 Top down: Little Tsering carries her brother on her back in Mudh village; a kid giving me his Facebook ID so that I can send him a friend request, in the Harappa like Nako village; the crumbling Dhankar gompa, amongst the 100 most endangered monuments in the world Nearly 500 km from Chandigarh, deep into the Spiti valley - named after the glittering river that snakes its way in silvery strips down below where the brown barren mountains end; there is a place called Kaza. And that is where I am when I start writing this piece (in my mind) from a home stay called Sakya Lodge. There’s a pleasant chill in the air that is giving me goosebumps and making me reach for my sweater. The snow covered mountains have come so close that it seems as if I can reach out and feel them. I can’t, of course. We writers like to imagine shamelessly. It’s all a little surreal since I'm still reliving the experience of Mudh - a night and a day spent in a tiny village of 192 people, surrounded by pea fields where apple cheeked women work tirelessly, some with babies unstrapped from their backs, cut off from civilization by massive glaciers that have crawled onto the road and happy, in spite of – or maybe - because of it. We have only just reached and while the room is being prepared, I soak in the flutter of the blue and green prayer flags dispelling chants into the air at 11,300 feet and look at the poplar trees where sparrows are chirruping some fascinating bird song. It's been a long time since I saw any sparrows since we have managed to wipe them out of our big city lives completely. A noisy bunch of fellow tourists is playing cards down the corridor. "Ma'am, would you like to see a card trick?" I turn to find a young guy with hair that reminds me of the matted furred hill dogs we have been meeting enroute. I wouldn't. But he opens a deck, and asks me to pick a card and then push it back in. He makes me shuffle them and then pulls one out. "Your card." I give him a disgusted smile. Looking shattered, he waves the card in the air. “Then this is your card”. I gape in disbelief. The card he is holding has shapeshifted into the one I had picked. His face breaks into a “gotcha” grin. Sangram, the 25-year-old travelling magician, who I later discover, is also a singer and an established lawyer, is just one of the fascinating people we meet on our Spiti road trip. As we cross clusters of pink Sia blossoms, frozen streams, melting glaciers and mountains, that are crumbling to pay the price for dams being built; we realize that the pleasure of the journey increases as the other tourists get left behind. Slowly, we wind our way up the brown mountains, overlooking the Spiti river that snakes across the arid land down below glistening in the evening sun. Some of the most interesting people I’ve met in my life are compulsive travelers. Or maybe it works the other way round. In Kaza, we meet Sangram and his travelling photographer friend who regales us with accounts of his cross country tractor trip that took him from Chandigarh to Kanya Kumari. We also make friends with Tsering Bodh, the owner of our home stay, a Delhi University graduate who has renounced big city life and come back to his two horse town to spend the best years of his life. Tsering spends his evenings with his guests who tend to converge post sunset in his dining room cum lounge cum entertainment area. He suggests food – dishes like the spicy meat shaptak; gets those interested a bottle of chang, or even arak – the local drink; manages to find me a picture book on Spiti and its folklore that he has helped author; and when Tanu and I want to shop, even hands us a torch and sends us down a shortcut to the market. When we get back, we appreciatively smell the steaming hot momos and thukpa. Tsering is right where we left him. Around him are scattered a couple of computers with internet; a book rack of fascinating literature, some dining tables and a long sofa. This is where we sprawl late evening listening to Sangram strumming his guitar and belting out romantic Himachali folk songs while sipping chang and setting our tongues on fire with the spicy shaptak. Key The next morning, the six of us - two couples and two pre teens - lug backpacks, mufflers, caps and jackets out of Sakya Lodge and find our way to our taxi – a ramshackle Innova with a complicated seating arrangement – two, plus two, plus three. The kids holler in dismay. They had been promised the back seat with the privacy to play nonstop computer games but now one grown up shall also be sandwiched between them, spoiling their fun completely. Puneet the fight pilot gallantly volunteers to squeeze himself in, his extensive experience of flying cramped Jaguars coming in good stead. The kids grumble in displeasure as he