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Chronicle of Harsil Valley - Part 3 - Gartang Gali and What Lies Beneath

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 The day when CP and his wife went to hike to Llama top, I had decided to visit Gartang Gali. A trek used in earlier times to trade between India and Tibet. The highlight of this trek was the end, where golden wooden stairs (around 50) end the Indian side and from where the Tibetan side begins. I started for Gartang Gali at around 11 AM, and CP had already left by then. Ishan's mother said that CP and his wife ate separately in the morning. She was happy to see that, although I did not understand why. Before leaving, I asked Ishan whether I would be able to reach Gartang Gali or not. This was because there are no petrol pumps in Harshil. The last petrol pump one will see is in Uttarkashi, around 60-80 km away. My car showed that it can run 270 km, but these readings are never accurate. I had to calculate the distances beforehand. Additionally, once you are outside Harshil, there are no networks. I had to reach Gartang Gali from Harshil Valley the old-school way, remembering the rou...
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Chronicle of Harsil Valley - Part 2 - A Homestay, A Rating, and A Cold Night

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 When I arrived at Ishan's house, he already had a booking for 2 days from someone called "CP" starting from the next day. When I asked him to get me a heater, he gave me a hot air fan, which is not that great in temperatures dipping below negative. I saw him using a much bigger heater in his room, and I was confused as to why he did not provide me with that. Later that night, after dinner, we were sitting on the porch looking down at the Harsil valley and Mukhwa village, on which lights were shimmering in perfect sync. "Somebody is putting up a tent there, look!" said Ishan, pointing towards a gap between two mountains. I looked at the place he pointed and could only see a single light there, like a bulb. "How do you know that?" I asked him. "There's nothing there. Somebody has put up the tent, that's why a light is there. I wonder how they will spend the night. It would be so exciting." I saw his eyes shining while he spoke and cont...
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Hell and Heaven? - A Mule Story

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 Can you hear the sound of my breath? I am panting. Why? I am walking on a stone-paved trek that goes to Kedarnath Dham. It is not an easy trek, especially when you have weight on you. The cold wind seems to help a lot, but I have a trick. I do not see in the front. I always look down towards the road. This way, I don't know how steep the climb is in front of me. It helps more than you think. The person you see with me, I have named him Saarthi, because he tries to show me the path. I do not need his help. I have climbed up and down this trek more than 5000 times in the past 7 years. I know you are amazed to know my stamina, but everyone says that I am born for this.  I am born to bear the weight of humans on a steep trek to the God whose one of the names is "Caretaker of Animals". I am a mule. An innocent and young mule. Everybody says that I am lucky I don't have to fight for survival every day in the jungles. I do not feel so. Saarthi keeps me company, and I love t...
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Chronicle of Harsil Valley - Part 1 - Apple Orchards, Forest Trails, and a Very Large Dog

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In November, I decided to visit Harsil Valley. A picturesque valley with snow-peaked mountains and the last settled village on the way to the Gangotri Dham. It had long been my wish to visit Harsil, and at a time when the water is blue and the wind is cold. Fortunately, November weather matches my conditions perfectly. I booked a homestay with Ishan, whose first line read, "Atop a small 1.5 km hike is our home with beautiful Apple orchards." When I enquired with him before booking, he was quick to tell me that the homestay is not in the valley, but we have to hike a bit to get there. "Although the view from my home is great," he said after mentioning the hike. Hiking wasn't a problem, and I could easily sacrifice my legs for the views in Harsil Valley.  My trip to the Harsil valley started with multiple U-turns, thanks to Ishan, who was confused and did not know the signs on the way. "I am at the signboard that says, Welcome to Bagori village", I said,...
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A Pigeon On The Balcony

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An adult, grey, and beautiful pigeon sits on a balcony visible from my room. The balcony is one floor higher than mine, whose shorter side faces my balcony. I sit and work close to my balcony, inside my room, where my desk and chair are greeted with solid sunshine each morning. While I pay rent to stay in my room, pigeons live rent-free here. I see them all day, from my chair, flying in all directions, drinking water from the swimming pool, and diving from the terrace straight towards the ground. Now that so many days have passed, I inadvertently ignore them as they have become a part of my daily life. For more than a year, the balcony on the upper floor, which I mentioned above, has not been lonely. I say lonely because I have never seen any human on that balcony. Just some ropes and a pipe stay there, lonely and forgotten by their masters. The balcony doesn't speak to me, else I would have given her company every day. We are too close to hear each other, even if we talk in a norm...
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Da Nang - Beaches, Typhoon, and Two Hungry Guys

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 On my trip to Vietnam , I visited Ho Chi Minh City and then flew to Da Nang, which lies in the center of Vietnam. Da Nang had been in the news for the last ten days. It faced one of the most severe typhoons in Vietnam, 1 week before Sudhanshu and I were about to arrive. As soon as we walked out of the Da Nang airport, signs of the damage were clearly visible. For a change, the only joyous thing we see is the hundreds of children dressed in their school uniform, white shirt and red checked shorts, not more than 5 years old, walking in a straight line outside. Their teachers are with them, and just like any other school teacher, they, too, are shouting, and these children are responding. We do not understand their language, but it sucks to be in line on the road and walk towards one of the most beautiful beaches in the country. A long pole with the Vietnam flag is facing me, which has survived the typhoon somehow. But there is a bitter silence in the city that both of us can feel. I...
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Society, Class, and The People Within

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The division of our society is explicitly visible in the products people living within it make. A train comes with coaches divided into upper-class air-conditioned private coaches to lower-class messy and sweaty ones where people rely on air from the door and windows. This means if the train is not moving, its "AC" is not working. Buses follow a similar pattern where there are air-conditioned, high-tech Volvo buses which are often looked upon by people sitting in a lower-grade bus with hopes and desires, and often followed by abuses such as "rich brats". These lower-class buses are termed "ordinary" in the government booking portal, glorifying the fact that you cannot expect something lavish here, or to just portray that the other bus is "extraordinary". Maybe "ordinary" is an alias used for a bus but signifying the current societal status of the people sitting in it. I become "ordinary" when I sit in an "ordinary" b...
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