Colours of Sikkim

The year 2009 started with a bang as far as travelling is concerned; the Sunderbans in January and Sikkim, Gangtok to be precise, shortly after in February…I was on a roll!
What took me to Gangtok was ostensibly Panu’s brother’s wedding. Apart from the usual excitement, there was also an anticipation of revisiting a familiar world; a feeling of comfort on seeing things one associates with childhood.
I breathed a sigh of relief when the Jet Airways flight finally touched down on the runway in Bagdogra. I had nearly cancelled the trip due to ethnic problems in the Dooars that’s been brewing for almost a year now.  Sikkim is a peaceful state, the most peaceful I would say in maybe the whole of India; no caste skirmishes, no communal riots, no ethnic violence and no scourge of terrorism! Quite heartening to note for a place in the North-East, where every other state is battling with its own separatist movements and insurgency. However to get to Sikkim, one has to come to Siliguri in the Dooars, which is right now a hot bed of political turmoil. Fortunately, things worked out fine in the end and I was on the road to Gangtok, taking in all sights like a greedy child given a choice of candies.
The leisurely five hour long journey by road took us through terraced fields and small villages with the river Teesta quietly accompanying us. It was winter and the landscape was a trifle brown and not the verdant green as in the monsoons. Even the Teesta was tame and in no rush.
The first landmark, I passed by was the Coronation Bridge over the Teesta river. It was built by the British in the year 1930 to commemorate the coronation of King George V, and is an engineering marvel. While newer bridges have collapsed and rebuilt several times due to the numerous landslides in the region, this one has stood the test of time. Numerous monkeys dot the landscape here, waiting for benevolent tourists to throw some food at them. This perfectly encapsulates nature’s ways gone awry; discarding the crude but natural forest produce to forage for the artificial and the easy. In a way, it is also a mirror to our own actions.

The hotel I was staying in was perfectly located with the mighty Kangchendzonga offering a peek of itself on clearer days. The third highest peak in the world, it is more than a mountain to the Sikkimese: it is a guardian deity. So sacred is this mountain, that successive expeditions have left the summit unconquered in deference to local beliefs.
Though I was in Gangtok for a week, I had just two days to take in the sights of the town, and even that was fortuitous given the hectic marriage preparations. Tramping all across the town for small errands, I must have crossed the mall road a hundred times. 
The Sikkim CM has vowed to make Sikkim into Switzerland, though his efforts so far are visible  only on the mall road. It does make for a pretty sight, with benches lined up in the middle of the road, and dainty flowerpots dangling against ornate streetlamps. Traffic is prohibited in this stretch making it a pleasure to walk on the stone floor. The mall road houses several snazzy restaurants and shops. One which captured my imagination was a cozy Western style Bakery called Baker’s Cafe, supposedly the only place in town which sells cappuccinos and lattes; an ideal place to catch up with someone over a cuppa!
The day after the marriage, with everyone in a snooze mood, was one day I found myself free to do as I chose. The first place Panu & I went to was the Do Drul Chorten, which was a walking distance from my hotel. The lamp room, unfortunately was closed for renovation. My carefully laid out plans to click the lit lamps had gone for a toss! After turning the 108 prayer wheels in the complex and clicking numerous pictures of the stupa, the colourful prayer flags, the monks and what have you, we left to go to the Namgyal Institute of Tibetology. The institute sponsors and promotes research on the religion, history, language, art and culture of the people of the Tibetan cultural area. You realize that cultures of Sikkim, Bhutan and Tibet are interlinked by that one thread: Buddhism. The motifs are similar, designs so intricate, the use of red all-pervasive and the buildings, a painter’s palette. The thin line between culture and religion has always been rather fuzzy in India; it is all the more apparent when I see the church, where the marriage vows were solemnized, looking more like a Buddhist place of worship than a Christian one.

After a quick lunch at Porky’s, a restaurant I’ve always wanted to go to because of it’s name, we hired a cab and decided to do a reconnaisance of the outskirts. We passed by several homes along the road; even the smallest and the shabbiest proudly displayed orchids and other local flowers on their window-sils and porch, fine enough to put cityfolks to shame.

Sikkim should be called the land of monasteries: there are so many of them! The last day of my stay was when I went to the Ranka monastery or Lingdum monastery, around an hour’s drive from Gangtok. It is designed in a Tibetan Buddhist style of architecture. One is struck by the silence that envelops you here. Peaceful is the word that strikes you. The long row of prayer wheels beckoned me again to accumulate good karma and to purify negativities. What better way to end my vacation?

Kingdom in the Delta

 Sunderbans, that group of islands in the Bay of Bengal where tiger is the king, is a destination for those who like to be in the middle of nowhere with only the flora and fauna to keep you company. So, there isn’t much tourist traffic coming this way. Thank god for small mercies!

To elaborate on my account, I boarded the cruise from Kolkata at night and it glided silently under the starry sky while I slept. The morning brought the first glimpses of the mangroves…those islands of green interspersed in the blue-green Sunderban waters.

