiest trek in India. And, it indeed was! Words are not enough to describe the pristine beauty of this Himalayan fairyland with stretches of meadows dotted with colourful flowers, tall mountains of various shades, blue/green lakes nestled quietly here and there, wild horses lazing around, grazing sheep making the most of all the greens, twinkling streams that appear, disappear, and reappear, and so much more.
In this post, I will write about the lakes. The meadows and the rest will follow in another post.
[Note: I have shared pictures in another post, will share some more and this time with descriptions.]
Peace and Tranquillity at Vishansar Lake
It was Day-3 of the trek, when we encountered Vishansar Lake and it was the first lake of the trek. We had camped at the base of a hill, on the other side of which lay this lake. Vishansar, with its scintillating radiance glimmering in the soft afternoon sun stole my heart at the very first glance and remained my most favourite lake of the trek. It was late afternoon and at that hour the lake appeared a greenish blue with the Kishansar Peak standing tall across the quiet waters.
Situated at an elevation of 3710 m. Vishansar, also known as Vishusar, literally translates as the lake of Lord Vishnu. Fed by Kishansar Lake and many glaciers, it is the main source of Neelam River, which is a tributary of Jhelum River. The lake freezes during winter and is home to many fishes, including the Himalayan Brown Trout. At this time of the year, the month of September, it was surrounded by lush green meadows that provided the perfect pastures to flock of sheep and goat that pass by.
We spent the entire afternoon and evening walking by the side of the lake soaking in the stillness of the quiet valley. The only sound that pervaded this silence once in a while was the bleating of sheep and the whistling of shepherds. The tranquility and calmness appealed to my senses in a way that I can still feel the same when I imagine Vishansar.
As evening crawled in, it started drizzling forcing us to leave the lake side and walk back to our camp.
The Sweet Waters of Kishansar Lake
It was Day -4 and we woke up to a bright day. The sun shone softly, interrupted by occasional clouds and the gloom from the previous evening had disappeared. This was a day of steep ascents and descents. The first stretch of climb led us away from Vishansar, which was a deep blue at this time with the early morning sunshine. Viewing the clear reflections of the Kishansar Peak, from the mountain top made for the start of a very beautiful day.
Soon, we came upon Kishansar which was smaller in size as compared to Vishansar. Most people in our group were satisfied with the far away view we had from the trail. Wanting a closer view, I walked off the trail towards the lake when I spotted a fellow trekmate headed in the same direction. Now there was no stopping and the two of us went up to the shore of the lake.
The sparkling clear waters shining in the morning sun was divine. We felt compelled to cup our hands and drink the water. It was the sweetest water I ever tasted and I couldn’t stop at one. Every sip seemed sweeter than the one before. This is attributed to the oligotrophic nature of these lakes.
[Oligotrophic lakes have low nutrient content resulting in low algal production, and consequently, have very clear waters with high oxygen content that is of high drinkable quality.]
Kishansar literally translates as the lake of Lord Krishna and its divinity is for one to feel. Situated at a height of 3710 m above sea level, Krishnasar is fed by melting glaciers. It outflows to Vishansar Lake and Neelum River. This lake also freezes during winter.
A very steep ascent followed Kishansar that took us up to Gadsar Pass. It was a tough climb but the fascinating view of the twin lakes from the top of the pass was more than worth the trouble. I will let the picture do all the talking here.
The Uneasy Quiet at Gadsar Lake
The wind was blowing hard at Gadsar Pass. After spending a couple of minutes soaking in the spectacular sight that seemed more like a dream than reality, we moved on. Passing through a steep and tricky descent through dry scree, we walked through endless meadows and reached Gadsar Lake.
At an elevation of 3810 m., the spectacular Gadsar looked like a huge bowl of moss green water that was perfectly still. Gadsar literally translates to lake of fishes and it is a natural habitat for trout and other types of fishes. There were tall mountains across the lake where we could clearly see the glaciers with a continuous flow of water towards the lake.
