Travels I have done many; Journeys, a few. And trekking, some in the Himalayas. Since that fateful day in 2011, when I first stepped out of a train onto Katgotham railway platform and breathed the sharp clean air, I transformed into another person. Himalayas brought home a curiously different perspective to life, an amazing disconnect from the life that was before, a new set of glasses to view the world through.
In the first place, I did not choose to be a tourist who pays for an adventure which is meticulously planned to pump adrenalin into your veins and when you have extracted your money’s worth, you get back to making more of it to pay for another planned adventure. I chose a alternative model, where villagers hosted me a night or two in their little stone houses, shared their food and their lives with me and helped me on – for a small sum of money given into the kitty of each village committee that fell on the trail I chose. A porter carried my single 17kg bag to the next village far ahead of me. He had the skill and practice to do it in a fraction of the time I took. A guide from one of the five villages that sheltered me was my constant companion for eight days. Sher Singh (Kshatriya, he said proudly) spoke Hindi to me. He could speak reasonably good English to foreigners), and Kumaoni with his people in the hills. Kumaon is in Uttarakhand State, which is vertically divided into Gharwal on the West and Kumaon in the East, in lower Himalayas on the Nepal border. Sher Singh was very knowledgeable of the flora and fauna of the region, the conservation projects, the customs and traditions of the region in comparison to several other places he had been to in India, and of course, the politics and cricket which are two great passions for most Indians, however remote their region.
Here are my journal entries:
30th March 2011 Wednesday
I left for Kathgodam from Delhi by train in 2 tier A/C. Met a Mr Joshi from Nainital on it. He had been a civil engineer in PWD in the region. Learnt some about the economy, the change after bifurcation of UP into Uttarakand and UP, about the pros and cons of being a small state in terms of politics and economy, about North-South India contrast, development, and travel. And when I mentioned that my best experience was Turkey and worst was Egypt, the said “Egypt mein sab Musalman honge”, meaning that explains the bad experience!!! Here was a man who had not stepped out of India, had few encounters with Muslims – and not bad ones at all, as he told me later, since there were very few Muslims in the hills – but he had definitive negative stereotype in his head. How deep is the prejudice!
1st April 2011 Friday
I reached Kathgodam at midday and left for Khali Estate in a Maruti Alto. Bhimtaal – Nainital – Almora – Binsar Forest Sanctuary in four and half hours. I did not eat anything at all for lunch. Had had the poha that Meenu, the guesthouse cook in Delhi, had packed with boiled egg in the morning. I was dying of headache and other withdrawal symptoms for lack of coffee. Its unbelievable but no coffee was available anywhere on the way at the stations or the train. Only cool drinks and chips and tea. So I asked the driver to take me to a coffee place on the way, not lunch. Had two espressos and bought a packet of Nescafe Classic coffee, which would provide for my daily morning fix of caffeine.
The long road to Binsar bird sanctuary was not too good. Long stretches had been washed away during the last monsoon season (2010), which had been particularly severe all over the world. The hills had had more rain than any time in living memory. The Kosi river had cut into the hillside under the road and you could still see big swathes of the highway that were neatly cut and lay several metres below the road level. New road had to be cut into the hillside and paved. The work was on going, though at a very slow pace. Why? Most young men have migrated from the hills in search of work to the plains. Many joined the Army. The only labour available is migrant labour from Nepal, which has now become scarce due to political unrest there and our own immigration policies here. With the coming of Communists to power in Nepal, better labour employment is available there. Hence, with such little manpower, public works that employ massive labour force, have come under pressure and can only proceed very slowly. Migrant labour from Bihar and Bengal and Western UP also come, though the numbers are small.
The rough ride was worth the amazing sunset at Khali Estate located inside the sanctuary. I reached my destination bone tired around 4pm. Met Dinesh Pande, the man behind the socialist business model of Village Ways. He must be in his early forties, square built and very polite. He discussed tomorrow’s plan with me and explained the business model to me. There are directors, including a Brit, who have made the initial investment and there are village committees (VCs) that are shareholders as well. The directors take part in running the offices and marketing the ‘responsible tourism’ concept, mostly in UK. I was the first Indian to go on this trek. It actually is pretty expensive for the Indian traveller at about Rs 8000/- per day, all paid. At about 100 pounds for them, it’s reasonable. The tips are also paid in a central account. The profits and tips are distributed to the VCs after the directors take their share of profit and 10% of the VCs share is kept aside as village development fund which can be given to the back office people as performance incentive. The VCs get paid on the per person/night basis cost as well as share of profits. The business has been around for five years and has been making profits. Perhaps we need to look at such business models for India instead of either capitalist free economy or left, state ownership or community based enterprises, such as this.
