The sleepy hamlet of Lepchajagat is an idyllic holiday spot and offers complete isolation from heckling hoteliers.

Amidst all the speculations and controversies about the tumultuous political condition of the Darjeeling hills in the Indian state of West Bengal, we started off for Lepchajagat, around 16km away from Darjeeling.

The train, as expected, took half an hour more to reach New Jalpaiguri, commonly known as NJP, and the pathetic condition of Hillcart Road forced us to change our estimation. But we refused to complain since whatever we had planned in Lepchajagat involved complete ‘non-activity’.

The sleepy serene hamlet offers complete isolation from heckling hoteliers and those tight-scheduled sightseeing tours invariably associated with a Darjeeling trip.

Getting a good night’s sleep in the train has always been a problem for me. So just when I was getting a bit drowsy inside the bus, the loud shouts of the conductor rudely shook me out of my nap. We disembarked at Ghoom and found it wrapped in its trademark mist. There were no taxis around, so we were preparing to wait for the Sukhia bound bus, but luckily a Maruti van emerged out of the fog and a quick bargain later we were off towards Lepchajagat.

The surroundings changed almost magically. The unplanned commercial and urban settlements that tend to crowd the hilly slopes in an ugly manner disappeared, giving way to the sky-high ‘dhupi’ and hemlock trees, and as we moved ahead they were more dense in number. The 8km road finished in a jiffy, and a short by-lane from the main road took us into some more thick foliage and to our destination, the Lepchajagat forest rest house, maintained by West Bengal forest Development Corporation.

Unfortunately, it started to rain almost immediately. So after freshening up, we ordered inevitably for khichudi (a meal made of rice). The kitchen staff seemed to have anticipated our request so that despite their usual laidback style they managed everything in the next one hour. After a refreshing lunch, a stroll through the forest path around the rest house would have been ideal.

However the shower outside ensured we stayed confined to the rest house. So we huddled inside our quilts and went for the next best thing possible, a siesta.

After the fresh shower, the midsummer evening closed in with a chill strong enough to make our teeth chatter. So I piled on every piece of warm clothing I had packed and made my way to the terrace and what I saw was absolutely breathtaking.

The entire Darjeeling town, just on the opposite hill, with all its glitzy lights was dazzling like a diamond in the dark. The stars were also shining bright in a clear sky and at an elevation of 7000ft, I felt I could touch the stars. Tamang, manager of the rest house also predicted ‘Kal to bahut accha dikhega’, which basically meant we could see a great view of the mighty Mount Kanchendzonga, the world’s third tallest peak, the next day.

The next morning we woke up around 4:30 am, beating even the local birds. It was still dark and the rolling hills and surrounding foliage looking their surreal best. The deafening silence also accentuated the mystery.

Slowly the sun came out and as soon as the crimson rays fell on the Kanchendzonga range, the magic begun. The next 30 minutes or so was our turn to get mesmerised by the amazing beauty of the mighty Himalayas. Slowly the snow peaks turned from pink to orange to gold and then the whole range came out in dazzling white attire.

The Kanchendzonga, Kabru, Kumbhakarna—all were tantalisingly close, looking ethereal against a clear blue sky. No matter how many times one may have watched this spectacular sight, one is always spellbound by the glory of unprecedented beauty. We stood transfixed there, watching this absolutely breathtaking phenomenon. So it was once again up to Tamang to show some of his managerial skills and bring us out of our reverie. He announced our bed tea was getting cold.

After a lazy Sunday brunch, we set out for Mirik. Buses that ply regularly between Darjeeling and Mirik, via Lepchajagat. We got into one such bus. I have always believed as long as you don’t mind being crowded by the local people, bamboo baskets and kerosene cans, a bus journey is always more vibrant than one in a hired car. We got the seat beside the driver, who incidentally turned out to be quite a friendly guy.

We had a nice chat going, till some steep climb and sharp bends later, Sukhia made him concentrate on his driving. The road to Mirik runs mainly through forest area, with some scattered villages en route.

Glimpses of life weren’t missing though in those remote villages. And the bright sunshine had prompted the kids come out on the road with their footballs, and the music lovers to strum on their guitar sitting beside the road.

Mirik Lake was a disappointment. The lake is not breathtakingly beautiful. The waterfront and the bridge that spans the lake badly need a facelift. The entire town was teeming with weekend tourists and the shacks beside the lake were doing brisk business during the high season. We meandered aimlessly alongside the lake, savouring delicious momos (dumplings) and then returned back to Lepchajagat.

Once again the next morning, we woke up early in the morning expecting another breathtaking sunrise. However, that was not to be. We found Lepchajagat in a totally different mood. It was draped in thick fog and visibility was almost zero.

So instead of going to the terrace and marvelling at snow peaks, I chose to ramble around the village, and slowly realised that Lepchajagat with its misty mood is even more attractive than on a sunny day.

With the thick fog around, the rustle of leaves, shrill cry of an unknown bird, or yell of a kid here and there were creating an even more surreal effect than usual. I felt I could wander around for hours till the rain came down, forcing me to run for shelter.

We returned to the plains via Darjeeling that day, but well before reaching Siliguri, I realised I would have to come back to Lepchajagat for another tryst with nature.

It’s really a wonder how could this place, a mere 16 kms away from Darjeeling, has been able to keep its pristine beauty alive. Maybe it’s due to the emergence of Lava-Lolaygaon as a more popular tourist destination that’s ensured Lepchajagat remains out of the usual tourist track. If that is the case, then it certainly is a blessing in disguise for nature lovers. (By ANIRBAN DAS In Lepchajagat/ The Statesman/ AsiaNews)