Joginder Nagar - Barot - Bir Tibetan Colony - Sherabling Monastery
Today, we must get to Barot. Buses from Joginder Nagar to Mandi are frequent. We get one immediately after leaving our hotel and get off at Ghatasini which is the point all buses to Barot and beyond must pass through. It is cold and wet and we have a long wait for the Barot bus but our friendly companions at the wayside tea stall make time fly. Our host in Barot, Raj Kumar who runs Sachin’s Home Stay is actually surprised to see us. He has assumed that we would have cancelled our trip because of the bad weather.
Barot is a beautiful place but it certainly turns bleak when it is raining.
Over a lunch of rajma/chawal at a dhaba, we get the perspective of a couple of locals - an army javan on leave and a driver employed by the state government - on the problems they face - lack of jobs and denial of access to wood after the area has been declared a reserve forest.
We visit the dam site on the Uhl (pronounced Uhal) river where the water is dammed and diverted through penstock pipes to Joginder Nagar to drive the power generators. There is a lone official in a cabin warming himself with an electric stove. He invites us in and we dry ourselves.
The dam and power plant are controlled by the Punjab Electricity Board and the power generated also goes to Punjab. The official is responsible for reporting the water levels in the dam to his headquarters. When there is a ‘excess’ water (in excess of the carrying capacity of the plant) in the river due to rains, it is released downstream into the river bed. We ask him if the people downstream are warned. He says that they have a hooter at the dam site which is used to warn people – but of course, it cannot be heard too far downstream. He agrees that if people are caught unawares crossing the river downstream, they will swept away, particulary if it is after dark.
The next morning it is snowing in Barot and our prescient host had hinted at this possibility yesterday. 
Trekking to Rajgundha and then onwards to Billing and Bir – our original plan – is clearly out of question. That is the opinion of several people we ask. So it has to be Bir by road instead.The bus ride to a Bir (pronounced beed) offers its own thrills. The road is blocked by a fresh landslide at one point. A woman passenger gets down, organizes a work gang that includes other passengers and local villagers. With a single crowbar and many hands, the gang manages to push a large boulder off to the side even as earth and rubble continues to come down from the hillside above. The bus continues with its journey on narrow roads at dizzying heights above the Uhl river.
Further on, we acquire an interesting co-passenger. A Gaddi (mountain shepard) wearing a traditional Himachali cap gets on to the bus with a large goat that he is presumably taking to town to sell. The goat is treated as a bona fide passenger.
We arrive in the Tibetan Colony of Bir after walking a few kms from the bus stop on the main highway and take up a room for Rs 250/ in a lodge run by monks in a neighboring monastery. Across the street from the lodge are several Tibetan Café’s. We make our way into Gangchen Zompa Cafe, a cozy looking place filled with Tibetans at this time. The café promises that all the food served is freshly cooked on order. The tomato-egg soup, mutton momos and the tingmo (steamed bread) are really fresh and satisfying and more than make up for the time taken and the impersonal service. The rest of the evening is spent in finding a laundry where we can get our clothes ironed dry (water has got into our haversacks despite all precautions) and getting our new umbrela repaired.
Bir to Baijnath via Sherabling Monastery
It is a wet morning with a dark cloud cover. After a leisurely breakfast we start walking down the Baijnath road.
It is a beautiful road meandering through green fields in open country. The cross country shortcut to Sherabling is a small track on the boundary of a tea garden that takes off to the left after the road crosses the first big nullah.
As we walk along, what would have been a comfortable path has been turned into a small stream by the rain. Beautiful vistas unfold of tea gardens and wheat fields by small villages. Further on, the path enters a forest. The drizzle now builds up into a thunderstorm and the path is no more discernable in the forest; we have it, seems, lost our way. In the distance on a hilltop, there is a lone house standing. We decide to make for it to get renewed directions for Sherabling. Smoke is coming out from a chimney – a welcome sign indeed. The door opens to our knock and a woman peers out and without hesitation asks us to come around to the front door. Over a warm glassfull of tea, sitting in their cozy living room, we get acquainted with our hosts – Sunil Sharma and his mother.
