In the Land of the Gods

It was this and that kind of a trip, right from the very beginning. To go or not to go, to go here and where else was the question, for a week or 2 weeks, or even … 3 weeks was another to ponder about. The trip in question is the one to the Himalayas, well … err, at least to get a good look at the Himalayas, yet again!

My friend was getting married. It is one of those mundane things right? Friends do get married, and very often at that, if you belong to a certain age group. But this wedding was a bit different. It was to be held in Manali and the invite did mention about a Himalaya darsan, although me feels it was inspired by a few queries of yours truly to the groom. A few words about the groom need mention here, to set the context. He is a Tibetan, belongs to the princely town of Sarahan in the foothills of the Kinnaur Himalayas. Tenzin is the name – a very common one, I was to realize later; and thanks to his mix of brain and brawn … read engineering and B-school background, likes to talk and think of issues from a Mt. Everest height (incidentally 30,000 feet!), and is fascinating to talk to. He likes reading history, philosophy and the latest intellectually challenging book that is the flavour of the season, and will regale you with interesting insights and stories.

Day 1: A day of near misses and tiresome journey

After some initial hitches on the planning front and expert advice from a friend who is passionate about travel, I booked my tickets. Despite some mumbo-jumbo from my friend on ‘points of failure’ I had booked my tickets on the Kalka Shatabdi to Chandigarh, counting on the fact that Rajdhani trains are usually not late – or at most by an hour. I was woken up by the ‘chai’ wala in the train at 5 AM and people were busy aligning and arranging their luggage for an easy exit, when the train came to a screeching halt. The consensus in our coupe was that the train was ‘before time’, which explained the slamming of the brakes. However, concern gave way to consternation when we all in our nearly asleep mode realized that the train had not budged an inch for over 30 minutes. Then the train moved at a snail’s pace and finally lumbered into H. Nizamuddin, late by more than 90 minutes. I had half a mind to try my luck – you never know the Shatabdi might be late in leaving the station! But then, a Punjabi taxi driver saved me additional procrastination by offering me a ‘deal’ – that I pay him Rs 350/- if and only if I board the train! A very simple thought, really! I thanked God almighty that I did not lose my presence of mind to reject the deal …!

Off then I went, to the ISBT bus station after the usual altercation with the pre-paid auto system in Delhi. I boarded the first bus leaving for Chandigarh, one of those rickety old buses which made good time in spite of having some technical faults and reached Chandigarh bus stand by 2.30 pm (more than 3 hours late compared to the Shatabdi!). Once again I was in a quandary – buses leaving between 3 – 5 pm would be reaching Manali at odd hours. Hence, as recommended by my friend, the groom, I decided to board the bus leaving Chandigarh at 8.30 pm. I utilized the 5 hours at my disposal, in refreshing some of the memories I had about the first truly well-planned city of post-independent India – Le Corbusier’s Chandigarh.

While strolling around the Sukhna lake (pictured here), there were quite a few interesting sights – the swans in the lake, the cycling coach giving instructions to his wards, the parties or treats by the lake etc. I had half a mind to revisit Nek Chand’s rock garden, but then gave it a go as I recollected vivid memories from my previous stop over at Chandigarh, six years back in time.

Back at the bus stand, the transport logistics let me down yet again – the 8.30 pm was late – nobody had a clue as to whether the bus will turn up at all – finally the bus left Chandigarh at 10.45 pm!

Day 2: The wedding

Incessant crying of a toddler seated a few rows back woke me up early in the morning. And yes, there she was, more beautiful than the last time I saw her. Her skin – luscious white and her voice – so sweet that it can soothe the frayed nerves of anyone. Well, before I end up fraying the nerves of a certain someone, let me clarify that the ‘she’ in question is the river Beas! Unlike the last time when my dear friend Himanshu woke me up and forced me to keep my eyes open to see the scenery from Mandi onwards (about 2 AM!), I had only the wailing kid for company this time! And then the stunning vistas came into view – the beautiful snow clad Himalayas revealed a glimpse of her ethereal beauty – a bit here and a bit there ….! There was much more snow on the mountains than what we got to see six years back. It was time to disembark and step on to Devbhumi Himachal. I got off the bus about 6 km this side of Manali and walked to a nearby shop that had a public telephone. When I enquired, the lady – the shopkeeper at that time of day probably – queried as to why I needed to make the call. On coming to know that I had come to the village to attend the wedding and was enquiring the way to the house, she suggested that I just walk straight ahead on the road and would automatically get to know (she also made the emphatic point that I should not waste the money on the call!). Yes, I was entering a world far away from the urban world of deceit and opportunism!

