INTRODUCTION
The plains comprising four districts of North Bengal — namely Jalpaiguri, the plains of Darjeeling, Alipurduar, and Cooch Behar — are bounded on the north by the mountainous regions of Sikkim, Darjeeling, and Bhutan; on the south by the neighbouring country of Bangladesh; on the east by the state of Assam; and on the west by another neighbouring country, Nepal. Across this region flow several perennial rivers — such as the Mahananda, Teesta, Jaldhaka, Torsa, Kaljani, Raidak, and Sankosh — descending gradually from the northwest to the southeast. Along the banks of these rivers, nature itself has nurtured several wildlife sanctuaries, among which the notable ones are Gorumara National Park, Chilapata and Jaldapara Wildlife Sanctuaries, and the Buxa Tiger Reserve. In addition to these, countless tea gardens spread across the districts of Darjeeling, Jalpaiguri, and Alipurduar lend the region its evergreen charm. Around September and October, when the grassy fields bloom with white kash flowers, the northern hills appear vivid and lively under the clear blue autumnal sky. As a bonus, when flocks of unnamed migratory birds join this picturesque scene, how can people remain indoors? Therefore, when people, setting aside their daily work and busy routines, wish to spend at least a day in the lap of nature — cooking, eating, chatting, laughing, joking, and enjoying themselves in the open — such an occasion is called “banbhojon” in Bengali, or “picnic” in English.
AN OUTLINE OF PICNIC WITH BENGALI CINEMA
Bengalis are a people fond of imitation. Whatever they see, they wish to follow. In 1976, the Bengali film Pratham Kadam Phool, starring Soumitra Chatterjee and Tanuja, was released. In this film, singer Manna Dey performed the song “Ami Shri Shri Bhojohori Manna.” It can be said that this song laid down the ideal rules of picnic culture for Bengalis. It inspired people to go on picnics. Later, in 1971, the Bengali film Joi Jayanti, starring the matinee idol Uttam Kumar and Aparna Sen, was released. During this period, the song “Amader Chhuti Chhuti, Chol Neb Luti Oi Ananda Jharna” gave recognition to small, family-based picnics. However, while many consider the first song as representing the ideal picnic, others are unwilling to regard the second one as a true picnic song. The reason is that Aparna Sen was seen leaving home with the children carrying food — something that may be called an outing, but not exactly a picnic. The arrangements and preparations for cooking depend on individual capability and expertise, which may not be possible for everyone. Yet, one must understand that the real charm lies in spending time under the open sky, in the lap of nature.
MY CHILDHOOD AND PICNIC (1984 - 1990)
In my childhood, my idea about the picnic was simply cooking and eating together outside the room on a special day. By “outside,” I meant the open terrace of the house, the courtyard. In our family, picnics usually happen on special days of the year, such as December 25th or the night of December 31st. Some years, we even had picnics on the night of Mahalaya. The picnic equipment was very limited—just one pot, one pan, and our own plates and glasses. The contributions were whatever could be found at home: a bowl of rice, one egg, onions, or potatoes—that was the picnic fund. Since I was small, my duty was only to watch over things and guard them, while the elders did all the work. Being typical Bengalis, our picnic meals had to include rice, fried items, and curry. On December 31st, cooking would begin around nine at night, while Doordarshan National’s New Year celebrations played on TV. Finally, at midnight, after eating, we welcomed the New Year by bursting a few leftover fireworks from Kali Puja, thus ending the picnic. On those days, nearly four