The Mishmi land :Glow lake (Glao)

March 1st, 2012

The Mishmi tribe has 3 subtribes and Mizu Mishmi, Idu Mishmi and Digaru Mishmi. The region I have entered is of the Mizu Mishmi’ tribe and its believed this tribe not too long ago they lived up in the mountains near a huge lake, the lake is still present and is named after the place Glao’ or Glow lake. As the foundation for the roads in this area were being laid out these tribes came down from their ancestral place and built settlements closer to the road. However people still use the lake to catch fish and leave their cattle (Mithun’s) in this jungle to graze. There is one care taker who feeds salt to these animals so that they still remain domesticated.

My agenda became very clear, to see this ancestral place with a locals and to be safe and not disturb any sentiments of people as there were some obligatory rituals to be performed before we reach the lake and to show me the way, traversing through thick tropical forest with a few varieties if big cats. It takes  6 -7 hrs to reach the lake.

The next few days I spent in finding someone to take me there. Interestingly it was more difficult to find one because of the time I was there. The reason: It is a last few days of harvesting the Opium crop. Everyone in every house hold seems to be involved in harvesting opium. As it turns out I had to wait for a few days to go to the lake. i Used this time  to visit these fields and watch tribal’s do what they all do at this time.

This is what I find out: Kani’ as it is called here is a very important ingredient and is deeply woven in the Mishmi culture. It’s a part of the ‘Jhum Kheti’ system (cultivation where a piece of forest is cleared in a designated area and is used for farming with rotation of crops, it does not require an irrigation system.) Every mishmi pooja needs it along with a sacrificial meat. The women do all the work with initial help from the men, and the men use up all the produce. Every produce is consumed by the locals and it does not leave the mishmi hills.

Finally after a week people got free from their hectic work and I gathered few of them to come along, we picked up ration, mainly rice and salt and left for the lake. Since we left in the afternoon we camped by the kamlang river and headed up in the morning.

The trek is a steep uphill climb begins from a broken hanging bridge across the river, then keep climbing up for about 10 to 12 kms and its quite strenuous. On the way you will come across orange plantations, loads of Bamboo of all kinds and Mithun’s . The last bit is a downhill climb for an hour before you reach the lake.

On site the lake a huge mass of water spread across 6-8kms and is surrounded by mountains from all sides, in the distance are snow clad peaks  in the scenery. Around the lake many small streams feed the lake which eventually drops into the Kamlang river to reach the Mighty Brahmaputra.

At the lake I got to pitch my tent within a camp already there of the fisher folk as in the open the cattle may create havoc.  Sofrum my local guide burnt some incense and performed a small prayer for acceptance before we enter the lake premises.

The next few days were spent by the lake chilling, taking a ride in the huge lake on a bamboo raft, going with the tribal to see if there is any animal caught in the trap, made a new bamboo raft with 7 bamboos, ate some deer meat of course loads of fish. (Smoked, boiled dried).

We waited till all our ration got over and then unwillingly headed back to Wakro with an invitation to come back during the rains as the fishes will be 3 time more that what we saw this time.

As I came down from Glow, the skies become so clear that snow peaks become very clear. Thinking that it would be a great time to head towards kibitoo, situated at the China border I headed into Anjaw district. A place less travelled and is home to 2 hot spring , Millenniums’ first Sun rise and from where our late Prime minister Mrs. Indira Gandhi got inspired to name the state as Arunachal Pradesh.

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The Eastern regions of Arunachal Pradesh.

March 1st, 2012

My Itanagar stay was pretty painful in many aspect, almost spent a week in getting the recommendations to acquire an all Arunachal permit for a longer period than 15 days which is given to tourist to visit the state. It took me almost 10 days to get the permits in my hands thanks to the working culture of the government offices. To add to it stay is quite expensive and so is food and internet.