The scene in its entirety was glorious but somewhat intimidating. The lake seemed to be of indefinite depth and it made me feel a little uneasy. Possibly it was the story narrated by our guide warning me not to go down to the lake as I had done at Kishansar. Apparently, Gadsar lake is referred to as lake of death and it is also known as Yemsar, which translates into lake of demons. Locals believe that there lives a huge monster at the lake, which is something like an Octopus that drags creatures with its tentacles. Shepherds refrain from grazing their flocks at the shores of this lake.
Such little anecdotes don’t fail to fascinate me though! And I so love them.
Flocks of Sheep and Goat at Satsar
Crossing an army camp situated atop a hill, we noticed the sparkling colourless waters of a lake lying against the barren mountains. We briefly walked over boulders sharing space with shepherd families, who were migrating and moving out as winter was soon approaching. Just behind us was a flock of 200-300 goats, manned by shepherds and sheep dogs. An equally large flock of sheep was also walking on the flat land right beside the Lake.
This was one of the Satsar Lakes. Satsar literally translates as seven lakes. It is actually a collection of 7 water pools in the narrow alpine valley that are connected to one another through streams. However, we could see only three. Two had dried up as it was the fag end of monsoon. Two lie behind the mountains, not easily accessible though we did plan to attempt it after getting done with lunch at our campsite. However, the Rain Gods decided otherwise and poured their hearts out forcing us to remain in our tents.
All Pervading Divinity at Gangabal Lake
We were in for a visual treat once again from the top of Zajibal Pass. The twin lakes of Gangabal and Nandkol were like two gems of shining sapphire embedded at the base of Harmukh Peak. The backdrop of Harmukh Peak, partially covered by clouds added to the surrealistic character of the moment. Harmukh glacier hung on the rocky edges of the mountain quietly and happily feeding the two lakes.
Each one of us enjoyed the splendour in our own way. Some of us sat quietly soaking in the spectacular sight, some others were capturing the moment in various ways with their cameras. It was a cloudy day and the Pass was really cold, we had to leave sooner than we would have wished to. Besides these two lakes, there were two others almost hidden in the mountain pockets. I noticed them only when they were pointed out to me. These two were greyish black in colour and known as Kalasars.
After a tricky descent through the steep mountain side, we walked beside a stream and came face to face with Gangabal. The shores of Gangabal, named after River Ganges, exuded divinity with the cloud-covered Harmukh Peak looking on. Feeling compelled to experience more of the quietude, I found myself a flat rock, opened my shoes, soaked my feet, and drifted to a different world. While some of my trek mates went on to take a dip in the lake, some others joined me in my reverie.
Gangabal is large at a length of 2.5 Km. and a width of 1.0Km and drains into Sindh River. Locals worship Gangabal and Nandkhol and indulging in a parikrama or a circumambulation seemed to be the most logical thing to do. However, that would easily take an hour and after the long walks that we already had, most of us preferred just sitting down.
Sheer Elegance of Nundkol Lake
A sizzling stream connects Gangabal to Nundkol. We walked from Gangabal, crossed the stream at several place and arrived at Nundkol. At Nundkol the dark clouds hovering around Harmukh Peak gave us a small window to catch a glimpse of the massive mountain.
Nundkol was as elegant as all the other lakes but there were tents dug up all along the shore, which was an eyesore to this scenic place. It was surprising that camping is allowed on the shores of this pristine lake.
Our tents were away from the lake and the following morning I accompanied a fellow trekmate to Nundkol again. Remnants of camping were strewn all around. There was plastic and various kinds of non-degradable items lying at the shore of the lake that really saddened us. We had walked on the other side of the lake the day before and that was cleaner. The sight was so disheartening.
I really wish I could do something, at least collect a few of the garbage but we had already packed and the team was ready to leave, I had no time to do anything. This still makes me feel terribly guilty. I can only hope that the authorities take note of this and camping in the periphery of the lake is completely prohibited.
Picture a meadow that changes colour at every turn as if it has just stepped out from the pages of a storybook – meadows that are lavender, meadows that are red, meadows that are yellow. That’s exactly how it was on that day – colour changing meadows.
