I hardly ever visit so I can't be sure, though. I was born in Shillong and did my schooling there but this was way back in the late 1960s, 70s and early 80s. Then, the town of Shillong- it was not a city, and till 1975 still in Assam; Meghalaya had not been born- was still a hillstation in the imagined sense of the term.

Forest trails, easy-going, kwai-chewing (arecanut) kongs (Khasi ladies) in the marketplaces, few "outsiders", pine trees everywhere, wild roses covering roadside walls, sudden downpours, soft sunshine, cold winters with blazing chimneys. And one could drive right through Police Bazaar and stop by Delhi Mistan Bhandar for hot jalebis and samosas- there was no multi layered parking, half a km away. And Guwahati too was different. One could still wax lyrical about Bhupen Hazarika's Brahmaputra. And go up to Bhubaneshwari temple above Kamakhya for pindrop silence, the breeze wafting up from the meandering river way below, and say a prayer to the lonely goddess in her sanctorum.

Also read: Explore the food and culture of Assam with Rocky Singh



Now there are a bizarre bunch of shops, offices of some kinds and worst, blaring Hindi music. Then, there was Kaziranga of my time. We would stay at the PWD guest house on the edge of the forest, and go on elephant safaris at the crack of dawn. There were rhinos grazing about like village cows everywhere; as were hundreds of deer and other fauna. Now I believe there are fancy 5-star resorts even as the rhinos are being murdered routinely. Visits to the Manas sanctuary would definitely get you tiger sightings. Now, I hear you get only gun-totting extremists and agitators in one of India's best-ever natural habitat for an incredible range of flora and fauna. It was possible to join a walkathon to Barapani lake-then it was not Umiam- from Guwahati, and not be at risk of being killed by roaring, polluting trucks carrying away loads of mountain soil to build city multistoreys. The people of Assam were simple and happy with their masor tenga and bhaat (tangy fish curry and rice), and seriously lived by the delightful code of "lahe, lahe" (literally: slowly, slowly).

Bhupen Hazarika is dead and I think my Assam too has passed.