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A Tale of Two Valleys: Kinnaur and Sangla

Part-1: Kinnaur Valley

Diwali this year afforded us with a very long weekend, and off we (my friend Abhijit, his friend Amiya, and I) set for Kinnaur Valley. We had booked overnight bus tickets till Shimla, and as the bus ascended the sharp turns with each passing minute, it was overtaken by a contagious wave of nausea. Even those who held their fort tight till the very end, had to give in – spurred by bouts of throwing up all around – to throwing up themselves.

After a quick breakfast in Shimla, we hopped on to a state transport bus, even as a 12-hour journey remained before us. Accompanied by Pahadi Nati songs (of which the most memorable one was ‘Teri Paronthi Laga Radio‘), we finally reached Rampur-Busahr at 3PM, and soon got ourselves a room alongside the Satluj river. After a quick lunch, we stepped out to check out a Buddhist temple, the Rampur-Busahr bridge across the Satluj, and then, the King’s palace, where public access was allowed only till the lawns.

A monastery in Rampur-Bushahr, overlooking the Satluj

It was Diwali after all, and so atop the hotel’s terrace, we looked in awe at the night sky, as the twinkling stars became indistinguishable from the showers emanating out of exploding fireworks. The mountain on the other side of the river looked as if it wore chains upon chains of sparkling diamonds. The temperature dropped to below 5 deg. C.

The next morning at 9am, we took a Himachal State Transport bus to Rekong Peo which was the gateway to the Kinnaur Valley. We hurtled alongside the Satluj for the longest time, with the mountains flanking us on both sides, treated to images of waterfalls streaking across the ridges on the opposite mountainside and the numerous hydro-projects. Before soon, we had passed through the famous hoop-like rock tunnel marking our entry to the Kinnaur Valley.

Shortly, we reached Karcham, the point where the Baspa river met the Satluj, and the road diverged, with one branch leading to Rekong Peo and further to Kaza, and the other leading to the Sangla Valley, where the well-regarded village of Chitkul, touted as the last Indian village, is situated. At this point, the snow-capped Kinnaur Kailash was already visible, standing there as if a stone’s throw away, but still unreachable even as we kept windingly moving in its direction.

Reaching Rekong Peo around 2 PM, our first step was to hail a lift from a personal vehicle going towards Kalpa, which is accessible by a 7km drive diverging from the road to Kaza. Getting down at Kalpa, we were immediately struck by the shining peak of the Kinnaur Kailash, which now seemed like a touching distance away. It being the shoulder season, we checked in at a throwaway price into a fascinating hotel in the form of a standalone Himachal-style bungalow located in the village centre, and chose a room with a clear view of the Kinnaur Kailash.

After a quick meal of thukpa at a roadside diner, we walked down the slope to the Kalpa monastery and the Chandika Devi temple. Exiting from there, we stopped to have tea at a homestay run by a 70-year old lady, who offered to make us a hot mutton curry dinner that night for a price. With the cold setting in, the prospect of hot piping food was enticing enough that we paid up the advance, and left for some further sight-seeing… or to put more precisely, aimless wandering.

The Chandika Devi temple with the Kinnaur Kailash in the backdrop

That’s when a local villager offered us a ride to Roghi. Little did we know that we would be subjected to one of the most dangerous roads that I have come across in my whole life: in fact, the Kalpa-Roghi road is cited to be one of the most dangerous roads in all of Asia! The road was as narrow as they came – suitable for barely two small car to pass through – with a vertical wall on one side, and a 500-feet vertical drop on the other, supplemented by a general dose of blind curves.

On the dreaded Kalpa-Roghi road, looking at the Kinnaur Kailash

We stopped at the famous ‘suicide-point’ on a platform jutting outwards into the Valley. The view of the Satluj lying as a shining silver ribbon several feet below, and the road winding around the corners on two opposite ends, with the Kinnaur Kailash standing like an imposing guard overlooking the whole set-up, was breath-taking. The villager took us to Roghi, and dropped us back at Kalpa, after which we explored the Apple orchards on foot, to while away time till dinner was readied by the old lady. The dinner, as it turned out, was delicious.