It was almost sunset time and very cold outside on the terrace where we sat. I excused myself and went to my single room cottage to have a hot shower and change for dinner. The room was a cylindrical stone building with a high conical roof of galvanised iron and wooden ceiling. Wooden floor as well. There was a big picture window on the mountain-view opposite the door and smaller windows on all sides – almost a 180 degrees view of the Himalayas. The beauty of the landscape is incomparable. Khali Estate, is situated at about 2100 metres ASL. Picturesque.
I washed my hair and used the dryer for the last time on the trip since there is no electricity in the villages – only solar lamps and heaters. At 7:15pm, 3 couples [two young Gujarati and one old Brit] and I gathered in the hall of the old and very colonial Khali Estate main building to listen to Madan Sah, the Estate Manager tell us of its history. He has been associated with it since his college days. He is 50+ I think, lean, small built, with a stammer that some how makes what he says kind of charming. He repeats whole words. He has that sensitive look and is extremely polite, with a shy sense of humour. He has a lot of anecdotes and surprisingly many Urdu verses to quote.
Khali Estate has a history. It was built by an officer in the British Army, but later was owned by Vijayalaxmi Pandit, Nehru’s sister! Whenever Nehru was released on parole from Almora prison during the independence movement, he stayed at Khali. His room is still there but the furniture is changed. In the book, ‘In Search of Happiness’ by Vijaya Laxmi Pandit and another one ‘Nehru’s Letters to his Sister’, Khali has been mentioned many times. Indira and baby Rajiv spent some days here as well. Then it passed into the hands of a Gujarati businessman, was made into a Khadi ashram for a few years when Gandhi visited it. Then, it has passed into the hands of a local business Pande family. Himanshu Pande was the youngest one to inherit it. He lives in Bombay and visits once or twice a year. His father Mathura Pandey is still the patriarch with all decision-making in his hands. He brings renowned journalists to stay here and write about it and also god men or god women like Anandamaayi. Since 1950, only vegetarian food has been cooked in this place!!!! By the way, in the hills, vegetarian includes eggs.
I had a very delicious vegetarian meal, served lovingly by Sher Singh [Not my guide. Seems like a very common name in the Hills]. While I sat alone at a table in the dinning room, The Gujarati couple came to me and asked if they could sit with me. They had eaten outside on their way to Khali but just wanted to talk to me. They were very young 24 and 21. Anish was very mature. He has a furniture showroom in Mumbai. The girl is an interior designer. We discussed a whole range of topics; from relationships to probity in public life to secularism to Urdu poetry . . . .Madan Sah joined in and it was almost ten o’clock before we said good night. I would not see them again because I was going into the hills the next day, while they were headed to Himachal and then to Mumbai. Lovely, mature, happy and very much in love.
2nd April 2011 Saturday
The night was cold and although I had switched on the room heater, the room got colder and colder. Only in the morning did I realise that I had not pressed the ‘hot’ button on the heater because I could not see it without the specs!!! The device had acted like a fan!!
I woke up at 4 am as usual and washed and dressed and repacked my bag and walked out into the woods. It was freezing and there was no movement in the main building or guest cottages. I returned after a walk along the perimeter of the Estate and sat at the picture window, waiting for sunrise. I didn’t know which was East. It started to grow light belying my expectations of it being spectacular. As it turned out, my window faced South. Then, what I saw next took my breath away! The sun shone off a whole range of snow-covered peaks!
Trishul I – 23,360 ft.
Nandadevi – 25,643 ft
It was an awe-inspiring sight. The snow-covered peaks, bathed in the lilac morning light, appeared like gargantuan, brooding giants. It was almost a spiritual experience and I started to mumble a disjointed prayer – nothing I had ever learnt but whatever my befuddled mind put together. I desperately wanted to share it with someone. But who? In any case, the mobile signal was zero, so I could not have been able to call anyone. I looked at the whole Trishul – Nanda Devi range without blinking, reluctant to miss a moment of the constantly changing play of light and shadow as the sun rose higher. Then it vanished in the mist as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving me with a strange sense of loss; not just of the sight, but also of not being able to share my first sight of the great Himalayas. That sight is so etched in my mind that I will forever recall it in its every detail and feel the same spine tingling sensation.