On entering the bride’s house, my friend the groom conveyed to me the happy news of the wedding ceremony having gotten over! Gosh! I had traveled more than 3,000 km right across the country and ended up missing the main ceremony by a few minutes! Yes, there are some things money just cannot buy …!

The tea tasted heavenly, along with the Tibetan snacks. I was taken to the groom’s room in the nearby hotel, where I freshened up and decided to walk back the distance (about half a km). I walked along the Manali – Chandigarh highway, by the riverside and the view of the Himalayas as well as the sound of the river made one forget everything, even the cold. I took part in some other ceremonies associated with the wedding – they were unearthing stones laid by the roadside – accompanied by chanting of Tibetan scriptures, with a few of the groom’s relatives rhythmically moving their steps in some sort of a half-dance. The wedding pandals were red in colour, and with the sun out, they painted a curious sort of maroonish hues over the seating place. I was introduced to quite a few relatives with curious sounding names – I was to realize later that the names were indicative of the relationships and were not their original names. So, my friend suggested that I be always with Shakpo (his brother-in-law) and Chewang – family friend. We decided to go to one of the natural hot water springs that they knew to be close by. Also accompanying us was Nono – the groom’s chubby and cute cousin. We went to this little house the backside of which had a tank. There was water flowing into the tank from a pipe that was coming out of the mountainside, and flowing out into a small stream onto the river Beas! The water was more hot than warm, but then once you got acclimatized to the temperature, it felt great. From the mini-pool there, bathed by the sun, one could see the mountains nearby covered in green – pine, elm and other coniferous trees, and also a reasonably close view of the Manali – Chandigarh highway too! I did not feel like coming out of the water there – we spent close to an hour in the hot water spring there (for Rs 20 per head).

We returned to find the bride’s family draped in tonnes of khatha the ceremonial scarf. I too had been presented with the scarf – it is a Tibetan tradition of welcoming people or of greeting/wishing a guest. There was a huge queue of guests for the wedding. I was also surprised to find that there was a stall/counter serving liquor at about 1 pm!

A white Maruti 800 had been decorated with colour papers – apparently hastily at about 1 am earlier that morning since the groom’s party had to take a detour thanks to the fact that river Sutlej had swallowed up a piece of National Highway (NH) 22, between Shimla and Rampur. This was Chewang’s car and we decided to take a brief sojourn to Manali town which was about 6 km away. Onlookers must have felt curious seeing 3 – 4 males roaming around in a wedding car! Manali town looked the same as it had 6 years back, except for the fact that vehicles were not permitted in the mall road! I did walk up to the sign board that gave the distances to Hidimba Devi Temple and Rohtang Pass – it was with a tinge of nostalgia that I walked the mall road as last time round, we had taken bikes till Rohtang Pass on what was a memorable trip.

The ceremony of guests offering their blessings was still on at the venue of the wedding. What intrigued me was that the bride and the groom were nowhere to be seen – later on, I came to realize that they were being kept busy by the photographer who did an elaborate session lasting 2 – 3 hours with them!

So we moved onto another pandal that was the eating area. This was by the banks of the river – the seating was on carpets/mats on the ground and I found that it is not that difficult to sit on the ground with one’s footwear on. The lunch was very different to what I have ever had in any wedding. There was rice – steaming hot, and a variety of vegetarian curries – dal makhani, paneer mutter, kadi etc and each of these servings were a course! And the end of it all, we had a sampling of sweet rice – the feast was prepared and served by pandits and it was a different experience altogether – watching rice being served by hand.

