How deep is the heart?

As the dragon-heart walks with high head
Brown leaves rustle and the cold wind gasps
Yearning for what they have not -
A steady hand and firm tread
But, how deep is his heart?

He has won over many a friend
With wit like a sparkling stream
That tumbles over every grey slope,
Fearless and inexorable at every bend
But, how deep is the heart?

A preacher he is not, but as doer he carries on,
A warrior stout of heart and true of word
A curious seeker of the secret of life
Yet, a sage when the shadows of ghosts beckon
Tell me, how deep, is his heart?

A beguiling honesty that can crumble stone
Never an ill-word or an unkind act
Captain of his fate, master of his soul
Serene in crowd and tranquil alone
Pray, how deep is the heart?

When the deep rumbling of uncertain thoughts
Can ruffle the smoothest sailing boat,
He is the mast of unwavering strength
He keeps safe the poor quivering lots.
But how deep, really, is his heart?

In the limpid pools of unknown depth
Lie stories untold, secrets drowned
Layers of unspoken joy and sorrow
A tear can draw blood within, it is found.
Indeed, that deep is the heart!

Note: I haven't written poetry in years but I was inspired during one of my recent travels to write this.

Dimapur - fashion capital of the North East

North-east India is home to several tribes, dialects and hard-to-dispel myths along with poor road connectivity which makes it challenging for a traveler to explore and document. But my intent behind travelling in the North-east was not to study any wildlife, geography or tribes but to observe a very different aspect of the North-east namely fashion!

For a long time I have wondered how the fashion sense of the girls from the north-east is so well-honed and hip and it was coincidental that my interest in their fashion origins happened to climax at a time when there was an opportunity to visit this lesser known part of India. I had no particular destination in mind and instead decided to follow my nose much like the proverbial Therouxian traveler who doesn’t know where he is going.

I decided to start at Shillong, which is a three-hour Sumo ride from Guwahati and a pleasant hill-station with scenic excursions to Cherrapunji and Mawlynnlong. While the excursions were enticing in their own way, I didn’t want to digress from my quest and there were enough young girls wearing tight, short skirts and figure-hugging pants to keep me busy. Even girls in school uniforms and managed to look chic in their pleated skirts and pressed jackets! The less said about the shabbily and baggily dressed boys the better, so I decided to focus on the well-groomed girls only. A casual conversation with Shelly who was buying little red berries from a street vendor revealed an interesting fact – that the fashion capital of the North-east is not Shillong, but Dimapur!

With intense curiousity I took the train to Dimapur to learn more about this cultural anomaly. I must admit that I wasn’t disappointed when I saw a pretty girl walking around in a mini-skirt in the railway station at 2am! The waiting room in the railway station was choc-a-bloc with students going home and there was no shortage of willing conversationalists. A few hours of questions, mirth and wise-cracks later, I could formulate my deductions without feeling the need to step out of the railway station.

In my opinion, the reasons for a high style quotient in the North-east are multi-fold – a) Khasi and Naga women are naturally blessed with features and bodies that suits western styles of clothing b) Being predominantly Christian, the society does not frown upon western clothing choices and c) they have easy access to the latest plagiarized styles coming in from China and Japan.

Satisfied with the explanations I left the small town of Dimapur but not before I caught a halter-neck clad teen stepping out of a train into the milling crowd of not-so-trendy porters and travelers.

The Naga way of life

“North-east?! But that’s not safe!,” exclaimed Sumanth in all his infinite wisdom. When I asked him why it was unsafe, he had no clue just as none of my other friends did. To further complicate the situation, I didn’t know a soul in the region so I turned to couchsurfing - a worldwide community of travelers and locals in the places one visits. A quick search led me to Phejin Konyak, a member of the famous head-hunting Konyak tribe of Nagaland and one of the most popular couch-surfers in India. I discovered several news articles and web pages referencing her and all this only made me more curious to meet this intriguing Naga celebrity. So, I shot her a long, descriptive email introducing myself and expressing my eagerness to meet her, thereby assuring that she didn’t have much choice about hosting me in her home in Nagaland!