No sooner I got my hand on my permit , I kick started and headed back straight to the eastern district of Lohit to continue from where I had left. And this time my permit is valid for one full year which also allows me to go easy and explore this culturally diverse state.

North Lakhimpur, Bogibeel, Dibrugarh, Rupai and finally Namsai gate. Checked in and life starts again.

As I was re-entering Arunachal a distant snow peak is visible, however no one know which peak is that, some say that it could be the High peak within the Namdapha park, some also suggested that it could be the snow peaks of Hawaii in the Anjaw district or even Kibithoo bordering china.

On the way there is a huge pagoda funded by the Burmese government at Tengapani  quite an impressive space with huge statues of lord Buddha right in the middle of the temple.

One of the first tribes you come across while entering Arunachal from Namsai is the tai Khampti, originally a warrior tribe who has common roots with Thailand follow Buddhism, its believed that this tribe travelled through Burma and entered India through the Vijaynagar stretch and finally settled in the Namsai  – Chokham belt of the kamlang forest reserve.

After failed attempts to put up at the IB I was invited to stay at one Mr Vijay Namchoon a relative of one friend I met in Itanagar. The house was a traditional Khampti house with spacious rooms very different from the tradition houses of other tribes. The food eaten is all home grown, from rice, to ginger to leafy vegetables to bamboo shoots etc.  Even fish is caught from the kamlang river flowing through the Khampti land.

Next morning I started my journey again starring at the distant snow peak on the way to Deban where I had to pick up some baggage I had left before I headed to Itanagar. I pitched my tent at Deban by the Noa – dihing river and ate with the locals, where I also chanced upon some wild meat. My days in Deban were spent clearing up my baggage, doing laundry, collecting firewood, assisting the locals in preparing for the Mahashivratri festival and taking a dip in the river. My nights were spent by the fire gazing alternatively between the stars and the embers and thinking nothing. Emptiness can be quite satisfying.

In this Himalayan state you don’t have to go too far to seek adventure, all you have to do is ride and you will get all the thrills the off road experience while being on the road such as crossing streams with heavy currents, riding on a one meter wide suspension bridge or even spotting some wild animals and for my luck I did spot one Clouded leopard crossing the road and I could recognize it because had already seen one in the zoo at itanagar. Too close and yet could not capture it on lens.

Now I have been moving in the mishmi territory, and the change is quite visible, people with different features, clothing and the differently designed machetes that they carry. One can see electric poles – a sign of development and better governance with school and medical units, however not sure of the inside truth.

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Picnics and mela’s

December 1st, 2011

While I was still in Miao, took part in a multi-tribal picnic where 2 tribes (The Lisu and the Chakma) came together to spend New Year by the river. They were almost 80 people of all ages, and effortlessly they were divided and given tasks to cook for all present and without much fuss the food was ready in less than 2 hrs.

I am just trying to look back at my corporate life where never had I seen such an efficient team and the way they organized themselves.

Parshuram kund Mela was around the corner and was more or less 65kms from Miao, so I packed my saddle bags on the Motorbike, put the bike on a boat and sailed to the other side of the noa-dehing river, I was entering Deban from the other side of the river which could lead me Wakro without having to get into Assam. Here I was looking for Manudan a porter from the chakma tribe who came along with us to Vijaynagar.

Chakma is a refugee tribe that came from Bangladesh during the partition of East Pakistan. They were resettled here during the Indira Gandhi’s govt rule. which earlier was a singhpo tribe territory. Predominantly a Buddist tribe who live off the land by farming and gathering grass that ends up as brooms in our homes. Lately some of them have taken up Christianity due to some missionary efforts in this region.

I stayed with the Chakma listening to tales of their migration and their effort to mix in the new land that protected them.

Later Manudan and I rode to Parshuram kund mela and this time he came along as a friend.

