The sights and sounds of Naggar

I am the only paying passenger left on the bus overnight bus from Delhi as it pulls into the busy Kulu bus stand - a handful of others left in the bus after Mandi are all employees of the bus company. I climb into a brightly colored bus which is going to Manali but that is not my destination. The bus crosses over to the left bank of the Beas and makes its way up slowly on a winding road.

Naggar

We drive through the Kulu Valley, just a few kms wide, with hills rising steeply on either side. The area near the river and the lower hill sides are continuously dotted with habitations. Apple orchards fill the open spaces – the trees bare and leafless in their winter form.

A little over an hour into the ride, we reach a busy market place and this is my stop. The ancient village of Naggar, the capital of the Kulu state for a thousand years, is located up a hill a short walk from here. A road heads towards it with several switch backs. Just across from a large structure called the 'Castle', I locate a family run guest house which has a room with a view.

And what a view it is! Sitting on the balcony, I look down upon the Beas flowing far below. Across the river, the hills rise in layers with scattered snow marking the tallest peaks in the far background. It is cold inside the room but beautiful in the sun splashed balcony. One can spend the better part of the day doing nothing here.

A courtyard of the Castle

But there are many things to do and places to visit in Naggar. First on my list is to check out the curiously named ‘Castle’. In a few minutes, I stand before a dignified old rectangular structure that is entirely made of wood and stone – with no cement or iron in evidence, anywhere.  A large board explains that this was the residence of the royals of Kulu state when Naggar was the capital. It has now been converted into a state run hotel.

I discover that the best way to enjoy the Castle is to sit in its open balcony and have lunch. A corner table allows me to soak in the graceful courtyard of the palace and the vast expanse of the Beas valley below.

The departure of the Devi

On Deepavali day only a couple of days later, I have occasion to visit the Castle again. Stepping out for my morning walk, I see a group of men in traditional Kulu caps collecting at the Castle entrance. There is a perceptible excitement in the air. The sound of drums and trumpets emanates from within. I decide to abandon my walk and join the others who are now entering the Castle.

One of the courtyards of the Castle has a tiny temple with the name of Jagati Patt and this is the scene of all the action. A devi who has taken temporary residence at this temple is about to be carried back to her permanent home. I learn that it is a very special occasion for the people of Naggar for the devi has come here after 370 years. An elaborate ritual is about to be played out.

A band of musicians with long curved trumpets and large drums stand facing the temple, playing their instruments. The palki (palanquin) is taken out and readied. A white lamb brought for the occasion is sacrificed and its head offered to the devi before she is moved into the palki, now resting on the shoulders of two young men. Village elders gather around.

An elderly man takes up a litany in Kului with others responding to his supplications when he pauses. I understand enough to make out that he is pleading with the devi not to leave. The palki sways in the direction of the exit, signaling that the devi wishes to leave. Other elders take their turns, pleading. The crowd is somber, moved by the entreaties, awaiting the inevitable. A burly priest who has all along been conducting the ceremonies in a business like fashion starts sobbing. The time has come.

Youth bearing flags lead the way followed by the musicians. Then comes the palki escorted out by the people of Naggar who bid goodbye. The procession, a hundred or more people strong, marches swiftly downhill. I join in, reveling in the energy of the crowd.

The marchers are friendly and invite me to come with them all the way. It is then that I learn that this is going to be a really long march. The destination for the day is Kullu, 25 kms away! It is only the next day that the devi will reach her abode in the mountains and she has already been traveling for 8 days! Reaching the next village, I bid goodbye to my newly made friends and take a bus back to Naggar. The morning has offered far more than I could have imagined.

Art in the Himalayas

Just a km up on the winding mountain road is the house which Nicholas Roerich, the renowned painter and humanist made his home. It now houses an art gallery with several of his paintings. I spend an afternoon absorbing the works of a man who was in love with the Himalayas and conveys its mystique. I am transported to a bygone era - of poets, reformers, dreamers, philosophers – who dreamt impossible dreams.

Next door to Roerich’s house is ‘Uruswati’, an institute he established to document the traditional medical knowledge of the Himalayan peoples, among other activities. What was once an Institution with international connections is now a museum, with all scientific activity abandoned after Roerich’s death in 1947. I leave feeling sad at how the dreams and efforts of such a pioneer could not be sustained in independent India.

Rumsu

Yet another day, I set out at dawn on the road going up from Naggar. A Himalayan Thrush whistling away a merry tune is the first bird up. The brown peaks across the Beas start taking on a warm golden tinge. I confirm from two men warming themselves around a fire that I should take the steep cemented staircase leading off from the road.

As the morning advances, the range across the Beas is brightly lit up. A pair of snow peaks peeps over the brown hills in the far north. The air is filled with birdsong. A school boy goes racing past me heading downwards.

The temple in Rumsu

Walking past a neat school building, I enter the village of Rumsu. It is 7.30 in the morning and people are already out working – collecting hay for their cattle and horses, laying out the golden corn on the cob on their roofs to sun dry. I pass the village temple, a beautiful structure in traditional style and then reach the main square, a large open space with more old temples. At the end of the village there is an area fenced off with a small shrine in its midst and a sign warning people against entering the area of the devtas.

The sacred forest

A shopkeeper points to the path that leads to Chandar Khani pass - with its reputed views of the Dhauladhar and Pir Panjal ranges – that I will take tomorrow. But for today, it is time to return. On the way back, a flock of magpies in an orchard tease me, always managing to stay out of reach of my camera.

Chanderkhani pass trek

An old piece on Naggar from the Deccan Herald