Where the Yamuna is young

( The title is a take on the great travel adventure "Where the Indus in Young" by Deverla Murphy)

This travel piece appeared in the EPW with a few (crucial) lines dropped.

Kamal Valley

The bus leaves Purola carrying daily commuters, and makes its way up the valley of the Kamal at a measured pace hugging the curves of the smooth road. I look out on a remarkably wide valley dotted with neat habitations amidst green fields of wheat and jawar. Seated next to me, a soft spoken pahadi patiently answers my questions. The driver plays a melodious Garhwali song and I can picture a slow rhythmic harvest dance. 

My phone rings and it is Rana inquiring. I feel welcome in the hills.

I got acquainted with Rana in Dehradun yesterday after we both missed the last bus to Purola. Rana was as desperate as me to avoid spending the night in the city, so I decided to tag along, trusting him, a local, to get me out. After a fruitless afternoon scouring shared taxi stands we finally got lucky. Rana recognized the driver of a charter bus speeding past us in Vikas Nagar and managed to get it to stop. The bus was headed straight for Purola!

Saur Village just off Sankri

 On a wet evening the large vehicle hurtled along a treacherous road at great speed following the Yamuna upstream. At a dinner stop, after having his glass of the local brew, Rana became positively friendly. Back on the bus, he called up and made arrangements for my night stay in Purola and instructed the driver on where I should be dropped. Before I could protest, he had paid my fare and hopped off the bus at a fork before Purola.

That was last night. Rana called again just now to check if I made the morning bus to Sankri!

Sankri is the start of a trail to a valley in north Uttarakhand with the enticing name Har ki doon. My plan is to walk this trail for the next few days, halting the nights at wayside Garhwal Mandal Vikas Nigam (GMVN) guest houses.

My trek begins earlier than anticipated because of a landslide a few km short of Sankri. Just beyond Sankri, I meet two men – caretakers at GMVN guest houses, it turns out - headed in the opposite direction to collect their salaries after a delay of 6 months! I part with an assurance that their absence will not cause a problem for me. I reach the guest house at Taluka village cold and wet after walking barefoot through several icy streams and braving rain and hail.

The next day, the trail follows the Har ki doon Gad (stream), passing below villages located precariously on the hill slopes. Terraced fields of wheat and mustard extend to impossible slopes and dizzy heights, adding dashes of brilliant yellow and green to the drab brown and grey.

Turning a blind corner on a ledge above the river, we get our first dramatic view of the village of Osla perched high up on the other side.  Below the village, the mountain drops steeply into the river; above it, it presents a sheer rock face. Why are the villages located at inaccessible heights rather than near the river bank, I ask Kamal, a young man from Taluka who is accompanying me? His intriguing answer is that in the past, this helped the villagers to secure themselves against raids by local kings!

Soon we reach the settlement of Seema, across the river from Osla. Jainder Singh’s dhabha opposite the guest house looks the livelier place and I make myself comfortable by his chullah. Villagers stop by for warmth and conversation and the evening passes amiably in the company of simple people. The dinner tastes especially good after I have been witness to the labor that has gone into its preparation.

Forest rest house, Har ki doon

A hard third day’s trek, the last part crunching snow, brings us within view of the colorful forest rest house in Har ki doon. Sticking out of the snow in the shadow of a gigantic boulder set against a steep mountain face, it has a fairy tale look. There is still an hour’s plodding now through knee deep snow before we reach the GMVN guest house. Pavani, the canteen contractor at Har ki doon has himself just gotten there and is trying to get a fire going. It starts snowing and turns bitterly cold. For the rest of the evening, I am obsessed with trying to keep warm.

By the next morning, there is an amazing turnaround outside. I look out on a clear blue sky and the sharp outline of Swargarohini stretching nearly 3 km above us. Like in most parts of the Himalayas, there is a Mahabharata association here too. Swargarohini, in local legend, is the ‘stairway to heaven’ climbed by Yudhishtar, the eldest of the Pandavas.

A forest of pine borders either side of a gentle meandering stream. The grassy mountain slopes on closer look reveal the brown giving way to green. Numerous flowers - yellow Dandelion, Marsh Marigold, and blue Gentian - have sprung up in anticipation of spring. Pavani informs me that but for the abnormal wintry conditions, it would have been impossible to sleep this late in the morning because of the chatter of birds with as he puts it, their "108 boli" (108 tongues).

Good weather and a descending trail make the return walk a relaxed affair. Near Osla, women in colorful attire are readying the fields for the next crop of phafra, a local grain. At the satellite phone center curious little children, dressed in layers of grey-brown and wearing pretty headscarves gather around us.

Osla hugs a steep hill slope and has streets at several levels. The houses are multi-storied and follow a pattern. The ground floor is used for cattle and sheep and above it is the family residence with an overhanging balcony. Right on top are the lofts for storing wood. Kamal points to separately housed silos that stock family grain and other rations to last the harsh winter.

We stop at the village temple, a stark reminder of how far local beliefs can differ from the dominant ones. The temple is dedicated to Duryodhana! The deity is shared with several other temples in this region, moving between them according to a customary schedule, I learn.

 The return walk to Taluka along the Har ki doon Gad is memorable. We walk past the beautiful fields of green and yellow. It is early morning and birds abound. Drongos sit companionably in the trees. Dippers squat on the rocks midstream. Redstarts perform acrobatics, showing off their brilliant colors. A majestic Lammergeir glides low over the water. Blue sky, warm sun, the sparkling river and birds of so many hues, nature invites to come again.