Once every year a congregation of hindu devotees gather here by the roaring Lohit river to offer their respect to Parshuram. Here there is a huge temple which further leads to a natural spring where the devotees take a dip. As I reached the place I began to look for a place to pitch my tent but I was advised against it. Not because it’s not permitted but because of the wind factor. So I took their advice and decided to take shelter in a building which was under construction. That night I saw another side of nature. a catapultic wind, By 6PM the wind starts to blow and it gradually keeps on increasing its pace. It sweeps everything in its way from dust, to plastic bag, to tin sheets. The wind here is estimated here to be approximately about 50 to 75km/hr, in the night these wind creates a constant roar, eerie at times and you have to get used to it to be able to catch up with any sleep. The Situation calms down only by 8 in the morning when the sun rises and warms up the air. And this is a daily affair.

Next day I found a place within a govt. office compound where the wind could be blocked. So I took my chances and pitched the tent and it worked. The next few days of the mela I spent walking around the mela clicking some baba pictures and making leads for my next stop.

In the state of Arunachal you need an inner line permit to travel and at a time you only get permit for 15 days, you can extend your stay in a district by visiting the district head quarter in that area, but one district office cannot give you permit for another district. For this you may have to go into Assam to get permit for the other districts that you want to visit. If you follow my format of the journey it is pretty painful to ride about 300 odd km up and down, which costs money and time. So I had decided to get a permit for a longer period for which I had to go to Itanagar to procure the same. Again for which I had to drive in Assam as the roads in Arunachal is not connected yet, this has help construct another dream to travelling Arunachal to without a break journey in Assam.

So I set out to the capital of the state thinking that I should at least get an extended permit of 3 months for the entire state. The closest and the fastest way was through Bogibeel a small fishermen village by the Brahmaputra where the ferry services are available to cross over into upper Assam and then a 2-3 hr ride to the Itanagar.  On reaching the Jetty I realized I had missed the last boat and this prompted me to stay over at the jetty. There were a few shops there which were shutting down and a few boats anchored by the river, while seeking a place to crash for the night I was invited to stay in a boat on the river with the boatmen. As usual I agreed.  The residents of the boat cooked their staple food with fish and shared their stories of the sailing experience. I slept on the calm waters to be woken up in the morning by fresh water dolphins splashing around. It was worth missing the last ferry.

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The Namdapha project. – A walk to the last village in eastern India.

November 18th, 2011

After the Himalayan odyssey in the north I headed to the north east and as usual there was no plan of what I was going to do there, to help with a the direction I thought of going to the eastern most part of the Arunachal Pradesh and then move west bound. Time was always with me from the start of the journey. I called up Rajiv and asked him to meet me in eastern Arunachal to attempt 157 kms on foot to reach the last village in Eastern India.

The Namdapha project:

My story of Arunachal had begun in February last year where a bunch of us (friends) had set on an epic road trip of 16000kms in 45 days across India and Bhutan. Stillwell road was a part of that trip up till the Burma border. A detour to Miao introduced us to the Namdapha wild life sanctuary. We were immediately told that we will not be able to reach the forest guest house with the cars due to landslides and hence we marched on foot towards Deban 25kms.

As we walked we encountered human traffic coming from the opposite direction with heavy loads on their backs which had utensils and handcrafted baskets. Curiosity lead us to find out that they have been walking for 4 days and are heading to Miao to purchase Salt and sugar. This was intriguing in itself given the landscape we were witnessing. The only means of transportation to where they come from was a weekly Pawan hans helicopter services with only 17 seats to be taken however, most of them people preferred to walk through one of the most treacherous terrains in eastern India. Hence it was decided that we need to experience the remoteness of their lives.

Six months later …..

Bridges are know as Dolongs in this part of the country

While I was riding from Himachal to Arunachal, few of my friends were heading to Kaziranga which was our meeting point. After a quick jeep safari in the rhino land we rushed to get the Inner line permit at Mohanbari……  The idea was to take the 20 min helicopter service to Vijaynagar and walk back 6 days to Miao which is about 157km through the Namdapha wild life sanctuary. But the tables turned when we learnt that the helicopter service was cancelled for maintenance for that entire month although the booking for the flight was done well ahead.

