Sikkim has been gaining importance as a destination of interest on the tourist map. The year-round cool climate is the major attraction for holiday makers from across the arid and tropical plains of India. Gangtok, the capital, with its clean and prim roads, bazaars and viewing points is enticing. Only a couple of hours’ drive takes one to the beautiful and placid lake of Tsomgo (Chhangu) that stays frozen in winter. Up the trail, the road leads to the historic Nathu La (pass) — the opening of which in recent years and the merchandise being sold there by Chinese traders from across the border — has been a hit with tourists.
The Valley of Flowers up north in Yumthang is a place of exquisite beauty. In spring there is a riot of colours all around with the ground full of Primula flowers and Rhododendrons in all hues blossoming. Gurudongmar lake at an altitude of about 1,700 ft, is Sikkim’s answer to the Tso Moriri of Ladakh, and offers vistas that are equally magnificent. Views of the Kanchendzonga from Peling are breathtaking on a clear sunny morning.
This small, sparsely populated State has so much natural beauty around every bend of the road that it is impossible to list them all.
My association with the state is special as my wife is from Gangtok. The mandatory annual trip to the in-laws’ place turns into a joyous holiday. During the dozen or more trips I have made to Sikkim since we got married, I have been able to travel to most of the tourist destinations in the State and many off-beat locations, and have fallen in love with the place. So much so that my wife sometimes mentions that it is me who is always more eager and excited to visit her home State than she herself is — which is a fact.
The view that remains etched in my memory of my first trip to Gangtok is the winding Teesta on the way. Gangtok is accessed by road from the nearest airport in Siliguri. This 120-km long ghat road that takes one from the plains of West Bengal to Gangtok that is at 5,000 ft travels along the Teesta — alternately to its left or right — for the most part as it criss-crosses the river a few times.
One gets a clear view of the river after about half an hour of travelling away from Siliguri. As you look down from the road, about 100 metres below is an expanse of water that is pristine turquoise in colour, flanked by white sands.
The turquoise colour is what caught my attention when I first saw it back in 2002. I stopped and got down from the vehicle and looked in awe at the beauty that was the river. I had never seen water so clear and of such a hue. Since then, I have always looked forward to the first glimpse of the Teesta and the subsequent views of the river on every trip along that road. I presume many travellers to Sikkim must have had similar experiences and must have gained immense pleasure looking at this beauty in all its glory.
A couple of years back, while on my way to Gangtok, I saw the first signs of activity along the banks of the river some distance from Siliguri as earthmoving equipment was at work. I was told that a hydel project is coming up at the site; work had just begun. In the subsequent years, I saw more vigorous work being carried out and the green mountain slopes on the other side of the river receding as the work progressed, turning them into unsightly mounds of earth and stone. From that point downstream, the water of the Teesta was muddy and brown. Most of the river till Gangtok, though, remained intact.
Last year, as I reached the spot I saw the dam almost complete with the sluice gates down and devastation all around. The river was only a trickle downstream. Up the dam site, the reservoir was being formed; it will feed the turbines eventually.
Further up the road, there is a bridge that crosses the river, the Teesta bridge. Everytime I pass the bridge, I would get down from the car and enjoy the view on both sides as the river flows in colourful currents between the mountains and the Teesta village below. This time when I stopped at the bridge, there was almost no river. Instead there was a muddy stagnant waterbody. The Teesta didn’t flow anymore.
While the disadvantages of hydel projects in the fragile Himalayan eco-system, especially in the light of the Kedarnath disaster, are being debated, my limited concern is to see the Teesta in its turquoise splendour. It used to bring a smile on to the face of the tired traveller, or a line of poetry on the lips of the folk singer.
ashim.dey@gmail.com