We were just getting used to feasting our eyes on these meadows, but until that day it would be stretches of just one colour. Then there were these pockets of yellow, white, maroon, purple, and even a very dark green that would suddenly pop out here and there from the green grass that covered most of the rolling spread.
‘Paradise on Earth’ just seemed so appropriate for this implausible land on earth!
The ornamental and flowery meadows of the Kashmir Great Lakes trek turned out to be a great bonus that came along with the high altitude alpine lakes. Unusual flowers of myriad hues, sizes and shapes splashed all around made for iridescent pastures making me wonder with all seriousness if these were playgrounds of Gods and Goddesses! The kaleidoscopic surroundings pleased my senses and ignited an inner smile that is sure to burn warm for a long time to come.
I don’t know the names of any of these flowers. Our guide was of no help either. He said they are called lavender and red weed – the lavender and the red flowers respectively – surely there has to be better names. He couldn’t help with the local names too.
An interesting thing that needs mention is that the lavender meadows had many different kinds of flowers but all of them were of the same lavender colour. The same was true for the red meadows and the yellow meadows.
I did not click pictures of all the flowers that I came across, which was because of two reasons.
Firstly, it is the handicap of using a phone camera and not having a DSLR or even an ordinary camera.
Secondly, the thought that a picture would do no justice to the sight, smell, and feel of the flowers sufficiently convincing my mind to not click at all.
While I write a detailed post on my experiences of Kashmir Great Lakes, I thought I would post pictures of these delicate beauties and some of you might just be able to help me with their names.
Once again these are unedited mobile photos clicked through iPhone-6.
“You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen.” – Rene Daumal
Nature has that power to enable unburdening of our hearts leading to joyous experiences of inner peace. What better place to experience nature than the higher reaches of glorious mountains! My sincerest gratitude to the mighty Himalayas, to whom I humbly surrender each time I set my foot on them.
Coined from the Sanskrit words of ‘hima’ meaning snow and ‘alaya’ meaning abode, the Himalayas are the loftiest mountain system in the world. With more than 110 peaks rising to elevations of 24,000 ft. (7,300 m.) or more above sea level, the Himalayan Range includes the highest mountains in the world.
My first encounter with the magnificently regal Himalayas happened rather abruptly – one fine day, I randomly decided to go for a trek. It was just an impulse act and I had no clue what high altitude trekking entailed. In fact, I had never trekked anywhere before. I have been a nature-lover forever and that was all I knew. That incident turned out to be the beginning of a new chapter in my life.
I will not hesitate to say that the mountains changed me in ways more than one and I have become a much better person today (at least I’d like to believe so). Many things I do today, I owe to the Himalayas – this blog for instance.
The snow-clad Himalayas are mystical mountains associated with divinity and spirituality. And, I do find the divine in them. They seem like a living-breathing entity to me watching over me, blessing me, and helping me. Possibly, it’s their tall and grandiose appearance or perhaps just the initial intimidation when I look up at them.
I always feel they have a mind of their own. I firmly believe that you can set foot on them only if they allow you do so. You can plan and desire and do what you want but in the end it’s their wish and not yours. With that in mind, I truly feel fortunate and privileged. In the last two years, I have trekked in the Himalayas five times. Without blessings from the majestic mountains, that would have never happened. Each time the mountains ensured that everything worked in our favour, which is especially true with respect to the unpredictable weather.
Earlier this month I discovered the Northern Himalayas as I trekked in Kashmir savouring the gorgeousness of the high altitude glacier-fed alpine lakes. Here are some pictures of Kashmir Great Lakes. I will write a detailed post later.
[All of these are unedited photos clicked through iPhone-6.]
An Accidental Rendezvous with the Gorgeous Waterfall
“I have a request and you can’t say no!” demanded my brother-in-law (BIL).
Now, this was coming from one of my favourite persons in the world and it was his birthday too – how could I say no! BIL declared we would be visiting a lesser known waterfall, situated in a remote corner of East Khasi Hills. Sharing my love for exploring nature, that’s how he wanted to spend his birthday. Driving his new car into the wilderness was an added incitement.