So, off I flew to Guwahati to meet my first hosts – a charming couple who live in a school campus that ranks among the best in Guwahati. Not only were they the epitome of hospitality but they displayed a delightful zest for meeting travelers and learning about their exploits. Well-travelled and adventurous themselves, (the host was an avid biker who gets his kicks from riding up the Himalayas), they were full of valuable advice for newbie travelers in the North East.

I left Guwahati the next day to catch an overnight train to Nagaland to meet Phejin. The inter-city express leaves Guwahati at 10:30pm and puts you in Simaluguri at 8:00am. I then took a shared auto to Naginimora from where a sumo taxi service was available at noon to Wok Ching. Phejin picked me up from Wok Ching to go to her village Shiyong since there is no public transport available beyond Wok Ching.

Phejin Konyak is the eldest daughter of the chief of the Konyak tribe; a tribe renowned for their head-hunting ways a generation back. She is now a mini celebrity in Nagaland for having hosted Gordon Ramsey and starred in his show called “Great Escapes” – a journey seeking the most exotic recipes in foreign lands. Her family and their signature black-pudding-in-bamboo recipe featured in the show and she has since received much respect and adoration for turning the spotlight on Nagaland.

For me, it wasn’t so much the thrill of meeting a celebrity that drove me towards her village Shiyong, than a desire to meet someone who embodies the strength and grit of Naga women in a society where women form the concealed backbone. She is the first one from her tribe to be educated in an urban setting and hasn’t looked back since. For someone to have lived in cities like Delhi and still have chosen to come back to her village to teach in the local school, it is admiration and emulation worthy. She has been instrumental in sending her younger siblings to far-away towns for education and exposure; in helping break ground for a branch of a renowned school in the village for high school education; in communication with various government organizations about the need to preserve the dying heritage of the tribes; and in maintaining such an air of modesty about her obvious worth that it is downright endearing.

During my stay with her family, I couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly she juggles her day job as a primary school teacher, her responsibility as the spokesperson for her tribe, her duties as the perfect hostess and her role as the first-born in the family and as helper in her family occupation of farming. She engineers her care-free travels to provide the perfect foil and balance for her otherwise frenzied life, it seems.

Amidst walks in her family’s tea estate, she tells me about how some travelers, albeit very few, still lack common sense and courtesies integral to the community of couch surfers. How can you teach someone common sense, she laments. When I asked her whether she feels overwhelmed sometimes with all the responsibilities and dreams of escaping to a foreign land, she said, “Why should I? There is no other place more interesting than India and more peaceful than home in this world.” Well said.

I spent a couple of days with her family, talking with two of her teenage sisters who know a little English but much about boys. My serious attempt to understand the differences between Naga and Mizo features was given a comic twist when one of her sisters promptly said, “It’s very easy – Mizo women have bigger boobs and bottoms”. “But”, she added in the same breath, “Naga men prefer fewer curves”. Thank God for that.

Those were lazy days, lying around watching mist enter the spacious bamboo room on the terrace, flipping through old issues of Lonely Planet and taking walks in the village attempting to photograph local children. Unfortunately, my attempts at photography remained largely unsuccessful because the tribesmen believe that when they get their picture taken, their soul is taken away– perhaps Indian celebrities can take a cue from this belief.

After two days of absorbing the Konyak lifestyle and mingling with the family, I had to bid goodbye to Phejin and her kin but only after extracting a promise from her that she would visit me in Bangalore soon. After all, hospitality is best enjoyed when there is an opportunity for reciprocation.

Now, I am not one of those intrepid, impulsive travelers who leave home with just a map in hand and cash in the pocket. On the contrary, I spend weeks researching a place and planning every detail of a trip so much so that the travel itself becomes predictable sometimes. But this time was different. I went in search of a person instead of a destination and found the journey equally edifying, eye-opening and enjoyable all through.

Walks in Landour

Footloose in Landour

Mussourie – the queen among hill-stations in India, has a well-kept secret: the adjoining town of Landour. Home to well-known authors and literati, it is located around 5km from Mussourie; yet seems a world away from the buzz and shrieks of its more famous sister. Landour is perfect for people looking for the kind of quiet where even a vibrating cell phone seems too loud for the surroundings.

