"Boots on, we're going on an adventure"

by Stuti Khetan (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

Making a local connection India

It had been 15 days since I was in the cleanest, and remotest village of India - Mawlynnong. The name is complicated, but the people really simple. They looked at me funny though. I'm not sure if it was because I was probably the only outsider trying to settle into their little nomadic community, or the fact that I had shocking pink hair at the time. The elders kept their distance, but the children played football with me in the various open fields until every sun set. Nobody spoke my language there, and their understandable hesitance stemming from their history to trust a stranger left me mostly lonely. I had already bathed in the famous crystal blue holy Nokhlikhai waterfall a few kms away from the village, walked the instagrammable root bridges that the Meghalaya region was famous for, and eaten the spicy, locally grown delicacies. One night, I lit a fire outside my little bamboo hut and sat on a big stone to read. I was planning to get out of there the next morning, since there wasn't much left to do. I thought I had already learnt everything the village had to teach. A tiny man walked past me. To my surprise, he came back and asked me in English, "Are you up for an adventure?" I screamed YES and quickly went in to grab my coat and boots. He waited for all but a minute and then started walking. I followed him. No words exchanged. From the flower-margined path, he took a sharp right into the grass, that in no time turned into a dense forest. At this point, I was scared because it was just him and I, and nobody else around. He walked with confidence, without street lights. I turned around to run but realised that I had no sense of direction in the dark and so continued to follow him. I checked my phone and there was no network, of course. After almost 15 lengthy minutes, he stopped at what seemed like a dried up plateau. There were a few other men there, waiting for him. They had a fire of their own and sat around it in a circle with locally brewed beers and bongs. The man who had led me up to there cut up a tree branch, shaped it into the fanciest seat of the circle and offered me to sit. I couldn't see anything but black in all directions except the sky. The sky was sprinkled with white paint that night. I gasped, and then quickly came back to my reality. I was offered the beer and bong but decided to stay sober, fearing the consequences of intoxication. Meanwhile. everyone went back to sharing a life story each while the others listened patiently. The guy who got me up to there translated for me in broken English. They spoke of life and death, love and heartbreak, success and failure. It was my turn soon, and I had no idea what to tell them. Nothing in my life was as significant as the content they had, but they were extremely curious about the outside world. In no time, I felt warm and comfortable. I loosened up, hugged anybody who cried and got hugged when I did. We laughed till the sun rose. And when the sun rose, I realised where we were. On top of the cliff off which the grand Nokhlikhai flows down in fury. It was like a psychedelic world up there, all colours brighter than usual, shades of orange and pink on the rocks and valleys just blew my mind. There were tiny caves and tunnels for the water, and it was all completely natural! Well done universe, well done. Suddenly, all the mythological and Godly stories I had heard about the falls seemed true. I realised why this village was so proud of their geography, and why the water was worshipped so fervently. The source was literal heaven. These men gave me a part of their village that I'm not sure even the villagers themselves know of.