Panthshala is a government run lodge in the wayward town of Panchlingeshwar, located halfway up on the lee of a small hillock. Panchlingeshwar is mistakenly known as a hill station. It is one of those places one might not particularly like but at the same time might appear snobbish if he were to call it bland; so it's best to throw words like quaint and rustic around and leave the reader with sunny happy images of rolling meadows and grazing cows. Which is what it is. With added dung for visual pleasure.
The trip was supposed to be a 5 day one, which was summarily curtailed to 4 days after we realised that our entire plan revolved around going to beaches and enjoying the sea breezes, and then increased to 5 days again when my parents realised "Hey, we're fine with that!". So we began with a two and a half hour drive to Mondarmoni which is a coastal town in southern West Bengal. Now if you enjoy the sea and hope to derive the same sort of pleasure from wallowing on the beaches of West Bengal or Orissa as you would at say Goa or Puducherry, you would be sorely disappointed. Abandon thoughts of grainy white shores with gentle waves lapping at your feet while a blazing sun gives you a wicked dry tan - something you might encounter in Pondy. The beaches here tend to have a more local earthy flavour. The sand is clayey with black streaks appearing sporadically where the sea has washed the sand away. Tiny dots mar the beach and ever so often you'd see a tiny red crab scuttle hurriedly into its hole. The sun is subdued and the breeze tugging at your arm is a wet dusty one. Everything is imbued with a lazy haze that pervades the inner reaches of the state with just as much dolor. Fine dining is a thing yet to exert its influence here (which might not be a bad thing altogether), so you'd find yourself lunching at one of the hundreds of tiny quaint stalls lining the sea shore, gazing at the backdrop of the thousands of resorts dotting the mainland. Every once in a while a motor vehicle of the kind that Mayukh Bose could put together in about 2 hours comes sputtering into view ferrying its passengers to the delta about 5 kilometers yonder. In short, everything about this place seems to scream "Where's the booze?!" and although a rogue breeze or a smiling fisherman might point you in the right direction, a couple of disapproving parents might be a serious hindrance to partaking. So bring your friends and keep your family at bay should you ever choose to brave these waters.
Day 2 and 3 saw us holed up in a nondescript hotel in New Digha, about 10 kilometres south along the coast. I can almost imagine you wince at the sheer banality of a Bong family going to Digha, and you'd be right to. I had been here about 14 years ago and from a quick comparison of what I recollect and what I see, nothing much has changed apart from the three pronged lamp-posts every step along the way that our present government is so fond of. Throngs of people still sit and walk and prance and wash in a recalcitrant sea while hawkers, vendors and two-bit merchants sell their trade all over the place. Among the goods being sold are toys, sea-shells, fried sea food, idols and nothing much you wouldn't find at any other place. Among the things being rented out are rides on ponies and a certain sense of dignity should you choose to ride one. A howling, almost wailing breeze keeps rapping at your window no matter where you stay and unless you have a penchant for friend shrimps or are a middle aged person on a low budget weekend trip, I don't see any reason why you'd choose to come here.
Day 4 might have been spent in another coastal town called Chandipur in Orissa had I not broken down and then broken some furniture at the horror of spending another precious day of my vacation listening to Dad snoring like a dying wildebeest by an indolent sea. So we did the math, chalked some figures and then threw them away before setting out for a little lodge in Orissa in the Nilagiri hills. As the Alto sped away from Digha, I crossed my fingers and prayed that Day 4 would at least be a little less monotonous.
To be continued..
The trip was supposed to be a 5 day one, which was summarily curtailed to 4 days after we realised that our entire plan revolved around going to beaches and enjoying the sea breezes, and then increased to 5 days again when my parents realised "Hey, we're fine with that!". So we began with a two and a half hour drive to Mondarmoni which is a coastal town in southern West Bengal. Now if you enjoy the sea and hope to derive the same sort of pleasure from wallowing on the beaches of West Bengal or Orissa as you would at say Goa or Puducherry, you would be sorely disappointed. Abandon thoughts of grainy white shores with gentle waves lapping at your feet while a blazing sun gives you a wicked dry tan - something you might encounter in Pondy. The beaches here tend to have a more local earthy flavour. The sand is clayey with black streaks appearing sporadically where the sea has washed the sand away. Tiny dots mar the beach and ever so often you'd see a tiny red crab scuttle hurriedly into its hole. The sun is subdued and the breeze tugging at your arm is a wet dusty one. Everything is imbued with a lazy haze that pervades the inner reaches of the state with just as much dolor. Fine dining is a thing yet to exert its influence here (which might not be a bad thing altogether), so you'd find yourself lunching at one of the hundreds of tiny quaint stalls lining the sea shore, gazing at the backdrop of the thousands of resorts dotting the mainland. Every once in a while a motor vehicle of the kind that Mayukh Bose could put together in about 2 hours comes sputtering into view ferrying its passengers to the delta about 5 kilometers yonder. In short, everything about this place seems to scream "Where's the booze?!" and although a rogue breeze or a smiling fisherman might point you in the right direction, a couple of disapproving parents might be a serious hindrance to partaking. So bring your friends and keep your family at bay should you ever choose to brave these waters.
Day 2 and 3 saw us holed up in a nondescript hotel in New Digha, about 10 kilometres south along the coast. I can almost imagine you wince at the sheer banality of a Bong family going to Digha, and you'd be right to. I had been here about 14 years ago and from a quick comparison of what I recollect and what I see, nothing much has changed apart from the three pronged lamp-posts every step along the way that our present government is so fond of. Throngs of people still sit and walk and prance and wash in a recalcitrant sea while hawkers, vendors and two-bit merchants sell their trade all over the place. Among the goods being sold are toys, sea-shells, fried sea food, idols and nothing much you wouldn't find at any other place. Among the things being rented out are rides on ponies and a certain sense of dignity should you choose to ride one. A howling, almost wailing breeze keeps rapping at your window no matter where you stay and unless you have a penchant for friend shrimps or are a middle aged person on a low budget weekend trip, I don't see any reason why you'd choose to come here.
Day 4 might have been spent in another coastal town called Chandipur in Orissa had I not broken down and then broken some furniture at the horror of spending another precious day of my vacation listening to Dad snoring like a dying wildebeest by an indolent sea. So we did the math, chalked some figures and then threw them away before setting out for a little lodge in Orissa in the Nilagiri hills. As the Alto sped away from Digha, I crossed my fingers and prayed that Day 4 would at least be a little less monotonous.
To be continued..
1 comment:
Finish it you fool of a Took!
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