Walk through the Apple orchards of Kalpa

Part 2: Sangla Valley

The following morning, we were were stuck by decision paralysis – Abhijit wanted to see Chitkul which was quite a detour, while Amiya was keen to just return to Delhi. The quibbling went past 9 AM, the scheduled time of the sole morning bus to Chitkul, and it was time for me to adjudicate. My verdict: we would see Chitkul and leave for Delhi the same day.

Abhijit and Amiya looked at me incredulously, given there would be no public transport to Chitkul until later that evening. I told them I didn’t know how we would would do it, but there would be only one way to find out: we would get down at the fork in Karcham, where the road to Sangla Valley emanated – the point the River Baspa met the Satluj – and try our luck.

So checking out at 10AM, we hitched, yet another ride, down to Rekong Peo, and caught a bus headed to Rampur-Bushahr; got down at the fork in Karcham, as planned; and waited for a lift. Amiya was still sceptical – he would rather he was headed to Delhi – and Abhijit just sat there in quiet anticipation. After a couple of vehicles ignored our hailing sign, we were pleasantly surprised to find a middle-aged couple stop to give us a lift in their Alto. Stashing our luggage in the boot, the three of us squeezed ourselves into the rear row, and soon found ourselves negotiating another death-defying road.

At 11.30, the couple dropped us at the Sangla bus depot, where, upon a quick inquiry, we learnt that there was a bus to Chandigarh at 3.30 PM. So, we had 3 hours in hand to make a trip to Chitkul and back if we wanted to be on our way to Delhi the same day. With no public transport in sight, and the reliance on hitchhiking seeming undependable given the time constraints, hiring a cab seemed to be the only resort. Thus, following yet another round of disagreement, this one involving the budget, we bit the bullet, and hired a cab for Rs. 2000.

Soon, we were headed to Chitkul – with the road seeming less dangerous, since the Baspa Valley in this stretch is not very deep – marvelling at the sight of glaciers flowing down the mountainside into the River Baspa. We encountered a cute-looking waterfall on a stream with a bridge on which only 1 vehicle could pass at a time. The tarmac soon gave way to an unpaved road, even as the mountains on our side of the river soon turned brown with no vegetation, with their peaks topped with snow.

By 12.30, we were at Chitkul village, and we promptly trekked down to the bank of the Baspa, on the other side of which lay a cover of snow. Crossing the bridge over the Baspa, we were soon wading in the snow. There’s something about snow that awakens the child inside of man, and we were not immune to the same, evident from how we soon got down to making snow mortar and throwing them at each other. A pint-sized snowman followed soon after.

But we had to be mindful of the time, so at around 1.30 PM, we clambered back on to the main road, had a quick lunch at a roadside eatery, and headed back to Sangla. At Sangla, we hopped onto the ordinary (non Air-conditioned) state transport bus as soon it arrived, and managed to get ourselves window seats, keeping in mind the long journey ahead. The joy of managing to get those seats, however, was tempered by the vomit stains on the window frame, and on the inner side of the bus’s wall, and on the floor…meaning, leaning against the bus’s wall was not an option.

Desertified mountain on one side of the valley

The bus started at its own sweet time, at around 5, and soon we were traversing the treacherous stretch of the road, with our seats located on the side of the bus facing the deep, deep valley below, and only a hair’s width separating us from the edge of the cliff. Luckily, as it was getting dark – and darkness falls rather quickly on the high mountains – we were spared the scary views of the bottom of the valley from our window seats.

After a dinner stop somewhere near Rampur-Bushahr, we fell asleep, waking up only once the higher temperatures of Punjab lashed at our faces. At Chandigarh the next morning, following a quick freshening up, we caught another state transport bus to Delhi. Amiya seemed exhausted by now, and could not wait to be back home, but Abhijit and I were not helping matters, as we ribbed him by humming the tune of ‘Teri Paronthi Laga Radio‘. Thankfully for Amiya, his misery ended at 2 PM when we finally reached Delhi.