I was delighted to be invited by Chewang and Shakpo to join them in a drive to one of the monasteries nearby to visit Chewang’s cousin who was a lama there. Buddhism is a religion that has intrigued me a lot. Nostalgia makes me write that the second half of that memorable trip six years ago was to Dharamsala and McLeodgunj. The Tibetan Buddhist monks debating their scriptures at the monastery there was an unforgettable experience. We were off to the monastery, about 15 km, with Chewang at the wheel of the baraati Maruti 800! I was over awed by Chewang’s phenomenal driving skills, he was negotiating the sharp curves on the kachha/mud roads at speeds of about 30 – 40 kmph in the 3^rd gear to save on the fuel which he suspected would barely be sufficient to take us back! We reached the monastery, nestled in the valley of the Beas River and found that the lama was not there. We took a round of the beautiful monastery, where quite a huge gathering of monks were being taught the Buddhist scriptures. After waiting for a while, Chewang finally established contact with another of his cousins who was also there in the monastery. We were invited into her dwelling – it looked really beautiful. The floor and most of the furniture as also the panels on the wall were all made of deodhar wood, polished to a wonderful shine (in photo with 'Shakpo' below). From here, one could get an excellent view of the foothills of the Himalayas. We had the heavenly tasting tea with some Good Day biscuits. I had to give the tasty looking Momos a go by, as they were non-vegetarian. Later on, the lama too came and took us to his similar looking apartment and then onto the terrace. The view of the snow clad Himalayas from here was exhilarating. We took another round of the monastery, this time with the lama who also took as to the study/prayer room – the polished wooden furnishings looked out of the world there; lit the prayer lamps (as we did at the Dalai Lama monastery in McLeodgunj), took in the scenery and the serenity for quite some time and returned. I was struggling to capture the golden hues painted on the snow clad

peaks by the setting sun. Once again, Chewang amazed me with his driving skills and we managed to reach the bride’s home at about 7 pm. I realized later that en route to the petrol pump, the car tyre had got a puncture and that we would have run out of fuel had the distance been a couple of kilometers more! So, Chewang’s strategy of driving in the 3^rd gear for most of the trip at high speeds prevented us from being stranded in the middle of nowhere and that too in the dark!

The band had started playing, and I got my first glimpse of the Kinnauri song and dance. It was simply mind blowing. People, irrespective of age and gender were celebrating the wedding, dancing those small little Kinnauri steps around in a huge circle. And yes, there was booze (in fact, the stalls serving ‘hot’ drinks were busy right from 11 AM!) flowing and I was at a loss of words of the way the drinks flowed, again irrespective of age and gender! The bride and groom were seated along with a few of the bride’s friends. By the way, did I mention that I had not got a glimpse of bhabi yet, she was hiding her face behind the goonghat all this while! And then the demand that I dreaded, was made, and that too by bhabi’s friends. There request was simple, that I, the only friend of the groom, should join in the dance! Tenzin told me that I could teach them all the Kerala style of dance, not knowing that I had two left feet when it came to dance. But then, dance I had to, there was no option. Thanks to Tsephil (that is how I will spell Tenzin’s brother’s name!), who let me in on the secret behind those simple steps, I did manage. In the sense, that I did not trip and fall myself, neither did I impede the progress of others in their celebration of Tenzin Thargay wedding Tenzin Dolma (I realized that Tsering and Tenzin meant the same, subsequently). And yes, those little steps went a long way in ensuring that I was reasonably protected from the cold outside, given the insufficient winter clothing I had carried along. After a while, I stepped out of the dancing circle to capture on camera the involuntary dance steps that an infant boy (he looked so cute, that I just wanted to grab him into my arms) was taking, dressed in full Kinnauri costume, with the traditional Kinnauri cap too!