As you traverse the curvy 30km from Dehradun to Mussourie, there are not just arboreal and avian life to admire but also the creative road signs by the Mussourie municipality. Savour this: Trees are poems that Earth writes on the Sky. Doesn’t that make you look at the tall Chinar and the broad-leafed Poplar as works of art? I particularly like the ones that are cheekily inspired by famous lines and yet provide much-needed warning to motorists: The hills are barren, lonely and steep; I have miles to go before I sleep!

My trip to Mussourie stemmed from a desire to meet a friend in Landour who promised me unending vistas of the mountains and innumerable paths to explore. In his words, “You can walk anywhere, everywhere is beautiful!” So it was, as I discovered. I trudged up the path from Mussourie to Landour as the road turned and wound its way through the tourist hubs with restaurants and stores and finally, just hilly slopes and foliage everywhere. The day-hike started near the Doordarshan tower where we took an off-road trail that descended steeply along the hillside. There is no trail head or sign indicating there is a path and that’s just the beauty of Landour – you can find your own unmarked path to explore.

In places, the trail was so narrow that our hiking shoes were more of a burden than an aid but it was amusing to see local women skipping along these trails with just a pair of worn-out slippers. We reached a vista point about one and a half hours into the hike and were spell-bound by the large swathes of heavily forested mountains. Someone mentioned that cutting trees is illegal in Uttarakhand, so the ingenious locals hack down the branches so what we were seeing were literally just tree tops!

The path from Mussourie to Landour offers plenty of lanes for exploration and discovery. One such lane took me past along a winding road to a quaint and oh-so-English cottage called Maple cottage. I half-suspect a wannabe author was living there at that time and penning words while scrapping pages. Everybody knows where Mr. Bond lives – Ruskin Bond that is; the man whose stories we grew up with and who can still make us pine for the hills. I evidently disturbed him from his nap but he was polite enough to ask me if I could come back at a later time. Another highlight is the Oaklands cottage, home of Engineering Ministries International, is perched in an awe-inspiring location where you get grand panaromic views of the Lower western Himalayas up to 200km away on a clear day.

If a growing tree is a sign of a progressive nation, Uttarakhand is surely the most advanced of them all. The wide canopy of Deodar and chir trees provides ample comfort and company to the solitary wanderer. The government of Uttarakhand has made  tremendous efforts to keep Landour clean by way of providing shiny steel dustbins at regular intervals and strongly discouraging the use of plastic (wares are sold in paper bags). They have done a commendable job in preserving the British influence by labeling trees as well as exotic ones with the vernacular and scientific names. It was a revelation that we had a tree called Arjun, with an English name such as “Pride of India”.

A must-see back down in Mussourie, as oft quoted by tourist guides, is the Mall road: the main street where Indians were not allowed during the British raj. Now it is chock-a-bloc with Indians who are exercising their haggling rights and experiencing culinary delights. It is not the Mall road itself that is intriguing but the alleys running off it which promise deeper secrets. Some lead to wondrous vistas while others lead to long-forgotten ruins of buildings, such as the mosque with the sky-blue minarets, which still maintains an air of pride. The red-brick Colonial mansion, now a hotel, near the taxi stand is another impressive piece of architecture. The Clock tower café is another delight for its “rock” get-up and the bustle of literati patrons during meal times. I have never felt as welcome as I did when I walked into the café and “I’ve been waiting for a girl like you” started playing!

Landour is a haven for those who aren’t afraid to get lost: in thought or on their way somewhere. So, bring out those walking shoes and a smile and walk your way up to a weekend of well-deserved solitude. If you are luckier than I am, you could be walking alongside Ruskin Bond on his daily stroll or spot Stephen Alter shopping for vegetables!

The Lonely Planet guide to No. 23 – Swagatha

Orientation

If you can find No. 23 “Swagatha” in Venkatachari Nagar you are a certified genius. There are five such No. 23s in a one square kilometre radius and none of the inhabitants know who lives in the other 23s. So, good luck finding the blue and white house near a big drain that cuts through Dollars colony.

What to bring

You don’t have to get anything at all – just cheer, humour and yourselves are all I’d like to see. I am kidding. Do make sure you get vegetarian food you care to eat. My cook makes only customized food that is sugarless, salt-less….and yeah, tasteless. If you get a treat for my dogs, you are on top my (and his) list of favourite people.