A Hike Through History at Hampi

With just three weeks remaining for my post-graduate course in Hyderabad to complete, I decided to head for a quick weekend trip to a place that had been on my bucket list for a long time – Hampi. So, I took an overnight bus from Hyderabad and was in Hampi by 8.30 AM. After checking in at Clark’s Inn, I went about hiking around Hampi – the capital of the legendary Vijayanagara empire – taking a walk through the annals of history.

Hampi is identified with Kiskindhya of the Ramayana, where Bali and Sugriva, the vanara brothers lived. Anjanadri Hill near Hampi is believed by locals to be the birthplace of Hanuman. Hampi is also called as Pampakshetra because of Pampa, an old name for the Tungabhadra River, which runs through the area. Hampi is also said to be the village of Pampa Devi, another name of goddess Parvati, Shiva’s wife. Another explanation is that Hampi became a place where five faces of Shiva (Paramesvarasya Panchamukhnam), namely, Virupaksha, Jambunatha, Somesvara, Vanibhadresvara and Kinnaresvara, began to be worshipped in the form of Panchalingas (five lingas).

Highlights of the trip are below:

Day 1

Vitthala Temple and Market complex

The 15th century temple, construction of which was started by Devaraya II and continued during the reign of Krishnadevaraya and later kings, is famous of the musical pillars and the stone chariot placed in front of the main temple structure. The carvings and sculptures on the temple and all structures around it, is a testament to the high workmanship achieved by the artists of Hampi.The long straight boulevard leading to the temple complex is flanked on both sides by long continuous lintels supported by a series of pillars – these structures once contained shops. Behind one of the shopping arcade is a pond.

The boulevard cutting through the Market complex enroute Vitthala temple

The Royal Enclosure

The Royal Enclosure is the area where the royal family lived and administerefdfrom. The major highlights of the area include a stepped tank called the Pushakarini Kola, a platform for conducting ceremonies called the Mahanavami Dibba, an ornate bath complex called the Queen’s bath, a hall purported to be for the King’s public audience, and a labyrinthine building with secret underground chambers. A little farther from the above mentioned structures are a structure of unknown antiquity and purpose called the Lotus Mahal that employs an Indo-Islamic style of architecture, and the elephant stables.

The stepped well, called Pushkarini Kola

A series of notable temples/shrines

Further on the trail, were a series of temples and shrines, namely,
Madhaba (Ranga) temple, temple built in 1545 AD exclusively for holding concerts of dance, vocal and instrumental music;
Shri Lakshmi Narsimha temple, built in 1528 AD, houses a fearsome monolithic 6.7 meter statue of Lord Narasimha;
Shree Badavilinga Gudi – a near-3 meter high shivlinga, whose lower part remains in water drawn from the Tungabhadra river, throughout the year;
Krishnawamy temple, an ornate temple built by Krishnadevaraya in 1513 AD, with a Balakrishna image sourced from Odisha;
Saasivekaalu Ganesha a 2.4 meter 16th century monolithic four-armed idol of Lord Ganesha

Hemakuta Group of Monuments

Walking a little further up the Ganesha idol, there is a bald hillock, upon which stands a cluster of temples – about 30 in number – of varying shapes and sizes, and datable between 9th and 16th century AD. Legend says Shiva was meditating on the Hemakuta hillock at the time the gods wanted Parvati to marry Shiva, and sent Manmatha, the god of love, to distract him. Infuriated, Shiva opened his third eye, thereby burning down Manmatha, and also melting down stones and boulders causing them to collected as pool called the Manmatha Honda at the foothills. Hemakuta hill affords a nice view of the sunset as well as of the Virupaksha temple and the Tungabhadra river.

Virupaksha temple complex

Descending the hillock from the other side, one reaches the Virupaksha temple that was expanded into its current imposing form in the first half of the 16th century. Standing on the bank of the Tungabhadra river, the temple complex has two large courtyards with numerous subsidiary shrines. The humongous main sanctum houses Virupaksha, a benign form of Shiva shorn of anger, the tutelary deity of the Vijanagara kings. The temple is most sacred of all sites in Hampi, and puja rituals are unfailingly performed in accordance with norms laid down by sage Sri Vidyaranya, beginning with drawing water from the Tungabhdara, considered equivalent to the holy Ganga.

