Journey to Kalimpong

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

Despite some sojourns back to the states, I’ve now lived in this Kolkata house longer than anywhere else since selling my Ohio farmhouse back in 2014. Alas, it’s been so very necessary to have a solid home base after bouncing around between short-term spaces; but solid no longer describes this house that I’m renting.

We knew that this place had a limited shelf life, with a building owner intent on knocking everything down to build luxury apartments as soon as he could purchase the second half of the building (it was split between two sisters). But now, it seems he’s anxious to stay ahead of interest payments and, with no notice a few weeks ago, someone entered our home to take pictures and measurements with the hopes of renting the now empty lower level, as well as the floor that I live in.

Thankfully, that pop-up possibility seems to have fizzled out, but it’s now clear that at nearly any point in time, we may be forced to move if someone comes in with an offer of more money. Granted, I’ve been ready to flee urban life for quite some time. This gets the ball rolling even if our ducks aren’t quite lined up yet.

Enter Kalimpong– this hill station in the Lesser Himalayas wooed me a few years ago when I visited neighboring Lamahatta (meaning Monk’s Hut). The tea estates of Darjeeling are nearby. Kalimpong seemed to have more resources than Lamahatta– which is literally a couple bends in the road– and doesn’t have the crowded tourist vibe that Darjeeling holds.

Online listings are practically non-existent there, so Sanjoy and I made the overnight journey towards the Northeastern landlocked peninsula (between Nepal, China and Bhutan) so that we could look for houses ourselves. It turns out, there’s not as much available as we had hoped, though there are a few locals keeping an eye out for us.

I realized on my third visit, now looking through the eyes of a potential resident, rather than paragliding and hiking and visiting forest temples, is that this town is still loud and congested. It took hours to get down from the mountains, with lines of SUVs crowded like clown-cars full of tourists, bumping along through roads that have partially washed out due to landslides. My images this time around are far less romanticized than before, but I feel like I’m seeing more clearly. I find beauty in the rawness of things and have noticed that the dreamy, magical approach I once took, no longer describes my current viewpoint.