Belonging

The couple sitting in front of me are completely absorbed talking to each other.

Next to the window is the boy who looks no older than 12 or 13 years, a sallow face on a thin frame wearing a faded striped shirt. By him sits a young woman, somewhere in her mid twenties wearing blue jeans and a full sleeved shirt top. Her long brown hair is set in an elaborate hairstyle, coiled neatly and emerging in a flourish over her head. When she turns, she reveals a pretty face somewhat overwhelmed by the red of her lipstick.

A long ride from the airport through familiar landscapes and city streets awaits me. Snatches of conversation between the two that I can decipher over the ambient noise provide a welcome diversion. I soon figure out that he has just arrived by air and that she has received him at the airport. He complains of delays and she explains that he is under age and that is why it would have taken longer. They are very comfortable talking to each other, must be brother and sister, I think.

We move slowly past the series of parking lots filled with white sedans. The boy exclaims, “How many Marutis”! He has never seen such a concentration of cars in one area before. Must be coming into a large metro for the first time, I think

The road is sandwiched between manicured gardens with a variety of shrubs and greenery. “Look, so beautiful it is, isn’t it?” the young woman says as she looks at the boy, full of enthusiasm. Her Hindi is soothing to the ears, maybe the language of Eastern UP.

The bus has glass windows stretching up all the way to its roof providing a clear view of the sky on either side. It is late afternoon and clouds hang low hiding the sun. She calls his attention to the clouds, excitement in her voice. He does not reply, but I can sense that he is happy. All of the north is in the grip of a heat wave and people must be desperately awaiting the monsoon.

We speed down the six lane highway straight through the countryside. “How nicely the road has been made”, she says to the boy. He grunts in agreement and then replies “our place also has a new road coming up”. She is surprised and eager for every bit of news about home - how has her mamaji come to own a car, who drives it, what business he is engaged in. I figure that their mamaji is a labor contractor and ferries workers to the place of work in his vehicle.

“One day when I was driving”, she says, “the vehicle started swerving from side to side. I was all shaken up. I have no idea why. I was holding it straight!” I am suddenly alert. That is not a four wheeler she is talking about, I think. She must ride a scooter, she works.

We pass a gigantic rock, one of those you find dotted about the Deccan on otherwise absolutely flat land. More than half of this one has been cut away for making rock jelly. I am surprised to hear her say “this mountain looks so nice. Look at the way they are carving it up round and round!”

“I came here 7 years ago”, I hear her say. “Then I must have been only 9 years old”, he replies. He looks younger than his 16 years, I think, probably because of his slight build. But then, he does talk with the maturity of a 16 year old. She must have been like her brother when she came, I think. The city has transformed her.

Traffic is starting to build up. We move past a long line of wayside stalls stacked with heaps of mangoes. He is not impressed – there must be much bigger mandis in the town to which they belong. She shows off the large mosque, the lit up marriage halls, the imposing church and the metro.

The boy is getting impatient. “It is not too far now”, she says. “Where we get off from the bus, we take a side road. No, buses will not go on that road, only autos. We can also walk.”

We move past a large hospital which she marks out for him. They get up from their seats and the boy picks up a shoulder bag, his only piece of luggage.

As the bus moves past, I get a glimpse of her face. She looks happy and proud. This is her city and they are nearly home.

Drilbu Ri and Keylong

While in Keylong, I have been visiting the Pau Gomba Sanju Dhaba morning and evening. In external appearance it is quite undistinguished, but as I have discovered, the atmosphere inside is friendly, the kitchen clean and open, the food tasty and the staff willing to cater to my little whims.

(This piece is reproduced from EPW, Jan 30, 2016. Pictures added)

Keylong seen from the base of Drilbu Ri

Pasang Dolma runs the dhaba with a male assistant and her two younger sisters. The food is priced reasonably, and the dhaba does roaring business. Despite keeping long hours – 6.30 in the morning to 10.30 at night - Pasang remains cheerful and is always ready to engage in friendly banter with acquaintances that drop in. And as for me, I have found the information she has provided about excursions around town to be very useful.

Today I plan to do the kora (parikrama) of Drilbu Ri (Bell Mountain), a formidable mountain that towers over Keylong. The kora regularly attracts pious Buddhists and Hindus and occasionally the not so pious trekkers like me. Pasang informs me that it is a long and hard trek and people start by 5 am. I get off to a late start - it is past 7.30 by the time I have eaten and packed some food for the way.