Next morning, armed with a pack of sandwiches and fruits, we set out a little later than planned. The midnight birthday celebrations had extended way into late night and we couldn’t bring ourselves to wake up early in the cold January morning.
Driving early morning through the winding roads, surrounded by lush green pine forests in the hills is as rejuvenating as anybody’s imagination. The sun was up but its gentle morning warmth did little to ease the chill hanging in the air at that hour. Our windows were rolled up and the music was on as we happily and merrily sang along, though interrupted now and then by the birthday wishes that kept pouring in.
Soon we were out of city limits and headed towards the village where the waterfall was located. On the way we stopped at Laitlum to have breakfast at a Kong Shop. [I will write about these shops another time].
Situated 25 Km. away from Shillong, Laitlum is famous for its sprawling green meadows and breathtaking valley. We thought our destination was just 30 min away but a couple of local villagers informed that the road beyond was really bad and it would take us another 3 hours. BIL and I contemplated whether it was a good idea, given that we were already late.
Suddenly, I recalled someone telling me about a waterfall around Laitlum. A quick confirmation from the locals and we decided to explore this place instead. Our original destination was pushed for another time.
The narrow winding road beside the Kong Shop lead to Thangsning village and that’s where Lwai falls, also known as Thangsning falls, is located.
BIL maneuvered his swanky new car meticulously into the narrow village road. The dusty lane with wide open meadows on both sides and a few scantily scattered village homes was an instant dose of excitement and happiness. This is our thing! How much we love such things!
The lane went on for a pretty long distance and there was no indication of any waterfall nearby. There was nobody around whom we could ask. Google was of no help either.
We arrived at an intersection where this winding dusty lane met another similar road. Not knowing what to do, we parked our car here. In just a few seconds, another car arrived and parked in front of us. While I stepped out and started capturing a few pictures, BIL went ahead to talk to the two gentlemen who had also stepped out of their car.
Quite surprisingly, they were also looking for the same waterfall. They were native Khasis and had also come from Shillong. One of them had trekked through the jungle to the waterfall before and they were now trying to figure out the motorable road to it. We decided to join them. This was immensely helpful as they could ask around in the local language.
In a short while, we located the falls. We parked our cars and stepped out into the soothing lush green hills. The gushing sound of water teased us though the falls wasn’t visible yet.
The sun was strong now and the sky a deep blue. A flight of 250 concrete steps took us down to the bottom of the falls and there it was right in front of us the mesmerizing cascading beauty gracefully making its way down into a pool of pure turquoise.
There were two columns of water falling from a height of about 100 feet. The two water columns seemed to be in some kind of a friendly banter as they giggled excitedly hurrying their way down to touch the pool below as though in some kind of a playful competition with each other.
The turquoise pool shone in its sparkling clear water through which peeped rounded yellow pebbles from the bottom of the pool. Rocks of various shapes and sizes lay exposed all around happily soaking in the winter sun making merry as long as the party lasts. Come rains and all of them will be swallowed by the increasing water of the falls.
My excitement knew no bounds and as always a surge of emotions left me speechless. I sat there gaping at the spectacular site and silently conversed with the white falling beauty, the elegant turquoise pool, the perfectly rounded yellow pebbles, and the little platoon of happy rocks.
The unexpected rendezvous with the two gentlemen was a pleasure beyond words. Such fluke meetings don’t ever fail to fascinate me! One of them, Antho Syiem is also an ardent nature lover just like us. In those few minutes, he shared his trekking experiences in the remote corners of Meghalaya.
With great pride he introduced us to his YouTube channel – Sorjah, through which he aims to show glimpses of his gorgeously beautiful homeland, Meghalaya, to the rest of the world. And I feel fortunate to be able to share this feeling of pride.
[Sorjah’s video on Lwai falls can be viewed here. Do check out their other videos as well.]
BIL was elated and his excitement was evident as he slowly and steadily climbed up the steps. With a chronic back problem climbing a continuous flight of stairs is something he would rather avoid but today, he couldn’t stop smiling. And I knew his birthday was made!
