My Travels – Page 2 – TRAVELTRUNK.NET

November 11, 2022November 11, 2022

Along the Lohit on the Long Road to Walong

To cross over to Tibet from India one envisages traversing across snow bound passes. Nigh impossible in most seasons. But there is one all-weather pass which the Chinese used in the ’62 war for entering India to reach Walong. It was a maw so fiercely defended they called it the Tiger’s Mouth. Here in the eastern most Indian valley of Namti, the Himalayas part for the gushing, rushing Lohit. To call it a mere tributary of the mighty Brahmaputra is an exercise in semantics. There is nothing mere about the ferocious and unforgiving waters, cradled by steep ranges, covered in a canopy of evergreen forests constantly being fed by the rains and rivulets. Into this fecund land of excesses we take a driving holiday.

We have waited for the monsoon to retire but well into October and it seems to be on climate change steroids. And now cyclone Sitrang is heading our way so between Mechuka (where no flight will go for the next 2 weeks), Dzukou (trekking in the rain is not my idea of fun) and Walong, the safest(haha…!) bet is to sit dry in a vehicle and drive!

Tezu: A Foot in the Hills
There is a light drizzle when we start and it keeps company through the day. The pot-holed bypass of Tinsukia is familiar till we take a better option through Makum. Crossing into Arunachal sees a dramatic improvement and we breeze past Kongmu Kham or the Golden Pagoda where expansion work is on in earnest. The Lohit before Tezu is a latte coloured meandering mass. We hit the hills in the quickly fading light post lunch at Tezu, a little town wedged between the hills and the river where the silversmiths are masters of upscaling (much before it was even a word) silver coins from all over the country into tribal jewellery for the Mishmi tribe whose land this is.

Read about intrepid merchants in-Bikaner’s Merchants and Their Mansions

The road narrows as the foliage gives no quarter. Looking at the transmission line climbing up the steep slope past a rock face makes me wonder for the nth time how is it laid! The jungle camouflages the road entirely as we make our way past that rock face in a bit! A newer, more level road is being constructed around the hill but it is pretty much still a dirt track with umpteen slips. So we climb up and down the looping road through Hawa Pass in the dark. Although its just about 5 in the evening, night has fallen with a strange ambient glow. The black hills are silhouetted against a charcoal grey sky as white clouds float in the valley.

We cross Tidding bridge on its namesake river and climbing up on a broken village road masquerading as a highway we hit truck traffic! Very soon it is no more than a slushy track when suddenly a landslide halts us. A boulder has landed in the middle of the road. In the dark the only sound is of running water on the slope bringing more stones clattering down. Heavy duty machinery swings into rescue and a short walk across a mound of sliding silt and a change of vehicle has us in Hayuliang warming up with a brandy in hand as the rain now drums on the roof.

Travel on a better road lesser explored in –At the Darwaza of a Road Less Travelled

So long Hayuliang
As we start for Walong Sitrang swirls around gently the next morning too, making the little overgrown village of Hayuliang a blur. While we wait for another landslide to be cleared, standing in the drizzle, we watch the river froth over gentle rapids at a bend where trees dip their green fingertips into the water. The clouds are constantly on the move. Skimming the water, wafting through the trees.

The road here onwards is a dream run mostly. Only at Moody nala we come to a screeching halt. The bridge is not yet complete and Moody nala is in snitty spate. A change of vehicles into a higher 4/4 and we plunge into the teapot tempest. My latent ostrichness come to the fore and I shut my eyes and start praying. I had been willing to walk across the very short bridge!

Vehicle and driver prevail but not before I glimpse almost half the vehicle submerged in rushing, swirling water! The rest of the way to Walong is on a gentle road along the river through ranges covered with thick tropical forest and peaks lost in the clouds.

Explore-Mandu and Maheshwar in the Monsoon Mist

On steep slopes, houses of thatched bamboo pop up now and then, with signs of ‘slash and burn’ cultivation around. Swaying footbridges connect the two banks. We see a magnificent specimen of a Mithun, the prize possession of the Mishmi tribals. Ramshackle wooden shops line the road now and then, their window sills bare of wares and then just as suddenly from one hill to the next, the deep evergreens give way to a reddish brown burnt slope of pine and grass. The range curves and the valley widens into a bowl with Walong on a side.

Walong is a Grove of…
Walong meaning a place of bamboo groves in Mishmi still looks like a big village… with groves of unripe oranges trees and an airstrip! A memorial at one end of town on the road reminds us of the battle for Walong. The Chinese came over the mountains into the valley since they could not make their way along the Lohit.

We drive up 18 km after lunch to Helmet Post, site of a fierce battle where till years later clothing and battle gear still emerge in the thick undergrowth. We startle a family of pheasants out for an early supper into flight. Across the valley the rising clouds thinly thread through tall pines. Nobody has seen much wildlife around. Frankly speaking when every inch of land is covered in foliage, if it didn’t want to meet you, you wouldn’t even know its there…

Kaho in a Corner
In the land of sagging, swaying bridges we walk across the biggest one to Dong village the next morning…aptly called MSB or Mule Suspension Bridge. If it can take a mule it can take me….The FSBs I refuse to put a foot on! Dong village, comprising all of five to seven huts from what I can see, is famous because a small meadow on a nearby hill called Upper Dong is where the sun’s rays first fall in India.

Where do you come from, where do you go?

From there it is a drive under hidden waterfalls and across the ripening mellow yellow fields of Meshai village to reach Kaho. India’s easternmost village is inhabited by the Buddhist Meyor tribe, now divided between two countries. We meet the Gaon Burra or village head and a few other villagers at the simple temple on one end of the village. Other than a lack of educational opportunities they seem a contented lot. The GB proudly shows us his homestay. A simple long wooden house with bright geraniums lining the veranda. He will find many takers…we crossed quite a few soaked bikers. At the far end of the village disappearing into the trees are white flags…prayers in the wind for departed souls. Across the Lohit a sheer rock face seems to have a road running across..can’t be…

Another border village and unforgettable river-Chushul &Chumathang – Hello Indus & Iridescent Colours!

Watch out at Wacha
We are crossing that rock face and I have my heart in my mouth again as I look down the sheer fall into the river below. The drivers by now have my vote though. We reach the BPM (Border Post Meeting) ‘hut’ at Wacha. Its like a fancy resort… I go to the loo.. It is a fancy resort! This is where the Chinese and Indians wine, dine and show their cultural prowess during their border meets. Its a complex of AC conference halls and glass huts etal under pine trees beside the Lohit. A lone soldier keeps vigil by the river, oblivious to the never ending drizzle.

Kibithu’s Cookies Melt in the Mouth
After a night at Kibithu, a tiny hamlet of wooden huts perched on a flattish hill with a bird’s eye view of pristine waterfalls and on a clear day of a long TAR valley we make an early start back. Not before we visit the bakery run by local women. They’ve been helped by the army and trained by an NGO from Pune. We find fresh faces offering fresher coconut cookies and chocolate muffins for the journey back.

The long drive back is without hiccups. At Namti an Eurasian Krestel chases a pair of tiny birds into the pines ringing the ‘plains’. The window sills of the shops enroute are now stacked with pineapples and the wizened old lady I had glimpsed earlier with a silver pipe has vacated her chair outside a hut for a younger, cigarettes smoking woman. Men on bikes whiz by sporting traditional waistcoats armed with dahs, a common accessory, sometimes even a rifle. A Mithun now and then lumbers across the road. Tiny goats in an inflated sense of self doze in the middle of the now dry road. The clouds are lifting and the sun warms the wings of giant black butterflies with flashes of blue and red. The Lohit bends one last mountain before leaving for the plains, stretching its arms wide….

Fact File–

Distance- Its approx 363 kms from Dibrugarh to Walong.

Hayuliang to Hawai is 56kms.

Staying- Hayuliang has one odd very run down hotel. It is better to stay at Hawai, the district HQ. It has a Circuit House and an old Inspection Bungalow.

Walong- Has a PWD IB and a few basic homestays.

Tilam about 5 kms ahead of Walong has a Government tourist lodge. It has a hot spring nearby too.

Kaho- The Gaon Burra has a simple homestay with a bedroom and dormitory. Its on a first come first serve basis till now.

Coverage-

The mobile coverage is very patchy ahead of Tidding bridge. There is no mobile coverage ahead of Hayuliang. Infact your phone timing will jump about 2 hours!

