The Tale of Three Tribes

Prologue

Without any conscious reason, our book hunting in Calcutta Book Fair 2016 was different. Somehow we bypassed our favourite literature stalls, well, mostly. The focus shifted to travel and anthropology. Perhaps our Sikkim trip in January, with its raw and fresh memories, played a role.

We picked up "The Tribes of West Bengal" by Dhirendra Nath Baskey, which gives a nice introduction to primary tribes of our state with a focus to Austric tribes. We found Chumki Piplai's title, which allows us to take a peek at one of the most primitive tribes of our country - Jarwa. We bought Narayan Sanyal's "Dandak Shabari" that introduces us to the Austric tribes like Maria, Muria, Shabar, and Gond in Central India.

But the most valuable surprise came at the stall of The Asiatic Society, where we discovered "Kirata Jana Kṛti" by Suniti Kumar Chatterji. While we knew Chatterji, the linguist; we were not aware of his anthropologist avatar. In this title, he discusses the Kirata or the mongoloid people at North and North-Eastern part of India, Sikkim, Nepal, and Bhutan. We were just back from Rai, Limboo and Gurung households. So we were instantaneously attracted to it.

Couple of travel books aggravated this restlessness. We picked up two titles by Arunava Das and Gourishankar Bhattacharjya respectively - both on known and unknown beautiful places in and around Dooars and Terai in West Bengal.

We remembered of our NJP tickets we bought few months back without any destination in mind. Time to make use of them. Time to call my Facebook friend Ramkumar Lama, an Art of Living teacher, a social worker, and a tireless proponent of responsible and sustainable eco-tourism in Eastern Dooars. Arrangements came promptly. And we boarded Padatik Express, yet again. Time to visit some more Kirata villages, at the lap of hills, under the cover of forests, in the company of wildlife.

The Tamangs

In December 2014, we were roaming in Darjeeling hills and Dooars. After successfully spotting rufous-necked hornbill at Latpanchar and spending a quiet day at Chhota Mangwa ridge sandwiched between Teesta and Kanchenjunga range, we stationed ourselves at Madarihat for three nights to experience Eastern Dooars , which evaded our itinerary so far. The primary target was Jaldapara National Park, of course. But we kept a day for Buxa. We did not have many expectations, as it is receiving all the adverse reports about dwindling wildlife and ecological destruction. But in our trek to Buxa Fort, we were pleasantly surprised by the rich avian life. We fell in love. When we reached the Fort, we met a smiling gentleman, who brought a group of school kids to introduce them to the rich history and ecology of this region. Ramkumar Lama. Visiting cards exchanged, Facebook friendship ensued.

We were not very impressed with the treatment of our host, Biswajit Saha, in Madarihat that time. So, when we decide to visit Eastern Dooars, Mr. Lama's number is looked up instead. The plan we agree is following. First night at 28 Basti inside Buxa Tiger Reserve. Second night at Lepchakha village after a 10 KM trek uphill. And last night at Chilapata, to enjoy the deep wooded fragment of Dooars forest corridor. We call Prashanta Das, at Madarihat. Prashanta drove us around last time. He promises to send a car to pick us up.

Padatik Express very uncharacteristically reaches NJP on time. Prashanta's driver, Samir Das, is waiting with an Alto for us. So far our Dooars route was always through Sevoke, crossing Coronation Bridge, and then continuation on Mongpong, Bagrakote, Odlabari, Damdim, Malbazar, Chalsa etc. But we take a different road this time.

The Teesta Barrage at Gajoldoba near Siliguri has turned into an attractive winter destination for birders. Sitting at the lap of Baikunthapur forest, the reservoir formed by the barrage hosts lot if migratory birds in winter. It is in my wishlist for long. In 2014, we asked Prashanta to take us through Gajoldoba on our way to NJP. But we took longer at Totopara and reaching Gajoldoba with favourable light condition became impossibility, thereby forcing us to drop the idea that time. In this trip we have put it into our itinerary. Prashanta enthusiastically arranges the route to allow us two visits on our way from and to NJP.


We take Siliguri Bypass, but instead of taking left towards Sevoke Road, we take right towards Jalpaiguri. We continue till Ambari and take a narrower road on left. Soon a canal joins on the left keeping the Baikunthapur forest on right. Driving another 20 min takes us to the barrage.

It is almost 10:30 now, not the right time for birding. Nevertheless we try to find some boatmen who can take us the birds. There were couple who are fishing using net on the drier side of the barrage. They tell us finding a boatman for birding will be difficult, since this is not exactly the season. A couple of Ruddy Shelducks fly away in distance just to tease us.

We find few shacks and settle down in one for a quick breakfast on Maggi ( thank God it is back ). We chat with the lady shopkeeper, who makes a phone call to call boatmen for us. A father-son duo arrive in a cycle. The son, Pradip Halder, takes my number. We decide to meet here on Sunday, on our way back to NJP.


