Sunday, December 6, 2015
Thursday, November 26, 2015
A Happy B'dy with strangers up hills Part 1
It is a journey to
your own self rather than a place when you travel alone. Realisation dooms up
on oneself that life is not as lonely as it looks like, but there are a zillion
options out there, one has to have the willingness to embrace it.
A Sojourn
To Gushaini
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| On the way to Aut |
There
is no need to shell out much of your hard earned money for a trip
to Gushaini. All you need to know is few information about local bus
timings and a willingness to ask local people about the bus timings. Its as
cheap as some 10 rupees to 15 rupees in local buses.
How To Reach: Take any bus
to Manali from Kahmere Gate, Delhi. Get down at Aut. Catch another bus to
Banjar from Aut. Local buses are available from Banjar to Gushaini.
I
had a wish on this day which still reminds me of years of existence on this
Planet Earth. It was special to me and all I wanted was to be left alone. 7
days off from newsroom was bliss, but I kept wondering where to go! I wanted to
keep moving and never to stop. A craving desire to escape from ghosts of the
past.
Gushaini is
a beautiful village all decked up with bright greens, yellows and reds.
Travelling off season is a treat in itself, especially to a place like Thirthan
Valley. The otherwise hustle and bustle of the developing tourist spot was
absent. Winters were still far but the chill has begun to creep in. Pleasant
days and cold nights. Trout fishing is prohibited during the month of November.
So there were no adventurous activities, trekking, trout fishing or any other
acrobatics of that sort!
The
serpentine path to the Forest Guest House was filled with strange eeriness. A
small village boy showed me the way to FRH as it was located above the Thirthan
river in a very secluded place. I was surprised at his spontaneous answer when
I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up. “Mujhe Army join karna hai”!
Young lads vying to give up their lives for the country, he even had few army
stories from his uncle to recite for me.
The
silence here is deafening. Even the cool breeze dare not to disturb a single
multi coloured leaf in trees. The chilling breeze gave me silent goose bumps. I
dared not to think of my existence. There is nothing more exciting than a
morning walk to the Thirthan River at six, with the music of chirping crickets
and a soothing cool breeze. Across the river, I could see the famous Raju’s
Guest House. Raju’s dogs came running to the other side of the river marking
their protest at my foreign presence. Cute little feathered birds chirped away
to glory as they plucked seeds and fruits from surrounding trees.
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| FRH |
 |
| Meandering way to FRH |
The
sparkling thirthan river! The ever flowing river was crystal clear that I could
count the pebbles deep underwater. The river had no secrets. All you need is
the willingness to peep through and the realisation dooms upon you that it is
only the clarity which matters and the rest will flow in. The all powerful,
mighty river but at the same time calm and overpowering. May be if there is a
rebirth I wouldn't mind being born as a river...
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| My sole companion |
 |
| Thirthan River |
 |
| FRH |
A House that holds
100 years’ secrets: Ballu Home Stay
How to Reach: Take any bus
to Dharamshala from Mandi and get down in Sheila Chowk. Then take a cab
straight to the Ballu Homestay.
Things
fall apart in an unplanned trip but there is always a way out. You just need to
look around.
 |
| Ballu Home Stay |
When
I boarded a local bus to Mandi from Aut I barely had any idea that I will be
stuck for the day. As per the Google God’s knowledge it is only 3 to 4 hours
drive from Mandi to Dharamsala. I added an hour more from my part. But to my
shock there were no buses available until 4 pm and its scheduled arrival at
Dharamsala was around half past nine. I had no other option but to stay
overnight in Dharamsala but the million dollar question was “Where!” I did not
want to be holed up inside four walls of a hotel room. The FRH was full because
there was some athletic meet going on.
Then
I stumbled up on the Ballu Home Stay as I was browsing through options for a
Home Stay. Not wasting time I called in the number given in the website. No
luck! Nobody answered the call! At times its hard not to believe that there is
something called destiny and the life has all been scripted and we are just
mere players. So the owner of the Ballu Home Stay called me back in few
minutes. Krishna Prasad, who calls himself Kaypee. Bingo! So they did have
rooms and I finally got a place to stay.
I
reached Ballu at 10 pm. I couldn't figure out much about the house as it was
pitch black at night. It was a simple old fashioned mud house with thick walls;
when I say thick, imagine at least 4 times the thickness of normal concrete
walls that we generally find.
A
traditional brass oil lamp was hung in front of the house but I could see that
it has not been lit up since a long time. Still the tarnished blackened oil
lamp took me down the memory lane, being born in a land of folk tales draped in
Hindu mythology and tradition. Kaypee’s two cute dogies lingered around coming
into terms with a new stranger in their territory.
There
are no beds in Ballu, but a thick mattress on the muddy floor with blankets.
Everything there had an old fashioned elegance. I was delighted to see the
antique push button switches all over the house, a piece of antiquity that I
have seen only in my dad’s ancestral home. I played around with that tiny
little piece of wonder and all my childhood memories rushed back when I used to
do the same at my granny’s place. I slept peacefully for the day planing to
leave at the earliest next day.
I
woke up early in the morning to the pristine music of the river. For me it was
like a mini Kerala; lushful greens, a river and a traditional house far away
from the maddening crowd. Fresh potties welcome you to the river. For villagers
in Sheila Chowk PM’s ‘Har Ghar Shauchalaya’ was still a distant dream. I could
see embarrassed young guys and girls chuckling away as I encroached their space
early in the morning. A little girl was fascinated by the fact that I came from
Delhi to stay in a mud hut in their village. She said they never got any grants
from the government for constructing toilets at their houses. She sat with me
for some time on the rock simply gazing the river. She left reluctantly saying
she had to get ready for school but promising to meet me later in the evening.