or five households in the neighbourhood would hold picnics in succession. And even after everyone’s picnics were done, the neighbourhood corner would still be buzzing with celebrations all night. From time to time, Hindi songs like “Ramba Ho”, “Zooby Zooby”, or “Jimmy Jimmy Aaja Aaja” would float through the air. Occasionally fireworks would go off, followed by bursts of joyful cheering. Before I knew it, I had moved up to Class Two. Our school, Sarada Shishu Tirtha, announced a picnic. As far as I can remember, the contribution was about five rupees. Early in the morning, dressed in my school uniform and carrying a water bottle, I reached school. They took us in a big bus to a paddy field near the Jhinaidanga Check post—that, they said, was the picnic spot. After sitting in circles according to our classes and sections, each of us was given an orange. Then, after playing various games, we sat in line and ate with our classmates—rice and egg curry, along with chutney, yogurt, and sweets. What joy! This was my first time going for a picnic by bus with my school. I also remember the following year when our school picnic was held at Madhupur Dham, in front of the Shankardev Temple. We went there in two big buses. In those days, the temple’s small zoo even had a deer. Anyway, the picnic menu was the same—rice with egg curry, chutney, yogurt, and sweets. As I grew older, the picnic menu also grew richer. Eggs gave way to fish, and then fish gave way to chicken. The older boys, who had returned from studying or working outside, introduced new techniques of cooking meat. I would sit and watch everything. They would soak chopped chilies in sugar water, fry the spices separately, and boil the chicken in another pot—technology! I would keep watch. Finally, we would eat rice with half-cooked spicy chicken, bringing the picnic to an end. At night, lying in bed, the analysis would begin: “Today’s dish didn’t turn out well because such-and-such spice was missing.” From the elders, I used to hear stories of picnic spots across North Bengal—Jhalong, Bindu, Chamurchi, Dalsingpara, Chilapata, Raimatang, Kalikhola, and so many more. Their picnic photos showed beautiful hills, rivers, and forests. And my picnic achievements? A paddy field, the rooftop, or the courtyard at home.
PICNIC AND MY AGE OF EXPLORATION (YEAR 1991 – 2000):
Although Bengali is our mother longue and Hindi isn't our colloquial language. But everyone, young and old could understand some words of Hindi by watching Durdarshan Chanel on Black and White TV. During 1991, one of the songs from the Amitabh Bachchan-starrer film Hum used to blare loudly during street corner picnics. During picnics at home, we had to be careful while selecting songs, because if we played “Jumma Chumma De De” at home, not a single beat would miss its target! In that time, unlike today, there was no YouTube that taught us new recipes hands-on. In Cooch Behar town, there were only two restaurants — Mitali and Trishna — and their signature dishes were Aloo Paratha and Mughlai Paratha. We had to learn everything from newspapers and magazines. There was no chance for a retake. We learned to cook Jeera Rice, Basanti Pulao, Hyderabadi Biryani, Fried Rice, Malai Chingri, Ilish Bhapa, and Chicken Chaap all by ourselves, cooked them, and ate them. If the food turned out well, we earned praise; if not, we got our fair share of taunts and teasing. In those days, there were a few hit songs perfect for picnics, and one of them was “Tu Cheez Badi Hai Mast Mast” from the 1994 film Mohra. During this time, the standard of food at our family picnics has improved greatly — the menu includes salads, snacks, and full-course meals. Some might even call these gatherings as “feasts” rather than picnics. Whatever you call it, the fun remains the same!
