Spiti
Self discovery in an undiscovered land
Yakin nahi ho raha ki main pahuch gaya
I still can’t believe I’m here
I said sipping on hot, watery Maggi. Negi, a monk in his late twenties with a funky beard, looked at me:
Himmat karo to sab ho jata hain. Thodi der lag sakti hain par ho jata hain.
If one has the courage to try, no dream is too distant. It may take a while but eventually you reach there.
I felt all my mental blocks dissolving away. Everything that was holding me back was gone! How simpler could it be? All you had to do is try. Like all great truths of life this was so simple to fathom and yet so difficult to realise.
I had arrived late into the evening, well past dinner which takes place at 6PM. Initially I was denied a bed and asked to spend the night at an adjacent hotel. But I hadn’t travelled 700Km to stay in a hotel and I made that very clear to them. “I’ll sleep on the floor but I’ll only stay here” I told them trying to be both respectful and adamant. They smiled and went up to check. “We’re sorry but there has been some confusion. There is indeed a vacant bed for you to occupy” they said smiling. And thus I got shelter at the Key Monastery — the most spectacular one I’ve ever seen with my own eyes or otherwise. A random photograph of it had drawn me to the place around two or three years back. Since then I’d mostly forgotten about it, neither remembering the location nor the name but only a mesmerising picture and a dream to visit someday — until I saw it again.
Getting there — the journey so far
Hill Hacks
How I actually ended up at that dreamy monastery is a story in itself. I had arrived at Rakkar village near Dharamsala for a 5 day unconference called Hill Hacks. I won’t spend a lot of time telling you about my Hill Hacks experience this time. It was slightly disappointing barring a few odd talks like How to be a monkey and others like the one on Kangra wildlife by an impeccable wildlife officer D.S. Dhadwal. Most people there had come in groups and chose to remain so. Maybe it wasn’t that bad afterall. I got to see 2 really great movies — Citizenfour and Waking Life, especially Waking Life. Each dialogue is a piece of art and stands on it’s own. The food was delicious and the music enchanting with Shiv Kailasho ke wasi refusing to desert my mind.
The final evening was gala night and a bunch of us put up an impromptu play with me enacting Sachin Tendulkar on a flight full of weird, funny characters. I must say I nailed it ;)
I’ll just end it by sharing tons of beautiful pics of Ghoomakad — the hackerspace where we were putting up.
Norbulingka Institute
I’d heard a lot about the Norbulingka institute from everyone. It’s a Tibetan art centre for preserving the Tibetan culture in wake of the Chinese invasion. I decided to walk down the road and pay a visit. Most days at Hill Hacks were quite boring.
Most days were uncharacteristically hot with temperatures reaching up to 30ºC. The place was not equipped with many fans and the walls were thick to fight the cold winter. That played on us badly here. Guys when Dharamshala is too hot, you know climate change is a real thing.
Christian, a guy from Michigan had spent the last couple of months learning Indian classical music and his pronunciation was impeccable. Have a look.
Abhinav plants the seed
On the 3rd night I got a message from Abhinav:
Sure. It doesn’t sound that crazy at all. I could easily extend my stay for a day or two and chill a bit, I thought. What I had in my mind was more of McLeod Ganj or maybe Triund and a couple of nice wood burnt pizzas. Abhinav instead suggested a bit of detour — Kinnaur valley. So I fired up my laptop for a quick search and was instantly hooked to it’s beauty. I remembered Kalpa from a Google Ad during elections. Suddenly from somewhere I stumbled upon Spiti valley and then I saw that image again and a bulb went off. Suddenly we were headed to Spiti.
So I quickly started researching about how to reach Gompa and stumbled upon a couple of travel blogs. A particular one that caught my eye was from a Mumbai chick Nidhi Thakur. So I shot an email to her and received a reply the very next day. Guess what? She was living in the same village — Rakkar. While we didn’t meet, it was a weird coincidence that I feel like sharing with you.
So you see. My plan for Spiti was on — a spontaneous one but I had lovely company.
I had also emailed dad about my sudden plan. His response was heart warming.
Spiti
The Bus to Shimla
I decided to cancel my ticket to Delhi and leave a night early for Shimla. There was too much confusion regarding the roads being open on the Manali route. The Manali ISBT surprisingly had no clue (really?) and the Keylong bus stop categorically told me the road was closed. Both were lying! So we decided not to take a chance and meet at Shimla and then head over to Reckong Peo from where we would hitch hike our way to the monastery, halting at various places along the way. The 2 day extension had long been forgotten and I had prepared myself for being on the road up to a week.
I took a taxi for the lack of late night reliable transportation to Dharamsala ISBT and boarded my bus at 9:30PM. It had been only 10 minutes when I received a message from Abhinav.
Disgusting Shimla
Maybe I shouldn’t say that based on my two hour stay at a place — but I will. Shimla was disgusting. There was sludge all around and the congestion was suffocating. I had spent the last night thinking about whether I should just head back to Delhi like I was supposed to or actually head to Peo. I had never really made unplanned trips — forget making one on my own. I have to admit I was nervous about going to an unknown land with absolutely zero planning. But I had been too excited and worked up about seeing the monastery to give up now and so I decided to proceed.
After misinformation from the bus stop officials and running around Shimla, I finally landed at the ISBT and took a private bus for Peo in the morning. The bus was cramped, the roads terrible and the journey boring but I made it to Peo in 12 hours. Largely I was tense about where I will be spending the night.
Peo
As soon as I touched the Kinnaur valley, rains welcomed us and I knew we were headed to a different kind of India. The beauty on the way is spellbinding especially when you are about to touch Peo and see snow clad mountains.
At Peo the bus conductor probably having anticipated my uneasiness throughout the trip asked me if I needed a room and pointed to a hotel right next to the bus stop. I just needed to spend the night and got a dingy room. I’m sure I overpaid but I was too tired to negotiate. Just before we parted, the conductor told me to ask the hotel staff to get me a ticket to Tabo in the morning. I didn’t pay much heed to that. The officials at the bus stop had asked me to come at 6 in the morning and I expected to get a ticket easily. So I changed, showered and headed for dinner as I’d not eaten for close to 36 hours now.
The Bus to Kaza
Every morning at 7 from Reckong Peo leaves a bus to Kaza — the most major town of Spiti. What I did not know is that passengers from Shimla that left the last evening get priority for tickets. I had arrived a night before on a private bus and to my absolute horror I did not get one. I was not prepared to stand for 12 hours in a congested bus on what I had heard was one of the worst and most dangerous roads in the world. The bus was jam packed with passengers from two buses from Shimla as well as the locals who just had to reach their destinations. During my struggles at the ticket counter I was joined by two equally disappointed young men. So we quickly got down to business wondering what we were going to do. What we definitely could not do was spend another night at Peo. Ankush was quick to point out that he had a local friend and might be able to arrange a taxi but it would be expensive, costing each of us up to fifteen hundred each. FIFTEEN HUNDRED! Very reluctantly I agreed but I had no other option. I am so glad I did that. We stopped everywhere we wanted to and it was way more comfortable. More importantly the co-passengers turned out to be really nice people. Neither had I chosen them nor had they chosen me but it worked out better than I could ever hope for. This was an important life lesson for me.
