A Sojourn to Hills

MUNSIYARI

Munsiyari! As musical as it sounds is the place and its people. A paradise far away from the maddening crowds and cities! Located in Pithoragarh district in Uttarakhand, a part of the Indo-Tibetan border.

As I started the journey from Delhi I had fairly less idea how the journey would be.  All I knew was that I wanted to run away to a place far away from the hustle and bustle of the city somewhere up hills in a jungle. Now the question was how far!

I knew it was very far, approximately 695 kms from Delhi but if you rely on Indian Railways chances are high that you will end up in situations which you generally would not prefer ending up. Thanks to the Indian railways, my train was 4 hours late and I ended up hiring at least four shared taxis to finally reach the place.

Shared taxis! Travelling in a shared taxi from Haldwani to Munsiyari is virtually a lifetime experience. 12 hours in a 10 seater Bolero shared taxi; which is always jam-packed with nearly 15 people. You can imagine three average people squeezed in the front seat with the driver. Unfortunately I became the scapegoat to be seated near the driver with my legs spread and the gear in between my legs. Rest is history! 

The tarred road ends as you reach Thal. Rustic nature prepares you for what awaits in Munsiyari. The Gori Ganga on one side and the majestic Himalayas on the other side! To top it all the folk songs played in the shared taxi. People of Munsiyari cannot drive without the songs playing loud, in fact deafening your ears. But quite a collection of rustic love songs. 

HOME STAY

Kamla! A simple village bred woman who lives down the hill in Munsiyari, but with excellent

Kamla's Kitchen

Kamla

cullinery skills. At a time when the maddening crowd in cities runs behind Maggi and pizza, she cooks some lip-smacking homely food fresh from her backyard vegetable garden. I never knew that you even make chutney out of Bhang. I only knew the Banaras Bhang! It is a treat which tickles your taste buds to a variety of sensations…! 3 nights at her place was bliss even though I felt that they charge you a little over the board but worth the hospitality which goes beyond all such material aspects.

If you are allergic to the four walls of a luxurious hotel then give it a shot. Home Stays are the best in Munsiyari. It is well organized by a group of village women. And the tariff goes entirely to these village women except 10% which goes to the Trust that they have formed.

MEHSAR KUND

"Up above the hills stays Yakshi and Gandharvan...the all powering majestic Yakshi and ever romantic Gandharvan"! 

Narcissus awaiting Yaksha

It was as if the Yaksha popped out of my granny's unending list of stories. Kamla said there lived a Yaksha up there in Mehsar Kund. Mehsar Kund was actually 'Maheswar Kund'...later on with time locals started calling it Mehsar Kund. So the Yaksha fell in love with the village head's daughter who used to come to the lake every day to collect water. Who can escape the Yaksha's spell? The poor little girl fell in love with the Yaksha. Setting the whole villagers furious, Yaksha took her along with him to the Lake. Next day the angry villagers along with the girl's father went up to the lake and asked Yaksha to return the girl. But all in vain! Yaksha was madly in love with the girl. How could he give back his love? Furious villagers drained up the lake in revenge. Yakha's wrath knew no bounds. He cast a spell on the village. All wells dried up. All water resources drained up. What followed was an endless drought. Ultimately the villagers had no other option but to relent. They did several pooja and prayers to please the Yaksha and finally the spell was lifted and villagers were happy. And the Yakha and his love lived happily ever after. 

Mehsar Kund

Pushpa

That night when Kamla served us the dinner, I asked her, why were the villagers angry if they both were in love? Kamla retorted, "Mujhe kya pata...ye kahani hai. Sawal nahi poochna chahiye"!

Kamla took our plates away after the dinner only to go back to her sleep. And I could see the Yaksha and his love sitting near the lake counting stars in the sky in solace.  

KHALIA TOP BUGYAL

“Embrace the silence as you climb, romancing with the mountains and deafening wind, one step closer to heaven…”

Pushpa

Pushpa! The first female guide with whom I ever went on a trek so far. When Mallika informed me that Pushpa will guide you to Khalia top, I was taken aback. A village woman! That too up to the hills! Pushpa proved me completely wrong. A strong built woman in her early thirties; a mother of 3 kids but an ardent bird watcher. Pushpa proudly narrated about her involvement in the Land acquisition rally in Delhi which took place just months before. She spoke volumes about Jantar Mantar and Delhi enthusiastically. But when I asked her if she would like to come to Delhi, all she had to say was a big NO. She loved the Hills. Yeah she was a true Pahadi woman. 

We started late by around 10.30 in the morning for the trek. Pushpa said that it is advisable to start early in the morning around six so that we could come back down to the valley before 6 in the evening. Chances of spotting birds are also high during early morning hours. Mallika even warned us not to climb up till the top in the fear that we might get late.

But Pushpa took the risk as we were adamant that we will climb the top; gasping heavily.

