Anecdotes From Morshing: Chapter 1

In the deafening silence of a cold wintery night

I let my mind wander as my thoughts take a flight.

To a faraway land so quiet and remote

It only gets more vivid as I scribble another anecdote.

Had Never Heard Of Morshing Until…

¹

It’s the month of July, perhaps the most dreadful time. I lost a big chunk of my heart, my little Haachu (my soul dog). I had never seen grief up-close until now. It’s been a couple of weeks hiding from the world and nothing seemed to pull me out of the torment. If there’s any place that might have helped me heal, would definitely be the mountains for that is where I and my child belonged, to the mountains of the Lama land. I needed a journey to mend my broken soul and the universe helped by leading me yet again to a lesser-known hamlet in the Eastern Himalayas of Kalaktang …Morshing found me when I needed it the most.

i walk a lonely road, without a soul around. An immersive hike from Shergaon to Morshing

I planned on going to Shergaon since quite a few friends had written about it especially during the Rhodo festival. But maps somehow are my game changers. I saw a road diverging from the main highway to a town nestled in the wilderness, it said Morshing. The urge to go off the mainstream routes always gets the better of me and no matter how daunting the idea seems on the surface, deep down when you indulge in your travel fantasy world there’s nothing more satisfying to explore a place that no one told you about or has even been explored for that matter. There was one homestay that showed up on google, did some frantic searches for shared sumo services from Balipara,and hence began my journey to Morshing.

DAY 1

finally taking off after an hour long wait at Balipara, Assam

As told by the Sumo guy, I reached the Balipara Chawk unerringly at 6 am. On spotting no vehicle around, i called up the driver who sounded like he was forced out of his deep slumber. ‘ Thoda sa wait karega madam, 7 baje tak aayega na’ he quipped from the other end. I felt like I was in a movie scene with drama unfolding when a sudden burst of showers made me run with my backpack to find some shelter. A sleepy local dhaba was gearing up for the day and I told the man to get me a Laal Chai ( assamese black tea) . The owner, who didn’t look like a local, was bossing around the waiter in a not so very affable manner. I drowned myself in the book to fritter time away and not think too much about the rude owner.

as green as it could get…the road from Balipara to Bhalukpong bathed in green

Finally an hour later I grabbed myself the front seat with two other male co passengers in the back. The driver puts a plastic and canvas sheet on the carrier on top to prevent our bags from getting drenched. It’s pouring mad by now and I wonder if it’s a good sign. The sumo trudges along the countryside, swishing by the paddy fields that have seemed to turn greener as the rains bathe them in paletes of monsoon, intermittently crossing tunnels of orchids hanging by the giant old trees loaded with Ferns of all kinds. I was getting out of home after three long months and the damp air outside already filled up my senses. I felt like I was watching a movie all along with people on the road playing a plethora of characters. Somewhere short of Bhalukpong, the driver slowed down as the rain slashed grudgingly against the windscreen turning us partially blind. A couple probably in their 40s sat on the bamboo stools in their verandah sipping on their morning tea in those Assam Type Houses, the walls of which were yet to be painted. The undulated cement grey colors stood in stark contrast to Supari trees that dotted their courtyard. It was a humble abode, but it looked whimsical. I wondered if they ever felt stressed living in such calming environs but then i thought of someone assuming the same about me seeing me travel recklessly around the grain of the country like I had no care in the world. Little would they know how desperate I was i to run away from my misery. Struggles are universal and no one ever had it easy after all. suddenly savan mein lag gayi aag blaring on high volume obstructed my thoughts and I realized we’d left the crowded littered town of Bhalukpong far behind. 

Dhabas with a view like that…. something about the bridges in the mountains

So much like my Haachu ….

A little short of Tenga the driver decided to stop for breakfast. There was a small dhaba made out of bamboo probably run by his family, for he unloaded a lot of ration. A beautiful suspension bridge called me out across the road. It lead to a village on the hilltop. I saw a young man fishing on the river bank, probably his supper for the day. Two little mutts trailed behind me, one of them a black and white, just like my Haachi. A lot of ParleGs munching and coochi cooing later, our sumo made its way to Rupa.