It
was a lazy day. I decided to stay back for one more night at Ballu. I didn't feel
like leaving that double storyed mud house which holds over a hundred years’
secrets. One of the two houses in Dharamsala that survived the devastating
earthquake in Kangra valley in 1905. According to Wikipedia it was a powerful
quake which marked 7.8 magnitude in the Richter scale. Over 20,000 people were
killed and almost all the buildings were destroyed. The walls seemed eager to
narrate a zillion stories; only if the walls could speak apart from making
strange contours. It had the hand prints of so many lives. A
small window in the balcony opened up to the river. It was an open house with
no main doors, front doors or back doors. Only the rooms had proper doors which
one could latch. Still I slept peacefully at night in that house with no locks.
The House also has a pooja room, which was lockedup. Kaypee told me that it is a restricted place and only men from the family are allowed. My desire to embrace the unknown gods and goddesses in that room never came true. I loitered in the verandah ruminating my childhood days back at my ancestral place.
I had an itching desire to light the brass lamp which was hung right in front of my room. Pet dogs Kurumbi and Leela were loitering around watching out for strangers. Kaypee was making breakfast in his open kitchen. He had a wonderful collection of books. I could stay in that house doing nothing but devouring all those classics sitting on the banks of river in the day and counting starts at night.
- to be continued
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| River behind Ballu |
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| The House that holds 100 years' secrets |
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| Leela |
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| The House that holds 100 years' secrets |
Wednesday, November 25, 2015
Friday, October 2, 2015
Sunday, September 13, 2015
Saturday, June 27, 2015
BIR BILLING - A TRYST WITH SNOW
It snows day and night; all for me; all for you and all for the silence that unite us...
After a tiring overnight journey from Khajjiar in the bus, we reached Baijnath early in the morning at five. Baijnath is a small town in the Kangra district of Himachal Pradesh. Sonu, my trekking guide had already sent the cab to pick us. An early morning drizzle is all that one need to freshen up from a tiring sleepless night in the Himachal transport.
Sonu advised us to wait till the rain stops as it was impossible to drive up to Billing in the morning. We checked into a nearby hotel to freshen up. We even took a short nap before we could explore chances of paragliding in Billing. Bir Billing falls under the Dauladar mountain range and is one of the best aero sports sites in the world.
I woke up from my dream flying high up in the sky only to hit harsh reality that it was still raining cats and dogs. My ‘flying dreams’ were all washed away in rains!
But “when you want something, the entire universe conspires in helping you to achieve it”. I was not ready to give up. I persuaded Sonu that I was ready to take the risk of going up. We could at least trek to Billing. Sonu finally relented but under one condition. All risk is yours as he said it is snowing heavy up in the mountains. I gave him a thumbs up even though I had a premonition that something bad is in store for us. The unknown is like a double edged sword. Enchanting at the same time it evokes the dark fear in one's self which is beyond the control of human psyche.
So here we go with our backpacks all set for an overnight stay uphill if we are not able to make it down to the valley on the same day evening. We started at noon but I couldn't even see any sign of the Sun.
 |
| View from the top of Billing |
 |
| Silence after the snowfall |
Panting heavily, we climbed the hill with all our strength; as the fresh dry snow rained on us... It was relatively a short distance of less than 10 kms. But we felt like eternity. We were trekking in snow for the first time.
Finally we saw the board of Billing. It was written 2,400 meters above sea level. We could see shepherd huts at the top. Sonu opened his friend's shop on the top and made a fire. All flocked around the fire warming numb hands and feet. It was indeed a relief. Snow and heavy winds refused to die down. Sonu's friend offered to make us maggie and omelets. As we sat there gorging upon the maggi, Sonu proudly showed me a tattered foreign travel magazine. Some writer had featured their paragliding stories in it. I saw Sonu's picture in one of the dog eared pages. He couldn't stop talking about his paragliding life. I wondered how a glider's life would be. Flying up above everyday loosening up one's self from all threads at least for few moments. |
| Snow clad trees |
Suddenly we saw few more people trekking up. They were the locals who who had come out to enjoy the fresh snow. They shared a cup of tea with us, warming themselves up near the fire.
Up above the hills when you are alone, without the sophistication of technology men tends to go back to their primitive self. All of them had tea. Sonu did not take money from them. Instead he invited them to warm their hands near the fire.
It had stopped snowing. And I could see the sun, all in orange, red and yellow streaks up in the sky romancing with the snow clad mountains as they became one with the nature. I was in a dream. A heavenly dream, or I was in a dream in heaven. The snow came up above my knees.
As we slid downhill I could hear the snow man calling. It was around 6 in the evening. It was dark as the sun had set but the snow was still shining white.
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| The journey |
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| Sonu and his friend |
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| Icicles |
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| Into the wilderness of snow |
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| Shepherd huts |
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| Birds are there everywhere! |
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| Snow knows no boundaries |
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| My bro in action |
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| A local guide |
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| Back to childhood |
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| Relief |
THE PICTURE SAYS IT ALL
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| Sheets of snow |
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| Digging through snow |
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| Sun set |
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| On the way back |
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| The board says it all |
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| Clouds and the Snow becoming one |
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| As the sun sets |
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