DISCOVERING YUKSOM

ARRIVING AT BAGDOGRA airport in the afternoon, I'm greeted by hot and humid air.

- ANAND NEELAKANTAN

"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 eighthour 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 snowclad 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.