Discover-Disconnecting with the World on a Mountain Isle at Shaama

September 25, 2022September 25, 2022

Discovering Digboi’s 3 Must-Dos

The pachyderms with their famed elephantine memory won’t be thanking one of their own anytime soon in Digboi, if the local lore is to be believed. It goes that sometime in the 1860s, out of the steaming jungles at the foothills of the Patkai Mountains emerged an elephant, its leg wet with mud mixed with traces of oil. An observant employee of the Assam Railway and Trading Co pounced on the prospect of black gold. Soon the labourers were being exhorted to ‘dig-boy-dig’…and the rest is history…

Assam is what I call river country. It is also tea country and what a lot of us forget the original oil country. The first mention of oil here was made by army officers and geological surveyors way back in the 1820s. It seemed to seep out and mix in the waters of the Dihing River. Within years of the first oil well being dug in 1859 in the USA and decades before the sheikh’s of the Middle East’s desert discovered their wishing wells, the first oil well was hand dug in Digboi. Making it not only India’s oldest but Asia’s first oil well. Its to this oil town nestled on the fringes and mounds of tropical forests, the traditional elephant corridors now cut off by walls that we headed to.

Read about Rajasthan’s wells in- Harlequin Holi at Todaraisingh

Verdant Valley Burns Bright

Stormy clouds follow on our heels as we drive to Digboi through a flat valley. The wind blows every shade of green around us. The bamboos creak and bend, the paddy fields flatten out and streams ripple as the water is hurried along. The locals here are accused of being laid back. A passing sight paints a complete picture- In front of a neat little thatched hut is a pond with ducks grooming themselves. A small lush paddy field is lined with slender areca nut trees. What more does a man need? A little distance ahead a strange vision appears in a vast field…a fire rages in a brick house with no roof. I doubt any roof would survive that blaze! (On the way back we see a drilling rig parked nearby.)The open fields end as we hit the small town of Digboi, it’s center dominated by the curving high walls of India’s oldest continuously running oil refinery since 1901. A road skirts along and on the other side of the road bumpy hillocks rise, covered in thick foliage.

Digboi’s Date with Destiny

I’m not a museum person but I have encountered the most passionate people in museums. Digboi’s Oil Centenary Museum is no exception. The person incharge walks us through the deserted museum lovingly pointing out each archaic piece of machinery on display. He is clearly an Anglophile. (Only to be beaten by the even more passionate incharge of Margerita’s Coal Museum. As far as he was concerned no progress has been made after the Brits left Margerita…ironically named after an Italian queen!)

Hear another queen story when- A Bard Sings a Story in Jhansi

In the museum’s center, life size figures recreate a throwback scene of towering trees, an elephant and a thatched oil well. Bric-a brac of everyday life, pictures of social life, of momentous events and visits, of Joymala- a giant elephant at work, line the walls. Outside apart from machinery and a filling station scene is the 1^st oil well. The smell of oil faintly permeates the air as it seeps from the ground to make rainbows in the puddles of water. A tall narrow pipe behind the trees nearby spews fire…an oil well I suppose. The legacy continues.

A Course Par Excellence

After overeating a dinner which starts with crisp finger sized fish had whole and ends with melt-in-the-mouth caramel custard (The caretaker nodded his head in approval at the choice of pudding. The not-so-secret Anglophile society rules Digboi!) we need an early morning walk. The sun is blazing down even though it is just 7:30 in the morning. (My clock is set at Mirzapur Standard time! Cannot wake up at 5:30..) We stroll down from our guest room at the Patkai Manor crossing similar gorgeous colonial bungalows to the rolling 18-hole green golf course sandwiched between the forested slopes and the rail terminal.

A 3-dimensional emblem of the Assam Oil Co is doing a mock charge at some lovely lilies in a pond near the entrance. After a cart ride through the undulating fairways where flocks of egrets reluctantly take flight to make way (makes me feel like I’m in a Jurassic Park movie!) we have tea in the huge veranda of the Golf Hut. The clouds over the blue Patkai Mountains in front are dissipating in the heat. A traditional elephant corridor to the mountains has literally hit the wall of the rail terminal in front. For the elephants they are mountains too far…. A tree trunk nearby is stained bright orange with lichens thriving in the mugginess of this place. I’m already wilting….

Discover- A Tale of Two Veiled Valleys: Part I- Shangarh’s Meadows are meant for Musing

Vestiges of War

After breakfast and another round of leisurely tea in the deep wooden veranda, which I loathe to leave, we head to the war cemetery just outside town at the edge of the forest. Adjoining it on a mound is a pagoda styled temple. Many graves have been shifted to this place from nearby towns and in the 1950’s the entire graveyard was relocated from its original hillock location.

The cemetery is a small somber affair laid out in perfect symmetry. A square stone arch at the entrance is the only construction. A giant cross stands at the other end and in between, neatly laid down, are rows of gravestones. They tell short stories of soldiers from across continents and religions. Even unknown ones acknowledged in death. Plants grow beside each stone. The Burma campaign during World War II had seen the Allied Forces fighting against the Japanese and sometimes nature, to prevail. The Stilwell Road constructed during World War II to aid the Chinese starts from Ledo near Digboi and it is said to have cost a man a mile to construct.

Read about people- At the Darwaza of a Road Less Travelled

At Digboi, bountiful nature on the surface and from deep within is on show. But it is also where it is starkly obvious that when nature gives it extracts its pound of flesh too, from man and beast alike.

Fact File–

Getting there-

Mohanbari airport at Dibrugarh is appox 65kms.

Tinsukia at about 36 kms is the nearest major rail junction, although trains from Guwahati come to Digboi too.

Staying-

We stayed at the IOC’s Patkai Manor. There are a few small hotels and guest rooms in and around town.

Timings-

1. Digboi War Cemetery-

Summer- 8:00 am – 5:00 pm

Winter- 8:00 am – 4:00 pm

2. Digboi Centenary Oil Museum –

9:00 am – 4:00 pm. Monday closed.

June 28, 2022July 4, 2022

A Tale of Two Veiled Valleys: Part II- Tucked Away in Tirthan

The adjoining valleys of Sainj and Tirthan, named after the rivers that drain them, are part of the Great Himalayan National Park. From Larji a left will take you up the narrow Sainj valley and a right to the bigger, wider Tirthan valley lined with orchards and dotted with scattered hamlets. Our short stay at Shangarh has proved to be worth the horrendous roads. The day hikes, the meditative meandering and just breathing the deodar scented air has us craving for an encore. While the spoon-shaped Sainj valley is still devoid of masses, Tirthan started gaining traction as an ‘off beat’ location about 5 odd years back but now is firmly on the tourist circuit with homestays galore and resorts lining the river ahead of Banjar. Jibhi has trendy cafes and a hippy vibe and the narrow road to Jalori pass has more traffic than it can handle. But tucked up and away in Tirthan Valley, beyond the bustling crowd is the village of Bihar, our second destination.

Our departure from the FRH at Shangarh is tinged with a slight sour taste when I see the caretaker dump, along with our conversations and his assurances on waste disposal, segregation etal, the garbage into a neighbouring stream. Lesson learnt. There is, in all hill stations, a burgeoning mountain of a problem of waste disposal. On that sobering note we drive off with plans to reach our homestay post lunch at Jibhi. We are spoilt for choice but our menu is on default setting… trout it has to be! The gentle drive is along the shallow Tirthan River. Hema, our host has an amused tone when she calls to ask about our whereabouts. (we are a couple of hours late) Maybe she has visions of having to organize another rescue!(She has had her share of barmy guests!)

Another road to discover passes- At the Darwaza of a Road Less Travelled

Beyond the Bustle at Bihar

From Jibhi we backtrack towards Banjar and then climb up on a deserted road winding through a forest, cross the entrance to the Shringa Rishi temple till we reach the end of the road. Janisha, a slight girl with an angelic face and solemn eyes has tagged along with Hema, her equally petite mom to help carry our luggage (I think she has heard of the furry guest) up the last 100 meters or so to their home- Tirthan Eagle Nest.

Hema and I have been connecting over the phone and here we are finally, after many false starts. Perched on the edge of the village, close to the wired trolley going right up to Myaji point, the stone and wood house is set into the slope. It is a home made with much thought and from our room window I can reach out and touch the grass! After tea we head up the path to the tiny village, past wooden sheds stacked with hay on top and with a place for the cattle below.