I walked around the estate and looked into the library. Most books were on Hinduism. One was by Malvankar, a Congress freedom fighter. There were some on Himalayas and Sanskrit language. I went out on the terrace facing west and sat down quietly, turning inward, contemplating the unpredictability of life. What had brought me here? Where was it taking me? Isn’t it strange that I am where I never expected to be and discovering so much within and outside my world?
Breakfast was puri aloo and that was packed for lunch as well. We, Sher Singh and I started off in time at 8:30 with the trekking stick and some mango juice and water. My bag, was carried by a porter, who would drop it off in the next village where I was to stay for the night. An elderly Brit couple also started off along with me but with two other guides and I soon lost sight of them. Sher Singh carried the binoculars and my camera and food. He walked ahead slowly and I followed close behind. On the first day, it was mostly downhill. Walked five hours non-stop through forests of Oak, Cedar [Deodar], Lavanya, Pine [Chirh] and Rhododendrons. Gosh! What a flaming maroon in full bloom! Rhododendrons that caught the eye and held your attention – in all directions. There were many birds: Bulbuls and Woodpeckers in so many different sizes and colours, Finches, Parakeets – several different ones, Barbets; green and black, Black Birds, Tits; very tiny, yellow and rust, Laughing Thrushes; brown and fat and absolutely fearless. Saw a Barking deer that really did bark! And came across two mountain springs bubbling up and flowing down the mountain side, gurgling over rocks and cutting deep gullies in stone and earth. At 2500 metres, the view was to die for. Seven mountain ranges, lined one behind the other, each a distinctly different hue, starting with the deep green right up close, to blue-green, to blue and blue-grey on the farther horizon. They hold you in a trance-like joyous sense of their immensity. Himalayas are nothing like anything else! I loved every step of the way. All this beauty, this fresh rarefied air, this sense of the humungous presence of the mountains, this almost spiritual reverence for nature, and no one at all to share it with!
The stay in Gonap was basic but the view was fantastic. No electricity, no piped water or mobile phone tower. But I got to watch the world cup final in one of the houses on a small TV set run on car battery!!!!! I could just see blurs and hear the audio. India won against Pakistan! And what a win after 28 years!!!!. I distributed the chocolates that I was carrying. Every member of that four-house-village was there. The houses are made of stone, walls plastered with clay-dung. The threshold is very high; about one and half feet at least. Perhaps it is to keep snakes and snow out. The sloping roof is of slate tiles, the overlaps sealed once again with the same plaster. Most doors and windows are painted blue in that stunningly white washed walls. Yes, like Greece. The threshold has stripes of chalk and turmeric to make it both auspicious and keep disease out. Inside the house, most partition walls are made of wooden planks and the floor is patted down hard earth with dung plastering. Absolutely clean. Animals have to be kept in a room on the side of the house because there are many leopards roaming the forests. Terraced fields are used for growing wheat and vegetables and fruit trees like almonds, walnuts, peaches and apples. The last of cauliflower was being taken out and it was pink!!! The vegetable that was being harvested was potato and I was given potato curry with phulkas for dinner. The Brit couple also came, but I had dinner in the kitchen while an elderly lady from next door made hot phulkas and my porter made curry while the guides served food. It was lovely to sit by the wood fire since the cold was biting sharp.
I had had a hot bath from the solar heater in the afternoon. The bathroom and the loo are outside, along the sidewall of the house. After sundown, it is pitch dark because there is no electricity. The company has given solar lanterns for guests to be used when absolutely necessary because the charge is only for 2 or 3 hours. I wore three layers of clothes and gloves and socks to bed under a thick quilt and still felt cold. Dinner follows on the heels of sundown and then everyone retires because there is no electricity and hence no light and it is very cold to keep doors and windows open. The sky is full of big bright low-hung stars. My room was tiny, with two tiny cots, covered with mattresses and blue sheets. A mosquito net enclosed each bed. I walked to the loo very watchful of the leopards and quickly returned to my room, locked the doors and windows from inside, and slipped under the quilt, then put my hand out to switch off the solar lantern. Complete darkness! And a little while later, when everyone else in the house had retired; the guides and porters lived in the same house when the guests were present, absolute silence!
Yes, for the very first time in my life, I lived these two rare experiences together – absolute, undiluted darkness and silence!
