WHEN you mention Assam, most people think of tea. Those on more familiar terms with the state - on the “Seven Sisters” peninsula that juts out from the northeast corner of India - will think of its beautiful national parks, abundant wildlife and the vast Brahmaputra river.

Assam is a charming place, as serene as it is lush and green, but it also harbours something so fearsome, so fiendishly powerful, that even the elephants flee from it in terror.

There is nothing at all serene about the bhut jolokia, the hottest chilli on earth. It registers an incredible 1,041,427 on the Scoville Heat Unit scale, more than double the score of the previous world record-holder (the red savina habanero).

It is 200 times hotter than Tabasco sauce. And yet, when you bite into a bhut jolokia, there is no pain at first, only a smoky flavour with an intense, apple-like sweetness. Then, after about 20 seconds, all hell breaks loose. I know this because I was foolish enough to try one.

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I went to Assam ostensibly to unwind and savour the tranquil delights of the region, but the bhut jolokia, (or ghost chilli) wasn't far from my mind when I booked the trip. Ever since I was tricked into eating a tiny specimen in a Malawian food market, aged 17, I've been perversely fascinated by powerful peppers.

My introduction to Assam could not have been more tranquil. The first night, after a frenetic stopover in Calcutta, was spent at Diphlu River Lodge, a collection of comfortable thatched cottages on bamboo stilts overlooking a slow-moving tributary of the Brahmaputra.

As fireflies appeared on the riverbank below, we sat down to a simple Assamese meal of arhi (a local river fish), okra and dal. It was delicious, but not quite spicy enough for my tastes. I asked if they had any bhut jolokia. Our host laughed at me. “No,” she said. “I'm afraid not.”

“Do you eat bhut jolokia?” Bertie, my travelling companion, asked. More ominous laughter. Our host explained that you can make a pickle with bhut jolokia and that she, like most Assamese, will put no more than a couple of drops of chilli-infused oil in a big pot of curry. That is as close to eating the ghost chilli as she is prepared to get.

Our conversation was interrupted by a snuffling sound from the far bank. Kaziranga National Park, just across the river from the lodge, is home to two thirds of the world's great one-horned rhinos, and three of them had come to say hello. We could make out only the indistinct grey of their flanks, but early next morning, from the back of an elephant, we saw lots more of them - an awesome sight.

The park also has tigers and leopards and a huge variety of birdlife. It's a twitcher's dream, although I was more interested in the ghost chillies we discovered growing at a nearby Mishing tribal village. They were not yet ripe - green flesh with ominous traces of red - but it was our first sighting and even Bertie, who would “under no circumstances” be sampling the bhut jolokia, was getting excited.

Our next move was to hunt chilli downriver. The company that owns Diphlu also runs luxury cruises on the Brahmaputra, and in the afternoon we boarded RV Sukapha, a handsome passenger ship that looks like a relic from the Raj. (In fact, it made its maiden voyage in 2006.) The ship can accommodate 24 passengers and as many crew, but as this was the final journey of the season, we were the only guests.

Our journey to Guwahati, Assam's largest city, took us four days. In the mornings, we'd disembark with Imran, our well-informed guide. We spent a few hours in a village called Sualkuchi, tracing the silk-making process from worm to loom. At Guwahati's Kamakhya temple, we got a dark thrill from witnessing goats being sacrificed to Sati, the wife of Lord Shiva.

Our chilli hunt was less successful: we scoured every market for bhut jolokia, but to no avail. We salved our disappointment with afternoons of relaxation on the sun deck, and the occasional oily massage in the ship's spa. In the evenings we gathered in the saloon for a drink with the captain, who offered me a tip for surviving the bhut jolokia experience: “Eat lots of sugar cubes.” This only whetted my appetite.

From Guwahati we drove north towards Jorhat, staying overnight at the eco camp adjoining Nameri National Park. Here, we learnt that ghost chillies, when burnt in bundles of dried grass, scare elephants away from crops. The mere smell of bhut jolokia sends the pachyderms packing. What chance would I have when it came to actually eating one?

The next day we reached Jorhat, a large university town in the centre of Assam, and set out for a nearby district where we had heard there was a chance of finding some ripe specimens. We came upon a whole field of bhut jolokia. Most were still green but a few among them were fully grown and fiery red in colour. As I held the monstrous, gnarled fruit in the palm of my hand, my chilli quest began to seem like a bad idea. But it was too late for second thoughts, so I took a big bite, crunched the seeds between my teeth and swallowed. The women tending to the plants stared at me with a mixture of incredulity and horror, as if I'd just ingested a hand grenade. Perspiration broke out on my forehead. My hands and feet began to tingle.

For some reason, I thought I would be able to weather the chilli with dignity. Instead, I became a storm of flailing limbs and strangled protests. My hands scrabbled for the sugar cubes; I tried to douse the agony with water, which was a terrible idea because water only spreads the heat. It wasn't helping that Bertie, who had been filming me, was quivering with laughter.

The worst of it was over within 20 minutes, but for the next few hours I wondered if my mouth and head would ever feel the same. One consolation was that Bertie finally succumbed to his curiosity and took a bite.

Assam could not stand in greater contrast to the warlike fruit that thrives in its fertile soil. Easy-going and hospitable, it is a gentle introduction to the delights of India. I will definitely be making a return visit. As for the ghost chilli - the scourge of elephants, the bane of the unwary traveller - I think once is probably enough.

Need to know

India Beat (00 91 141 651 9797, www.indiabeat.co.uk) offers tailormade chilli and wildlife tours of Assam (October to April) from £1,900pp for accommodation, car with guide and most meals, but not flights.

British Airways (0844 4930787, www.ba.com) flies from Heathrow to Calcutta from £430.

Jet Airways (0808 1011199, www.jetairways.com) flies from Calcutta to Jorhat from £137.

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