Matanga Hill

Finally, to close off the day, I hiked up the Matanga Hill, stopping many times to catch my breath before being treated from the hilltop to a breath-taking view of the sun setting with the crimson sky in the backdrop.

Day 2

Virupapuragade or Hippie Island

The next morning, I went back near the Virupaksha temple complex, since adjacent to the temple complex lay the Ferry Point, that facilitates transport to Virupapuragade, a granite outcrop in on the Tungabhadra river. It acquired the nickname Hippie Island on account of providing an atmosphere for relaxation by virtue of the many shacks and cafes serving all sorts of cuisine accompanied by music, both live and recorded, and also abounds in shops selling souvenirs. This is also where one could rent scooters and bikes, which is what I did.

Thankfully, the channel separating the island from the other bank of the Tungabhadra, is shallow or virtually, non-existent, and the low connecting road runs parallel to an ancient aqueduct that now lies in ruins.

Ancient aqueduct on the other side of Hippie Island

Sanapur Lake

On the rented scooter, I proceeded to Sanapur Lake, about 5 km north-east of Hippie Island, on a road winding through paddy fields and barren hills, until I reached a bend that curved around a boulder hill and took me across a dam to a coracle point.

After a peaceful coracle ride, as I was setting off for my next stop, the scooter refused to budge. Despite the spotty mobile network, I somehow managed to call the rent-a-bike shop-owner, and thankfully, got a replacement scooter, delivered to me within 30 minutes.

Anegundi

Racing against time, I rode, again flanked by barren boulder hills, paddy fields and water bodies, 8 km alongside the Tungabhadra river to Anegundi, where a hike up the hill leads to the Anegundi fort. Entering the fort premises, after a short hike, is a cave that legend identifies as the place where the vanara king Bali lived. Further hiking up, I reached the top of the fort, wherefrom I got a panoramic view of the countryside replete with boulder-hills, paddy fields, and the boulder-strewn Tungabhadra.

By 2 PM, back on Hippie Island, I returned the scooter, and following a lunch, I boarded a 4PM bus for Hyderabad, with the hope that I would return to Hampi someday.

An Evening with MLTR in Kathmandu – Concert Report

It was a cold November evening in Kathmandu, when a charismatic and heavily husky-voiced Nepali pop-cum-rock star, Sabin Rai, finally sang his last song to hand over control to the Masters-of-Ceremony Prosen and Malvika once again. And this time, the duo duly looked over the ushering in of a blue ambience, with the image of a revolving globe on the background screen and the Mikkel Lentz-produced ‘Eternity‘ theme slowly gathering steam. Then amidst the smoke, even as the ‘Salvation’ tune played, appeared the four Viking guys one after the other. Mikkel, clad in a dark brown suit, waved to the crowd, while Kare settled behind his drum-kit and Jascha in a white suit took position at his keyboard, wearing red coloured glasses, probably, a throwback to the good old days of Colours and Played On Pepper. MLTR launched immediately into (this time) the full-blown intro of ‘Salvation‘.

Initially, it felt like the sound was a little weak – either Jascha could not hear the other instruments properly or the surround was not effective, but to me it just felt like something was amiss, a little out of tune (Interestingly, when I listen to the videos on youtube, everything seems perfectly alright, which is a good thing!). When Salvation had been done and dusted with, Jascha said, “The next song is for the child…inside of every man.”, and ‘Sleeping Child‘ commenced accompanied by a very very loud cheer. The sound, according to me, was still a little shaky. This time though, the crowd, which had been mostly oblivious to the lyrics of Salvation, suddenly found its feet, crooning away with Jascha, even when the sound system totally misbehaved and blanked Jascha’s vocals for a line or two.