PICNIC IN MY HEROIC AGE (2001–2011)
Between 2001 and 2010, a major transformation took place in my life. In 2001, while studying in class twelve, I went for a picnic to Gosanimari Rajpat with my private tuition group. This historic site lies about 25 kilometres south of Cooch Behar town. It holds the ruins of the capital of King Kanteshwar of the Khen dynasty and the temple of Goddess Kamteshwari. Although the place is not rich in natural beauty, it is quite suitable for school students. In the next three years during college, I again visited Rasikbil and Kunjanagar—both places I had already been to before, so I did not feel much excitement. In 2004, while studying in the first year at North Bengal University, we went for a picnic to Jhalong. As far as I remember, it was inside some forest area with tea gardens and a small river flowing by, and hills in the background. I think I was the only person there from our group—no other picnic party was present. The picnic memories used to be captured through film-roll cameras. One roll could take about 34–35 photos. Some students used normal free focus cameras like Kodak KB10, Primer, or Yashica MF2. Later, they would develop the negatives and get the photos printed at Dolphin Studio in the Shivmandir area. The next year, 2005, when we were in the second year, it was decided that we would go to Murti. This time, as second-year students, we had the responsibility of planning and organizing everything for the picnic. I was assigned the duty of finding a cook (Bamun). I thought Bamun meant a priest, so I directly went to the temple priest in the Shivmandir area of the university. The priest not only corrected my misunderstanding but also helped me find a good cook. We bought all necessary items from Kadam Tala market according to the list. On the previous night, we boiled eggs and kept curd and sweets ready. We even smelled the bread occasionally to check if it was getting stale. Everyone was serious about their responsibilities. To prevent theft, some stayed awake all night guarding the goods. The white bus we hired for the picnic was named “Shri Krishner Chandan Yatra.” However, much later during the journey, we discovered that the gas cylinder had been left behind in the VK hostel—and that became another unforgettable story! During that time, picnics were synonymous with Himesh Reshammiya’s songs, especially “Jhalak Dikhla Ja, Ek Baar Aaja Aaja” and “Dil Nashi Dil Nashi.” In 2005, the song “Kajra Re, Kajra Re, Tere Kaale Kaale Naina” from the movie Bunty Aur Babli was a huge hit. In 2006, after joining Rajarhat High School in Cooch Behar as an assistant teacher, I went on a picnic to Jayanti–Hauda with the entire school staff in December. As far as I remember, cooking on the Jayanti riverbed was still allowed then, though playing loud music was banned. During that trip, some of us walked all the way to Chhoto Mahakal. Another hit Bengali song ‘Dayal Baba Kala Khaba, Gach Lagaya Khao’ was quite popular among the picnic parties during this year. The next year, 2007, the Rajarhat School organized a picnic to Totopara. The Toto tribe is North Bengal’s only endangered indigenous community, with a very small population. They were traditionally porters, who carried oranges from the Bhutan hills into India. We had already heard that the place suffered from a severe water shortage. Our bus kept moving further uphill across dry riverbeds of sand and pebbles, in search of water—but to no avail. The intense sunlight made the distant trees appear as if shimmering in a mirage. Those who had climbed onto the bus roof to enjoy the view were unrecognizable afterward, covered in dust and sand. Although we had carried a few drums of water, there was hardly enough left to wash the utensils after eating. I still remember that a coal mine near the Bhutan border was visible from there. In 2008, songs like “Mauja Hi Mauja” from Jab We Met and “Desi Girl” from Dostana were the perfect choices for picnics. In 2009, the Bengali song “O Tunir Ma, Tomar Tuni Kotha Shone Na” gained equal popularity and rivaled contemporary Hindi hits. That same year, after joining Kholta High School in Cooch Behar, my first picnic there was to Fashkhawa. The following year, in December 2010, we went to Raymatang—and thus ended another memorable chapter of my picnic-filled heroic age.
