Discovering Yuksom, Where Nature Meets Spirituality

Drriving at Bagdogra airport in the afternoon, I'm greeted by hot and humid air. "Dad, it is hot," my son complains, and before I can give an excuse, his eyes are glued to his phone. My wife's idea of convincing me to take him along on this trip to the Sikkim Literature Festival seems like a daunting task now. How do I keep a restless teenager engaged in this land's rich history and heritage?

I Googled the route map and groaned as we went to the taxi stand. It is nearly an eight-hour journey. I don't want to break the news to the grumpy teenager. Bagdogra is like most Indian towns, but the terrain changes as we leave its borders. The national park en route is lush and verdant, promising encounters with elephants and leopards. I suggest stopping, but Abhinav is not interested.

Slowly, the terrain starts changing. The familiar tropical trees give way to pines as the car climbs higher. Suddenly, my gaze shifts to a river flowing parallel to the road, its waters a striking cobalt blue. I nudge Abhinav, who is now engrossed in taking in the sights, his phone momentarily forgotten.

We watch in awe as the river meanders through the landscape, its colour contrasting with the verdant hills. The rivers my son has seen are either the polluted Yamuna or the placid green rivers of Kerala. This one is another beast. It surges in rapids and has a surreal colour.

As we reach Peiling, we can see the snow-clad peaks. We stop for the mandatory chai and Maggi—a staple of travel in the Himalayas—before we continue our journey. A few kilometres later, the majestic Kanchenjunga Waterfall comes into view. Abhinav gasps, his phone now abandoned in his lap. The waterfall cascades down from a great height, its roar echoing through the valley. We stop for a while.

As we continue our journey to Yuksom, I feel a sense of calm wash over me. The beauty of this land is undeniable, and I can't help but feel grateful for this opportunity to share it with my son. Perhaps this trip will be more than just a literature festival; it will allow us to connect and appreciate this land's rich culture.

As we pull up to the Yuskom Residency, the chill in the air is palpable, and I can see my breath fogging up. The hotel is a quaint, two-storey building with clean lines and a welcoming facade. I can see the outline of the mighty mountain in the distance, its snow-capped peak glowing in the moonlight. The reception area is small but cosy, with a crackling fireplace and plush armchairs. The staff greets us warmly, and we're shown to our rooms, which are simple but clean and have large windows.

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The next morning, I wake up early, eager to explore the town. I can hear birds chirping outside my window, and I take a deep breath of the crisp mountain air. I'm excited to see what Yuksom has to offer.

As I step outside, I'm greeted by the sight of colourful prayer flags fluttering in the wind. The town is small, with narrow streets. Some sort of modernity is creeping in, with more concrete houses than traditional wooden ones. This is a base station for the Kanchenjunga trek, and many shops supply mountain gear. But my idea of a vacation is not about conquering any peak. It is rather about allowing myself to be conquered by the history and culture of a place.

I make my way to Norbugang Park, where the first Chogyal of Sikkim was crowned in 1641. In the centre of the park is the stone throne, known as Norbugang Chorten. I can't help but feel a sense of awe as I approach it.

I can almost imagine the three lamas converging from different directions, carrying the sacred texts and relics that would form the foundation of Sikkim's Buddhist culture. I can see the first Chogyal, Phuntsog Namgyal, being crowned on this very spot, marking the beginning of a new era for the region.

Walking around the park, I'm struck by the sense of history permeating the air. I can feel the weight of the centuries since that fateful day in 1641. It's a humbling experience, and I'm grateful to have had the opportunity to witness it firsthand. These are the events rarely taught in schools or colleges across India. Our history is still very Delhi-centric, with passing mentions of a few South Indian kingdoms and the Maratha empire. Standing here is learning history afresh.

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The next morning, we decided to make our way to Dubdi Monastery, also known as the Yuksom Monastery. Perched atop a hill, the monastery was founded in 1701 by Chogyal Namgyal, the first monarch of Sikkim, it is one of the oldest in the region.

As we begin our ascent up the hill, we are greeted by the cacophony of bird calls. It is a time to be carefree, and I imitate the bird calls. The teenager is embarrassed at first. But soon, he joins in. The birds are confused. Maybe our bird calls have a thick Malayali accent. Finally, we reach the top, and I am struck by the sight of the monastery. The red and gold buildings stand out against the lush greenery of the hillside, and the sound of prayer flags flapping in the wind adds to the spiritual atmosphere. As we enter the monastery, only one monk is sitting silently. He smiles at us, but is silent. He is not even curious about us. We sit beside him, and time passes slowly. Why should I ever return to the urban madness of Mumbai?

Another sight that stays in my mind is the statue of Thangtong Gyalpo, a great Buddhist adept and engineer who lived between the 14th and 15th centuries.

Thangtong Gyalpo is depicted with a serene expression, holding a chain in one hand and a trident in the other. He is also known as the "Iron Bridge Maker" and the "King of the Empty Plain," a testament to his incredible feats of engineering. He was also a physician, blacksmith, yogi, and a true Renaissance man. In a country teeming with magnificent temples and forts, this statue stands out not because of its artistic merit but because of what it stands for. It is rare tribute for an architect and sculptor to be honoured like this in our country.

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As the literature festival comes to a close, it's time for us to bid farewell to Sikkim. Our hearts are heavy with the memories and beauty of this place, and we make a final stop in Pelling to soak in the majestic mountain ranges one last time.

The snow-capped peaks glisten in the sunlight, forever imprinted on our minds. With one more cup of chai, we say goodbye to this breathtaking part of our country, grateful for the experience and longing to return someday. Taking my son along was not a bad idea at all.

Anand Neelakantan is a bestselling author of 17 books, doubling as a columnist, screenwriter, and public speaker