Tawang readies for the visit by Dalai Lama.
Tawang has electricity . Hotels and all facilities required for tourists , Tawang those days, in 1962, when I was posted there had none of these facilities and other amenities.
This what Tawang was then :
Tawang, which stands for a grazing ground, was a small cluster of villages located at a height of 10,000 feet, spread on the slopes of the Tawang massif below the monastery. The villagers cultivated millet and maize. They grazed their animals on the grass growing in plenty in the rich pastures spread on the gentle slopes.
The village was out of bounds for the troops. We were not permitted either to mix or to purchase any item from the locals. We could only see and admire the local beauties from a distance, except the lucky Doctors of the Army Hospital,) providing medical cover to the locals also. They were the hot favourites of the local young maidens who lined up every morning for the sticking plaster, both white and black, from the Medical Inspection Room to stick, as a beauty patch, on their face and more than one patch at a time.
Life in Tawang was boringly routine. We were like prisoners, albeit prisoners of peace. Cut of from the world, confined to the very small word of the Brigade HQ. Chinese were not supposed to be in a position to take any offensive action against us till the railway line to Lhasa was ready.
Off parade activities generally revolved around Barakhanas
(Special occasion feast) on unit raising day functions or some other festival, parties in the officers messes of the local units and at times a visit to Tawang Gompa or the Anigompa, the monastery of Buddhist Nuns.
Not withstanding the cloying smell of burning Yak butter lamps, the Gompa was a must on the tourist circuit of all visitors to Tawang, with more than willing guides from the Brigade HQ, armed with a three cell torch. The Gompa had couple of wooden Khajurao type of wooden figurines tucked in a dark corner. I do not know as to why they were there, but were titillating enough for at least one visit.
The possible explanation for their being in the Gompa can be found in an article written by Major General DK Palit,Vr C (Retd) in USI General of October-December 2001 where he describes his visit to the monastery cum fort in Leah. There was similar statue in the monastery. The explanation as given to him was that the godly couple depicted God neither as male nor female but a male-female whole, conjured by the act of copulation.
Tawang had different moods; it could be both heaven and hell, depending on the weather of the day. Deep green undulating grass lands, blue hills, winding silver of river Tawang Chu deep down in the valley, wisps of cloud floating around in the deep blue sky, bright sun inviting one to bask in the pleasant warmth. Also rain and fog for days together, wet clothes and boots, leeches, bleak surroundings, depressed moods, no mail from home for days together all adding to the gloom. No airdrops resulting in any fresh supplies, eating tin stuff for days on end. What the morning would bring was known only with the morning mug of tea.
I was a strict vegetarian, not even eggs, our DQ on the other hand was a pure non-vegetarian. He could only eat meat, but not the tinned variety. I was allergic to tinned carrots and potatoes both of which tasted like nothing on earth, so I devised a recipe of chappati with butter and sugar; both Pereira and I lived on the same - days in days out.
Our main problem, of Officers and OR alike, was food - no variety, insipid tinned stuff; we could neither buy any thing locally nor shoot the local game, which was prohibited. Airdrops were few and far between due to uncertain weather either at Tawang or en route from Gauhati Airfield, from where all the Air Maintenance was carried out including hay for the mules of the Troop of the Mountain Regiment, located at Tawang.
The Assistant Political Officer, V V Mongia and Mrs Mongia, stationed in Tawang had invited the Brigade Staff for Lunch on 15thAugust .I had not eaten curd since long and there was plenty of it on the table. I took a large helping of the same, after the first bite I just did not know what to do, the curd had been prepared from Yak milk and it tasted and smelled like nothing on earth to me. It was an embarrassing situation; I do not remember as to how I managed to get it off my plate.
8 Sepetmber: The Day the Balloon went up
It was 8th of September, a Saturday, a weekend, a legacy left by the British. In bracing cold, Tawang at 10,000 feet plus, was basking in bright sunshine. A clear day with the greens of the meadows, the deep blues of the sky, the silver of the river Tawang Chu, flowing deep in the valley, the browns and reds of houses of the Tawang village. The majesty of the Tawang Monastery, visible not far away, was over powering. Not too cold not too hot, it was just pleasant, a tourist’s delight. However, there were no tourists in Tawang those days except VIP brass who choppered occasionally to stay for lunch, give sermons, talk in platitudes and fly back again to civilisation in plains of Tezpur, Lucknow or Delhi. In any case it was too quiet and peaceful to resemble a noisy and bustling tourists resort.