Chalakudy river falls at Athirapally
Kerala monsoon road trip ( see a short description here)
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Chamoli: Glimpses of village life
Walking on the trail from Lohajung to the little village of Didana
Narrow water channels can be seen leading down the slopes to storage tanks near the fields – constructed from NREGA funds, we learn.
Narrow water channels can be seen leading down the slopes to storage tanks near the fields – constructed from NREGA funds, we learn.
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| The patch of wheat (brown) is nearly ready for harvest |
A double storied house – made of stone, with wood windows and doors and rafters and slate roof, a style commonly seen in these parts
The beauty however conceals the low productivity and the harsh natural conditions of agriculture here. Retired army man J S Dana of Didana says his potato crop has been severely damaged by hail stones - the stones puncture the leaves of the plant leaving it frail. A few days later, we have first hand experience in Lohajung of a sharp hail storm.
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J S Dana stands in front of his house in Didana village. Behind him to his right is his field of Alu that has been severely damaged by hail |
A closer look at the wheat standing in the fields near Wan village shows the sparseness of the grains on the stalk. Government statistics also bears out that Uttarakhand has low food grain productivity, lower then the India
Tussar Silk
The low returns from agriculture means that people must look for other ways to supplement their farm income. Rearing silk worms is one option people have taken up. The Tussar worms reared here feed on Oak leaves (rather than mulberry) and these are available in plenty from the nearby Oak forests.
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| A Didana villager with his silk worms |
Jhoola
Some other ways to supplement income also depend on the forest. While making the steep climb through Oak and Rhododendron forest above Didana, we come across groups of girls sometimes accompanied by an older woman, all with sacks on their shoulders. Invariably, the girls greet the stranger with a namaste and politely converse, but decline to be photographed. The girls have rosy cheeks and unblemished skin and wear colorful clothes, earrings, nose studs and other trinkets. They are all collecting lichen from the ground - and sometimes even climbing trees for it - that they call Jhoola. One little collector, Lakshmi from Mandoli looks barely to be 8 years – but I could be mistaken as the people here have a slight build. Lakshman from Didana is also collecting. He studies in the 10th standard and this is vacation time for his school.
Later, looking at some literature on the subject I gather that lichens are used in the preparation of perfumes, dyes as well as masala’s. Didana forest and Kuling forest are among the ‘hot spots’ for lichen in Chamoli district. The brown Oak tree of these forests plays the host to the lichen.
60% of the land in Chamoli district is classified as forest. The villagers depend on the forest for their daily fuel, for timber for their homes, for fodder for their cattle and for other forest produce that can add to their income. But the forests are also the major source of raw materials for industry and income for the state. The appropriation of the forests goes back to the colonial period. The forest department exercises a strong control over the lives of the people here by being able to deny then access to the forest. For example, it can prohibit people from collecting lichens – as it has done so in certain other parts of Chamoli. Large tracts of Oak forest
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| The bugyal of Ghesh-Balan (in the distance) seen from Ali Bugyal |
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| Sheep advancing in formation in Bedni Bugyal |
The shepherds live and move with the flocks along with their sheep dogs – Himalayan mountain dogs – resembling a black Labrador but more shaggy and with a curled tail. The dogs are apparently sometimes hunted by leopards (Baag or Baguwa) and wear metal collars - with jagged edges – and an attached bell. We are unable to spot the shepherds.
The villagers of Didana also maintain homes in Kuling village. There are about 60 families in Didana. They move seasonally – we fail to find out which season and why. When not in use, homes are left locked and unoccupied. I later learn that people in Mundoli also have homes in Kuling. Is Kuling a temporary residence for farmers to access their land on the hill slopes, perhaps in winter, I wonder.
The Keeda Jadi
Near Wan village, we meet Umrao Singh who has been on an expedition to the higher reaches of the bugyals to collect the Keeda Jadi. He allows us to examine one from the precious handful he has collected.