It was as though the world had ceased to exist, including me. Maybe this is how it is in the grave – no sense of being. Then it struck me that our sense of being comes from our relationship with other objects and living beings. It is relative. When there is no way to relate, then how do we know we exist? Even the tactile sensation [when you touch your face and try to clasp hands together or touch the bed clothes] refuses to be definitive. You think it’s imagined, amorphous. I felt I had died and this was a grave. I felt panic. Then slowly the tiredness took over and I fell into a deep sleep. I woke up several times but it was too cold and dark and silent to stir out. Certain timelessness takes over when no change is perceived by the senses. What is ‘reality and what is imagined? When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I groped my way to the window and pulled at it to open a crack. There was a lilac darkness, a strange other-worldliness to it. This time I was certain this was death. I pulled the window wide open and saw the black silhouettes of the mountain ranges and suddenly a sharp ‘Ha ha ha !’ of a Laughing Thrush and then a hundred different bird sounds. It was nearly dawn. I had woken up from death into a paradise at dawn – just like in my life on earth.
3rd April Sunday
I quickly changed and went out to wash up and be ready to start the day. It was terribly cold. But in the morning light, the little cottage on the terrace below was full of activity. The two daughters-in-law of the lady who had made our dinner last night, were busy bringing water from a spring, several terraces below, the elderly lady was milking the cows and an elderly man was making smoke to keep the honey bees he had caught and brought home to release into a hole in the side wall of his house. The smoke would force the bees to stay in for an hour or so and they would start to build a hive – bees just can’t be idle! The man’s two sons climbed up to our cottage, bringing firewood and digging up more potatoes from the patch below for our breakfast. When the breakfast was ready, they laid it on the little wooden stool out on the terrace.
Just before that Laalu, the big, furry, red mountain dog came down from his home where we had watched television, to play with me and show me that he was my friend. He expected to eat all my poori-aloo breakfast. My fifth consecutive meal with potato!!!! But I wanted him to wait and eat after me. He didn’t like it and he showed his disapproval by moving away and sitting down with his back to me! This guy sure has attitude! After I had taken a small meal, I called him to come eat his share, but Laalu played deaf. I had to go hand feed him. What a nautankki Lalu is! There is a Kaalu as well. In the same house there is a black dog of the same breed perhaps. Kaalu is bad tempered and bad mannered and just stays within his compound. No socialising with visitors like Laalu does. All this while, the fat Laughing Thrushes kept hopping very close to me, looking up curiously. When I was washing my hands, one even came into the bathroom and sat near my feet. Wonder what they are so curious about. Oh, and the crows here are HUGE! There were lots of other birds around and cows and goats and many many newborn goat-kids, but no chickens. Upon asking why, they said these are Kshatriya or Pandit (Brahmin) villages – mostly vegetarian. Only Harijans raise chickens. No one else raises them, though they raise cows and goats.
This is simple life. People eat phulkas with daal and sabzi that they grow. They are very hospitable and polite and cheerful. Women cover their heads with a scarf and wear saree with ulta pallu, over full-sleeved sweaters and silver or gold jewellery – jhumkas, pendants and mangalsutra, thin payal and lots of glass bangles. They burn garbage and make smoke at sunset to keep mosquitoes and other pests that attack cattle, away. The houses are all slate-roofed, stone paved courtyards outside. Many are two storied homes where the family lives upstairs and the ground floor with low ceiling is for keeping animals and harvest produce. The stairs are all straight to the front door – very steep and high – covering the height of a floor in seven to ten steps!!!! In the fields, wheat is almost ready for harvesting. There are crops of onions, barley and coriander now on the terraces. Here and there are scattered banana groves. One Harijan house is far away in the valley. Most guides are Kshatriya or Pandit, the directors are Pandit or British. After the customary photos, I took leave. I thanked the men with folded hands and hugged the only woman there. She held me close for a moment longer, as though it was special to be hugged. I know that need. It felt good for a long time afterwards.
What a looong hard trail it was! We, Sher Singh and I, left the village at around 8:30am. At first it was wondrous to walk through dense forest of Oak, Lavanya or Rhododendrons and Otis. The pines were left at lower slopes as we climbed to 3000 metres. The air was thin and I was breathing hard but surrounded by such diversity and nature’s bounty, was a beautiful experience. I sat down frequently and let the atmosphere sink in. The trail was wide and cool in the shade of the forest canopy. On the way, was a thousand year old sunken rock temple for Lord Shiva. The pujari performed the ritual puja with me. When I came out, I saw two horses grazing and playing by the spring that originates at the temple. The horses were a marvellous sight, as though I was watching a fairy-tale animation film. There was an immense sense of freedom, spring in my step and peace in my heart.