PICNIC IN YEAR 2011 - 2020:
Every academic calendar, as soon as the annual exams ended — usually in the first or second week of December — plans for the picnic would begin. In 2012, we went again to Murti, along with a jungle safari at Gorumara National Park. In January 2013, while on deputation for my B.Ed. course, we all went on a picnic to Chamurchi. That particular picnic added a special dimension to my life. After working for about ten years in a school, I got the chance to be a student again — and joined that picnic with my college and university seniors, friends, and batchmates. Almost everyone had a good-quality digital camera, so the photo sessions were endless. Two buses were arranged from the Tanganmari B.Ed. college. After earning my degree, I returned once more to school life. In December 2013, all the school staff went on a picnic to Sevoke. That time, a large bus was driven right down onto the Teesta riverbed. Mutton, fried fish, salad — there was no shortage of delicious dishes. In the afternoon, a local home guard came and warned us that water would soon be released from the Kalijhora barrage near about 4 pm — we should leave quickly. By evening, all our belongings were loaded onto the bus. As the vehicle started moving along the riverbed, Bimal Da was dancing behind it to the tune of “Main Naagin Naagin, Nagin Dance Nachna.” Behind him, the river waters followed — it looked as if Bhagirath himself was leading Mother Ganga! Thankfully, everyone returned safely that day. Another memorable picnic took place in 2014 — at Sakam. In the following years, depending on the situation, we sometimes hired a bus, sometimes a smaller vehicle. Often, we would fix a picnic spot in advance, but if it didn’t feel good after reaching there, we’d move to another. For instance, we might have planned to go to Kalikhola near Kumargram, but on a change of mind, ended up heading toward Falakata instead. After enjoying breakfast of dalpuri and chhola batora at Falakata’s famous sweet shop Sweety, we even held a vote to decide the final picnic destination! All this was possible because of our ever-smiling driver, Utpal Da, who never said “no” to anything. In this way, in 2015 we went to Gorubathan, then to Paprakhoti, and finally reached Lava. The sight of those towering mountains completely changed everyone’s idea of what a picnic could be. The next year, in 2016, we all went to Delo, and in 2017, to Bindu.
SHORT CHRONOLOGY OF PICNIC IN NORTH BENGAL:
Long ago, employees of various government and private offices, as well as educational institutions, used to go out once a year for a picnic with their families. The picnics were well-planned and organized, making them high in quality. Separate chefs were taken along for cooking. Breakfast typically included boiled eggs, bread, jam, butter, tea, bananas, and biscuits — a truly royal affair. The children of the families would perform recitation of poems, dances, songs, and recitations, bringing wide smiles to their parents’ faces. Often, some sports items like tennis balls, badminton sets, or footballs were also taken along. Lunch consisted of rice, dal (lentils), fried brinjal, fish fry, and mutton, followed by chutney, curd, and sweets for dessert. In the earlier days, banana leaves were used as plates, but by the early 1990s, plates made of sal leaves became common. Initially, these sal-leaf plates were stitched together with small sticks, so if one mixed the rice with mutton curry too forcefully, the plates would tear. The women of the house carried betel leaves (Pan), areca nuts(Supari), and lime with them. Before returning home, the bus would stop somewhere for another round of tea. Meanwhile, various community clubs, Associations also organized picnics. In most cases, the arrangements were good, though in some instances, the clubs’ mismanagement was quite noticeable — a “have oil but no salt” kind of situation. And if one or two drunkards joined in, it added fuel to the fire. Gradually, sturdier sal-leaf plates sewn with fine thread appeared in the market. A few years later, around 1995, the use of thermocol and paper plates began. In winter, the oranges produced in the Bhutan hills were primarily transported by Bhutanese porters from Chamurchi–Samsing, Totopara, Jaigaon–Funtsoling, Pana, Raymatang–Adma, and a place called Hauda situated on the bed of the Jayanti River. They packed the oranges into wooden crates and loaded them onto Indian lorries. At that time, the India–Bhutan border was almost like an open field. Occasionally, border posts could be seen, but there were no barbed wires or walls. Therefore, during picnics, even if cooking was done in dry riverbeds, enthusiastic people could cross into Bhutan without restrictions, traverse the narrow hilly paths, and visit local villages at higher elevations. On the way back, they would bring some oranges for a small price from local villagers. Around 2001, India gradually started deploying Sasastra Sima Bal (SSB) forces along its Bhutan border. Furthermore, during this period, in the