Fire Fronted Serin

I walk through the town and follow a path out past fields of peas, cauliflower and potato. The path slopes down to a bridge spanning the narrow gorge of the Bhaga and then climbs steeply to the Khardang gompa (monastery). School children run down past me while I make heavy work of the climb. One of them informs me he has completed the kora twice and that leaves me reassured. Just beyond the gompa, I stop at a spring to catch my breath and watch the sparrow sized birds - Fire Fronted Serin - that flit about near the water.

The ramparts of the fortress like Drilbu Ri loom above, its grassy flanks streaked with pink Himalayan Fleece. The sun and clouds play with the hills to produce strange patterns of light and shadow over the valley. The path climbs up the side of the mountain and is marked with flags, painted rock signs and cairns.

First sight of prayer flags on Rangcha Gali

 It turns out to be a long and lonely walk. In the three hours elapsed after passing the gompa, the only person I see is an old man so engrossed in his prayers that he walks by without looking at me. The trek down - if I have to return the same way - is going to be tougher, for the path is steep and slippery in many places. I harbour thoughts of turning back.

Not a minute too soon, the prayer flags marking the pass come into view. With newfound energy, I cover the stiff remaining climb to reach Rangcha Gali, a narrow passage to the other side of Drilbu Ri, skirting its commanding heights. My altimeter shows 4380 m. I have gained nearly 1.5 km height from the time I walked on the bridge over the Bhaga!

I sit down and feast my eyes over the panorama. The majestic Pir Panjals stretch out east and west as far as the eye can see, mingling with the clouds. Directly across from me, the 6000 m Shikar Beh and Mukar Beh rise vertically from the Chandra River 3 km below.

Ridge separating Chandra and Bhaga watersheds, 4380 m

 The view over the side of the mountain that I just came up is no less enchanting. Pretty Keylong lies spread out at the bottom of the Bhaga valley against the backdrop of imposing hills. Visible through a gap in the hills, is Zanskar, a forbidding world of snow and glaciers.

Colourful prayer flags flutter in the wind and chortens adorn the ridge separating the Chandra and Bhaga valleys. Next to a chorten, a small yellow tin shed serves as a temple. I spot a gaddi perched on a rock from where he can keep an eye on his flock that is somewhere below. He throws a remark at me - "so you have reached" and offers me a slice of fruit that he is eating. My ascent must have appeared to him excruciatingly slow.

Shikar Beh and Mukar Beh ( both 6000 m +)

Higher up on the ridge, I come across a large group of monks in red. They are students of the Tibetan School of Medicine in Sarnath belonging to different Himalayan geographies - Nepal, Sikkim, Bhutan and Ladakh – here on an excursion. I did not run into them so far as they left Keylong much earlier than me.

It is an easy descent into the Chandra valley and in a couple of hours I reach the Manali - Leh highway. A bus takes me along the Chandra downstream to its confluence with the Bhaga and then along the Bhaga upstream to Keylong. I head straight for the comforts of the Pau Gomba Sanju Dhaba. Pasang Dolma is not surprised to hear that I completed the kora - "he walks fast", she tells her co-workers.

Pasang is ethnically Tibetan like many Lahoulis and I have assumed that she is Lahouli too. In conversation, I discover that she belongs to Nepal, to the village of Listi near the Chinese border. So does her assistant. Their village is known for the Pau Gompa and they have named their dhaba after it. Who is there in the village, I ask her. My son and my in-laws, Pasang replies. 'Sab kuch hai ghar me – makaan, kheti, gaadi’.

Pasan Dolma (center)

Pasang is familiar with Delhi and this intrigues me. With more questions I uncover the amazing seasonal migration of this family. With the coming of winter before the road to Keylong becomes snow bound, they move to Delhi to carry on a different trade - selling Nepali woollens. When winter is over, they return home to Nepal. (There is even a direct bus service from Majnu ka tila where they live while in Delhi to their village, Listi!) Come summer, when the Manali - Leh road opens, they are back in Keylong running the dhaba. I ask the family if they ever take a holiday and get a short retort - ours is not a government job!

It is time for me to leave Keylong and I stop by at the dhaba one last time. Pasang Dolma asks me to visit again. I am not being just polite when I tell her I will.

Deepavali in Naggar - Nov 2012

(This was published in EPW Sept 12, 2015 Issue ... reproduced below with photos)

Deepavali is only a few days away and the uppermost thought in my mind is to get away from home. For home is a teeming metropolis given to an orgy of uncivilised celebration, assaulting the senses, poisoning the air and making the vulnerable sick. 

