Tired from the previous day’s trek, I slept late into the morning, lying awake in bed even after waking up, listening to the sounds of nature in a village inaccessible by road. The birds chirping in the trees and the pet dog’s occasional bark from downstairs gave way to the pattering of raindrops on the rooftop as a light drizzle began. The already chilly morning became even colder with the rain. I snuggled deeper down into my blanket, and only climbed out of my cozy nest an hour later when I heard voices from outside.
 |
| Gracious Hosts |
I stepped out onto the Verandah and was greeted by Amit from Bombay who was a frequent tourist of this village and Luigi, the Israeli drummer from the previous day at the Jewish House. They had just ordered breakfast, and joining them, I too ordered an aloo paratha. While waiting for it, I was witness to a fascinating conversation between the two of them about the effects of smoking up on the mind. Amit was of the opinion that the petty issues of the world were filtered out, and one saw the things that actually mattered with greater clarity.
 |
| Foothills of the Himalayas- Imposing in Themselves |
One of the topics that arose was the age old saying taught to all of us, “Make money and manage time”. Amit explained that he had realized when once in an elevated state, that what a person really should do was to “Make time and manage money”. It made perfect sense. In fact, it reminded me of the conversation I had had with Tenzing the monk on the bus ride from Shimla to Manali. Worldly possessions were temporary in nature, and that included money. At the same time, the only thing that was steadily and surely slipping away from all of us was time, however hard we tried to prevent it. Every day should be made to count and we must put an end to the habit of procrastination. We must live in the present and in such a manner that we should not have to look back one day and feel ‘I could have done something more’. One of my favourite Latin quotes ‘Carpe Diem’ or ‘Seize the Day’ comes to mind.
The conversation went on to touch upon several such grey areas of the human mind, usually untouched in the mind of the hustle-bustler trying to ‘manage time’. It set me thinking on may simultaneous trains of thought regarding the complex yet simple, mundane yet extraordinary art of living.
All this while I was waiting for the persistent drizzle to let up a bit so that I could get a window to take the treacherous trail down the muddy slope from the village of Kalga atop the hill to the bus stand down in the town of Barsheini, half an hour’s walk away.
 |
| Barsheini Valley - Shrouded in Rain |
Another hour passed and still the rain persisted. Wanting to visit Tenzing at the monastery in Bhuntar before I boarded the bus at 9 p.m, I decided that I could not afford to wait any longer. Wrapping my rucksack in its waterproof cover and donning my raincoat as well, I bade farewell to Amit and Luigi, cleared the bill and set out in the rain. The moment I set foot in the slush wearing my shoes, I realized it was a bad idea. Stepping back inside, I unpacked my bag and exchanged the shoes and socks for rubber sandals before stepping out once again. Though the freezing puddles nearly numbed my toes, the thought of having a dry pair of socks and shoes to change into later kept me going. The mud trail down the hill from the village had become a treacherous one with the continuous rain. Cautiously, I made my way down the slope, often having to use both my hands as well to negotiate several slippery points along the way. I managed to reach the bottom without any scrapes and bruises, washed my hands in a puddle of rain water and set out towards the town of Barsheini.
 |
| Gracious Host - Vikramji Sharma |
The mountains looked ominously stupendous, shrouded in an envelope of fog – something a sudden urge compelled me to click a photograph of. However, to prevent wetting my camera, I descended a short flight of steps to a little covered shed. Clicking the photograph, I got talking to the man who lived in the single room there. His name was Vikramji Sharma, and was an ex-serviceman from the Indian Army. Delighted to meet another soldier, I introduced myself. He too was overjoyed and insisted that I had lunch with him.
 |
| A Blessing in the Freezing Cold |
I set my rucksack down and sat with him in the tiny room, talking about various things, while he cooked rice and dal on an electric stove. An enormous helping of rice and dal was served, accompanied by a triple large shot of some deadly home concocted alcohol that probably would have knocked me out had I not poured half of it into his glass on the pretext of the long journey that lay ahead. Anyway, a happy meal and much talk later, I thanked him and continued in to the bus stand.
 |
| Boulders Scattered in Frothy Rivers |
The bus was filled to the brim with noisy kids on a trekking trip and I somehow managed to squeeze both my rucksack and myself into the melee. The next one and a half hours was a literal pain in the ear as the kids did not stop screaming song after song, instigating one another on. The almost non-existent road did not help either as the bus leapt from pothole to pothole. Thankfully, just as I was nearing my tolerance point, we arrived at Kasaul where the kids got off. The rest of the journey was peaceful and uneventful and we arrived at Bhuntar by 5:30 p.m.
 |
| Washed in the Rain - Monastery at Bhuntar |
As I had three hours to spare before I had to board the bus for Dharamsala, I decided to meet Tenzing at the monastery. I took a rickshaw up the hill to the Advanced Buddhist Learning Centre, as it was called. Asking the driver to wait, I ventured inside and asked a few monks about Tenzing. I waited as they asked around and enquired about his whereabouts. Finally I was told that he had gone down to the market to buy provisions for dinner, and would be gone awhile. I decided not to wait for fear of missing the bus, and returned in the same rickshaw. On the way back, we passed the Kullu Manali airstrip on the banks of the mighty river Beas.
 |
| Spectacular Views around every Corner |
After roaming around for a while, I walked into a restaurant and had a bite to eat, then settled down to write about the events of the day. At 8:30 p.m, I made my way to the travel office where I met Fernanda from Chile and Natalia from Spain who were also waiting to board the same bus. We talked about our countries and a short while later boarded the bus to Dharamsala. My rucksack was loaded on top of the bus and we departed Bhuntar. The journey wasn’t a very comfortable one because of the old Tibetan gentlemen sitting next to me who kept elbowing me in his sleep all night long.
No comments:
Post a Comment