northeastern part of Alipurduar district of West Bengal—covering areas like Kumargramduar, Sankosh, Raidak, and Bhutanghat—the activities of the KLO (Kamtapur Liberation Organization) and ULFA (United Liberation Front of Asom) increased. As a result, on 15th December 2003, the Indian Army and the Royal Bhutan Army (RBA) jointly launched Operation All Clear against KLO, ULFA and NDBF (National Democratic Front of Bodoland). As a result due to security issues, consequently, several picnic spots in this area, such as Yamduar (Assam), Kalikhola, Kumargramduar, Newlands, Turturi, and Dhoompara, Sankosh were closed. To reduce the pressure of increasing population, some picnic spots such as Rasikbill, Kunjanagar, Rosomati, Khukshia Park, etc., were developed. These were mostly forested areas near reserve forests. People started visiting these picnic spots in groups using buses, trucks, or small cars. As far as I remember, until around 2004, cooking on a picnic using firewood was common. In the small settlements of the Terai and Dooars regions, shops selling firewood could be found nearby. Often, in the forest hamlets located just before the picnic spots, stacks of firewood were kept ready for sale. People coming for picnics would buy the required amount of firewood from there, measuring it by weight before taking it along. A problem was that if the fire wasn’t properly extinguished, it could start a forest fire. Beside this, excessive crowds and uncontrolled disposal of waste, especially non-biodegradable plates and glasses, increased pollution, covering the natural beauty of the picnic spots with scattered plastic waste. During this time, local self-help groups were formed. They provided drinking water, cleaned up garbage, and monitored picnic areas for a small fee. Due to strict forest department regulations, around 2005, cooking with gas stoves and ovens became mandatory at picnics in forest areas. Those traveling in small cars brought kerosene stoves for cooking. Picnic activities were allowed in the Jayanti River bed until around 2007–08. Subsequently, following Green Tribunal rules, picnics were prohibited in Buxa Tiger Reserve and its surrounding forests. New picnic spots were developed as substitutes, including Poro Basti, Kodal Basti, Sikia Jhora, Paitkapara, Dalsingpara, Garuchira, etc. Self-help group members also began collecting parking fees from buses, small cars, and other vehicles entering picnic spots to earn something more. As a result, picnic activities that were previously scattered along riverbeds became centralized in designated parking areas. Some local people set up temporary stalls selling tea, chowmein, momos, thukpa, and even hard drinks that feel like small rural fairs instead of natural picnic spots. What was once a peaceful retreat into nature for relaxation and entertainment has now become noisy, with loudspeakers, chaos, and commotion. Quarrels, drunkenness, and occasional fights have become an inseparable part of the picnic experience. What was once called Daina now has a new name—Lal Jhamela Basti. Some people, to avoid the crowds, travel further into the hills in small vehicles. Popular spots include Dudhia, Balason, Rohini, Madhuban, Sevok, Mongpong, Paparkheti, Riang, Kalijhora, Paren, Sakam, Samsi, and Kumai. On 1st January 2010, the Gorkha Janmukti Morcha (GJM) blocked NH10 near Sebok Bridge demanding a separate Gorkhaland state. A few months later, on 15th May, without prior notice, they blocked NH 31 at Malbazar, leading to the closure of picnic spots in the western Dooars. In 2013, the issue escalated when the proposed Gorkhaland included Malbazar, Chalsa, Banarhat in Jalpaiguri district and Kalchini, Madarihat, Jaigaon in Alipurduar district. Conflicts between Nepali-speaking communities in the hills and tribal communities in the tea plantation areas of Jalpaiguri and Alipurduar created further tensions, discouraging people from visiting the Dooars region for picnics in subsequent years due to security issues. During this time, people began avoiding trouble and preferred to go for picnics at places like lower Murti, Dhupjhora, Gajoldoba, Ramsai, Panbari, Duramari, Khuklungbasti, Nathua, Jalpesh, Jamalda, Gosanimari Rajpat, Rajabhatkhawa, Dima, Moner Manus, Panijhora, Nararthali, and Tiyabari Ghat on the banks of the Raidak River. As the state government managed to reach a satisfactory settlement regarding the Gorkhaland issue within a short span of time, the picnic spots of the hills and the Dooars once again regained their charm and beauty. In January 2016, the Bengal Safari picnic spot in the forests of Sukna was inaugurated. Due to the construction of a barrage on the Teesta River, several picnic spots such as Sevoke, Riyang, Kalijhora, and Tribeni were closed down. After some time, other picnic spots like Bandapani, Huntituku, Ultabari, Rangbahadur Basti near Dalsingpara, Mahua, and Lankapara reopened. Most of these places are amusement parks built by local residents, located either in forest areas or along the banks of mountain rivers.