I saw several pug marks of leopards. They are at the top of the food chain in the Kumaon region with the tiger now confined to Jim Corbett Tiger Reserve. The next in line is the wild Boar. A very aggressive animal, which even the leopard avoids. It is the most destructive animal for the meagre crops. Since hunting was banned in Binsar Wildlife Sanctuary, their numbers have increased exponentially.
At first, it was mostly uphill and with the air becoming progressively thinner, it was a kind of drag, but the view and the jungle with flaming Rhododendrons dotting the slopes, it was a high that I was experiencing. I now know why people get addicted to the hills. Then began the descent. It was a very narrow; less than a foot wide and steep path with the dry pine needles making it ever more slippery. Sher Singh had to hold my hand and help me every step of the way. My fear of heights was challenged all the time. This was a three and a half hour descent – rough and difficult. The last km was very rocky. In fact, we were walking over the pebbles of the dry bed of a stream. Somewhere during the time I was still on the way down, I heard the most beautiful sound: the gurgling of water in a mountain stream. I stopped, almost falling over. It was the most magical sound I had heard thus far. But I could not locate the stream. I asked Sher Singh where it was. He laughed and said, ‘That’s not a stream, but the sound of the wind through the Pines!’ I was stunned! Then I recorded the sound in my camera audio. I started to recall the poem I had learnt in the VIIth standard, Tennyson’s ‘The Brook’.
THE BROOK
by: Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892)
I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally,
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.
By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.
Till last by Philip’s farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.
I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.
With many a curve my banks I fret
by many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.
I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.
I wind about, and in and out,
with here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,
And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silver water-break
Above the golden gravel,
And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.
I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.
I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.
I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;
And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.
We descended to a the dry, rocky river bed and walked along until we reached the biggest village so far, Risal. It has eleven houses, all Pandits, at the bottom of the valley. It’s a little claustrophobic to be surrounded by high mountains on all sides. It was 4:30pm. An 8 hour long trek! I was dead beat and so were the Brit couple who had preceded me a few minutes earlier. I had not eaten anything on the way, although we were carrying a packed lunch for two – puris and potatoes again!!!!!
The old Brit couple Nick 77 and Penny 74, seemed in far better shape than me! They have been trekking thrice a year for 16 years now!!!!!! The pain in my left hip joint returned with a vengeance and I had to take Voveran 50mg. But to no avail. I was allotted the upper floor with 7 steps of a foot and a half each. I found it impossible to climb up or down without being helped by two people. The staff was very helpful. I was feverish. They brought my food upstairs and almost carried me downstairs every time I wanted to use the washroom. I found it difficult to sleep with the pain. Sher Singh considerately, gave me a hot water bottle, which was a great help.
Risal is at the bottom of a valley. The clouds lowered and thunder rolled all afternoon but there was no rain. It was getting late for sowing the next crop. There is cauliflower, onion, potato, mustard and lemon now – the dry crops of summer. Ready to harvest. The darkness is like heavy wool piled in layers over the valley.
4th April 2011 Monday
I was up early as usual at 4:30 am but was afraid to attempt the stairs on my own. So, I stayed in the room and packed my things, got dressed, made the bed and tidied the room until it was light and the staff started to stir. I was helped downstairs with much difficulty and did not go upstairs again. I washed up and sat in the kitchen, chatting with the villagers, having breakfast, until it was 8:30am and time to leave.
Most men in the hills go into the army for lack of opportunities. These staff members are ex-service men. Every child goes to school, which is more amazing given the fact that the schools are far, probably in the other village in the next valley, since any single village is too small to have a school for itself. Most young girls are sent to colleges in Almora where they live in tiny rented rooms, shared by 3 or 4 other girls from the same area. Most young married women I met in the villages in Kumaon, are post graduates!!! Men and women are well informed, computer savvy and unpretentious. But they seem to dislike Muslims. The moment they come to know I am Muslim, the tone changes to formal, friendly but distant. In my conversations with the guide, he did air several prejudices. Uttarakhand is only 10 years old as a state and both terms BJP has been voted to power. They complain about corruption, but still support the party. Risal is a Brahmin Pandit village with two harijan families living on the other side of the valley. Caste divide is very apparent.
