March has been hectic. Especially the last week of March when I had to go to work on weekend and persuade the treasury in a manner that might have bordered on flirtation. I never realized that I was an obsessive workaholic. Now when I think of it I had been a fanatical student as well. Only for past couple of years I had given up on everything. I had stopped loving life altogether. I hope I shall never have to go back to such horrendous phase ever again. Touchwood.

April has started on a positive note. A day trip to Lamahatta had been on the cards for long but it was getting postponed owing to a mismatch of schedules. Finally it happened on the April fool’s day. And it turned out to be such a good day that I couldn’t help but wonder if the universe was playing prank to me. But thank god nobody said ‘I love you’ to me. I would have jumped off the hills straightaway.

Nothing much to say about Lamahatta though. It’s just a small hamlet between Kalimpong and Darjeeling. The place didn’t yet lose its virginity so mercilessly like Darjeeling so it’s still picturesque and serene. I usually turn into a meditative dog during journey so while Mr. L and Mr. S were having some boring discussion about their business in Nepali I was busy devouring the glimpse of tea gardens outside.

We went for a small hike through the pine forest which took about two hours. The path wound up through the woods and eventually gave in to a meadow at the top. I don’t know if it was due to this Mercury retrograde season but I was having a serious bout of déjà vu. Not very long back I had been to a very similar pine forest with someone. There was a lump in my throat while I was posing for snaps with thirty two all out. Melancholy is so terribly addictive. It suits me.

On our way back we bumped into a group of girls who were extremely garrulous and upfront. They started chatting with me and mentioned at least five times that I was really cute. Now I’m a cynical jackass who takes everything with a pinch of salt. I smiled and nodded along while the voice in my head kept reminding me of the date.

It is the peak season in Darjeeling and Bengalis are to be seen everywhere, like mosquitoes. Lamahatta too was full of them but fortunately none of those ill-clad, noisy people was very keen to venture all the way to the hilltop so our hiking was peaceful and I did not have to lose my temper even for once.

Lunch was amazing. Nowadays I feel very happy when I get to eat without having to worry about cooking. And discussing world politics with two elderly people over chilled beer turned out to be the perfect way to end the trip. I realized more than anything I just missed having someone whom I could have hours of discussion with. The world is full of stupid, boring people.

On the way back we stopped at the confluence of the Teesta and the Rangeet and had Nepali version of panipuris. They were not good. The water was stale and the filling was not hot enough. However the lady was so nice that I gave her vigorous affirmative nod of appreciation upon asking. The Rangeet is a tributary of the Teesta and the main river of Sikkim. The place is called Lovers' meet point. So basically Rangeet and Teesta are lovers. I stood there looking at the two streams intertwining each other. I was not there when they had first met. Someday I would be gone along with all my stories. They will still be there. Two lovers, two souls, becoming one together.