Hurtling through the night in a volvo, I manage to put enough distance behind me. The morning finds me in a local bus making its way up slowly on a winding road on the left bank of the Beas.

Naggar

The Kulu valley is just a few km wide here with hills rising steeply on either side. The flat area near the river and the lower hill sides are dotted with habitations. Apple orchards fill the open spaces, the trees in their winter form, bare and leafless.

In an hour or so we reach a busy market place. The village of Naggar is located up a hill a short walk from here. Naggar will be my refuge for the next few days. A road heads upwards with many switch backs. I lumber along with my backpack. Near the top, 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. The room is cold but the sun splashed balcony perfect. I can spend the days here easily doing nothing. 

But Naggar is not without other attractions.

The Castle

 Dominating the village is a dignified old rectangular structure, made entirely of wood and stone, grandiosely named ‘The Castle’. Once the palace of a Kulu Chieftain, it was appropriated by the colonial administration and is now a state run hotel with beautiful views and expensive rooms.

The courtyard of the ‘Castle’ contains a pretty little temple - known by the name Jagatipatt - that houses only a stone slab with a special significance. The courtyard and temple are deserted today, but in a few days I will have occasion to see the place again in a different light.

Just a little further on the winding mountain road going past the village is an art gallery, once the home of the renowned Russian painter Nicholas Roerich. I spend an interesting afternoon immersed in paintings of Himalayan landscapes and peoples.

The temple in Rumsu

The same road continues its way up to the ancient village of Rumsu which has well preserved structures built in traditional style. I thoroughly enjoy a morning visit to Rumsu.

A steep cemented staircase leading off the road provides a shorter path to the village. As I gain height, the distant brown hills take on a golden hue in the morning sun. The air is filled with birdsong. A school boy races down past me. It is 7.30 in the morning and people are already out working – collecting hay for their horses and cattle, laying out the golden corn cobs on their roofs to dry in the sun. I pass the village temple, a beautiful tall structure of wood and stone and then reach the main square, a large open space with more old temples. At the other end of the village there is an area fenced off with a small shrine in its midst and a sign warning people against entering for the devtas reside here.

 Deepavali day arrives. Stepping out for a morning walk, I see a group of men in traditional Kulu caps collecting at the Castle entrance. The sound of drums and trumpets emanates from within. There is perceptible excitement in the air. I decide to join the group.

The Jagatipatt temple in the courtyard is the centre of the action. The courtyard fills up rapidly. I learn that a visiting devi – accommodated in the temple overnight - will now depart. It is a very special occasion for the people of Naggar. This devi has come here after 370 years!

An elaborate ritual is now played out.

A band of musicians with long curved trumpets and large drums stand facing the temple, playing their instruments. The palki 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 strongly built young men. Village elders gather around.

An elder takes up a litany in Kului; the crowd supports 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, indicating the devi’s wish. Other elders take their turns, pleading. The crowd is sombre, 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, it appears, has come.

Young men bearing flags lead the way out followed by the musicians. Then comes the palki escorted out by the people from Naggar. The procession, perhaps a hundred strong, marches swiftly downhill. I join in, revelling in the energy of the crowd.

The marchers are warm and friendly, recognizing me as an outsider. I am invited to come with them all the way. That is when I learn that they are on a really long march. The destination for the day is Kullu, 25 km away! The devi will reach her final abode in the mountains only tomorrow and she has already been travelling for 8 days!

At the next village on the route, I bid goodbye to my fellow marchers and take a bus back to Naggar. The walk to my room takes me past houses decorated with pleasing arrangements of leaves and flowers. It promises to be a beautiful Deepavali day.

The Gompa circuit - The Kora of Drilbu Ri

The Kora of Drilbu Ri

Aug 13:

Last evening, at an internet cafe, I learn about what is possibly the best trek around Keylong - the kora ( parikrama) of Drilbu Ri (Bell Mountain). Drilbu Ri is holy for both Buddhists and Hindus and the kora is undertaken by people of both religions.

It is 7.30 by the time I have swallowed a parotha and packed a lunch of  boiled eggs, juice and fruit. According to the proprietor at my favorite dhaba, I am late. People usually leave for the kora by 5 am. She comfortingly adds that I walk fast - so I should be able to complete it by evening.