Mann ka ho to accha, na ho to aur bhi accha
If what you desire turns out to be true — great! If it doesn’t then even better
But this wasn’t the first time that I had felt so on this trip but we’ll come back to that later. Before we proceed, here is a beautiful snow clad mountain right behind the Peo bus stand.
Spillo and the way to Spiti
As we left Peo, we encountered the forces of nature and a sneak peek into the road ahead. There was this crazy corner where only one vehicle could pass at a time and absolutely no way to know if someone was coming towards you. To add to that these hill drivers drive fast somehow not caring about the consequences. I realised this was just normal for them. That’s how driving and travelling had been for them all their life. Most of them had never really left the valley. Death was always a couple of meters to your left or right.
Our first halt was at Spillo where we had huge ass aloo parathas with a brick of butter for just ₹25. Before you realise it you’ve moved out of the lush green Kinnaur valley into the brinks of Spiti. That’s when you realise what a cold dessert really is. It’s barren as anything with not a pinch of grass anywhere and just solid rocks and stones everywhere. Your lips dry up even though there’s the Sutlej river constantly flowing by your side. It makes you wonder how people even conceived of settling here a millennia back and actually survived!
Particularly amusing is the fact that as you get closer to Spiti, the road starts vanishing and you get to see boards saying you’re travelling on the world’s most treacherous road.
There’s a lot of drilling work that you see going along the road. This is an attempt to broaden the road. They are drilling hard mountains formed over a period of millions of years and the side effects are everywhere to be seen. Not only have the landslides increased drastically as our mountains get hollow, there’s also a lot of dust floating around for you to happily choke with. The gravel makes it’s way into the river. All along the way I was wishing they just stop so that it doesn’t get easier for people to come here. I’m afraid Spiti will be the new McLeod for people from Delhi and chandigarh to flock to on weekends. I had already spotted a couple of SUVs from Gurgaon. Bad signs I tell you.
Nako Lake
The driver suggested that we halt for lunch at Nako and have a look at the beautiful Nako lake. As you approach Nako, you see the Khab sangam of two mighty rivers that split the valley — Sutlej and Spiti. It is spectacular to say the least. The entry point is beautiful with huge mountains on both sides, a deep horizon ahead of you and gushing water bending the road to your left by sheer force as the cold desert of Spiti lies across the nearby bridge. You can also glimpse huge mountains clad in visible pure white snow like Reo Purgil.
Nako is as close to the Chinese border as you can get in terms of civilisation — a mere 10Km. civilisation does not have a lake. More like civilisation lake for my Hyderabadi friends. Nako has a small pond that has somehow been woven into the myth of a beautiful grand lake that brings in tourists to an otherwise quiet little village. Nice trick. But let’s not waste too much time on these silly little details. The pictures in Spiti make every halt and stop memorable and therefore I’ll just leave you with spell binding scenery since my dismal skill at writing will never do justice to this land.
After a brief lunch at Nako (which was surprisingly commercial in it’s approach) comprising of some delicious momos and Pepsi, we headed out on our journey. What we also spotted was the last army camp and the Chinese border. Across the camp everything was China. The driver was also quick to point out that only fairly recently they had intruded before leaving peacefully. The Chinese (and I hope the Indians too) keep testing the enemy’s limit.
Tabo
Our next destination was Tabo — a millennium old village famous for having the world’s second oldest monastery and hundreds of years old caves that were used by monks for meditation. The beautiful art work still survives on the walls of these caves which has given Tabo the title of “Ajanta of the Himalayas”. Tabo had been on my list of places to stay at. In fact I had planned to spend a night at the monastery. I knew that won’t be possible because of the Taxi unless I get down but that was too much uncertainty for the day. The plan of hitchhiking had gone out of the window with Abhinav’s sudden exit and I had also realised along the way that had we hitch hiked, this would have extended to 2 or 3 week trip just in Spiti. The roads are mostly deserted with occasional vehicles speeding by. They are mostly taxis and usually refuse to board because they have been hired by a Dilliwala who refuses to let anyone on for a free ride. I also knew that it would be impossible to visit the caves. I would certainly not be able to meditate in them. Some other time I said to myself.
Tabo is literally situated in the middle of high, plain mountains which surround you from all the sides. It’s like being in a giant stadium. The terrain is raw — absolutely barren but with a tree sprouting up here and there and the juxtaposition is one that you only get to see in beautifully shot Bollywood songs.
We reached the old monastery — the original one. They have created a new monastery to host guests and for routine purposes. It’s amazing that a structure established in 996A.D. still stands here — in the middle of nowhere, in the harshest and remotest of areas. What stories does it hold? Few men would really knows I guess.
We went inside to find centuries old wall paintings and idols still preserved. It’s arcane. The area is dimly lit with lamps and the fragrance of a thousand year old history fills the room with uneasiness.
The weather at Tabo was gloomy. Rains started pouring down just as we were heading towards a small cafe for a quick chai. The weather had got very cold and we had started to realise what we were up for. All those woollen clothes and the leather jacket I had brought along for Dharamshala and which had turned out to be useless because the temperature had constantly been 30ºC+ suddenly found full usage and I thanked my stars. We quickly stepped into the chai shop and got down to conversing about Vipassana as I shared my limited experience on Buddhism and it’s philosophy.
After spending about an hour I said adieu to Tabo, promising to visit back one day to meditate and star gaze.
Towards Kaza
Now the only place left to visit was Kaza and we had to make it there in time. Given the weather, we were a little skeptical if we would make it before nightfall. Driving on those roads during daytime was risky enough to us common citizens. Driving in the dark was a clear no-no even for our experienced native driver. But the landscape only keeps getting better as you head upwards. And so did the weather. Honestly the weather in this region changes faster than you can say “weather”. As we drove through those barren, empty roads we kept encountering dark, gloomy and rainy mountains as well as bright, sun laden valleys.
The road here is terrible, especially because it kept raining. Greenery was back again although in little patches but that’s how Spiti is — an amalgam, a masterpiece in blue, green and brown.
We were forced to halt for close to fifteen minutes near the river bed thanks to ongoing drilling. This is a common feature around here — since the traffic is so sparse, the drilling crew goes on with their work — only stopping when enough traffic has accumulated for them to step aside. Looking at the bright sunshine and the quick progress we had made since Tabo, we weren’t afraid anymore.
As the labour stepped aside we headed to Kaza. The terrain kept changing. At one moment we would glimpse bright sunny green mountains and the very next there would be clouds and glimpses of snowy peaks playing hide and seek with us as we zig zagged past them.
The Spot
I can’t really pinpoint the location as our networks were already gone and GPS wasn’t that reliable either but we came across a spot that blew everyone away. Almost in a single voice we commanded the driver to stop the vehicle and got outside. The wind is blowing really hard and the cold numbing. The dryness and dust was on our lips to taste and small tornadoes swept past us in haste. This is when I knew that this land was truly special and what a great decision I had made by not only taking this trip but also hiring the taxi. The bus would have never stopped here for anyone.
