THE LAND OF FLYING LAMAS & OTHER REAL TRAVEL STORIES FROM THE INDIAN HIMALAYA

by GAURAV PUNJ

  We asked for directions to the temple at Thava and continued onwards. The trail now climbed above the forest and passed through open expanses of land, some cultivated and some pastures. In the middle of each of these fields were small log huts, most of them in various states of disuse. These were most likely the infamous dwellings of the ‘hippies’ and other such assorted crowd that descended into the Kulu and Parvati valleys during the ‘golden age of weed tourism’, decided it was too cumbersome to keep going back and forth between countries, and chose to stay here instead, permanently, and illegally.

  The locals were first amused, it was just weed after all, they don’t even bother with this grass, but embraced the super profitable ‘tourism’ very soon. Trails start from here and go on to cross the mind-blowingly beautiful Chandrakhani Pass and then to the village, or should I say, the democratic republic of Malana, the birthplace of THE malana cream (the biggest brand name in the world of marijuana). Even now, if you trek here, in Parvati valley especially, you will come across some very brave foreigner, living on either side of the thin line between tourists and felons, but doing so on a high.

  Unknowingly trampling some weed plants under our feet (it pretty much grows wild everywhere), we walked towards a couple in one of the terraced fields to ask them for directions to Thava temple. ‘Yeh jungle ke raste se jaao, short cut,’ the woman replied, with a smile so pretty, Mahesh said he would have ‘taken the short cut to hell if she’d asked’. Not sure if there has been a study done on the effects of inhaling air around where weed is grown, but MJ would have been a good subject that day!

  The ‘jungle ka rasta’ turned out to be bit more wild than we expected, broken at parts, but it was definitely short, and in less than ten minutes we could see a temple ahead. A shila-style temple, which was a surprise considering its distance from Naggar and it being almost in the middle of a jungle. As we approached it, we could see a compound in front and an old man standing outside.

  He must have been surprised to see a bunch of us, obviously not natives, emerging from the thick bushes, but was composed enough to say namaste and pointed us in through the wooden door of the compound. We entered a porch, where we took off our shoes, and in front was a big rectangular courtyard. Straight ahead was a huge tulsi plant and in front of it was the main temple. On our right were two small rooms, for the old man’s family we guessed, and the left was unenclosed, facing the wide open Kulu valley and affording a view if not better, at par with the Naggar castle.

  All of us instinctively went for the view and sat on the parapet looking at it, admiring it, resting our legs, clicking photos, and for a change, not talking too much. Picture time – it’s on page v in the inserts.

  Reality check

  Zahir Mirza

  The ad guy, Doosra Consultancy Pvt Ltd

  The memory of Naggar is as fresh as if it happened yesterday.

  A bunch of city slickers shepherded by GP and regimented by Rujuta. Rajiv walked with his Blackberry Bold, Manu with his memories, Sarika with Rajiv and his Blackberry, Bhavana with her opinions, Mahesh with his knowledge, Madhav with his conscience, and I with cynicism. We looked anything but adventure seekers.

  We walked up the hill, Rajiv and Sarika trailing behind, Madhav and GP leading the way, with no idea of what to expect. And then we saw how the hill sparkled so much in the sunshine, it looked golden. The gang, usually busy chatting, became still. There was something about the hill and the temples we visited that morning.

  This one walk on the hill changed the whole group. Rajiv and Sarika were walking – no, bouncing – like little children. Madhav, Manu and GP were a group, as if catching up on all their wrongdoings in the college they had studied in together. Mahesh was rolling with laughter, and Bhavana was amused. I was still – walking, huffing and puffing – but still. This was soon after my divorce and I found all the answers I wanted. We found stones amusing and a reed meaningful. It was clear that nature had reclaimed each one of us.

  We walked back to the hotel feeling much lighter that late afternoon.

  ***

  ‘Where are you from?’ asked a young woman in halting but decent English. She was the daughter-in-law of the caretaker panditji of the temple, the old man we had met outside, she told us. ‘And how come you know English?’ I asked rather stupidly. ‘I went to school and college,’ came the matter-of-fact reply. ‘Panditji is waiting for you inside the temple, go and see.’

