Kolkata to Kaziranga

When David Cameron hears the words, “may I join the party?” he probably rejoices and gets the membership forms out. If he ever goes to India and someone asks the same question, he’d best check his flies.

I think I’d better explain this hadn’t I?

Ok, let’s start at the beginning. Remember I was in the Lytton Hotel in Kolkata, slowly getting wazzed on vodka? NWell, it’s not a situation I’m too used to you understand. So, understandably enough, I fell into the arms of Morpheus in lickety spit time. Or maybe it was jet lag? Yeah, I’ll go for that, jet lag! Well, I was up wit the lark and had a stroll around Sudder Street. If you’ve never been to India, then Sudder Sreett is all your stereotypes in one. Cows wandering aimlessly, people sleeping and washing in the street, rickshaws and their touts jockeying for business and more street traders and touts than you can shake a lathi at. Something the local police do with alarming regularity. But there’s none of the threatening demeanour that the tourist encounters in Dheli, Jaipur or Agra. It put a proper smile on my face! I even managed a smile at a sign indicating the local piggery. A particularly persistent tout took my chuckles as sign that I wanted more of the same. Grabbing my arm he attempted to take me to other similar establishments. At least that’s what I hope he was doing with his entreaties to “Please come, you see meat, I have meat for you lots down here, this way, please come”

After breakfast it was a brief flight to Guwahati via Argatala. I don’t know where they get these air stewardesses but by gum they can buckle my seatbelt anyday! My contact, Jyoti, was waiting at the airport for me and I was soon settled in the Hotel Atithi. Jyoti left me to unpack. Me, not him… oh you know what I mean! After an hour he hadn’t come back so, camera in hand I set off to explore Guwahati. Trying to take decent pics in the dark is hard enough, when you’re surrounded by a crowd of curious Indians, it’s madness! Still, everyone was in good spirits and didn’t feel threatened at all. Luckily I managed a few decent shots but there’s more blurred rubbish if I’m honest.

“Just round this corner and then back to the hotel”, thinks I before bumping into Jyoti. He says he can take me to a restaurant where they serve traditional Assamese food, would I like to go? Well, why not! Twenty minutes later and I was stuffed. I had a cracking Assamese thali and my lips were on fire because of the amount of chilli used. It was daamned hot going in, I hope it’s not the same going the other way!

Back at the hotel, I attempted to use the hotel’s “free wi-fi” internet access. Two hours later and the manager and I are still struggling. I eventually settled for sitting in the coffee house and got access from the ground floor server. Mailed a few people and then went to bed. Oh, all right then, I went back to my room and had a couple more vodkas. There, happy now?

Next morning, after breakfast, there’s a knock at the door and a chap introduces himself to me as my guide, Manoosh. Into the 4x4 and we’re off to Kamkyha Temple. What a place. I’m, blown away with it all. The temple used to be renowned through India for performing ritualistic animal sacrifices. They tell me they no longer practice that and the red on the goats and doves is just vermillion. I’m not totally convinced by that and neither are the animals. I’m sure I saw a worried look in that goat’s eye.

The place is wonderful. Priests and pilgrims by the bucketload and more smiles than all the X factor finalists put together. We stroll around, totally unhassled. I’ve no idea if that’s a real word or not. MS Word doesn’t seem to think so but I like it and it seems appropriate. The temple is on a hill overlooking the city and yet further up, is another temple. The place is deserted. Clear views over Guwahati and the holy Brahmaputra are a bonus. Culture, serenity and a scenic view! Come on, what else do you want?

Back on the road and stopping only to pick Jyoti up on our way out of Guwahati. We’re heading for Kaziranga National Park, the home of the one horned rhino. What? Yes, I know, you read all this and still heard nowt about any party. Look slow down, get yourself a drink, it’s coming soon… a bit like who killed thingymabob in “Eastcorryoaks”… or whatever it’s called. Now where was I. Ah yes, back on the highway to Kaziranga. Well, highway is a definite misnomer. It’s nowt but a dirt track, followed by a mile or two of tarmac, then a few hundred metres of concrete and then back to dirt track. It’s backbreaking! Kaziranga is about 190km from Guwahati. I guess for us in the tarmacced West that would take about, what shall we say, a couple of hours? Yes, I know you’re all a bunch of cloggers but I’m being good here. Here in NE India, it’s going to take about four hours, so we decide to take a break halfway for a spot of food.

So there I am in this roadside dhaba. Now these places are basic. They’re the Indian equivalent of a “Greasy Joe’s café”: Good honest food, for travellers. So I’ve ordered rice, dal, dry fry chicken and a bottle of water. All accompanied with fresh chillies and two pickles. There’s still change from three hundred rupees when I pay the bill. After I’ve burped hearty congratulations to Mr. Chakrobaty, the chef, I decide that a wazz is in order before continuing on that bloody road/track. I think I better start a new paragraph, it’s worth it!

Ok, you’ve waited long enough. This bit comes complete with a drumroll….”dddddddrrrrrrrrrrrrr”…Hey, hang on, I just had a thought! Perhaps you could imagine a host of cherubic angels blowing trumpets. They can be descending from their heavenly abode upon a triumph if you really wish? Go on, imagine them in their little crash helmets and leather jackets, with “Heaven’s Angels” on the back….maybe not eh? Can you tell, I’m still ploughing my way through the stolly? Right, back to the plot…

Where was I? Oh yes…so there I was, out back of the dhaba. No inside toilets here. Just a bit of a brick leanto with a couple of footplates and a channel for the waste. As I’m there, contemplating existence, as it were, I have a feeling of somebody behind me. I turn my eyes as far as I can without moving my head. You lads will know how to do it. It’s just not done to be wazzing and to be seen having a look about. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Manoosh waiting to use the leanto after me. I do hope you’re still reading this; I’ll be setting an exam later. Anyhow, once I’m done, I let on to Manoosh that I’ve seen him. His answer confused and amused me in equal amounts… “Oh hello, may I join the party?”

See, now you’ve read it, you’re disappointed! Well bugger you, it made me laugh.
Next day I had to ask Manoosh why he used that phrase. He’s only a lad. Twenty four to be exact and, last year, he was going to Kolkata for the first time. His mother, wanting him to behave appropriately at all times advised him that mentioning bodily functions in public was not the done thing. You know, even though I laughed at the time, I now feel guilty. Maybe he did use the wrong words but it’s a damned fine better phrase than some of the filth that the kids I work with come out with. It was done in all innocence and, if I could speak Hindi, I would hope any lingua faux pas of mine would be ignored.


Back in the jeep and two hours later we stop on the road outside Kaziranga national park. I’m ecstatic that I see two rhinos in the distance. Chicken pakora for my dinner. Bugger me, it comes with two dips. One, a tomato sauce, is reet enough. The other, a chilli sauce, is like Beelzebub’s mouthwash! I thought the Assamese thali was hot. This one takes that to a party, gets it drunk and snogs its mother…just for a laugh!

Oh yeah! I had a beer tonight. 100/- for a 640ml bottle of Kingfisher. The Indians put glycerol in the beer and I really don’t like it. So, I order two cokes and hit the stolly again. Na night all.