Valley of the Gods
We are spending the month in the Kullu valley, located in the foothills of the Himalayas in the state of Himachal Pradesh. We are staying at a homestay (basically the same thing as a bed and breakfast, but with lunch and dinner available as well) in the village of Raison. The property is situated right on the Beas River, with steep hillsides rising dramatically on either side. Our room, located in a separate building from the main house, is cozy and comfortable, heated by a wood stove that I am still learning to master.
Overnight the temperature drops down close to freezing, but the sun is strong here, and on clear days it is warm enough to eat lunch outside by the river. Because the valley is so steep, the day’s sunshine is short-lived. It is light by seven, but the sun doesn’t rise over the mountains across the river to the East until a little after nine, and in the evenings it drops below the mountains to the West before four. The nights are dark and very quiet, save for the gentle rushing of the river. We are both sleeping better than we have in years.
The Kullu Valley is known as the Valley of the Gods, for the sheer number of gods, their colorful stories, and the unique role they play in everyday village life. The gods in question are temple idols. While some may be no more than a few inches in height, their stature and political power in their communities is great.
No matter what arrangements, approvals, or permits may be in place, nothing happens in the valley without the permission of the local gods. A plan by a group of investors led by Alfred Ford, great-grandson of Henry Ford and heir to the Ford fortune, to build a $350 million ski resort was completely shut down by the local gods, despite the investors having purchased the land and secured approval from the Indian government.
The gods make their opinions known via their gurs, representatives who act as oracles by going into a trance and speaking in tongues under the control of the god. There are some 365 gods in the valley, and each October they converge in Dhalpur for the Dussehra festival, during which they pay tribute to Raghunath, the principal god of the valley.
The gods travel via raths, elaborately decorated palanquins carried by attendants. The gods are carried on foot the whole way. They are forbidden to travel by motor vehicle or through a tunnel on their way to the Dussehra. Their palanquins are accompanied by processions, which prominently feature a band, as well as attendants carrying incense and other holy objects. The gods travel for other occasions as well; we have encountered multiple of these processions during our stay in the valley.
Like the gurs who speak in tongues under the control of the gods, the attendants who carry the them report that once they put the rath on their shoulders they no longer move of their own volition, but are controlled by the will of the gods.
To us outsiders, these practices seem quaint and strange. It is hard to take seriously the idea of temple idols controlling people and exercising political power. But the people of the valley’s faith in the gods is unconditional. They believe in the gods’ authority as authentic conduits of communication from the heavenly to the earthly realm.
There are benefits to turning over earthly matters to the authority of the gods. Life in the valley is simple and hard: crops are grown on steep rocky soil in a harsh climate. Opportunities are limited: there is little industry outside of agriculture and tourism. For many of us in the West, with our comparatively vast material wealth and our panoply of choices, life seems to be something we can master and control. When inevitably some things don’t work out as planned, we suffer. We face frustration, depression, self-pity, self-loathing.
Turning over earthly matters to the authority of the gods is in part an acknowledgement that life is not something that can be mastered and controlled. This acknowledgement in turn makes the inevitable difficulties of life easier to bear. This is the doctrine of non-attachment as taught in Hinduism, Buddhism, and multiple other traditions. To avoid suffering in this life, we should focus on living in the present, accepting things as they are, and carrying out our actions without being attached to their yielding a particular outcome.
Devotion is one of the yogic paths to letting go of attachments to the outcomes of our actions. In Chapter 9 of the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna reveals “the secret of life.” Through unwavering devotion to Him, by performing all actions as an offering to Him, we can be freed from suffering, forever:
Whatever you do, Arjuna,
do it as an offering to me
whatever you say or eat
or pray or enjoy or sufferIn this way you will be freed
from all the results of your actions,
good or harmful; unfettered,
untroubled, you will come to me.
While we are enjoying our time here immensely, it can be hard at times to be away from family and friends during the holidays. So we have been doing things to inject a little extra Christmas spirit into our time here: writing cards, wrapping presents, and listening to lots of Christmas music.
One song that has really stood out to me this year is “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” There are two commonly recorded versions of the song: one with the lyrics Judy Garland recorded in 1944 for the film Meet Me in St. Louis, and one with the lyrics Frank Sinatra recorded in 1957 for the album A Jolly Christmas from Frank Sinatra. Garland’s version was popular among U.S. soldiers serving overseas during World War II. It is considerably more melancholy than Sinatra’s version, which he asked songwriter Hugh Martin to “jolly up” for him.
The crucial lines are, in the 1944 version:
Someday soon we all will be together
If the fates allow
Until then we’ll have to muddle through somehow
Which become, in the 1957 version:
Through the years we all will be together
If the fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough
For me “we’ll have to muddle through somehow” is the “Han shot first” of Christmas music. I prefer the melancholy line that acknowledges that life is not perfect, that it cannot always be mastered and controlled, that advocates for acceptance and living in the moment: “so have yourself a merry little Christmas now.”
I will try to remember this the next time I am struggling to get the wood stove lit in the morning. I will try to be grateful for the things I have: the time to read and think and write, this beautiful place with its mountains and fresh air and quiet, our family and friends who send us their love and encouragement. I will try to remember the yogic paths to freedom from attachments. I will try to let my heart be light and figure out how to muddle through.
I like to pay a visit each day to our local god, Shesh Nag, whose temple is right across from where we are staying, and ask him for a little extra help in remembering to stay on the path. From the Valley of the Gods, I am wishing that you have yourself a merry little Christmas, wherever you are.
This is one of a series of posts written during our travels. You can find the first post here, and you can find the next post here. You can sign up for email alerts about future posts here.