A bright and sunny day with sapphire blue skies stretching right through to the horizon is what greeted us that morning. There wasn’t a single cloud in sight. It was spring time in the month of April, hence no surprise. We were camping at the gorgeous Har-ki-Dun valley where we had arrived the day before. The more I talk about this heavenly place, the less it is. For now, I am parking that for another post.
Having an entire day in this valley, gave us the opportunity to hike up further beyond and see a lake called Maninda Taal hidden behind the mountains. Taal refers to lake in the local language. The night before at dinner we had a discussion on the two places that we might want to visit that day – Maninda Taal, located around 3 km from the campsite and Juandhar Glacier at around 10 km from camp site. Most of the votes went for the lake. I wasn’t sure, as I wanted to go to both but on enquiring got to know that wasn’t a possibility.
It was still early in the morning when we started walking up the mountain. It was a steep climb through a loose muddy trail with sparing vegetation. As we neared the top, the gorgeous snow-hooded mountains spearing up to the sky surrounding the valley appeared unusually close. They seemed to be gazing at us scrutinizing each and every move we made. A little ahead, we came upon a place that was covered with fresh snow. The blanket of white seemed unending in every direction and this continued for the rest of the trail with no sight of animals or plants.
The snow fights (throwing snowballs at each other) had already started and it intensified along the way and all hell broke loose when we took a bend and landed onto a mound of snow. This mound was created by an avalanche that must have taken place in the recent past. I for one hadn’t seen such heaps of snow before. It reminded me about those calendar pictures of *Shiva and Parvati sitting in a cloud of snow with Ganesha on their lap.
*Shiva, Parvati, and Ganesha are Hindu deities, Parvati is Shiva’s wife and Ganesha their son with the head of a elephant (Read More).
Everyone was engrossed with snow fights and unconsciously divided ourselves into two teams. We had to reign in ourselves by reminding that the lake was our destination and not the snow fights. We walked across the knee deep snow for some more time while the strong mountain sun continued blazing above us.
Finally, the lake was in sight! And, what a spectacular moment that was! I could feel utter joy surging up my heart. The silvery shining water of the lake lay still with occasional small ripples as though surprised to see the sudden curious onlookers. The gravity of the greyish-blue water was sending out invisible rays of energy that was gently piercing my heart filling me with contentment and happiness. The snow-draped mountains around the lake seemed to understand my feelings and I felt they were graciously smiling with acknowledgement. As my eyes dropped to the water for a deeper look, I noticed how divine and sparklingly clean it was. I was compelled to bend down and feel the water with my bare hands.
As I looked up from my cupped hands, my gaze moved a little beyond and fell upon the tall wall of a mountain that appeared to be on one corner of the lake. I could see our trek guide sliding down the snow from the top. How did he reach there! This was an adrenalin rush and I knew I had to go there too.
After spending a few more moments beside the lake and capturing some of it through my mobile lens, I started walking toward the tall grand mountain wall that seemed to be eagerly reaching out for the heavens above. A few people joined in. My sister, who was on this trek with me, also came along. Going over to the tall mountain wasn’t all easy as the snow was really deep. It was only with help and support from my fellow trekkers that I could make it there.
We walked up the mountain wall and then sitting on our water proof jackets, using them as props did a slide down. And, oh what fun that was! Some of us repeated the act several times as we slid individually and slid in small groups together with others. We captured videos for one another, clicked photos, and laughed our hearts out!
After all the fun and laughter, it was time to go. Bidding goodbye to the charming lake that exuded such elegance and grace was not easy. I felt I could just keep staring at her for the rest of my life.
Maninda Taal, I remember you with fond memories that I will cherish for the rest of my life. Lots of love to you…..
I stepped out of my room and looked up at the sky. The moon shone brilliantly and looked like a perfectly rounded sphere of white radiance sailing in the cloudless night. Millions of twinkling stars accompanying the moon seemed to be looking at me knowing exactly what I was thinking.
We were spending the night at Nongriat in a homestay, which was right next to the double root bridge – a bridge that epitomizes the harmonious blend of Nature’s abundance and Man’s hard work. Braving 3600 steps, we had arrived at Nongriat earlier that day.