Subhalakshmi goes inside to pay and check the kitchen. She comes out excitedly. "They are cooking Boroli". Boroli is yet another unchecked item in our wishlist. Never in our previous trips had we managed to taste this fish, a delicacy in North Bengal. The hotel owners like Biswajit Saha always emphasised on its rarity. But here we are. Sitting at a shack. They are cooking Boroli. And apparently, Boroli is a steady fixture in their menu. Then it cannot be that rare. Anyway, we shall not have it either today. But make a mental note that we must have it on Sunday, while coming back to NJP.

We cross the barrage and take left through tea gardens. In another 14 KM, we reach Odlabari and continue in NH31C. We keep Chalsa behind. We pass through Chapramari forest. We cross Murti, Diana, Jaldhaka and many other rivers, all dry now, exposing their bolder strewn naked bed delimited by narrow water streams. Banarhat, Binnaguri, Birpara, Madarihat - we cross town after town, punctuated by open land, tea gardens, thin woods. We take tea break. Subhalakshmi and I remember how we saw a large herd of elephants near South Khairbari off the highway.

Samir parks the car in front of a double storied wooden house. A vinyl banner hangs over the portico: "The Leo", our shelter for the night. A middle aged man comes out from the houses behind Leo. He introduces himself as Pratap Lama, the owner of this homestay. We are confused. We thought Ramkumar Lama runs this property. We have spoken to him this morning and he is supposed to meet us here. When we ask Pratap about him, he mentions that Ramkumar lives in Kalchini and he is not supposed to come here today. We pick up mobile to call him. But to our dismay, the mobile signal has disappeared. Now we are panicked. All our arrangements for tomorrow and later are done by him. And we have not taken any information from him earlier assuming we shall meet here.

But we are tired and hungry. We release Samir. Pratap shows us the first floor room. Room is basic. The toilets are behind the room, not attached and separated by a narrow passage. We are the only boarder in this house today. So that would not be a concern.

Pratap serves vegetarian lunch at the hanging veranda over the portico. A tourist family comes in a car - they are boarding another house behind us. Pratap assures - there are WLL PCOs in the village that will allow us to make call. Apparently Ramkumar has arranged a guide for our Lepchakha trek tomorrow. The guide, a young man, Sunny Lama, meets us. He does not have any birding experience. But I am not worried about that as the bird habitats are known to me here. Major worry is vehicle. Neither Pratap nor Sunny can give us any definitive answer in how to get a car to reach Santrabari tomorrow or to Chilapata on day after. We request Pratap to enquire about the options.

Since we have the afternoon left to us, we take a walk around the village. The village looks like any other Dooars village. Wooden houses with tin slopped roofs, standing over columns to avoid elephant attacks. Grazing cows. Mustard fields. Farmers ploughing fields with bullocks. Nothing different in its appearance. But there is something special about this village.

Buxa Tiger Reserve or BTR covers about 760 square KM. The core area is 390 square KM. There are 39 villages inside the boundary of BTR, 9 of them are within the core area. 28 Basti is one of these nine. Having village inside core area leads to man-animal conflict. No wonder, we see many watch towers and houses standing in columns in the village. Government tried to rehabilitate many of the villagers outside BTR. But only one of them, Bhutia Basti, on the other side of Jayanti river, was moved successfully. For many political, societal, financial reasons further movements stalled leading to the unease and discomfort for villagers and their animal neighbours.

Lack of infrastructure is evident here in 28 Basti. While the roads are good, possibly because of quite a few SSB camps inside the reserve boundary, everything else is missing. Poverty is evident. There is no school in the village. No market nearby. Mobile network is missing. And we shall discover in the evening that the promise of WLL PCO is feeble. No wonder, despite all the selfless hard work by social workers, tourism is hard to take off here.

The village is moderately big. In 1960s there were about 37 families. But in 2015, the village has grown into 110 families. While many of the Dooars villages are inhabited by indigenous Kirata tribes like Rabha, Mech, Rajbangshi etc.; or Austric tribes like Munda, Oraon or Santhal; 28 Basti is a primarily Nepali speaking community. As we have discovered most of them carry Lama surname, revealing their Buddhist identity. Much later I discover from Ramkumar that the community here is predominantly Tamang, practising Nyingma sect of Tibetan Buddhism.

Based on advice from Pratap, we cross the road keeping The Leo on other side, walk pass a mustard field, pass a house and hit a narrow concrete road that runs parallel to jungle. The house owner tells us that barking deers regularly visit this place.

We do not see them. But a large flock of hill mynas gather over the trees.

 

To give them company a group of red-breasted parakeets create much commotion and noise up above. Shal, Teak, Shishu, Khair - huge old trees are giving excellent habitat for them.

Chasing the hill mynas we walk further. Subhalakshmi tugs my shirt and points to a solitary Roller enjoying this circus.

The lure of deeper jungle is magnetic. But evening is coming fast. The huts at the corner of jungle are turning foggy while the sun sets behind the old trees. Cattle hooves throwing dust as they are coming back after grazing in the jungle for the day under sweet sound of bells announcing their safety. We circle back to the Homestay.