I learn that other names for the Keeda Jadi are Yartsa Gunbu (Tibetan) and the colloquial term of Caterpillar fungus; that it is a kind of caterpillar killed and mummified by a fungal infection and most commonly found at altitudes between 3500 and 4500m – that means in the higher reaches of the bugyals and up to the permanent snow line. (See this current science article written by an Indian researcher for more details) It is highly prized in China
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| Umrao Singh and his solar panel on backpack |
Story of the Khacchar
The mule – Khacchar as it is known locally – is an indispensable for transporting goods in these parts. Raju, a tailor Lohajung who is ferrying our supplies for the last week owns two Khacchars and they are his pride and joy. Bunty and Babli are 15 and 20 years old and respond to their names.
The Guide
Pradhyuman Singh who accompanies us for the entire week is from Mandoli and has been working as a tourist guide for some years. He has an earnest look about him, a dignified presence, and is always helpful. We ask him if the villagers object to the rude intrusions of tourists. He believes otherwise. They are desperate for another source of income. Those employed – as porters, guides, cooks etc – get paid between Rs 250 - 300 per day.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
The Roopkund trail
Roopkund is a frozen lake in a crater under the shadow of Trisul, at a height of over 15,500 ft. With reference to the attached Google image, it is located due East of Kanol at the start of the area that is permanently under snow (seen in silver colour). The triple peaks of Trishul can also be seen.
The trail to Roopkund is actually an old pilgrim trail that is also used in part by shepards and forest department officials and starts from Ali Bugyal and Bedni Bugyal. (Bugyals are high altitude grassy meadows, found above the tree line typically between 11000 and 12000 ft) The Bugyals can be accessed from villages of Wan and Didana (located at more comfortable heights between 7000 and 8000 ft) by a steep climb through a forest of Oak and Rhododendron until one emerges above the tree line.
View Larger Map
Wan is connected by a dirt road to Lohajang (just north of Mundoli) and onward by a metaled road to Mundoli, Deobal, Tharali and Gwaldam. The latter two towns lie on the Kausani - Karnaprayag highway. A map of Chamoli district that shows these towns and villages can be accessed here.
I am part of a group of 19 on this trek to Roopkund organized by Indiahikes from May 30th to June 4th. Our trek is broken into 6 stages, each stage taking a day and starts at Lohajung and ends at the village of Wan. From Lohajung we trek to the village of Didana, from Didana to Bedni Bugyal via Ali Bugyal, from Bedni to Pather Nachauni campsite, from Pather Nachauni to Baguwa Basa campsite, from Baguwa Basa to Roopkund and back to Bedni, and finally from Bedni to the village of Wan.
One of the great features of this trek is the variety of environments through which the trail makes its way. In this post, I attempt to present the flavors of the trail through select photographs and google earth images.
The village trail
The trek from Lohajung to Didana is on a part of what has come to be known as the Lord Curzon trail that goes from Debal all the way over Kunwari Pass and on to Auli, a short distance from Joshimath. This is possibly an ancient trail used by pilgrims to go all the way to Badrinath. For the villagers of Didana, this is their access path to the market town of Lohajung and the road. The path moves along fields and small human settlements to the floor of a valley where a stream known to the villagers as Neel Ganga is spanned by an iron bridge - the 'Raun Bagad'. The Neel Ganga originates in Bedni Kund and carries the icy cold water into the Pindar. After crossing the Neel Ganga, the path climbs upward to the Village of Didana.
Through Himalayan Oak forests
From Didana, there is a steep climb through a forest of Oak and Rhododendron ('Burash' in Garhwali) to reach Ali Bugyal. We cross ruddy faced children - specially girls - from the nearby villages collecting 'Jhula' - a lichen that is apparently hosted by Oak, Rhododendron, Indian Bayberry, and Chir pine trees - in bags slung over their shoulders. Wan village can be seen in the distance across the valley in which a river - another tributary of the Pindar flows. Emerging from the tree line, the expanse of Ali Bugyal unfolds. In the gentle grass slopes of the Bugyal, the trail vanishes.
Traversing the Bugyals
We head for the ridge from where we get a 360 degree view. The trail to Bedni can be picked up from the northern extreemity of Ali Bugyal. The huge expanse of Ali Bugyal can be easily spotted on a google satellite image (see the end of this post) as a long finger - easily 4 to 5 kms in length - pointing in the north-easterly direction towards Trishul.