After a quick huddle Rajiv, Alpheus and I decided to take on the massive expedition which now had become tentatively a 300km trek. This also meant that we had to buy and carry more ration and more men to share the load. We reached Miao late that night and put up at the IB, next morning we shopped for ration, sought our forest permission to trek through the Namdapha sanctuary, spoke to ADC for our provisional permits to extend out stay in case we get stuck and porters to help us with the extra weight. Though we have trekked and camped in the jungle earlier, none of us had embarked on such a long distance on foot in an unknown territory.

The first day itself the terrain put us to test, as we were entering the trail the rains welcomed us to the jungle, every step from here onwards had to be a certain step and along with that you had to save yourself from the thorny shrubs, at times the only way to move forward was to get down on your four’s. Within the first 2 hours of the journey It had become clear that we would not be able to make it in 6 days which we had estimated earlier, Namdapha had taken us by surprise and we were already thinking if we would be able to complete the trek. At a point it got so strenuous that we stopped thinking and just kep moving like a zombie with backpacks. Up down up down up down was the order of the day. That night all of us ate and slept without uttering a word.

The next 6 days we woke up, packed our tents, cooked food, ate and started walking, we tuned ourselves to keep walking even if it rains and to pitch the tents by 2.30 in the noon. The format was to eat, walk, eat and sleep. Every stretch was a test of endurance, from the ups and downs of the mountain range to longs walks on slippery boulders by the river, from crossing single bamboo bridges to pushing yourself ahead through knee deep thick slush for miles together. There was a time we were walking thru elephant grass twice our size for more than 2 hours. The whole journey It was like an obstacle course and the moment you thought you mastered to walk on slippery stones, the jungle presented you with a higher difficulty level and this time a cliff with a drop in the high current river and the only support you have are the roots of the trees that come out of the soil. Once you have crossed that huddle you will find yourself walking on a fallen tree used as a bridge.

The Nights in the forest has been particularly beautiful with the milky way above and the fire below.

As you realize how small a creature you are in this gigantic forest it began to treat us with goodies, we met a few people from the local tribe who were building bamboo and cane bridges for commute they also provided us with fresh cat fish caught from the dehing river, we also got to taste a particular insect collected from under the stones by the river for a tribal Chutney’. There are a couple of villages on the way within the namdapha boundary which act as a resting place for the local tribes while they are commuting to and fro, while we were in these villages we stayed with the tribal elders who are very hospitable, one can also buy fruits and vegetables grown by these tribes for you journey ahead.

The seventh day we reached Gandhigram, the second last village in eastern Arunachal, This is primarily home of the Lisu tribe with about 400 household, Here there is only one phone booth which is connected over satellite. The market is primarily a display of farm produces from individual houses, one can by vegetables, meat, eggs, fruits etc. Salt is priced at 100/- sugar and oil at 200/-. There is no visible help from the government, no medical facilities, no proper schools and no financial aid from the govt. Though they are citizens of India they are still fighting for their rights and ST status. Hardworking, skillful earn some money with their cane baskets and farm excesses. The only outsiders the tribes have seen are the soldiers from the Assam rifle regiment and a few members from the wild life fraternity.

The last bit of the journey was four hour trek to Vijanagar the last point in eastern India, there is an air strip to transport military goods and civilians (if the pawan hans service is active). Beyond this point surrounded by 3 sides is Burma and it still takes about 4 days to reach beyond the borders. We stayed in Vijaynager for 2 days and visited few families and a local musician who played us a tribal tune from a locally made flute called ‘Juley’. The night temperature in vijaynager went to 2 degrees; one could see a thin white layer of frost on the ground in the morning just before the sun rise.