Behind the homestay a dry river bed flows into woods. We cross a field to reach near it. Pratap's neighbours sit in a circle around a fire. One of them in green fatigue limps towards us. He greets and introduces himself as Sanjib Lama, Ramkumar's distant cousin. Pointing to our camera gear, he adds that he is a birder and acts as a guide here. He offers his service. But I am careful. The man reeks alcohol. I ask him to speak with Pratap. He leaves us alone for now.

Still our transportation problem is not solved. Pratap mentions that an auto rickshaw may be arranged to drop us at Santrabari, where we start our Lepchakha trek tomorrow. But how do we get a vehicle on day after to reach Chilapata? We would not be able to do anything from Lepchakha, even deeper into jungle. My patience is wearing off and I decide to take control. I ask Pratap to show me a PCO booth. He takes me to a small grocery shop that doubles as a PCO. Dialling Ramkumar's number was unsuccessful for couple of times. Eventually we connect and speak. He apologises for not coming as he is teaching an Art of Living class in Kalchini. But he assures me that the guide, Sunny, has been provided with all information about booking in Lepchakha. For Chilapata he asks me to book an auto rickshaw. Auto rickshaw! Chilapata is 25 km from here. The road is through dense forest and highway. No way! I call up Prashanta and ask him to keep a car for us at Santrabari at 10 AM on day after.

Evening tea and snacks is served at the hanging veranda. Sanjib comes yet again. The smell of alcohol is stronger. He shows a battered bird handbook. He wants to come in the morning to show birds. He wants to guide us to Lepchakha. For morning, I ask him to come. For Lepchakha, no.

Pratap serves dinner. Chicken curry is good. He talks about Sanjib. The senior most guide in the village. But drink has taken away everything from him. One of his leg is paralysed, the reason behind his limp. But he has not stopped drinking.

The night is peaceful.

  

Taking the opportunity of darkness, the fog enters the village at night. At the onset of morning, it shies away and starts to retreat to the forest behind the homestay. The Lama family has woken up much earlier. So have we.

Sanjib Lama is back with his fatigue uniform. He wants to take us for birding. The stink of alcohol is milder, but clear still. He talks about broadbill. I do not need any further provocation. We follow him.

We cross the dry river behind the homestay, enter a scrub jungle and then deeper into the woods. A trail has gone like a slithery snake. An opening can be seen not too far away. Birds are silent.

The opening is another dry river bed. "The name is Buxa Jhora", Sanjib informs. Occasional peafowl call is rupturing the silence. A flock of Crimson-breasted parakeet flies over into other side of the river. We walk along their river bed.

Another river, again dry, meets Buxa Jhora. It's name is Fusrey. A deciduous tree is standing at the corner of the meeting point. At the top, a Maroon Oriole is busy with a branch. A yellownape woodpecker joins him two branches below. Soon a solitary red-breasted parakeet comes there a swell - but the woodpecker flies away.

Desperate to make the situation more interesting Sanjib tries hard. He asks us to be silent. Them after a minute, he whispers "Can you hear the sound ? It can be an elephant." Apart from distant calls of jungle fowls, we do not hear anything. I am already bored and ask him to move on. Through another narrow trail, we are soon joined to another dirt road. Sanjib says he has seen a "bison" here few days ack. We only see clear tyre impressions from the jeeps there. Few black beaded bulbuls are hopping at a shrub by the road. I miss them. After another 10 min walk, we are back at 28 Basti. I pay Sanjib. He is visibly unhappy that he cannot take us to Lepchakha.

Chapati and cabbage curry is served at breakfast. We finish that in no time. Pratap as not managed to arrange any auto for us. But a service jeep will go to Santarabari around 8:30 AM. He asks us to take that. We reluctantly agree.

We have some time. While Subhalakshmi finishes packing our backpacks for the trek, I decide to take a look at the jungle on the other side, where we spotted the hill mynas last afternoon. I am rewarded with a greater racket-tailed drongo.

  

When I am back the jeep has left us. Our guide Sunny, who has joined in the meanwhile, volunteers to get a car for us. We agree. He comes back with an ancient Omni which will drop us to Santarabari. We ask for a porter. Sunny gives us an unclear answer.

A friend of Sunny boards our car before Santarabari. The name is Alwyn Lama. He is also going to Lepchakha. We again ask for a porter. Sunny says porter will not be available here. When we express our dissatisfaction with much reluctance he agrees to carry bags provided we shall pay him porter fee. Not sure what has made him think that we shall not pay him. He could have told that right away when we requested first. We start the trek with a bitter taste in mouth.

