Today we left the MV Mahabaahu for an excursion to a village on Majuli Island.  We were loaded into the ship’s lighter for the short journey to the shore.  Everything was going just fine until we hit a sand bar that the driver of the boat didn’t see before it was too late.  We were stuck fast for some minutes while attempts were made to reverse off the hull-sucking sand.  These efforts didn’t work, so over the side went most of the crew into the waist deep water. They rocked the boat backwards and forwards in an attempt to break the suction on the hull.  This eventually worked and we finally made it to the wharf/jetty.

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I’m not sure what to call it actually as the ‘wharf’ was  just some boats lashed together with a ramp leading to dry ground.  We tied up to the outermost boat and walked across the others to get to the shore.  Safely on terra firma we boarded some jeeps which took us for a drive along the island.

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Bags of rice and other products were waiting to be loaded on to a boat for a journey to who knows where.  Other necessities had recently been unloaded and were waiting for transport to one of the villages on Majuli Island.

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We stopped to look at some Open-beaked Storks.

This one, along with the rest of the season’s brood, were about to fledge.

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In one of the villages on the island that we stopped at, a green grocer had set up his stall on the footpath. There was no question as to the freshness of the produce, it would have been picked or dug earlier in the morning.

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These guys stood around and watched us – as we watched them.

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There were plenty of modern vehicles on the island.  The smartly attired ladies were off to their place of work.  It was still early in the morning.

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What a wonderful, happy face!

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One of the anti-rooms at Garmur Satra.  An oil lamp burnt softly by a pillar while just out of sight to the left, a priest chanted softly.

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Drums of all shapes and sizes are an important part of Indian ritual.

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Cymbols also play an important part.  Like the drums they are used to keep the beat.

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On the road again jostling for space with all kinds of other traffic.

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One of the young priests at Kamalabari Satra.

His pure white cotton turban and dhoti signify “purity”.

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His dhoti had an intricately woven border.

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While firewood is stacked under cover,

grain is spread on large woven trays to dry in the sun.

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Another young priest enters his lodging.

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A happy, smiling priest sporting a white tika spot.

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Fading flowers on a banana plant.  The fertilised flowers are developing into a “hand” of bananas at their basal ends.  The next set of flowers are developing under the mauve/red bract.

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This elaborate structure is constructed from bamboo.

 It is brightly lit on New Moon nights.

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We were back on board for a late lunch.  After lunch we were entertained on the SunDeck by these colourful dancers who acted out and danced their way through an Indian love story.

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Although the whole dance was in Indian, it was obvious that this couple were in love!

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The characters were elaborately dressed, right down to their shoes.

Watching this dance was a wonderful way to end the day.

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More anon.

David

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