My Journey Part 1

My journey into what I am today started out on a cold January Sunday morning, 2008. I took up a job with a construction company,
my job description I would rather not specify, I found out later that my job has a various descriptions and I haven't been paid from the time I started working till the day I quit. I am not going to share much about how lousy my job was. I just want to share the experience, the sheer fun of traveling into the unknown and the promising sufferings from loneliness when I was away from my wife, my daughter and my folks.
I had just met my 2 colleagues few days ahead before we headed off; the other was my brother in law, so when we hit the wet roads in a Sumo, that morning, all we talked about was how cold it was. We headed off without breakfast, knowing very well that on the way we won't find anything to eat as it was a Sunday (Tips for Travelers: Do not expect Food on Sundays while on the roads to anywhere, here in Mizoram, be it on the way to paradise...you will have to eat ahead or carry your own or go hungry). We bought some snacks lots cigarettes and we were all cool with it, apart from me my friends were worried about something and I never bothered to ask them, until one of the guys told me that they had sent two trucks ahead of us the night before carrying Earth movers and they might not be able to get across a broken bridge at "Dapchhuah" or "Tut", there was an alternative side road, which was muddy and slippery beyond my imagination. Anyways we got to that place and we looked around for the trucks, to our surprise they went down that dirt track crossed the river and were well on their way...we were very happy because one problem was solved.
Now it was our turn to cross the track which's inclined at about 65 degrees down, we were confident because our ride has a 4 X 4 gear, with new sets of tyres, but we were mistaken as the tyres got no traction, we slipped and slided down hills with only the engine and gears to support our cruise, the wheels were spinning and the guy driving was in sweats, I was very very worried, then we saw about 30 people ahead of us trying to pull a car uphill on that dirt, I was thinking about how we were gonna stop or avert that frigging car and those people, there was a widening on the road just about four meters so my brother in law turned the wheel and we slide into that little widening and one of the front tyres hit a big stone and we banged to a halt, when I looked up and opened my eyes everyone broke out into a grin. Anyhow the car passed us and we started our engine and after a few slipping and grinding, we had little traction and we danced a few more meters downwards and we finally hit the gravels on the bank of the river, in spite of the drizzle the water level was low and the driver revved the engine and we went across.
We were headed for a godforsaken place called Marpara, to construct roads along the Indo-Bangladesh border, my expectations weren't very big. Anyhow we met the truckers about 60 kilometers from the bridge and we asked them how in the hell did they manage to cross that dirt track, ask a stupid question and you get a stupid answer...Of course they drank spirits of the wild and summoned their courage and as they told us they just flew...plus they had tons on their trailer with six wheels plus a 4X4 gear. We left them where they were at, as we were of the same skin and as it was getting late and cold we had our own pit stop, then our journey really picked up. We had a cell phone with a media player which was useless for communication as there was no network where we were going. We started playing songs and before we know it, it was already getting dark, we were tipsy, hungry and damn talkative, and all we got that evening was kindered spirits and cigarettes.
We reached Pukzing at around 2100 IST, (notes to travelers: If you ever plan to travel this way brace yourselves for the ROADS, they are worse than your worst nightmares) we waited for the trucks and checked our machines and we went to a place where we were to camp for the night. It was at the ' Grand Vizier’ (VCP president) of the village.
This Place is famous for its caves or' Puk', the largest in Mizoram and they are at very steep places. During the Mizoram Insurgency period the militants used to hide in these caves...I was told while nursing a very rare commodity in a red plastic cup, that there are still militants who hides in the village after crossing the borders from Bangladesh and I was told their women folks were things to look at, that lifted my spirits a little. Later, when we cross that village while going to
Aizawl or back, my biological GPS flares up for the pretty ladies with Guns...but I never got that lucky. One funny story about this place is that there are more men than Women...my Impression was 'Bling!!! Homoland'. Our Earthmover operator told us the ratio...for every single girl there are 10 males, Imagine!

So somehow that night we ate like hogs, and slept. The next morning was bad memory, yes the hangover was that bad, but we had to move on as we have only twenty kilometers to hit, unload our machines and move them further 25 kilometers to our actual site, the whole day was planned. The grand monk of the village had slaughtered a goat and we were in the mood until we saw our mutton, rare, almost fried, puddled in water but we ate anyways just because we missed lotsa meals the day before.
We moved on, twenty kilometers my ass, it took us ninety five minutes to get to Marpara, reason was the Roads again. As I looked out, I got shell shocked cause we were going into major culture change, from Mizos to Tuikuk's to Chakmas. It’s not bad at all, but knowing we were going to live with the Chakmas brought back the asinine smell of their delicacy called ‘ Dangpuithu’ or ‘Sidol’ in Chakma, it’s a little bit of everything amphibious anything that crawls, fermented and packed in banana leaves, open it and you die. You gotta smell to believe it.
We reached Marpara mid-day on Monday, we first unloaded our earthmovers and we headed for our transit camp. The first thing that hits me was the condition of the roads in and out of the village no black toppings, Dusty when dry and Mucked up muddy when it rains, we dance with our MUV when it rain, literally dancing. Than there is the segregation of the people, Mizos and chakmas, and the language we have to use, we interact with the chakmas more so we seldom use mizo language, we used mostly Hindi. I saw this sign; Way to MAR ‘S’, I stared at it until it dawned on me that it meant Marpara South…that’s where most of the Chakmas live.
We marched our machines towards our site which is 25 kilometers into the jungle from Marpara, it took us all day to move that damn D-50 Bulldozer halfway, while the dozer was on the roads we moved the excavator ahead and when we reached our Camp which was still under construction, I was very excited cause it was right there on the banks of the MAR river, it was January, the weather was pleasant and I was yet to find out how comfortable it is to live there.
Our camp was and is still, is in a place called ‘Sachan’ . Our dozer was still on the roads when we got back from our site at around 1400 hrs, we decided to park it, My brother in law had a friend in Marpara so we decided to go and clean up at his place, after that we all caged up inside our MUV, we had no heaters so we decided to get the Natural body tonic, we got hold of a local boy bribed him, coz its very prohibited, but still he managed to find us the original stuff, the infamous Chakma whisky ‘Duichhuani’ and we were all Halleluia! ( Note: It was hard to find the fluid everyday so it was only on weekends that we hunted when we felt like drinking, and darn it was really difficult as the region is in famine and they had no rice to prepare the moonshine).
So we got down to work, setting up, checking the machines and stuff, I was actually just watching cause I don’t know shit about those gargantuan beast of a machine. Everything was alright for the next two days but on the third day there was a Chakma strike, the reason they had yet to receive their land compensations from the National Building and Construction Company, the strike was indefinite, so we made plans to head for home and sit the strike out. We left for Aizawl that night, we had food and drinks and we had to toss a coin as who is to drive first and be the last to drink, I was the last to drive and I was very happy as we ploughed on our way home…until the second guy woke me up at dawn 100 kms away from home and told me it was my turn…I calculated quickly the total distance is one eighty so divided by three is sixty kms each per driver, I was mad as hell everybody was asleep except that ass who woke me forty kilometers early, he snickered and pulled out a bottle and handed me, we argued but hey the guy was sleepy he gave me fuel and I obliged…So I drove home.
So people drink responsibly, Drive on Horse power not Rum power!!! Adios Till the next Journey.

Next: My journey Back to MAR ‘S’; the real deal.