The Dukpas

 Any trek seems longer first time. We walked up to Buxa Fort on 2014. The turns and climbs seem easier and shorter today. Soon we reach the "Hilltop Hotel", which is nothing but a shack under a banyan tree, a KM and half before Buxa Fort, run by a Thapa family. Last time a kid served our tea. Her mother serves today. Upasana, the kid is in school near Santarabari. Her mother adds, “Earlier she used to stay at hostel. But since most of the other kids are Dukpas, she could not mix well with them and goes from home now.” It means walking 10 KM up and down every day. But the mother is not worried. A teacher and few more kids from a village nearby join Upasana in this daily trek. I look around in expectation of great hornbills, who love perching at banyan trees. But none of them are around.

We pass Sadar Bazar, and then Buxa Dooars, the village adjacent to the fort. The repeat visit to fort for can be done tomorrow. Our walk continues towards Lepchakha. Near the fort the forest has thinned. But now big trees accompany us once more. The climb is steeper. The road twists around small bridges and elevated roots of ancient trees.

Human habitation has a corrosive presence. It announces its existence even when not visible. Sound of fire crackers reach us. Not from one direction, but multiple. When asked, Sunny informs that it is coming from Tashi Gaon and Lepchakha. Tibetan calendar has just started. It is festive season for these tiny villages. Losar, a fourteen day Buddhist festival is being celebrated. Ramkumar has advised us of it. Apparently we are visiting Lepchakha at an interesting time.

Another village visits us - Sakosa. More turns. The dolomite rich body of the mountain has been illegally excavated opening up white hemispherical wounds. Another turn. A road leaves us and go uphill to Achulang, near Bhutan border. A blue-winged minla peek through foliage. Carefully measuring our harmless nature, it comes out at top of the bush. But a shy male niltava remains under the dark shadow of a tree below, making its deep blue plumage almost black. 

We are standing at the foot of the next hillock. A set of huts surrounding the circumference of the top is visible. Sunny confirms - it is Lepchakha. Another short climb. And we are there.

Blare of loudspeaker hits us at the border of village. A set of Dukpas lads in traditional Bhutanese dress walk towards us each carrying a crossbow. A set of arrows hit the ground before us waving dust. Attack! We retreat back. 

No. This is no attack to the strangers to keep the purity and sanctity of the village intact. These good natured fellows are having an archery competition. Festive time!

Let us give them time to complete everybody's turn who are shooting from other side of the village. Once this round is over, we cross the target and reach near the village centre. 

The mood of celebration is everywhere. Banner, balloons, food stalls. The whole village is out in the open. All dressed up in traditional attire – gho for men and kira for women. Some fun loving old folks have taken ground after drinking their favourite poison.

The village sits at a table top. Keeping a small Gumpha and an adjacent Chorten at the nucleus, few houses surround it. More houses follow the paths that spirally go down from the table top. At one corner of the table top, after a small grass covered ground, few wooden benches are kept at the brink. An excellent view of BTR can be enjoyed from here.

Ramkumar has tentatively arranged our rooms at Baby Wangmo Homestay, very close to the Gumpha. But he has kept few other options should we not like Baby Wangmo. Proximity to crowd and not having an attached toilet are good enough reasons to look for other options.


Sunny takes us to the corner of the table top. A green wooden house looks over the ground and benches. He brings the keys. Big room, a basic but attached clean toilet, close enough to the Gumpha to watch festive activities, far enough to give us privacy. “We shall take it” – Sunny is told. The owner, Penzo Dukpa, comes. We negotiate and agree on the room rate. Cheaper than Baby Wangmo. Food, which will be coming from Penzo's sister's kitchen, will be charged extra. An unsolicitated recommendation comes from Sunny - 400/- per head. With her better practical sense, Subhalakshmi stops him, enters the kitchen, speaks to the lady and settles it. For our lunch, dinner and breakfast we shall be paying 360/- in total!


Without being able to cut a deal, unhappy Sunny asks me if we shall be needing his service tomorrow. Initially I thought to keep him. But because of his attitude, and based on Ramkumar's prior advise, we disappoint him once more. I pay him and send back.





Due to the festival, the village has attracted many visitors. Alwyn, our guide's friend, is sitting at a shop and drinking beer. He will be staying here for the night. A Lepcha gentleman from Kalipong with his daughter sitting at the benches near our homestay. He married a Dukpa girl from this village. He is feeling bit out of water with all the Dukpa activities around.


Interestingly there is hardly any tourist today. We spot a lady from Alipurdoor. Her husband has fallen in love with Lepchakha and comes back repeatedly. She is visiting it for the first time. Unfortunately, the husband has to go downhill for some urgent work. But he will be back by afternoon.



After lunch, we give a round in the village. The whole village is soaking in festive mood. The archery competition continues. We take a round around the Chorten. The adjacent tiny Gumpha is closed. The kids are running around with toys. They are swarming the eateries to buy junk food.




Some of them are dancing with popular Hindi numbers from noisy loudspeakers.