The trail is once more visible as we leave Ali Bugyal and walk towards
Bedni Kund.While the sky is blue in other directions, it looks ominous with dark clouds to the north east and that is the direction we are heading. Trisul is out there somewhere but completely hidden by the clouds. When we reach the Bedni camp site we look for the Kund. It is bone dry - no wonder we did not spot it - though it is early June.
The next day, moving beyond Bedni, we are rewarded with a clear sky and a magnificent view of Trisul. We walk in the Bugyals all the way to the next camp site at Pather Nachauni. Herds of goats can be seen near the camp site accompanied by sheep dogs. Nature is still benevolent here.
The trail from Pather Nachauni (Dancing stones) to Bhaguwa Basa (Home of the Bag or Leopard) takes one on a steep ascent up a cliff to a height close to 14000 ft. This is where we leave the Bugyals.
Looking back midway into the climb, the trail can be seen far below. The top of the trail is marked by the Kalu Vinayak temple with a black murthy of Ganesh.
Beyond this point, the trail - carpeted with rocks - is as bleak as the surrounding landscape. We are nearing the Baguwa Basa campsite, the staging camp for the climb to Roopkund the next morning.
Through snow fields
The trail moves sideways with switchbacks along a hill side with a fairly steep downward slope. At several places, it crosses snow fields.
Roopkund is located beneath the dark hood near the top left hand corner of this picture. The 'hood' is a face of the crater occupied by the lake. ( I am not aware of this detail when I take the photograph - this becomes clear only after I return home and pour over the photos of the trek)
The snow fields must be negotiated very carefully, a step at a time, as the snow is hard and crunchy and at times slippery. My co-trekkers teach me the technique of sledging my boots in side-ways into the snow to get a good foot hold before advancing with the other foot.
The climb down to Baguwa Basa is expectedly tricky as by now the snow on the trail has started to melt. The two guides with our group appear magically and offer the helping hand just when one needs it. They are all over the place, slipping and sliding down the snow slopes, sometimes even backwards, keeping an eye on the large group. A few of my co-trekkers who venture to slide down a snow field on their bottoms and find themselves accelerating completely out of control are saved in the nick of time by these simple Garhwali's - farmers from the nearby villages working as guides in the trekking season.
Finally, dear reader, here is a Google earth image for you. Can you spot Roopkund and the trail along the hill side? If you have the patience, you can fly over Ali Bugyal and all the way up over the Roopkund trail.
View Larger Map
Himalayan Trek 2, May 2010
The trail to Roopkund is actually an old pilgrim trail that is also used in part by shepards and forest department officials and starts from Ali Bugyal and Bedni Bugyal. (Bugyals are high altitude grassy meadows, found above the tree line typically between 11000 and 12000 ft) The Bugyals can be accessed from villages of Wan and Didana (located at more comfortable heights between 7000 and 8000 ft) by a steep climb through a forest of Oak and Rhododendron until one emerges above the tree line.
View Larger Map
Wan is connected by a dirt road to Lohajang (just north of Mundoli) and onward by a metaled road to Mundoli, Deobal, Tharali and Gwaldam. The latter two towns lie on the Kausani - Karnaprayag highway. A map of Chamoli district that shows these towns and villages can be accessed here.
I am part of a group of 19 on this trek to Roopkund organized by Indiahikes from May 30th to June 4th. Our trek is broken into 6 stages, each stage taking a day and starts at Lohajung and ends at the village of Wan. From Lohajung we trek to the village of Didana, from Didana to Bedni Bugyal via Ali Bugyal, from Bedni to Pather Nachauni campsite, from Pather Nachauni to Baguwa Basa campsite, from Baguwa Basa to Roopkund and back to Bedni, and finally from Bedni to the village of Wan.
One of the great features of this trek is the variety of environments through which the trail makes its way. In this post, I attempt to present the flavors of the trail through select photographs and google earth images.
The village trail
The trek from Lohajung to Didana is on a part of what has come to be known as the Lord Curzon trail that goes from Debal all the way over Kunwari Pass and on to Auli, a short distance from Joshimath. This is possibly an ancient trail used by pilgrims to go all the way to Badrinath. For the villagers of Didana, this is their access path to the market town of Lohajung and the road. The path moves along fields and small human settlements to the floor of a valley where a stream known to the villagers as Neel Ganga is spanned by an iron bridge - the 'Raun Bagad'. The Neel Ganga originates in Bedni Kund and carries the icy cold water into the Pindar. After crossing the Neel Ganga, the path climbs upward to the Village of Didana.