takes out his iPad and gleefully starts giving them classes in spoken German. The rest of us whip out our dark glasses and lean our heads back on our seats letting the scenery distract us completely from the third degree torture going on behind. Surrounded by folds of brown mountains, seven km from Kaza, sits the Key monastery on a rising hill. It rests on it as if carved out of the brown rocks. At 4166 meters the ancient Buddhist monastery is considered one of the largest centers of learning for llamas. We walk up the curved path. It’s old walls are covered with paintings and murals. Established in the 11th century, Key houses a large number of Buddhist monks and nuns and has not just survived earthquakes and a fire; but also attacks by the Mongols, Dogras and Sikhs; all of which have left scars on its walls. The repeated destruction that these invasions and calamities caused led to a lot of rebuilding in Key; and this has resulted in a haphazard growth that makes the monastery look like a heap of matchboxes piled one on top of the other. This adds a fascinating character to it though making it look more like a war scarred fort than a place of worship. The monastery accommodates nearly 250 monks, who reside within the sacred walls in winter, and stay during the summer with their families, mostly working in the fields. We find the young smiling llamas busy preparing for a festival. They offer us some sweet tea and give us a tour of the monastery. Standing at the topmost point of Key we watch the twisted river flowing down below even as swallows dip and float in playful patterns around us, maybe in a bid to impress the fighter pilot, who rams on his dark glasses and struts off to the car, unimpressed. Manoj and I hang around and cheer the birds, trying to make up for his snooty behaviour. Kibber Driving further on we take our dust covered, creaking Innova to Kibber, 18 km from Kaza. Located at a height of 4205 m, Kibber used to be the highest inhabited village in the world with its own polling station during elections, but now it has lost out to Komic, where we plan to go the next day. It has however not lost any of its allure. Parking a little beyond the village, we climb out of the car even as the wind howls threats in our ears. We soak in the ethereal beauty of the cluster of huts scattered before us, typical small Tibetan box houses which are best suited for earthquake prone areas. Whitewashed and glowing softly in the dusk, the flat roofed houses are piled up with twigs and dried branches that lend them a fascinating architectural ambience. The branches serve as both cushion and insulation in the cold winter months when snow falls. For the villagers, agriculture is the main source of livelihood. Mostly they grow potatoes. Home stays are available in Kibber and the tiny village is perfect for those who want to go far away from all things, all sounds urban and live in silence feeling the cold mountain air on their face while watching yaks meditate and prayer flags flutter in the breeze. Komic The next day we drive to Komic. The attractions are: a population of just about 100, crystal clear air that zips right down to your lungs, the fame of now being the highest inhabited village in the world at 4,550 metres; and above all this, the fascinating journey. To reach there we have to cross the Sea of Tethys or where it must have raged once upon a time. As the car climbs further up, we cross a herd of Blue sheep who continue to graze nonchalantly, completely ignoring our presence. Spiti is a living museum for geologists and is known as the ‘Fossil Park of the World’. Remnants of the ancient Sea of Tethys can still be seen in the Spiti valley, which is regarded as the most fossil rich area in the world. Tsering has already told us that we can hunt for garnate rocks there and the kids are planning to make a big fortune by selling those. The windswept heights scare some of the travelers (read Tanu) who refuses to budge from the warmed interiors of the car while the rest of us make a quick trip to the quaint monastery with our teeth clattering in the cold and run right back. We frantically recall the driver who is sipping hot tea standing with the locals, fearlessly gossiping in the chill. Smiling at our plight; he downs it in one last long sip and comes back to rescue us from death by freezing. Langza On our way back to Kaza we cross Langza, where just about 20 huts sit on a hillside. Laid out in front are some sparkling green fields where the farmers have grown peas. A farmer is ploughing his fields using a pair of slow lumbering why-are-you-making-us-work Yaks. A towering statue of the seated Buddha is keeping meditative watch from the top of the hill. We step out of the car for a few minutes, the wind is cold and