The man in the trench coat with the weather beaten face was oblivious to the gaze of over a hundred pairs of eyes. The well worn trench coat seemed a little out of place this time of year, but he couldn’t care less. He was lost in his music as he played an indigenous two string musical instrument and sang his own version of Bhupen Hazarika’s “Moi Ati Jajabor.”

He sang in a soulful manner – his stage was the roof of a jam packed ferry in the middle of Brahmaputra River and the audience were the everyday commuters and a few Europeans tourists.

We were crossing the Brahmaputra River to get to Majuli Island. The island is a World Heritage site in Assam and is the largest river island in Asia. The island is indeed unique with its own culture and tradition. But getting to the island is another unique experience in itself! My two friends – Alex, Anuj and I, rode our fully loaded motorcycles into the ferry through a thick plank of wood.

We were early and had the ferry to ourselves but in the next hour it filled up to the brim. Two SUVs took up most of the space in the deck and the crew started shifting some of the 50 odd bikes to the roof of the ferry! A cart load of TV sets came in as did some more large bundles. And the final passengers in the ferry were a herd of goats and a few cows! There was an elephant on the bank of the river and I half expected that to come in too!!

It takes 2 hours to get to the island and after an hour or so, the tea vendor did the rounds, serving black tea in tiny plastic cups with too much sugar in it and an assortment of local biscuits that tasted wonderful.

Majuli is the seat of Vaishnavite culture in Assam. There are some very old monasteries on the island. Some of them like the Dakhin Pat Satra and the Uttar Kamalabari Satra were built somewhere during the 1500 and mid 1600 AD. The Auniati Monastery also has an in-house museum.

We spent a few hours at the Samuguri Satra to see the masks. Hem Chandra Goswami and his immediate ancestors have been making the masks for the last 100 years or so. These masks are used in the theatres that are held all over Assam and over the years, they have become better.

Majuli is facing serious soil erosion. The island had a total area of 1250 square kilometres but now only about 500 square kilometres remain.

Left to right
1. Sunset at Majuli Island
2. Fogged out!!
3. Women do the bulk of the road construction on the Bomdila -Tawang road
4. The Masked Rider!!
5. Impossibly blue sky at Sela top
6. Maize under the roof is a common sight
7. Young monks at the prayer inside Tawang Monastery
8. From the ferry in the middle of Bhramaputra River
9. Children at work below Sela Pass

Although we checked in at Danny Gam’s beautiful bamboo house on stilts, we spent the second night by the river in out tents. Except for the irregular crackling sound of the firewood and the rhythmic lapping of the river, there was an all encompassing silence. The river sparkled like a thousand diamonds in the velvet night and as I looked up, I saw the stars punch a million holes in the dark canopy.

Across the river again. We had to cross a rather long and flimsy bamboo bridge and it sure was a little scary. Across the bridge was a little shed which was the toll booth (yes, we had to pay a toll of Rs.20 per bike!)

We rode on till we came across a capsized ferry and then found that there wasn’t any ferry plying to Lakhimpur. There were only small country boats plying across the narrowest part of the river and they looked rather unstable.

It was the scariest 30 minutes of my life! The bikes were heavily loaded and the boat rolled like a pendulum. Well, we made it to the other side and I said, never again!

After about riding an hour through narrow village road, we hit a lovely highway at North Lakhimpur and made our way to Nameri Eco camp at Tezpur. The Eco camp is way off the main road and inside a village and it is just fantastic.

The river behind the Eco Camp draws a large number of anglers for the huge Masher and the jungle is a bird watcher’s delight.

Early next morning we were at the police checkpoint at Bhalukpong, the border town between Assam and Arunachal Pradesh. Formalities of Inner Line Permits over, we push onwards to Dirang – 145 kilometres away from the border.

It is just a bamboo barricade that separates the two states, but there is a world of difference in the people, houses, culture and topography.

It had rained the previous night and the freshly cut road was a total mess. Vehicles of all description were stuck and it resulted in a huge jam. And we were the worst off. In the shin deep mud, there was no way we could put on the side stand and so we carried on, slipping and slithering, till we came across some firm ground.

Thankfully we hit better roads and at Durga Mandir, the small tea shop beckoned. The fog at Zero Point delayed us for 30 minutes. Visibility improved after some kilometres and from atop the Nag Mandir, the view was simply breathtaking. We swept down the lovely road to the cantonment town of Tenga, crossed the army areas and started climbing again towards Bomdila. It was close to sundown and we stayed at the Monastery Guest House at Bomdila, 45 kms short of Dirang.

Bomdila to Tawang is 180 kms and it is a long distance in such terrains and we still had the Sela Pass to cross. After a quick stop at the Dirang Dzong, we continued to ride. 20 kilometres after Dirang, the wind suddenly picked up and snowflakes started falling. I have ridden in snow before but the three of us have never been so miserable and cold in all our life! The snow gradually got thicker and at Baishaki, it was simply impossible to go on and we returned to Dirang.

When the road opened, there was hardly any traffic on the route. At the top of Sela Pass, a woman runs a tea stall. In that howling wind at 13,700 ft, the hot tea and noodles tasted out of this world and filled us with warmth. We bid our goodbyes and started on our way down to Tawang. The Sela Lake froze over and looked like an ice hockey rink.

The skies were turning dark again and we hurried on after some more tea at the War Memorial at Jaswant Garh.

Like in all other Buddhist towns, a colourfully decorated gate welcomed us into town. It is the time of the Losar festival and the locals sure were in a festive mood. We also noticed that His Holiness, The Dalai Lama is omnipresent.

It starts snowing again as we checked into the hotel and it snowed till midnight. I have never seen the Tawang Monastery covered in snow and for once, the bright yellow roofs were replaced with the powdery white of fresh snow.

A senior monk gave us a guided tour of the monastery. It is said to be the biggest monastery after the Potala Palace in Lhasa. The museum contained relics from the 5th Dalai Lama’s period and a huge elephant tusk – looked more like a mammoth’s tusk to me!

We sat at the silent and empty prayer hall with a huge statue of the Buddha. The monk gave us cups of butter tea and we were discussing our planned departure the next day and how far and how fast we should travel. I looked up to the statue and I felt that Buddha was smiling at us. Good omen I thought.

That night it snowed heavily and completely blocked off everything. There was nothing we could do but sit tight. The bar tender of the hotel invited us over for dinner on the second night for some simple food peppered with much love.

We had wanted to go to Bumla but the snow ruled that out. When the road opened after three days, we crawled along with the rest of the convoy and covered 145 kilometres in 14 hours.

Lying in bed that night I realised, we were rather brash and pompous in declaring our schedule. We thought we could beat the bad weather at the Pass with our speed. The Buddha had smiled at our brashness and I know better now.