Escape to an idyllic getaway in the Darjeeling Himalayas - Bara Mangwa - Part 1

Reaching Bara Mangwa

 “… and this balcony gives nice view of Kalimpong on the other side with the river below,” mused my friend as we both examined an average sized image with a more than average appeal, searched out of Google on the computer screen. We were discussing his upcoming travel plan—and that’s how I first met Bara Mangwa. I decided at that moment itself that a visit to this place is a must.

Five months later, we found ourselves outside New Jalpaiguri, a.k.a NJP railway station in North Bengal at ten in the morning loading an assortment of baggage atop a fairly decent Sumo, the ten-seater work-horse of a vehicle, all excited and looking forward to the leisurely three days nestled in the hills opposite Kalimpong.

To introduce briefly, our team comprised of me, my wife, two school going sons and my cousin with his wife. Special mention should also go to Bikash—a lean, energetic and soft spoken 24 year old from the hills of Kalimpong who was assigned as our man at the steering wheel of the Sumo for the next few days. His respect towards his vehicle, its passengers and the treacherous winding roads we were to travel together made him our friend in no time. This was an excellent bonus.

As an icing on the cake, Bikash’s elegant spiked hairdo elevated him in an instant to the level of a hero in the eyes of my twelve year old. Many youths in this part of the country are quite trendy in their appearance and our guy in the driving seat was no exception. He also had an excellent collection of MP3 in a bright red pen drive that entertained us throughout our journey.

Bikash - our man at the steering wheel

Bara Mangwa is a hamlet in the lower reaches of Darjeeling Himalayas—about 5 kilometers uphill from Teesta Bazar—another small town at the western bank of the moody river Teesta. The journey from New Jalpaiguri to Teesta Bazar was not new to us and we always looked forward to it because of its special charm.

The road outside city limits soon transformed into a decently maintained two lane National Highway 31 cutting across tea gardens and Mahananda Wild Life Sanctuary.  These forests though mostly replanted now and lacking the feel of real savage wilderness, always act as an appetiser for most visitors I know of, who have just embarked upon their journey to the hills from NJP. The wild scent of nature and the heavy clicks of the crickets often overcome the smell of vehicle fuel and the low rumble of the diesel engine giving a taste of pleasures to come.

National Highway 31 cutting through Mahananda Wild Life Sanctuary

 The forest finally ended as the first waves of hills started. Then suddenly the river Teesta sprang into view. A petrol pump, a few small road-side eateries, a single track railway bridge painted in bright silver spanning the width of the river formed the gateway from where roughly the hill starts.  It felt like the river came down to meet us here and like a guide would accompany us alongside up the mountains, lest we lose our way.

Crossing the railway track - bridge over River Teesta

The natural beauty of this part of the country never failed to marvel us. As always we stopped in between at one of the many bends from where one can enjoy the lazy turns of the river in the gorge below. Occasional white water rapids dotted the presently placid green surface of Teesta. 

Meanders River Teesta

 It was March. The river was calm and we could see the small figures of local laborers loading sand and rocks from patches on dry river bed onto a matchbox sized truck, safely parked alongside them. A white crane with a long neck was treading cautiously in the shallow pools in search of food. Its milk white plumage looked bright in the sunshine striking a brilliant contrast with the smooth water below. The split personality of the same Teesta, a raging beast when fuelled by the monsoon rain, can wipe out villages and bury big heavy construction vehicles so deep they would never to be found again. But that would be some months away.

Rocks and gravels being mined from the dry beds of River Teesta

It takes around two and half hours to reach Teesta Bazar from NJP. So en-route we had decided to go for a late breakfast at a fairly clean road side joint jutting out towards a small stream from the right flank of the road. A few other tourists were busy having generous helpings of early mid-day meal. They were obviously heading towards destinations further ahead, may be to Darjeeling or beyond and this food joint looked like one of the fairly popular pit-stops on this route.

We hit the road again and reached Teesta Bazar sometime late afternoon. The ambiance of this town was a bit disappointing with narrow roads finding its way through unclean locality and shanties of shops. A couple of vehicles of Teesta white river rafters were perhaps the only highlights around this place.

We veered off the main road from here and took a steep rugged narrow road to the left—away from the river. A signpost announcing “Bara Mangwa—5 KM” assured us that we were on the right track. Before we embarked on this trip, we were warned of two things by a well-wisher. First—this five kilometre stretch to be negotiated only by a four wheel drive. Second—the vehicle won’t go the full distance to the farm house at Bara Mangwa, where we had planned to stay, and we would have to cover the last short hilly stretch on foot with children and baggage and all. Bikash was confident however that if it did not rain, his vehicle, though not a four wheel drive, could overcome the first hurdle. And by now we had started trusting him.

Well, the five kilometre ride was quite uneventful if one excluded a few extremely steep uphill rises with a few of the sharpest hairpin bends I had ever seen. The dirt road was devoid of any tar surfaces in most places with occasional puddles of mud where the wheels spun frantically forwards while the vehicle slid backwards by a few feet. The passengers at the back seat cursed and clung to anything they could find to prevent jumping on each other’s laps. Most of the track was through dense vegetation with not a soul in sight. However, quite surprisingly we enjoyed it thoroughly with a general spirit of revelry and adventure. Perhaps it helped as our man in the driving seat with a spiked hairdo was as cool as a cucumber throughout the action filled ride, radiating the calm confidence of a man in control. Throughout this stretch all were smiling and laughing and taking jerky pictures of the tumbles we were in while ensuring that our mobile phones and purses were still in our pockets.

The car straining up the road to Bara Mangwa from Teesta Bazar

 Two friendly and elderly ladies at a small road side tea-stall showed us the exact way to the farm house which we reached soon after. The car stopped. It would go no further. Now it was time to overcome the second hurdle—the final walk. The burden of this however was literally lifted from our shoulders by a couple of men from the farm house whom we found patiently waiting ready to carry our heavy baggage on their back. We followed them like a group of school kids out on a nature walk on the short winding trail with gentle ups and downs amidst a mosaic of wilderness and terrace farming of vegetables.

Walking through the terraced vegetable gardens of young beanstalks

It took only twenty minutes including stops to admire and photograph the odd butterfly, a chirping unfamiliar little bird, the curls of young fern leaves, a small waterfall and a cautious investigation of a road side burrow from where some petite unseen animal was flinging out earth in an apparent intention to keep its house clean. The polite porters patiently waited for us with smiling faces as we took our own sweet time in the cool bright sun.  

Friendly helping hand looking back to ensure that his guests were keeping up

A little girl from around was watching us with wide open eyes as we were turning young. She was neatly dressed and had a yellow withering flower in her hand. She held it gently as if to make sure that it didn’t get hurt. I asked if I could take a photo of her. With the grace of a princess, she nodded very gently. So gently, that I thought for a moment that she didn’t hear me. As I waited she nodded again and stood there very still, almost posing for the camera with a candid stare. I clicked a photo of her and smiled back, thanking her. Like a wax doll springing into life, with a big grin she turned around with great excitement and danced up the path behind her to possibly where her home was—holding the yellow flower ever so gently all the way as far as I could see her before she disappeared around a bend.

Young girl with yellow flower

I did not see her again during our stay there. I did not try to find out either who she was. Some magical moments are better kept untouched.

We walked on for a few steps more. And then suddenly, after a final turn—there in front was the balcony, the same one that had drawn us to this place—much more beautiful in real than what I had pictured in my mind.

Panorama of Bara Mangwa Farmhouse