Through Himalayan Oak forests
From Didana, there is a steep climb through a forest of Oak and Rhododendron ('Burash' in Garhwali) to reach Ali Bugyal. We cross ruddy faced children - specially girls - from the nearby villages collecting 'Jhula' - a lichen that is apparently hosted by Oak, Rhododendron, Indian Bayberry, and Chir pine trees - in bags slung over their shoulders. Wan village can be seen in the distance across the valley in which a river - another tributary of the Pindar flows. Emerging from the tree line, the expanse of Ali Bugyal unfolds. In the gentle grass slopes of the Bugyal, the trail vanishes.
Traversing the Bugyals
We head for the ridge from where we get a 360 degree view. The trail to Bedni can be picked up from the northern extreemity of Ali Bugyal. The huge expanse of Ali Bugyal can be easily spotted on a google satellite image (see the end of this post) as a long finger - easily 4 to 5 kms in length - pointing in the north-easterly direction towards Trishul.
The trail is once more visible as we leave Ali Bugyal and walk towards
The trail from Pather Nachauni (Dancing stones) to Bhaguwa Basa (Home of the Bag or Leopard) takes one on a steep ascent up a cliff to a height close to 14000 ft. This is where we leave the Bugyals.
Looking back midway into the climb, the trail can be seen far below. The top of the trail is marked by the Kalu Vinayak temple with a black murthy of Ganesh.
Beyond this point, the trail - carpeted with rocks - is as bleak as the surrounding landscape. We are nearing the Baguwa Basa campsite, the staging camp for the climb to Roopkund the next morning.
Through snow fields
The trail moves sideways with switchbacks along a hill side with a fairly steep downward slope. At several places, it crosses snow fields.
The snow fields must be negotiated very carefully, a step at a time, as the snow is hard and crunchy and at times slippery. My co-trekkers teach me the technique of sledging my boots in side-ways into the snow to get a good foot hold before advancing with the other foot.
Closer to Roopkund, the path can be discerned only by looking for footsteps. We make our way gingerly ever careful of icy patches.
Moving above Roopkund, the snow is soft as there has been a fresh snowfall perhaps only that morning. The climbers in this picture are heading towards Junargali, just above Roopkund.
I capture the frozen lake from a spot on the slope leading to Junargali. This marks how high I venture. The return journey is already weighing on my mind.
The climb down to Baguwa Basa is expectedly tricky as by now the snow on the trail has started to melt. The two guides with our group appear magically and offer the helping hand just when one needs it. They are all over the place, slipping and sliding down the snow slopes, sometimes even backwards, keeping an eye on the large group. A few of my co-trekkers who venture to slide down a snow field on their bottoms and find themselves accelerating completely out of control are saved in the nick of time by these simple Garhwali's - farmers from the nearby villages working as guides in the trekking season.
The trail back after Baguwa Basa holds no terrors but becomes tedious as we walk back all the way to Bedni Kund the same day (as our ascent to Roopkund). I am feeing feverish and exhausted by the time I reach Bedni and this is the first occasion I crawl into my tent and get into my sleeping bag even though it is only early evening.
But all ends well. The next day dawns bright and I can once again see and hear the Birds as we descend to Wan from Bedni.
Afterword
View Larger Map
Himalayan Trek 2, May 2010
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| At Roopkund |
Ali Bugyal in pictures
(below) An unlimited free lunch for these quadrupeds
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Bird spotting - Kerala Backwaters
A White Throated Kingfisher - on an island in the backwaters near Kochi - mid JuneBird spotting - Bedni Kund
Monday, June 7, 2010
Bir to Baijnath cross country via Sherabling
Deccan Herald Sunday Edition has published an edited version of the following piece here. The original, reproduced below, was extracted from the report of the Kangra Valley trip that appeared in this blog earlier.
