IN THE SLOW LANE

You cannot savour the mystical offerings of Arunachal Pradesh on a quick site-hopping tour. NEETOLE MITRA chooses to slow down and relish the intriguing tales that permeate the tropical rainforests on the banks of the Siang.

- NEETOLE MITRA

ONE LEFT TURN PAST THE Ranaghat Bridge and the pitched National Highway 513 is all but gone, leaving us to navigate a mud trail. The jeep Sukumar Tayeng is driving, rattles. To break the silence of the green overgrowth around us, I ask Tayeng, “How far do we have to go?” He replies, “It’s a very old car.” I look up inquiringly, spot a hearing device plugged into his ear, and fall quiet, musing about the age of the vehicle, even more aware of the rattles now.

It’s finally not raining today after a week of torrential downpours. As the car struggles over wet mud, I think aloud (really loud this time), “I hope we don’t get stuck in this slush!” The wheels squeal, and the vehicle dramatically sinks to the right. We are stuck. The engine cries for mercy as Tayeng pedals the gas. Eventually, he reaches behind my seat and pulls out a dao (a single-edged Chinese sword), smiling at me as he does this.

Tayeng has a faraway look in his eyes. He’s a well-built man in his early 60s, wears a safari hat, has a hunch and a waxy mole on his upper lip, and now, he’s tightening the wheels of his 21-year-old jeep with a dao. We are in the middle of the jungle. No one knows I’m here, and both my cellular networks have abandoned me. When he returns to the car smiling at me and raising his weapon-wielding hand, I am already ducking before I realise he’s put the dao back, and his muddy hands have returned to the steering wheel.