When to go

Any visits and phone calls after the holy hour of 9 pm are strictly discouraged. Winters are an exception. The time limit is 8pm. There is a siesta break on holidays between 2 and 5pm when visitors are not allowed.

Local customs

Shoes need to be left behind at the doorway. If it has rained, they need to be left behind at the gate. Banging shut the mesh door is frowned upon, as is refusing water that’s offered. These offences can easily be overlooked with gifts of dark chocolate (minimum 60% cocoa – sorry, Cadbury’s Bourneville does not qualify).

Health

If you are prone to catch colds, lung infections, stomach bugs, TB or colour TB, I’d advise you to stay away. If you have been vaccinated against rabies you are most welcome since I haven’t vaccinated my dog. Instead I ask everyone else to get vaccinated. You are also expected to wash hands frequently.

Society and culture

No. 23 boasts of a libertarian, left-leaning, right-centric, democratic form of government where my word is the law. That being said, the residents are equally keen to welcome people of all shapes, sizes and colour, as long as they are young and single. Admission of young couples is taken up on a case-by-case basis. Older couples are a strict no-no as they tend to disrespect the sanctity of wild and reckless behaviour. Taboo topics are cooking, marriage, and RSS.

Women travellers

No. 23 is a safe haven for women travellers. The surroundings may not reflect this safety but with five stray dogs around to protect your modesty, why fear?

Dangers and annoyances

The old grandfather from the diagonally opposite house who keeps asking for “madhuve oota” can be dangerously annoying. Strictly to be avoided either by bending to tie shoelaces or sprinting in the opposite direction. You also need to avoid me when there is a Federer match on and he is losing.

Volunteer organizations

There are plenty of volunteer opportunities for people interested in pet therapy. Our pets in the neighbourhood are quite stressed, what with all the pampering and over-eating, and need regular massages to prevent them from getting excited. Volunteer opportunities related to education are many as eager, impoverished children trudge through the gates of No. 23 often looking for tutors and food. I, personally, have spent many hours education them about the importance of sprouts in their daily diet.

Things to see and do

No. 23 provides vast opportunities to see the inner workings of a railway station up close. The stationmaster is a close friend who is ever willing to reply to queries on ticketing and fines. If you charm him, there is even a possibility of a ride in the steam engine of an express train. The extensive network of parks in adjoining Dollars colony is another impressive sight. To see the rich and famous leave behind their SUVs at the park entrance to walk presents a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Why, I spotted the second cousin of the under-secretary to our former Chief Minister, Veerappa Moily once!

Places to eat

No. 23 does boast a wide range of cuisines to tickle your palate. Typical South Indian Iyengar meals from No.1, Kerala meals from No. 15 and Bengali sweets from the first floor of No. 45 have been tried, tested and certified as edible.

Night life

Occasional poker games with a two-week advance notice period have been held in No. 23 till the wee hours of morning. “Howl”arious nights with Seinfeld and Takeshi’s castle are also common when brothers are around.

Wildlife

Periplaneta Americana1, Lacerta agilis2, and Myrmica rubra3 are common and widely photographed here. For a unique experience, just let loose a few dogs in the house and you can enjoy a live viewing of predator vs. prey as they chase down mice.

Sports and outdoor activities

Ultimate frisbee is a hit among the young and old. I tend to hit people until they agree to fling the disc around.

Excursions

Red Volvo buses are available at regular intervals for travelling into the city. A day pass for Rs. 75, can take you all around town in air-conditioned comfort. I would strongly advise getting on to bus no. 201 for a quick tour of the city.

References

1 – Indian cockroach


2 – House lizard


3 – Red ant

Kodachadri on wheels

An ambitious decision to start the New Year early saw me flipping through newspapers at 6 am in search of active travel ideas. Buried in the throng of announcements for exhibitions, concerts and food festivals was a write-up about Tandem Trails’ bicycling trip to Kodachadri in Shimoga district. The promise of a new mode of travel to a hitherto unexplored place with a group of strangers piqued my interest and got my New Year resolution to the perfect start! The 90km ride in the Western Ghats over two days was an attractive dare to my stamina, fitness and my gluteal muscles – how could I back off this challenge?

