Santanu Mitra:

In the firelight of tea stalls, I could just make out the dark shapes of Land Rovers parked in Dharan bus terminal. It was barely five in the morning and biting cold. As luck would have it, I got a seat at the back. Little did I know what the journey had in store for me.

I was soon joined by a family of five at the back; parents and three children aged from four to seven years. Just as I was thinking that the car was filled to capacity, another three gentlemen joined us at the back. One a very tall Limbu and one other a drunk man carrying more local frothy alcohol in a wooden jar. The car jolted to a start and we were off.

The journey was uneventful till we reached Hile. The roads were rather good although it hugged the hillside. But the story changed drastically once we left Hile. The road turned utterly degenerate. Over boulders and slick mud we rambled…. sometimes at a crawl. Several times the wheels skidded on the mud, sending a creepy feeling down my spine. If that was not enough, the mother and two children of the family started vomiting willy-nilly. Luck was on my side, as they promptly brought out plastic bags, which they used as barf bags. But alas, the bags were soon used up and then the fat was in the fire. Soon they took turns to crane their heads out of the window and do the needful. But the timing between feeling nauseous and reaching the orifice was too tough to manage, specially for the children, and soon the inside started smelling of half digested food from the night before.

By this time I was resigned to my fate and took an interest in the rolling vista of majestic mountains. It took us nine hours of arduous jolting to reach our destination, Maglung bazaar in Tehrathum. I made a mental note to write to the office of Land Rover Company in London and tell them that I was witness to the ultimate acid test of their product.

Set in an idyllic location surrounded by mountains lay Maglung. Quaint houses flanking stone paved lanes, bougainvillea and Bombay creepers over most fences. Simple people, lovely in their unfettered lives, brightly painted houses, warm and cozy. Soon I met the local youth in the local hang out joint, Parijaat Restaurant. They called themselves SAYAR, an acronym constructed by the first letters of their names. Santosh, Arjun, Yogesh, Abitha and Raju. They organised games, plays and musical evenings. A great group of inquisitive youngsters. Now my friends in a remote village — Maglung. I will go back again. The road will not deter me.