A homestay seeped in culture is- Dera Jaipur: A Homestay for Stellar Style and Exceptional Experiences

The houses are huddled around a clean paved square, their wooden balconies at an arm’s length from each other. Two old women gossiping on one of these stop briefly to give us a cursory look, children run around in the square and up ahead young women go about their chores around a communal tap. Young girls, their bags laden with school books are heading back to their homes somewhere on the mountainside. They point the way to Chehni Kothi. We can see the tower in the fading light. But don’t have enough daylight left to reach and be back and I’m not up to trapezing on narrow paths in the dark. Smart move!

Leaning tower of Chehni Kothi

Next morning we discover there is no straight route in the mountains to things in plain sight. We walk through flowering apple orchards and houses with wild rose bushes with paths branching up and down the slopes. We finally hit a dirt track just below Chehni village where an enterprising fellow with a tea stall is now constructing a ‘homestay’ with many rooms. He is going to be ready when the hordes drive up….till then there will be days like today when we have the place to ourselves. Two lost and frightened cows attach themselves, literally, to us, scaring me more. Their pretty owner is chatting with a woman making pattu on a hand loom. The square is deserted save a few boys. A woman with a baby tied to her back, has come to fetch water from the community tap.

The Kath-Kuni styled tower of Chehni Kothi, with its debatable antiquity, lost some of its floors in the 1905 earthquake apparently. Yet it dwarfs everything around including the Krishna temple behind and another smaller tower in front. It leans ever so slightly. The staircase to the balcony way above is carved out of a single log of wood. The makers, like sure-footed mountain goats, gave no thought to lesser mortals needing support or width. But then outsiders are not allowed to climb up. (scraping them off the floor would be messy!) The temple with carved wooden balconies looks like a mansion which has seen better days. It’s entrance is through a wooden platform jutting out of the structure. There is a courtyard inside but we can’t find the inner sanctum.

Must see mansions are to be found in – Part Two- What Not to Miss on a Weekend Vacation in Shekhawati

Be Game to Get Lost

From a makeshift eatery we take packed omelets and walk up to Myaji point. This time we stick to the wide dirt track masquerading as a road. It is lined with apple orchards with wild white and pink lilies growing in the shade. We climb into one to follow two women and their cows across the crest with a small wooden shrine and pond. The white peaks of the inner GHNP form a perfect canvas backdrop.

Lunch is followed by a snooze lolling on the grassy slope of an orchard. Its paradise! We rouse ourselves and reluctantly start back with what we think is enough daytime. From the trolley point we see our homestay below and decide to take a shortcut in the general direction of the village. After a promising start we get royally lost. At one point I have to slide down on my backside a few feet. (As opposed to flying face down) A wrong turn to follow a pipeline (has to go to a tap no?) ends in a thicket. Sense prevails; we backtrack and eventually stumble back on to the track going to Bihar. Sweet relief! Hema has thoughtfully made halwa post dinner knowing I have a fast.

Another adventure was- Tarsar Marsar : Memoirs of an Escapade

River Run

Early next morning we take a walk on an under-construction road through the deodar forest patch near the village. A fallen tree is being chopped up by the village men and they carry the logs on their backs up to the village to stock up for a feast coming up. Cultural rooting is still strong here and family functions and festivals are community affairs.

After a hearty breakfast of delicious Siddu drowned in homemade ghee we venture down the mountain to the river. The valley below is overrun with resorts and homestays. We find a deserted stretch where the river cascades over boulders, shimmies into little quiet pools to catch its breath before rushing off again.

Read another river story – Barot and the Serendipitous Catch in the Uhl River

River birds dart around as we chill our feet and drinks in the icy water. Bliss! Later from a hippy café where we lunch we see the sky turn slate grey behind a rugged golden mountainside. Colourful houses at its base make a striking contrast. A brief shower that follows, brings welcome relief from the unusually high temperatures for spring season but it doesn’t douse out the forest fires on the slopes above. Stephen, our host at the homestay has been telling us of the combustible mix of superstition and greed that leads to these fires.

The evenings here have been spent ambling down the road leading to the village. The dusty haze has settled with the afternoon shower and there is a nip in the air. Now that the last bus has thundered back, the road is deserted. A woman walking home offers a cup of tea and I regretfully decline as I try to chase some birds in the dying light. The golden roof of the Shringa Rishi Temple glints in the last rays.

In a clearing below a wooden shrine sits next to flowering rhododendrons. The mountains are silhouetted against an ombre sky. Then as if a switch has been thrown the lights across the valley come on. The night light show is live! It can be magical when man and nature come together in harmony.

Fact File-

Getting there–

By Road-

a)Take a bus for Manali. Get off at Aut. From Aut there are buses and taxis available for Tirthan.

b) Drive from Chandigarh either through the Shimla or Bilaspur route.

Fly in-

Closest airhead is at Buntar, Kullu

Staying–

We stayed at Hema and Stephen’s home – Tirthan Eagle Nest.

There are resorts, hotels and homestays to suit all budgets.

Conscious travel tips–

Carry your own water bottles.

Eat local produce.

Ask how your hotel/homestay deals with waste.

Carry your plastics back!

May 20, 2022May 23, 2022

A Tale of Two Veiled Valleys: Part I- Shangarh’s Meadows are meant for Musing

‘I hope its worth it’ is more of a prayer than a thought on seeing the man’s tired and slightly irate face. ‘Don’t you bloggers ever write about the roads leading up to those picturesque places?’ He has just asked after being on a patchy mountain road with traffic for more than six hours which included being on dead stop in a traffic jam for an hour. Errr… apparently not! So FYI the road to Manali, and I suspect till Leh, is and will remain for some time a super mess. My morale rises in a bit when we turned off the highway and pass under the entrance gate of the Great Himalayan National Park which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The traffic peters off and the narrow road in mint condition stays that way mostly till Shangarh.

Discover a Tourmaline road in- Chushul – Chumathang – Hello Indus & Iridescent Colours!

We pass a serene lake made by the dam at the confluence of Beas and Sainj, the mountainside disappearing into its depths . Crossing the Sainj River at Larji and hugging the mountainside we make our way up the narrow valley with air scented by pine trees, wild rose bushes and traditional wooden houses clinging to the steep slopes. Reaching the Shangarh Forest Rest House (FRH) perched up and at the end of a kilometer of dirt track with tight turns is the last discordant note in the road medley of the day. Some communication gap and lots of delegation ensures that there is no dinner as spoken about in the morning at the FRH. Fortunately an overstocked food basket with us ensures we are certainly not going to go hungry tonight… or for many nights to come! Nothing like bread, cheese and wine on a bracingly cold evening!

Read about a different palate in- Satiating Nostalgia Under the Winter Rain at Junia

So Shangarh is like an amphitheatre with terraced orchards and fields dotted with houses and the FRH is placed on the highest tier. Morning sees us sipping tea and soaking in the sights from this vantage point. The apple trees are in bloom all around and birds are flitting about. The valley lies blanketed before us in what we think is morning mist but the caretaker tells us that there is a forest fire burning on the slope across. He then points out the ancient Manu Rishi temple on a sliver of an outcrop at the edge of Shanshar village across the valley. It’s 5 tiered roof catches the sun. The temple is dedicated to the fabled progenitor of the human race who gave us the Manu Smriti- the original book of laws. Snow-clad peaks in the distance make a perfect backdrop.

A temple like no other is in- Mystic Maheshwar : At the Center of the Universe

God’s Own Meadow

Later we follow him through the old wooden houses so typical of this area and new ones coming up as homestays to cater for the expected surge of tourists. We cross fields of flowering mustard, with cows and sheep grazing on grass made green by small waterfalls. Following an old woman and her herd we walk into the meadow and its unlike anything I have seen. Pristine undulating grassland ringed by mighty deodars… devoid of people almost! The breeze through the trees whispers stories of the Pandavas coming here, clearing this place of all stones save one pillar-like which juts out at an angle demarcating land meant for man and beast. The ownership of the meadow still resides with the Gods.

Discover a dying tribe of nomads in- At the Darwaza of a Road Less Travelled

We sit on the slope and behind us is another stone, covered with a metal roof, lined with cylindrical wooden trellis which play out a clickety-clack every time the breeze teases them. We reluctantly rouse ourselves to explore the meadow after basking in the warming sun and just being. The temple in the meadow is all wood and slate and the inner sanctum is surrounded by a pillared veranda. The carvings depict among other gods the 10 avatars of Vishnu. One bears a strong resemblance to Buddha?! Nearby a grove of deodars is fenced off exclusively as the abode of Gods. Trespassers will bear divine consequences. Now who would chance that!

