Darjeeling – Land Of The Thunderbolt

The first thing that caught my eye as I prepared to board the train was that the coach has just one door. Passengers, who are used to two entrances to an Indian Railway coach, looked for the other nonexistent exit, as the crowd piled up in front of the only entrance to board the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway or, the ‘Toy Train’ as it is fondly called due to it’s two feet  narrow gauged tracks, it’s toyish coaches and even for the little  steam engines that toughs it along.

The magnificent Darjeeling Himalayan Railway was included in UNESCO’s list of World Heritage Sites in 1999 – only the second railway in the world to be given this distinction.

Inside, the coach was elaborately designed with dragon and floral motifs in rich, dark colours, and its high-backed seats and large glass windows served well for a scenic ride. This was the more touristy first class coach; the second class coach offered less elaborate décor but more seating – much more practical to accommodate the many travellers who come to experience the journey to Darjeeling.   

Boarding proceeded in its own unique way. Like elsewhere in the world, you get many latecomers, and these latecomers always carry an inordinate amount of baggage. Now, we Indians are not renowned for travelling light, especially when travelling up to a hill station from the plains. But the loads some carry defy belief.

After the stationmaster blew his whistle and waved his green flag, the train driver waved in reply, whistled and started off. Just then, a woman arrived, running alongside the coach carrying a baby, with two older children and their nanny trailing behind her. I felt a sudden jolt as the driver abruptly applied the brakes, stopping the train with a screech. The desperate latecomers came onboard with their 14 bags. Later, I discovered that her escort had actually jumped on the moving train and pulled the emergency chain, bringing us to an immediate halt.

The activity, which had geared up from frantic to manic, normalised within a few minutes, as there was an almighty whistle again from the guard and a frenzy of flag waving by all concerned. Soon, the small train chugged out of the New Jalpaiguri station in Siliguri, West Bengal.

As the little train pulled out and through the backyard of Siliguri town, heading towards the Mahanadi bridge, I became aware of cool, dark smoke clouds from the engine, the scent of freshly plucked tea leaves in the air and the gush of the river alongside the tracks.

The journey brought back a lot of old memories .This used to be a route I travelled with my family every year during summer, from the time I was a toddler – like standard Bengali families from the plains of Bengal. I looked forward to spending a few days in a different place, soaking up as much nature as I could.

We stopped at Sukna, a military cantonment area with lush tea gardens, where the train would be prepared for its ascent. It made me think of my dad’s standard narration every time we made this journey. He would tell my family about how once the train had to wait for hours on this narrow track in the Sukna jungle, as a tigress and her cubs blocked the tracks.

Sukna, around the late seventies and early eighties, was densely forested and was the habitat of several tigers and leopards. Now, there are only a few and sightings from the train are almost impossible. Blue mountains greeted me as the train quickly rose from the plain, passing through tea gardens and forests of teak and sal trees.

Inside, the coach conductor offered commentary on how the British engineers had designed a series of loops and reverses to negotiate the ascent, which is why the railroad sometimes left the ordinary road altogether and met it again sometime later. The loop helps the track circle around and pass over itself by means of a bridge, thereby attaining a higher elevation and better alignment. In the reverse, the same objective is attained by running the track back diagonally up the hill side for a short distance, and then, resuming an alignment parallel to the original but higher up the side of the mountain.

Cameras clicked furiously inside the coach as every turn brought a new scene to the fore: A house lined with brightly coloured flowers; an old couple soaking up the sun on the steps of their home; a woman washing clothes, oblivious to the passing train; clothes drying on a string; a semi-circle of colourful chortens (Buddhist shrines); a football played on a small flat patch in a jungle; and children waving at the train with gleeful smiles – the most common sight of all and one that can instantly make you happy.

The tiny engine put in its best effort, puffing thick smoke as it hauled the coaches up the hill. Bhutia and Lepcha women, with babies strapped across their backs, strode across the tracks, heavy silver trinkets oxidised by the air, costumes bright as a peacock’s tail, adding even more colour to the scenery.

Incessantly whistling, the train wound through valleys, woods and tea gardens. The panorama of the mountain ranges opened up on one side while the track twisted and turned alongside the road to Darjeeling. It kept on changing sides, hugging the hillside for a few kilometers and then, crossing the road to follow the edge for a short distance.

The vehicles on the road timed their run according to the speed of the train, stopping to let it cross the road and then, moving alongside it. My train soon reached Kurseong, a small thriving hill town at 4,864 feet, with a small market right by the train tracks. Here, a workshop attached to the station with a few old engines was a reminder of a bygone era.

I had just enough time to step outside the coach and breathe in the fresh, cold air before the journey resumed. The train reversed onto a busy crossing before taking the onward track through the narrow bazaar of Kurseong.