This was it. The task was completed; we had walked to the remotest village in eastern India, experienced their route, lived in the jungle and understood why they do what they do. And in the end one word could sum it up “Respect’. During the return journey we tried to match the pace with the Tribe and made it back to the forest guest house in Deban in 5 days.

Though distant from modern amenities, these tribes are very proficient in their use of bamboo and wood. From bridges, to homes, rice pounding machines, to water run rice mills. In Awe of the people and the culture here Rajiv and I have planned another visit during the end of the year, this time we would spend about 3 months in the jungle with these tribes and document their local engineering.

In the end we covered a distance of about 240kms in 15 days.

Back in civilization my friends headed back to Bangalore and I stayed on with the Lisu tribe in Miao to understand more about their culture making new friends and understanding the socio-culture aspects of the tribes in eastern Arunachal.

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Moonlit mountains to the dawn-lit mountains

December 1st, 2010

Malana seated on a remote plateau is a picturesque view from the opposite mountain Nerang. Krishna and I rode from Bhuntar to Jari where I off loaded some luggage in a guest house before the steep ride to Malana. We’d hardly begun our journey when the bike’s pump shaft broke, an impact due to the previous mishaps and since it was an internal damage, it went unnoticed until now. The only mechanic around was in Kasol. We transported the bike to Kasol in a pick-up vehicle, dropped the bike for repairs and left for Nerang in a shared cab, (from where we’d trek up to Malana).

The dense green valleys makes the drive to Nerang one of the most splendid experiences of this Himachal journey. On reaching Nerang we sent our remaining bags via the trolley service between the two mountains. In just 3 minutes the bags reach Malana while it takes around 45 minutes to trek to the village. While people can use the service, according to Krishna its scary and so people opt to walk. As we trekked up the sun had set and the moon was shinning bright on the snow capped mountains, and its reflection fell on the pathway, lighting the path during dusk. It was breathtaking.

As we walked the bylanes of Malana, Krishna started pointing out to stones (not marked or erected, just random stones on the way) asking me not to step foot on it as it belongs to a Devta and any visitor or a Malanis who stepped on that part of the land is fined with a thousand grand. I was trying hard to keep pace while making mental notes of his directions.

Malana is the only village in Himachal that has held on to the age old caste system. Visitors like me can only stay at guest houses, and that too are managed by either Nepali or neighbouring villagers. So much so that Krishna could not eat a meal or even drink water with me while in Malana. However, he did share a meal in Bhuntar. Apparently, outside of Malana the locals can take liberty from this norm. I remember Krishna washing his hands and face after meeting me at the guest house in Malana, before he went home. Among the 300 families that reside here, the young have no choice but to marry among the villagers. Consequently, courtships and weddings at the age of 10 and 12 are simply normal.

While Malana is world famous for its special breed of hashish, what truly stands out is the Malanis socio-cultural manner. Even their dialect known as Raksh (according to local claims the language is believed to be of the devils that resided long time ago) is incomprehensible by even villagers from neighbouring settlements.

The village fascinated me for its ways of life even in this day and age, unaffected by its changing neighbourhood.

Th trek down was more tedious than the trek up. My feet were killing me. In the days that followed I exited Himachal feeling a little sad but with the certainty of returning to complete the rest of the state. From Jari, I rode towards Chandigarh, Delhi and now in UP, in a bid to reach the land of the rising sun – Arunachal Pradesh.

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Visions of the deep forest

November 30th, 2010

My bike is back on the road after getting a new head!!! The bullet has another stint with road-life – replaced front shock absorbers, T-fork, welded carrier, brake drums, brake lights, indicators. Its rejuvenated by new cables and electric wiring,giving it a new burst of energy.

While my road companion was getting a new life in Vashisht, I caught up on some rest in Manali enjoying the snowfall. Meanwhile Rajiv returned home.