The name Shimoga refers to Shiv-mukha or the face of Shiva. An alternate etymology suggests Sihi-moge or sweet pot. Regardless of origin, Shimoga is known as the cultural capital of Karnataka – the emphasis on education and cultural activities (Yakshagaana) has brought out some of the best known jewels in Kannada literature in the form of national poet Kuvempu, film-maker Girish Kasaravalli and Padma Bhushan awardee and writer U.R. Ananthamurthy. A higher-than-average rate of literacy among both men and women in the district is indicative of its progressive attitude towards gender equality.

 

Three weeks later we left Bangalore on a nippy Friday evening bundled into a Tempo traveler, which had our bicycles mounted on top. The destination was Simha farms – a homestay in Nittur, located 350km from Bangalore. At 6:30 the next morning I was all but ready to rest my bleary eyes and weary body but the luxury of sleep was to be denied as my metallic black Trek 3700 mountain bicycle beckoned with its heartening/depressing 21-speed gears and inadequately sized saddle - ouch! Tandem trails has cleverly chosen this homestay which is located on a hillock – clever because the initial descent on our bicycles deceives the lungs and the spirit by promising an exhilarating and easy ride.

 

We set off to cover the 50-km stretch that would end in a short trek to a small cascade deep in the forest. The cold air in my lungs thaws out as the illusion of descents disappears quickly but the first 10 km from Nittur to Nagodi village were relatively flat allowing me to appreciate the unraveling landscape. It was easy to forget the kilometers I had ratcheted up and the lactic acid rapidly accumulating in my quadriceps. I cycled past charming villages fragrant with rising wood smoke; little boys and girls skipping merrily to school in checked outfits with a tie missing here and a shoe lace missing there; and secluded wooded thickets whose silence was broken only by the crunch of leaves under the cycle tires.

After a pit stop at Nagodi village, our next halt was at Sulalli – 20 km away. Despite being exhausting, this next stretch offered unobstructed views of hills, dales and paddy fields and a feeling comparable to a runner’s high. The trail was shady and covered for the most part which made riding more enjoyable. At noon I hit the 35km mark and there were still 14 km to go – it was hot and dry and dusty and the Tavera following us was tempting – should I fake a sprain and get a ride for the next 14 km? But the cry of school children running next to me and shouting “Aunty, cycle maadi, cycle maadi” made me drop all intentions of deception. 

The welcome sight of the white building which signaled the end of the ride for the day was enhanced by the aroma of rice and sambar which had been spread out for us under a huge canopy. I collapsed on the mat too tired to even eat. But the tiredness came with a joyous realization that anything from here was only going to be easier!

After lunch the 10 km roundtrip trek in the dense jungle to reach Boodhlagundi falls, cascading from a height of about 100 feet, was a delightful relief for sore saddles and parched throats. This easy trek is flat in most parts with small ascents and descent. Only the last stretch of a few hundred meters involves a steep descent to reach the falls. A dip in the cool water refreshed us enough to be able to trek back and cram into the Tempo travelers and Tavera waiting for us at the road.

At dawn the next day, we were saddled up and ready to ride the 15km to Hasirumakki (backwaters of Sharavathi river) to catch the ferry at 9am. This would put us 35 km from Ikkeri – our destination and home to a 500-year old temple. The narrow, winding roads took us past verdant paddy fields, lily-covered ponds, arecanut trees and traditional homes with their sloping terracotta roofs designed to keep the interiors cool. 

It was an uneventful ride to the launch at Hasirumakki but perhaps to compensate, the arrival of the ferry caused so much confusion (because of the cars that had to get off and on) that only half of us were able to board it with our bicycles while the other half was stranded on the bank. On the other bank, we thought it wiser to continue cycling instead of waiting idly for 15 minutes for the rest to catch up. It was one of those pleasant, leisurely rides that allow us to catch our breath and take in the rustic nature of the surroundings. After all, the toughest day was behind us now!

