Majuli

After boarding a bus from Kaziranga to Jorhat we arrive at the ferry port to take us to Majuli, once the worlds biggest river island. We get dropped off at la Maison de Ananda, bamboo bungalows surrounded by rice fields. We soak up the convivial feel to the island and settle in straight away. Our host Monjit was attentive, informative and generally a great guy.
We arrived just before sunset so we made our way to the river to watch the sky transform into night. That evening we indulged in a little origami. Concluding, we should probably leave it to the Japanese.

Our morning started with a session of laundry, the old fashioned way. We decided then, to take the homemade tandem bike out for a spin around the rice fields of the island. This homemade bike was not only a pain in the arse to ride, but seemed to be an alien species to the locals and attracted a lot of attention. One guy almost run us off the road forcing us to swerve a jeep, with his nonchalant attitude somewhat infuriating. With another 3km to go we get/ un gracefully fall off the bike and start walking, the novelty of riding a tandem rapidly wore off.

On our walk we are whisked off in to a house, where the women of the house supply us with tea and snacks before playing dress up, me and Charlie as their models. Putting our hair up and slapping a bit of make-up on us. We looked ridiculous. But the English in us had to praise them for their styling and thank them for their hospitality. As soon as we are out of sight though we ruffle our hair and smear off our eye liner.
Back to normal, We reach the mask making Satra. An ancient tradition of mask sculpting that has received prestigious awards from all over. (Apparently our very own BBC were there filming the production of one of the masks). The guru sat regally, dressed in white, answering questions while his apprentice showcased his masterpieces.

On the walk back to the tandem we realise it's getting dark and decide to catch a ride back to the village, the bike wedged in the back of the pick up. For dinner we had the ubiquitous sabji, rice and chapati. We ate little else for the next 3 days.
The next day we chilled at the bungalows hanging out with Paul, our German neighbour. Leaving the comforts of our porch and blankets only for food and feeding our insatiable appetite for Indian sweets.

The following day we hire a scooty and a manual bike. Charlie and I both have a go on the manual, the wind in our greasy hair, feeling like something out of hells angels. There were no lessons here, we were all autodidact and free to ride. We felt Paul, being a man, should ride the motorbike. It wouldn't do much for his street credibility if he was seen riding a purple scooty. We ride through villages, pass through rice fields coloured 50 shades of green, cruise under towering bamboo trees and stop at a Satra for a little enlightenment.
That night we listened to tails from two veteran travellers, Richard and Morino over some local rice beer, which was a little hard to stomach. Tails of revolutions, love, near death experiences and corruption. Charlie adding her nihilistic views of 'the worlds f***ed, and their all b******s'.

After much deliberation (we changed our minds about 100 times) over a cup of coffee in the morning, we decide to head to Darjeeling. So Charlie, Paul and I hop on the ferry to Jorhat. From there we will attempt to get an overnight, un booked train to Guwahati (again).
We begin our 34 hour gruelling journey to Darjeeling. A train from Jorhat to Guwahati. Our first experience in 2nd class. We cram into the carriage like sardines, Charlie weaving the traffic of people to grab us a half decent seat on the floor. It wasn't long before we were offered seats on one of the benches though. We struggled to sleep, the upright position is not our usual sleeping stance, legs intwined with other passengers, using shoulders, arms and heads as pillows. We did however, manage to escape the hollering from the vendors as they seldom ventured into this frivolous carriage. The train from Guwahati to Siliguri was enjoyed in a little more comfort, sleeper class, so we catch a few z's. Dreams of chai,straighteners and plastic ear pick's equip with a light are lucid in our minds. We missed our first train by seconds, probably the only two foreigners in history to complain about a punctual train service in India. When we arrive at Siliguri we take a jeep to the world famous Darjeeling.