Rain followed snowfall and I felt stuck in Manali. But my heart was travelling through the deep forests of Arunachal Pradesh. And so, my mind started working towards the vision. Early this year during our previous trip to Arunachal we were overwhelmed by Namdapha national park and had promised ourselves to go back. Winters is said to be the best time to visit this region and thus began the next adventure plan. Back in Bangalore Rajiv started work on the trip, to the land of the rising sun.

And so, one fine morning as it rained I waited patiently to get on the wheels and head towards Arunachal. After riding for around 53 kms the weather got to me I was soaking wet from riding in the rain and I could feel my bones shiver. That night I stayed at Bhuntar where I met Krishna, a young lad from Malana. He spoke with so much pride of his village and its orthodox customs that I was intrigued to visit the village.

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Barfili hawa!!!

November 24th, 2010

The ride on the plateaus of Tabo and Kaza took us to the beautiful village Kibber, which claims to be the highest motorable village in the world at 14,200 feet.

Kibber also houses the Ki Gompa, a Buddhist monastery where we were welcomed with a cup of delicious lime and honey chai.

We stayed the night at Kaza and the next morning sent some of our luggage to Manali by bus, to have a smooth ride up to Kunzum pass. And thus began our longest ride!

People had forewarned us of the weather. “If anything goes wrong between Kunzum pass and Gramphu, only fate can save you’ll,” they said.

Rightly so with temporary settlements far apart from each other and rock-laden roads, the ride was nerve-racking. But all fears vanished when met two cyclist from Gurgaon at Kunzum pass. It was freezing cold…almost bone chilling, there were times when I’d stop the bike just to feel my fingers. Rajiv describes it best – I now know what people mean when they say ‘Barfili hawa’!!!

Batal, a place studded with snow peaks, gilded by turquoise blue river, necklaced by glaciers was the most stunning lunch halt. Apparently Batal and Chatru which are 25 kms apart are the only two places where food is available for travellers.

After the heavy lunch, the bike gave way. Simply put – brake broke and fork cracked. And we had 100 kms to get to Manali.

We rode on being as caution as possible, looking out for camp sites, villages, calculating a trek to the nearest village in case of a worst case scenario. We anticipated the bike to split into two as the handle was vigorously shaking, and was pulling us towards one side. Rough roads further made things worse. There wasn’t a sole traceable on that patch of road and so we were forced to ride on. We managed to ride till Gramphu, a common point that leads towards Leh, Ladhak, Spiti valley on one side and the other towards Rotang, Manali.

At Gramphu, Rajiv hitched a drive in an Alto and took the remaining baggage. The car was following the bike and managed to cross Rotang pass. Manali was the only place where the bike could be repaired and therefore we tried to cover as much distance during daylight.

Finally, the bike and I ‘safely crash landed’ while seated on the bullet, at Gulaba, around 20 kms from Manali. While there was no injury, on a serious note I was aware of the danger involved, had I not had the presence of mind to direct the handle towards my right, I would be down the valley on my left.

We called a friend in Manali, Karma who suggested we leave the bike on the side of the road and get to Manali. It was around 7:00 pm by the time we got there but the day wasn’t over yet for us. We took a bus ride to Kullu to pick up our luggage which we’d packed off from Kaza.

That night we slept like logs. The next morning we drove in a pick-up to fetch the bike and get the bullet’s wheels rolling again.

Our skin had become numb to fear. The weather made us cold and rugged. We were frozen by the joy of the mountains.

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Oasis in the mountain!

October 30th, 2010

A major 4-hour road block delayed our ride to Spiti and by the time we reached Puh (Kinnaur district) the sun was to set. We stayed the night at Puh.

The following morning as we rode up to the trance Himalayan range, the terrain got more arid and barren. Out of nowhere Nako lake situated at 12,014 feet, appears like an oasis in the dessert.

Nako is like a nest in between the peaks with willow and poplar trees. The Nako lake has such a soothing effect that it’s an ideal place for thoughts that mentally embrace you. Stones surrounding the lake have Buddhist inscription which reflect the influence of Buddhism in this part of Himachal.