The land was barren — very rocky with stones and gravel everyone. One has to be very careful with their grip and I highly, highly recommend sports/trekking shoes. I unfortunately was wearing shoes with no grip at all and that turned out to be a major pain throughout. Don’t make that mistake. Right across you could see a huge flatland spread across kilometres and home to constant dust storms. Right across that plane in the middle of nowhere one could spot heavily snow clad mountains looking down upon us. The sky up was one giant bluish grey ocean with clouds breezing across, exposing the sun from moment to moment.
We’re already 9 hours into the journey and I still haven’t introduced my wonderful co-passengers. So let me do that quickly. The two boys I met at the Peo bus stand were Ankush and Prateek. Ankush was a Himachali from Shimla on a road trip with his college mate Ravi. They were extremely easy going and nice people with no major plan except to chill. Ravi is a soft spoken Punjabi who currently is working at PNB near Amritsar. Prateek on the other hand belongs to Jamshedpur and had just finished his internship at Google in Gurgaon and headed to Spiti with his girlfriend Aarzoo who is from Rewari and had joined him from Ahmedabad. Both had met as probation officers of SBI in Gujarat and that’s where Aarzoo still continues while Prateek decided to got for an MBA. The Gujarat connection really helped as we found a common connect and quickly discovered common topics and also a mutual friend. These were really fun people to talk to. All of us developed a really nice bond. Seldom do you find a group of such nice, simple and honest people to travel along with and that too strangers by chance. The decision of hopping along with them had worked out quite well after all.
Mann ka ho to accha, na ho to aur bhi accha
Kaza
Alas we had arrived in Kaza. Everyone by then knew that I had to go 10 Km further to Key. Thanks to our frequent stoppages, I had missed the only bus that leaves for Key at 5PM but that was expected. Kaza on the other hand had been everything I had heard of. A busy, congested town in the middle of nowhere — hustling and bustling with tourists and traders. It was peak tourist season and the first thing we spotted upon entering the town was a Zostel — a popular tourist hostel. That was completely unexpected and all of us thought that if these guys had reached here then it was only a matter of time before enterprising Punjabis and the rest of India would follow. You can find everything here from internet cafes to splendid cookies, cakes and whatnot.
We headed to the hotel booked by Prateek and Aarzoo and upon getting down started to discuss what I was going to do further and what all of our subsequent plans were. All this while I had been trying to butter the driver into dropping me off all the way to the monastery. But taxi fares in these areas are ridiculous. Kaza to Key is 500 bucks. They cite the wear and tear that these vehicles bear as the primary reason but as I learnt later that with proper maintenance these guys run their SUVs for years even decades. Anyway to cut the story short he agreed to take me to Key for an additional 200 bucks which I reluctantly gave him. Unfortunately not everyone in the valley is untouched by tourism and we kept coming across people who wanted to take advantage of our money. But it’s nothing compared to what you face at other tourist spots and in any case they never try to deceive you. These are as good hosts as you’ll find anywhere in the world — people who would genuinely go out of their way to help you if you need it. The others decided to spend the night in Kaza and go visiting around with the same driver the very next day. They planned to come down to the monastery sometime during the day and I assured them I was going nowhere as my sole purpose of the trip was to spend time at the monastery. That would turn out to be a lie in the future but more on that later.
Suddenly the dream was nearing. I was actually going to that very monastery I’d only seen on the internet a few years back. All that had stopped me all these years was actually taking the journey.
He quickly started driving as it was getting dark fast and he had to return back. Ankush and Ravi decided to join me for kicks. And then we spotted it.
As we drove up, I felt an adrenaline rush. It was dreamy and very emotional. All the toil, hard work, nervousness and gut wrenching journey of the past 48 hours has cumulated into this. I had overcome the worst of weather, terrain and my fears to finally make it here — at 4200m of altitude.
They dropped me off at the entrance from where I had to walk up to the monastery doors. That’s one hell of an uphill walk and at 4200m your lungs truly scream out begging you to give up.
But alas I had reached and the dream had come true.
The Naked Milky Way
Besides meditating, pondering over life and staring at mountains for hours, what I was really looking forward to was having a glimpse at the Milky Way. I had heard the sky is as clear as it gets unless you had rainy clouds flying by. This place had never met pollution and barely knew what street lights mean. Tonight was going to be special.
I had stumbled upon a couple of people upon entering who went on to become friends and we still keep in touch. Let me introduce them.
After settling down in my room and catching my breath, I finally ventured out. I looked up and there it was — a clear beautiful sky. I’d never seen a clearer sky — never seen so many stars! As I kept staring at the sky I had a great conversation late into the night with Vibhooti and Prateek. Prateek was a little busy snapping 300+ pics of the Milky Way as it slid past us. Now it’s of course not as clearly visible as it appears in photographs (they call it overexposure) but you can still make out that it’s not a cloud as you had mistaken initially. Besides the galaxy we also spotted Mars, Jupiter and Saturn. I took the snaps from Prateek and made it into a 20 second film with copyright infringement of some Hans Zimmer music. Here it is:
It was worth it — all of that 48 hours of journey on the world’s most treacherous road. Milky Way on the top, snow clad mountains in the middle and the serene Spiti river down — it’s indescribable. Please don’t go there ever (and make it a touristy place like McLeod Ganj).
Prateek was carrying a BSNL sim he had managed from Shimla and I borrowed his phone to call up home. I spoke to dad about how beautiful this place actually was and told him that although my network was gone I’d still call them up once everyday from an STD or something. Please note this point.
Leading the Monk Life
Morning Prayer
Next morning I woke up early to attend the morning prayer. Their quilts are surprisingly warm and insulate you completely from the sub zero temperatures that are achieved at night. I quickly brushed and rushed towards the prayer hall. The view outside was spectacular.
The hall is quite small with pics of Dalai lama and the head monk of the Gelugpa sect. It was full of young monks, bursting with energy and playing little pranks on each other.
There is a separate line of cushions for visitors to sit upon and witness the proceedings. I took my spot and was quickly served butter tea in the bowl given to me last evening. Soon there was sattu that was supposed to be mixed with the butter tea — they call it breakfast. It’s supposed to be very healthy, nutritious and good for your stomach — but it tastes like tihs.
I barely managed to finish and headed back to the kitchen to wash my dishes. The kitchen head lamaji poked fun at me asking how I found it. He obviously knew the answer. This was not the first time a guest had the privilege to eat sattu. I smiled trying to hide my pain and said it was ok — it was my first time so it was different. Different — yeah right!
School Assembly
The gompa in Key Gompa means school. Young kids — as young as five are sent there to become monks. The tradition around the valley says that the elder kid gets all the land and property while the youngest kid has to become a monk. At least one child from every household has to become a monk. So if you are the youngest kid and born in Spiti — your fate is pretty much sealed. Thank your stars Monal. It’s considered an honour to be a monk — for everyone except the five year old Nitin lama who has no clue what is happening. He stands there at the morning prayer with his hands behind and simply stares around. He neither exercises nor does he sing the national anthem. He just stands. The poor kid misses his family and just wants to go home I guess. Surprisingly the teachers are not strict at all. They empathise with him and understand what he’s going through. They put a bit of effort to make him stand in visharam or exercise but quickly give up as Nitin lama becomes Gama.