 

 

At the crack of dawn, we transferred from the cruise to a launch to see the tiger from close quarters, or at least that was the idea. A distant red in the horizon gave way to a frenzied clicking of the sunrise as the red glow transformed into a ball of fire. There is something about sunrise and sunsets that makes the most ordinary folks into passionate photographers.

Our launch took us to the island of Dobanki where tigers can be often spotted. As we waited in the early morning chill, we noticed something ambling towards us in the haze. The more imaginative among us excitedly whispered, “tiger!” The wave of euphoria caught the rest of us till everyone waited in anticipation of the venerable beast of the jungle. A little while later however, what we thought was ‘the lord of the jungle’ turned out to be a spotted deer foraging for its breakfast.

Our growling stomachs reminded us that we needed our own refills and we boarded our launch to go back to the cruise. The breakfast spread was one of the most lavish one could expect away from civilization……..fluffy idlis, poha, scrambled eggs, sausages, assorted breads, parantha, egg bhurji, fried tomatoes made my day. After having had our fill, it was time to explore the Sunderbans again. We transferred to the launch yet again. The boat took us to the narrower stretches where the cruises couldn’t normally traverse. The fact that Sunderban is the biggest mangrove ecosystem in the world is brought home when you see the diverse flora and fauna of the place. Stilt roots supporting trees in the mud and “breathing roots” pushing their way towards the sky through the mud in the marshy land are a common ecological adaptation visible to the eyes. Sunderbans are not just home to the dreaded tiger, but also the crocodiles that thrive in the marshy land, deer, dolphins and birds of various hues.

 

  

 

We also had a speedboat at our disposal, and it further helped us to go places that even a launch cannot go to. Spying a rifle in the speedboat brought home how vulnerable we were in the water. A stealthy tiger could easily have taken us unawares. But, an animal usually avoids confrontation with humans and so it is with the tiger also.

The ride did not yield much success in terms of seeing the majestic beast. However, we saw numerous deer, a crocodile sunbathing along the banks and birds; one a flaming orange kingfisher! Once back on the cruise, it was time for lunch, which again made me wonder where all the food was coming from in the midst of mangroves.

The afternoon was spent lazing around in the cruise, exploring the amenities, clicking pictures of the sunset and generally having a good time.

 

 

There was a small soirée in the evening and wine flowed freely. There was a small magic show by a forest department staff and a local folk dance. We joined in and after a few steps realized that the innocuously simple steps were actually deceptive. After ten minutes, I was panting and went back for some more wine in the winter chill. Floating on water, the legend of Bonbibi came alive as the drama troupe from one of the several Sunderban villages enacted the folklore aboard the cruise.

Bonbibi (the protector of the forest) wanted to rule the Sunderbans jointly with Narayani, mother of Dakshin Ray. Dakshin Ray, Lord of the Tigers, refused as he wanted to be the sole ruler and wanted human blood in return for collection of honey.

Dukhe, son of a poor widow, was apprenticing with this uncle Dhana, a rich merchant. One day Dakshin Ray appeared in his dream and asked for the sacrifice of Dukhe, in exchange for honey and wax from the forest. His greed getting the better of him, Dhana agreed and left Dukhe in the forest to become the tiger’s dinner. Dukhe remembered his mother’s advice of invoking Bonbibi’s blessings in times of need. She appeared with her brother Shah Jongolee and saved Dukhe from the tiger. In the end, Dakshin Ray admitted defeat and promised that anybody offering prayers to Bonbibi before entering the forest would not be harmed. 

And that is how the legend of Bonbibi grew, a legend of a deity who is worshipped by Hindus and Muslims alike and on both sides of the border: in India and in Bangladesh. Small temples dedicated to Bonbibi in the various islands stand testimony to the absolute faith that locals have in the divine. They also bear witness to the communal harmony that can exist between two religions, which have historically been at odds with each other in the rest of the country.

I intended waking up the next morning to capture the sunrise. But I realized that when you’re on vacation, it’s difficult to do something like waking up early. So I lolled about in the bed long after the sun rose. As we inched towards habitation, I saw numerous dinghies and small fishing boats dotting the landscape. Fishing is not allowed in the Sunderban waters for ecological reasons and the only contraption we saw there were launches ferrying tourists. The sun glimmered on the water, and as I pointed at some boats to shoot, a few fishermen got excited and waved back. Further ahead, I saw a few fishing villages with boats aground on the banks.

 

 

 

In general, the air of tranquility was all pervasive. The winter sun seemed to be smiling on the world. It reminded me of the French poem

“Le soleil brille pour tout le monde,

il ne brille pas dans les prisons,

 il ne brille pas pour ceux qui travaillent dans la mine

……… ceux qui ont du travail…”

The lines translate as, the sun shines for everyone, it doesn’t shine in the prisons, it doesn’t shine for those who work in the mines, and those who have work. I couldn’t agree more. The prison reminded me of Delhi (metaphorically speaking) and I delighted in the fact that I was away from it all. As I spent the day clicking photos and savouring the wonderfully delicious Bengali cuisine for lunch on board, we had already reached the quay near the Millenium Park in Kolkata. It was disappointing to walk on terra firma after gliding on the hungry tides of the Sunderbans. But there were unexplored horizons still……

Cruising Around

After almost 2 months of looking around for quick weekend getaways from Delhi, we finally zeroed in on Nainital. The destination was finalized just a week before leaving. Not very original on first thought, but that was how it was after taking numerous considerations into account. The weekend in question was the 3 day long break after 15Th August and getting acco at the last minute in Nainital (with the entire Delhi crowd descending on the place), was well nigh impossible. However, thanks to Anita’s army connection, we got great rooms for a day and that too just opposite the lake. The rooms were luxurious with a huge bed and an equally huge bathroom. It even had this quaint concept of a dressing room!!