The shiny new roof of the Shungchul Mahadev temple made in typical Kathkuni style beacons. We approach the towering temple from the back as it sits tightly hemmed in by houses and fields ringed with fruiting trees and gape as we turn to the front. Its made of stone and wood, its wooden facade all carved, rising about three storey’s high with two wooden balconies. The original structure burnt down about seven years back but a replica has been resurrected . The only thing that survived from the original temple was the palanquin…and it is much needed!

Discover the temples of- Part Two -The Old Gold in Outstanding Orchha

The evening goes in a stroll near the FRH crossing gushing streams, apple orchards surrounded by deodar trees , small cottages and camps catering to the young tourists. The breeze has made the forest fire pick up pace and its a blazing scar zig-zaging its way down the entire face of the mountain in front.

Of Sacred Groves and Meadow Musings

Next morning with packed buns, boiled eggs and a thermos of coffee we follow a young local guide as he leads us up to Jangaon (Ganjau) Thach. It is about half way to the famous Thini Thach which is like a pilgrimage for the locals. Thach is a meadow in local parlance. The initial climb is through a deep deodar forest but the sounds of drums far below rise up clearly. The Gods are making their way back to the temple from a nearby village where they had been invited for some function. Here the deities are extremely social, visiting each other and men alike and a whole procession accompanies their palanquin. The forest is hardly silent too. Birds are chirping everywhere but as any bird watcher will tell you- size and volume is inversely proportional. Its maddening to hear but not be able spot! We make our way through small clearings, cross a rich man’s vast estate and the forest department’s nursery where, enclosed by a low stone wall, a wooden shed gives company to a flowering tree.

Explore the meadows of Kashmir in- Tarsar Marsar : A Trekker’s Take

We cross carpets of iris yet to bloom and streams, one with an arched wooden bridge right next to a small yet cascading waterfall. The crystal clear water runs off in a hurry. Just short of the Thach we come to a sacred grove. It’s a flat piece of boggy land with a variety of trees and a loopy stream. A wooden hut stands at the edge and under a tree tied with bright pieces of cloth is a trident and an assortment of metal offerings to the forest goddess including cups, plates and maybe some cutlery too. (Under another tree I spotted a battered extension cord and a wheel hub. What the Goddess needs this for, only she knows!) There is something mysterious yet magical here.

I reluctantly do the short climb to the Thach. The forest fire’s smoke is a shroud over the valley. The hazy sky, a pale version of its usual hue of blue. The snow-clad peaks around are barely visible and the cold air has a faint feeling of despondency. A lone walnut tree in the middle of the undulating grassy meadow has sprung out of and split a massive boulder into two. It tries valiantly to provide some colour with sparse red remnants of winter foliage on its branches. Tiny flowers here and there join the tree in its effort. We munch and muse over the subdued beauty of this meadow.

Since my toes are slightly done walking downhill we stick to a level ramble in the evening. Its our last night here and the temptation to use the room’s fireplace is too great to pass on and so canned baked beans and ready-to-eat pasta is our fare by the dying embers of a mellow fire. Richard Parker, the cat, on this road trip with us does not share our enthusiasm for the fire and I think of all the animals on the burning mountainside across.

Shangarh is a slice of secluded serenity meant for just being. I truly hope it stays that way.

Fact File–

Getting there:

By Road- The road from Mandi onwards is nothing more than a dirt track in patches due to of the widening work so avoid unless a)Its not your car, b) You don’t much care for your car, c)Its meant for off-roading.

By Air- The Buntar airport at Kullu is about 51 kms.

Staying:

The FRH at Shangarh can be booked online on the GHNP website.

We stayed at the FRH at Shangarh. It is clean but basic. The caretaker rustles up tea and simple fare, a bit reluctantly.

There is a Zostel, a few small homestays and tented camps.

Conscious Travelling:

Shangarh and other places in the Sainj valley are little more than overgrown hamlets. They have no system of garbage collection/disposal. Check with your hosts how they manage their waste. It will encourage proper disposal. Till then we visitors need to minimize what disposables we carry and if possible carry our non-biodegradables back!

Coming up next- A Tale of Veiled Valleys: Part II- Bihar!

April 1, 2022April 2, 2022

Part Two- What Not to Miss on a Weekend Vacation in Shekhawati

Chances are that when you search for places to visit in Rajasthan the 3Js will dominate the itinerary circuit. But Rajasthan’s treasure chest has more gems waiting to be discovered apart from flashy Jaipur, Jodhpur, Jaisalmer and maybe Udaipur. Having sampled the visual treat that Mandawa offered our appetites were totally whetted to try out whatever else the Shekhawati region had to offer. After much debate and ifs and buts we settled on Nawalgarh, Dhundlod, Mehansar and Ramgarh Shekhawati. Perfectly packed itinerary for a weekend vacation of discovering fascinating frescoes and haveli hopping!

We try to make an early start from Delhi and the highway is intermittently lined with mustard fields covered by a thinning mist as we make our way to Mandawa to pick up Om Ji, the guide from our previous trip. Through the drive to Mehansar the discussion veers to the trading practices of the merchants here. Apart from trading in opium, cotton etc, the shrewd businessman seemed to have literally extracted his pound of flesh through exploitative money lending practices from the hardy and poor farmer of this region, where the crops depended solely on the liquid benediction of the moody monsoon.

Read- Batalik – A Tribute to the Human Spirit to discover another lot of tough people living in a cold desert.

Mehansar’s Oh My Moment!

We stop outside a wayside unpretentious haveli at Mehansar. Here the room where business was conducted, in a deviation from the norm, opens into the street instead of a courtyard. An uncovered veranda lined by a drain sits between the room and the dusty street. Om Ji gets the keys from the caretaker and opens a rather small door typical to this area. As the lights are flicked on we gaze up and around in amazement. It’s a room meant to awe the visitors and marvel at the owner’s refined taste. Every inch is painted in a rich palette.

The motifs on the walls are in crimson red but its the 3 sections of the roof which are the masterpieces. In one section the Yamuna is a broad thread of dull molten gold running through the story of Krishna’s life around the roof. On the other side it’s the Ramayana with a ‘Sone ki Lanka’ in burnished gold. The 180 year old ‘sone ki dukaan’ as this room is called seems like a miniature version of the fabled kingdom. But its not just the use of pure gold in the paintings that is stunning, it’s the finesse with the which the miniature paintings have been done. The world outside looks infinitely drab after that stellar show!

I saw a show like no other at- Tarsar Marsar : A Trekker’s Take

Ramgarh Shekhawati’s Remarkable Chattris

The drive from Mehansar to Ramgarh is a short blur and we wind our way past numerous wells and chattris enclosed behind high walls to come to the Poddar chattris. Built from 1872 onwards these airy pavilions have mandirs tucked inside in the ground floor which often doubled up as serais or inns. Wide staircases lead up to domes surrounded by arched balconies in this cluster of elaborate structures. The setting sun seen through the arches shines on the domes which have frescoes where Krishna multiplies himself endlessly to dance with each gopi around the roof. A Rasamandala. One can imagine these chattris making a dramatic backdrop for a cultural extravaganza. Unfortunately right now they’ve been usurped by someone who is using one of the arched structures as a cowshed. The cow’s kismet!

History and more dwells in- 3 Churches in Mhow: Discovering Obscure History and Outstanding Carols

Traditional and Nouveau Art at Nawalgarh

As testimony to its wealthy past, havelis are scattered dime a dozen in the winding bylanes in Nawalgarh. We head for the Morarka Haveli. Outside the mansion, under an eave, a portrait of a slightly forlorn looking Jesus is pointed out to us. I suppose his expression is borne out after years of looking at the dismembering happening in the panel below! In the outer courtyard a man plays a one stringed instrument, his voice rising to a melancholic crescendo. The music reverberates in the courtyard.

The inner door has bubbles of Belgian glass lining it. Stunning wooden arches hold coloured glass panes. The light filtering though makes them glow. A portrait of a young woman with pencil thin brows and a bindi with wings peers into the distance in a scalloped arch above a carved window frame. From the first floor one glimpses the pristine white and red lined domes of chattris across the lane.

