Tag Archives: Brahmaputra

Where the river becomes the sky: Dibru Shaikowa

24 Sunday Jul 2022

Posted by in Assam, India

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The trip to this sanctuary was added to an assignment in the tea gardens in Assam that began on a Sunday. So I decided to fly into Dibrugarh a day earlier and visit the Dibru Shaikowa national park, renowned for its rich bird life. My friend Nisha decided to join me and later extended her stay to visit Kaziranga. We took the flight together from Delhi to Dibrugarh and landed there at 9:30 in the morning.

It was at the end of March which is usually the best time to visit this region. But when we landed at Dibrugarh airport, the sky was overcast. We were met at the airport by Sanjeeb, our guide. He took us straight away to the camp on Majuri Beel, a lake adjoining the park. The camp was very basic but its location was amazing – at the very edge of the lake so we could greet the fishermen rowing in their tiny canoes.  It had rained heavily the night before and the waters of the Brahmaputra had moved swiftly into the lake, swelling its level. This made it dangerous for us to go into the park.  So, we decided to go for a long drive instead. See https://wordpress.com/post/ocdfortravel.com/981

Early next morning we headed off to the park. It was completely overcast but thankfully there wasn’t any rain. We took a jeep and went to one of the banks of the park where a small canoe was waiting to take us to the grassy islands that dot the park.

You have to know that the Dibru Shaikowa national park is a highly unusual park. It is a swamp forest, on exposed patches of land, completely surrounded by the Brahmaputra and Lohit rivers in the north and the Dibru river in the south.  Each of these rivers is massive with many streams. So, picture tiny bits of grasslands encircled by countless fingers of water and you will see Dibru Shaikowa.  Add to this a dense cloud-laden sky and you will have a vision of us on that day, with water above, below, and around us.

As we sat in the tiny canoe, I wasn’t sure if the sky was seeping into the water or if the water was dissolving into the sky. In that brief moment, I thought I was suspended in space. I struggled to come out of my trance as we approached the island. In the grasslands, we walked in a single line, trampling dense undergrowth, listening to bird sounds. A weak sun came up, giving us hope to see the parrotbills. But soon, the clouds moved in and the sun gave up completely. We had to return. We raced back to the canoe but by the time we sat, it felt as if the whole sky had collapsed. It poured torrents of rain. Our raincoats were hapless fragments in the fierce downpour. But sitting there, soaking, the canoe swaying side to side, I felt immersed in the beauty and fury of nature. And that moment will stay as the abiding memory of this park. Just as it remains beholden to nature, all months of the year struggling to stay afloat, that showery morning, so were we…

Bhupen Hazarika’s Bridge

24 Sunday Jul 2022

Posted by in Assam, India

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It was 10 in the morning. We had a full day ahead and it was clear we could not go through our original plan of visiting the Dibru Shaikowa national park. It had rained suddenly the previous night and the swollen waters of the Brahmaputra had made park access impossible. So, we did what I have been wanting to do for a long time: drive across the longest bridge in India over water, the Bhupen Hazarika Setu.

The bridge, spans nearly 10 km, over river Lohit, a major tributary of the Brahmaputra. It is named in honour of Bhupen Hazarika, singer, and lyricist, an icon of Assam. His deep baritone, soaked in the culture of the northeast, connected this region to the rest of India.

We left our camp in Majuli Beel and in a breeze, we reached Dhola, on the southern side of the bridge. Our plan was to cross over to Sadiya on the northern end and then drive all the way up to Roing in Arunachal. When we got onto the bridge, it was completely empty. The sky was overcast. The river below was vast and unending. The small islands in the river were shrouded in mist.

And we were overcome by a sense of freedom, of joy, of being one with the place. We walked, skipped, jumped, and drove along with Hazarika’s haunting voice lifting us, his song ‘Dil Hoon Hoon’ playing at full blast on the car stereo.  

Off the bridge, we drove slowly past Sadiya, the place where Hazarika was born. Further up, we entered Arunachal Pradesh and at Bolung, we stopped at his statue. Called the statue of brotherhood, it looked amazingly life-like. Perhaps he was bemused that people here sometimes called him more Arunachali, than Assamese…

Soon, the landscape became more rugged with extensive bamboo plantations. People looked and dressed differently.  It was amazing that just as you cross the border into another state, how things could be completely different from what you left behind.  As we entered Roing, we were welcomed by towering snow-capped mountains. We stopped at this fantastic bakery for buns and great coffee. We picked up locally grown, dried ginger and elephant apples. Then we drove all the way back to the camp.  

It was dark by the time we got back. We went owl-spotting and got lucky with the Brown Hawk Owl and the Oriental Scops Owl. As we walked in the still night, millions of fireflies surrounded us. Nisha, like a magician, caught them in her palm and slowly released them. Somewhere, a bird called out, maybe its last song before settling in for the night. And, with a soulful Hazarika-type sigh, our day came to a close.