The pavement vendors had their wares placed right beside the track, but even when the train passed, this did not disturb their goods. Upon hearing the piercing whistle of the train, the vendors immediately jumped back, leaving their shops open and unattended for a few seconds – a pretty well calculated move with not much time wasted, as they get right back to business as soon as the coaches pass.

The passing of the trains is an integral part of daily life in these hills of West Bengal, and it’s as if the train is an intimate member of the people. On other train journeys, I have felt like an outsider passing through a place, but travelling on this slow train offers a strong local flavour. Sometimes, I feel like one of the village folk moving from one room of a house to another !

As the train turned, it slowed down and a few people jumped off in front of their houses while a few others jumped on to travel up to the next station. Soon, the train passed through a cloud of mist, and the road beside it disappeared as the train chugged into a forest of maple, chestnut, pear, cherry, Japanese cedar and cardamom plants.

Tung was the next station, and offered an excellent view of the Kurseong ridge, especially on a clear day. My train passed one station after another, and as I gazed out the window, I wondered what it must have taken to build this incredible rail road in the clouds of Darjeeling.

But the best was yet to come. After crossing Jorebunglow, the train reached Ghoom at 7,407 feet, the highest point of the journey. After a short rest, it started its descent towards Darjeeling. On its way, the train passed through the biggest of the loops called the Batasia Loop, which is a memorial park dedicated to Gorkha soldiers. Here, I was rewarded with a spectacular view of Darjeeling town with Kanchenjunga – the third highest peak in the world – as its backdrop. After a few minutes, the train pulled into the Darjeeling station.

Having arrived in Darjeeling at dawn, I hopped into a cab and headed for Tiger Hill to see the majestic Kanchenjunga change colour as the sun rose. This is probably the most visited place in Darjeeling and the best time to visit is early in the morning when the first rays of sun turn the mountain a sublime hue. On clearer days, you can even see Mount Everest!

In the early days, explorers used Darjeeling as a base camp for trekking in the Himalayas. Many of the greats started here: George Mallory, Sir Edmund Hillary and more recently, Jon Krakauer. As a result, Nepalese, Sherpa and Tibetan people – all experienced with the Himalayan altitude and terrain – gradually settled here to provide services as guides, porters and hoteliers.

English traditions are still very prominent here. Almost everybody speaks English, which is taught as per the  colonial methods, and people come from as far as Nepal and Bangladesh to learn English here. This little town on the hills also boasts of two English  dailies.

Colonial Relics

Darjeeling is also home to countless colonial buildings. Amongst the most popular, the Darjeeling Club (better known as the Planter’s Club) with its lavish suites available today at prices that will beat any 4 star hotel in the plains. The Darjeeling Club was a British institution, which used to house British explorers. They’d relax in the snooker hall, celebrate in the dining hall, and choose their porters and guides by leaning over the balcony overlooking the Sherpa’s below, deciding who looked the fittest. The club continues serving the same way keeping controlled lodging charges.

As I entered the Planter’s Club, I felt ghosts of the past and imagined the celebrations that must have been held in its hall. The place has been given a facelift to accommodate modern luxuries and is highly recommended especially when celebrating the New Year. That’s the festival which suits best with the establishment’s ambience given the overall available services, cuisine and weather conditions at the time.

Most of the former residences in Darjeeling are now hotels, allowing tourists to experience living like a British lord. With Keventers right opposite the club, you can feast on their specialty breakfast spreads and excellent quality tea in an open air terrace restaurant.

Glenary’s, a well-stocked bakery, offers a variety of delicacies, while a live music bar downstairs offers an awesome view of the blue misty valley as a bonus. But the best place to eat, shop, stroll or, just hang around, would be the mall road. Darjeeling boasts a large and trendy mall, and the entire town is centred around this marketplace, which sells Tibetan handicrafts and souvenirs, Himalayan artifacts, antiques, books and a large number of other curios. Lovely walkways start from here, making it the best place to begin your tour.

Chowrasta or the cross road junction leading to the Mall road which is the town square is known for its picturesque views of Kanchenjunga. Another must see is the Himalayan Mountaineering Institute, which was founded by the first conqueror of Mount Everest, Tenzing Norgay. The institute undertakes many mountain expeditions and has to its credit, a number of records. You could enroll here for mountaineering courses too.

You can’t leave Darjeeling without sampling its tea. There are many shops to choose from and a wide variety of flavours, but if you are keen on experiencing the real thing, Darjeeling is surrounded by many renowned tea gardens, all within a short drive.

Since the 19th century, the area has been producing one of the most fascinating teas in the world: Darjeeling Tea. Nowadays, all Darjeeling gardens belong to multinational companies, except a few.

Darjeeling tea is not just an industry, it’s a craft – a very specialised art that requires years of expertise to produce and amongst some of the most expensive teas in the world. Some of the gardens like Glenburn and Makaibari also promote tea tourism, with well-managed accommodation, making your Darjeeling trip a unique holiday experience.