The Roads We Take: Samyami’s Journey Through Meghalaya with Thrillophilia
Some trips are carefully planned, and others - like mine to Meghalaya - are a leap of faith. It was not a destination I had thought for months or researched endlessly. In truth, it came to me in a rare moment of spontaneity. It was fueled by the yearning sign of my best friend one afternoon: “Let us go somewhere where the clouds touch the earth.” A quick Google search and a glimpse of the beautiful landscapes of Meghalaya was all it took to set our plan in motion. We booked the tickets, packed our bags, and left all our worries behind.
Little did I know that this journey would teach me the beauty of slowing down and letting life lead the way.
Where Stories Begin
The drive to Shillong was a story in itself. There was fresh air, the hills had a shade of green that seemed to exist only in dreams, and the road twisted and turned like a question mark as if asking us what we sought from this journey.
Our first day in Shillong was calm. There was no rush to tick off landmarks or race through itineraries. Instead, we wandered through the streets, guided by curiosity and hunger. A bustling cafe called Dylan’s Corner caught our eye, and over cups of hot chai, we lost ourselves in its bohemian vibe. The walls were decorated with murals of Bob Dylan, and the music seemed to echo our mood - calm yet restless.
“Did you notice how everything feels peaceful here?” I asked. My friend nodded with a serene smile on her face. “Maybe that is what we have been missing,” she replied. We made a silent pact to slow down and enjoy every moment without rushing towards the next.
The Unexpected Joys of Mawphlang
The next morning, we decided to explore the sacred grove of Mawphlang, which was about 25 kilometres from Shillong. We had heard tales of its ancient legends, and the idea of walking through a forest untouched for centuries felt oddly grounding.
As we entered the grove, our local guide shared its stories in hushed tones, as if the trees themselves were listening. He spoke of rituals once performed here and of how no living thing, not even a fallen leaf, could be taken out of the forest without inviting misfortune. There was a respect in his voice that made me walk lightly as though I might disturb the sanctity of the place.
The forest was not just alive, it seemed to breathe. Rays of sunlight filtered through dense canopies, and the air carried the earthy scent of moss and wildflowers. At one point, we stopped near a cluster of ancient stones that were once used for tribal ceremonies, and my friend whispered, “Do you feel it?” I did. It felt as if the forest held the pulse of the earth within it. This reminded us of how small we were in the grand scheme of things.
Visit to Laitlum Canyons
Later that day, a chance encounter with a local taxi driver led us to Laitlum Canyons, a place we had not planned to visit. “It is the end of the world,” he said with a smile as he drove us there. True to his words, Laitlum felt mystical. The canyons stretched endlessly, their edges covered in mist, and the silence was broken only by the occasional rustle of the wind.
We sat on a rocky ledge with our feet dangling over the edge and watched as the clouds rolled in like waves. “Do you think this is what freedom feels like?” my friend asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper. I did not answer, but in that moment, I felt free - unburdened by deadlines, expectations, and the weight of everyday life.
A narrow trail led down to a tiny village situated in the valley below. Though tempting, the climb back up looked intimidating, and we chose to admire the view instead of staying put. Sometimes, the best adventures are the ones where you let go of the need to conquer and simply exist.
The Wonders of Dawki and Beyond
The following day took us to Dawki. It was a place I had seen countless times in photographs but whose reality was far more exciting. The Umngot River was a mirror to the world and its water was so clear that the boats seemed to float on air. Beneath the surface, we could see every pebble, as though we were looking through glass,
As we drifted downstream, a gentle breeze carried the aroma of grilled fish from a nearby shack. We stopped for lunch on the riverbank, where a Khasi woman served us fish wrapped in banana leaves, along with rich and spicy chutney. It was simple yet bursting with flavour.
The journey did not end there. On our way back to Shillong, we made an impromptu stop at the Krang Shrui Waterfalls. The turquoise pool at its base looked like a scene straight out of a fantasy novel. Unable to resist, we paddled into the water and the chill sent shivers down our spines. “This,” I said, laughing as droplets sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight, “is exactly what we needed.”
Goodbye, Meghalaya!
On our last day, we returned to Shillong and spent the evening walking along its quiet streets. Soaked in twilight, the city seemed to echo our bittersweet mood.
The next morning, as our flight took off, I looked out of the window at the hills fading into the distance. I realised that it was a lesson to pause, to listen, and to let life unfold at its own pace.
Some journeys leave you with photographs, others with souvenirs. But the best ones, like Meghalaya, leave you with a piece of their soul etched into yours forever.
Read More: Thrillophilia Meghalaya Reviews