Nokrek National Park

Listen first. Somewhere above you, the canopy shifts in the wind, and a sound like rain moves through the leaves, even on a dry day. The air here is cool and damp, and it smells of wet bark, moss, and crushed green stems. Underfoot, the path is soft with fallen leaves. Welcome to Nokrek National Park, high in the Garo Hills of Meghalaya, in the far northeast of India. This is a forest that many travellers never reach.

Nokrek sits close to the town of Tura, in the West Garo Hills district. The park protects the high ground around Nokrek Peak, the highest point in the Garo Hills. From these ridges, on a clear morning, the hills fall away in long blue folds toward the plains of Bangladesh to the south. Clouds often sit in the valleys below you. It can feel as if you are standing on an island above a white sea.

The park is the heart of a much larger protected landscape, the Nokrek Biosphere Reserve. In 2009, UNESCO added this reserve to its global network of biosphere reserves. That network recognises places where people and nature are expected to live side by side. The national park forms the strictly protected core. Around it lie buffer zones and village lands, where farming, forestry and daily life continue. So the forest you are walking through is not separated from human life. It is surrounded by it.

Here is the first surprise. Nokrek is one of the most important places on Earth for the wild ancestors of the orange. The hills hold wild citrus trees, including a species known to science as Citrus indica. The Garo people call it memang narang, which is often translated as the orange of the spirits. Scientists consider this area a natural gene bank for citrus. The wild genes in these trees may one day help farmers breed stronger fruit around the world.

The name carries meaning, too. According to Garo tradition, the memang narang is connected to the spirits of the dead. Local accounts say the fruit was used in rituals linked to the journey of the soul after death. These are living beliefs, passed down through families, rather than written history. So if you see a small, rough-skinned citrus fruit on a branch here, look a little longer. For many people in these hills, it is more than a fruit.

Now think about the people who live around this forest. The Garo, who call themselves the A·chik, are one of the main communities of Meghalaya. Their society is matrilineal. Family names and property pass down through the mother's line, not the father's. Many Garo families still farm the slopes using a rotating system called jhum, where a patch of forest is cleared, farmed for a few seasons, and then left to recover. You may see these patchwork fields on the hillsides as you travel in.

The forest itself is layered and dense. Tall evergreen trees rise toward the light. Below them grow tree ferns, bamboo, wild bananas and climbing vines. Orchids cling to branches high above the path. The ground stays dark and moist, even at midday. Because the hills catch heavy monsoon rain, everything here grows fast and green. Take a moment to look up, then down, then up again. Each level of the forest holds a different set of plants and creatures.

This green tangle shelters a remarkable range of animals. Wild Asian elephants move through the hills and the surrounding valleys. The forest is also home to the hoolock gibbon, the only ape found in India. Clouded leopards live here, though they are shy and rarely seen. Sightings of the red panda have also been reported from these ridges. Most visitors will not see these animals. But knowing they share this forest changes how a quiet walk feels.

Here is the second surprise. You are more likely to hear a gibbon than to see one. Hoolock gibbons sing, often in the early morning. A pair will call to each other in long, rising whoops that carry across whole valleys. The sound is loud, strange and almost human. If you hear it, stop and stay still. The song can last for several minutes, and it is one of the most memorable sounds of the northeastern forests.

Water is the other quiet story of Nokrek. These hills feed several rivers and streams that flow down to the plains. The Simsang River, one of the main rivers of the Garo Hills, rises in this region. Further downstream it passes through Balpakram country and on toward Bangladesh. So the rain that falls on these leaves today will travel a long way. Many villages below depend on the water that this forest collects and slowly releases.

The usual way into the park passes through small Garo villages on the lower slopes. Daribokgre is one village often used as a starting point for treks toward the peak. The trails can be steep, narrow and slippery, especially after rain. Local guides know the paths, the plants and the stories, and walking with one adds a great deal. They can point out medicinal plants, animal tracks, and the wild citrus trees that are easy to miss.

As you walk, notice how the forest changes with height. Lower down, there are signs of people: cleared fields, bamboo houses, the smoke of cooking fires. Higher up, the trees grow taller and closer together, and the air becomes cooler. Near the ridge, mist can roll in quickly and hide the view in minutes. Then it lifts again, just as fast. Patience is useful here. The hills often show themselves only for a short time.

Before you leave, stand still for one more minute. Feel the cool air on your face and the soft ground under your shoes. Listen for birds, for running water, perhaps for a distant gibbon. Look at the leaves around you, the ferns, the moss on the bark. This forest has been shaped by rain, by wild animals, and by the people who have lived around it for generations. As you walk back down, watch for one small, rough orange on a branch.