I also had a long conversation with one of the teachers and we spoke about everything from Delhi’s odd-even formula to how remains of a cremated Rinpoche get crystallised due to their pure souls (and he has seen it with his very own eyes). We also discussed the Gyu mummy and what buddhism wishes to impart.
Walk down to Ki village
Me, Prateek and Rubina decided to spend the rest of the day by walking down to the Key village and the river side. Vibhooti and her friend George decided to leave the monastery and spend a night at the Nunnery across the river. We waited for lunch which happens at 11AM (and the evening tea is at 2PM) before we started walking down to the village using a shortcut.
The thing with these places is that the roads are all zig zag around the hill and therefore the actual distance is almost doubled or tripled. Normally you can just walk down the hill using trails created by locals but it can get tricky at certain places. The problem with me was that I wasn’t prepared for this trip at all. My shoes had no grip or sturdiness and unlike other travellers carrying a rucksack, I actually had a suitcase which turned out to be a huge pain when I left the monastery. I slid and tumbled my way down until we touched the last leg of the road.
Key Village
The village itself is quite small with nothing except mud houses and an old age home which is very unusual for this region. Parents are taken care of by the children and upon enquiring we found that no old people actually lived there yet. We started walking around trying to find a traditional house and family to click. Prateek and Rubina were particularly interested with their DSLRs hanging by their necks. I just had my little iPhone.
The village itself is very quiet and mostly stony with trees everywhere. It was chillingly quiet but I was just envious of the people living here. This was a dreamy location. There were lush green pea farms to your right, a beautiful river flowing down the road and the view of a near 1000 year old monastery upwards with mountains looking down upon us from everywhere.
We quickly realised the village was deserted as we tried to knock doors and find a house to enter and photograph. Everything was just locked and it left us baffled until we found a couple who was still at home. They told us that everyone was busy working at the farms. We got a nice welcome and managed to click some nice pics of the house and the family. We also helped the husband setup his solar panel. In return his wife offered us chai (tea) and tried selling us a few fossils. You actually find kids playing around with fossils in this part of the world and they’re quite commonly found lying around on the ground.
Chai
The other thing that Spiti people are crazy about is their tea. They literally consume a dozen glasses every day. There is tea at every hour of the day and it is offered to every guest and passerby. Everywhere I went, I was offered tea. Every time I entered the Every time kitchen, I was given a glass of butter tea. Even people who had no clue who I was would first hand over a cup of tea before asking what it was that I was looking for.
Whether it was the butter tea or namkeen chai which the locals traditionally consumed to wade off the winter cold or the usual meethi chai that dwellers of the plains like you and me consume (well you only since I’m a coffee guy), chai is an integral and inseparable part of life in this valley. I’ve probably never seen a stronger tea culture in my life.
River Bed
Our next destination was the actual river bed down the road. We headed there, crossing the gravels by its side and the village cemetery (what a beautiful place to rest in peace — right by the Spiti river!) and muddy bank. This reminded me of our spot earlier. We could see little tornadoes carrying dust across the river bed which was slightly dry thanks to the summers.
We spent quite a while there absorbing the magnitude of the terrain and enormity of nature around us. There was also a little competition of stone skipping which I was terrible at. Rubina beat us all.
The Aunty
It was getting very windy and chilly down there. Evening was upon us and we knew the uphill walk was going to be a long and tiring one. There was no chance of walking up the trail and we would have to tread the long pakka road up. If we were lucky enough we would hitchhike with one of the tourists from Kaza who come during the daytime to visit the monastery or even the evening bus from Kaza.
On our way up we found the village still deserted but we encountered a calf and Prateek and Rubina just had to play around with it. Being the animal lover that I am, I simply clicked pictures.
As we hit the road leading up, we encountered a very old aunty filling a pot of water. She must have been at least 80. She was the first to initiate conversation and asked us about where we had come from and the like. She was very warm and polite and as like Spitians invited us to her home for a cup of chai and some conversation. That was weird to me. Almost nowhere that I have travelled has a stranger simply invited me to their house for a cup of chai and conversation. Any other part of India either one of us would be scared of the other but not in Spiti. Let me just put it out here. Spiti is the safest I’ve felt in the whole of world. Period.
We went into her house which was the first one as you enter the village. Prateek even offered to pick up the water can for her but she adamantly refused saying that she could do it and it helps her keep fit. Our request for photographs was denied so I don’t have anything else to show but only tell.
What I expected to be a 10–15 minute detour turned into an hour long conversation with mostly the aunty pouring her heart out to us. She lived alone as her husband had passed away and both her daughters had been married off. She was particularly affectionate of the younger one who had just gotten married to a Tibetan boy residing in the USA. As the story got along I felt a sense of horror. It seemed like something wrong had happened. Her son in law had taken around 30 lakh rupees from her for her daughter’s VISA which she justified saying that permanent US VISAs are particularly expensive. They might be but I’m pretty sure it can’t be 30 lakhs. On top of that he had come after close to 4 years to get her. She calls her up very rarely and speaks in a low voice. I just hope it’s not true — what I’m thinking. The conversation quickly turned to all sorts of topics. It was clear she felt lonely and did not find much company around. It was lovely though — a small mud house and hot cups of chai to keep the conversation going.
The Temples of Key
After coming back we were given a tour of the various temples inside the monastery. There are a total of 7 (I’m not so sure about the number anymore as there could be further hidden rooms) temples in the monastery including one that is not open to tourists. By that time we had become such good friends with them that we got a tour of that dark, mysterious room too. And yes you also get a cup of herbal tea before the tour begins. Of course no photographs are allowed but I must assure you that there are some crazy old mysterious Buddhist things up there.
Sidhartha Adhikari
We reached just in time to see the bus arrive. Hitchhiking had been thoroughly unsuccessful and we had had to walk all the way up amongst unforeseen winds. Upon arriving in my room I found a new room mate. A 30 something year old skinny man wearing a bushy beard. His name was Sidhartha. As we had nothing more to do but speak, we just started talking and soon the conversation turned fascinating with us pandering about films, Bollywood romance, Buddhism and solo travelling. He was particularly fascinating with his deeply philosophical questions and soon I found a buddy to talk Buddhism, enlightenment, the ways of the world and life in general. As I learnt later, he was almost 36 and single. He lived a very simple life and loved to travel. In fact he had been on the road for almost 6 months now!
Last Day at the Gompa
Everything was on routine the next day. This time all of us decided to visit the school after the morning assembly. It’s a pretty small school comprising of a couple of classrooms on a single floor. Every room comprises of more than one class and being a primary school most monks study Hindi, English, Math, Science and Bhoti — the local language. Everything is pretty chilled out.
We again met the same primary teacher who was trying hard to teach the hindi alphabet to 5 year olds.
We also went to a class of older monks studying in class 6, 7 and 8. The teacher was missing so they were just having fun, pulling each other’s legs and teasing them about their crushes on various heroines like Alia Bhatt who has visited for Highway just a couple of years earlier.
Everything was so simple and chilled out. No pressure. It makes you wonder how different life is there. There’s little ambition floating around in the air. Days are monotonous and slow. The nights cold and low.