  As we entered the main temple structure, we were surprised by the vast amount of space inside. Even to untrained eyes like ours, we could make out that this portion of the temple was added much later as compared to the sanctum sanctorum, which looked positively ancient with its old rock walls. Inside was an idol of Krishna and Gauri, which was relatively new again, but unlike in so many temples I have seen, the original, a jet black rock cut statue of Krishna was prominently displayed and the panditji looked fondly at it and told us it was more than 1,500 years old!

  Wait a minute: 1,500 years? That’s really, really old. ‘Pandra sau saal?’ Rajiv asked, with a hint of disbelief that was mirrored on most of our faces. ‘It has to be a historic site then. How come it’s not so popular?’ ‘It is a historic site, the oldest in Kulu. Haven’t you heard about the lost city of Thava?’ Panditji spoke in Hindi.

  Ooh, a lost city and all, who knew we would stumble upon one on our ramble. Panditji continued. ‘Thava was the biggest city in Kulu valley at one point and was also the original capital. Our elders told us that after the Mahabharata war, the Pandavas came here and built a castle on the hills – its ruins can still be seen. But then, in the 6th century, it was totally destroyed by a big earthquake, everything except this temple, which was damaged, but miraculously survived.’ He was dead serious.

  Earthquakes destroying entire towns in the Himalaya is not unheard of, it has happened in the recent past with Uttarkashi, so that was plausible, but it was still surprising that such an old temple existed, along with a very interesting story so close to Naggar and Manali and that no one talks about it. Panditji asked us to go around the temple once and as we did so, looking at it from a different perspective. We saw the tilt in the structure – it leaned towards the left (photo on page v in the inserts) – the unique carvings on its walls (at least they looked very different to us), the rath standing at the back (a common sight in important Himalayan temples as the devtas are taken out on some occasions on these chariots) and the strategic view of the Kulu valley. None of these factors proved that the temple was a historic one, but then, neither did they disprove it.

  Jab we wed

  In 2011, Rujuta and I were in Kulu valley during the monsoon; it’s almost an annual ritual with us. We visited the temple at Thava and fell in love with it all over again. Enough to ask Jaydevji, the panditji there, ‘Do people get married here? It seems like a great place to get married.’ ‘Of course. People get married here all the time.’ ‘You can get us married?’ Out of the blue. ‘Ah, yes,’ he said, looking tentatively at us. ‘Your parents know about this?’ ‘No, we just decided one minute ago, but of course we will call our respective families. When can you get us married?’ He consulted his almanac and declared Sunday to be a great day. It was Thursday then. ‘And how much will it cost?’ He did some mental calculations, counted on his fingers, and declared, ‘Rs 5000 for the ceremony and food afterwards for fifteen people.’ We must have looked like we’d just won a lottery.

  We walked down to a coffee shop, where we washed down what had just happened with a cup of coffee. Then frantic calls were made to parents, siblings, close friends, and they must love us dearly as they all assembled in Naggar by Saturday night. Our local drivers, who were also invited as representatives of Naggar, got us a Kulu cap and shawl each. The ceremony in the temple was short and meaningful. Panditji married us in the pahari style, explaining the rituals, and in twenty minutes it was over. We then sat outside in the veranda and were served local d
ishes. It was unbelievably yummy and most of our family and friends seem to remember the meal more than the fact that we got married.

  Jaydevji, that was the name of the panditji, asked us to have a cup of tea before leaving, and as we waited out in the courtyard, a group of four girls, all foreigners, came in, took off their shoes, picked up brooms and a water bucket, and started cleaning the compound. Before it got any weirder, the daughter-in-law, with her three-month-old daughter Priyasakhi tied on her back, came to us with tea and explained. The place is apparently very popular with Russian tourists, especially women, who come here through the year, stay in a small guesthouse behind the temple, are provided with food by Panditji’s family and in return do various chores around the temple. All this happens with little or no communication between the two parties because of the language barrier. You are free to speculate about their motives for staying here based on the facts presented earlier. Thava really was just full of surprises.