On our walk towards village fringe towards Buxa, we hear the sound of drum and pipes. They are coming from a house slightly uphill. A villager tells us about the puja being performed there. Curous us walk up and reach the house. The owner Thendup Dukpa welcomes us warmly. When asked if this puja is for Losar, he answers negative. Apparently this is Lakshmi Puja to celebrate the new harvest. A Buddhist 'nabanna'? Interesting! Thendup invites us to the Puja room. Monks are chanting Tibetan mantras in baritone. Drums and pipes are accompanying. Huge pile of fruits, grains and cooked foods are offered to the God. We offer pranaam and come out at veranda.

Thendup's daughter and her husband offer tea. "Can we have Dukpa tea?" - we ask. They smile affirmatively and serve it with a basket of puffed rice. Salty with traces of butter. Different and interesting.


Thendup runs a homestay as well. Pointing my camera and lens, he mentions about the trek to Jayanti, which offers excellent opportunity for birding and butterfly photography. May be next time.


We thank him for the tea and giving us the opportunity to experience the Puja. A little kid from the Puja room upstairs observes us and smiles as we return back to the village centre.


The day has been hazy. But the sunset is serene. It goes behind strip of cloud, crosses it, becomes visible yet again. Then suddenly it disappears. We bath in the afterglow sitting at a bench at the brink of the village terrace.


The village does not have electricity. Feeble light of solar lamp accentuates more darkness. We sit at the veranda and observe the activities near Chorten. The Hindi film numbers are replaced by announcements in Dukpa language. Firecrackers add additional noise.

Our hostess sends the dinner in hot pot. It is bit early. But they will be going to the Chorten to take part in festive activities. Dance will be starting later - may be around 8 PM. Since we do not have anything better to do, we decide to take the food. The veranda does not have any solar lamp. A candlelight dinner follows.

At about 8 PM we go near the Chorten. The gentlemen of the village are now sitting cross legged around it forming a semi circle. Another man, proxying as a monk, serving them some holy water. Tripitaka chanting in Tibetan comes in chorus.

Later, the gentlemen start to sing and dance in a circle. The loudspeaker has stopped. Soon few ladies join them. Light is feeble. They turn and circle, creating a blur that mystifies the individual silhouettes. A community dance.
We start to realise the situation and moment. An old tribe, in the depth of jungle, on an anthropological island, performs a ritual, which perhaps is a thousand year old tradition. Two outsiders, neither understanding their language, nor their ritual, stand speechless, and witness this ceremony. Goosebumps come automatically.

The morning after the long festival night gives a depressing look. Empty beer bottles watch the cloudy sky without interest like drunks in stupor. Not many of the villagers are awake yet. But we have to start early.

Maggi comes as breakfast. Penzo's son Tsering comes to collect our payment. His handsome face is familiar. He is one of the archers participated in the competition yesterday. He studies in Phuntsholing, Bhutan. Unfortunately he will have to go back to hostel tomorrow, much before the Losar ends in another three days time.

Tsering arranges a porter. Wongbi Dukpa. An old man, with a wrinkled face. We are uncomfortable. But Tsering assures us that he will be fine. And anyway we do not have heavy bags. Wongbi does not speak Hindi. Universal sign language will be our medium for the trek downhill.

Coming down from the Lepchakha table top brings more birds. A yellownape woodpecker, flock of green magpies, and couple of racket tailed drongoes.

Sakosa comes. We meet a duo of a grandma and granddaughter. The young girl studies at a Bhutan school (yet again). Grandma is curious about us. Through the girl we have a lively chat about our background and whereabouts.

Buxa fort is visible. The school at Buxa Dooars is getting ready for the Saraswati puja today. Couple of Black Headed Bulbuls are sitting at a hibiscus bush. We missed them near 28 Basti. But apparently there are plenty of them here.

Tickets are bought for the fort entry from Buxa Dooars. Wongbi's expression less Dukpa face betrays traces of uneasiness. He has not eaten anything in the morning. We give him some money to have his breakfast, make him comfortable, leave the bags with him and enter the fort.

We cross the main terrace and take the path slightly downhill. The ruins of barracks are invaded by vegetation. But inside it is dry and rocky. Walls are marked in scratched graffiti, dirty handwork of irresponsible tourists, possibly.

Unplanned beautification and inconsistent conservation has made the fort ugly. There are some flower beds without flower. A gentleman is watering the plants. He asks us to go inside the barracks. We instead introduce ourselves.

Prakash Thapa. Along with Tamal Goswami from Alipurdooar, he worked hard to make the tourism around Buxa possible. The funding has stopped from Government. Through the local effort they try to maintain the fort as much as possible. Economy here is in bad shape. Dolomite excavation has been stopped. After 1993 flood, the core soil for orange trees, once famous in Buxa, has been swept away, killing all the orchards around. Tourism is only hope. But there are many hurdles. All along in this route we see electric poles lying on the ground. A project is in progress to bring the much needed power. Villagers have contributed with money and labour to make it happen. Yet Prakash thinks electricity will never come. The lack of intent, corruption, and inefficiency will not make it possible.