The ride after Nako towards Kaza is a 10 kms climb and then a zig-zag descend into the Spiti valley, from there on the road evens out with mountains on either side. On the way to Tabo, the scenic beauty of Lari, a settlement of just 100 odd people, was inviting. Since Lari was just 6 kms before Tabo, we decided to ride to Tabo after dumping our bags at the Lari rest house.

Tabo a small town took us (Rajiv and me) back in time, to the ancient Buddhist ways of living. The Buddhist monastery is said to be thousand years old.

After a quick visit to the monastery we rode back to Lari. That night after ages we saw a documentary – Story of India.

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Mysteries of the mountain

October 22nd, 2010

As the sun went down in the valley surrounding Hatu Peak, Rajiv Rathod (my friend who would now ride along with me) and I started reviewing our luggage as the bike would now have to carry us and a few more extra kilos. And the terrain wasn’t getting earlier. The ride in the rugged was to begin…

We headed towards Rampur, 66 kms from Narkanda (the base of Hatu peak also know as Heaven’s base camp as it’s a skiing destination). The road leading to Rampur is a beautiful down- hill with the river Sutlej accompanying you all the way into the heart of Spiti valley.

That night we walked the by-lanes of the small town through hutments and markets, all leading to the river Sutlej. The next day: forty five minutes into the ride we took a break to admire and soak in the beauty of the fall water on the way to Sangla. That’s when we found a crack in the rear tyre.

Jeori was the nearest village where we hoped to replace the tyre, but on reaching Jeori we were told that Rampur was the only place where we could buy a new tyre.

We set the wheels back on the road after replacing the tyre and just after 10 kms we were face-to-face with a truck!

At one of the bends the traffic increased and since the road was narrow I moved aside and continued riding slowly, giving way to three trucks. The driver of the fourth truck suddenly took a huge turn and didn’t see us as he was chitchatting. The bike speed was anyways slow for me to react, I kept honking but the driver failed to notice. The truck first hit my shoulder and then…hit the side stands…bringing us down.

Damage done: One broken headlamp, clutch lever cut, and the side stand bent…and ofcourse my shoulder was bruised but the jacket I was wearing helped. Rajiv was lucky to have had no injuries. We offloaded the luggage at a nearby shop while I headed back to Rampur to fix the bike and Rajiv scouted for a place to stay. It was almost 4:00 pm by the time I got back to Jhakri so we decided against riding further.

On the road to Sangla, visions of the opposite mountain were mesmerising. Coincidentally the garage we stopped for welding at Babanagar lead us to Badakambha village, on the opposite side of the mountain. Arvind Kumar, a guy we met at the garage was from Badakambha and he offered to drive us there. All excited Rajiv and I hopped into his Bolero camper with other locals. Locals, we were told, take less than an hour to come down the hill and almost 3 hours to trek up to Badakambha.

The 25 kms drive is bumpy and can get scary at times. But the scenery is exotic. The landscape is so breathtaking that it eliminates the fear of what lies ahead.

Ustaad aka Arvind hosted us at his home that night and the next morning he gave us a guided tour of his village and garden blooming with pears and apples.

We went back to Babanagar to fetch the bike and continue our ride into the mountains. Chitkul was the place we intended to go, for which we had to pass through Sangla. By the time we reached Sangla the fuel tank was almost running dry with just 2 litres and Chitkul was about 24 kms away.While the fuel was sufficient to reach Chitkul, coming back and then heading to Pawari,30 kms from Sangla (from Pawari we were to ride towards Puh) would be an issue. The only next petrol pump was at Pawari. So, we decided to stay the night at Sangla after scouting for loose fuel which no luck.

The breathtaking view of Kinner Kailash from Sangla valley made up for the disappointment of not being able to ride to Chitkul.

In the days that followed we rode to Pawari and then further to Puh.