Leaving Gompa
We had sattu in the morning again. One of the things that was decided last night was that we might leave the monastery and head to the Lalung monastery because apparently it was extremely beautiful. I wasn’t as sure. I had planned on spending a couple of days at Key although I had found out after reaching that nowadays they do not permit anyone to stay for more than 3 days. Here I am reminded to tell you that the charges are just 200 rupees which includes 3 meals, 5–6 servings of chai and a bed in the dormitory. At last I decided to leave and explore Spiti further as the company was good and anyways I would have to leave the day after. With a heavy heart and some reluctance I decided to pack my bags.
After stuffing lunch we headed to Kaza. The only way to reach was to hitchhike. Taxis were too costly.
Hitchhiking is a viable option if you have days to spend with no particular agenda and just want to enjoy and stroll around. We had a terrible experience. As it is few vehicles pass by you on those roads. Traffic is very sparse. Most of it is tourist vehicles and they almost never stop. We had two Delhi SUVs just fly by us as we waved for lift. One of them in fact pressed the pedal harder as it approached — almost killing us. We even crossed an elderly white couple who had hired an entire SUV for themselves and plainly told to our face that there was no space. I’m not trying to stereotype but I don’t think an Indian would have lied to us so flatly. I mean we can literally see it. You have a 7 seater with 3 people occupying it and the 4 of us requesting a lift. The road leads nowhere except Kaza. What do you want people? So we just walked. Luckily for us we were crossed by a small native family in a car who halted. We decided to load our luggage and send Rubina with them. Next we had a young man on a bike heed to our request and we sent Prateek packing. It was me and Siddharth now.
It wasn’t until we had walked close to 5KM that we spotted a native driving towards us. Did you notice the monk I asked you to? It was him. And me and Sidhartha were left wondering why he did not offer to drive us down since he was going there. Maybe it wasn’t planned. So we decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. It got weirder still. He dropped us right where Kaza started as he had some work. We asked if he could drop us to the bus stop at the opposite corner of the city. Kaza isn’t huge but we were exhausted and he had a car. Plus there was no traffic in that corner of the country obviously. He refused. Lest you get the wrong impression I must tell you that everyone without exception at the monastery was the most amazing and kind person we had met. This one we had not interacted with. He was a senior monk and would not be found except for the morning prayer. So we said chuck it and started walking down. We crossed the entire town. Walking here is especially tiring because the roads are constant zig and zag, up and down and the altitude is 12000 feet so you’re literally begging the atmosphere for some freaking oxygen. Just as we were about to touch the bus stop we spotted him again at a shop buying something. Mother of God! He looked at us and smiled. We were exhausted but smiled in anger and bafflement.
Sidhartha knew this place where you get samosas and jalebis so we headed there and gorged on dirt cheap but very tasty snacks. After a bit of searching we found Prateek and Rubina and our luggage. It was about 3:30 in the afternoon and now all we had to do was wait for the 5 o’clock bus. We also learnt that the local who had given a lift to Rubina had tried to get smart and asked for a 100 bucks upon arriving to which she had made an angry face and shooed him away. He wasn’t particularly insistent but he had never made that clear. It was sad that the people of this region had started to be affected by money. You might wonder why I’m bitching so much for 100 bucks in a poor region like this. Firstly these people are not poor. Those farmers at Key make a handsome return as the peas and potatoes of Lahaul and Spiti are some of the finest and most expensive anywhere in the world thanks to the pristine conditions maintained here even in 2016. Secondly I expect someone from Delhi/Mumbai/Ahmedabad to do this but not them. They are not poor because they don’t need much. Everything is surprisingly cheap including ration, and life is very very simple. But I think the infection of capitalism has started to creep and corrupt them. It’s just sad. I don’t want it to become another McLeod Ganj where people from Delhi and Chandigarh flock to during weekends, polluting both the land and people with garbage and greed.
Very soon everyone was bored and we city dwellers just can’t handle that can we? So Sidhartha started enquiring about buses in general and found that there was one leaving for Pin valley right now at 4. Rubina had expressed a desire to go to Pin the night before and joined the chorus. Prateek was like “I don’t mind”. I was devastated. How can you do that? First you take me away from Key monastery and now instead of Lalung we’re heading to Pin just because we don’t want to wait another hour. Those places are not even in the same direction. Horror. That was too much randomness even for me. All my life I had been led on thoroughly pre planned tours of the places we had visited. By the time I had processed all this everyone had gotten onto the bus and it was leaving. I quickly hopped on reassuring myself that:
Mann ka ho to accha, na ho to aur bhi accha
Mudh
We crossed the river to move to the valley on the other side — Pin. This one was different — much much greener. It was almost like Kashmir although I’ve never been there. Close to 2 and a half hours later we reached a village called Mudh completely exhausted but mesmerised.
We found two cheap rooms quickly. They cost us just 300 bucks a night per room and were pretty clean and comfortable. Prateek and Sidhartha shared one while me and Rubina shared the other. All of us quickly refreshed and grabbed dinner at a cool Israeli place opposite to us — also the only place open and headed to doze off. Me and Rubina instead ended up talking late into the night about various things. I was particularly impressed by how much of the world she had travelled at such a young age. All of us had also discovered our ages and I was surprised to learn that Rubina was just 22 and not 26 or 28 as she appeared. What was more embarrassing was that based on the way I spoke they all thought I was 30 something. Apparently my tastes were too mature which feels good but is quite amusing.
A Day at Pin valley
The next day we woke up really late by Spiti standards. We got ready and had some breakfast before we decided to walk down, cross the river at the bottom of the village and move to the lush green stretch across. We had also been joined by one of Prateek’s seniors who had been travelling all alone and was a film direction student at FTII.
After battling with the river crossing, which required one to jump like the olympics especially given the amazing grip of my shoes, we had to cross a shaky bridge that ran over fast moving water. We decided to get some snaps lest they turn out to be our last.
Having crossed the bridge while holding our breath we started on an uphill climb. Nothing was tiring anymore after 3 days in Spiti. The scenery and landscape was what used to take our breath away.
The patch that we finally arrived upon lead to a trekking route across the Pin Valley National Park — a favourite of snow leopards, to Kasol eventually. Luckily we didn’t spot any feline. The scenery was absolutely mind blowing.
We just decided to lie down and breathe in the grass (not what you are thinking). Life here was slow as the wind fast. We probably just lay down for an hour simply staring at the beauty around us.
As I lay there thinking I told myself — “Thank god I listened to these guys instead of clinging on to my fears”. The trip to clad had been unexpectedly nice and the mantra of my trip and something that I decided to follow in life once in awhile was again:
Mann ka ho to accha, na ho to aur bhi accha
But this wasn’t the first time it had happened on this trip.
The Theft at Hill Hacks
Upon arriving at Ghoomakad for Hill Hacks, I had been greeted by Hari who assigned me a room on the ground floor. Except the next night a lady from Mumbai arrived and was assigned the exact same bed by someone else. What do we do now? The only option now was for one of us two to move to the room upstairs. Technically I had been the first one to have arrived and been assigned that bed so she should have moved upstairs. Plus there was no bed upstairs and you had to sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag! But she plainly refused saying she could neither climb up and down that often nor sleep in a bag. She was a nice lady. She wasn’t trying to play any tricks or make excuses especially about not being able to climb up and down. But I was pissed. Reluctantly I moved upstairs. Only a couple of days later — the night after the village fair got over there was a theft in Ghoomakad. Only one room had been ransacked. The one I had given up! A gang of robbers had somehow managed to sneak in and without waking up anyone left with laptops, cameras and bags. Hari lost cash worth 50,000 and that poor lady lost a laptop, camera and some other things. When I learnt that not only was I shocked but to admit it honestly also very relieved. Had I not moved upstairs (and we locked our room by the way) I would have lost my phone and Macbook for sure.