At the end of it, Jascha said, “It’s really amazing… to travel so far away to Nepal. You really, guys, know all our lyrics and our songs. That’s fantastic.” ‘Love Will Never Lie‘ was on next, and during the second verse Jascha was clearly displeased with the sound, making an animated gesture to the sound guy, and when the second verse had been sung, it all started to seem to be alright, at least that’s what Jascha’s thumbs-up to the sound engineer and the increased volume of Jascha’s vocals would have signified. Jascha played a flowing piano section in the end, by which my friend Rajiv was completely enamoured and had tears in his eyes. They proceeded to play ‘It’s Only Love‘ at the end of which Jascha said, “This is a song which we don’t play often. we have just started playing it in the last few concerts.”

Jascha then said, “The next song is very popular on Youtube…it’s a Youtube hit.’, and people started guessing a lot of names, but it was clear, however, that it was going to be ‘It’s Gonna Make Sense‘. Again, only a handful of people knew the lyrics to this song, which was good because it ensured that when Mikkel launched into a guitar solo just after the bridge, it could be heard clearly. I could, meanwhile, see Kare totally immersed in singing the lyrics to this song. Next, Jascha left his keyboards and slung an acoustic guitar around his neck, and shouted on the mic, “I am not able to see you guys. Are you there?… It’s also a bit difficult to hear you guys at the back. Are you there?” And the rocking intro to ‘Something You Should Know‘ ensued. In the song, I could hear a lot of improvisations, especially in the lead guitar riff, and in the bass line as well. Also the ‘uh hu hu hu’ at the end of the line ‘because I miss you so’ was a little different from the original. Mikkel again showed a glimpse of his guitar skills, when he improvised on the original guitar solo, with the distinctly different riff continuing. When that had ended, Jascha handing away his guitar, joked, “I don’t play the guitar. You probably heard that.” , to some more chuckles from the audience.

Jascha then continued, “The next song is very old song, and it is very special to Michael Learns To Rock. This song is what made MLTR famous a very long time ago…and it goes like this.” And sure enough, it was ‘The Actor‘, to which a fair part of the crowd sang along. After that, the rest of the band disappeared and Jascha remained on the keyboard, telling the crowd the reason as to why the former had left, “They are all old…And I am young.” which was met with peals of laughter. He went on to play ‘Naked Like The Moon‘. Jascha played the chord a trifle late at the beginning of the second verse, and it was becoming clear that he was discomfited by something, possibly a cough, but he braved on without showing it, and at the end of it, he made a gesticulation of wiping his forehead and heaving a huge sigh of relief with a child-like quality to it. And then he disappeared too. (We would later see Jascha having to cope with bouts of cough a couple of times, which he masked or gave vent to by going to the back end of the stage when he had had the chance.)

If one has followed the pattern of MLTR’s past concerts, then he/she would already get a feeling that Jascha plays solo on the piano exactly mid-way through, but we had been only 6-7 songs through when this happened and that planted a doubt in my mind as to whether this was not going to be a short set. All doubts were quelled though when the trio of Mikkel, Kare and the bassist returned to a smokey stage that warmed up to the ambient intro of ‘Take Off Your Clothes‘ followed shortly by a bass riff that sounded a little different to the original one in the song (guess it was a direct consequence of the inclusion of a new bassist). And while we were anticipating the first words of the song, surprise surprise! Mikkel unleashed a mad-cap, almost ‘metallic’, lead guitar solo which was a little but not quite similar to the original solo, even as a part of the crowd, including myself, went completely berserk, and meanwhile Kare thumped away relentlessly at the drums and the bassist slapped away vigorously at his bass guitar. It was a ‘jam’ right in the middle of a supposedly ‘pop’ band’s gig.

Before long, the jam had ended to seamlessly make way for the intro of ‘Hot To Handle‘, once again, with a refreshingly different lead guitar and bass-riffs. By this time, though, Jascha was back on stage, this time in a dark suit, with just a cordless microphone in hand. He came to the edge of the stage and as he sang the first verse, he swayed, jigged with his feet and snapped his fingers a-la performers in the ‘American Idol’ series. After just one verse and chorus, Jascha went back to the keyboard while the backing track seamlessly shifted to the intro of ‘Animals‘. This time, Jascha sang just the opening lines (which actually is also the chorus) and the bridge – ‘in the name of progress, everybody’s gone too far…”, only for the backing track to shift yet again seamlessly to the intro of ‘Blue Night‘. Again, Jascha sang only the first verse and first chorus. It was a medley.