STUCK AT RUPA

funny what I was reading was what I was going through that moment

the waiting game is never easy for patience aint my virtue

I was dropped off at the bridge leading to Rupa market where I’d have to hunt for a shared sumo up to Shergaon. Thereafter i was on my own. Though the homestay host at Morshing had told me to contact him incase i didn’t find any commute but I was determined to do those 18 kms on my own. The heart craved for an adventure like never before and perhaps a story to take back home. I whiled away an hour and a half, sitting under a big tree waiting for the sumo only to find out it was jam packed and had no room. The locals told me to ask another sumo who was going to deliver commodities in Shergaon. So, the online deliveries were made only in Rupa owing to its good connectivity and people relied on sumo drivers to deliver their commodities and rations and even atm transactions. If a town like Shergaon that was bang on the highway was so far away from development, I wondered how primitive Morshing would be. I couldn’t wait to find out but sigh when you’re curious about something, the universe makes you wait even longer, probably to make your surprise a tad sweeter.

the route from Rupa to Shergaon is nothing short of a fairytale. if only I had my cycle here

The sumo driver was a Nepali from Darjelling who kept telling me ‘bas abhi thodi der mein niklega’ and those few minutes turned out to be an hour long wait. I plonked myself on the back seat and buried myself in the book. The road wound along the boisterous river and the forest on either side of the smooth highway made the breeze nice and nippy. I along with the Nepali driver and a schoolgirl and of course a dozen sacks of onions and rice, salt and cartons drove past the emptiness that felt so full and complete. Every time he delivered the supplies, the people would give him a 100 or 200 Rs note, and he would come back to the sumo smiling asking me ‘ Akele kaise ghumta hai madam, Morshing kaise jaayega’

not a big fan of selfies but you’ve got to have pictures of moments like these for in the end it is the memories that’s all you’ve got.

I finally said goodbye to him around 3 pm and assured him I’d be safe. He even called up a friend of his who was to drive from Rupa to Morshing later in the evening. I still remember the concern in his tone ‘Arey thoda pehle nikal jaao na, madam akela kaise jaayega’ I find myself grinning ear to ear while typing this. God bless him!

With butterflies in my stomach, bones that have rusted over the last couple of months yet a fearless heart, I set out on my journey finally. Eighteen kms on the road seldomly taken, just me and my rucksack like old times. 

intimidating yet so inviting! the road that’s always made the difference

The cicadas hummed from the deep dark oblivion.

The feeble sun gave way to the clouds again

I fear not the unknown, for its the road not taken.

That’s unfailingly helped me meet myself, at the end of the lane.

Morshing had the most beautiful surprise waiting for me. all about that in the following blog post.

Here’s a little teaser below

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CvfRx5Eg0R_/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

Things You Need To Know While Planning A Trip To Morshing

Inner Line Permit

An inner line permit is required for Indian (domestic) tourists’ entry into Arunachal Pradesh. you can download the form from Arunachal portal and apply for ilp at arunachalilp.com.

Homestays In Morshing

I stayed at Kunphen Homestay at Morshing with Mr Lobsang and had a wonderful time with his family and school. He also takes you around and explains the historical and cultural significance of the places in his and the neighboring villages of Dumkho and Sanglem.

Mr Lobsang’s contact details: 9402708518

How To Travel To Morshing

So, there are two routes.

1. From Tezpur/Balipara to Rupa via Bhalukpong
2. From Rowta To Kalaktang via Sheragon

for both the routes shared Sumos are available. Buses also ply on these routes, however their regularity is questionable. I had taken a shared sumo from Balipara to Rupa and it cost me Rs 500. Thereafter another sumo from Rupa to Shergaon cost me about 300. I hitchhiked my way through Shergaon to Morshing but if you find that idea too adventurous for your liking you can request the host to tie up a commute for you. Though I really urge you to walk that route and hitch a ride with the locals. It’s worth all the few minutes of discomfort.

Phone Network At Morshing

Only BSNL works at Morshing and that too provided there’s no power cut in the village. Unfortunately, or rather fortunately there was a two-day long power cut while I was there and I stayed blissfully disconnected from the world.