unforgiving here too. Wrapping our mufflers tighter around our necks we jump back in and head for the comfort of our home stay fantasizing about hot thukpa and momos. Dhankar gompa One of the most unforgettable sights of Spiti is the first view of Dhankar gompa. Sitting on a barren mountain, it almost appears to be a part of its crumbling façade - fragile and precariously balanced; as if it has been carved out of the rocks. A notice tells us that the monastery is under threat of collapse and we are going in at our own risk. Two lamas live there. As the narrow mud track turns and leads to the monastery it seems as if we are stepping into a dream. Situated at an elevation of 3,894 meters, the gompa is spectacularly positioned on a 1000 foot high spur overlooking the confluence of the Pin and the Spiti rivers. Dhang means cliff, and kar or khar means fort hence Dhankar means fort on a cliff. Local history says that Dhankar was the traditional capital of the Spiti kingdom during the 17th century and has some features dating back to the 12th century. The crumbling gompa is one of the 100 most endangered monuments in this world and restoration work is underway. Those who dare to climb up its dark narrow stairs despite safety warnings (Puneet and Manoj) can see that the statue of Vairochana which shows four complete figures of Buddha seated back to back. Those who don't do photoshoots on the steps leading up to it. Spiti has many others attractions. Nako, the exotic village that has come up around an etherally beautiful lake, and Tabo, where an ancient monastery has grown roots and mingled with the lives of the people who live in and around it, are two more places that we visit in Spiti that leave us with a lifetime of beautiful memories. Eventually, the holiday is over and we reluctantly make our way back to more populated Himachal where weekend travelers are crowding the hills of Shimla. Vehicles are parked on the roads in unending rows and what must have been beautiful green slopes at one time are now coated with an ugly mass of cement – hotels, resorts, shops, guest houses et al. Shimla is being suffocated to death and my plea to you dear reader is don’t go there and make it worse for her. We pick up boxes of cherries from the roadside and drive back into the heat of Chandigarh where we go straight to the railway station and find our way to the train. I sit in the Shatabdi Express chair car staring at the lukewarm cup of tea and samosa staring back at me for some time and then close my eyes to both. In my mind, I have returned to the Spiti valley where the sparrows chirp and fill the air with the crisp flutter of their wings, where the mountain rivers - the Sutlej, the Pin, the Spiti - languidly trail their own paths and the cold wind whispers to the barren hills. Gentle conversations in Tibetan carried by the breeze all the way from Kaza bazaar waft around me even as I sit with my feet tucked under me on that uncomfortable AC chair car. Just a day back, about 500 km away from me, the barren mountain brown and gravelly, had intercepted the sun which rose despite everything and warmed my back with its pale yellow early morning rays. Fondly, I remember how I had sat on a chair pulled into the lawn, when i had first started writing this piece in my mind; listening to the songs the sparrows had left unfinished. Spiti, I shall see you again one day soon, I promise myself. Those songs need to be completed in my ear. Stay options: Kaza: Sakya Abode; cell: 9418556213; Rs 3500 for couple, meals included; Kibber: Thiely Home Stay; cell: 9418841713; Rs 600 per person, meals included; Langza: Tanzin Home Stay; 01906-200363; Rs 600 per person, meals included; Komic: Kunga Home Stay; 01906-200050; Rs 600 per person, meals included. For bookings and travel arrangements contact Lara Tsering at Spiti Valley Tours; 9418537689 This piece will appear in the Discover India, October issue Pictures: Manoj Rawat |
Komic: One of the highest inhabited villages in the world
A little girl waits for her mother to finish working in the pea fields at Mudh
View from the top of Key gompa
Children climbing up to the village from down below where the glacier meets the river at Mudh
Nako
Brothers going to school in Tabo village which has come up around an old monastery
Photographer trying to please his subjects
Sia blossoms, the only spurt of colour you see in the Spiti valley, besides the prayer flags and the beads the women wear. Siachen the glacier is named after them.
Prayer flags that depict the four colours of nature: White for air, blue for water, red for the earth and yellow for sunlight
Satellite TV has reached villages that tourists still haven't
Masks on sale outside Tabo monastery
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