It all happened in this summer. As I was just back to my hostel room after a joyous and yet tedious convocation, Kadu-da and Deproop approached me and asked,"Hey, want to go to on a trek?" Being totally ignorant about trekking, I took some time before agreeing. But I did agree. And that was a happy decision as you might see for yourself as you read through what follows. It was a really REALLY nice trip, and here I shall narrate my experiences. There were 7 in our team --- Kadu, Nandi, Debrup, Manas-da, Mahata, Ruma-di and myself. The first five are from ISI.Ruma-di was a batchmate of Bonnie-di. Kadu, Nandi and Debroop were experienced while the other four were callow. The trek --- a 90-km walk along the hills --- started from Maneybhanjan, a village in Darjeeling. The first day we climbed upto Gairibas, a place in the heart of the Singalila reserved forest. Then we treked the most difficult part of our journey to Sandakphu, the highest peak in West Bengal (3636 mt). We came down to Phalut (3600 mt) on the following day. The penultimate day found us going down a steep descent along a hillside. It was a tough 28-km trek on that day. After a night's halt at Sirikhola we walked a few km's to Rimbik, the end point of our trek. Here we boarded a jeep bound for Darjeeling, and after a sumptuous dinner there went to Siliguri to catch our train to Calcutta. Now for the details… Our bus from Calcutta bound for Siliguri broke down near Baharampur at 12:30 am. Firstly a tyre expired. Then some iron support followed suit. Finally when the air tank began to show problem too, the mechanics told us (at 6:00 am) that the bus simply cannot be moved. Now, the girl in our party had boarded a different bus. Fortunately or unfortunately that bus arrived at Siliguri in time. She was given two very heavy sacks. Quite naturally she was getting extremely nervous when she saw that our bus did not arrive in time. She could hardly move around with those two heavy sacks. It was a really thrilling to see Nandi managing the situation dexterously by phoning Bonnie-di's house in Siliguri for help. We boarded another bus --- a very old one --- that we stopped midway. It was crowded, but with 3 heavy sacks we managed to fight the other passengers pretty well. We could hope to arrive at Siliguri only around 6:00pm (in place of 8:00 am) and that meant that the Phalut trip was to be cancelled. Then at Raigunje a new driver came. He was half-asleep, held the steering with only one hand while making Khaini with the other. At times he let go the steering completely. He seemed determined to go either 3 hrs before time or to heaven. He drove at a breakneck speed, overtook all the lorries and trucks in the most precarious way, and we finally arrived (alive) at Siliguri at 4:00 p.m. We lost no time in boarding a jeep for Maneybhanjan, where we arrived around 7:00 p.m. The next day we had to start our trek. We had planned to take some rest at Maneybhanjan before the start. But to keep Phalut in our list we sacrificed our rest. A hurried dinner was the only luxury that we allowed ourselves before we went to sleep that night. What happened next? To know that read on. But before going on, let me stop for a moment to answer a question raised by the ever critical Krishanu. "What were in the sacks to make them so heavy? Something smuggled?" he had asked. So here is the answer. Each sack contained: at least 3 woolens, a water bottle, a week's ration, a pair of shoes, knee caps, medicines, a big polythene sheet, and lots of dress materials. On that day all the food (for a whole week) possibly were in one of those two sacks. Yes, you may very well call our trekking, smuggling. Because quite a few times we walked along the border of Nepal and India (no No Man's Land!), and once we stood with one leg in India and one leg in Nepal.Now for the next part of the episode. Maneybhanjan is, as I have already told you, a village bordering on the hilly region. The trekkers’ hut--- a wooden one-and-a-half storey house--- was furnished with a number of cozy beds, and a few electric bulbs, possibly operated by some solar cell. The light was so dim that it only helped to make the environment eerie. We planned to get up next morning at 4:45 am. We had an alarm clock, which we put on a table, and then ... sleep ... sweet sleep. But all of us were tense. I kept on watching my wrist watch every hour. Mahata shouted quite frequently in his sleep. In the morning everything went on quite smoothly. If you are ever on ahyke you will know that a `smooth start' means two things: clean bowels and a well-packed sack. All but Nandi had the former. I did not know how to pack a sack. So many straps and buckles! When finally Debroop and Kadu-da managed to strap me to the sack (rather than the sack to me) I felt a tinge of apprehension that the load might prove too heavy as I ascend up the hill--- an apprehension which proved totally groundless later. Our breakfast (like all our breakfast-s during that week) consisted of boiled Maggy. Before you start smacking your lips let me request you to put some Maggy in a bowl, and eat it simply after boiling (Mind you, no spice other than salt). We ate (or rather, gulped down) that yellowish pulp considering it as a part of the adventure. And then we asked the caretaker to show us the way upwards. His response was truly remarkable! He took us to the terrace of his one-and-a-half storeyed hut, and pointed at a VERY NARROW trail that started right from the terrace! We crossed what might be called a parapet and ... the trek began. Kadu-da and Debroop had warned us that every first-time trekker finds the first half an hour of the trek very tiring. So I was very tensed at the beginning. But it was so nice all around. The path was very steep, and winding through dense shrubbery. An hour's walk brought us to a less steep region. Still a thick fog was hanging around us. I had picked up a long piece of bamboo stick from the trail-side. Manas-da was supporting himself on it as he