18th September 2011. Approx. 6:00 PM. It was a peaceful and quiet evening. Sipping chai and sinking our teeth into crispy hot pakoras, we watched the evening mist shape into clouds and kiss our window pane. A blissful moment that we wished would stay forever. But as the proverb goes, our happiness was short-lived. We had just drifted away, down the rabbit hole into a wonderland when we felt the floor beneath our feet begin to shake and the tea cups start to rattle.
The mist enveloping the mountains just before the first tremors were felt |
For a few seconds, we couldn't gauge what was happening, was it the music next door causing the vibration? But then we saw the walls crack and we knew there was much more at play here than just music. Reflex took over and we both reached for the door simultaneously, bumping into a housekeeping staff member who was about to bang on our door. No words were required; his expression was enough to tell us that we were right. The three of us ran downstairs and out of the hotel, to join the rest as the tremors strengthened. Yes, we were caught in the earthquake that rocked Sikkim in September 2011 on a Richter scale of 6.9.
The first set of tremors probably lasted a minute or so. Honestly I cannot remember. Once the vibrations had subsided, we braced ourselves for the aftershocks. Would they unleash more terror or would they take some pity on us? We weren't disappointed. Within the next thirty minutes Gangtok experienced three more aftershocks; all we could do was hold hands and wait; hoping and praying that we had seen the last of them.
September is a lean season in Sikkim as far as Tourism is concerned. We were but the only guests at the hotel that evening, having planned to visit the northern parts of Lachung the next morning.
It wasn't long before the electricity gave up and the whole of Gangtok was plunged into darkness. But in the midst of all the apprehension and fear that had taken over every mind, what touched ours was the hospitality the locals displayed. Despite all odds and the danger of the roof collapsing over their heads, they placed us and our needs above all. In between the tremors, Mr. Thapa, the F&B manager walked up to us and asked what we would like to have for dinner. Yes, with the earthquake looming large on our lives, Mr. Thapa was worrying over what meal he could feed us. Despite our protests, he stayed adamant, saying that we had a long day and he couldn't see his guests go hungry, whatever the situation might me. Finally we gave in on the condition that we would have only “bread omelet”. All of us shared a meal that night.
Post dinner, a slight tremor saw us outside again. But this time we were not alone. People were to be found everywhere, some squatting while others hunching against cars and scooters. Mothers tried to keep their children warm with blankets, while some men were busy lighting up tiny fires to chase away the chill. There was a chant in the air which had been absent earlier. We strained our ears and realized that every person out there was praying for a basic need – to keep all of us safe. The hotel invited folks in, to rest and pray.
For safety reasons we along with the housekeeping staff slept on the ground floor. We were occupying the sole guest room on the floor and the rest along with some locals made the reception area their bedroom; including the hotel manager. It was a long night and not a soul slept; all awake wondering every single second what was in store in the next. For the first time, we understood what uncertainty truly meant.
A set of tremors later, the night finally decided to give way to the morning. Mother Nature seemed to have calmed down but everywhere we looked we could see the impact of her fury from the previous night. Trees had fallen, cables were dangling all over, roofs had collapsed and there were gaping holes in the walls. Our hotel too had seen its share of damage; cracks had developed across the rooms, with one gaping wide open near the entrance, silently exhibiting proof of what we had been through.
Going to Lachung was now out of question, every road entering or exiting Gangtok was blocked by landslides. All we could do was spend our days around Gangtok city and evenings watching that mist against the hotel window pane. Quiet evenings they were, but this time they were accompanied by an eeriness that was tough to ward away.
With Mr. Thapa and the hotel staff, they defined hospitality for us |
Mr. Thapa served us a limited menu for the next three days that we were there. Despite constraints such as a continuing power cut and restricted produce availability, he served us lip smacking meals which always comprised of dal, rotis, sabzi and rice - a complete indian meal. Come what may, he ensured we had a proper meal at all times.
We walked around Gangtok, taking in the damage the earthquake had left behind and getting overwhelmed by the hospitality we encountered wherever we want. Yes, the roof over their heads was taken away but that did not stop a single local from extending a warm welcome to us, sharing with us whatever little was left behind and most importantly giving us a peek into what truly formed the elements of their existence. To the naked eye, their living would seem humble and their education minimal. True, they were not educated the way we were, but the knowledge they had to share surpassed ours by all measures. Despite the limited exposure to formal education, their views on the country’s political landscape, infrastructure and development was progressive. They faced threats on a daily basis, not just of natural calamities but disasters from across the border. But their inclination to stubbornly stay put with the land they called their nation was one to be proud of. We did not get to see the natural beauty this north eastern state had to offer, but the exquisiteness of its people more than made up for it.
Finally the roads to Bagdogra were cleared and we set to leave. A couple that was stranded in the landslides made it to the hotel, things had begun to fall in place. As we settled the bills, we found the figure given much smaller than what it should have been. Something seemed amiss. On rechecking each bill, we realized that there was indeed something absent – the food bill. When questioned, we were told that the hotel wouldn’t charge us for a single meal because they couldn't provide us with a choice. When we tried to argue, Mr. Thapa exclaimed “I fed you just an Omelet and bread that night, I can never forgive myself for that”. We were lost for words.
Source: Hindustan Times |
Yes, we looked different from them, but that did not make them treat us differently. Yes, we had traveled miles to get there, but they did not ask for our passports to check our identity. Yes, they sympathized with what Tibetans went through but not once did they stop considering themselves as Indians. Yes, our hairstyles were different from many there, but they did not taunt nor pull daggers out at us. They treated us like family.
So why do we treat them any differently? An extremely peace loving and all inclusive community, why this continuing outcry against them? What have they done to deserve such abhorring treatment? They have always been sidelined, treated as foreigners and ridiculed at every opportunity. Why? And now, we kill one of them us? Why? They demand an anti-racism law, in their own country. Isn't that a shame on the rest of us? Yes, ever region has its own culture and distinction; does that mean we drive our fellow men and women from each state away? On what basis is this racial slur imposed on them? Who gave us the right to treat them so? And how on earth are we justified to decide their future? Doesn't all of this reflect our ignorance and inability to treat our own as an equal? Doesn't it make us feel small? It should – smaller than we can imagine.
We left Gangtok with a heavy feeling that day. It was not the vacation we had signed up for, but it was one that we would never forget. Sikkim had taught us an important lesson. A lesson the rest of the country will probably never learn.