Sunil Sharma (center) and his mother with C, my fellow traveller
We learn that Sunil’s father, employed in the ITBP passed away just a few months earlier. His elder brother works in the merchant navy while his sister works with the health center at the Tibetan Colony in Bir. Sunil himself has trained to be trekking guide but is now preparing to join the merchant navy as a mechanic – a job with better prospects. The rain has petered down to a drizzle by now and we get ready to leave even as Mrs Sharma graciously tries to persuade us to have lunch with them. Sunil walks with us through the forest, perhaps a km, till a point from where the path to Sherabling is clearly visible, getting thoroughly wet himself in the process. It is clear that we would have been hopelessly lost without his help. We exchange contacts and part. The villagers in Kangra have the reputation of being simple, straightforward and very hospitable. The Sharma's have been more than true to type. When my thoughts return to the Sharma's, I feel a sense of guilt - would I have been so hospitable to perfect strangers knocking on my door in the middle of a roaring storm?
The path ahead cuts through a paddy field, crosses a stream and then ascends a hill. Sherabling is somewhere on the other side of the hill. As we walk through the field, the rain picks up again, now turning into a vigorous hailstorm. Reaching the stream, we find that the path has vanished under rapidly flowing water. Eventually, after getting thoroughly wet, we manage to bridge the stream, then climb the hill and walking along the ridge, spot the monastery in the distance.
Sherabling turns out to be an amazing place. It is situated right in the midst of a forest and, we are told, houses 600 students in its hostel. The children come from places as far away as Arunachal Pradesh and Sikkim. The monastery is recent in origin being only 17 years old. Inside the main building is a large statue of the future Buddha, a Buddha who is yet to be born. Norbu, the monk from Arunachal Pradesh is very patient with us. He has been here 7 years. I ask him if the monks will leave the monastery once their learning is complete to which he replies that learning is lifelong and never complete. The Buddhist order running the monastery has establishments in other parts of India and even abroad and monks can be transferred from one place to another. Norbu’s elder brother and parents stay in Arunachal; he has not seen them for three years.
The inside of the monastery is breathtaking with polished wooden floors and beautiful arrangements for monks to sit and meditate. Colorful thanka paintings adorn the walls
.
Sherabling has rooms where guests and visitors can stay and a canteen offering simple food. We order Thukpa – a hot soup with noodles and vegetables – on the advice of ‘amma’ a wizened old lady who (wo)mans the canteen counter. It turns out to be an excellent choice – warming us up. Just then the sun bursts out of the clouds – for the first time in three days - lifting our spirits. Young monks are playing outside throwing snowballs at each other. We have a long way to go before sundown and it is time to leave.
Where do we go next? See: Footloose in Kangra Valley - 3
Today, we must get to Barot. Buses from Joginder Nagar to Mandi are frequent. We get one immediately after leaving our hotel and get off at Ghatasini which is the point all buses to Barot and beyond must pass through. It is cold and wet and we have a long wait for the Barot bus but our friendly companions at the wayside tea stall make time fly. Our host in Barot, Raj Kumar who runs Sachin’s Home Stay is actually surprised to see us. He has assumed that we would have cancelled our trip because of the bad weather.
Barot is a beautiful place but it certainly turns bleak when it is raining.
Over a lunch of rajma/chawal at a dhaba, we get the perspective of a couple of locals - an army javan on leave and a driver employed by the state government - on the problems they face - lack of jobs and denial of access to wood after the area has been declared a reserve forest.
We visit the dam site on the Uhl (pronounced Uhal) river where the water is dammed and diverted through penstock pipes to Joginder Nagar to drive the power generators. There is a lone official in a cabin warming himself with an electric stove. He invites us in and we dry ourselves.
The dam and power plant are controlled by the Punjab Electricity Board and the power generated also goes to Punjab. The official is responsible for reporting the water levels in the dam to his headquarters. When there is a ‘excess’ water (in excess of the carrying capacity of the plant) in the river due to rains, it is released downstream into the river bed. We ask him if the people downstream are warned. He says that they have a hooter at the dam site which is used to warn people – but of course, it cannot be heard too far downstream. He agrees that if people are caught unawares crossing the river downstream, they will swept away, particulary if it is after dark.
The next morning it is snowing in Barot and our prescient host had hinted at this possibility yesterday. We enjoy the snow view – but there is not much to be done except to pack our bags and wait for a bus to take us down.
Trekking to Rajgundha and then onwards to Billing and Bir – our original plan – is clearly out of question. That is the opinion of several people we ask. So it has to be Bir by road instead.
Further on, we acquire an interesting co-passenger. A Gaddi (mountain shepard) wearing a traditional Himachali cap gets on to the bus with a large goat that he is presumably taking to town to sell. The goat is treated as a bona fide passenger.