The madness (in a good way) then stopped, and Jascha announced, “The next song is from our forthcoming album which we are going to release in the Spring of next year, and which we are also shooting a music video for. Yesterday, we were running around in the streets of Kathmandu shooting for it. It’s called ‘Anyway You Want It‘. We need your help today to shoot the video…Let’s make a video, a music video, OK?”, and the crowd was only very willing to oblige. We waved our hands and swayed in our places, while two professional cameramen shot away on stage and one of them also came down to the midst of the crowd to shoot a bit. The song was a pleasant, upbeat, although mid-tempo, rock ballad, much reminiscent of Sweetest Surprise, with a soulful short guitar solo. It also had Jascha letting out an ‘exultant’ scream at the end of the bridge. It must be really good in the studio version.

Jascha then thanked the crowd for their help, and went on to introduce the bassist, “You know, in our band we are just four guys. By the way, let me present to you a guy called Lars, playing the bass tonight. It’s actually the first time that Lars is playing with this band…We think that less means more…This is a song with very few instruments, an acoustic guitar only and drums.” It was time for ‘I’m Gonna Be Around‘, during which Jascha, after having threatened to descend the stage many times before, finally did so to walk down the aisle jutting into the crowd.

The next song on the set was ‘Complicated Heart‘ which, again, most of the crowd seemed to know the lyrics to. This song was exactly as we have heard in all the previous live versions. The song then gave way to ‘Nothing To Lose‘ which also had a fairly good response from the crowd. I had never heard a live version of this song, so it was fresh for a change. Then came ‘Angel Eyes‘ that lifted the tempo again. Then lo and behold, another song that I had never heard a live version of, rolled out – ‘How Many Hours‘. This was followed by Jascha saying, “The next song is a Chinese song.”, and even as the intro ensued, the crowed roared in joy to start singing ‘Take Me To Your Heart‘, another popular hit in Nepal. By the end of it people had started yelling, ‘Someday! Someday! Someday!’ given some tough competition by chants of ‘Paint My Love! Paint My Love! Paint My Love!’ as well as chants of ‘Once more! Once more! Once more!’ To which Jascha impishly quipped, “From what you guys are saying, it seems you want us to play our last song.” But then, the intro of ‘Final Destination‘ played, with the song culminating in the now-customary Mikkel guitar solo.

After it had completed, Jascha made a confession, “Our band has a lot of slow songs. This is one of our slowest songs”, and they went on to play ‘Breaking My Heart‘. During the second verse, something went wrong or out of sync, maybe, and Jascha sang the second pre-chorus louder than usual and in a peculiar way. Later, Jascha blurted out the standard introduction to ‘Wild Women‘, “I have seen many wild guys here in Nepal…but I wonder if there are any wild women out there?” The guitar-work on this was quite similar to that on the live versions we have heard. Jascha then introduced the song ‘25 Minutes‘ during the bridge of which Mikkel came down the stage to shake hands with fans. By this time, the demand for the song ‘Someday‘ had reached feverish pitch, and there was no choice left for MLTR than to relent. So they played it after announcing that it was going to be the last song for the night, with the accompaniment of the music video playing on the background screen. Then they waved and disappeared, even as the crowd yelled in excitement, ‘Once more! Once more! Once more!’

However, seasoned fans know better, that their gig is incomplete without ‘That’s Why (You Go Away)’. So, back they were in about 5 minutes to straightaway play magic on ‘Paint My Love‘ and then followed by their magnum opus farewell song, ‘That’s Why (You Go Away)‘. When Jascha, Mikkel and Lars lined up for the final bow, however, Kare could not join them. I learnt from my friends that Kare had been seen limping away to the backstage, the reasons for which are only subject of speculation (cramps? twist? strain? cut?). The stage then bore a deserted look, the music instruments and the equipment left behind seeming to be the only relics of the presence of our pop-rock idols. A dark silence then descended upon the crowd, mingling with the wave of cold that was fast engulfing Tudikhel, which had been hitherto kept warm by MLTR, bringing with it the painful & heavy realization that the road now led back home, lightened, however, by a very recently acquired trove of wistful memories that was going to be ours forever.