Tsephil gave me company for dinner. Thukpa (Dumplings of flour and vegetables served in a soup) was served, vegetarian thukpa for me. And that was it; Tsephil was done with his dinner! But then, I had dal chawal too and then Tsephil dropped me at the hotel that I had been to in the morning for freshening up. The hotel was a mix of suprises and disappointments. The wooden furniture and get up was impressive, but then, shoddy lighting and lack of hygiene orientation left an impression that the hotel was falling into bad times. The large room I was asked to occupy had beds and decoration reminiscent of scenes from ‘those’ songs in the Hindi movies of the 70s, with a maroon curtain of small lengthy bead –like material and satin/velvety sheets. By the way, there was another double bed at the other end of the room too! A couple of elderly ladies from the bride’s side supplied fresh/clean blankets. Tenzin’s chachaji was enquiring with me as to whether I had any problems with Ajo Thargay sharing the bed (later on I realized that Ajo probably referred to the ‘eldest one’). Given that I was sleeping on stationary ground after 3 days of constant travel, I fell into deep slumber immediately. When I woke up, I found my dear friend Tenzin lying next to me! He woke up and posed the question so characteristic of him … “Enda maashe” meaning “How are you doing, sir?”! I was stumped as to why the bride groom was sleeping in the hotel, but then I learnt that it is part of the tradition there! Tenzin cautioned me to be with a few key people so that I am not forgotten to be counted in the groom’s entourage leaving Manali kalath that morning. And yes, we did take a few photos early in the morning there and had the cars washed in a small rivulet running by the road (they had pipe hoses drawn out from the rivulet to enable passers by to wash their cars, for free!). Tenzin did pick on my advice to check on his wife, given that it would be an emotional roller-coaster ride that she would be going through (yes, experience counts!).

Day 3: The homecoming

After a breakfast of bread toast and chai, we were preparing to leave for Sarahan (the groom’s place). It was an emotional scene there, the teary eyed and wailing bride being carried on the shoulders of her brother into the waiting car (yes, the same white Maruti 800 with Chewang at the wheel), with celebrations – band, song and dance from the groom’s side. We were off – a convoy of about 20 vehicles in all! The ladies and a few boys danced for about a kilometer before Shakpo’s mother had a small prayer done with brandy/whiskey to propitiate the spirits!

There was a 3.5 km long tunnel that we had to negotiate and then we took a diversion towards Jillori Pass (Jillori Joth as they refer to in these parts). Suffice to say that I have never traveled on such a road, ever. Huge stones that must have crash landed as part of some landslide or the other constituted major chunks of the road. We (the convoy of about 20 vehicles) drove on and halted for tea at Jillori Pass. The scenery was splendid – there were all those snow clad mountains in the distance. How I wished I was a bird who could get a bird’s eye view of the splendid view unfolding. My little reverie was disturbed by the now familiar tunes of the band playing Kinnauri tunes. I was astonished to see the entire group break into the Kinnauri dance right there. The on road celebrations were brought to an abrupt halt by a drizzle that after an initial stop-start decided to change itself into a hail.

We stopped a little while later for lunch. We had a sumptuous lunch of rice and dal curry that had been packed from Manali itself and was reheated by the roadside! Tenzin did a commendable thing by personally setting an example of collecting the garbage of used paper plates strewn around. Although I too had observed with pain that everyone was throwing out the used plates (for want of a better means of garbage disposal), in the process dirtying the verdant environment, I stood helpless. Tenzin demonstrated what leadership is all about!

Late in the day as we approached Rampur, I realized the size and might of the Sutlej. After some delay (a lorry had got stuck in the mud following a landslide a few minutes earlier!), we were finally on the NH-22, going towards Rampur. One could see more than half of the highway filled with huge boulders at many places, as a consequence of landslides that keep happening throughout the year. After giving a hand … unsuccessfully at that let me add, at pushing one of the stalled vehicles of the convoy to action, all the vehicles took a deviation onto a bridge over the Sutlej just before we reached Rampur Bushahr. Reason? A few portions of the highway just ahead and fallen off, which meant that one, had to cross about 500 metres on foot and take another mode of conveyance. Sutlej at night is a sight or rather a sound to behold! It’s turbulent currents make a roar – and I was not surprised when Tsephil (Tenzin’s brother) told me that Sutlej is the most turbulent river in Asia. The other option was to take the “project road” as they say in these parts – the project in reference being the Nathpa Jhakri power project. Well, the project road in essence is a mud track, barely 3 – 4 metres wide. And the road looks like it travels to the bowels of the earth before emerging out. And here is where we ran into a problem. Apparently, permission from the project had to be obtained in advance for allowing access to these roads at night, given the risks involved in negotiating those curves in the dark. The irony however is that, one is allowed access to the roads and the vehicles are blocked as one emerges onto the highway, for onward journey. Given that we were baraatis in a convoy of 20 vehicles, and the fact that some of the people in these vehicles were from the army/paramilitary, we were hopeful of getting the necessary permission. However, it was not before an emotional speech/argument (and very righteously so … how people in these parts help project teams/government on the basis of trust and how ungracious the system/state is when it comes to giving it back) by Tsephil and Tenzin. Finally, we were given the go ahead and we proceeded to reach Sarahan (town this side of the Sutlej above Rampur) around 11.30 at night!

