Ilam’s gathering mist

[parakhi]

http://www.parakhi.com/news/2012/01/08/squatters-announce-nationwide-strike-on-january-17

January 7, 2012 By: chiya-pasaley

Of the many things Ilam is famous for, suicide lends a dark shade to a list that includes tea, cardamom, ginger and milk. I have heard it said that one of the highest suicide rates in the country (although recently in decline) is associated with the district’s climate. Having just been there, I think the connection does need some thought.

“Really, the climate here is very strange”, my cousin tells me looking out of the window of a small sweet shop in Fikkal, a local market centre and a departure point towards Darjeeling, India. We are at the edge of a cliff that gives into a gravel road below and blue tea hills beyond. A mist is gathering far away, and slowly cold creeps inside the shop. When we finish our tea and go outside, the air has turned moist and visibility is vague. Just half an hour earlier I had taken off my jacket to balance a strong sun.

Mostly during winters, an unpredictable mist covers most of Ilam’s hills. If the sun shows, it is only temporary, and difficult to guess. Rain is intermittent, and burst with little warning as already wet forests are drenched to their bones. Run offs and streams are almost peripheral, and the moistness they lend to the forest floors is sucked in by random cardamoms. If someone calls it melancholic, it will be difficult to totally disagree.

“I don’t think the connection has any truth to it, I don’t think whoever researched it was familiar with the climate and, probably found it personally depressing. I like it”, my cousin responds when I bring the topic up. I find some relief in this company. I like it as well. I have been cautious of confessing to this. I know my touristic experience is temporary and hence my conclusions, probably myopic (and heavily romanticized). But he grew up here. With some confidence, I agree.

Personally I find beauty in Ilam’s weather. Life in winters can sometimes be dictated by what the day brings.

“What do you want to do, should we go?” H. asks Bhanij. They take whatever work comes up in the village and sometimes run a busy schedule. Mostly the work is related to tea. Cutting tea, balancing its layers, picking up leaves takes up a good deal of time and depends on seasons. On this cold winter morning, however, H. is not feeling up to it. Bhanij stalls in some thought but eventually agrees. The work is postponed. Instead, a steaming kettle of tea is poured into steel glasses and they both take tentative slurps before looking up at the mist again. When night comes, the fire is constant and everybody gathers around it, and if the space is short, start their own. Feet hang up into the air over the agenas and the warmth is most satisfying. So is the sleep that follows.

Chiya-Pasaley loves tea and writes about conversations that originate along the hours spent on drinking many cups of it. Besides that he is curious about many things and especially the rural-urban divide, and the coming of modernization to Nepal. He writes on the mundane and the very fantastic, and everything in between.

http://www.parakhi.com/news/2012/01/08/squatters-announce-nationwide-strike-on-january-17

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