I walked another mountain path to Dalarh. Reached there by 11:30am – in just 3 hours. Short trek. The trek was beautiful. There were many natural springs and dense forest on the way. Rocky in the end. Easy walk, really. The moment I entered the village, it felt so peaceful. Like coming home. I was immediately at easy and did not want to go away. It has a roadhead at one and half km away and has both electricity and mobile signal tower. It has many Pandits here and houses are the same, but the view of the snow capped mountains is breath taking. It is at 2500 m. Went for a walk around the village. Next door to the guest house is Santosh’s house. He is a guide and his elder brother works at Khali which is walkable distance from here. The village has ten houses, of which two are vacant, the owners having left the hills in search of livelihood. There is a saying here, ‘Pahadon ka paani aur pahadon ki jawani, pahadon ke kaam nahin aati.’ It means the water and the youth of the hills don’t serve the hills. The water runs down and serves the plains and the youth has to go away for livelihood, few opportunities being available here.
There are lots of fruit trees – plum, apricot, apple, wild pears, narangi, orange, sweet lime, walnut and lots of rose bushes. But by far the most enticing of all the natural beauty here, is a pair of apple trees in full bloom. The fragrance is to die for! Nothing appley about it. I just can’t take my eyes off the white and pink blossoms and never want to be out of the smelling range of them. God! What a wonderful experience it is!
Of course, the mandatory vegetable patch next to every stone house with seasonal vegetables was what contributed to the daily menu. The wild boar and the shy mountain goat destroy the crops and the leopard kills the livestock. Since this is reserved forest, no hunting is allowed. So, there are now fewer avenues of income than before.
However there is some serious wrong-doing as well. I am told that people from Israel and Holland come on three month home stays here and are part of a huge drug racket. Some of these villagers grow cannabis in September and trade with these foreigners. They have a kind of base in Kasarghat. Gays as well. I saw a white man on the next hillock from where I stay. He comes and goes very quietly. I came across him as he was leaving the house. He have rented a small cottage on that hill.
I sat on the terrace in front of my room and at sundown saw many different species of jays, woodpeckers, barbets, tits, babblers and thrushes. This place is paradise. I have two days here and am I glad for it! The food is wholesome – roti and vegetable curry. Potato again.
5th April 2011 Tuesday.
It was a very cold night. I was covered in several layers of clothes and socks and gloves and a thick quilt with a hot water bottle underneath. I wore gloves for the first time. When the sun rose, it did not come this side of the mountain until 8am! Then, from the distant mountain, the brooding white phantom of Nanda Devi (7600mts) rose up in all its glory. I was as awe struck as before. I don’t know what it is that takes hold of you with such unshakeable grip! It was even more beautiful today than the first time.
My sister called and said there has been an earthquake of 5.4 magnitude on the Richter scale in these hills on the Nepal border (visible from Dalarh) last evening. Then I remembered feeling dizzy last evening on the walk around the village. The reported time was 5:02pm. The villagers here said they heard the utensils rattling on the shelves in the kitchen. What immense energy it must have released to make these huge mountains shudder!
This morning I took another route around the village and walked to the house farther from my cottage, and sat down in the sun on the terrace of this Pandit family to talk and share some little thoughts on life in the mountains. They are building a cottage with a fireplace for tourist home stay! Just what I loved! Played with a pup which is a cross of Dom and Baller mountain breeds. The dogs are big and furry with big flat heads. Resemble Retrievers. The master said he spotted a leopard almost daily at around 5pm, sitting on the branch of a tree overlooking his house. He has already carried their dog away just a few days back.
Had a delicious breakfast of aloo-gobi-methi ke pakode with mint chutney and curds and a lunch of yellow rice, kadi, aloo-layi ki sabzi and pulka. Now sitting on the terrace outside my room, in the breeze. Spent a lazy afternoon talking to the villagers. The Brits joined me. We will leave together for Supi tomorrow morning at 8am. We need to walk up to the road head to be picked up and taken to Supi by car – a five hour drive. Then a km of walking or rather climbing up rough hewn steps in the mountainside to the village.
6.04.2011
O my God! What a bad night! And a day even worse than the night!
I started feeling very uneasy in the stomach when I retired for the night. And because it was so cold, I was even more uneasy in the sleep. At three in the morning, I needed to go to the toilet. It was pitch dark outside and this is leopard time. I took my trekking stick and stepped out in the freezing cold and walked quickly round the building to the loo. Thereafter it was every 15 minutes. Very runny stomach. Perhaps it was the potatoes every day, three times a day, or the cold or something as simple as diet and weather change. Whatever it was, it just about killed me. I didn’t eat all day. Just took ADD 100 from my medical kit and in the afternoon, a banana.