The Tibetan Colony of Bir (pronounced Beed) is a few kms from the Bir Road bus stop on the Mandi – Dharamsala highway straddling the Kangra Valley. We walk towards the colony in the winter drizzle. The snow in the upper reaches has put paid to our plans to trek to Billing, a high ridge overlooking Bir from where Para gliders take sail into the Kangra Valley. We settle for the best alternative in the circumstances, a trek to Baijnath the next day on country tracks, passing the Sherabling Monastry on the way. But right now, what we need is some shelter and food.
A monk, keeping pace with us, directs us to a lodge in the Tibetan Colony. Mid February is off-season here and we get a room with two beds and clean sheets for just Rs. 250/. Just across the street is the Gangchen Zompa cafe, a cozy looking place filled with Tibetans at this time. The café promises that all the food served is freshly cooked to 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 they take to arrive. The rest of the evening is spent getting our clothes and boots dry and umbrellas repaired.
We wake up to a wet morning with a dark cloud cover. After a leisurely breakfast, we start walking towards Baijnath. It is a beautiful road meandering through green fields in open country with no traffic, motorized or otherwise. Soon we reach the cross-country shortcut to Sherabling we have been on the lookout for - a small track veering to the left alongside a teagarden after crossing a big nalah.
What would have been normally a comfortable path has turned into a small stream because of the rain. As we walk down, beautiful vistas unfold of tea gardens and wheat fields by small villages. After a while, the path enters a forest. The drizzle has turned by now into a regular rain accompanied by thunder and the path is no more discernable in the poor light; we have lost our way. In the distance on a hilltop, there is a lone house. We decide to head 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, a woman peers out, and without the slightest hesitation invites us – two strangers in jackets and boots and carrying backpacks and umbrellas - to come around to the front door.
Over a hot glass of tea, sitting in their cozy living room, we get acquainted with Mrs Sharma and her son Sunil. Sharma ji, employed in the ITBP passed away just a few months earlier. Sunil’s elder brother works in the merchant navy while his sister works with the health center at the Tibetan Colony. Sunil himself has trained to be a 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 kilometer, until the path ahead becomes clearly visible, getting thoroughly wet in the process. It is clear that we would have been hopelessly lost without his help. We exchange contacts, shake hands, and part. Kangra villagers have the reputation of being simple, straightforward, and very hospitable. The Sharmas have been more than true to type. Later, when my thoughts return to this family, I feel a pang of guilt - would I have been as 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. As we walk through the field, the rain turns into a vigorous hailstorm painting the field white. Reaching the stream, we find that the path has disappeared under rapidly flowing water. Eventually, after a long detour and getting thoroughly wet, we manage to bridge the stream, then climb the hill and walking along the ridge, spot the golden shimmer of the roof of the monastery in the distance.
Situated right in the middle of a forest, Sherabling turns out to be an amazing place. Its hostels house 600 children, some 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, the Buddha who is yet to be born. Norbu, a monk from Arunachal Pradesh, is very patient with us. He has been here 7 years. He has left his elder brother and parents in his village, which he has not visited for three years. I ask him if the monks will leave the monastery when their learning is complete. His reply - that learning is lifelong and never complete – leaves me sheepish.
The inside of the monastery is breathtaking with gleaming polished wooden floors and beautiful arrangements for monks to sit and meditate.
Colorful thanka paintings adorn the walls. There are rooms where visitors can stay and a canteen that offers 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 and making the wet clothes and socks bearable. 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 balls rounded from hailstones at each other. We still have a long way to go before sundown and it is time to leave.
A narrow road leads from the vicinity of the Sherabling monastery to the village of Bhattu. We follow the road for some time and then take short cuts through Bhattu village. It is a picturesque village, looking prosperous, clean and washed after the rain. The ubiquitous piles of garbage and plastic common to tourist destinations are missing here – perhaps a sign that few outsiders pass through. The houses are set amidst small terraced fields and we can identify wheat, mustard, onions, garlic, and carrots, all in tiny plots. The road winds down along the Binwa River that carries melted snow from the Dhauladhar range of mountains behind us. Walking along an elevated meadow one gets splendid views of the snow-clad peaks.
We enter the town of Baijnath after crossing a bridge over the Binwa. A little distance ahead is the 8th century Shiva temple located at a commanding height above the river and offering gorgeous views of the river gorge and the snow peaks in the distance. The temple complex is refreshing, with neat landscaped gardens all around and entrances from several directions. It is not just a place for prayer. People can be seen taking their evening walk in the complex and relaxing in its parks. Behind the temple, a steep staircase leads down to the river flowing far below. Our trek for today ends at the bus stand, just a couple of minutes away from the Shiva temple. The day has given us far more than anything we could have anticipated as we set out that rain-drenched morning.