But then, the night was still young, according to the elders in the marriage party! That’s why they wanted the Lama to come with us in the first car to reach the groom’s house – the rest of the convoy, especially Chewang’s Maruti 800 slowly made it’s way with all pomp and glory of the band and the youngsters who were still enthused to dance, in the bitter chill outside. Finally, the baraat car arrived at 12.30 AM. In the intervening period, I was introduced to Tenzin’s parents (they had stayed behind to take care of the wedding reception arrangements, wedding being a community affair rather than a family one!). Tenzin’s mom in the midst of all the hustle of getting the arrangements done for the welcome of her son, noticed that I was under-dressed for the temperature there and offered me jackets/woolen clothing. Although I was shivering inside, I did not want to trouble her then. Finally, I managed to take out my sweater from the baggage van that made up the rear end of the convoy. After some ceremony that further aroused my curiosity with respect to the grihapravesham (whiskey was used to probably invoke the good ‘spirits!), I was getting ready to hit the bed, after a day of endless travel. But then, to my horror, I realized that the celebrations were just beginning (and the time was 1 AM!). There was the band playing (yes, the same one!), people beginning to get into rhythm for the traditional dance, and dinner was being served. After having the dinner of roti, dal and chawal, a few of us were allotted a room in the sprawling mansion that is Tenzin’s home (the joint family lives there). Chewang, Shakpo, a cousin of Tenzin and I fell asleep as soon as we hit the bed, unmindful of the music blaring out loud.

Day 4: The temple and celebrations

Waking up, and after the usual morning routine, I stepped out and was simply stunned. Walking a few paces, I came across breathtaking scenery – view of the snow clad Shrikhand peaks! After breakfast, a few of us piled in two cars to visit the Bhimakali temple. The temple, made of wood stood supreme amidst the wonderful scenery. After paying obeisance to Maa Bhimakali, we kept our cameras busy for quite some time, taking a variety of group and landscape pictures. The temple and the place have their linkages in history with the royal clan of Rampur Bushahr. Shakpo and Chewang decided to treat me to vegetarian momos that I had missed out earlier. We had a sumptuous snack (almost a meal there!) that included chowmein (incredibly popular in these parts) and also bottled water bearing the brand name ‘Rohtang Pass’!

We returned in time for the khatha ceremony. I met up with Tenzin and bhabhi for the first time – they made a good, happy couple. At the ceremony, I noticed huge cartons which I realized contained various brands of ‘hot’ drinks. I guess historically, the reasons could be linked to the extreme harsh temperatures that the tribes would have got exposed to. But, in these times, it is supposedly a token of gratitude and affection reposed by the guests towards the family who regaled them with food and drinks all this while. The name, relation and value of token/gift of each guest is read out loud on microphone and the assembly is requested to appreciate the same with applause. The function went on for quite a few hours, spanning lunch and tea in the evening. Throughout the day, I was trying to figure out my plans for the following couple of days – and firmed up a plan based on inputs, primarily from Chewang (pictured here).

Darkness fell to the accompaniment of music – and loads of people swaying in step to Kinnauri songs. This time though, Tenzin and bhabhi had to perform – and they were impressive, to say the least. I had the fortune of being taught a few kid steps by Tenzin when the entire family resumed dancing! Amidst all this, I was worried about my bag – the zip had lost alignment and I was not able to close/open my main piece of baggage. Tenzin requested one of his chachajis to have a look. He was simply superb – he managed to resolve it with a pair of pliers in less than no time.

Day 5: The journey to the furthest destination!

I woke up early in the morning, bade good bye to everyone I knew – Tenzin’s parents, Shakpo and many others – they were all fantastic hosts (Chewang I could not see as he had returned to work in his shop, I guess). I got dropped off at Jeori in one of the cars that were returning with a few guests who had come down for the wedding. And then, here on, I was to travel alone.