   

Khalia Top

However the mere thought of reaching the top kept us going. The sky began to rumble as we reached half way and it started to drizzle as well. But not a heavy downpour to stop us from climbing. It was snowing at the Khalia top even when the sun was boiling in Delhi. Pushpa even offered her sweater as I forgot my jacket. The typical Munsiyari sweater which made me feel one with the mountain people.A stunning view! Magnificent Panchachuli peaks on one side and endless grasslands on the other side. I saw a stone piled up there, on which I was about to sit. Pushpa stopped me saying that it is a temple of Lord Shiva. A trishul, a bell and few stones. A prospective temple in the making. Apart from the religious sentiments the breathtaking view takes you to another world.

Pushpa experimenting with camera

   

In search of Thamri Kund

“The beginning seems to be the end of the maze and we were caught in a cobweb of maze. The known is beautiful but the unknown is even more because the uncertainty of the dark and mysterious gives wing to seamless imagination.”

Rabta Tree

Only a local villager can take you through the mysterious dark jungle back from the trek. We were fortunate to have Pushpa who took us through a jungle of ‘Rabta’ trees (Rabta is the local name). A trek through the wild Rabta trees is tricky. A cobweb of endless intertwined branches and roots. The initial excitement gave way to despair as the feeling of getting lost started to trickle down. It was getting darker and we were caught in the maze; even though Pushpa was way too confident that she knows the direction. A sense of eerie sunk in. My calf muscles start pulling back even though my brains were seeking something else.

Finally the path was in sight. Smiles of relief on our faces but we still had to cross a dense jungle before 8pm. Pushpa made us a hot steaming cup of black tea. A much needed drink after being caught in a dreadful maze. After 10 minutes of halt, we started again. Suddenly we heard a moaning sound from somewhere far behind. Something which resembled a wounded animal or maybe I would have believed that it could even an apparition. Somebody was calling us; may be for help or just playing a silly prank. Such was the aura of eeriness. The moaning continued. As we stopped to look back, Pushpa warned “don’t look back. Let’s walk faster” with a sense of urgency in her voice. I didn’t dare to ask her why. We were nearing Mehsar Kund and I looked back only to see once again the lake where Yaksha met her love.

Finally it was past nine as we reached down the valley. Kamla was worried for us. And there awaits a sumptuous homely dinner for us cooked with love by Kamla.

A WALK IN THE BAZAAR

“Out in the bazaar I walked searching for something which I felt I lost but it was right inside within me”.

Bhattua

Lamb's legs for soup

There are no local buses to commute in Munsiyari. The only other option is taxi service, but they will loot you once they know that you are an outsider. So it is better to take a walk.

As we returned back listening to the folk songs in the shared taxi, I could still hear the moaning, a voice that pulls me back over and again deep into the darkness of unknown.

IN MEMORY OF "2-minutes magic pack"

IN MEMORY OF "2-minutes magic pack"

I was never a Maggi person...Yeah...You can imagine the umpteen number of friends who lift their eye brows when I say with 'not so appealing tone'... "Maggi! yeah..Once in a blue moon!" Especially at a time when Maggi has been pulled off shelves and most of my friends craving for a sumptuous bite despite its unimaginable non-edible content.

If you are trekking person, who loves heights and altitudes, then Maggi just comes across whether you like it or not. In hilly areas, when you climb down after an exciting trekk, there is always a hot steaming cup of tea and the "two-minutes magic pack" awaiting for you in a paper plate down somewhere in the valley.

So this was one such an unexpected trek. Offbeat places always find space in my bucket list. So when my friend suggested a trip to Kilbury in Uttarakhand, I just jumped out of joy. Three days out from the newsroom is like an unseasonal summer drizzle.

Kilbury is 13 kms from Nainital by road. It falls just ahead of Pangot which is a paradise for bird watchers. We drove through the meandering roads enjoying the majestic Himalayas, shying away like a newly wed bride shroud in complete mist. The visibility level was very low. Fear gave way to excitement with the freshness of cool breeze.

The unexpeceted had to happen. The twist to the whole story came when we reached the Forest Rest House were we had gone without pre-booking. Its always better to pre-book an FRH. Thanks to my ignorance, which always refuses to learn from mistakes. Crux of the story is that after much fight and dismay, we ended up downhill in some hotel in Nainital. However luxurious the hotel is, the four walls and artificiality of the hotel kill the joy.

We woke up to a fresh morning cup of tea. All we could do was a trek to China peak or the Naini Peak...which the locals over there pronounce as "Cheena peak". So our trek began with a wry smile but the sheer thought of a trek freshens your mind. There is no need for a local guide to trek to China peak. The lone chaiwala downhill asked us if we are going till the top. Even before my friend could say anything I said "yes". The chaiwala passed a sheepish smile saying "if you start now, you guys will not reach down by evening. And its going to rain". He said gazing at the dark clouds forming somewhere in the distant far sky. It was September and I coudn't see any clouds even though my friend gave me a sign of warning. I was adamant and I just had to trek come what may. So we started before mid-noon. An arduous trek it was.