I start at a smart pace retracing the path I had taken a few days back down to the bridge over the Bhaga (2900 m). Then comes the steep ascent to Khardang. A boy in school uniform trots down the path. He is from Barbog village, located somewhat higher than the gompa. He tells me he  has done the kora twice. A group has left on the Kora from his village even today. More school children run by, this time belonging to Khardang village.

Drilbu RI from near Khardang village

I walk past the habitat of several nuns above the gompa and seek directions from a monk sitting on a rooftop. He tells me that a group has gone up a while back and points to the foot path that takes off from the road near a spring just beyond the gompa.  I fill water from the spring and try desperately to capture on my lens the sparrow sized birds - Fire Fronted Serin, it turns out - that flit about near the water body, finally managing a couple of half decent images. It is 9.30 by the time I hit the path.

The ramparts of the fortress like Drilbu Ri loom above. A thread of white beads visible on a sheer face of the mountain is resolved as a line of sheep making its way up when I zoom in on it with my camera. But that is not the path for ordinary humans - only gaddis can follow their sheep up such steep rock. Wild flowers cover the grassy flanks of the mountain in pink hues. Far below, the Bhaga is visible meandering from Jispa. Clouds and hills produce strange patterns of light and shadow.

I periodically measure my altitude using the GPS on my mobile. I know that the pass is at 4400 m and my altitude will tell me how much I still have to climb. At 10.30, I reach a clearing at 3700 m. At 11, I am standing on a ledge over a sheer drop at 3800 m.

First sight of prayer flags on the pass

The path is overall well marked, with prayer flags at intervals, signs painted on rocks and stone piles - cairns - marking the way. However, at one point, the signs are confusing and I make a choice. It turns out to be a wrong choice as I realize after some time. I have taken a goat path which just traverses the mountain and at some point fizzles out. I retrace and eventually find the right path which heads up the mountain

By 12, I am at 4030 m. The only person I have seen after leaving Khardang is a an old man mumbling prayers and counting beads going down. He is engrossed in his prayers and does not look at me. I am just beginning to get a bit anxious. It is nearly 5 hrs since I started the trek. The trek down - if I have to return the way I came - is going to be tougher as the path is steep and slippery in many places with loose gravel and dust. At 12.30, at 4170 m , I spot the prayer flags marking the pass directly above me. Self doubts vanish and I feel a new burst of energy. I gain a new appreciation of the importance of prayer flags and cairns marking the passes for travellers.

Rangcha Gali (4380 m)

There is still a stiff  climb ahead before I reach the chortens and prayer flags at Rangcha Gali. My altimeter shows 4380 m and it is a quarter past one. I have gained nearly 1.5 km height from the time I walked on the bridge over the Bhaga!

Shikar Beh (right) and Muker Beh

I sit down and feast my eyes over the panorama across the pass - the majestic Pir Panjal range in the clouds and the Chandra snaking its way west far below, a village with colorful rooftops on the flat lands above its banks.  The magnificent 6000+ m peaks, Shikar Beh and Mukar Beh stand directly ahead, abruptly falling to the banks of the Chandra at 3000 m. To their west, a giant glacier descends from the clouds.

The ridge extends up from the Gali to the west towards the sky in waves. Higher up on the ridge, a large group of men, young and old, all in red robes are just winding up after their lunch break and preparing to leave. Prayer flags and chortens adorn a portion of the ridge. A small tin shed painted yellow houses a temple besides a chorten.

Can you spot Keylong?

I pause to take in the view on the northern side of the pass, the side from which I came up. One can see all the way up  from Keylong spread at the foot of the valley to the imposing hills guarding it to the north and through a gap in the hills, a forbidding land of snow and glaciers. Towards the east, the Bhaga appears as a silver ribbon until it is hidden by a bend in the valley.

A Gaddi in typical dress is sitting on a rock sharing an apple carefully skinned and diced with another man and keeping an eye on his flock somewhere below. He remarks - "you have reached" and offers me a slice. He has been witness to what must seem to him an excruciatingly slow ascent.

The group in red start their descent towards the Chandra valley. It is somewhat late in the day for the mountains and I do not want to struggle with finding the path downward. I start my descent keeping the group in sight. The path down is far easier to negotiate than the path up.

From one of group, I learn that they are students of the Tibetan School of Medicine in Sarnath, Bihar. They come from many places - Nepal, Sikkim, Bhutan and Ladakh - and are here on an excursion and are doing the Kora today guided by a local monk who knows the way. Some of them are feeling the effects of altitude and that accounts for their slow pace - they started from Keylong at 5 am.