I boarded one of the Sumos that came by; the other person to board there was a lady, who had European features. The scenery that unfolded was simply superb – Sutlej river cutting a huge valley, flowing in a vortex of torrents in some places and in a languid fashion at others. The languidness I came to realize was on account of the mega hydro projects where Sutlej is tamed to flow through tunnels and made to rejoin it’s original course a few kilometers downstream. The largest hydel project of Kerala – Idukki (780 MW) would pale in comparison to the multiple 1000 MW plus projects of the Sutlej valley. Thanks to the window seat, I managed to capture a few stunning visages of the mighty Sutlej valley. I started conversing with the foreigner on being prodded by the driver who enquired if she needed a toilet break, as she had asked him to stop a while back (to my incredulous query of ‘where here’, his reply was ‘anywhere!’). We started conversing. Although I have had my fair share of interesting/strange conversations, this one was a bit different. She apparently owned this agency that organized Buddhist tours for Dutch people! She was on a recce of Indian Buddhist monasteries (specifically Tabo in Lahaul/Spiti) since she did not have access to the Tibetan side this time on account of tighter norms due to the Beijing Olympics this year. By the way, she also told me as to how she divides time between Netherlands and Tibet – and was forced to meet up with her Tibetan boyfriend to Singapore/Hong Kong, since she could not travel to Tibet this year!

I got off at Karcham, since I was headed for Sangla whereas the Sumo had Rekong Peo (district headquarters of Kinnaur) as its destination. Boarded another Sumo to Sangla – the snow clad peaks appeared to zoom in as we progressed on this short climb, keeping our tryst with the river Baspa. We reached the beautiful hamlet of Sangla (picture on the right). It could have been a village up in the Swiss Alps, but for the missing beautiful chalets! After enquiring for accommodation at the PWD guest house, I decided to travel further, to the last motor able town this side of Tibet – Chitkul! I ensured that I got a window seat in the last bus of the day for Chitkul, leaving Sangla at about 1 pm! I was in for a treat … the beautiful landscape unwinded at each turn or curve. It was almost like the enchantress looking more alluring with every shot while trying to seduce the hero of any Holly/Bollywood horror flick. You could peer into the glaciers that coated the cleavages of the snowy mountains. Or wonder in amazement at the cartons of Kinnaur apple stacked by the roadside as the bus driver managed to negotiate a 3 point turn after ensuring that a few passengers reached their destination a few kilometers down from the road that led to Chitkul. Chitkul had this look and feel of being the last post of civilization encircled by huge snow clad peaks, and the Baspa flowing serenely down below. I enquired with the PWD guest house for accommodation and was told that I would get a clearer picture of availability only by 5 pm or so (any government employees staying back would automatically mean that I would have to stay somewhere else!). The road sign outside the guest house indicated the heights of various places in Kinnaur – Chitkul was was 3450 meters above sea level, the highest among all places in Kinnaur! The chowkidar promised me that nothing would happen to my luggage if I left it there and went roaming around to return by 5 pm. After all, Kinnaur (the land of the Gods) is said to belong to people who are halfway between man and God – Kinnauris are well known for their honesty and down to earth qualities as well as for their simple lifestyle. Would I even have dared to take this risk at any other place – leaving my baggage at someone’s disposal without any proof!? I decided to roam around – the scenic landscape quickening my pace to take it all in. I moved towards the Baspa, passing the government high school – yes, they do have one here, although the population of the village was 610 as was displayed by the board at the bus stand. There were a couple of ladies busy with their lady chores of drying grass in the bright sun, and there were a few villagers trudging along the walkway leading to the nether land of snow clad mountains and beyond. After collecting a few pebbles of varying shapes, sizes and colours and dipping my hands into the waters of Baspa only to hastily beating a retreat realizing that it was too cold, I lazed around. I met a couple from Assam who revealed to me the reason they took to traveling - an interest in exploring the beauty the world has to offer, on realizing that life is fleeting; hence to better make the most of it – at least once a year, from the time they have had to recover from four bereavements in the immediate family – one in each year.