Mann ka ho to accha, na ho to aur bhi accha
The Couple from Noida
That evening we were joined by another couple on the dining table at that Israeli restaurant. Turned out they were a media executive and a nutritionist from Noida and were on a getaway. They were quite fascinated by all of us and we had a great conversation on taking that step forward where you live life the way you want to instead of heeding to modern day slavery. The cool thing was that they had their own car and Sidhartha asked if they could give them a lift from Kaza to Manali via Chandra Taal since our dates for leaving Kaza coincided. They said “Sure, of course. There’s a lot of space in the car” and we fixed up to meet in Kaza on the 12th of June. All this while we had been slightly reluctant if we were intruding into their privacy and whether they really wanted to take us along and we had asked them plainly about it. But the jovial couple happily smiled saying it wouldn’t be a problem at all.
Leaving for Dhankar
We woke up early the next morning to catch a glimpse of the beauty we had missed yesterday and also the only bus to Kaza.
But this was what we had missed by sleeping till late yesterday.
Our next stop was going to be a day trip to Dhankar monastery and then come spend the night at Kaza. Our 2 day trip had been extended by another and Prateek realised he just had to leave. His college had started and soon the practicals would start too. Remember that he had arrived almost 2 or 3 days before me. All of us especially me and Sidhartha were busy trying to convince him to hold on but he wouldn’t listen. His plan was to leave through the Reckong Peo route (which I had taken while coming) to complete the circuit. He had arrived from the Manali side via a shared taxi. When you come from Pin valley, you cross the Spiti river to arrive back on NH505 after crossing a bridge. That’s where we got down as Dhankar lies to the south and while Kaza to the north. There’s a bus from Kaza to Peo that leaves in the morning — the only one, and we had to catch it. The cool thing about such small places is the willingness of people to help. It also stems from the fact that there’s literally just one bus from point A to B and if you miss it then you’re just stuck. The bus conductor called up the conductor of that bus and informed about us so that they would wait up in case we got late. We got down and stretched a bit. The bus from Mudh had left at 6:30 in the morning and all of us were still quite sleepy.
Prateek leaves us
We lazily stretched waiting for the bus from Kaza to arrive. When it did everyone tied their luggage to bars on the roof while I carried my suitcase with me. It was turning quite cumbersome now. There was a last ditch effort from our side to convince Prateek to hold on but he ended up buying a full ticket to Peo and we unfortunately had to say goodbye to him as Dhankar arrived.
Dhankar
Dhankar used to be the capital of Spiti until Kaza out developed it. Today Kaza is the most or rather the only modern town in the whole valley. There’s not much you’d miss there if you came from the rest of India. But Dhankar has almost frozen in time. It’s still a tiny old village with old buildings and a crumbling monastery. It is also supposed to have a beautiful lake. But I already had my doubts about “beautiful lakes” from Nako and the absence of internet had made it impossible to look up a picture. Chandra Taal on the other hand was a much larger and magnificent lake with overnight camps being held as it is 10–12KM away from the nearest village and off the route to Manali. Dhankar also lies almost 12KM uphill from the highway. There was no way we could walk that much with our luggage and thus we decided to wait at the gate of the village for a ride to arrive. If I haven’t told you about the pains of hitchhiking here then let me reiterate. Don’t depend on it unless you have no specific agendas to meet and loads of time on hand. I think we ended up waiting for close to an hour before a taxi arrived. It had been hired by a Bengali couple from Gurgaon. Sidhartha asked if they could take us to Dhankar. It was an SUV with two passengers and one driver. Surely it had enough space for us. The driver happily agreed and then said
Har admi ka 100 rupay lagega
I’ll charge ₹100 per person
Seriously? You’re going up there anyway and we have no other way. Plus there’s ample space! The Bengali couple kept quite. Sidhartha tried to talk him down.
Aap to bade businessman ban gaye ho
You’ve become a big businessman
But this guy had the leverage and he was ruthless. So much for the simplicity of Spiti. Most people are still very simple but with the onset of tourism some people have sharpened their money making skills.
But what could we do? Wait another couple of hours for not paying a 100 bucks. This was the only vehicle to cross us in the past hour or so and we could not take a chance as we had to catch the evening bus to Kaza.
Dhankar New Monastery Guest House
Just as you enter Dhankar you see the new monastery. A new monastery has been built alongside all the old monasteries in Spiti which are roughly usually more than 900 years old. Dhankar is slightly special in the sense that it’s monastery is actually crumbling. It has been declared one of the 100 most endangered sites in the world by World Monuments Fund. A small non profit initiative called the Dhankar Initiative is now trying to mobilise funds for repairing and restoring it. The old monastery is the on the other end of the village — a rather small village with just 68 families residing. There are only a handful of home stays and I believe most families resort to either farming or labour at the drilling sites. The lake is a few kilometers further and thus the driver left us there to move ahead.
We went up for a quick breakfast but decided to instead eat at the monastery or somewhere in the village after looking at the rather expensive menu (by Spiti standards). As we walked across tiny Dhankar I could not help but notice the absolutely stunning landscape around and also the fact that it was being drilled continuously to create wider and wider roads.
Dhankar Monastery
Dhankar monastery is quite small and atop a cliff. It makes you wonder if people here are scared of anything at all. What if the hill crumbles? For centuries that had never been a problem although the monastery had suffered some damage in an earthquake in 1975. Remember this was a cold desert. Rains are supposed to be scant. But for the past couple of years the problem had been aggravated by unforeseen rainfall. Leo was right — climate change is real.
The village is perched up 12KM (by road) from NH505 and surrounded by 7 mountains and floats in mid air. Right across you can see Pin valley. The roads are poor and narrow. Everywhere I walked I was a little scared to slide off and fall down.
Alas we reached the top. But before heading to the monastery we touched base with what appeared to be a residential quarter for the head monk. It was locked but we decided to do a parikrama. It was amazing how this person lived. His house was just a single room built right at the edge of the cliff on the topmost hill of Dhankar. It had a single toilet and a kitchen right across the entrance and around his room was a small verandah made out of stone. If you stand on that narrow corridor right off the cliff, this is what you see:
This isn’t for the weak hearted but it makes you wonder how amazing this monk’s evening chill time must be. Remember that this hill top is crumbling and there’s no way to predict which would be your last day alive.
Buddhism Sucks
I love Buddhism. I’m agnostic but of all religions I adore Buddhism the most. I don’t plan on converting or anything but I love it’s simple principles and intention. It’s probably the only religion that arose out of the need to end human suffering. Most other religions were either ways of civilisation or efforts to bring together nomadic tribes under a uniform civil law. Buddhism in it’s essence is very simple — eradicate worldly desires to end suffering and do not cause any sort of harm to other creatures. Basically just chill and let others chill. It’s not even right to call it a religion. It’s more of a philosophy — teachings to lead life in a certain manner that is not painful to oneself and others whether physically, mentally, emotionally or financially. Over centuries it has become a religion — a cult — a set of rituals.