Prakash runs a small homestay. Yesterday we have seen two beautiful cottages amidst greens at a very narrow valley just before Sadar Bazar. That is Dobana, the property run by Prakash. He wants us to see it ourselves, offers the key which we can leave at the kitchen. But we do not need further convincing. If we come back in Buxa, we shall stay there. Prakash shares his card. And no hornbill sighting for last two days :-(

Walking starts. Tea at Hilltop hotel again. Upasana is there. A male blue rock thrush, a winter guest from Europe is parching on a tree branch.

Further walk. Human voice comes up along with sound of maadol, the tribal drum. A large team of madeshia youths is coming up. Ramkumar with his smiling face along with two gentlemen is leading the team. As he has mentioned earlier, he is taking this team to perform at Lepchakha. What a great idea! An Austric tribe will perform at the festival of Mongoloid tribe.

He shares information about our booking in Chilapata. Apparently Ganesh, the owner of Chilapata Jungle Camp has arranged some river fish for us. Lovely! We thank him and take his leave.

Near Santarabari, an Alto enters the jungle and drives towards us. That is Samir. He is waiting for us from 8 AM. Prashanta has not taken any chance and has sent him much earlier than we have asked. We pay Wongbi and bid goodbye, in sign language yet again. Time to leave Buxa.
 

The Rabhas

When we reach The Leo, Pratap is waiting. Yesterday we have asked him to keep our lunch ready and requested local fish, if possible. He has not managed to get Boroli or local Katla. Humble Rui will adorn our lunch plates. Can we get food for Samir as well? Pratap agrees.

Samir and I visit the jungle to kill the half an hour before lunch. Instead of walking along the narrow concrete path, we go deeper into the woods and reach near a ravine. Racket-tailed drongoes are playfully flying around on other side. A small flock of chestnut-headed bee-eaters are sitting plaintively on a tree inside ravine. We come down to have a closer look. Usually bee-eaters are predictable and come back to same perching place again and again. Proving our wisdom wrong, they do not take our approach easily and fly away deeper in the jungle.

After lunch, we pay Pratap. He does not take anything extra for keeping our bags for the night and allowing us to use the room and bathroom today. A touching gesture! Their means may be limited, but there is an easy honesty and earnestness in their hospitality. This is what that brings us back to villages. We thank him and his wife.

As we load the luggage in the car, a greater flameback woodpecker comes. With its red crest and angry eyes, it looks like a British-era Indian constable. With unnecessary business, he gets busy with trunk of tree on the road. May be a good omen for our Chilapata sojourn.

The Buxa forest is left behind. The car runs along NH12A, then joint NH31C. Just before Hasimara, a left turn is taken. Few villages are crossed. Children are offering Anjali at Saraswati Puja pandals. Girls of Mongoloid, Austric and mixed gene pool Bengalis, are all clad in Saree. The religion, language, anthropological origin all melt down here.
The road crosses Bania river. Keeping a teak forest in our right we reach Chilapata Jungle Camp.

The owner of the property Ganesh Shah (+91.97333.49806) is waiting for us in the reception. When asked, we request him to keep the river fish for dinner as we have already taken lunch. We want to do an afternoon safari. Ganesh will arrange.

The property is spread over about an acre of land. Few double storied buildings are spread among tree canopies. We check in to the second floor of one overlooking the agricultural field. With the varying speed of dry breeze from the sunbathing fields the volume of Hindi songs goes up and down. Old Dopler is still working.


By 2:30 PM a Gypsy arrives near reception. It will take us to entry gate. Ganesh knows the driver. Pele Rabha. Rabha! Is not that another indigenous tribe of Dooars? We visited a Rabha village in 2014. May be we shall be able to visit another here.

Pele drives about a KM and half and reaches the forest office where the entry permits will be issued. Our entry fee and guide fee are paid. Still camera does not attract charge. Guide will be a handsome young man - Suleman Miyan . It is taking a longer to get the changes of the payment. Suleman comes back at last. Knowing that the safari times are usually sacrosanct, we ask the duo if the lost time will be compensated for us. Suleman smiles - "You are the only tourist today. We can take as much time as you want." It is exam time in Calcutta. That is why the forest is devoid of travellers. There is some benefit in coming during off season.

Pele takes a sudden right turn after driving for about 2KM. He bypasses a barricade and drives the car into jungle. A mix of deciduous jarul and evergreen shal and teak. Suleman gives us the usual intro to the jungle. Rhinos are rare in Chilapata. Elephants and Gaurs should be there. But of course it will depend on luck. We ask him not to worry about mammal spotting. Let us focus on birds.

The jungle transforms to evergreen forest. Suleman asks Pele to stop the car. We get down and enter a ruin. Nalrajar Garh - or the fort of King Nal. Suleman narrates that it is an unfinished fort built by Chilaraja, a general of the King of Coochbehar. It was built during the Bhutan-Coochbehar conflict. However as we enter through an arch, the shape of the flat bricks look familiar to us. We have seen bricks of similar shape at Chandraketu Garh, a Gupta era ruin. But Bhutan-Coochbehar conflict is a rather recent event, which happened at later half of the 19th century. Later, consulting internet, we shall find that our identification is correct. It is a Gupta era construction indeed, built around 5th century.