And then it happened. I was busy taking the photos of a couple of cute kids and an old lady when this guy approached me – he had a crooked nose besides typical Mongol features and he asked to follow him to the market place. There were a few ITBP (Indo Tibetan Border Police) soldiers taking in the sun. He asked me to join in the gup shup and requested one of the soldiers to make tea for me, which he promptly refused! They were a couple of soldiers posted nearby Chitkul and had come to town to get in touch with their dear ones over phone (the only shop that had one was closed for the day!). After introducing myself, we got engaged in a lengthy conversation where we covered a lot of issues – dreariness of postings in forlorn places like the Tibetan border about 50 kms away from Chitkul (supplies and travel on foot!), trekking the Himalayan passes (apparently they have trails directly to Gangotri from beyond Chitkul – a 3 – 4 day trip for the trekker who doubled up as a railway canteen wala in one of the Rajdhani trains during off season; 7 – 8 days for lesser mortals like us!), Kashmir problem – “insurgency is primarily on account of assured safety for family and good money the militants make for 4 – 5 years before they surrender” etc. The man who brought me here took little gulps from a bottle of liquor hidden inside his pants while the conversation went on and he became curious of the pebbles/stones I had collected from the river. He said that he had better ones in his dwelling and took me with him (I simply could not refuse, no idea why!). It was a very small, single room hut he took me to. He insisted that he would make me tea there – he did not take ‘No’ for an answer! While the water was boiling, he went to a corner and brought out his most precious possessions – a few photographs of his taken by foreign tourists who had mailed it to him, a few pebbles, and some scraps of paper! Apparently, our man has been despondent ever since his parents passed away and has been drinking himself to death, by his own admission. I did have tea and took his snap which he wanted sent to him (probably for him to proudly display this new addition to his precious collection, sent by his dear friend!).

I got back to the guest house and found it locked. The chowkidar had waved to me earlier in the day, indicating that he would be back from the farms (a few kilometers down!) later in the evening. I was told of the possibility of being able to capture the signals of a particular mobile phone service provider a little away from the town. I was pleasantly surprised when it indeed did work. Here I was almost in the middle of nowhere and was speaking over phone – script for an ad agency, I guess!

It was getting a wee bit too cold for my inadequate winter clothes and I was very happy to notice the open door at the guest house. But then, the setting sun began to paint the colours of the mountains a different hue every passing minute. How much of it can one capture on the camera, can there be any substitute to the naked eye?! The chowkidar was kind enough to lend me one of his woolen shawls and also let me use the room heater for the night! I was astounded by the night sky – one would never believe that there are so many stars up there!

Day 6: In awe of the Kinner

I woke up early in the morning to capture the splendid view of the mountains in the twilight of dawn. After an early morning bath, I was ready in time to take the first bus leaving town for Rekong Peo at 6.30 in the morning. There were a lot of women folk about to begin another day by traveling to nearby towns or Sangla. I picked up a window seat and tried to capture the rugged but alluring faces of a few of the village women. There was this particularly incredibly innocuous looking girl – her shyness and matter of fact style added to her beauty!

The bus journey was otherwise uneventful except for a break at a baba’s temple where he entered the bus and anointed tilak to the faces of one and all and offered prasad of dry fruits.

Rekong Peo (referred to as Peo) is a bustling town with wonderful views of the snow clad peaks of Kinner Kailash. I tried finding accommodation at the PWD Guest House, but was asked to wait for the chowkidar to return. While I was making my enquiries, a group of kids were having a whale of a time outside. Closer observation revealed the source of their merry making – my trolley bag! They were absolutely delighted to pull my bag along on its wheels as they ran hither thither! I used the opportunity of taking a few snaps – the little cute own amongst them had a wonderful expression all the while, except when I tried to take a snap of him – when he used to break into a cry. On realizing that I would not be having any luck with accommodation there, I trundled along in search of a good view of the shiv ling atop the Kinner Kailash Mountains. An ex-serviceman helped me spot “Bhola nath ji” as he explained to me the rock formation atop the peak that apparently changed colours with the passage of the day.

I had to endure a long wait at the Peo bus stand for transport to Kalpa (about 12 kms from Peo). Finally, a bus came along that was nearly full. Kalpa was apparently the head quarters of Kinnaur district before Peo was developed subsequently. Kalpa, I realized was a much smaller town. I got off at the end of the journey that looked like it came to an abrupt halt (but that was the farthest the bus would go) and took to my by now customary routine of searching for any guest house. But then, I ended up getting distracted, pleasantly at that! The apple orchards were in full bloom (unlike Sarahan where the crop had already been harvested). It was a sight to behold and suddenly I developed the urge of plucking an apple from the tree! I enquired and was told that I would get beaten up if the orchard owners got to know. So, I walked into the house nestled in the orchard and requested permission to pluck a green and a red apple, which they were only happy to consent! Wow, such magnanimous people! I promptly plucked one – and even got a hawker to take a photo of me doing just that – as proof, in case there are disbelievers!