We reached Nainital around early afternoon. The light drizzle on the way had turned into a downpour. Since we were all tired from the journey, the day was spent idling around in Nainital in a quintessential tourist way: boating and walking the length of the mall road, shopping for stuff you will never use. 

Along the way Photo: Sandeep

The next day was more interesting as we were going to Binsar, away from the crush of tourists. Since we had a cab to our disposal, we stopped at quite a few places including a stop at Jageshwar temples. It turned out to be one huge disappointment! After having seen temples like Baijnath (in Uttarakhand) and Hatkoti temple (in Himachal), Jageshwar turned out to be like any other temple in the city. Individual havans had taken away the pristine beauty of the place. The stream running beside the temple was littered with the remains of the havan and the usual wrappers, plastics etc , not to mention that the entrance was crowded with the numerous stalls hawking ‘religious’ stuff. The architecture itself was old though and it would have made for a pretty sight, situated as it was among the pines. 

Jageshwar Temple

We reached Binsar around late evening. Inquiries at the various resorts confirmed our worst fears; almost all of them were booked out. However, by a stroke of luck, the tourist office informed us of the “Eco Lodge” within the Binsar wildlife sanctuary. This was an initiative of the government to give support to the villagers who had lost their means of livelihood, when the forest was declared a protected zone.

Road in Binsar

We had to trek 2 kms in the forest to reach our mud house built in the traditional pahari fashion. The place had no electricity and by a strange combination of events, we found ourselves trekking through the narrow paths at night, with only the hazy moonlight streaming through the clouds, praying we wouldn’t slip down the mountain. Jyoti almost did and we walked even more gingerly after that. The place was beautiful at night with not a soul nearby. I was looking at stars after a long time. The dinner was wholesome and we gorged on the fresh rotis with great gusto.

Eco Lodge Photo: Sandeep

On the way to Eco Lodge

The next morning, we did a small trek to the zero point (I wonder why all trekking destinations are called zero point), from where you can supposedly see a few peaks. However, that morning it was raining and far from seeing the peaks, you couldn’t even see a few metres ahead. It was great to just trek though.

In the course of our travel, we realized that not having prior bookings in such a weekend was a bad idea. Hotels in even little known places like Ramgarh were fully booked. Not to be daunted, we went further ahead to Mukteshwar, and sure enough we got a decent place called Anand Resorts, to stay in with a great view to boot at very reasonable rates. I wouldn’t recommend the food though, which was unappetizing and expensive. We had to return the next day to Delhi. En route, we visited Ghorakhaal, which was where Anubhav had done his schooling from. A particular viewpoint at the place gives a panoramic view of the Bhimtaal lake and the nearby areas. The rains seemed to have painted everything with a fresh coat of paint. It felt good to indulge one’s senses. However, we had to leave for Delhi and we were running short of time. Waving a hasty goodbye to the place, we started our long ride back to Delhi marking the end of the good times…….. at least for a while!

Panorama from Ghorakhaal

Live like you were Dying

“I went skydiving
I went rocky mountain climbing
I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu
And I loved deeper
And I spoke sweeter
And I gave forgiveness I’d been denyin’
And he said some day I hope you get the chance
To live like you were dyin’ …………”

I’ve loved this song by Tim McGraw from the moment I heard it. It talks about the things this guy (someone the singer knows) does when he knows he’s about to die. Life is short and when it’s the end, it unlikely that you’ll feel proud about spending more time in the office (at least I won’t!). It’s the small things in life that count towards the end and that’s what the song is about. I’ve already made the ‘List of 30 before turning 30′ and I guess, its never too soon to make your own “bucket list”. So here’s mine and I’ll keep adding to it, cause you never know when you’ll kick the bucket and regret not having done things you’d like to do.

1. Visit Macchu Picchu
2. Visit the Rio carnival
3. Take my parents to Masai Mara
4. Go up to at least the Everest Base camp
5. See the Northern Lights
6. Go around the world in my own boat
7. Visit all the continents
8. Visit all the states in India
9. Buy my own house and then spend time making it into exactly what I want, especially a cottage in the hills
10. Learn to Ski
11. Run a marathon
12. Go canoeing or kayaking
13. Take horseback riding lessons
14. Learn a martial art
15. Go scuba diving
16. Go white water rafting
17. Learn to juggle
18. Learn to make pottery
19. Take up yoga and make it a way of life
20. Go for Oktoberfest in Munich

Down Nostalgia Lane in the Dooars

As the plane taxied on the runway in Bagdogra, I couldn’t help but feel a wee bit of dissapointment. The weather in Delhi had been pleasantly cool for the past few days and here I was in North Bengal wiping away the first drops of perspiration. Yet, it felt strangely exhilerating to be back in North Bengal after 8 years….probably the feeling one gets on coming back home from foreign lands.