I follow a well marked trail - ever clearer as it is dotted with the red - till I reach the first fields of potato at 3500 m. In another half hour, I reach the highway at a point one km above the village of Gondla. The descent has taken just 2 hours.

Fields of cabbage and potato at 3500 m

Then follows a long wait for a lift at a puncture repair shop on the dusty Manali - Leh highway. I start talking to an army javan from Rajasthan who is getting his truck tires fixed. His unit has been transferred from somewhere in Haryana to the Chushul border with China. After a lot of searching questions about why and how I manage to trek alone in these parts, he agrees to give me a lift in his truck. Over a short ride he warms up to me and we part with a strong handshake. A bus ride takes me along the Chandra downstream to Tandi (where Chandra and Bhaga meet to become the Chandrabhaga) and then follows the Bhaga upstream to Keylong. Thus I complete my Kora.

Back in Keylong, I stop at my favorite Pau Gomba Sanju dhaba. The proprietor is a Pasang Dolma who is a Buddhist with Tibetan features similar to most locals of Keylong but belongs to Nepal. She runs the dhaba with her two sisters Jyoti and Sangmu and a Nepali man, Subhash. All of them belong to the village of Listi near the Chinese border which is famous for the Pau Gompa - hence the name of their dhaba. Pasang Dolma is not surprised that I am back - "He walks fast", she tells the others.

Fields above Gondla

Over several days, I have observed the dhaba and its workers/proprietors. The dhaba remains open from 6.30 in the morning to 10.30 at night. The food is cooked right in front of the tables where it is served. Pasang and Subhash do the main cooking while the two younger sisters help out. The food is tasty and fresh, the price reasonable, and the dhaba does a roaring business. The sisters take turns to go home and freshen up. The only time I see them relaxing is in the hours between lunch and dinner when business is slack. They sit around a table and munch some snacks.  Despite the grueling hours, Pasang Dolma seems always cheerful and keeps up a friendly banter with the numerous locals who visit the dhaba. It is hard to imagine that she is not a local.

Subhash, Pasang Dolma and Jyoti Dolma

One day in casual conversation I gather that Pasang is familiar with Delhi. On further probing I learn that Pasang spends the period from November to Feb in Delhi and runs a shop selling woolens from Nepal at a market near Lal Quila. She rents a place in the Tibetan colony in Majnu ka Tilla for this period. Post Delhi winter, she travels to her home in Nepal near the Chinese border. There are so may people from that area in Delhi that a direct bus runs from Majnu ka Tila to the area of her village in Nepal. Her son and in-laws live at their village in Nepal. She says she has land, house, vehicle - 'sab kuch hai ghar me'. In June she is back to Keylong renting the same place to run the dhaba and a dormitory. This is her annual routine. I ask the family if they ever take a holiday. The answer is - ours is not a government job that we can take a holiday. We have to work for our livelihood.

As I leave Keylong, my thoughts are centered on Pasang Dolma. Undoubtedly, here is a woman of substance. A Tibetan by religion and culture and a Nepali by citizenship, her livelihood is entirely in India. She, and countless others like her, seem to straddle these different identities with ease.

More treks around Keylong are described in my previous post The Gompa circuit: Small treks around Keylong

Himalayan Trek 14, Aug 2015

The trek to Chandranahan - June 2014

The Pabbar near Sandasu

The Pabbar river, a tributary of the Tons and eventually of the Yamuna originates in a range of the lesser Himalayas known as Gangdari Dhar. 

I had spent several days at the government guest house in Sandasu along the Pabbar river waiting for my trekking companions to turn up, keeping myself fit with long walks. A day before our planned meeting I was informed that the trek had been cancelled. 

I decided to explore Pabbar valley on my own. At the dhaba across from the guest house I learnt that it was possible to trek up the Pabbar valley to Chandra Nahan, a series of lakes that fed the Pabbar river. Guides (usually shepherds) could be found in Janglik, the last habitation on the Pabbar. I made a plan to visit Janglik the next day. What follows is the record from my diary.

6th June: Sandasu - Tangnu - Janglik - Sandasu

View from Tangnu

My day starts with morning walk of 4 km followed by chai and breakfast of alu offered by the Lala at the dhaba opposite Sandasu government guest house. I catch the 8.30 bus to Dhamwari. Reaching Dhamwari, I find that I have just missed the shared taxi to Tangnu. I start walking on the Tangnu road in the company of a Rohru resident who is heading for a job interview at the hydro project upstream.