We arrive in the Tibetan Colony of Bir after walking a few kms from the bus stop on the main highway and take up a room for Rs 250/ in a lodge run by monks in a neighboring monastery. Across the street from the lodge are several Tibetan Café’s. We make our way into Gangchen Zompa Cafe, a cozy looking place filled with Tibetans at this time. The café promises that all the food served is freshly cooked on order. The tomato-egg soup, mutton momos and the tingmo (steamed bread) are really fresh and satisfying and more than make up for the time taken and the impersonal service. The rest of the evening is spent in finding a laundry where we can get our clothes ironed dry (water has got into our haversacks despite all precautions) and getting our new umbrela repaired.
Bir to Baijnath via Sherabling Monastery
It is a wet morning with a dark cloud cover. After a leisurely breakfast we start walking down the Baijnath road.
It is a beautiful road meandering through green fields in open country. The cross country shortcut to Sherabling is a small track on the boundary of a tea garden that takes off to the left after the road crosses the first big nullah.
As we walk along, what would have been a comfortable path has been turned into a small stream by the rain. Beautiful vistas unfold of tea gardens and wheat fields by small villages. Further on, the path enters a forest. The drizzle now builds up into a thunderstorm and the path is no more discernable in the forest; we have it, seems, lost our way. In the distance on a hilltop, there is a lone house standing. We decide to make for it to get renewed directions for Sherabling. Smoke is coming out from a chimney – a welcome sign indeed. The door opens to our knock and a woman peers out and without hesitation asks us to come around to the front door. Over a warm glassfull of tea, sitting in their cozy living room, we get acquainted with our hosts – Sunil Sharma and his mother.
We learn that Sunil’s father, employed in the ITBP passed away just a few months earlier. His elder brother works in the merchant navy while his sister works with the health center at the Tibetan Colony in Bir. Sunil himself has trained to be trekking guide but is now preparing to join the merchant navy as a mechanic – a job with better prospects. The rain has petered down to a drizzle by now and we get ready to leave even as Mrs Sharma graciously tries to persuade us to have lunch with them. Sunil walks with us through the forest, perhaps a km, till a point from where the path to Sherabling is clearly visible, getting thoroughly wet himself in the process. It is clear that we would have been hopelessly lost without his help. We exchange contacts and part. The villagers in Kangra have the reputation of being simple, straightforward and very hospitable. The Sharma's have been more than true to type. When my thoughts return to the Sharma's, I feel a sense of guilt - would I have been so hospitable to perfect strangers knocking on my door in the middle of a roaring storm?
The path ahead cuts through a paddy field, crosses a stream and then ascends a hill. Sherabling is somewhere on the other side of the hill. As we walk through the field, the rain picks up again, now turning into a vigorous hailstorm. Reaching the stream, we find that the path has vanished under rapidly flowing water. Eventually, after getting thoroughly wet, we manage to bridge the stream, then climb the hill and walking along the ridge, spot the monastery in the distance.
Sherabling turns out to be an amazing place. It is situated right in the midst of a forest and, we are told, houses 600 students in its hostel. The children come from places as far away as Arunachal Pradesh and Sikkim. The monastery is recent in origin being only 17 years old. Inside the main building is a large statue of the future Buddha, a Buddha who is yet to be born. Norbu, the monk from Arunachal Pradesh is very patient with us. He has been here 7 years. I ask him if the monks will leave the monastery once their learning is complete to which he replies that learning is lifelong and never complete. The Buddhist order running the monastery has establishments in other parts of India and even abroad and monks can be transferred from one place to another. Norbu’s elder brother and parents stay in Arunachal; he has not seen them for three years.
The inside of the monastery is breathtaking with polished wooden floors and beautiful arrangements for monks to sit and meditate. Colorful thanka paintings adorn the walls
. Sherabling has rooms where guests and visitors can stay and a canteen offering simple food. We order Thukpa – a hot soup with noodles and vegetables – on the advice of ‘amma’ a wizened old lady who (wo)mans the canteen counter. It turns out to be an excellent choice – warming us up. Just then the sun bursts out of the clouds – for the first time in three days - lifting our spirits. Young monks are playing outside throwing snowballs at each other. We have a long way to go before sundown and it is time to leave.
Where do we go next? See: Footloose in Kangra Valley - 3
What a wonderful experience ! through your description I almost felt I was there, and your heartwarming experience with the Kangra people. Please tell us more of where you went after Sherabling.
ReplyDeleteThanks Rajeev. The next part of our travel is described in the next post
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed reading this as Im planning a trip to Himachal mid April. I think you had posted about Barot in indiamike last year too?
ReplyDelete