Through the Clouds to North East: Virendra’s Journey with Thrillophilia
There is something about friendships that begin over travel and do not fade in time but deepen. For over two decades, my friend and I have shared countless sunrises on highways, road trip playlists, and roadside tea in places most people could not locate on a map.
Our wives had joined us on many escapades - Goa during monsoons, Rajasthan in winter, and the coastal charm of Karnataka. But, this time, we wanted something different - a journey into somewhere less explored by tourists.
“Arunachal Pradesh,” my wife suggested during one of our weekend dinners. “It is wild, raw, and untouched. Let’s go there!”
And just like that, four of us decided to explore one of the lesser-travelled gems of India. We headed for a new adventure to add to the album of our lives.
The Beginning of the Curve
In October 2022, we landed in Guwahati with both excitement and nervousness. We were not in those days when we were spontaneous backpackers, but we were still curious and high-spirited.
Our diver, Mr. Sujeet Mandal, welcomed us at the Guwahati Airport like an old friend. He was calm, polite, and had a good knowledge of every winding road ahead.
The drive to Bhalukpong was our first taste of the hills in Arunachal. Soon, we were offered a simple and comfortable welcome at Hotel Waii International. After the city noise of Mumbai, the silence of Bhalukpong felt refreshing. That night, wrapped in shawls and sipping tea, we caught up on stories, relived old trips, and laughed at jokes that never get old.
Through Valleys and Stories
Dirang was our next destination. As we climbed higher, the scenery transformed into luscious green slopes, monasteries peeking from mountain ridges, and the fresh air that carried the scent of pine and prayer.
We stopped at Thupsung Dhargyeling Monastery and explored and meditated in the attraction for a while. At Sangti Valley, we spotted delicate, graceful, and strangely comforting black-necked cranes.
Our stay at Awoo Resort was a mix of gorgeous settings, but the hospitality left much to be desired. Still, the warmth of old friendships made up for any lapse in service. We played cards that night in a wooden room that echoed with laughter.
“You remember that highway dhaba in Mangalore?” my friend giggled.
“Where we ate seven types of dosa?” my wife added.
Some memories are travel markers; they come alive with every new journey.
In the Lap of Tawang
The journey to Tawang was surreal. Here, Hotel LN Stay welcomed us with warmth and comfort. We stayed there for three nights, and every moment felt like coming home. The staff was kind, the food was delicious, and the view from our room was unforgettable.
After a delicious breakfast, we went for the local sightseeing at Tawang.
Sela Pass stood like a gatekeeper at 14,000 feet, covered in mist and mystery. We stood in the snow and let the chill winds touch our faces, and silence said what words could not.
At the Jaswant Singh War Memorial, I felt a lump in my throat. The tale of one soldier’s stand against an invading army, his bravery and his legacy made us all pause. My friend did not speak for a while afterwards.
Later, we visited Tawang Monastery, which is the biggest Buddhist monastery in India. As we walked through the vast compound while listening to chants echoing through ancient halls, I found myself slowing down. Not just my steps, but my thoughts.
“Why do these places feel so grounding?” my friend’s wife whispered.
“Maybe because they remind us how small we are,” my wife replied.
That night, instead of exploring the markets, we sat in the hotel’s courtyard, sipped butter tea, and watched the clouds roll by like slow-moving dreams.
Edges of the Map
The excursion to Bum La Pass was optional, but for us, it was essential. At 5,000 metres, standing at the Indo-China border, we felt the raw pulse of geography and geopolitics. It was cold, yes, but also humbling.
We saw the route the Dalai Lama once took to enter India. We stood there silently and absorbed the history that hung in the stones and air.
Later, at Madhuri Lake (Shonga-tser Lake), time seemed to stop. The water, still and sapphire blue, reflected the sky in a way that made you question where one ended and the other began.
Taktsang Gompa was the final spiritual stop for the day. Situated on a cliff, it felt like a scene from a forgotten era.
The Long Drive Down
From Tawang, we made our way down to Bomdila. The roads were winding, but Sujeet navigated every curve with grace. By now, we had our rhythms - who sat where, who played what music, and who dozed off first.
Hotel Tsepal Yangjom in Bomdila was a calm retreat. That night, we shared a quiet meal and watched old photos on our phones - trip after trip, year after year.
“I am glad we have never stopped doing this,” my friend’s wife said.
“Neither age nor kids nor work has come between our plans,” my friend added, raising his glass.
Friendship, we realised, is not just about staying in touch. It is about staying in step.
Return Until the Next Curve
Our journey back to Guwahati was long but filled with anticipation. We checked into Hotel Park Riviera, and though we were back in a city, the mountains still stayed in our minds.
The next morning, before our flight, we managed a quick visit to Kamakhya Temple. A short stop, yet it felt like the perfect ending. A blessing to carry with us.
At the airport, we hugged Sujeet goodbye. He had become a part of our story.
And as the flight took off, I looked at my friends, laughing, arguing over snack options, and sharing earbuds. I realised this was the best part of travel: the people you share it with.
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