  As we walked down from the temple to Naggar, ran down rather, we all had the expression of those who got much more than they had set out for. The shortcut (again) deposited us in the middle of Naggar in about ten minutes and in just the right mood for a nice hot lunch in the balcony of the castle. Which in turn, as it overlooks the winter sun-washed valley, puts one in a contemplative mood. And, I can speak for all of us there, we did do some contemplation: the ‘simplicity’ of our walk today, how without ever feeling like explorers we’d explored, without wanting anything out of the act, we were rewarded, the four temples, the stream, the forest, the log huts, the lost city of Thava, things that sound so enchanting and otherworldly when spoken about, didn’t seem to be a step out of the ordinary when we were there, part of the scene. But then again, as we ate rice with rajma and siddu (Himachali curd), sitting in the balcony of a 16th century castle made of only wood and stone, in line with the snow on the mountain chain opposite us, and a thousand feet above the Beas river flowing down through apple orchards, it could have occurred to us that when in Himalaya, extraordinary is the norm.

  ***

  Raju, the Guide

  Short mein bole toh, Naggar is the definitive place to go to in the Kulu valley.

  More reading

  Some easily-available books and guides that I have managed to read and gain from (books mentioned are about Himachal in general, which also cover Naggar):

  Title

  Category

  Author

  Remarks

  The Temples of Himachal

  Special interest

  Govt of Himachal

  Gives a good account of temples all over Himachal.

  Himachal Pradesh (1993)

  History and people

  Hari Krishan Mittoo

  A concise account of the history, places and people.

  Guide to Trekking in Himachal (2003)

  Guidebook

  Minakshi Chaudhry

  She describes 63 treks that she did, with maps, distances, etc. A very handy book.

  What to do in Kulu valley

  Trekking – This goes without saying, Manali being the adventure hub and all. But sadly, the only trek the trekking agencies are interested in is the one to Beas kund, or in that direction. On a typical summer day, you will meet hundreds, if not more, people huffing and puffing their way up and down, feeling God knows what about walking on trails littered with plastic wrappers and discarded bottles. There are semi-permanent camps set up on the route where hundreds of students from all over India, in a failed attempt by school authorities and parents to give the kids an ‘outdoor’ holiday, are hoarded together like sheep and made to do some inane ‘activities’.

  Okay, enough with the cribbing. There are some fantastic trekking opportunities in Kulu and the surrounding valleys:

  — There are passes that you can cross to reach Lahaul, on the other side of Rohtang.

  —Or you can explore the right bank of the Beas, further down towards Katrain. You can walk to the small villages high on the hills or go for the Bara Banghal trek, the ultimate adventure in Kulu valley.

  —And of course the trek over Chandarkhani Pass to Parvati valley and multiple treks in Parvati valley thereon.

  —Coming up next on the adventure map of the region is the Greater Himalayan National Park in nearby Sainj valley with its multiple trekking, camping and bird-watching opportunities. Gushaini is a quaint village and entry point to GHNP. Raju’s Cottage is the place to stay in Gushaini.

  Rafting – There are plenty of rafting agencies all along the Beas. But pick the stretch that is to your liking and ask about the difficulty level.

  Chilling out – That’s what I do most of the time when in Kulu valley. Naggar is, of course, a superb base for chilling anytime in the year, but if you can brave the monsoon – the uncertainty of roads getting washed away and all that – the entire valley is at its best then, mist over the Beas and apples hanging from trees.

  Point to be noted

  Naggar is just 20 km from Manali, and if you have seen what has happened to Manali it shouldn’t be a tough choice to choose to stay here instead. Only recently have ‘day tourists’ started flocking to see the castle and the Nicholas Roerich art gallery (a must-see by the way), but more to tick them off the list. Visit the temple in Thava or go anywhere above the Naggar town on countless trails leading to some beautiful vistas in less than fifteen minutes of walking. Highly recommended is the short climb to the village of Rumsu, and for a day trip a drive to the hidden, mystical, beautiful, Parashar lake above Kulu.

