The Riding Soldier: Traffic Discipline at Shillong Police Bazar & Warm Momos (Part 3)
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Umiam Lake left a deeply profound mark on my soul. Carrying a mixed emotion of a heavenly folklore and the silent sigh of the mountains, I kicked off my 'Dhannu' once again. The evening light was fading away rapidly. Moving away from the banks of Umiam Lake, my heart grew heavy with a strange nostalgia, but a rider cannot pause at one place for too long. So, with a heavy heart, I revved the accelerator, piercing through the foggy mountain trails toward my destination—Shillong, the Queen of Clouds
By the time I entered the main city of Shillong, dusk had completely fallen. Along with the evening came a massive blanket of thick, white mountain fog. The chilly mountain wind was piercing right through my riding gear, giving me goosebumps. Carefully maneuvering my bike through the dense fog, I finally arrived at the literal heart of Shillong—'Police Bazar'.
The Wonder of Shillong Traffic Discipline
The atmosphere there was truly something to behold. On one hand, there was the typical heavy congestion of local taxis and cars along the winding mountain roads, their headlights glowing like fireflies in the fog. Yet, amidst this intense traffic jam, one specific thing caught my absolute attention—the traffic points! Every single traffic police officer and driver on the road exhibited an unbelievable sense of discipline and mutual respect.
In my mind, I couldn't help but compare this experience to the daily traffic chaos and lack of public discipline back in my own home state. It made me realize the broken state of our local traffic management, where breaking rules is treated like a competition. Seeing Shillong’s impeccable, systematic order truly filled my heart with admiration. Nobody was breaking the lane queue, nobody was honking unnecessarily—the traffic was being managed in a remarkably peaceful and disciplined manner.
After crossing that highly disciplined jam at Police Bazar, I reached my designated staying spot and checked into my room. On account of continuous riding through the long, demanding mountain highways all the way from Guwahati through Nongpoh and Umiam, my body was thoroughly exhausted. Moreover, with the bone-chilling cold outside, my body was desperately craving some warmth.
A Heavenly Taste of Warm Momos in the Chilly Evening
After freshening up, I stepped out onto the streets of this fog-draped, freezing town. The delicious aroma of steaming local food drifting from the roadside stalls instantly rejuvenated my spirits. In this kind of mountain weather, it is impossible to resist the temptation! I quickly walked into a local eatery and ordered a plate of piping hot momos.
Within a few minutes, a long black plate was placed before me. Four beautifully arranged, steaming hot, snow-white momos were served alongside a fiery, red-hot spicy chutney that instantly made my mouth water! A steel fork lay beside it.
On that fog-shrouded evening in Shillong, amidst the freezing cold, I picked up a momo with my fork, dipped it generously into the spicy chutney, and took a bite. Every single bite felt like pure, heavenly bliss! The hot, juicy filling inside perfectly complemented the thin outer layer, creating sheer culinary magic with the heat of the chutney. This simple comfort food instantly washed away all the exhaustion of a tired rider in a single blink. Both my body and mind felt thoroughly recharged for the upcoming miles ahead.
An Elusive Love: The Beauty of Incomplete Journeys
After finishing the momos, I returned to my room. Looking out the window at the distant mountain lights of Shillong shimmering through the dense fog, a deep wave of nostalgia began to settle inside my heart. My day came to an end here. Perhaps tomorrow morning, I will have to finish all my pending official tasks and hit the familiar highway back toward the plains.
My heart feels heavy thinking that I am leaving Shillong without fully exploring it, leaving behind a somewhat incomplete or 'Adhura' emotion. So much remains left unseen—the pine forests of these hills, the endless winding roads, and the untold stories left to share with the passing clouds. But I comforted my heart with a thought: **the stories that remain incomplete are the very places where the promise of a return is born! The beauty of this incompleteness is far more intense than absolute closure. What is complete ends right there; but what remains unfinished keeps a eternal yearning and a familiar pull alive within the soul.
The life of a soldier is exactly like this—a beautiful collage of incomplete stories. Today we are deployed here on duty, and tomorrow on some distant international border; the luxury to settle our minds or get deeply attached to a place is far too short for us. Yet, within this brief incompleteness lies a unique, beautiful joy. I might not have witnessed this mystical, fog-covered town of Shillong in its entirety today, but this very elusive emptiness will guide my two wheels back onto these mountain highways once again someday. Duty calls me back to the plains today, but in the diary of my memories, this chapter of Shillong will remain an unsolved, thrilling adventure forever.
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