|
Dibrugarh is a port city, towards the far-east of Assam. The problems that the people here (and in Tinsukia) have with the ULFA are understandable. This is a Hindi dominant belt and resembles any small town in north India. In fact, almost all the businessmen we met were non-Assamese, and like all of the north-east, army presence is large. One such north Indian led us to Hotel Kusum early in the morning as the bus ride had lasted just 8-9 hours over the 477 kms. The hotel had advertised a package ride which included the ferry ride to Pasighat. This had been the most important reason why we opted for Pasighat as the first place of visit in Arunachal. Sadly, the bookings had finished at the hotel and we had to go about reaching the port and taking a ferry by ourselves.
We checked out in two hours and took a waiting jeep to the river bank. We had been told by Mr. Bora that there was actually just one ferry a day to Pasighat, and all the rest that plied the route ended up at Oiramghat, a place 27 km from Pasighat. As luck would have it, we missed the direct ferry.
As we boarded, paying Rs. 70 per person, someone loaded a car onto the boat. Apparently, crossing the Brahmaputra was a shorter and far cheaper way of traveling from Dibrugarh to Pasighat. Driving the car would require a round-about, rigorous travel ordeal. Here, one could pay Rs. 1200 and finish the journey in 8 hours. Well, you pay only if you do not have connections with the Assam government!
Mr. Gogoi, the man who had boarded with his car was a young man on a business trip. Since it was a relative of his who was handling the Assam government’s ferry business, he was traveling free. An affable fellow, he began rattling on about his many businesses and the opportunities he was trying to create with his marketing company in the north-east. Meanwhile, the ferry was floating blissfully through a narrow stream of the river. A few ducks and migrant birds looked up from near the shores, fishermen boats would occasionally glide past, few hamlets appeared from time to time, one neelgai surprised us with its sudden appearance and quick disappearance and at various points, men, women and children just stared blankly at our ferry, or so we had learnt to think.
I have to say that this ferry ride is one of the highlights of north-east. The calmness of the river is shattered by the reverbs from the boat’s engine, but the sheer experience of traveling with locals in such a vehicle is pleasing. However, it must be said that the return journey (which apparently takes less time since its downstream) could also be a good option.
We had been thinking furiously about the subsequent stretch from Oiramghat to Pasighat. It would be 3 in the evening by the time we reached Oiramghat and how were we to go to Pasighat? Why bother when Mr. Gogoi and his car is around! He offered to take us to Pasighat. From the friendliness he showed towards us, we had seen this offer coming, and admittedly, we had at times worked quietly towards achieving this free lift. After reaching Oiramghat without any alarms and after watching the locals, through amazing dexterity, transfer the car from the boat to the road, we enjoyed what was to be our only comfortable ride in Arunachal Pradesh.
As if to prove his long reach in bureaucracy, Gogoi was received by an Education Secretary of Arunachal, whose presence meant that nobody would check our permits at the checkpost! The casual and carefree life of the state was visible immediately as Gogoi rode from Oiramghat to Pasighat via a place called Rani which would host Pasighat’s new airport. The humour of the Arunachal bureaucrat was complemented by the unhurried way of life. It was a very enjoyable ride till we reached Pasighat, by which time it was dark; at 4:30! The two bid us farewell at the Hotel Siang (recommended by Mr. Bora and a sister hotel of Kusum). We could only get a single-bed room, and the receptionist looked unnecessarily glum. As the Education Secretary had said, “Welcome to Arunachal”.
Pasighat
If the most important tourist spot is a horticultural college, the town mustn’t be too much fun. That was precisely how Pasighat was; a town with absolutely no desire to attract tourists (even offbeat ones), with a small market and a decent bakery to show for near the empty bus-stand, I won’t recommend this for anyone who is looking for a rocking night out. At seven in the evening, the market and the bakery were shut, and I wonder if the already empty bus-stand had been infested with ghosts.
Our hotel receptionist, a young man in his late 20s, had been quite cold thus far and looked utterly officious. We had asked him to book our tickets with a Tata Sumo operator for the following day, for Along, a town in the West Siang district
|