a tiger tale

darjeeling is an old crossroad. for centuries its dark dank staircases have echoed with the footfalls of myriad people going up the mountains, running away from occupied tibet, coming down from the mountains and the odd nutjob just passing through. and if you ever sift through the primordial sea that flows in and out of darjeeling with every tourist season, you'll agree there is no lower more despicable form of life than the bong tourist.

bongs ask each other, bedecked in garish woolens - gloves, mufflers, sweaters and the ubiquitous monkey cap, "chowmein kaabe?" the locals scoff at the sheer crassness of the hordes, refering to them in a cheeky take as 'the tuurists'. bongs either don't care or they're too obtuse to care. so they plunder on, in their tour bus upwards to tiger hill, while the rest of the world chooses to take the picturesque walk.

every dawn atop tiger hill bongs live the maxim that they are generally obnoxious. while everybody else looks westwards in hushed wispers at dawn, waiting for the kanchenjunga to set itself ablaze in the first rays of the sun refracting through the earth's atmosphere much before the sun itself makes an appearance, the bong twats look eastward over stoves of boiling tea and to the accompaniment of raunchy bollywood hits belted out on the over bassed system of their tour bus. and even as on the western edge of tiger hill, seasoned travelers with their weather beaten faces watch awestruck as an entire mountain seemingly in midair turns an azure gold, the bongs choose to dance and whistle when the sun makes another routine appearance much later on in the east. it's a chasm that all bong pretensions to being cultured will never bridge.

fresh air among other things messes your noodles up. while the odd mountaineer is pushed to try and assail the unassailable, common tourists who've been breathing the air for a bit, show certain unmistakable signs of pleasant eccentricity too. one german took to climbing tiger hill day after day in a seemingly pointless routine. and when he tired of that, he took off to bangladesh. to catch the general elections and the ensuing chaos. the local folk smile wide toothy unaffected grins into cameras. the sun plays hide & seek all day plunging darjeeling into alternating cycles of pristine chill and sunny optimism.

everytime i've traveled, i'm met with the certainity that there is a simpler truth to life that still needs discovering. that afternoon in the one room eatery enroute to tiger hill, as i watched pearly stuff herself with another vegetable momo and browne make a finer point on ducks, swans and annoying birds in general, i knew i was one step closer.