  Special note

  Here comes my Bollywood connection. Ayan Mukherji, who directed Yeh Jawaani, Hai Deewani is an avid trekker himself and I helped him with locations in Kulu to shoot the trekking scenes, etc. in the film. These are the places in and around Kulu valley where the movie was shot (and trust me they look as good in reality as they did on the screen) – Katrain village on the Beas, Jalori pass (camping site) in the Parvati valley and the deodar forest near Marhi on the way to Rohtang Pass.

  Local service providers

  You won’t need any if you are planning to chill anywhere in Kulu valley. Just hire a local cab and drive around. For trekking around Naggar, I prefer smaller agencies in the town as compared to the ones in Manali. Speak with a few of them and make a decision. For the Bara Banghal trek, you could consider www.bharmourtreks.com.

  Story 4

  Surreal Spiti

  Hand-drawn maps for representation purpose only. Not to scale.

  The setting

  Beyond the greater Himalayan ranges lies the trans-Himalaya, also known as the cold desert or Tibetan plateau. That plateau – actually it’s not a plateau in the true sense of the word; there are mountain chains, rivers and valleys too – extends from Ladakh through Zanskar, then Spiti and proper Tibet itself. Its unimaginable scale, crystal-sharp colours (mainly shades of brown) and its essential nature as a wild, untamed land is a magnet that attracts and doesn’t let go.

  In Himachal, the greater Himalayan ranges pass through Kulu and Kinnaur, separating them from Lahaul and Spiti which become the trans-Himalayan regions. Spiti in particular is unique. It’s actually a collection of small villages along the Spiti river (and some of its tributaries), most of which are situated not on the banks but high up in the mountains. That’s where the pastures are which are crucial for their cattle to graze on. The name Spiti has been interpreted as the ‘middle land’ also; the middle land between Indian Himalayan regions and Tibet or middle land between heaven and Earth, I’m not sure.

  As landlocked goes, Spiti is a perfect exa
mple, just that the locks are some of the highest mountains in the world. Completely impenetrable except over some extremely high passes, Spiti remained more or less unaffected by the political and territorial upheavals that its neighbours Ladakh and Kinnaur faced. This kept it from ‘developing’, in the sense that there was no contact with the outside world, no exchange of ideas, and so on, but what this did was allow it to retain its culture and religion (Tibetan Buddhism) in the purest form. What Spiti is today (religiously speaking) is what Tibet at its peak must have been like. And believe it or not, centuries of isolation have given Spiti a quality that cannot be described, only experienced.

  The young lama

  ‘For how long will you stay in the monastery?’ ‘Marne tak.’ We were silent for a few minutes after the twelve-year-old Dorje Phonchuk said this with a smile and a matter-of-fact tone (maybe there was an uncomfortable giggle in between). In Spiti, the first son inherits the land, the second becomes a monk and the third is educated. A tradition dictated more by the economics of the land (limited cultivable land) than any other factor.

  We were in Dorje’s family homestay in Demul (a village at 4300m). Homestays are a concept started not too long ago by Snow Leopard Conservancy in Ladakh. This way, visitors, instead of pitching tents in village farmland (which benefits nobody), enjoy the warm Spitian hospitality and the host family gains financially. Probably the best of all sustainable tourism initiatives.

  The child lama had a calmness belying his age. ‘Do you miss home?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘What do you do then?’ ‘I play really hard that evening.’ Sorted, this guy was. He lives in Komic monastery, amongst the highest in the world at 4300m, and belonging to the Sakyapa sect of Tibetan Buddhism. What this means is that, unlike the older sect (Nyingmapa), he will not lead a family life and will be celibate for the rest of his life. He goes to a regular school in the morning and has his classes for Buddhist teachings in the afternoon before he gets to his evening round of volleyball and running around. His regular schooling will end once he finishes 5th grade, and from then on it’s a hardcore monastic life for him. And he is ready for that.