I could not have travelled at all and had to cancel my Supi trip. The Brits went without me. The villagers were very solicitous. My guide made the salt and sugar water to stop dehydration, the women brought the banana. They took turns to sit by my side. I was able to sit up in the evening and the frequency eased a bit. Otherwise sickness always brings depression. Took a small walk to a groom’s house in the late afternoon. As I sat on the terrace in the evening, exhausted and in pain, I spotted a forest fire three ranges away – my first experience! It was a soft grey plume of smoke in a small area. Looked suspended in the air, unchanging. As it grew dark, I saw the blaze running along the mountains in a jagged line. I could still see it claiming increasingly bigger area very late in the night when I came out of the room. I had a tiny drop of khichdi for dinner and paced the 8 by10 ft room, since outside was very cold. I suddenly felt very claustrophobic. Decided ‘no more villages for me’, I am going back to Khali Estate tomorrow.
07.04.2011
Had a good night’s sleep and was ready to leave by 8am. After the mandatory photos and goodbyes, we walked two hours and a quarter to reach Khali. Felt very nice. Got my old cottage #13 which has the best view, had a bath and unpacked and repacked the bag, had a khichdi lunch n fell into the bed exhausted. I have missed Supi. I plan to go to Jageshwar, the site of Mrityunjaya Jyothir Linga, tomorrow if I feel up to it. More interested in the pristine forest around it. Also to see Almora on the way back. Its famous for Copper, wool and mithai.
Today again the manager of a small business was relating the story of how the Israelis have taken over the entire Kasarghat and Munsiari and how they just live here for up to a year at a time, marrying hill tribe girls and then taking them to Israel for a year or two, some times less. They then bring her back to Kumaon and leave her here. She can then be trafficked because she has lived with them and no decent family will marry her. Also, since most of them are drug addicts and peddlers and pretty open about it, she would probably have become an addict herself. How can she support that kind of lifestyle if not through prostitution? They have forced the farmers to cultivate marijuana. They have destroyed the hills. The villagers have protested with the collectors and the legislators but to no avail.
What a wonderful evening I had! I spent hours talking to the three local intellectuals. Great exchange of information, ideas on politics, economy, socialism, the fall of the left, corruption and last and the best, Urdu poetry, until ten in the cold, cold night. We all recited verses from Ghalib and Faiz and Iqbal. I shall leave on the 9th morning for Delhi and it will be one of the lovely things I shall remember about these hills.
08.04.2011
This morning the sunlit Nanda Devi range was an undescribable sight! The best view I’ve had so far.
I went to see Jageshwari. There are 125 Shiv Mandirs of all sizes and shapes from 8th and 9th centuries, within one complex; the biggest being the Mrityunjay Jyothir Ling. I did all the rituals the Pande wanted me to perform but I was stopped by my guide after the third one. The temple complex is surrounded by hundreds of years old Deodar [Cedar] trees. One was 8 mtrs in circumference. It is actually twin trees with the trunks merging from the ground up to 5mtrs height as the girth grew. There are other trees with three or even five trunks fused together. The latter is called the tree of the Pandavas. There is a stream flowing from below the temple complex, recharging the algae-lined temple tank and going on to become the Shivali river. It is choked with rubbish and plastic bags and bottles. It pained me to see the terrible upkeep of a precious heritage site and the sullying of the environment. Some of the deities made of Asht Dhatu [8 metal alloy] have been stolen and recovered and have been removed to a museum for security reasons. That museum was closed today. It was in bad condition as well – seeing from outside. But the stone Shivlings are ancient, the Nandis are worn out by being touched often by devotees– so worn out that they hardly have any discernable shape.
On the way back, we entered Almora. It is a working class town. The filthiest place I have ever seen, the bazaar area was the worst. I refused to disembark and we returned to Khali. It was on this return drive that I saw forest fires right by the road! It did not seem to disturb anyone. What’s up with us?
09.04.2011
Have been ready and rearing to go since early morning. Will start at noon. My last rendezvous with Nanda Devi’s snow capped peaks was picturesque.
I will go to Bhimtaal for tonight’s stay. It is three and half hours ride from Khali. Tomorrow morning is the Sampark Kranti train at 8:50am from Kathgodam. It is another hour’s drive from Nilesh Inn where I will be put up.
