There is rain and then there is rain — the kind that never stops, remains suspended as mist, gets in shoes and caps and drenches the soul, but lifts the spirits.

Neither the Internet nor the books or concerned relatives prepare you for the wettest place on the earth, Cherrapunjee.

When our party of four landed in Shillong we were blessed with sunshine for two days and after long (sweaty) treks and sunny photo opportunities, foolishness struck and some of us forgot to pack our wind-cheaters on the day we were headed to Cherrapunjee, 56km from Shillong. A chilling mistake!

There are several government buses that leave daily for Cherrapunjee or Sohra early in the morning from Police Bazaar and cover quite a few scenic spots and waterfalls on the way.

If one wishes to give that a miss, then there are scores of taxis from the Police Bazaar stand that take you there for Rs 1,200 and less. They, too, throw in a few “tourist spots” during the drive. It is best to visit the Meghalaya Tourism Development Corporation office at Police Bazaar and do some homework before heading off.

We had Nohkalikai and Nohsngithiang (or the Mawsmai) falls and the limestone caves around Cherrapunjee in mind when we began early in the morning.

The rain began half-an-hour into the drive, as the taxi climbed up hills covered in lush, dark green woodlands before we could discover why Shillong is referred to as the Scotland of the East, despite its tropical tree-covered hills.

The incessant drizzle soon became a downpour and enveloped the taxi in a hazy greyness that followed for a good hour into the journey. So much so, that a break of steaming Maggie, hard-boiled eggs and tea at a roadside kiosk near a waterfall was a relief.

During the journey, when the rain and mist clears up, the gradual change of landscape from lush woodlands to rolling grasslands, parrot green in their freshness, is breathtaking. The hillside is dotted with graveyards and little churches and the sight of a distant crucifix through the mist and rain is eerie.

Lady Luck took a tea break when we were at Nohkalikai, so we ended up just hearing the waterfall through the rain. Try walking beyond the small market and head towards the nearby viewpoint. Arguments regarding the Scotland of the East statement clear up, if the mist does, revealing rolling moors everywhere.

The limestone caves near Cherrapunjee are a must see. Once inside, the first thing that hits a visitor is the smell of sulphur and guano. Do not let the tulip-shaped lights right at the entrance deter you, the cave provides plenty of atmosphere.

The slippery, paved walks around the caves are a hobbyist’s delight with butterflies, damselflies and dragonflies and deafening racket of crickets, but keep your eyes open for the occasional leech.

It is very difficult to describe Nohsngithiang or the Mawsmai waterfall. To call it breathtaking does not do it justice. The glimpse of the flat Bangladesh plains beyond the green gorge is an eye-opening experience.

Though recently Mawsynram (located just 9km from the place) stole Cherrapunjee’s thunder as the wettest place, to a tourist both would appear equally wet and green. In fact, Sohra appeared a little more green.

The talking point of the trip, however, was discovering a solemn man watering his plants in a Mawsmai village. Drenched and shivering in our taxi, we nearly got down to take a picture.

Rohini Banerjee

(Pictures by author)