The years 2019–2020 were the period of the COVID pandemic. For nearly two years, we were almost entirely confined to our homes. On social media, some ultra learned personalities even claimed that drinking alcohol could prevent COVID! This pandemic, while socially distancing us from people, also made us give more priority to our own families. After COVID, people tried to avoid public transport such as buses and trains and arranged personal vehicles or bikes whenever possible. As a result, the pattern of picnics changed somewhat after COVID. Unlike earlier, when large buses carried entire neighborhoods, now those with personal means prefer to travel with their family alone. Be it a bike or a four-wheeler, enthusiasts now buy folding chairs, tables, portable gas stoves, fishing rods, tents, etc., from various e-commerce platforms, becoming self-sufficient for their trips. So, whether it’s a small group of four or five friends or a family, most people now travel to different places using their personal vehicles. Although some still consider such trips as “one-day outings” rather than picnics, especially since in many cases people rely on roadside hotels or dhabas instead of cooking themselves. New picnic spots during this time include Gorubathan, Dhoompara, Bandapani, Lankapara, and so on. Every day, buses come here in large numbers from Jalpaiguri, Cooch Behar, Alipurduar, Mathabhanga, Dinahat, and even Tufanganj. Those coming in small cars often go a little higher up the hills rather than stopping at Gorubathan, to places like Paparkheti, Lava, Laligorash, Rocky Island, Sakam, Paren, Jhalong, Bindu, and others. The joy of going on a picnic by bus remains the same as before. For those in small cars, cooking for the whole day is given less priority. Those who do not want to cook at all can try the mutton at Raju Da’s Hotel in Malbazar, Bandana Hotel in Fatapukur, or Boudir Hotel in Lataguri. By evening, seeing the crowd of small cars or big vehicles returning from the picnic, one can understand why Telipara’s tea is so famous. The hit songs of these picnics—songs that could be heard if one stood for about ten minutes at the Falakta bus stand—include “Porom Sundori” from the 2021 movie Mimi, “Jhume Jo Pathan” from the 2022 movie Pathaan, and “Nachu Nachu” from the movie RRR. In my opinion, whether it is a bike or a four-wheeler, the thrill of driving oneself up the hills or along narrow paths through broken forest terrain takes precedence. After gaining more experience and courage in this way, one eventually sets out on long drives to reach farther destinations.
CONCLUSION:
Picnics, outings or travels — all are delightful as long as they remain within control. The joy turns bitter when picnic groups get into quarrels or even physical fights over loud music or reckless overtaking on the road. Nowadays, during the picnic season, if you glance through the daily newspapers, you’ll often come across reports of accidents or clashes among picnic parties. If you look for the reasons behind these incidents, you’ll find the unrestrained obstinacy of young boys and girls who have just stepped from adolescence into youth and refuse to be disciplined. Another contributing factor is the mushrooming of liquor shops everywhere. Today, alcohol consumption is freely at all kinds of social events like funerals, weddings, rice ceremonies, birthdays and even devotional gatherings. So how can picnics remain untouched? The administration has tightened its grip — in many places, there are checkpoints and Breathalyzer tests for drivers, and heavy fines are imposed. The “Safe Drive, Save Life” campaign is also practised actively. Yet, who listens to the voice of reason? Thus, like Tom and Jerry, a game of hide-and-seek continues endlessly.