Suleman may be weak in history, but his knowledge of local flora and fauna is enviable. He shows us Ramsupari tree. The trunk is defaced with many deep wounds and scratches. We initially thought it is from some animal. "No, it is from man. If scratched, it secrets blood like fluid. Just for the sake of fun, people come and scratch it. This is quite a rare species. For some unknown reason no new Ramsupari tree borns. Maybe the bird or animal that used to spread its seeds are extinct now. Only 25-30 are left in Chilapata. Most of them, again for some unknown reason are around this ruin, which is not too far away from Highway. And for all these scratching already one of them is dead."

Saddened by this thought, we drive along. But our sadness evaporated by the sighting of an oriental pied hornbill pair. Buxa deprived is from the sighting of their bigger cousin - Great Hornbill. Suleman confirms that only Oriental Pied variety is found in Chilapata.

The car hits the highway, which cuts through the deep forest. While the drive is excellent, such a road cannot be healthy for the ecology of a jungle. Pele stops the car and points towards the top of a tree. A Crested Serpent Eagle is sitting peacefully and basking in the soft light of afternoon sun. The trucks, cars and buses cannot disturb his peace, apparently.

The road takes a bend. The Mendabari Watchtower is visible from the turn. We move further along and enter jungle yet again. The road will take us to CC Line or Central Core Line. Suleman wants to take us there because of grassland there, which may be useful for some bird sighting. But we will have something more in store there.

At the instruction of our guide, the car stops short again. Suleman 's sharp eye has detected something. He points through the shrubs and trees. An innocent pair of eyes are observing us. A gaur. We detect couple of more. A forest department kunki elephant arrives with her Mahout. The gaurs go deer in jungle.

The gypsy climbs over a wooden bridge on a jungle stream. Suleman thinks it originates from River Buribesra. Hanging branches of trees from both sides has formed a canopy. Under the shadow a solitary gaur is drinking water. We stand still and watch him for about 15 min. The advances of department kunki disturb him. He shakes head couple of time as if to fight against the invisible enemy. And then cross the stream and join his herd in the deep woods where we have left them.

The path continues till a barricaded forest staff compound is reached. Suleman gets his paperwork done as we see an elephant calf munching grass and shakes her head. She seems to be disgusted. A kunki is under training. Pele mentions her mother also shakes head periodically.

We have reached CC Line, marked by River Torsa. The river divides Chilapata and Jaldapara. During 1993 flood Torsa changed its course and moved closer to where Jaldapara stands now. A vast grassland and wetland were eventually created on Chilapata side. Chilapata usually do not have Rhinos. But Jaldapara rhinos sometime cross the river and come near Chilapata. We spot few of them from distance.

Pele drives further along the river bank. Then another pleasant surprise! A makna, or a tusk less male elephant. Usually they are dangerous, if solitary. Pele stops the car. But we see a whole herd grazing very close to the path. Hesitant - as if taking decision whether to get into the grassland. They have calves in the herd - thus extra cautious. A forest department Sumo crosses us. The herd retreats bit farther, yet close enough to the path so that they can cross when opportunity arises.

Sensing that they will not cross now, Pele drives and stops the car near a watch tower. All of us climb it. The rhinos are closer. The elephants have not decided to cross yet. Pele and Suleman keep them under watch.

We ask Pele if his village is close. He answers affirmative. In 2014, when we visited the Rabha village near Dhumchi forest, we wanted to buy the Rabha scarves and wraps wooden in handlooms. That village did not have any weavers but they recommended to visit the village near Chilapata. Pele confirms that there are families in his village who weave it. We decide to go there tomorrow.

The elephants are closer to the road, but have not crossed yet. The sun is going down. Pele and Suleman want to cover more. Let us proceed.

We come back to the highway and enter the Mendabari side of it. From the watchtower we take right. The jungle is already dark. And with darkness the animal activity is increasing perceptibly. Almost at every corner we sight a gaur. A flock of jungle fowls roam fearlessly like their domesticated siblings. And then Suleman points something in our back. An elephant! A tusker!

He is following the same path. Pele shifts the gear to reverse. With roar of engine we move closer to it. For a while he ignores. Then he retreats. As we still follow him, he stops, faces us, and raises his trunk. It is time that we stop. His tusks are big - but misaligned. One of them is placed bit higher than the other. Suleman recognises him and tells us - his name is “taal betaal" or rhythm-less because of his misaligned tusks. Other famous males in this forest are "baayaa ganesh" - the one with just one tusk on left, and "berhaa jaal" - the one with tusks crossing each other creating a barrier for his trunk movement. All three are peaceful in nature and usually roam alone.