The reason I’m telling you all this is because today I got to see all the downsides of what buddhism has become over years and how capitalism and materialism has started drenching into the fabric of even one of the most remotest of regions in the world. We already had faced the driver and I hope you remember the local who had asked for a 100 bucks from Rubina when she hitchhiked from Key to Kaza. Now we saw a sign inside the monastery that said that women were not allowed to go on the rooftop. Why? I expect that from Hinduism, Christianity and Islam. But I don’t adore them. I adore Buddhism and I certainly don’t expect that from them. Buddhism still I believe is overall far more liberal and respectful of the fair sex. You’ll learn one very interesting fact in this regard very soon.
This sign really really put me off. I was pissed. Very pissed. I asked Sid and Ruby if we could leave now. I just wanted to get out of that place and run away. I was disillusioned with the very place and thing I had thought could incite enlightenment. That’s when I realised along with my stay at Key Gompa that while we seek enlightenment in places and religion, it only lies within. That’s what Vipassana had preached to me a year back but it was only now that I had experienced and thus truly understood it. You don’t need to go to Spiti to get enlightened. Surely it can inspire you but you can achieve whatever state of mind you wish sitting right here in Gurgaon. It was liberating and I felt light.
By this time it was close to 1 o’clock and all of us were hungry. We hadn’t eaten anything since morning and started looking for places to eat. The monastery refused to serve us food and the couple of restaurants in the village were either closed or said it would take more than an hour to prepare food. We decided to walk back to the guest house to eat some expensive food. On our way back this peculiar sign board cracked me up.
After a quick lunch of poorly cooked Shakshouka we decided to walk down. Walking down is easier right? Not so much if you take the shortcuts of rocky slopes full of rolling stones while wearing shoes with zero grip and a suitcase in your hand. Let’s just say I managed.
Sanjeev and that weird Nepali guy
We touched NH505 somewhere around 4 in the afternoon. The bus was still an hour away so we decided to try and hitchhike again. Of course without paying any money as we’d rather catch the bus. Suddenly we saw a truck driving towards us. It was clear that this was some sort of Army or military truck and these people are almost always helpful so we started waving and surely enough they stopped. We threw our luggage behind and jumped on by climbing the huge tires. The back was loaded with ration and groceries and there was hardly any place to stand. Also accompanying us were two guys — a 40 something beared Bengali called Sanjeev and a dark Nepali guy who looked like a native. Sanjeev had a bottle of whiskey in his hand that he was consuming neat and boy was he high. I soon learnt that he actually lived quite close to me in Gurgaon. Accompanying him was this Nepali guy who had been living in Kaza for close to 30 years now. This was one weird man (but very nice and helpful as we later found out). He started telling me about how his uncle has brought him here as a kid to work and how the dust had made him really dark. Yes he was a very dark Nepali — you don’t get to see that often do you? He also told me about this novel tradition in the valley where a woman can have multiple husbands. He seemed to particularly like it. He was sleazy in general. But what really caught my attention was how beautiful he found the surroundings. Every now and then he would point out to the mountains or the river and marvel at it’s beauty quite vocally which left me wondering how can someone who has lived her all his life — 3 decades for that matter still marvel at the same beauty with such splendid glow in his eyes. On our way we gave lift to an old lady who seemed like a farmer. She was quite healthy and was having a difficult time climbing the truck. The Nepali guy helped her out.
Theek ho na? Uthane mein mushkil ho rahi thi. Aap bahut mote ho.
Are you fine? Lifting you was difficult because you are very fat
I was horrified. How can you say something like that to an old lady? Siddharth probably saw the look on my face and quickly pointed out to me that in this part of the region they don’t mind such things. If you’re fat you’ll be called fat. It’s not an insult. Just a fact. And for that matter of fact no one here can actually be deemed unfit thanks to the harsh terrain, healthy food and daily lifestyle.
Stay at Kaza
It turned out the truck belonged to the Border Roads Organisation. They dropped us at their base camp just as you enter Kaza. We started walking down. By this time — and Sanjeev probably doesn’t know this — all of us were feeling a little weird about Sanjeev because he was as high as our altitude and we were praying that he parts ways but no! He kept following us and so did the Nepali guy who was trying to get us a cheap hotel. Me, Sidhartha and Rubina kept looking at each other making gestures wondering how to get rid of Sanjeev. Eventually we settled upon a hotel deep into the main road that led to the bus stop. We got a really nice room with two beds for just 600 bucks. Sanjeev was going to be with us for the night and there was nothing we could do about it. We didn’t know him well and we weren’t judging him as a person but he was just drinking way too much. By this time he had went out and bought another couple of whiskeys that he was consuming almost alone. Alcohol makes people unpredictable and we had an unpredictable stranger with us in our room for an entire night.
Rubina was particularly happy with the cheap clean room we had managed to score and the quality of the sheets. Now the decision was whether I should come along with them to Chandra taal or head back to Manali. By this time we had figured out that the couple weren’t willing to accommodate more than 2 people based on our last minute conversation with them before leaving Mudh. I had turned greedy by then and wanted to visit Chandra accommodate but then I had already overstayed and wasn’t too keen on intruding on someone’s privacy either. I thought it best to leave but with a very heavy heart. And of course I wanted to go via Manali to complete the circuit and see that route (which I had heard was far more beautiful than the Peo one). Taxis for Manali leave early morning around 6:30AM from the Kaza bus stop. One needs to reserve their seat the day before. Just then Sanjeev returned with his receipt of reservation. Damn I said. I also needed one. He asked me to rush pointing that the seats were about to get full. “But don’t worry. If you don’t find one we can share it. Tu meri godi mein beth jaana”. I dashed out and ran breathless across the town to the taxi union.
The guys managing the seating seemed high. They said the last seat was gone just 5 minutes before I arrived. “You don’t understand, my friend is leaving tomorrow and we need to leave together” I said. Very reluctantly he agreed to note down my name and asked me to arrive by 6AM. I went back disappointed. What am I going to do? Firstly I didn’t want to go back. Now I probably would neither be able to go to Manali nor Chandra taal tomorrow. Spending another day in Kaza was the last thing I wanted to do. “Don’t worry yaar. I’ll make sure you get onto the car. We’ll share my seat” said Sanjeev to me. Suddenly the fear of an unpredictable drunk man was being overshadowed by a warm, sweet Bengali.
Civilisation — here we come!
Next morning I said final goodbyes to Rubina and Sidhartha and headed to the bus stop with Sanjeev. After convincing these guys for almost half an hour they finally agreed to allocate a seat to me in the front row while Sanjeev sat behind. Awesome. The trip was finally on and I was heading back home. Sidhartha and Rubina were supposed to meet that couple around 9 or 10 at the bus stop and head to Chandra taal. Accompanying us was a really cool aunty who was actually a teacher, theatre artist and documentary maker based out of Shimla. The driver was a cool chap and we were off. I soon realised why they called this a beautiful route. The weather that day only added to it. The aunty was a talkative one but not boring at all. Sanjeev who had always been spell bounded by this part of the world could not stop marvelling. “I wish I could buy a house and live here forever” he said. “Non jana can’t buy land here” I quickly pointed out. “Unless you marry a girl from Spiti” interjected the lady quickly. “Damn. I’m married” said Sanjeev and we all chuckled.
