A night at the snobbish Planters Club, English breakfast at Keventers’ rooftop, followed by a boat ride on a misty Mirik lake. There’s more in the itinerary...

slabs, to the cottages. We spent two nights there. One night we had a fire outside and we were given a lovely room with a poster bed. John and his wife got another room, Kim slept on the couch outside. John (I forget his wife’s name) were a British couple in their fifties. He was a bird watcher. I remember a walk somewhere where he was plucking out his binoculars from his bermudas every now and then and there were some great colorful birds on that trip, in that region, in that time.

Outside the house there was a little space where the five of us would eat dinner. The food was really spicy and I ate many green chilies. At night, we would stare and gaze at the stars. I have never seen so many stars and so clearly.

At night, after we had all said good night we would read poems from my mother’s book “Speaking Shiva”. The lady with me and I commit to memory all of that. We drank rum and coke and Kim was a good host. The mists of Jogmaya were spellbinding.

Then we came to Darjeeling town where we stayed at the Planters Club. It was a huge double room and old-fashioned like The Great Eastern Hotel but like all British elitist clubs, it was snobbish. We were guests of Kim with destinies cradled well with

ARJEELING was a dream that came and left but never came again. Like all things, the anticipation was missing and I was once again caught between a very beautiful woman crazy about me, on one hand, and my self-created walls of defence.

My recollection of Darjeeling is fairly vivid. The flight back from there was full of fun and laughter and we sat at the end of the airplane, it was my show. I had all her eyes on me and I was taking the Mickey out of the airhostesses and playing the fool. The airport served us very good chicken cutlets.

The flight left us in Bagdogra, which was a little quaint cute airport. On the way up, I recall hills that were full of mist. I had never seen or imagined such hillsides. It was a beautiful, pic turesque drive. We stopped at the railway tracks for a long time; they were smaller and were meant for the toy train.

I had no idea how well the holiday had been planned by my friend Kim. First destination was Jogmaya. The taxi dropped us on the main road and we walked 10 minutes down grey steps, or stone

time. Then my lady, described as porcelain, was to become my wife.

The club, as all British Bengal clubs, had a common room, a billiards room, a cloak room and a bridge room. I just remember peaking into them, we were full of life so it is believable that we took a shot or two, but yet so self contained that we did not. I do not remember eating there but I would bet my last Shelling there was a Chinese room in that long double-storied, vintage greenroofed Planters Club.

We used to go across the street to Keventers to have breakfast.

God forgive me for showing off and indulgence of the third degree, but the fixed menu was thus; bacon, sausages and ham and you could have two of three.

We always thought which one was it going to be today as we stood befuddled before the old rickety wooden counter where fresh bread and patisserie was sold. Bacon was my favourite and then came sausages but I recall eating the slices of ham as well one morning. We were there every morning for all the three days. It is without doubt the best breakfast that I have had. Of course, at the Australian High Commission where I stayed, breakfast in bed was not much different. At Keventers then they

served you fresh bread and butter and coffee followed by a Marlboro Red that was the best part.

Now in those days, life was up in the air. Alas, for the past 10 years I have not enjoyed the pleasures of a smoker. We would be looking at the Kanchendzonga and hogging away, the funny thing was that for the love of God or the fear of him, I have quit all of this. That morning she woke me up to come and see the great Kanchendzonga, I hated the idea of waking up early but I did reluctantly saw the mountain.

She was a nature girl then I was not Tarzan boy, she was very excited by the prospect of seeing the mountain and showing it to me. I saw it. I said great and happily plinked into bed and slept again.

The Darjeeling zoo, I recall, we got there just in time at 5 pm to see the white tiger. What was she wearing to see the white tiger? What did she think she was? She had white trousers and a green sweater. What did the white tiger think of her? I am told the white tiger left the world, as we left that evening very far behind.

We also visited the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute set up by Tenzing Norway and Edmund Hillary. I recall that evening and seeing Adolf Hitler’s telescope.

The zoo and the institute are side by side.

Then we came to Mirik which is a poet’s land and a lover’s paradise. Since I was the latter, it was poetic that much I could gauge even then. She had given me two books; the poems of Pablo Neruda and the translations of Omar Khyaam by Edward Fitzgerald. She said I was a great writer and thinker. I was a troubled soul! When we got to Mirik, I was a trifle depressed because it was raining. The cottage was two stories and a class act. I was bedazzled by the woodwork all over, and we were in the middle of the woods with rain and greenery outside, and very cosy inside.

Way beyond was the Mirik lake but that first day, we stayed indoors and read some Leo Tolstoy. When we went to the lake, it was like an experience out of this world. Truly mystical and mysterious like time. We took boats to the lake. There are hills forests that cradle the lake town. The lake was so excessively enveloped by mist that we could not see each other and it was delightful stuff! I recall an image of magical reality, a white horse through the veil of the envel oping mist swiftly galloping around the lake.