It is almost three and half hours since we entered the jungle. It is dark all around. Sensing our love for jungle and not for sighting, Suleman and Pele have driven much more than they should have. They have more in plan - Kodalbasti. But the gypsy does not have floodlight. Thus we decide to go back.


Three big mammals in a single safari! First time in our experience in many Dooars sojourns. We have not expected anything from Chilapata. Yet the jungle has been more than generous.

In this great mood we come down for dinner. The dining area is an open place with thatched roof and a serving platform. The staffs are smiling and polite. The dining is adorned with pictures of casts and sets of Gautam Ghosh's film 'Moner Manush'. Prosenjit Chatterji and Paoli Dam smilingly pose with the resort owner. Staffs inform us that the film was shot near River Bania. The actors and director stayed here. Prosenjit occupied the room we are staying. The room must be the best in this property.

Rice, dal, cauliflower, green peas, paparh, and salad. And the dish we are looking forward to since morning - the fish curry. The fish served is called patharchata. It is a small riverine fish. It tasted like our almost extinct 'nadosh' that appears now and then in Calcutta market. The fishes are local catch, picked up from Bania river.

The night is less than peaceful. The Saraswati puja organisers in a local village arranged a live 'cultural' programme. Hindi item numbers come one after another. And when the artists take leave, the organisers decide not disrupt the good mood and start singing themselves. The voice quality is pathetic. The loudspeaker is screeching as if in protest. If the Hindi songs in Lepchakha have been irritating, that in Chilapata is nightmarish. The peacocks in the adjacent fields become silent fearing the presence of unknown ferocious animal. And I am sure elephants do not ventured out from woods that night.

But every torture has an end. In the soft morning light the mist covered forest and field look heavenly. We start walking towards River Bania.

A resident puppy decides to be our guardian and start walking with us. Near the teak forest, a pair of hornbills gives us a quick visit. The dog barks and the birds glide deeper into the jungle.

Near River Bania a picnic spot has been Christened as 'Moner Manush Picnic Spot'. Couple of open billed storks and egrets are inspecting the river for morning catch. We find a tea stall. Closed. A bamboo bench and A small empty bottle of whiskey indicate the other use of the stall. An Indian Roller flies from one tree to another in 'Moner Manush Picnic Spot' leaving a trail of electric blue illusion.

We call Pele. He meets us near the Rabha village and takes us to the home of Sudhir Rabha. Sudhir's wife use a handloom to weave Rabha scarves and wraps. She shows us some of her works. Some other members of the village join us.

Unlike many other tribes, Rabhas do not face any threat to their language. Their matriarchal societies are also intact. Though males are taking leads in affairs where interaction with other societies are needed. Sudhir helps his wife in marketing and selling. Both of them used to stay in Calcutta. Subhalakshmi buys a scarf and a wrap.

A call comes in my mobile at breakfast table. Pradip Halder, the young boatman whom we have met at Gajoldoba. We decide to meet at 3 PM.

Samir arrives with his car. He is sad. One of his driver friends has been scolded by the car owner. Though Prashanta does not have anything to do with this, class sentiment is prevailing.

While listening to his story, we pass Hasimara, cross Torsa, drive past Madarihat, Birpara, Binnaguri, Bannerhat, Chalsa and reach Malbazar. Subhalakshmi picks up tea from the Mission Hill outlet at petrol pump outlet. This has become almost a ritual for our Dooars trips. In next half an hour we cover Damdim, Oodlabari, and then Gajoldoba.

The shacks near the dam have taken the look of a fair ground. It is densely infested by Sunday outers. Pradip meets. He manages to find some seats for us. Rice, mixed vegetable, daal comes after many shouting and cajoling. Subhalakshmi finds the lady owner. She comes with thermocol bowls full with Boroli curry. Patharchata in dinner and Boroli in lunch. Two North Bengal riverine delicacies in a row. Wow!

For boating we have two options. There is a bigger segment where after 30 min boating we can reach near some sediments area. Usually the shelducks and geeses frequent on that side. The smaller segment adjacent to Baikunthapur forest has more algae and grasses. Pochards and other smaller ducks love to hunt on this. Considering the availability of time, we choose later.

Over next couple of hours we chased the ducks. But being a Sunday afternoon, the birds are already irritated by many boats following them since morning. We have a very hard time in moving closer. The majority are red crested pochards.

But eurasian wigeons are giving them company. I mistake them as northern pintails. But a closer look at the head discloses their identity. The solitary one with brown head at the foreground of the pochards is an eurasian wigeon. And gadwall couples are adding to the diversity. And a large flock of lesser whistiling ducks are creating a huge ruckus at their evening conference on water hyacinth island.

Pradip is sad that we have not had a great birding experience here. We are surprised to see his level of accountability of the job where he has little control. But we console him that we shall come back.

The twilight gives way to shallow darkness. The shadow of Baikunthapur trees grows longer and then become invisible in the looming evening. We drive towards NJP. Another trip is over.