The ride from Bagdogra to Sukhna was familiar. Nothing much had changed; there was still that languid air when all people do in afternoons is either sleep or huddle in groups watching cars go. Small houses with potted plants decorating the small entrances is no anomaly. Time seemed to move lazily there encouraging me to live in the ‘now’. It seems like a nice life and even poverty seems poetic.

The four day stay in the Dooars was a whirlwind of activities-hopping from one forest rest house to the other, gorging on delicious Bengali cuisine and of course soaking in the tranquility of North Bengal.

The first stop was at Sukhna, the transit point linking Darjeeling with the Dooars and one of my favourite forest rest houses in West Bengal. A scrumptious lunch comprising ‘papda’ was awaiting us. The buzz of the crickets was reassuring, flooding me with memories of the endless afternoons I’d spent in my childhood at the place.  

The halt for the night was at Hollong, another old haunt. Located inside the Jaldapara wildlife sanctuary,  the Hollong rest house has always remained an absolute favourite. The kitchen in this rest house once boasted of a chef straight from the King of Coochbehar’s palace. It is also one of the most picturesque with a stream running right in front of it. Many a night has been spent waiting to spot animals coming to the clearing next to the stream. Not to forget the numerous elephant rides I’d taken in early dawn hoping to catch  glimpse of some animals. Unfortunately, for these same reasons, it’s also a huge favourite with the tourists. Fortunately, the inflow is not so high as to disturb the ecology of the place.

Mama Elephant with Baby in tow

North Bengal is full of places with quaint, outlandish names like Khuniya, Gairkata, Hashimara etc. It was one of these places called Rajabhatkhawa that was next on our map. Rajabhatkhawa (literally Kings eat Rice) was supposedly the place where the King of Bhutan and King of Coochbehar signed a treaty followed by a banquet of course. Hence the name! A trip to the 23rd milestone watchtower from this place was its highlight. Now this watchtower is in the middle of the forest and it’s not unusual to spot a herd of bisons grazing nonchalantly or even an elephant drinking water at one of the water holes in the early morning. The elusive tiger is well….elusive! It’s quite a trick to spot one and since it was almost noon by the time we reached the place, we satisfied ourselves simply by drinking in the greenery of the place.  The green colour is most unusual there. It’s like seeing the world with a double green filter! We saw hundreds of butterflies congregating at the various damp patches of earth flitting away the minute we reached a few inches from them. Watching the forest from a watchtower, one couldn’t help feeling that god is the greatest artist of them all. Hearing the symphony of birds, I wondered if there was a sound more soothing than that. A sound which heralds life and makes you want to weep with joy!

 

Despite the seemingly lazy time, my four day holiday was edging to its end. We had been travelling from one place to the other and most of the time was spent on the road. The roads were surprisingly not pot holed at this time of the year. For those unfamiliar with the topography of the Dooars, it would be no exaggeration, if I wrote that the the worst Delhi roads were like polished steel compared to those in North Bengal. Nonetheless, most stretches were so beautiful so as to make you forget all else. Trees, some in full bloom, lined both sides of the road. We passed through villages where the huts were hidden by clusters of supari trees. Children gamboled in the local pond, splashing about like children will. It makes one smile to think that life is still uncomplicated for some.

A road in the Dooars

The Supari Trees near the Road

After spending a night at Chapramari, another of those weird sounding places, we had to say our goodbye to the place. The ride back to Bagdogra was difficult. It was like leaving behind someone you love. But can you leave your loved one for long?

Walk to a Glacier and Back

Azure sky above, glaciers around, green meadows dotted with a thousand tiny flowers below and everything else in a limbo…. I was looking at the snow capped peaks of Nanda Kot and Nanda Khat, silently applauding god on his masterpiece. Having the Great Himalayas looking down benevolently at us is a humbling experience and I could only gawp at nature’s wonders.

 

Delhi, where this idea of a trek to Pindari glacier transpired, was another place in another time. Tired of the bright city lights, I and a motley bunch of Indians of various ethnicities and an Australian, decided to take off for the solitude of the mountains. Pindari Glacier, one of the most accessible Himalayan glaciers with an inflow of only around 1000 tourists per year, was my promised land. A long ride till Bageshwar, then another ride till Saung in a creaky old contraption, and then yet another cramped ride in an even creakier one halfway to Loharkhet and our trek had started. The initial stretch turned out to be too steep for novices like us and the stop for lunch at Loharkhet tourist rest house was a relief. The food, with a smoky taste, turned out to be the best I’d had in a long time and the early hours-10 O’ clock in the morning- didn’t deter me from piling on food, enough to give a stomach ache in other circumstances. We were off again after the lovely meal. Each of us trudged along in silence, maybe drowsy from the heavy meal but mostly because there wasn’t much need for speech anyway. Instead, the usually dormant senses had come alive with nature’s offerings–variegated shades of green, the faint tinkling of cow bells, the sound of flowing water, the rustle of leaves beneath our feet, the taste of wild strawberries and the smell of the earth.