What keeps us going in these terrains is what family and friends have been asking us after they heard of our accident? Well, what can we say when we’ve learnt from the pahadis, “Agar in pahado may marna likha hai to aap itdar marogay, agar ghar may marna lekha hai tu ghar pe.”

How can I describe my feelings in words for what I felt when I almost escaped a mishap, how do I describe how humbling an experience it is when you are welcomed by complete strangers into their homes to stay the night, share a meal and walk their lanes. Their gestures are so overwhelming, maybe thats why their call this place Devbhoomi!

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Yahan pe shanti hai aur shehar may kranti hai

October 16th, 2010

The back beating began on the way to Narkanda. Passing through Kufri and Theog, the road condition is no rider’s delight. Over 30 kms of the stretch, till Matiana, is battered due to the heavy rainfall.

The view of the long range of mountain ridges and the valley below, griffin vultures flying low to feast on a road kill and the thrill of riding into the greater Himalayas makes up for the bad roads.

On reaching Narkanda I was scouting for a place to camp and the locals suggested I ride to Hatu peak, 7 kms from Narkanda. So I decided to ride further up to the peak situated at 11,152 feet. The last 2 kms of the ride on my bullet was quite an uphill climb but in the end it was worth every bit as Hatu peak gives you a preview of the snow peaked mountains of Shrikhand Mahadev, Kinner Kailash, among others.

A temple and a locked cottage is all that is mounted up on the peak. I was thrilled to have found a good place to pitch my tent for a few days and so decided to enquire once with the temple Pandit. Lalit Sharma, the 24-year old Pandit replied saying I was free to pitch a tent anywhere I wished. He was quick to add, “Par aap akele hain tu aap hamare saath rahe.” (But you are alone so stay with us). The next three days I spend with Pandit, an old watchman Tarachand and Tarachand’s two dogs – Jimmy and Tommy, and his monkey Gopi.

During my stay I realised how the mountain people, or I guess just this bunch just had two meals a day of rice, dal/rajma– breakfast around 11 O’clock (almost brunch) and dinner at 7 O’clock. Chit chatting sessions with Pandit and Tarachand added to the excitement of being at Hatu peak. During one such session where we were sharing our stories of the places we’ve lived in, Pandit expressed his desire to visit Mumbai. “Sirf ek do hafte ke liye jana hai. Kya 30,000 kafi hoga? Humein hawaijahaj may Mumbai jana hai. Bas itni khwaish hai (Just want to visit Mumbai for a week or two. Will 30,000 rupees be sufficient. I want to travel by an aircraft to Mumbai. This is one desire),” said Pandit in a hopeful tone. The only cities he has visited are Delhi and Chandigarh and that too to sell apples.

Pandit rode with me to his village Pujali, 35 kms from Hatu peak. The ride to this settlement is steep with dusty and narrow roads. It took us 2 hours with two traffic jams to reach Pujali. Pandit’s house is at a hill top and the bike had to be parked elsewhere. It was late evening by the time we trekked 3 kms to his home. Though I’ve done treks before, this was the only time during a trek that I feared the unknown, simply because I couldn’t see the path and at times during the trek I had to use my four limbs to climb up.

After staying the night at Pujali with Pandit and his family – brother, mother and grandmother, we left the next morning back to Hatu peak.

As I awaited for my friend Rajiv Rathod who was to ride with me further into Himachal, Tarachand kept me entertained with his wise insights.

Tarachand a talkative man full of mountain tales can name all the peaks one can spot from Hatu peak. He starts his day at 4:30 am with a morning walk with Jimmy, Tommy and Gopi. He then hops across mountains to collect firewood and returns by 10:00 am.

During the night when we’d sit in the open with no power supply, he’d point to the stars, planets and even the galaxies. Life in the mountains as described in Tarachand’s words… “Yahan pe shanti hai aur shehar may kranti hai.”

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