Note# 5. through a forest of emotion (
Nagling to Son via Baling 7 Km)
It was a cold cosy night. We girls
were in the top room of the wood and mud thatched house that was to be our accommodation.
Also, after a late night of raucous singing, chakti drinking, and endless
binging, and the sound of the howling wind, sleep came quick and easy. We woke
to hot piping tea served by Dhiren and Avinash and to the early morning
chirpings of the birds… To be honest those darn birds woke too early and made
so much noise in every camp that I would be up by 4ish and toss and turn till
the others were up. Actually I didn’t mind the birds or the noise but I did
mind not overcoming my inertia to go out and be about. I just lay in there sulking
and waiting for everyone to raise and talk to me
There was a tiny room adjacent to
the loo that could be used as a bathroom. No hot water though. I just had to
have a bath and some of us did. Taking bath with cold icy water in the mornings
is not advisable for all. But once you do, you don’t feel cold any longer and
the day looks much brighter. I always take a bath wherever possible…some water
and a bit of privacy is all I need. And there is a technique…first keep all
clothes in the order of wearing. Then keep the soap, shampoo whatever you need
open and handy. First wet your head and wash your head…that kind of makes the
water friendlier. Then without thinking much just pour a big mugful over you. Yes
your breath is knocked out instantly and you gasp…but then there is no going
back. Do your business quickly with soap and more rinsing and reach for your
towel drying your body first and quickly dress up in layers.
After a hearty breakfast we set
out. My ankle wasn’t healed and I reluctantly gave up my backpack that day
onwards and carried just a haversack for my camera and warm clothes and other
emergencies. Not very proud…and vanity bruised I accepted my condition and realized
that if I don’t do anything about it soon and seriously…my future treks are
going to be similar. I keep bringing this up because it really was a rattling
shocking experience to not be able to direct my body to the wishes of my mind. And
the reality was painful to accept that I no longer was in control.
We walked along a more flat steady
path with gradual inclines and crossing streams and bridges. As we climbed
higher we turned into a deodar forest. The moment I turned a corner I felt I have
stepped into something sacred. The 9am morning light was soft, halo like and
blurred the sharp edges of everything. The patch of trees with the light
playing on their moss covered limbs threw a surreal view on display. And I felt
rooted to the spot like the high and mighty deodars silently communing with
their roots. Drawing strength and nourishment from the land and sending down a
blessing to them in return.
I hugged a tree and felt one with
it…hugged another and walked on. But there was this one tree that somehow beckoned
to me but I was shy to go back and give it a hug. I left with a silent promise
that I will spend some time with it on my way back. I am usually reluctant to
show my emotions and there is a lot that I hide, but when a tree beckons you
have to keep the promise.
Every patch of forest I walked I silently
prayed that may man never reach here with their roads and vehicles. If need be,
may the villagers go down to more accessible and prosperous lands in and beyond
Dharchula, but may these sacred beings always remain pristine and untouched. In these
times that’s all one can do isn’t it. The forest and the animals are losing
their battle every day. Lower down in the valley The river has lost its width,
the wild animals have all gone, musk deer is a growing myth, there is 2 inch
thick concrete dust on the spring flowers and a cheap price tag for everything wild.
The good is no longer winning it seems. And
man is only growing stronger in his greed. There is also another side to this…
As I grow older it gets harder to
choose sides. I was more clear in my 20ies whether its trees or people. But today
when I see an old man who had to carry his wife for 3 days for a treatment in
Dharchula…my idealistic tongue curls up and holds back. But there is a middle
ground. We can leave these places remote if the government can allow these
villagers more access (the army already flies in emergencies) to the air
sorties that go to and fro. And if the
focus can be on eco-tourism that can bring in the prosperity that the villagers
are hoping from roads and businesses… the people there know how to live with
the land. It’s their land after all. The trouble begins when this land will be
seen as a business opportunity by outsiders for other developments.
Thinking of these thoughts I walked
along with beautiful views of small buggials (meadows) across the mountain. The
path became more undulated and there was a slight chill. We came upon Bongling
village and stopped for some refreshments. Sunita the girl who ran the place
was a striking beauty. We placed our order for spicy maggi, coffees, tea, and
chowmein. Yummmm. My mouth still waters as I am writing this. There was a hint
of rain as we entered her place so the warmth from her stove made things
tastier. I'm sure the smell of woodsmoke is a like a primeval memory for all. It
confuses my mind with images I am not even part of along with some that I was…like
the campfires from childhood camps, our old family cook cooking fish in the
outhouse kitchen in my granny's ancestral house in Kerala during one vacation as we cousins looked on (it
was forbidden to cook meats or eggs in the main kitchen). Water boiling over and
the hissing of the burning wood, a fireplace in Shillong with my dogs and where
lucy always singed her fur by sitting too close, old men crouching over a fire
in winter, cavemen cooking the days
catch…..these memories are always in warm fiery tones and shadows... and with the promise
of food and comfort.
Our stomachs full, we walked
along. The path ahead was flat and we all got a chance to walk together and
gossip. No I'm not sharing that. But it enlivened things up. Dilip passed us by
and Babita quickly changed the topic:)
it’s so strange; across time from my parents to my friends…men always frown at
women gossiping. It’s another matter that men are bigger gossips and exaggerate
truths and also love their exaggerations.
We missed Panchachuli 2 (Arjun
parbat) as it was clouded over and walked on to reach Son village which was our
base camp.
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