This book is my sacred text, says Jyotishko Biswas, holding up a much-thumbed copy of Chander Pahar.
Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay’s 1937 novel chronicling an intrepid youth’s expedition to the Mountains of the Moon in Africa circa 1909-10 has fired the imagination of generations, but possibly none more so than this youth from Karimpur in West Bengal’s Nadia district who turned down a job in a jute mill, refusing to be tethered to a workaday life.
Uganda’s Rwenzori Mountains were referred to as the Mountains of the Moon by the ancient astronomer and geographer Ptolemy. Bibhutibhushan has mentioned in his book two mountain ranges — Richtersveld and Rwenzori. The man, who never travelled beyond India, writes in the foreword how he worked out the geographical details of his novel with the help of 19th-century travel writers such as H.H. Johnston.
Says Jyotishko, “He has never clearly stated where chander pahar is. But if one takes the description of the flora and fauna, it matches with Rwenzori.”
In any case, like his fictional idol Shankar, Jyotishko chose adventure as his profession. He started a trekking agency, prepared for years, and four months ago, set off for the African wilderness alone in search of the fabled mountains.
There is no knowing how many times Jyotishko has read the slip of a book since that first time in Class VI, given how easily he can find specific passages while speaking of his adventure that lasted 45 days, in the course of which he cycled 1,500 to 2,000 kilometres, tracing places mentioned by Bibhutibhushan.
Jyotishko grew up in a village in Arunachal Pradesh on the confluence of the Lohit and the Brahmaputra. His father, a schoolteacher, was eventually posted in north Bengal, some place on the banks of the Jaldhaka. When Jyotishko was 15, the family moved to Karimpur. Something of the restless waters must have infused his spirit. At 21, Jyotishko cycled across Meghalaya and thereafter undertook a trans-Himalayan trip that lasted half a year.
In the meantime, he had started earning by collecting plastic litter in Meghalaya. He says, “During one such trip, I came across a group of foreigners who wanted to go on a trek across the root bridges.” Root bridges are living bridges formed by the roots of trees. At the end of the trip, when Jyotishko and his Khasi friend were paid handsomely by the trekkers, they realised they had found themselves a livelihood and money to quench their wanderlust.
The end of the Covid-19 lockdown marked the birth of The Trekking Buddha, a company meant to groom trekkers.
Says Jyotishko, “I had started planning for Africa the year before. Now I drew up the list: a gravel cycle (for on and off-road), backpack, repair kit, cooking set, sleeping set, winter set, summer set, cycling jersey, gloves, helmet, separate sewing kits for shoes, tyres and clothes, medicines, sunglass, wind and rain-proof jacket, hiking and cycling boots, slippers, hydration gel, water jar, dry food… I carried just one yellow shirt for two months.”
By way of a dry run, he went cycling from Digha to the Mt Everest base camp. Another spur-of-the-moment trek took him to Mt Annapurna base camp in June. He says, “I bought my Africa flight ticket there. Within three days of reaching home, I was off to chander pahar.”
Jyotishko’s goal was to see Rwenzori, and if possible, scale Margherita Peak, the highest point of the Mountain of the Moon range.
Shankar’s trip, Jyotishko had realised long back, was not along a linear route. He says, “Bibhutibabu took Mombasa as the entry point but the subsequent references to places are geographically so scattered and convoluted that following them is next to impossible.”
Jyotishko confined his trip to the east African countries, leaving out Richtersveld and the Kalahari Desert, in the south. He started from Mombasa, a coastal city in Kenya where Shankar’s ship had docked.
Jyotishko talks about the difference between “Internet Africa” and the real Africa. He says, “For tourists, Africa means Masai Mara or at best Serengeti. But there is an Africa beyond that which lacks basic infrastructure to host outsiders.”
He talks about the lack of water sources for long distances in Tanzania which forced him to carry water. That made cycling tough. He says, “I suffered frequent food poisoning. But adventurers should not complain about conditions. In fact, there is a saying among explorers that one should not visit Africa unless one is ready to be served by hands not washed for 170 years and knives not cleaned for 375 years. Still, it got challenging as I could not get myself to eat the semi-roasted beef that is the staple diet of the Masais.”
Shankar had survived on bread and coffee; Jyotishko did so on rolex, an African version of egg roll served on the table, minus plates.
Jyotishko found his Alvarez in his guide Benard, a member of the Bakonzo tribe inhabiting the Rwenzori foothills. “He had such an easy familiarity with the trees and birds!” he recalls. It was in his company that he scaled Margherita Peak on July 23.
While Jyotishko may not have had to face lions or black mamba like Shankar, his big challenge was a cycle breakdown on the way to the volcano. He was rescued miraculously much like Shankar was in the Kalahari. And there is no end to the stories, mountains of them…
Just as well that Jyotishko has decided to publish his account.