Mechukha diary
It was a journey down the memory lane, albeit on an unknown path. The drive from Aalo, or Along, to Mechukha Valley in the western part of Arunachal Pradesh in a public Sumo vehicle is almost 10 hours. The journey is arduous and the road pathetic.
So who else can be the best ‘saathi’ in this 104-km of ‘zindagi ka safar’? And you guessed it right. Bollywood never fails a lone traveller and the driver.
One should not be surprised if he or she catches a Bollywood tune anywhere in Arunachal Pradesh, where young lovers woo their beaus singing Hindi love songs and 10-year-olds casually hum ‘thande thande paani mein nahana chahiye’ in the bathroom. Here I am, looking to experience the simple ways of tribal life, exquisite and ethereal, and Bollywood comes with its bundle of emotions, evoking memories seldom remembered.
The Chitrahaar (a popular musical programme on Doordarshan in the late eighties) started with the car engine. Rimo, the driver, was an extremely romantic gentleman and one can understand that from his collection of Bollywood songs.
The journey began with livelier songs, electric and funky. As the vehicle ascended, the tunes changed to youthful and coquettish with the songs from the nineties.
As Alka Yagnik cooed love’s promises and Kumar Sanu teased his paramour and praised her kohl-lined eyes, the vehicle danced on the unpaved muddy road, its rhythm in sync with the Bollywood beats. As soon as Udit Narayan’s forlorn voice sought answer from his allegedly infidel lover, a surprise bump jolted me to the backseat of the Sumo. Two of my co-passengers sang along Narayan. The homogeneity of pathos in the voices of the three singers was commendable. But before the trio could finish the song, it was already time for lunch. By now, the air felt colder and the clouds denser. The ‘Welcome’ gate read, “Mechukha 89 km.”
Rimo ji (bhaiya or sir at times) had time-travelled to the seventies and his songs too change mood. Kishore Kumar and Lata Mangeshkar dominated Rimo’s list. Zindagi ka safar hai ye kaisa safar, he must have wondered several times while ferrying strangers and friends to their respective destinations.
Palkon ke peechhe se kya tumne keh dala, wondered Mohammad Rafi. And immediately Sharmila Tagore’s dimpled smile flashed in my mind. We were in the sixties and the transition was as amazing as my transportation to the Chitrahaar days. Those Wednesday evenings were never to be missed. The black and white television screen would suddenly be filled with colours, as much as one’s imaginations could go wild.
Memories flooded my mind. The lyrics faded. The Siang flowed below, turning with the road and then vanishing behind the trees. Aate jaate khubsoorat awara sadkon pe, Kishore Kumar sang.
‘Welcome to Mechukha’. The wondering road finally ended at our destination. The marathon Chitrahaar was over. Rim and the remaining co-passengers bid me goodbye. I hummed, ‘Aate jate khoobsurat awara sadkon pe/Kabhi kabhi ittefaq se/Kitne anjaan log mil jaate hain/Unmein se kuchh log bhool jaate hain/Kuchh yaad reh jaate hain.’
~ NM