Spiti — Part 3
Self discovery in an undiscovered land
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. Everytime I entered the Gompa 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 gravel 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 like all 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 leavin 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.