After walking 2 or 3 km, we get a lift in a jeep. We pass a dam site with construction in progress. Retaining walls along the side have collapsed - I learn during the floods of last year. This is a mini hydel project - 2*25 MW, one of many along the Pabbar and its tributaries. Construction seems lackadaisical - there are few workers to be seen, structures are incomplete and rubble strewn around the sites with none of the original greenery left. Metal roads have been turned into dusty tracks exposing road users to a constant cloud of dust.

Tangnu and its fields

The jeep drops me in Tangnu, a sleepy village with a single shop. I learn that guides to Chandranahan will be found only in Janglik. The shop keeper informs me of a shortcut to reach the place if I am walking.

Janglik is on the right bank of the Pabbar like Tangnu, but separated by a deep chasm created by a tributary of the Pabbar, the Supin Khad. The road to Janglik winds down from Tangnu to bridge the chasm and then rises again. The short cut I take cuts through paddy fields to the bridge. On the other side, the road has turned to mud and rubble from the movement of heavy equipment. There is a dust haze over a barren area with warning signs and heavy earth working machinery. The Pabbar lies to the right. The road ascends a steep hill to the left to Janglik village.

Rubble on the banks of the Pabbar at Janglik

Village temple, Janglik

The entire hillside has been taken over by the hydroelectric project to house workers  and equipment. The project goes by the name of Tangnu Dhamwari (Romai) hydel project executed by the Tangnu Romai Power Generation Pvt Ltd. ( apparently a special purpose vehicle of PCP International Ltd and the NSL group). It is one of the many projects coming up on the Pabbar river. 

The waters of the Supin Khad are diverted into a tunnel three km upstream of its junction with the Pabbar. The tunnel goes through the hill on which Janglik village is located and deposits the waters of the Supin Khad into the Pabbar a little upstream of the natural confluence of the two, where a barrage dams the waters of the two rivers.

It is extremely unpleasant walking on the dusty road under a hot sun up the hill. I find shortcuts used by the workers and scramble up till I reach what is presumably a canteen for project workers. Here I find a Janglik villager who is prepared to take me to Chandranahan the next day. We settle on his fee and the logistics for the trip after which he takes me on a tour of the village.

My guide, Shish Kumar has some sort of casual employment at the project - he claims to be a supervisor of a work gang earning Rs 12000-15000 a month. He is willing to absent himself without giving notice to go with me. At his home I meet his wife and his 80 year old father who is wrinkled beyond imagination. Waiting for the lunch - khichidi - to be prepared, I have some time to get acquainted with Shish Kumar.

View from the road near Tangnu

Janglik school has only one teacher. Shish Kumar prefers to send his children to a private school and they stay with their aunt away from the village. He does not get much income from his land - the apple trees are only 10 years old and not mature and the condition of the roads makes it difficult to transport and sell cash crops like potato and onion. So these are mostly consumed locally. Shish's ancestors are shepherds and he still owns a large flock though he has outsourced its care.

One end of Janglik

What does he think of the project, I ask Shish Kumar. Good and bad, he says. Good because there is some employment. Bad because drilling disturbs the water table, the cattle, and causes other damage. I ask him if he has already experienced problems. He says not yet, but is convinced it will happen.

In spite of maintaining a brisk pace and using all available shortcuts, I miss the 2.30 bus out of Tangnu. After walking a bit, I get a lift in a jeep that acts as a school ferry, transporting teachers from a school near Tangnu back home closer to Rohru. Two women police constables board the jeep. They have been recently posted from Mandi to the project area. Smartly dressed, confident, bright, they hold their own among the male government officials in the jeep. The main problems they have to deal with, I learn, are fights between workers and stealing of company property.

Shish Kumars House, Janglik

7th June: Sandasu - Chirgaon - Sandasu - Tangnu - Janglik

It is a slow day. I walk to Chirgaon and do some shopping in preparation for the next days trek. That evening, I return to Janglik and stay the night with Shish in his 2 story wooden house. He has arranged a sleeping bag for me that we will carry. Hiring a tent turns out to be very expensive, so we plan to stay in shepherd shelters.

8th June: Janglik (9300 ft) to Litham Thatch (11600 ft)

We start our trek from Janglik at 5.30 am catching the trail above the village. The first part of the walk is through a forest of kail (Pine). Breakfast stop is at 7 am by which time we are at 10000 ft. We reach a meadow at 11000 ft named Dayara at 9.45.