Photo courtesy : Fredi Roy

THE CONCERT IN A NUTSHELL

Date : 19th November 2011

Venue : Tudikhel Ground, Kathmandu, Nepal

Time : 6.30 PM to 8.30 PM Nepal Time. Gates opened at 3 PM Nepal time

Crowd : Awaiting accurate/official figures. However, unofficially reported by a newspaper as 6,000 – 10,000 excluding the organizers, volunteers, security personnel and media-persons

Organizers : ODC Networks, Nepal and Engage Entertainment India

Bassist : Lars (Lundholm?)

Set-list : Please refer to the song titles in bold in the note above, and read in the same order.

Lesser known songs played : It’s Only Love, Take Off Your Clothes, Hot To Handle, Animals

Minor hit songs played : Salvation, It’s Gonna Make Sense, How Many Hours

Lesser known but concert regulars : Angel Eyes, Final Destination, Naked Like The Moon

Notable exclusions : Strange Foreign Beauty, Out of the Blue, You Took My Heart Away, I Still Carry On

New Song : Anyway You Want It, from the forthcoming studio album and for which MLTR recorded a video out in Kathmandu and also during the concert.

©Asiman Panda December 2011

A Tryst with the Thar: Jodhpur and Jaisalmer

March 2014. Spring was here, again, bringing with it pangs of fernweh – a feeling of ‘far-sickness’, a longing for distant places – nagging away at my being. The train of heartbreak had barely left the station, all the more reason why I needed to get away in the opposite direction, all on my own, reinforcing at least to myself, the sense of liberation that came of detachment from all things that brew emotional dependence.

However, I could not detach myself from the yearning for the distant lands I had read about in school or seen on TV – the so-called sand dunes and camel rides in the Thar desert in and around Jaisalmer and Bikaner. And then there was Jodhpur, which a General Knowledge book addressed as the Blue City, something about the colour describing a city only piquing the curiosity to see the place in person. I had also taken a liking for forts, my favorite being Chittorgarh, and all these places in the Thar – Jaisalmer, Bikaner and Jodhpur – wore their forts on their sleeves.

After gaining ample confidence from my solo trips to Jaipur and Udaipur in the two preceding years, it was now time to up the ante or increase the dosage, if you will, given how the duration of my previous two Rajasthan trips had incremented by a day each, with the Jaipur sojourn being one day long and the Udaipur one being for two days. Also, the destination on the second trip, Udaipur, was farther from Delhi than was Jaipur, making it imperative that I strike out even further into Rajasthan this year. With these thoughts in mind, choosing the Holi long weekend, Holi falling on 17th March 2014, a Monday, I straightaway booked well in advance a train ticket for my return from Jaisalmer for the evening of Holi.

Finally, on the evening of 13th March, a Friday, I was standing again at Iffco Chowk after office waiting for the next state road transport bus headed to Jaipur. On the bus, it was a familiar feeling with familiar sights, passing through the outskirts of Gurgaon, then passing through the hill forest beyond Manesar, where I remember listening to the Mad Season album by Matchbox Twenty, and then crossing the barrage near Rewari. By 10 PM, I was in Jaipur, where after having a Rajasthani dinner, I hopped onto a state transport bus to Jodhpur, getting a seat beside a foreigner lady accompanied by his Indian guide. By 6 AM next morning, I was in Jodhpur, where like in my Udaipur trip, I simply walked some distance and checked-in to a budget hotel. And started feeling feverish!

