Guwahati, Messed Up by Monsoon: My Jumbled Take
guwahati, the biggest city in assam, sits right on the banks of the brahmaputra river at 26.18°N, 91.76°E, about 55 meters above sea level. it’s basically a plain surrounded by 18 hills and a whole mess of forests, scrublands, grasslands, wetlands, and the river itself. the coordinates are weirdly specific, but you can see it on a map, and honestly i don’t care that much until the flood season starts. i just checked and it’s 20.98°C with feels‑like 20.7°C, humidity 60%, pressure 1013 hpa. hope you like that kind of thing. feels kinda warm but still not as oppressive as the summers that can hit 35‑40°C. the best time to be there is apparently october‑april, and i’m writing this in late november, so i guess i’m already sweating a little.
the city has over a million people jammed into 216.79 sq km, giving a density of about 2,695 per sq km. that number sounds big, but you only get the feeling when you’re stuck in traffic and the honking never stops. a lot of folks moved here for jobs or school, so the mix is a weird blend of older assamese families and new migrants trying to figure out how to cook roti with rice. the downtown area looks like a chaotic collage of markets, buses, and construction sites that never seem to finish.
if you get bored, narengi town is just a short drive east, and lgb international airport lies west of the city. dispur, the administrative seat, feels like a different city entirely, tucked in the middle of all this mess. shillong plateau, south of the hills, is basically a quick car ride up the road. you can even pop over to arunachal pradesh or bhutan if you feel adventurous, but the border checks are a joke that still makes people nervous.
someone told me that the bridges over the brahmaputra are “dangerous” during monsoons, and i saw the river swell like a souped‑up river monster during the last few weeks. the bridge traffic crawls because the road is just a single lane each way, and the potholes look like they were dug by termites. but hey, at least the view of the hills from the bridge is kinda nice, if you can ignore the smell of diesel.
food here is straight up river‑life. you’ll find diri maach (yogurt fish) on every street, along with masor tenga, a sour fish curry that makes my stomach twitch. pithas (rice cakes) come in sweet and savory, and they’re basically everywhere. i tried one that was still warm from the steam, and it tasted like a warm hug from my grandma’s kitchen. the market smells like fish, spices, and incense all at once, which is either exciting or overwhelming.
the tourist stuff isn’t “picturesque” or “nestled” like a brochure would say. there’s the dipor bil lake, a freshwater swamp that’s great for bird‑watchers but also full of mosquitoes. the amchang wildlife sanctuary is a forested hill that you can hike up if you’re not too lazy, but the paths are muddy and the view at the top is a blur of trees and clouds. the brahmaputra banks are just a flat stretch of muddy earth where locals wash clothes, kids play cricket, and stray dogs nap. none of it is glossy, but it feels real.
i’ve been living here for a few weeks now, and the humidity is always above 80% when it’s not raining. that makes the sweat stick to your skin like glue. monsoons hit from june to mid‑october, dumping 1,600‑1,800 mm of rain a year. i’ve seen streets turn into rivers twice already, and the local authorities seem to have a “we’ll fix it later” attitude. if you’re planning to stay long, get a sturdy umbrella and maybe a waterproof backpack because the weather can switch from sunny to downpour in seconds.
the city’s growth is crazy. new malls, new tech parks, a new metro plan that’s never materialized, and a ton of traffic jams. it feels like a mad rush to be the next bangalore, but without the organized chaos. still, it’s a hub for transport across assam, meghalaya, arunachal, and bhutan. you can hop on a bus to shillong, catch a flight from lgb airport, or even ride a rickshaw through the narrow lanes of dipor bil. the connectivity is a mess but it works.
if you ever want a quiet break, the woods north of the city (the Himalayan spurs) are only about 70 km away. you can drive up, see some pine trees, and feel like you’ve escaped the city’s heat. but be warned: the roads get treacherous after rain, and you might need a 4×4 just to get to the viewpoint.
overall, guwahati is a place that makes you feel both exhausted and strangely alive. the river, the hills, the endless chatter of street vendors, the weird mixture of old traditions and new tech-everything feels like a draft you can’t quite edit. if you’re ready for that kind of vibe, give it a go. the city might not be perfect, but it’s definitely messy, human, and unforgettable.
i still haven’t figured out how to cook doi maach without burning the yogurt, but i’ll keep trying. maybe one day i’ll find a place that serves pithas without the 30‑minute wait. until then, i’ll just keep wandering around dipor bil with a camera and a broken umbrella, hoping the weather cooperates.
You might also be interested in:
- https://topiclo.com/post/ciudad-guayana-or-how-i-learned-to-stop-worrying-and-love-the-river-mud
- https://topiclo.com/post/bilaspur-is-hot-as-hell-and-im-still-sweating
- https://topiclo.com/post/moscow-where-the-history-is-cold-and-the-vodka-is-warm
- https://topiclo.com/post/gwangju-a-chaotic-journey-through-south-koreas-sixthlargest-metropolis
- https://topiclo.com/post/madrid-where-everythings-uphill-and-tapas-are-life