Discover winged visitors of Rajasthan in – The Bird-book of Bikaner

A lane away the Poddar haveli being run as a museum is a beautifully built, lavishly painted not to mention a very well maintained mansion. The first courtyard has more traditional elements and is covered with frescoes. The arch above the inner door is a piece of work where the owner and his business share space with various deities. A panel on a wall catches my eye where on one end a woman in a gown and parasol seems to be having a rendezvous with a young man.

On the other a rather irate looking white man in front of a steam engine is haranguing with a local holding a red flag. Their expressions and details are priceless. A parallel panel above depicts a world apart with scenes of the local revelry and the gangaur festival. The upper floor in pale lime green finish has inverted carved arches holding up slender cream pillars. The rooms inside showcase various aspects of the local culture right from styles of turbans peculiar to each community to various houses of Rajasthani miniatures.

A place like no other is- Chushul -Chumathang -Hello Indus & Iridescent Colours!

The Doors of Dhundlod

The final stop of the day is another museum depicting everyday life with life sized figurines at the Goenka haveli in Dhundlod. A wide ramp leads to the massive door of the haveli. The inner door is carved and studded with tiny pieces of ivory.

But the truly drool worthy, to have by hook or by crook are the exquisitely carved doors inside. Embellished with beaten brass each one is unique. The arches above them painted with gods and perhaps members of the household. In a room with a big swing made of wood and inlaid with glass for a tiny bal gopal lie tattered catalogues and brochures with swatches of cloth en vogue in Calcutta in early 20^th century. The inner courtyard wall has a small niche to holds a tiny throne to keep a saligram. The primal representation of god deserves one.

A place like no other is- Pangong Tso -The Gems in the Crown

Satiating all the Senses

Heading back to Churi Ajitgarh where we are putting up we stop to pick up some raj bhog rasgullas. The giant caramel coloured sweetmeats are supposed to be a specialty and to balance out the palate we add the ubiquitous mirchi pakoras and kachoris, served here with an interesting chutney of tamarind and curd. Sights done now its time to indulge in the smells and tastes of the land!

A must on a foodie’s plate is- Nasirabad’s Kachora: More than a Savoury Story

Shekhawati is a visual smorgasbord laid out for slow sampling and one needs to come back to the table again and again to appreciate its artful presentation and idiosyncratic ingredients. This vast region dotted with towns and hamlets is a bit like the rich rasgullas we had… one has to squeeze out some excess syrup to get the full flavor.

Fact File–

1.Itinerary-

Day 1- Drive from Delhi to Mandawa and visit Mehansar and Ramgarh Shekhawati.

Day 2- Visit Nawalgarh and Dhundlod.

From Jaipur one will reach Nawalgarh first. So plan accordingly.

1.Staying-

We stayed at Vivaana Culture Hotel at Churi Ajitgarh. It is about 9 kms from Mandawa. It comprises of 2 adjoining havelis.

There are a few options in Mandawa, Nawalgarh and Dhundlod.

2.Entry Fee-

All the places we visited charged anything from 50/- to a 100/- INR.

3.Getting there-

The best way is to drive from either Delhi or Jaipur.

January 28, 2022January 29, 2022

Part One – A Day Meandering in Mandawa

‘Stop, stop! Oh my God!!’We are navigating the winding lanes of Fatehgarh enroute to Mandawa and at a time when I should be looking out for the next turn on the map; I have been waylaid by the facade of a haveli. The resolutely padlocked tall door is crowned with a carved wooden frame but it’s the arch before it which looks like an art aficionado’s wet dream. The stone canopy in pastel colours with portraits in stucco lined oval frames and designs is a masterpiece in itself. On a side, the veranda’s wall has jumbo sized elephants on a march, safe behind a cast iron grill with Queen Victoria’s profile. Welcome to Shekhawati! Where the mansions lining the dusty lanes don’t hold art but are objets d’art themselves.

Time and Space Warp

The drive to Mandawa is dotted with lush golden green mustard fields. The colour of eye tonic in a desert! Driving into a charming market street tells us we have reached our destination. Our guide for the day is waiting for us outside the most prominent landmark of the town- the fort. Acquaintance made, we dive behind Mr. Om Shekhawat (Can’t get away from them in this land!) into a narrow path outside the fort wall and emerge beside a tiny well preserved haveli. The frescoes look fresh but the imagery is old and on the arch flanking Ganesha on one side the marriage scene of Shiva-Parvati plays out and on the other Rama is dealing with Shiva’s bow at Sita’s swayamvar. Nearby another haveli has been refurbished into a small hotel. Outside the fading frescoes show a man in riding boots and hat on a chair while a woman plays a gramophone on a veranda with a peacock pecking nearby. Inside I find framed prints of mythological figures with reference to a trading company in Manchester. Time takes a quantum leap in a short space. We discover through the day that time and space has a kitschy co existence on the walls here.

Time stands still at- Mystic Maheshwar : At the Center of the Universe

Timeless Template

The Chokhany double haveli turns out to be the ancestral property of a classmate and is set inside a joint compound. One is being restored. It is an introduction to the architectural template of havelis. A ramp leads up to the main gate. As one steps through and into the common area, next to the stairs leading up to one haveli there is a room with a veranda. With wide doors this room is where business was conducted and guests received. A solid iron safe sits next to a door like a doorkeeper. There are small balconies within where the women could discreetly join in and eavesdrop. The punkhawala sitting outside whose entire purpose of existence was to keep his master cool had no such insights into the dealings. Preferably he had to be deaf to do this job or at the least the ears would be plugged with cotton.

The carved door to the main haveli has torans hanging on them. Put up during a daughter’s wedding for the groom to touch before being let in, I thought they are taken down subsequently, but not here. Inside is a courtyard surrounded by bedrooms, common dining areas, kitchens and a narrow room to keep the most precious commodity here-water. The walls plastered with crushed shells are still lustrous and cool to touch. In an old system of rainwater harvesting the drains around the courtyard fill up a tank below. The servant’s quarters are on a side in the base and they open into a big courtyard for livestock at the back where the colours of the curving corbel have weathered the vagaries of nature beautifully. The twin haveli is a mirror image.

Experience living the Shekawati life at- Dera Jaipur: A Homestay for Stellar Style and Exceptional Experiences

Well Watered

Driving in this region one has often glimpsed wells marked with pillars. At a place near Jhunjhunu the pillars were shaped like slender spires of a temple. Mandawa is dotted with these tall markers. Four columns denote a public and two a private well. A rambling walk with glimpses of artists restoring a recently bought up haveli brings us to Mandawa Kothi. There is a private well opposite it. Like the houses here it has a high plinth and seems fathomless. There are small chattris on all corners and small tanks with spouts to store the water drawn up by animals. It would be an ideal place to congregate in the evening. It’s steps look invitingly perfect for a cup of coffee this winter morning too.

Discover the colours of a stepwell and others in- Harlequin Holi at Todaraisingh

Oh so Opulent

An art deco building near the Jhunjhunwala haveli looks like a movie set has been transported straight from Marine Drive. The owner of the Jhunjhunwala haveli, to show he had arrived, lavished not only riches but attention on the interiors of his ‘business room’. Every inch is painted in rich hues with ethnic motifs and designs. Family portraits vie for attention with mythological ones touched up with real gold. Account books still lie stuffed into niches.

A niche experience by itself was –Disconnecting with the World on a Mountain Isle at Shaama

Italian Hangover

Opposite the Goenka haveli with its contrived chaos full of bric-a-brac inside and interesting frescoes outside stands the Robin eggshell blue Murmuria haveli. The eaves have sceneries from much greener pastures with lakes, conifer trees and sunsets over mountains. It stands apart as a whimsical piece of art with an Italian hangover. A slightly defaced Nehru/Bose astride a horse waving the tricolor in the courtyard would beg to differ. It’s owner visited Venice once and described it to an artist who probably never stepped out of this area. In a testament to the artist’s imagination, as fertile as his paintings, he reproduced an entire brochure of Venice complete with St Mark’s Square etal above the pretty arches in carved stone of the veranda. On another wall a beautiful woman stares the world down, far from the coy and comely images here. I wonder who she was to be immortalized so….

A Bard Sings a Story in Jhansi – To immortalize another woman…

Fate Nails Some Fails Some

One of the Goenka double havelis adjoining the Murmuria haveli has recently been opened after decades. A long train with all manners of assorted passengers makes for a panel just below an overhang. In the neglected years a peepal tree has thrived in the inner courtyard where the fine woodwork and arches can barely be concealed by the blackened walls. Outside a fresco with a chillum smoking elephant ready to go on the rampage is being touched up. Today, only the bulls are loose in the lanes and the man has had to show off his matador toes occasionally to avoid being flattened like a cow pat!

