The election fever that has gripped Bengal has not yet reached Dhodrey (Dhotrey in Bengali), the state’s highest polling booth nestled at 8,400 feet above sea level, even though the LPG crunch sparked by US President Donald Trump’s war on Iran has.
The village, which gets its name from dhodor (tree trunks used by early travellers as shelters for the night), is essentially a halt for trekkers coming down from Sandakphu or Phalut, both mountain tops from where the Kanchenjunga feels like within hugging distance.
There are no campaign posters, slogans, or rallies in Dhotrey. Instead, there is a calm like no other, with signs pointing out that you are in a red panda sanctuary.
I have been to Tumling, on the road to Sandakphu on the India-Nepal border in the Singalila National Park, four times, the first being in 2016 just after school finals. Every time, the village at 9,600 feet amazes the explorer within. But all trekkers know Tumling is the beginning of a journey, either up or down.
This time, my journey was downwards, through the national park’s forested trails with rhododendron and magnolia trees, into the small village of Dhotrey.
On the way, as usual, our five-person team picked up all the plastic wrappers in a bag to clear out the trail as much as possible.
Trekking some 8km down from Tumling with a rucksack and an old-man’s umbrella, it takes three hours to get to Dhotrey. Our guide, Nima Sherpa, is a local footballer and the owner of a homestay.
Pine forests all around and the Kanchenjungha range greeting at random turns, the village welcomes trekkers with an open field, and a primary school with wooden windows and a tin roof, with rosy-cheeked kids studying loudly.
There’s a graveyard some 100 yards north of the school. The sun never shines on this area, because of the thick foliage of pine overhead. There’s a shabby white mountain dog as a guide, and some shoes left behind on some graves.
Waking up at sunrise at 5.30am is an ordeal for a Kolkata person, but here in the mountains the lights go out at 9pm. So waking up at the crack of dawn is a piece of cake. After washing your face with what feels like ice particles, the sunrise feels ephemeral.
Suraj Sherpa, a veteran of the Gurkha Regiment of the Indian Army, is a homestay owner. Retired some four years ago, he is a strong-jawed, introspective man who delivers punch lines like: “Tum ghumo pahar mein, naukri jaye bhar mein [You just roam the mountains, your job can go to hell]”
“We don’t really care for elections. Maybe we’ll cast our votes for the ruling party; maybe we won’t. Either way, we’ll see,” says Sherpa.
Just outside the village is a government centre that grows medicinal plants. Barbed wires segregate the forest from the village, with muddy roads leading to the top.
Hikers are welcomed to explore the trail to the mountain top at Dhotrey. Like every trail, this one had a guide dog as well. But this time it was a German shepherd named Julie. She guided us through, stony roads, waiting and looking back. She drank water from my hands, and got a whole packet of Parle-G as a treat on getting down the long and winding road.
There is a Shiv temple and a monastery side by side. None of the buildings is locked. Anyone can go inside, ring the bells, awaken the village, and turn the praying wheels for a quick religious experience.
As mentioned, the LPG crunch has reached Dhotrey. The wait time is 45 days, 10 more than Kolkata. But it has not slowed down the chefs here.
The average wait time for a steaming bowl of thukpa or septa (chilli chicken for the plains) is 10 minutes. The owner of Gopal Homestay at Dhotrey taxi stand, one of the oldest homestays here, is Dixchen Thapa.
She has shifted to wood ovens.
“There is firewood available here, and coal. I never stopped cooking with these. It is a problem with cylinders, but I can manage just fine,” said Thapa.
Also, totally unlike the rest of Bengal, political gossip finds few takers. Instead, a local football match becomes a spectacle.
There isn’t a single poster of any candidate for the Assembly election. Bimal Gurung is contesting for the BJP and Anit Thapa from the TMC. But, you would not know unless you ask specifically.
Intertwined with the identity politics of Gorkhaland and various local parties formed by the natives of the mountains, elections in the hills have always been complicated.
Though Mamata Banerjee’s alliance with Thapa (chief executive of the Gorkhaland Territorial Administration) helps her govern the villages like Dhotrey better, there is a clear disconnect between the political crescendo building in the rest of Bengal and the undisturbed idyll of the mountains.
Roads are not being made at break-neck speed, potholes are not being covered, no microphones blaring propaganda.
It seems that the election, like all of us who walked down from Tumling, has stopped to take a breath here. And to watch the Kanchenjunga at the smack dab centre of the horizon.