Dayara

A group of shepherds are gathered around a fire and Shish heads straight for them. He explains that we should meet them as we will be staying at their camp in Litham Thatch that night. We approach warily watching the sheep dogs that have sounded  the alarm. 

Shepherds camp at Dayara

Getting closer, I see that a ram has been killed and its entrails are being cooked. The main meat pieces are being dried in the sun. The earth around is soaked with blood. We are invited to join in the meal. A plateful of liver, probably the best part of the meat that has been cooked, is handed to me. The others - Shish included - eat up all the entrails with great relish. After the meal, the main hunks of meat are packed in a gunny bag to be taken back to the village and the camp disbanded.

We resume our walk. Further ahead, looking up into the Pabbar valley, Shish points out the Gunas pass - a flat top towards the right. Buran pass is hidden by a turn the valley takes to the left. By 1.45pm, we are at another meadow named Litham Thatch (3550m). This is our destination for the day.

We sit down in front of a shelter where we are joined by a couple of  shepherds. The shelter is made entirely of flat stones piled one on top of another without the use of any cementing material. We take out our packed lunch - boiled eggs and roti with egg bujiya, sharing it with the others.

First view of Gunas pass

I walk around and explore Litham and investigate the water source, an underground spring on the edge of a steep slope. The sheep dogs we first saw in Dayara first arrive, later followed by the sheep. We also have some visitors - shepherds who are just back from Sangla. They have just taken the first flock of sheep this season over the Buran pass to Kinnaur. The sheep tramping in line over the snow have opened up a route over the pass. According to them, the pass can be crossed starting from Litham in a day provided we start early. 

I am tempted to attempt the pass the next day. A major part of my luggage is still in Shish's place in Janglik. But there is a solution for that - the shepherd who has come from Sangla is heading for Janglik anyway. He is willing to go there and come back with my bag in time for us to leave next morning. He is also willing to guide us over the pass and carry my bag over, though he will not come all the way to Sangla.

View of Gunas pass from Litham

Unfortunately, negotiations with Shish on payment for the extra days required for crossing the pass fall through. He wants to be payed his daily guide fees not only till the trek ends in Sangla but also for the days he will be in transit from Sangla to Janglik via Rampur and Rohru. In addition, he wants his hotel stay and bus fare covered.

Soon it is time to prepare dinner. For the shepherds, it is going to be chapati and a curry made from the brain of the sheep that was slaughtered earlier. I am content with a tasteless khichidi that Shish cooks for me using one of the few vessels that the shepherds possess. I have to quickly eat it up as the same vessel will be used for making the brain curry. The head of the sheep is placed over the fire to remove the skin and hair. The skull is then smashed into small pieces and thrown into a broth.

As the evening progresses, there is a strong bitterly cold breeze blowing and I am chilled to the bone. The shepherds see me shivering and give me a blanket to cover myself. The breeze apparently starts up the same time every evening but thankfully subsides after a while. Otherwise I would be frozen stiff tonight.

The shelter at Litham

It is time to gather the sheep around the shelter. A new born kid - just 5 days old - has been carried by the shepherds and has been bleating for its mother. It cannot as yet walk and is roughly handled by the senior shepherd and left abandoned near the camp all day. Towards evening, it is used as a bait to get milk from its mother. A shepherd carries the kid towards the flock to draw its mothers attention and then heads back. The mother follows him, is promptly tied up and milked. It is a hard life for the kid!

The rotis are cooked on a fire inside the shelter. A fat lump of dough is patted down by hand and baked over the fire for the oldest dog, a 14 year old and wearing a jagged metal collar as protection against wild cats. 

I am informed that he is very fierce and readily takes on wild animals - he has been mauled once by a big cat. The other dogs are just given lumps of uncooked dough - they are fit and can digest it. The shepherds then set upon the brain curry, leaving the chewed up bones for the dogs.

Dinner over, I slip into my sleeping bag. The others - Shish and two shepherds - share a huge blanket. One of them is a old man - perhaps over 60 years. He has been doing the cooking. The other is a tall and handsome young man - Prem I will call him - who has been spending time with the sheep all evening. (Prem was actually his brothers name. I met him while walking from Tangnu to Janglik)

Long shot of Chandranahan waterfall from Litham

Prem, it tuns out has been with other trekkers before and has undergone some sort of training in trekking. We converse easily into the night while Shish keeps up a conversation in the local dialect with the older shepherd.