The hotel in Bheemtal was beautiful and my room was very well done up with a glass wall on the lake and a secluded balcony facing the mountains in the distance and the shimmering lake just below. I sat there until it was dark. I watch my first television news in more than a week and fought off sleep to look at the nightscape of mountains and lake from the bed. The general sense of peace and wonderment at the all pervading beauty of the hills stayed with me as I fell asleep.
10.04.2011
This was simply the most mortifying part of my travel. The long long six and half hours train journey from Kathgodam to Delhi trough filth and squalor and the sight of drug ravaged Israelis and street children on railway platforms was excruciatingly painful. A sheltered life does not quite prepare you for the encounter with ruthless and humiliating poverty.
11.04.2011
My overnight stay in the house of Harbans Singh was warm and comfortable. They embraced me like a member of their family. I was very tired and loathe to leave the bed. It was a nice time to sit in the living room and listen to HS’s interesting stories of his bureaucratic days – of Indira Gandhi and Manmohan Singh long before his rise in the political circles. Also of the other Harbans Singh, who was postmaster general of Hyderabad when I was little and Mummy called him Bhaiyya. Landing at Hyderabad airport, I was reluctant to be back. I want to be back in the hills.
15.04.2011
I got time to breathe now and reflect on the lessons learnt and insights received during the course of my journey through the mighty Himalayas.
There were two unfamiliar sensations – experiences actually: Absolute Darkness and Absolute Silence.
We never experience absolute darkness. But there in the mountains with dense forest all around and no electricity, once the fire used for making dinner is put out, there are no lights – not even distant ones. All light being block by the high mountains. If you are outdoors, the stars play with your fingers and get entangled in your hair! You can roll them in the sky or hold them in your fist. You are amongst them. When you go inside the cottage, the cold dictates that you shut every opening, every crevice. It is darker than the darkest imagination! You have no idea of the dimensions of your body or the relative distances from other objects because all contours dissolve in the liquid darkness.
Absolute Silence? I had no idea what that could possibly be. No cars, no sounds from the street, the TV, the neighbours, the mobile phones, the fans, fridges, pumps, doorbells, human chatter, music, stray dogs . . . . none of that! A complete, beautiful, solid Silence. And it was not at all like the momentary silences we experience rarely, where the sound of the previous moment and the anticipated sounds of the next moment both impinge on it. This silence of the mighty mountains is light and easy and natural. A friendly silence, not a scary one. There is no threat in it.
First and foremost, it was important to go it alone. The presence of any one else from my family or friends would have distracted me from engaging with and experiencing the environment with such deep involvement. Being by myself and bereft of any identity, I became just an anonymous entity. The place, the people, the close encounter with nature was of such absorption that I did not even miss the mirror. No power, no piped water, no paraphernalia of city life, was such a natural state of being that I did not yearn for any of it. Hyderabad and home had ceased to exist in my mind.
The utmost that you can plan ahead for, is the next step on a difficult mountain trail. It’s an existential problem. One foot in front of the other, sure and steady. No time for distractions, no time for contemplation. The forest keeps you mesmerised when you pause. But to pause is to delay reaching the next village – food and shelter from the cold and wild animals. So you follow the guide, a step at a time, not knowing what to expect at the end of the trail or how long you still need to walk to get there. you don’t even know how the trail will turn out to be – steep, narrow, dangerously perched on the cliff edge, ascending now, descending next, easy, wide or twisting. It is a road you’ve never travelled before, in a forest the like of which is not in your ken, on a mountain range that stretches beyond your imagination. You cannot locate the place even on a map. You have no choice but to trust the guide. You don’t know how you will be received at the next stop. You eat what is given to you, bathe and sleep where you are shown. The body is stretched to its physical limits. You sleep in deep slumber to wake up and trek again the next morning on another unknown trail to yet another unknown destination. That is the fascinating part – the completely unknown future.
That brings me to the most important insight: I have spent 54 years of my life striving to acquire that which I don’t need!!!!!
I don’t need the tangible assets – the furniture, the property, the money, the jewellery, all the gadgetry we surround ourselves with and think we cannot live without. I don’t need the intangibles either – the certificates, the diplomas, the list of ‘achievements’, the respectability, the honour, the pride, the relationships and their politics, the competition for resources, the fear of the unknown.
Life is not only possible but most beautiful when it is this basic.