I walked back and was not in the mood to search for accommodation. Hence, I promptly walked into the first hotel I came by and was immediately allotted a room. To my astonishment, I realized that the view of the Kinner Kailash mountain range was absolutely stunning, from here! I could have my gaze fixed on the mountain directly from the bed. Apple and Pear trees in the orchard nearby were in full bloom. I got busy with the camera to capture what little I could of the splendid scenery. The shiv ling shaped rock could be seen very clearly in the distance – and yes, it did appear to change colours with the passage of overhead clouds and the sun during the course of the day. The evening was spent in visits to a couple of temples and the market nearby. Kalidasa’s treatise Vasudeiva Kutumbakam (does it translate to world being one true global village?!) was proved true when I came across this British-Spanish couple who were on their honeymoon here! The shopkeeper boy in one of the shops invited me in for a chat and offered me tea (free of cost!). By then, it was time for the mystical light show created by the ‘hide and seek’ game of the sun, clouds and the mountains. I could never have imagined so many shades of the colour pink, or was it red, no … it could have been orange …! Suffice to say that I have never seen a better view of the mighty Himalayas bathed in the magical lights of sunset!

Day 7: Oh No! The return!

Another early morning wake up ensured that I did not miss the remainder of the twilight story. Kinner Kailash as a silhouette was a sight to behold. I vacated the hotel, in time to catch the early morning bus to Shimla. The enterprising bus conductor regaled the motley crowd in the bus with his glib talk. I was busy enjoying the splendid scenery (obviously from my window seat perch!). We reached Peo and the rays of the sun piercing through the mountain peaks greeted us at the bus stand there. The return journey was quite uneventful except for the sing-song tone of a sprightly looking infant (even his mother was proudly enjoying the “Mammaji, … eh Bhagwan” and other utterances of this tiny tot). By the way, my assessment of traveling to the bowels of the earth was proved right when I saw a board of the Nathpa Jhakri power project proudly proclaiming that the Sutlej valley there has the deepest surge shaft in the world! We reached Shimla by 6.30 evening, having stopped by at Narkhanda for tea. I was pleasantly surprised to be recognized by Shakpo’s sister who ran the café at Narkhanda that I walked into. I also noticed the beautiful resort that had been suggested by my friend, at Fagu en route Shimla (Fagu, a dialectical variant of ‘foggy’, incidentally was the only place in the entire journey where I encountered fog!).

After all the splendid views of Kinnaur valley, Shimla was beginning to feel like a disappointment, but then this was only a transit point for me. I checked into a shady hotel – as hotels located near the bus stands usually are, in most parts of India. Although I had been warned by my friend of a steep climb, equivalent to 30 minutes of the most strenuous exercise routine in a gym, I decided to give a shot at climbing up to the Ridge, the happening place in Shimla. Yes, it was indeed a climb that sucked the breath out of the lungs! The Ridge was indeed beautiful, enveloped by fog. The stony buildings of the library and town hall serving as standing sentinels of a hoary past of this town (or city!?) as the erstwhile summer capital of the British empire in India. I do not know why, but then I chose to have dinner at the India Coffee House there. The unhappiness or was it indifference, of the waiters was writ large on their faces as they went through their daily motions – or maybe it was a busy day for them. I walked back to the hotel for a good night of rest after a bumpy and tiresome journey through the day.

Day 8: Good bye, mountains!

Another early morning routine and I boarded a bus bound for Delhi at 6.30 in the morning (3^rd consecutive day of 6.30 am bus journey!). And for the first time in the entire journey, I had this nauseating feeling on the descent to the plains from Shimla. A couple of Punjabi kudis sitting across probably served as a good distraction and thus restrained me from throwing up even as a bulky looking chap was vomiting his lungs out behind me! The rest of the journey was quite uneventful, and I reached Delhi by about 4.30 in the evening, thus ending the first phase of this amazing journey to Devbhumi Himachal!

Click here for pictures of the journey.