I’ve been day tripping in Doomdooma for the last couple of years I’ve been visiting Upper Assam. It is yet another town in Assam, left forgotten and unbothered. Tracing its origin to the days of the primordial; it has been mentioned in the Mahabharata. Cradled by the River Doomdooma, it seems it flowed into the bathroom of an epic warrior. Today one would see huts on one side of the bank flanked with tropical greenery; it is a quintessential picture of the Far-East with a flotilla of quaint old boats.
Down the town, my parents and I make our way to our tea estate. Irrespective of the season, it is a delightful place to be at; the Camellia Sinensis, the elephant apples, the monkeys, the birds, the oranges, the ferns and the stream flowing by create the perfect setting for a picnic, followed by a round of tea and then heading back home. In the winter, it gets really dewy, something that I felt homesick about for years when I was away from home. In the summer, the crickets, the frogs and the mosquitoes will keep one awake in the estate.
There was a time when I lived there as a child with my parents and sister in a house which boasted of an expanse of a lawn. It was all too bewildering in the evenings as if we were the only ones living in an abandoned forest in a really still house with antique paintings and furniture. It was all about tree shadows, silence and an eerie moon. During the day, it was alright. Years later after we moved out of there, we heard from the grapevine that someone had committed suicide decades ago. The house was unoccupied for decades following the event until my dad fell for it.
(Article by Kabita Sonowal)