Later that night, we befriended four travellers staying at the homestay. Gautam and Om were from Mumbai and were biking in the North East while Rajat and Ashwin were solo travellers. Rajat came from Delhi and Ashwin all the way from the city of Mysore in the South. I was with two of my cousin sisters and we were exploring our own home state. Our destination for the next day was Rainbow Falls and we decided to go there together as a team. Our guide, Droning was quite amused to find the three sisters multiply into this little army in just a few hours. Droning lives in Nongriat and is a young 15-year-old lad, who is preparing to appear for his school final this year.
Next day started early for us. We were up by 5.30 AM and left the homestay at 6.00 AM with our newly found acquaintances. The sun wasn’t up yet but the skies looked clear. Soon, we found ourselves crossing a shaky iron bridge that threatened to throw us off as it swayed to and fro while we crossed it one foot at a time. We had encountered such bridges the day before as well, but I for one was still not used to them and could feel my knees quiver. This particular one was worse as the iron was rusted in places. After a while, we crossed another root bridge and the root bridges are so much more stable!
The sound of running water of the falls teased us for a long while as we continued walking and expected to see it at every turn but the falls kept eluding us. Then, in a flash it suddenly emerged from the thick green envelope. There it was! Rainbow Falls – a hidden treasure in the deep jungles of Cherrapunjee, Meghalaya. The mighty roaring water was spectacular leaving us transfixed for a moment.
I stared at it from the top of the hill for a while before convincing myself that this was not a dream. Only then, was I able to descend the final flight of steps towards the falls. As I looked on, I noticed the enormous force of the water as it pounded its way right into the pool below. The pool was a brilliant sparkling blue and looked serene and calm, unaffected by the torrents of water pounding on it with such great force.
The sun was just about making its way through the tall hills around the falls. So, we would have to wait a while to see the rainbow that appears on the falls. It’s this permanent rainbow across the falls that makes it unique and gives it the name.
I found myself a comfortable seating area from where I could view the falls in its entirety. One of my sisters joined me. The rest were already making their way down through the huge formidable boulders. We watched them go down. Two of the guys couldn’t control their urge and very soon plunged into the crystal clear blue waters of the pool below. The water was so clear that we could see right through into the pebbles at the bottom.
The dazzling blue water was too inviting. My sister could hold herself no longer and decided to climb down. The huge boulders intimidated me and I wasn’t sure. It’s my short height that limits me, shaking my confidence at such times, as I know my legs will not reach out to all places. I felt quite comfortable where I was but my sister insisted. Soon, Droning was summoned to give me a hand and help me navigate my way down to the blue pool.
Down below, the falls was magnificent but at the same time terrifying and unnerving. I stood there for a while watching the rest of my gang braving the chill and swimming and wading in the water. At one point all of them climbed up a huge boulder that had a ladder against it for a closer view of the falls. I wasn’t able to muster the courage.
Another sparkling green pool of water amidst huge rocks and boulders glistened in the morning sun and lay quietly away from the falls. While the others went towards that, I decided to go back to my comfort place and again not without Droning’s help. One of my sisters and Rajat joined me too.
We chatted and waited patiently for another hour and a half as the sun’s rays slowly descended down the falls. The rest settled in a place down below after they had their fill of exploring and posing for photographs of kinds. We didn’t know at what point the rainbow would appear and every now and then imagined seeing colours when there weren’t any.
And when the rainbow actually appeared, we literally shrieked in unison. It was so sudden that I felt as if an invisible fairy godmother had touched it with her magic wand. We reveled in the enigmatic beauty of Mother Nature for a while.
It was almost 10.30 AM. A few more people had now started coming in and it was time for us to leave.
In our anticipation of the rainbow, we had forgotten that we had missed breakfast. Having been up for more than 4 hours with quite a bit of physical activity, our stomachs had started growling. The girls had meticulously packed in a few bread slices from our Homestay the night before. The boys had none. The food was far from sufficient and we still had a long way to go. We had decided not to go back to Nongriat, instead follow a jungle trail that goes straight to Cherrapunjee.
We had already invited trouble, just that we were still unaware…. (Continued)