In the main market we cross a cobbler with his orders in Urdu nailed to a tree and come to a haveli now housing a bank. It has a side show of the wonders of modern inventions in faraway lands enthralling the locals. I really doubt the Wright brothers flew over Mandawa! Unfortunately the wall is also defaced by modern contraptions of today.

There are havelis waiting to be explored still in the meandering wide lanes of Mandawa but even on a winter noon the sun is now beating us back into cooler confines. Another time, other places to continue our sojourns to Shekhawati….

Fact File-

1. Distances from Mandawa-

Delhi- 250 km

Jaipur- 170km

2. Places to Stay-

There are some havelis which have been converted to small hotels.

Mandawa Fort has an upscale hotel called Castle Mandawa.

3. Most havelis charge an entry fee now, varying from 50/- to 100/- per person.

4. Best time to visit- Nov to Mar. The nights will be cold and days warm.

5. Keep the walking shoes on even if you feel they will spoil your Insta pics!

January 14, 2022January 14, 2022

Sojourns to Shekhawati

What will we do with a door? The man asked for the nth time. Hang it above our bed like a canopy! I replied somewhat irately. On a flying visit to Jodhpur many moons back I had only one agenda. On the hunt I fell for these doorframes refurbished as bookracks. Stunnnning! (Someday…) This tall Gujarati door with its edges finely carved caught my eye. (Yeah, free guide to the doorways of India thrown in!). In the last warehouse, tiny doors connected these gargantuan halls, much like Aladdin’s cave interconnected in parallel portals. Stepping through to enter the last one something leaning on the wall behind stacked up furniture caught my eye. I made my way to stand in front of my door. A Shekhawati I was told. Since the territory had been the bulwark of the Rajput kingdoms to its south against marauding forces, diminutive doors made entry difficult and the metal embellishments reinforced their strength. A bit of a tall story about the small size…The tall gates of the havelis of Shekhawati, never mind the forts, would tell the small door to get back inside where it belonged and let them do the job of defending.

Year of the Backyard

Living in Shekhawati’s neighbourhood, through the Year of the Backyard as I call 2021, we had decided to stick to exploring places in our vicinity. One day sifting through some Facebook (it does have some redeeming features) pics I chanced upon stunning visuals of the havelis of Shekhawati. Wow! Art, architecture, history! Throw proximity in the pot and the recipe for an outing was complete. But let’s delve into the story of the region before we embark on a walk though the dusty hamlets and quaint towns that are a living art gallery.

Backyard also includes- Bikaner’s Merchants and Their Mansions

The Territory, Thikanedars and Traders

Shekhawati, the land of Rao Shekha and his descendants, was established as a separate principality when Rao Shekha declared independence from his Kacchawa clansmen at Amber in 1471. Over centuries it expanded to cover much of present Sikar, Jhunjhunu and Churu. His descendants and brethren constructed around 50 forts and palaces in this region and established their own fiefdoms or Thikanas like Nawalgarh, Mandawa, Dundlod. Shekhawati I am told means ‘Garden of Shekha’. I don’t buy that story. Garden is definitely not what this arid, sandy and drab territory can remotely be described as, where the only colour that blooms adorns either the attire of the people or the buildings made by them. It is also the land where the trading routes criss-crossed from Delhi and Kannauj to Sindh and Multan and towards Gujarat. The rulers depended on the merchants traversing through to pay jagat or transit dues to fill their coffers while the latter would get protection to carry on their trade safely. In time many moved and settled in these thikanas. Well known business families- Poddars, Goenkas, Birlas, Piramals to name some, trace their roots to this region.

Discover-The Gardens of Delhi – A Walk Not Only on the Green Side but Through History Itself

Being House Proud

What a fort or garh is to a king or ruler in Rajasthan, a mansion or haveli is to a merchant. In a land where iconic forts like at Jaipur, Jodhpur and Jaisalmer draw the tourists, in Shekhawati its the havelis which hold their own. Here the merchants upstaged the rulers and their forts. In a ‘have it flaunt it’ attitude the merchants, as they prospered trading in cotton, opium, spices and silks, became patrons of art making their mansions not just more ornate but more opulent inside out. Once they were done with their own dwellings they moved on to making chattris, wells and ponds. But money is a Pied Piper. They followed it here and eventually in time trailed behind it to Calcutta and Bombay where new rulers set up bigger trading posts. Now most of the havelis lie forlornly neglected.

Camels walk- At the Darwaza of a Road Less Travelled

Artful Architecture

The havelis have a set template when it comes to architectural style with generally two courtyards and two storey’s. Massive arched doors make impressive entrances. The intricate woodwork of the doors and windows makes them a collector’s item. But it’s the frescoes adorning every inch of the building at times which are the piece de résistance. These encapsulate mythological and historical figures and tales, folk tales, flora and fauna, decorative designs, erotica and not the least the Britishers and their devices. Some depict faraway lands, few fanciful scenes, and occasionally plain hilarious ones. Gold leaf and Belgian glass is often a glittering embellishment. The richness of material and descriptive details were meant to shock and awe and they do, still!

Read about nature’s shockers in- Barot And the Serendipitous Catch in the Uhl River

Once on a visit to the National Gallery of Modern Art in Delhi we were told it is nigh possible to see everything in it in a day. Shekhawati’s treasures too are scattered over numerous little towns and hamlets all vying for unhurried and close attention from discerning travelers to truly reveal their hidden facets. So what not to miss on a visit to a region which is a living art gallery where exceptional architecture provides a canvas for many a masterpiece?

We’ll begin with Mandawa…coming up next.

December 17, 2021December 17, 2021

Bikaner’s Chattris: Royals in Repose

If one wants to meet our dearly departed where do we go? In our culture, no particular place it would seem, but there have never been any absolutes. So we find cenotaphs or chattris in many parts of the country, especially of the royal families, built to honour the memory of the nobles. The first cenotaphs I explored were at Orchha. Like breathing gargoyles endangered vultures sat on the eaves of the humongous monuments made in the typically Bundelkandi architecture, rose bushes faintly scenting the air. There also a few generations give each other company in their walled enclosure.

Read about the Chattris of Orchha in- Part One- On the Wild Side of Outstanding Orchha

At Bikaner the cenotaphs of the royal family are located at Devi Kund Sagar. Here too on the outskirts of Bikaner the chattris are clustered around in a walled space. But unlike the handful at Orchha, here generations of men, women and children are neatly placed, precisely dated and relations clearly catalogued like a family tree spread in a garden. A requiem in stone. We head there one evening with the sun descending, ready to call it a day. The place is clean and paved thankfully since we have to take off our footwear at the entrance.

Discover – The Gardens of Delhi – A walk not only on the green side but through history itself

There is some open space as we enter and to a side a small one is being constructed. I wonder how it works …are they made in anticipation according to the wishes of the alive for their ever after resting place or is it left to the whims of the descendants how best to honour the memories? The first one on the right, also the last to be made in 2003 of Maharaja Narendra Singh, is a small chattri in red sandstone, a throwback to the oldest ones at the far end. Two across it are incongruously ‘modern’ and look out of place. They invoke a socialism influenced spartan look somehow in my mind.

There is nothing spartan about- Bikaner’s Merchants and Their Mansions

Majority of the big ones in between are of creamy marble with beautifully carved pillars and arches. Some of the domed roofs have stunning artwork on the inside. One follows a limited but eclectic black and blue colour scheme to depict gods and goddess. Another has Radha Krishna in a circular sequence. At the far end they are mostly made of red and pink sandstone with high and beautifully carved floral plinths. The oldest belongs to Rao Kalyanmal, the 5^th ruler of Bikaner who died in 1571.

Explore the hues of Rajasthan in- Harlequin Holi at Todaraisingh

A small one between the big marble and sandstone chattris stands out not only because it belongs to a woman (the board along the wall says Madan Kunwar, 1826) as denoted by the small feet engraved on the marble piece but also because of its distinctive architecture. The eaves curve and sweep down like boughs of a weeping willow.

A man rides into his afterlife with his women.