There are exactly 865 sheep in his flock, and  four shepherds are taking care of them. Two have gone back to Janglik for a rest, while Prem and his elder companion remain with the herd. Every few days, there is a change of hands and another batch of four shepherds will replace them. The sheep belong to various families in the village. About 40, if I remember right, belong to Shish kumar. The flock under their care consists of both sheep and goats. 

Looking up towards Chadranahan  from up closer

Sheep eat grass while goats chew on brambles. So they are taken to different spots for grazing. At night, the sheep are brought into a small circle near the campsite to sleep with the sheepdogs on watch. There are 4 sheepdogs with this group. I am assured that they will attack any intruder who tries to take away the sheep. The sheep are marked so that the owners in the village can identify them.

I learn that the sheep spend the summer in these high altitude pastures, moving from pasture to pasture every few days when the available fodder gets exhausted.. Villages have their own reserved pastures.The winter grazing grounds are in the foothills. So there is an yearly migration. Around Oct 15 to 20, they start on a trek to Paonta Sahib via Khara Patthar. The journey takes 30 to 35 days. A permit is needed for grazing in the forests of Nahan near Paonta Sahib. The permit costs 30-40 p/cattle and 70 p/sheep.

Half way up to the waterfall

9th June: Litham thatch (3550 m) - Chandranahan (3950 m) - Litham

After a breakfast of maggie, we start the trek towards Chandranahan at 6.30 am. My relations with Shish are frosty after yesterdays failed negotiations. 

It is a steep climb alongside a frozen stream. Our target is the head of a water fall visible from Litham thatch. We make our way up skirting the hard snow but are forced by the topography to cross the steep frozen surface several times. During one crossing, I slip and just manage to dig in my trekking pole into the snow to provide an anchor. It is 9 am when we reach the head of the waterfall, marked by prayer stones. We have climbed to about 3950 m.

Litham from the head of the fall

Beyond the waterfall, we reach a sort of level ground with high peaks on either side and at the far end. Chandranahan is supposed to be a system of seven lakes extending over a km, fed by an underground spring. I can imagine where the lakes could be located. But right now, all I can see is a frozen landscape. The stream leading from the lakes to the water fall is visible as flowing water only near the fall. Upstream it disappears under hard snow. 

Sheesh informs me that beyond this point, according to local custom, we cannot proceed wearing leather shoes. It is out of the question to walk on the ice without footwear. I am inclined to believe that Shish is making things up a bit. I am aware that local custom prohibits leather articles at Chandranahan, but it seems to me that we are still some distance

Chandranahan ?

from the lakes. Anyhow, I decide to humor Sheesh and return; inwardly I am fuming. By 10 am, we are back at the shelter. Sheesh tells me stories of the misfortunes that have befallen people who have violated the 'no leather' code at Chandranahan including being pelted by massive hailstones and meeting with various accidents. The elder shepherd at the camp agrees with Sheesh and adds his own stories.

Litham - evening view

Litham - Janglik

I take leave of the elder shepherd - Prem is away with the flock - and we start on the return journey. After a while, I hear loud hailing from a height over the trail and see Prem running down the mountain slope towards us slithering and sliding away but without reducing his speed. We bid goodbye to each other promising to meet in Janglik that night. Prem then runs back uphill with boundless energy to return to his flock. 

Dayara - another view

The return trek should have been easy, but turns out to be tortuous. The sole of one shoe of mine comes apart. I am carrying a shoe glue ... I stop by a pile of snow to clean the surfaces and apply the glue. The shoe holds for a while and then gives way again. After several such attempts, I finally give up and pack the sole in by backpack.

The morning climb to Chandranahan has tired me. The broken shoe does not help and my pace - though we are loosing height - is poor. We reach Janglik towards evening - 6 pm , 7 hrs into the trek. I am exhausted and stretch out on the boundary wall of Sheesh Kumar's house. He has work to attend to before he can get down to making our dinner. He has a couple of small gardens with vegetables adjoining his house and these need to be watered.

Janglik - another view

10th June: Janglik - Tangnu - Rohru - Rampur

I get up at 5 and go for a 'morning walk' with Sheesh. Only one or two houses in the village have toilets - the rest use a patch of forest beyond the village. I leave Janglik at 6 and reach the bus stop at Tangnu by 7.10 after a vigorous walk. By 10.15, I am at Rohru, have lunch at a dhaba and catch the 12.30 bus to Rampur. That evening, after taking up a room at the Rampur bus stand, I attend to the most pressing task on hand - getting my shoe resoled!

Himalayan Trek 11, June 2014