We stopped at places that inspired a photographer in us and for some chai. That Maggi is immensely popular along the trek is evident from the menu list at all the food stalls- ‘Lunch’, ‘Dinner’, ‘Breakfast’ followed by the inevitable Maggi. Dhakuri was our halt for the day. This is where we managed to get a peek at snow clad peaks of Nanda Devi through the clouds.

We had lost track of time knowing only sunrise and sunset. It was a time for introspection and reflection while we trekked along the Pindar River next day to Dwali via Khati. Legend has it that the Pandavs came to conduct the last rites for the departed souls, the ritual called Pind-daan in Hindi and hence the name. It was a beautiful river, with quaint wooden bridges across it at several places. Yet it wasn’t a tame river, with stretches where it became a roaring, boiling, rumbling leviathan. The creaky wooden bridges, with a missing slat or two not really inspiring our confidence, helped us cross anyway.

 

The distance from Dwali to Phurkia is a mere 5 kms and this is where having a package with KMVN really pinched! It restricted possibilities and had we not been tied up, we could have trekked till Zero point, camped overnight and trekked back to Khati the next day, and in the process save a day! Not that we were in a hurry to complete the trek, but idling around at one place wasn’t really enticing. We spent time near the waters of Pindar at day. The water was ice cold while we had a blazing sun overhead. A striking contrast! Bon fires at night had become de rigueur in this journey and we asked Sushil, our porter, to make some arrangements in the evening. A resourceful person, he got the fire working. Phurkia was a place we missed camping sorely since the rest house looked quite menacing in the dark and the bathroom looked haunted. It wasn’t the most comfortable place I had stayed at. Yet the promise of what tomorrow was to bring, kept up the high spirits. Our trek to Zero Point started early in the morning. We needed to catch a glimpse of the snow peaks before it got fogged up. The route was treacherous in places and we had to use all our limbs to climb. Crossing the huge swathes of snow covered with sleet seemed like an impossible task and it took us several minutes to navigate this stretch.

A couple of hours later we found ourselves at a Babajee’s. A trek to the glacier is not complete without the mandatory stop at his place. The house that he’s built for himself is quite a comfortable one with a telescope and library to boast of, not to mention the amphitheatre like view of the glacier visible from his stone house. He provides food to all free of charge, and it’s become quite a tradition now to drop off some donation- makes sense in order to keep the free food going! The topography in this stretch had considerably changed with trees giving way to grassy slopes and the air becoming cooler. Sushil informed us that in the months of October, one could even spot a snow leopard and other animals of the higher reaches. It gave us another excuse to come again. To say that the place was beautiful wouldn’t do justice to it. It isn’t often that you get to see nature in its pristine glory. Flowers that you didn’t know existed forced their way out of tiny crevices, the air was so crisp that you’d want to fill in your lungs with all the supply you’d ever need and who would think of snow in June when the rest of the country was sweltering? The last point on the trek, prosaically called ‘The Zero Point’ was marked by a sign board next to a deep chasm. This was the destination. Strangely though, the destination was not our quest and it was only another stop along the way. This did not mean however that the place had left us untouched. Nonetheless, to put it in Ruskin Bond’s words, “The adventure is not in getting somewhere, it’s the on-the-way experience. It is not the expected; it’s the surprise”. Half an hour later, as if to say goodbye, the fog had enveloped everything in its fold and the mountains were lost, leaving us to continue onwards on our journey.

The return turned out to be a test of sorts for us. While returning from Phurkia to Dwali, it started raining like there’s no tomorrow and the five km stretch stretched on to eternity. I had sprained my ankle at zero point, and even though Sandeep had done some first aid and it seemed like it was going to be okay, the constant rain beating down on us made it worse. The water seeped in through my shoes and everything felt sticky and damp. Our waterproof gear was only a small consolation. Only Joel was the happiest of the lot: He had an umbrella! His bag was like a magic lamp throwing up the most useful stuff at the required times. By the time we reached Dwali, my ankle had swollen and become the size of an apple. What was worse, our clothes in the rucksack were wet too. So the better part of the evening was spent in tending to my swollen ankle, drying our clothes required for immediate use and drying our shoes over the fire that was made with damp sticks; needless to say it was a herculean task. Most times, there was more smoke than fire and the little fire that we had threatened to go out after every half an hour.

Thankfully, we did not face further mishaps after this. On our way, in a little tea shack we came across a group of villagers carrying a sick woman back to their village. Apparently, the doctors in Bageshwar, the nearest town, had been unable to diagnose anything or maybe they didn’t want to. To add to that, the villagers had incurred huge expenses in the process without any result. Now the only thing left to do was take her back and wait for her to die. It was a rude shock for me to come across such a scenario which is an everyday affair for people in villages. All the talks about India being the next superpower seem hollow when you think that basic medical care is denied to majority of the people. I wasn’t sure that the illness was so severe that nothing could be done about it. We walked on in a sombre mood after that. The beauty of the place had diminished somewhat. What we call pristine and unexplored is okay as long as you’re just visiting the place. It’s a different story when you need to live there and face the challenges.