We reached the top by evening. I sat on the dry grass near pine trees. An entrancing view of the snow clad Himalayas and a birds eye view of the lake city of Nainital. Calm and peaceful it was.

Meandering trekking path as we started

It was evening and we realised that all tourists had already left and we had to climb down before it gets dark. At times we become greedy as we trek, we just feel like spending a few seconds more. My friend was very thoughtful and he said its going to rain. I dismissed calling him a coward even though he is more experienced and far more closer to nature. After spending half an hour more we started from the top. It was around 5 o clock in the evening.

Few minutes of rest somewhere between

Naini Peak

View from Naini Peak

Suddenly there was a tear of lightening and flash in the sky. The rumbling sound of the sky accompanied. Ohh yeah...light travels faster than sound I giggled.  The warning signal of birds echoed in the forest...all rushing back in a hurry back to their nests. I ignored my friend's grave look in his eyes. We were all alone at the top of the China peak at an altitude of 2194 mts and 10 Kms away from the town. And we had a bus to catch back to Delhi that night. Being a South Indian, I always despised Delhi's constipated rains. And I gave a wry smile back saying its jus going to drizzle.

The inescapable conspiracy of Nature. The first drop of rain in my eyes...I was elated jumping like a frog during the onset of monsoons. What followed was obviously not in the plan...In a flicker of a second the dense forest on our both sides turned dark. The whistling sound of wind deafened our ears. Even before I could think, something hard hit on me. Little shrapnel which resembled a piece ice...I couldn't believe my eyes. Ice! I was surprised and was shouting...My friend gave me a sheepish smile...Yes its a hailstorm. My joy knew no bounds. I was seeing a hailstorm for the first time in my life. The "Manna from Heavens" according to my granny's bed time stories.

Silence before the Storm

The excitement gave way to fear as we trekked down. We were stuck, all drenched and cold; shivering even while we were trying to run downhill. We had crossed have way through and there was no going back now. My fingers were numb even as I was trying to secure the mobile phones and cameras. Darkness shrouded the jungle and the heavy wind, rain and hailstorm tore through the flesh making it all the more difficult to walk or run. But the primitive instinct for survival drove us through the finely made path ahead.

Fear of a bear popping out from the darkness made me go crazy. My brains were plotting escape plans. Even while running I managed to estimate the tall pine trees which lacked any lower branches, imagining how will I climb it up if a bear attacked us. Ohh! How I wished if I had learned the art of climbing a coconut tree when I was in Kerala. My brains wished if  legs could run faster like Usain Bolt but hailstorms made it impossible.

It was overwhelming. I was overjoyed, excited at the same time scared like a kid lost in woods. Those are the times when wandering thoughts give way to ideas beyond the numbness of the body. The times when you actually start to believe in horror films and ghost tales. Every now and then I kept looking back in anticipation of somebody or something following us. I imagined huge dark eyes closely watching us from nowhere in the dense dark jungle.

We stopped in between as it was impossible to walk or run anymore. We took shelter below a tree in the direction of the wind. My friend tried to protect me as I stood behind him so that the hail wouldn't strike me. But the hailstorm refused to stop. It came down like the fire of vengeance from Heavens.
It was a jinx. I made fun of the constipated rains, and here it was a nonstop downpour...literally raining cats and dogs.

While climbing up we had spotted one small cave. Cave would be a wrong word to use, but something like a big natural hole under a root where two people can manage to get inside. Apparently a bear hideout. So our plan was to reach there by hook or crook.

We spend nearly half an hour in that "so-called-cave" waiting for the rains to come down. My shoes were all drenched and it was hard to figure out if my toes even existed as I felt even my nerves had gone numb. Only my brains were working. An hour in that dark big hole was like eternity casting a spell on us. I tried to console myself that my last breath would be amidst a forest, that too in a congested natural hole. A slimy snake bite! Or a bear attack! Or a suffocating death in a natural dark hole. I ruminated ways and means to die. But thanks to my practical friend, he lighted a cigarette lighter he was carrying. At least there was light. The rain didn't stop. Neither did the hailstorm. My first tryst with hailstorms. I remembered that day back in Kerala when I cried away to glory all because I couldn't see that magic cubes of ice which fell from heavens on our tiled roofs one day when it rained hard.

Now we just had one mission. To run, run and run! Only to reach the valley as we could barely see the disappearing trekking path. I do not remember how; but we did. And it was still raining. It was half past seven as we reached down. Only to be greeted by the chaiwala who was apparently not expecting us back as he knew it would rain. I was all drenched dripping like a wet hen. He made us  two cups of steaming black tea. As he was making tea, he made space for me to sit near the choolah to warm my hands and feet. I will never forget the enticing smell of masala maggi that he made that day with onions an tomatoes. I gorged upon the maggi noodles like a starved dog.

In memory of Late Maggi

As I boarded the bus back to Delhi, it was a hailstorm rush in my mind. And it was still raining for me and I could still hear the music, the music which only I could hear.









- N