 






Ikkeri is situated a few km from Sagara but seems so far removed from the bustling town’s affectations that it could well have been a few thousand km away. The pride and joy of Ikkeri is the temple of Aghoreshvara (one of several names for Lord Shiva), built by the Keladi Nayakas. The atmosphere around the temple is undisturbed and quiet unlike typical South Indian temples that clamour with devotees and priests.

A granite gateway forms part of the entrance to the temple complex which is located squat in the middle of a vast court. Once inside the well-maintained complex, a small shrine occupied by a black granite statue of Nandi greets and astounds you with its monolithic size, fine intricacy in carving and glossy finish. Behind the small Nandi shrine lies the main temple building housing the sanctum sanctorum with the Shivalinga. On the side walls are large carvings of other deities like Ganesha and Subrahmanya. There are several pillars carved with the images of other deities but the most amazing feature is that each pillar is carved in a different style.

In the cool silence of the temple, I found the grandeur and majesty imposing and humbling – to think that artisans several hundreds of years back were capable of building this structure without the use of any machinery but as soon as I left the temple complex all my humility evaporated in the hot afternoon sun, and in its place spread a glow of pride. I had ridden 90km and trekked 10km over two days and not a single muscle was complaining!

Dayyara Bugyal and Dodi Tal - a hike in Uttarakhand

To the curious traveller who looks beyond the well-trodden pilgrimage path, Uttarakhand has more to offer than just holy rivers and saffron-clad yogis. We were such atypical travellers seeking peace not through salvation but through solitude. Beyond the veil of prominent temples adorned with brightly coloured flags and the constant din of chants and bells, Uttarakhand offers myriad avenues for trekking, river rafting, and other adventure activities.

In the monsoon month of August we decided to explore a few relatively lesser known spots in Uttarakhand that are accessible only by foot. We arrived in Uttarkashi after a 6-hour drive from Haridwar, weary of the heat in the plains. However, our tanks of enthusiasm and anticipation were soon replenished after we settled into our hotel, facing the turbid Bhagirathi river, and dived into a hearty lunch. We had planned the 5-day trek with Uttarkashi as the starting point and the following route: Barsu – Dayyara bugyal – Gangoroo – Manjhi – Dodi Tal – Agoda – Sangamchatti. The places in bold refer to our overnight camp sites.

Dawn arrived with a crispness that instilled sharp energy in us and we piled into a noisy Sumo to get to Barsu. The ride up to Barsu was jaw-droppingly scenic as sheer slopes dropped down to the roaring Bhagirathi and neat settlements dotted lush green hillsides. Barsu is a small, quiet village whose inhabitants are used to seeing travellers on the move, never stopping there. Our porters had not arrived yet, so this unintended stop gave us time to explore Barsu itself. The village had such a freshly washed vibrancy around that greenery seemed to be growing out of even cement and concrete.

Once the porters were strapped up with luggage for the 5-day trek, we started hiking up a concrete path – apparently built to ease hikers in. We made an imposing group – three trekkers, six porters, two guides and two cooks. A few puzzled Garhwali kids wondered why we were taking such pains to climb hills for pleasure!

Dayyara bugyal:

We had to scale 1200m by the end of the day to reach an altitude of 3200m so it was a steep, uphill walk for most of the day. I could feel my lungs expand as I took in as much mountain air as possible while using up every ounce of oxygen I breathed in. Luckily for us, the hiking path was sheltered from the sun and wind by tall, graceful fir and spruce trees and so we never felt the heat of the day. The earth was moist and fragrant and to prevent slipping we made our own trekking poles out of fallen branches. As the day wore on, the initial euphoria dissipated like the sweat off our backs and we were longing for luxuries such as lunch and rest!

Five hours later, our sweet reward came in the form of the musical tinkle from the bells of mountain buffalo near a magnificent lake called Barnala Tal situated at a height of 2700m. The alpine meadow surrounding the lake is very popular among skiers in winter. We kept our breaks short and photographs few to ensure that we got to Dayyara Bugyal before sunset.

We reached Dayyara after 8km of uphill trekking and we could not have been happier! The bugyal (which means meadow in Hindi) lived up to its name and presented us endless slopes of grassy pastures that were a treat to the eye; unspoiled in their beauty, unknown to most. The feel of fresh, wet grass speckled with tiny yellow, blue, pink, and violet flowers between our toes was as rejuvenating as the first drops of monsoon rain after a hot summer. We missed the peak floral bloom by ten days but this meant that we also missed the crowds.