In Apple Town Rohru

Biting into a red apple with its juice trickling down our fingers and having a competition of sorts on who could make the loudest crunch, was our introduction to Rohru! This little known place bang in the middle of the largest apple belt in Himachal Pradesh is surprisingly unscathed by tourist hordes despite being only 110 kms away from Shimla.

We had unexpectedly stumbled upon this place when Anubhav decided to launch the EFYE program in Rohru. Travelling from Shimla, we came across several trucks laden with apples. Our cab driver happened to be friends with most of them, which resulted in an apple bounty for us. Munching the apples, while soaking in the warm afternoon sun with a view of the mountains to die for, summed up my idea of an ideal holiday. Traditionally built houses dotted the landscape, with rooms which had numerous windows covering the entire length and breadth of it.

We reached Rohru late in the afternoon, travelling along the river Pabbar with the water glittering under the overhead sun. We happened to visit this place right in the middle of the apple harvesting season and the place was abuzz with activity. The harvest had been good and as evening approached, people chose to show their happiness in a way that is universal—by drinking-in the streets, in the bars, at home…. it was a time to eat, drink and be merry!
Though, this small town is so far removed from the tourist itinerary, it has a circuit house and a hotel called “Hotel Chanshal” which offers all the facilities of a three star hotel. Seema College, Rohru had been very gracious and encouraging of the program and had booked the circuit house for us which turned out to be one of the better places I had stayed at. The rooms were clean and spacious, with a view of river Pabbar to boot. The place to stay taken care of, we decided to explore the town. In the fading lights of the day, we came across several buses, cabs, shops with “Jai Hatkeshwari Devi” emblazoned on them. On some enquiries, we found that Hatkeshwari Devi is a local deity, greatly revered across Shimla district. Hatkoti temple housing Hatkeshwari Devi is an ancient temple said to go back to the time of the Pandavas. They are said to have visited this place in the 13th year of their exile.
We decided to visit the temple the next day after wrapping up our work in the afternoon.
In the midst of green paddy fields, and Pabbar river flowing by not too far off, Hatkoti temple is not your usual brick-and-cement-structure passed of as an ancient temple. As we entered the temple, two huge pots, believed to have descended from the heavens via river Pabbar, were kept at the entrance. We had reached just in time for the evening ‘aarti’ and the Prasad cooked in pure ghee. As I savoured the hot halwa, I wondered if it was appropriate to ask for a second helping. However, the thought was soon abandoned, as I saw myself lagging behind the others. The temple is built in the classical Shikhara or tower style. The 5 devalayas to the left of the temple are said to represent the 5 pandavas. This is dated to 7th-8th century.

 

As I remember my stay at the place, I can’t help but feel a longing to go back for it is one of the places unspoilt by the ubiquitous commercialization seen in almost all of the mountain states. Yet, it has all the things one could wish for in an ideal holiday spot….it is a trekker’s mecca, an angler’s haven and an epicurean’s delight.
Staying at Rohru made us familiar with the various territorial food like Siddu and Madhra. The former is a dumpling with sweet and savoury filling, mostly had with ghee, while the latter is kidney beans cooked in generous amount of ghee and curd. Fattening no doubt, but the salubrious climes of Himachal take care of that I guess! Our host Gopal sir, from the local college in Seema, made sure we got to taste the local cuisine and arranged for us to have Siddu and Madhra, the former cooked especially for us by his wife.
Rohru is famous for its trout and there are various angling sites ideal for fishing. Unfortunately, as we had gone on business and didn’t have much time, we couldn’t really indulge ourselves in the sport. Pirta Sir, a colleague of Gopal sir in Seema college promised us trout the next time we came. Great incentive to come back!
Apples are the lifeblood of Rohru and account for 60% of the total apple crop in Himachal Pradesh. That apple is such an important part of the place is gauged from the fact that attendance in the local colleges drops drastically during this time. Almost everyone owns an orchard and all family members help out during the harvest time.

On one of the days with clear skies, we decided to hit the road to Chanshal pass, a local picnic spot and yet spotlessly clean. Apple orchards lined one side of the road and the joy of plucking the apples straight from trees and sinking one’s teeth into them, can only be felt. Though the best time to see ripe fruit is between September and November, the trees begin flowering around April —pale white blossoms lining up the road. It must be a beautiful sight. Just be careful of asking permission though, for plucking fruits or walking into the orchard. Most times, they are gracious enough to let you pick up a few fruits.

The sky was the brightest blue and the air was crisp and cool. In the distance, snow clad mountains peeped out of the clouds. It was straight out of some picture postcard.

The climb up to the pass simply took one’s breath away in more ways than one. The roads to Chanshal were extremely muddy and slippery due to rain. The SUVs one generally encounters on city roads were quite useless and it was Mahindra jeeps that came to rescue. Twice our Toyota almost skidded off the road and it was with certain uneasiness that we covered the rest of the journey. Not to say that the jeep was safe, as you can see from the photo, but at least it didn’t get stuck in the mud!