guided his heavy footfalls uphill. Soon we came to a tea-stall. This was a characteristic of the hills here. Long stretches of forlorn hill regions are punctuated only by occasional tea shops with some hen and yaks roaming around.The shopkeepers are always very cordial, and seem overwhelmed to find at least one human face in the rarely populated area. Coffee usually costs a lot. (At one place it was Rs 10/- per cup). So we took tea, black tea to be precise, since Debroop had warned us against the smellyyak-milk, which substituted cow milk here.We were making around 2km per hour. A pretty good speed according toDebrup. But we could not afford to relax our pace, since it was verydifficult to walk here after 4:00 pm. The fog will soak you inside yourdress.One problem with written language is that it makes the reader know how thewriter feels, but not WHAT the writer feels. So I cannot make youunderstand the big undulating planes crumpling itself up into jaggedmountains, the dense fog that engulfed us in a packet of white darkness, the sweet tingle of the bells tied to the necks of the yaks. Nor can I make you feel the keen wind cutting on your face, and the heat that we felt inside our multiple folds of dresses. Then came lunch. It was at a small village. We took `chhaatu’, with no other ingredients except salt, onion and chilly. We had some pickle also. I am used to `chhaatu' very much. But even I can tell you that it did not taste too good. When we got up after an hour's rest all our limbs had frozen. As the sun (hardly perceptible due to the dense fog) tilted towards the west we headed for Gairibas. The trail now lay down the narrow gorge produced by some river of the past. Big stones and sharp turns are always dangerous. They are more so when you cannot see beyond 2 metres in any direction. Soon we got separated. Manas-da and myself formed the foremost group. The path branched so frequently that we had no way of knowing whether we were moving in the right direction. It was then that a big black dog joined us. I do not know from where it came. But it adhered to us most faithfully. It almost led the way. Whenever we could not keep up to its pace it would stop and wait for us. We followed it down some shortcuts which we would have otherwise overlooked. Finally when we (Manas-da and I) arrived at Gairibas trekkers hut we had no way of knowing where the others were. But soon they also came. And ... read on. So here we are back to Gairibas---the trekkers hut right in the midst of Singlila reserve forest. When we arrived there in the evening after an arduous trek of the first day, the place was completely muffled up with dense fog. It was a sort of narrow valley situated at an altitude between two mountain ridges. Thick fog (or more precisely cloud) rolled slowly in the entire valley. A narrow path winded downwards. It was a ‘jeepable’ road. But through the fog it just seemed to be a deep abyss. The first day's trek is always more tiring than the other days' treks. It is only after lying limply on the bed for some time that you feel like moving out again. Also all our undergarments were inwardly soaked with perspiration. This is a queer experience to have cold wind blow on you face while you are drenched with sweat from inside. Those of you who climbed to Talokha will remember a similar feeling. Only this time it is a longer route, and a heavy sack is sitting on our back, and thick fog is choking us from all sides... It is always a boring job to change the dress in the dim light of a solar cell. You feel like lying down, and the team leader (Kadu this time) shouting at us to change dress as quickly as possible. After the dress change was over we went out for a stroll. `We' means Manas-da and myself, and that too separately. The others were too tired to enjoy the outside. I walked on I did not know where. I could see only about three metres around me in the fog. There was a rivulet, which I crossed by a ramshackle wooden bridge. The narrow path abutted one of the mountains that walled the valley. I could discern a sort of small violet flowers growing on the mountain sides. They reminded me of the verse : Pracheerer chhidre ak naamgotraheen... I was completely cut off from all sounds from the trekkers' hut. An eerie feeling crept inside me. I knew that I was inside a reserve forest. True that it contained nothing much more than red panda and munir (according to a signboard put up there), but still that white darkness engulfing me seemed to teem with all sorts of unknown dangers. No, I was not afraid, but I was thrilled. Just then a strange rumbling noise rose from the deep abyss beside me. I stood still with half a mind to run back. Then it ceased. But before I had proceeded a few steps the sound resumed...a queer sound between rumbling and moaning. I DID feel a little nervous. I am not ashamed of it. You would also have felt the same had you been in my position---engulfed in a white darkness with a mysterious sound approaching you from some unknown quarter. But before I could start running, the source of the sound loomed before me through the fog. The massive body, the not too slow speed were all very known to me. I had only enough time to jump to the side of the narrow path before the jeep passed by me. I had a hearty laugh to myself to think that it was only a jeep coming down a coming down a ‘jeepable’ road (which I had taken for a deep abyss) which had caused me so much consternation. Back in the trekkers' hut we had a snug repast with `chire bhaja' and tea. And then a nice `adda' with lots of recitation from Sukumar Ray, intervened only by a frugal dinner, marked the end of that day. We woke up by 5:00 am the next day. According to our experienced team members today's trek was to be the toughest. We have to trek right upto the very peak of Sandakphu. The path was rendered still more tough by a few km's steep uphill at the fag end. But the morning found us unusually cheerful. The main reason was that THE FOG HAD COMPLETELY VANISHED!