Someone explains the exact iconography in the chattris. The ones belonging to the menfolk have vertical slabs whose edges are beautifully scalloped and carved, engraved with either a man seated with a woman on a throne or alone on a horse, attendants around. Below within a wreath of carved and twisted leaves things are inscribed. . The ones on horseback we are told denote whose wives committed sati on their death. From the first ruler, Rao Bikaji to the thirteenth king, Maharaja Zorawar not only wives but concubines and at times attendants and slave girls too were expected to commit sati. No wonder women pray for their husband’s long life! There is a temple near the end dedicated to Satimata. It is has a lot of visitors. The barbaric practice might have ended but the idea still is romanticized and worshipped.

Where a woman is literally worshipped – Mystic Maheshwar : At the Center of the Universe

On one end are the chattris of the women in red sandstone. They are smaller and many are devoid of the ornamentation visible in the men’s. Most have a single pair of tiny feet made on a marble piece, boards alongside clearly mentioning their names and that of their husbands. One near the end has four pairs of feet. The board gives three names of women and one of a man. There are 4 different dates mentioned so I don’t think they are satis or a sato, a rare but recorded occurrence where men commit the act too. The family has had a few instances of them. There are memorials of children too called nada. It’s a simple plinth with no canopy.

Reviving past glories and – Satiating Nostalgia Under the Winter Rain at Junia

The sun is a ball of blazing orange visible below the arches as curiosity gets the better of me and I unlatch one of the many small wooden doors lined up on the wall, one before each cenotaph. They all open to a sloping ground with broken tombstones, littered with a bit of rubbish ending with an embankment holding back a big pond lined with lotuses. A glossy black cobra slithers amongst the tombstones. As it disappears behind one nearby I hurriedly step back through the door. Latching the door I turn to see the moon has risen and its almost a full moon bathing the monuments in its luminescent light. It is going to be a beautiful night for a family get together.

October 22, 2021October 22, 2021

Tarsar Marsar : Memoirs of an Escapade

The night prior to my early morning departure for Srinagar Syed Shah Geelani passed away, thankfully in his bed. In Delhi that evening scrolling through Inshorts it registered vaguely, my mind more on organizing my gear and the 6 am drive to the airport. I was praying it wouldn’t rain (it did!) like it did in the day, when Delhi took a dunking in record rainfall. To top it I was going alone, trekking with a company found on the internet, with companions I had no idea about. And yeah, 2 phone numbers to tie it all together. How desperate could I be to do this trek?

Roller-coaster Ride

So we cross the Pir Panjals and cruise low enough to make out houses, fields and streams in a wide valley cupped by snow capped mountains. We land and as we are heading out I hear snatches of conversations – No network, Covid retest. An earbud-like treatment is the least of my issues. The Valley’s communication lines have been shut down. No phones, except for BSNL postpaid (which I do not have) and no internet! A long dawdling wait at the airport ensues where strangers generously lend me their phones to make frantic calls, offer to drop me to Pahalgam… the Dal Lake! One driver asks me who I am trekking with and when I say Fayaz bhai he tells me with absolute conviction to wait. Someone will come he says. And so I do, till I find my trekking companions and the missing driver. Relief! Then it’s a drive through shuttered towns with lots of detours and at Anantnag, an unyielding cop makes us think this is the end of the road. I am with a group of Bengalis and if anyone can take on authority resolutely yet sweetly, it is a Bengali woman. He finally relents and we are soon crossing the flowering gardens of Pahalgam by the blue Lidder and galloping towards Aru like horses nearing their stable.

A river runs through- Batalik – A Tribute to the Human Spirit

Meet the People at Aru

Fayaz bhai is our trek leader and cook. A typical tall Kashmiri with a hooked nose, he is reticent with a watchful smile. We stay at his house the local way- in one big carpeted room, bedding in a line on the floor. Not what I am expecting but then that seems to be the theme of this trip. Dinner is in a similar room downstairs and the Haaq is fresh and delicious. His mother lets me warm my hands on her kangri, although the conversation is limited with lots of smiles to fill the gaps. His young niece, Shagufta is like a curious pretty butterfly, and takes a shine on some of us and an instant dislike to one. The entire household sees us off the next morning.

Discover deserted mansions in – Bikaner’s Merchants and Their Mansions

Sound of Music

Shahnawaz, our guide, is a young lad studying in grade 12^th with dreams to be a doctor. He is like a herder with infinite patience and a gentle mien. On the intermittent open slopes enroute to Lidderwat we come across kothas, the flat roofed mud and wood dwellings of the Gujjars. As we take a breather near one the kids come scrambling, then bashfully ask for chocolates. We cross families of Bakarwals striding down, their colourful horses at times carrying sacks of wool.

The last meadow before the wooden bridge to Lidderwat is like a movie, Sound of Music perhaps. Little white flowers dot the greenscape. A horse munches on the grass sprouting on the roof of a kotha made next to a massive boulder. The silence is broken by the baaing of a herd of sheep that sweep across the meadow.

I found wishes were not horses but camels – At the Darwaza of a Road Less Travelled

Lidderwat lies at the confluence of the Lidder River which originates from the Kolahoi glacier and a stream fed by the runoffs of Tarsar and Sundarsar. The place is overrun with sheep, ponies and kids looking for a sugar rush and at night, a bear or so I am told. Alone in my tent at night I wake up startled when something large bumps into my tent but the ferocious barking that ensues is like lullaby to my ears.

Shekhwas‘s Stellar Surprise

We are taught traffic rules of narrow mountain paths on the move early enough the next morning. ‘Side, side,’ shouts Shahnawaz from the back as the horses carrying the camping gear catch up with us. We move hither- thither. He says, ‘mountainside!’ The ponies always walk on the edge we learn.

Shekwas has no trees, no lake, just endless slopes of green converging into a stream in the middle. The evening is spent in solitude on the slope above the camp watching the horses and sheep without any minders. But the night! Oh my god the night! I could have slept, I should have..(Would have been a frozen ball in the morning though.)… under the Milky way! We step out from the dinner tent and I gasp and stop dead. The galaxy is a creamy luminescent cloud in a sky already crowded with stars, shooting stars, satellites. An astronomy enthusiast points out Saturn and Jupiter. The sky seems to say this stellar show is only for those who tread this path, when I fail abysmally to photograph even a twinkle…. I reluctantly agree.

Read about another out of this world experience in- Mystic Maheshwar : At the Center of the Universe

The Garden Path to Tarsar

In the morning a sharp whistle has me rushing out of the tent thinking its an exotic bird only to see a sweeping mass of white dots moving near the kothas across a stream from us. The herder and his flock have set out for the day. The walk up to Tarsar is a ramble on a mountainside park strewn with boulders, Pipits and Accentors hopping on them and flowers growing in between.

Explore – The Gardens of Delhi – A walk not only on the green side but through history itself

Tarsar in a kidney bowl is a mere reflection of the game of chase being played out above, faithfully changing colour. Sunlight like dappled diamonds plays on its surface. The wind makes it move restlessly against the rocks in the afternoon. A peachy grey dusk brings the curtains down on an evening of songs with warming cuppas as Mercury shines brightly above silhouetted craggy peaks.

A Study

The next morning as all the trekking groups crest the pass together, the heights are a study in human behavior. The adrenaline junkies are on a high(t) and on all the edges, the selfie fiends hog the best spot, the solitude seekers tune out of the circus. All paying homage to the placid lake below. The trail spreads out again as we head down towards the meandering stream in the distance. Its boggy surroundings houses marmots we discover.

We camp next to Sundarsar and after lunch follow the goats across a pass for a bird’s eye view of the twin Marsar. Across the pass 2 dogs charge at us but are firmly brought to heel. The older one is unfriendly but the younger one hasn’t lost his innate friendliness. Still, with a sheepish wag of his tail he maintains his distance now. His owner then disappears behind his flock into the rocky face of the mountain lining Marsar, a dour looking massive lake so far below. The mountain range on the other side seems to be the end of the world.

Portrait of a Shepherd and an Obedient Dog

Find a lake like no other at- Pangong Tso – The Gems in the Crown

At Sundarsar the pack horses are being lured back to the camp with treats. Mushtaq is the pony guy and his intense eyes are a little disconcerting but his devotion to the animals is absolute. The helper at large, Shabir dresses one’s wound and then their forelegs are bound for the night. Waking up at dawn next morning I am duly rewarded with the stunning sight of Mt Kolahoi’s outline towering in the horizon. The clouds quickly drape themselves around it.