The Tibetan Colony of Bir (pronounced Beed) is a few kms from the Bir Road bus stop on the Mandi – Dharamsala highway straddling the Kangra Valley. We walk towards the colony in the winter drizzle. The snow in the upper reaches has put paid to our plans to trek to Billing, a high ridge overlooking Bir from where Para gliders take sail into the Kangra Valley. We settle for the best alternative in the circumstances, a trek to Baijnath the next day on country tracks, passing the Sherabling Monastry on the way. But right now, what we need is some shelter and food.
A monk, keeping pace with us, directs us to a lodge in the Tibetan Colony. Mid February is off-season here and we get a room with two beds and clean sheets for just Rs. 250/. Just across the street is the Gangchen Zompa cafe, a cozy looking place filled with Tibetans at this time. The café promises that all the food served is freshly cooked to 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 they take to arrive. The rest of the evening is spent getting our clothes and boots dry and umbrellas repaired.
We wake up to a wet morning with a dark cloud cover. After a leisurely breakfast, we start walking towards Baijnath. It is a beautiful road meandering through green fields in open country with no traffic, motorized or otherwise. Soon we reach the cross-country shortcut to Sherabling we have been on the lookout for - a small track veering to the left alongside a teagarden after crossing a big nalah.
What would have been normally a comfortable path has turned into a small stream because of the rain. As we walk down, beautiful vistas unfold of tea gardens and wheat fields by small villages. After a while, the path enters a forest. The drizzle has turned by now into a regular rain accompanied by thunder and the path is no more discernable in the poor light; we have lost our way. In the distance on a hilltop, there is a lone house. We decide to head 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, a woman peers out, and without the slightest hesitation invites us – two strangers in jackets and boots and carrying backpacks and umbrellas - to come around to the front door.
Over a hot glass of tea, sitting in their cozy living room, we get acquainted with Mrs Sharma and her son Sunil. Sharma ji, employed in the ITBP passed away just a few months earlier. Sunil’s elder brother works in the merchant navy while his sister works with the health center at the Tibetan Colony. Sunil himself has trained to be a 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 kilometer, until the path ahead becomes clearly visible, getting thoroughly wet in the process. It is clear that we would have been hopelessly lost without his help. We exchange contacts, shake hands, and part. Kangra villagers have the reputation of being simple, straightforward, and very hospitable. The Sharmas have been more than true to type. Later, when my thoughts return to this family, I feel a pang of guilt - would I have been as 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. As we walk through the field, the rain turns into a vigorous hailstorm painting the field white. Reaching the stream, we find that the path has disappeared under rapidly flowing water. Eventually, after a long detour and getting thoroughly wet, we manage to bridge the stream, then climb the hill and walking along the ridge, spot the golden shimmer of the roof of the monastery in the distance.
Situated right in the middle of a forest, Sherabling turns out to be an amazing place. Its hostels house 600 children, some 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, the Buddha who is yet to be born. Norbu, a monk from Arunachal Pradesh, is very patient with us. He has been here 7 years. He has left his elder brother and parents in his village, which he has not visited for three years. I ask him if the monks will leave the monastery when their learning is complete. His reply - that learning is lifelong and never complete – leaves me sheepish.
The inside of the monastery is breathtaking with gleaming polished wooden floors and beautiful arrangements for monks to sit and meditate.
A narrow road leads from the vicinity of the Sherabling monastery to the village of Bhattu. We follow the road for some time and then take short cuts through Bhattu village. It is a picturesque village, looking prosperous, clean and washed after the rain. The ubiquitous piles of garbage and plastic common to tourist destinations are missing here – perhaps a sign that few outsiders pass through. The houses are set amidst small terraced fields and we can identify wheat, mustard, onions, garlic, and carrots, all in tiny plots. The road winds down along the Binwa River that carries melted snow from the Dhauladhar range of mountains behind us. Walking along an elevated meadow one gets splendid views of the snow-clad peaks.
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