On reaching the top everything else was forgotten and it was well worth the effort. We got an unobstructed view of the mountain ring surrounding the valley. However, in a matter of a few minutes it clouded over and the view of snow was gone. It was cold at the top. Furious winds threatened to blow us off down the hills. I suppose that would have been a faster way to reach the valley than the cab circuit!

Our leaves were going to end soon and we had to reach Delhi the next morning. It had got quite late by the time we managed to leave the place and it looked more and more unlikely that we’d reach on time for the bus. The local driver, Pappu who’d driven us to Rohru drove us back to Shimla in record time and we reached just in time for the departing bus.
As I recall my stay in Rohru with fond memories, I’m glad there are places like these which haven’t hit the tourist itinerary. Rather selfish I acknowledge, yet the gross commercialization of most “hill stations” makes you wish for the pristine environs you could escape to. And that’s exactly what Rohru offers you.
Photo – Kumar Anubhav

Last Two Days in Beijing

It was back to Beijing after a long and lazy time in Wuhan. It felt good to be back in Beijing. We decided to go to the Beijing opera in the evening despite the ho-hum reviews from friends. Since we didn’t know how and from where to get the tickets for the opera directly, we took the tour organized by the hostel we were staying in. The price was 150 Rmb per person and I suppose this is the standard rate across hotels. The van came at 6 to pick us up for a 7:30 show. An awful waste of 1 and a half hours I must say! The van picked a few other people from other hostels as well. We reached quite early and kept waiting for the show to begin. The rest of the people trickled in slowly at first and then by hordes. Not many Chinese in the hall. I suppose they know what a humbug it is! But anyway, the Chinese really know how to make money. Apart from the ticket cost, they also charge for the program cost, the headphone rental etc. Didn’t have much use of either unless you plan to take the former as some kind of souvenir. The opera started with some kind of musical recital. Thankfully, few lines were flashed across the hall in English. Though there weren’t many lines spoken, the translation helped set the context and understand the opera better. Surprisingly, it wasn’t all that bad. In fact, some of the acrobatics on stage kept us engaged. The first piece was about a military soldier disguised as a civilian to protect some exiled general and how he meets with the villain who wants to stop him. The second was about a nymph who falls in love with some scholar and fights a battle with the Gods who are angry at her for falling in love with a mortal. Or at least this is how I interpreted it. Not bad at all, but nothing to recommend either!

The next morning we had to get up early to go to the wall. We chose to go to the Mutianyu section rather than the closer and more touristy Badaling section and I’m glad we did. Since the Mutianyu section is not greatly frequented, its not easy to get there either. We had two options: Either take the tour organized by the hostel (which does not allow flexibility and needless sight seeing you’d want to skip) or take the public transport. This was the nth time I thanked God that Panu knew Mandarin. We took the subway till Dongzhimen and got onto bus no 916 till Huairou International Conference Centre) and then a cab to the wall. To get to the wall (which is at quite a height), one can either take the slideway or the cable car. Having already experienced the toboggan in Moshan, we took the cable car this time. It was a short ride and most times Panu was petrified that our cable car would snap or topple or some such thing. We reached at 10 and there were only a few tourists around; hardly 50 I reckon.

We were free to walk around without elbowing our way ahead and no hawkers trying to sell you wares. Sure we came across a couple selling water and cold drinks but they just let us be when we didn’t want to buy anything. We walked towards the steep section of the wall which took us about 2 hours and a half. The fact that we were walking on the Great Wall was exhilarating! I mean its not everyday that you get to see one of the wonders of the world. But all the talk of being able to see it from the moon is all hogwash. You could hardly see the distant sections of the wall; they were so tiny even from a few kilometres away.

 

This was the second last day of my stay in China and it was time to go back home. The thought wasn’t particularly enticing. Most Indians crib about the food in China, yet mercifully I had no problem at all. Maybe because I’m not a vegetarian. Some of the poignant memories I have are that of the people I met during my travel: Lien Cheng, the Han Chinese we met in the train to Tibet, the Tibetan lady who gave us shelter in her tea-house during the riots in Lhasa, Andy who I met in Lhasa during the curfew hours in the hostel, and the Kham woman with turquoise in her hair.

Another vivid memory or rather observation is that in the tourist throngs from across the globe, I saw few Indians and the only family I came across was an NRI family. Are Indians just plain unimaginative when it come to vacations or is the West too irresistible?

More on Wuhan

Like I wrote earlier, we’ve decided to stay in Wuhan instead of going to Guilin as earlier planned. There’s not much to do here unlike Beijing. That’s not to say that Wuhan is any less interesting. Everything in China fascinates me; be it the people or their culture. I’ve discovered that Chinese men are so much more well-behaved than their Indian counterparts. In fact, they’re so shy that the boy and girl need to be introduced by mutual friends before they start going steady. The boy does not approach the girl directly! Also, it is the guy who needs to pay for everything on a date or even the girl’s shopping. He even has to hold her bag while walking! So picture this: a couple is walking. The girl has latched on to one arm of the boy and he is holding the girl’s bag with the free hand. The girl points to anything she wants and the guy is compelled to buy it. Wow! Talk about luxury

Anyhow, getting on with my travel stories, we’d gone to the Yellow Crane , the Wuhan zoo and Moshan, the botanical garden. The zoo was a big downer and I regret ever going there. I had gone to see the Giant Panda, which I think died because there was one stuffed panda in its place! The place was more like a circus. To add to that, there were dogs: dalmatians, cocker Spaniels and German shepherds stuffed inside cages. Even more horrifying was to see a stray dog inside the lioness’ cage, both sitting in total nonchalance of each other’s presence. Gone was the majesty of the King (rather Queen) of the Jungle! It was distressing to say the least.