Losar
Our next stop was Losar, a tiny village famous for it’s fossils. The whole caravan comprising of 5 cars halted for breakfast. Beautiful chilly weather with light drizzle and me and Sanjeev had hot omelette and parathas with chai.
“The route ahead is way more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen” the aunty said to us. And boy was she right.
Our next halt was Kunzum la — a pass where Spiti ended and Lahaul started. The temple of Kunzum mata at 4600 m of altitude — the highest I’d been to in this trip was a sure shot stop for everyone passing through. It’s said coins thrown at the stone idol with true wishes in the heart stick. I tried but mine didn’t.
Irrespective of this disappointment the scenery around is one of the most beautiful I’ve experienced in my life. It’s truly breathtaking with snow clad peaks right in front of you. This was the first time I had seen snow. At such heights even in the month of June the snow was intact though surely melting slowly.
We halted for a quick lunch at a tiny little dhaba in the middle of nowhere. One can enjoy absolutely fresh and unlimited hot roti, sabji, rajma and rice with salad for just 80 bucks.
Soon we were descending. The road got dustier. Along the way we could see the Border Roads Organisation laying out cables and wires. The conditions they work in are only to be seen to believed and the skill with which they control their JCBs will rattle your heart. Every now and then they have to move to the very edge of the open road to make way for people like us. You quickly realise that even half an inch of wrong steering would make the JCB roll down the mountain and India’s population would be less by one.
Rohtang La
Finally as we approached Manali, we touched the famous Rohtang La — a beautiful spot that was still covered in snow. It had been raining for a while and the driver had asked us to look out for the morons who get themselves clicked in Ski suites. I mean seriously? You wear a Ski suite, stand on ice with the SRK pose and pretend to know skiing?
Manali to Delhi and Tarun
Police
After 6 days my phone was about to receive some Airtel love. And when it did I got a call in like 2 seconds. An unknown number. Interesting I said to myself. I picked it up and was greeted by an urgent voice.
Ujjwal? Delhi ho? Theek ho?
Ujjwal? Where are you? Are you ok?
What?
Abhi Manali pahucha hoon
I’ve just reached Manali
I said
Main ekdum theek hoon par aap bol kaun rahe ho?
And I’m absolutely fine but who is this?
I wondered
Main Parashar uncle bol raha hoon Bangalore se. Pehchana? Main papa ke saath 2 P&S mein tha Dilli mein. Papa ko phone kardo bahut pareshaan hain. Tumne call nahi kiya to bahut tension mein aa gaye the. Waha monastery mein bhi call kiya tha. Police dhoond rahi hai aapko Spiti mein.
I’m Parashar uncle. I’m calling from Bangalore. Remember me? I’m in the Air Force police. Please call up your father. He got very worried when you did not call up for many days. We even called up the monastery and alerted the local police. They are searching for you.
What! I just realised the call wasn’t a coincidence. My phone was being tracked for signal and they had called me up as soon as I had shown up on the radar.
Suddenly as the 3G kicked in I started getting a flood of messages from worried friends and family members and my brother Monal. I was shocked.
I spent the next hour or two contacting them back and informing that I was fine. My bua called up by chance as she was just trying out if she could reach my number and it did. By this time I was pissed. Absolutely furious at my parents for overreacting like this. My mood was off for the first time in days.
To add to this we encountered horrendous traffic. It was a Sunday and there was a huge jam. The driver told me this was routine. This was my first time in Manali and I was absolutely disgusted by the horrendous crowd there. Hoards of tourists — mostly from Delhi and Chandigarh flock in over the weekend to eat the same food they do in their homes and to chill in the crowded streets which choke the traffic and our ears.
We got down near the bus stop and I frantically left trying to find the 6:30 bus as we were late. Sanjeev decided to stay back for the night as he was supposed to meet his wife. I managed to find the bus but they absolutely refused to let me board since it was full — Sunday evening I said to myself. As I frantically tried to find another one — probably a private one — I bumped into a man trying to sell his tickets. This guy had bought 6 tickets for his family and now had to cancel them. He was selling them for the same price he had bought them for — 1300 bucks — the same I would have paid anyway in the HRTC bus. I quickly agreed and he took me and another couple to a private bus stand. The bus sucked. It was cramped and kept halting everywhere to pick passengers. Eventually it reached Delhi 5 hours late. To give me company was another 25–26 something hip hopper called Tarun who also had bought a ticket like me from the same desperate man.
Just as I settled in I received a call from Dad. I asked if we could talk a bit later as there was a lot of noise and I was just settling in. Very politely he said no. We had a brief conversation about my disappearance. He was absolutely calm which I did not expect. I thought he would blast at me. On my part I was a little agitated as to why they had gone to such extreme steps. The anger hadn’t disappeared yet. In hindsight it was my stupidity which lead to all this. It makes you realise that while you may not love yourself, there are others who do and you mean the world to them.
Biotech
Tarun turned out to be an MBA from Nirma university — my alma mater. So we started off on that connect and chattered a bit. He was a musician who was often here to play at Israeli-only clubs. We chatted about music, he made me hear a few of his pieces and then he went on to talk about India’s great past and mythology. Then came that freak moment when he talked about this yogi they had encountered on a mountain top.
Unhone mujhe poocha pata hai duniya khatam kaise hogi?
He asked me do you know how the world will end?Maine poocha kaise?
I asked how?Jis din insaan apne shareer ko badalne lagega na us din
The day humans start altering and designing their bodyYeh biotech wagera jo hai na usse khatam hogi duniya. Bahut jald future mein hum jitna chahe utna lamba jee payenge aur apne shareer aur prakriti ko bhi design aur change karne lagenge. Yeh nature ke against hain isiliye tab nature duniya ko khatam kar degi.
This biotech stuff will end the world. Very soon in the future we’ll become immortal and also design and alter our body and nature. This is against the principle of nature and therefore nature itself will end the world.
Will I end the world I asked myself. I don’t think so. He turned out to be so self-obsessed that he never even bothered to ask what I did. He was only here to tell me that I might end this world.
How was Chandra Taal?
A few days after arriving in Delhi I pinged up Rubina about their experience in Chandra Taal.
Mann ka ho to accha, na ho to aur bhi accha
Conclusion and reflection
Overall it was the most memorable trip of my life — the kind of adventure most people usually only dream of — all because I dared to go for it at every step of the way. There were butterflies in my stomach every single day but it all turned out fine in the end. Spiti especially is an extremely safe and cheap place to wander in. I learnt a lot of life lessons, had moments of deep realisations and enlightenment especially that enlightenment is a lifelong process. It’s fuzzy and not a single point of attainment. Most importantly I had experiences that made me grow and I made some amazing friends. Sometimes it is only by going far away from the normal do we find the normality in our lives.