Traditionally, gujjars (highland nomads) live here during summer to graze livestock on nutrient-rich grass. They also make a small amount of money by renting out huts with mattresses to trekkers. However, since we had our own tents and sleeping bags, we had to forgo the luxury of dry mattresses. Gujjars have practically no access to healthcare in summer when they take to the highlands so, it is a good idea to carry extra medicines such as crocin and painkillers to offer them.

Daybreak was viciously cold with temperatures hovering around -2 deg Celsius, much to our annoyance, but the view of the snow-capped peak of Bandar Poonch and sister peaks drove all our discomfort away. Sun rays skimmed jagged Himalayan peaks and unending ridges with a gentleness and warmth that made our hearts soar. We planned to cross a stream and get to Manjhi  before night fall but as luck would have it, the previous day’s rain made it dangerous to cross the stream. So, we had a relatively easy and shorter trek going 3km uphill and 1.5km downhill on a stony path.

Again, inclement weather prevented us from scaling Bakra top as dense fog covered every inch of it. Just before lunch, we crossed a breath-takingly beautiful mountain pass at 3500m that left us dizzy-eyed and breathless as we peered down. The exhilaration we felt, despite the thin air, carried us all the way to the second campsite at Gangoroo, surrounded by slate-grey rocks. In the distance, the Kaala Nag peak - christened so because it resembles a cobra’s head, stood tall amidst crests of mountains while providing stirring muse to writers and photographers.

The day's short trek allowed us time to make a surprising discovery about the Gujjar families in Ghanghoroo – they are quite well off with each family owning ~50 buffaloes, ~10 horses, and ~30 goats. This, in addition to their excellent stamina and goat-like agility makes them the very picture of wealth and health!

The third day started at 5am and was going to be the longest day of trekking since we had to cover the distance from the previous day. The 6km steep downhill hike was excruciating on our knees and we were actually relieved when we started on an uphill trek for 6km after having crossed the stream. Every turn in the path opened up new vistas with deep valleys covered with copses of oak and fir and towering peaks of snow and stone. The popular route from Sangamchatti takes you directly to Dodital and we caught up with this path 5 km from Dodital. This last section was a flatter route and by 6pm, in fading light, we made it to Dodital triumphant after 17km of cattle-like prodding by our experienced guide!

Dodi Tal:

Dodi tal (“tal” means lake in Hindi) is a high-altitude lake situated at a height of 3045m and 21km from Sangamchatti. The glassy lake is famed for its rainbow trout (fishing is not allowed without prior permission from the forest officer) and is fringed by copses of oak, rhododendron and bhojpatra trees. In the evening sun, Dodi tal was a shimmering jewel bordered by sun-lit reflections of tall firs and the sounds of koklas, babblers, jungle crows, the bells of the Dodital temple and the gurgle of streams provided the perfect accompaniment to the stirring tranquillity. The long day ended on a high note with dessert of curd and fruit salad made with fresh, creamy milk from local buffalo and a dreamless, deep sleep in our warm tent.

The next morning we scaled Darwa top, situated at a height of 3500m. It is a five-hour round-trip trek and the path looks deceptively easy but it’s a steep climb and foggy conditions can hinder your view as you ascend. At times the path is not clear but if you follow the stream called “Hanuman Ganga” you will not get lost. The journey turned out to be more interesting than the destination because the pass was covered with dense fog at the top. So, we couldn’t see the lake down below but the combination of fog, grassy slopes dotted with flowers and grand peaks made it an engaging day-hike.

Home:

Early on the last day, we bid farewell to the haven of Dodi tal and geared up for the 21km back to civilization a.k.a Sangamchatti. The gradual downhill walk was not exerting but the heat was stifling and intense as we got closer to the plains. Soon, the hills faded into the horizon and appeared as mounds of green velvet topped with generous dollops of misty clouds. As we drove back 15km to Uttarkashi, the terraced hills, rows of cement houses and the swollen Bhagirathi welcomed us back with their hushed tones of familiarity and calm.