The yellow crane tower was beautiful! It was one of the recommended places to visit by China Travel Guide. Unfortunately, like most places in China, the significance of a monument and its description in English is scant if not totally absent.

The only thing I know of the place was that it became famous due to poems written on it during the Tang Dynasty. This was the first time I had come across a name other than the usual Ming and Qing dynasties dominating almost the entire architecture in Beijing. The tower has five floors and looks the same from all directions. Even though the entire complex is named after the tower, there’s much to see. There’s an enormous bronze bell and the upper floors of the tower provide a great view of the place. We however missed the musical performance of classical instruments that is held in the premises.

 

Moshan or Mo Hill, overlooking the East lake, was a fun place to be in. However its so huge that it’s not possible to cover the entire thing in one day. We walked in the direction of the Chu culture theme park. The Chu market was passable. The Chu Heaven Platform is some kind of Chu dynasty museum. They even have a short musical performance where the performers wear classical chu costumes. The music was pleasant with the Guzheng lending an unmistakable ancient Chinese era feel to the whole experience.

I rode on a tandem bicycle for the first time. I’ve always wanted to ride on one ever since I read about it in Archies’ as a kid. I also had a go at the toboggan ride from Chu Heaven Platform. The Chinese know how to make money! They even charge you to go up by the toboggan. I mean isn’t it obvious that if one goes up for the ride, she’d definitely want to come down sliding or whats the big idea of taking the toboggan?

We were invited for dinner to Chicony by Nadeem, a Pakistani friend of Panu. The food was awesome. In fact , I’ve realized that the Chinese breads are a lot like Indian naans and paranthas. Just the other day, we had naan at a street side stall. It looked the same as the Indian one, just that it was sweet. At Chicony, we had this fish which looked like it had been turned inside out and is called songziyu or pine nut fish. We’ve been following http://www.howtoorderchinesefood.com/ like bible for ordering food and this calls it the inside-out fish and we’ve started calling it the same. The Chinese do not eat lamb generally since they mostly prefer beef and pork. But this was a Muslim restaurant, and it had mutton instead of pork. I’ve also become a great fan of the green tea which takes some time in getting used to. Had without any milk or sugar, the taste is rather ‘grassy’, for want of a better word. But its a healthier alternative to the usual black tea. I think the Chinese really need the antioxidants present in the tea to counter the endless smoking they do. Sometimes I think this habit is a hangover of their opium addiction era.

Wuhan-The Promised Land

This is the second day of my stay in Wuhan: ‘the promised land’, the name I keep teasing Panu with, because he kept putting off everything till we reached Wuhan. After the Tibet adventure, we’re tired and have decided to stay put here till 22Nd. Wuhan I’ve discovered is so much more cheaper than Beijing and I’ve been doing all my shopping here. I went to Carrefour and on the way came across this place where the doves are really friendly or maybe just hungry! They are so tame that they literally eat out of your hands.

Wuhan Daxui (pronounced Tash-way) or university, is transformed into some kind of a tourist place in spring. Cherry blossoms are in full bloom and I saw people getting their pictures clicked in various corny poses. It seems that the university was some kind of a base for the Japs, and they planted the cheery blossoms to feel more at home. A long tunnel which served as a bomb shelter during WWII reinforces the Japanese presence here.

River Yangtze flows through the city and we took a cruise down the river to the other side of the city yesterday. The cruises are not unlike our very own cruise from Gateway of India in Mumbai.

While walking in Hankou, the commercial area of the city we walked into some kind of an exotic meat shop. Apart from the turtles, tortoise, clams, shrimps, there were..hold your breath…snakes, which were selling for 80 Yuan per piece. Pretty steep I must say! I haven’t really come across anyone eating snake meat in the time I’ve spent in China. Perhaps its only the upmarket hotels and restaurants which serve snakes.

Eating out is quite big in China and more so in Wuhan. At times, the food vendors do not even know the name of the stuff they are selling. I had squid, clams, lotus root, candied fruits stuck on a stick in Hu Bu Xiang, Wuchang. The vendors were even selling snails which I did not have the stomach to taste. There were the famous duck necks as well as chicken feet, which I gave a miss too.

Today in the evening, we had dinner at Panu’s friends’ apartment and we topped off the meal with some Baijiu, a highly potent, clear Chinese alcohol. Its alcoholic strength can vary between 55% and 65%. The one we had was a milder version I guess, with alcohol content of 55% but about one tenth of a medium paper glass felt like I had just had a whole bottle of nail polish remover. It cost a whopping Yuan 500. To put the price in perspective, I guess an example would help. It costs about Yuan 100 for a bottle of Chivas Regal!