The Women at the Meadows

The long march back to Lidderwat is along the stream coming out of Sundarsar and we cross kothas with Choughs pecking in the empty corrals and women inviting us in for tea. Most of us move on regretfully. At Homwas near a Kotha barely discernible from above, the Bakarwals are sitting, literally on the sheep. Years of practice shows in the methodical evenness of the shearing being done with ancient scissors. Bags of wool sit waiting to be loaded onto the horses. A young girl wants to see what I have shot. As I sit to show her, a little scruffy girl, barely 2 feet off the ground, who has been watching me with big round eyes comes and tucks herself into me to watch too. I can do nothing but hug her back and beat back a crazy desire to carry her home.

The trek, a journey and some companions.

Back at Fayaz bhai’s house his solemn boys find us and some treats. Shagufta finds new people in her house. I had gone for a trek, thinking only of the mountains I wanted to be in. Kashmir is truly a generous gift from nature. But I learnt how much a place is about its people. That a trek is a journey and companions matter.(Totally lucked out on that!) At some level it felt we were all just walking each other home.

Take a rambling walk with me in- Tarsar Marsar : A Trekker’s Take

September 23, 2021September 27, 2021

Tarsar Marsar : A Trekker’s Take

Like I overheard at the tail end of the trek- “There is so much on the internet about Tarsar Marsar.’ True, since it is easy on the eyes, to say the least, it is an ‘A’ Lister of treks, but most of what is written is from a trek company’s perspective. Natural beauty apart, it is peddled to be an easy-moderate trek. Assuming you are moderately fit like me, how would it pan out for you? ..Easy or moderate? Take a rambling walk with me through each day and find out. The walk starts from Aru.

Day 1- Warming up from Aru to Lidderwat

So we start from the home stay, at around 8:30, bidding goodbye to our hosts like we are going to summit Mount Kolahoi itself. In full disclosure of ignorance I had not heard of it before. And it takes couple of days for the name to start rolling of my tongue. But I’m smitten! Such sharp features, what a towering personality! Oh better get moving with the trek… So we are huffing and puffing in the strong sun in 10 minutes, walking up a gentle slope with swaying grass growing behind the fence of the agriculture dept. on both sides. We summit the slope and flop down on a rolling meadow sandwiched between massive conifers groves. Rousing ourselves from our picture perfect setting we dive into the thick conifers ahead. And so it continues over a gentle up-slope walk through sloping meadows and thick trees for 10 odd kms. At one place it narrows out in the woods and the Lidder river can be heard roaring far below and in another we walk down almost to river level with a tea point where we have our packed lunch and say tentative hellos to the other group of fellow trekkers sprawled around.

Read about an emerald river in – Part One- On the Wild Side of Outstanding Orchha

At the last meadow before our camping ground, the path leading down to the river is like someone got into a snit and said just get down will you! Follow this stream of water down….Walk across the wooden bridge and voila!… Lidderwat!

Day 2: On the rocks from Lidderwat to Shekhwas

Its supposed to be 5.5 kms that day but it feels more like 7 and the early trekkers on the starting slope in the distance make it look easy. One can’t see the slatey path or the narrowness from the camp. But the minute we turn into the narrow valley with a stream far down, it eases off. After a short undulating walk we cross a trickle coming down and fill our bottles. We round another bend where a hawk hovers to reach the meadows of Homwas.

The sides of the valley are steep but the walk is gentle and we cross the stream and head towards the end of the tree line. It all narrows and we are walking on swirling root steps of a tree leaning into the stream below. Then we are between a rock or rather boulders ending in a hard place- the gushing stream. The alternate route will add another hour. I give baleful looks to Shahnawaz, our young guide. We dive onto the boulders and I hate it! I have no sense of balance and thank my stars I make it without twisting my ankle or wrecking my knee caps. All with help of the gallant young guide.

Bliss is what is to be found on the slopes of Shekhwas

Our camp is a short walk up and ahead on a slope of the expansive bowl. Oh! no! As we start the climb up some madness takes over and a fellow trekker and I decide enough of trudging and race up the slope like the locals. No paths! It’s an exhilarating end!

Discover a place marooned in the mountains in – Disconnecting with the World on a Mountain Isle at Shaama

Day 3: Rolling uphill from Shekhwas to Tarsar

By now I have tapped into my inner pahadi. It also helps that’s it’s the easiest 5 km walk so far… A boulder strewn wide gentle slope is what we traverse most of the way. I am able to walk ahead, take pics, fall behind and catch up without losing my breath after a while. There is just one big stream to cross.

Of boulders, birds and beautiful flowers

The flowering mountainside is ours to walk on and we crest and spy our tents beyond a dip. We have made it in time for lunch in about 4 hours and our tents are pegged on a slope before the lake. Super excited about making it to the first lake we take a short walk to see it. A jagged mountain hides Tarsar in its folds… Finally, the almond shaped lake with its water gently being pushed into a stream by the wind. The sun and wind battle it out in this high altitude. The colours of the lake shift playfully along.

Read about a lake like no other in – Pangong Tso : The Gems in the Crown

Day 4- Brace up for Tarsar to Sundarsar

Valleys at our feet, vistas in our sight.

The Tarsar pass looks deceptive. Sure the climb doesn’t look gentle but it seems short. It is but it is also two feet wide in most places. A tumble won’t kill but it’ll take you down more than a few feet and leave you in a heap of bruises.

The summit seems rocky and constrained. That it is but it expands to take in everyone posing with Tarsar and it’s surrounding craggy peaks providing a stunning backdrop before descending on a path way longer than the ascent. The path to Sundarsar is laid out in its entirety. It’s through a U-shaped valley with a loopy stream sandwiched between boulder crossings. Those feet killers! The one at the far end is big and ends at the mouth of Sundarsar.

A small placid lake, it is set in a niche off the wide valley at a height of about approx 12900 , mirroring its rocky cradle. After lunch we follow the goats across the lake as they disappear across the rubble strewn steep path over the pass (The highest point of the trek at about 13200 feet). It’s a bit of a scramble but its short and the other side is an undulating ramble for a bird’s eye view of the Marsar lake way, way down below. A more forbidding, darker mirror image of Tarsar. This is as close as we’ll get to it. I feel a bit like a Lammergeier sitting 800 feet above the lake on a craggy outcrop. Not ready to fly.

Explore the colours of another far off lake in – Harlequin Holi at Todaraisingh

Day 5: Long walk back to Lidderwat

The night isn’t as cold as I expected camped next to Sundarsar but thats maybe because I am kind of surreptitiously given a fancy extra liner. A good sleep is needed because we are breaking camp at 7 for a long walk straight to Lidderwat instead of spending the night at Homwas, making it a 17 km march that day. I think the weather has a hand in it.

A meandering stream yet to find direction.

Much of it is retracing steps except initially we walk along the base of a valley being drained by the stream coming out from Sundarsar till Shekhwas. Midway the choice is to cross a big boulder fall or cross the stream. Rock and a hard place again. This time the hard place is a springy, narrow bridge across the stream, 9 feet high. Just can’t do it! Finally holding a human mountain goat’s finger I fairly skip across (if I may say so) the boulders through the stream.

We found a deceptive stream in – Chushul – Chumathang : Hello Indus & Iridescent Colours!

That bridge and the human mountain goat.

The weather report is spot on. Within half an hour of reaching Lidderwat the heavens open up gently. Its been a long but fun 10 hours.

Day 6: Rambling back to Aru

Picture postcard from paradise might look like……

I do the 10 kms back to the hamlet almost without a break. There have been arduous moments and moments of ruminating rambling. In the last forest patch with the steep slopes I’m virtually alone for a few minutes and it’s a bit unnerving but then isn’t this the ultimate ending?

Calling it just a trek would be selling it short. Coming up next- the adventure it was and the people I met along the way….we were all walking each other home.

Fact File–

1.Kashmir is an adventure. Period.

2. The hamlet of Aru which about 3 hours from Srinagar is the jumping off point for the trek. Everyone reaches the night before commencing the trek.

3.There are a few trekking groups which do Tarsar Marsar and they do organize pick up and drops from Srinagar. But do check where you are being put up at Aru. There are limited options.

4.Give cushion time for the return flight.

5.I went in first week of September and the sun was strong and the nights cold but not bitterly. Temperature range was 5-15 degree Celsius.

6.Its all about the shoes, shoes, shoes! I saw someone trying to break in a pair. What a bad idea!