Shillong - with its crisp mountain air, blooming flowers and lovely mountainous drives – has suddenly become synonymous with Amit Paul of the honeyed vocal chords. So what if he lost synonymous the Indian Idol crown to a lesser voice with greater voter support, the man is a hero in his home town.

A visit to this tiny hill station with Paul posters, neat winding roads, cute black and yellow painted Maruti 800 taxis and puzzling one ways (that non-locals shouldn’t even try figuring out) is the experience of a lifetime. You gasp over the stunning girls dressed MTV style; smile at the chubby kids gorging on chicken momos at hand-pushed carts; admire the pretty cane baskets functioning as dustbins every few metres. And, slowly realise that Paul is no fluke candidate. Amidst the chattering monkeys, the sweeping pines and the glittering water falls, there is actually music in the air. Khasi songs blare in the market place; locals whistle past without an obvious care in the world, birds twitter in perfect synch sound on mulberry trees and a chinky-eyed college student in ripped jeans saunters along, guitar casually dangling by the side.

What’s more, even the taxi we have booked arrives with Cliff Richard soulfully singing Bachelor Boy as a grinning Raja, our music buff taxi driver, brakes with a devilish turn and a noisy screech that makes my freshly-shampooed hair stand at end. He flashes his brown stained teeth as apology for being almost 20 minutes late and pops some more supari in his mouth. As appeasement he offers a selection of CDs he will entertain us with on the scenic drive to Elephants Falls and Happy Valley. There’s Asha Bhonsle, Mohammad Rafi, Himesh Reshamiyya, Sonu Nigam and, of course, Cliff Richard. What I realise over the next two days is that Raja knows the words to almost every song and is going to sing along unless you stall him with a particularly noisy coughing spree.

On day one, his tiny taxi drives us down to Happy Falls where an amazing cascade of blue-green gushes down a towering mountainside to splatter on the rocks in a delightful cacophony of sound and colour. He generously stops at the wayside to let us sample the rich orange hued, fat hisalus (wild berries) that spray sweet juices in the mouth and even helps us collect perfectly formed pine cones that we lay in a heap on his taxi floor.
Day two, he takes us along the green hillside covered with a dense curtain of alarmingly large, startling green ferns, and barges entry into prohibited Air Force area by introducing my reluctant husband as the Army officer he is. Finally we are at the view point where he wants us to be.

Laid out in front is an awesome bird’s eye view of Shillong. Pretty Khasi girls in traditional outfits serve tongue sizzling hot tea from large aluminium kettles at roadside shacks whom Raja spends some time flirting with. An old woman with a don’t-mess-with-me expression hands out corn gone cold on the cob camouflaged with a thick coating of masala and local men sell strange hand-crafted birds fashioned from tea bush.

A short drive later, we reach Elephant falls where a set of three waterfalls entice tourists with their gentle play of dancing drops and filtered sunlight. Named after a rock that looked like an elephant but was later lost in an earthquake, the falls have stone steps cut into the rock face that take us down to the small pool where the gushing water finally collects. Barefeet children splash in it, screeching with delight as the cold spray lashes their faces.

A half-clad Sadhu sits on a rock with his cronies pouring mugs full of the icy water on his head. He graces us with what I suspect he attempts as a serene smile, but is actually interpreted as a save-me-I’m-freezing grimace. We callously leave him to his sacred fate and move on. Outside, tourists haggle with  women selling dry flowers and some local products.

Tour over, Raja bundles us back into the car and winds back along the beautiful road that turns gently under large pine trees. Soon we are back with a screech at the Holiday Home where we unload and offer him some instant coffee that he smilingly declines. Then with a jaunty wave our cabbie is off. But not before my tired ears catch the strains of Nasha yeh pyar ka nasha hai, another Amit Paul gem, that friend Raja is whistling in perfect tune to. Sorry Prashant Tamang, I haven’t been to Nepal yet but in friendly Shillong, there is certainly some lovely music in the air.