Exploring the Blue City

Nevertheless, feeling feverish was a familiar feeling on my solo trips, which I countered this time, by taking a paracetamol tablet following a breakfast of poha. Then, like on my previous trips, I hired an auto-rickshaw with a whole-day tour package that I determined based on the recommendations given by the hotel receptionist, and reached Umaid Bhawan Palace, the current residence of the ruling dynasty of Jodhpur. Located on a hillock, the construction of the palace was started in 1929 by the Maharaja Umaid Singh, 37th Rathore ruler of Marwar state to provide employment to famine-strike farmers, and was completed in 1943, when the Maharaja started occupying it.

From there, I proceeded to Madore, a place that I only learnt about in Jodhpur, located about 8 km from the city, purported to be the native place of Mandodari, Ravana’s wife. Historically, Mandore, the seat of the Gurjara-Pratiharas in the 6th century AD, later became the capital of the Rathores before Rao Jodha shifted to the newly-founded city of Jodhpur. At Mandore, I was completely mesmerized by the scenes unfolding in front me – beautifully manicured lawns surrounding sandstone temples and cenotaphs, with a stone path trailing beside a canal abounding in lotus and lilies, that crossed a water tank and winded up the hill, with a the ruins of a fort lying on top of the hill. From the hilltop, spires of temples, the domes of the cenotaphs and the lushness of the lawns down in the garden below presented the most eye-pleasing views.

Leaving Mandore with reluctance, the autorickshaw driver drove me to Balsamand Lake, on the banks of which lies a summer palace, and from there, returned inside the city, stopping at Jaswant Thada. The Jaswant Thada, a cenotaph built of Makrana Marble for Maharaja Jaswant Singh II in 1899, itself is located on the top of a flat, barren red-coloured hill of igneous rock, only punctuated with water pools and barely any vegetation, and has the scenic backdrop of the Mehrangarh fort on one side. After admiring the striking landscape around the Jaswant Thada, I moved on to the Mehrangarh fort.

The construction of Mehrangarh fort was started in 1459 AD by Rao Jodha, who founded Jodhpur city after moving from Mandore the same year, with most of the current structures being constructed in the 17th century. The fort stands atop a 122 metre high rocky hill overlooking the city, with its distinct red sandstone profile with the red coloured hill base standing out and visible from long distances all around. I walked through the numerous tall arched gates, and then gawked at the imposing palaces and exquisitely done interiors, before ending the tour at the raised long platform lining the fort wall the end of the fort where the cannons stand.

Descending from Mehrangarh, we again headed to the outskirts, this time in the west passing on a road flanked by kumat plants with their golden coloured ears, to Kaylana lake, an artificial lake built by Pratap Singh in 1872, in the midst of igneous rock formations. After spending the sunset on the Kaylana Lake, I returned to the city, stopping at the clock tower, and retired to bed, after a day well spent, with my heart throbbing in anticipation of seeing the desert the next day.

Off to the Dunes

The next morning, I left the hotel and was inside a road transport bus headed to Jaisalmer by 8.30 AM. As we left the city, the landscape became progressively arid, with it becoming more distinctively barren and sandy as the bus approached Pokhran, where khejri trees stood scattered with large expanses of empty space between each other. I distinctly remember listening to the album The Bends by Radiohead as I marvelled at the white-yellowish sparsely vegetated soil shimmering under the sun. At 3 PM, as I stepped down at Jaisalmer, a streak of electrified excitement passed through my body. Soon, I was picked up by a local who I had called beforehand based on a colleague’s referral.

Landscape on the way to Jaisalmer somewhere between Jodhpur and Pokhran

The first sight that struck me as I rode pillion on the local’s motorcycle was that of the Jaisalmer fort radiating in all its golden glory with multiple golden coloured stony turrets stacked one after the other along the edge of a golden coloured rocky hillock. It was the physical manifestation of the images that I had created in my mind from reading in a book or hearing in the context of a movie (Sonar Kella by Satyajit Ray) or seeing in pictures or documentaries. But stepping physically inside that physical manifestation of my mental image had to wait, for there was yet another mental image born from childhood dreams that I had to physically soak in first – the sand dunes.

View of Jaisalmer fort (‘Sonar Kella’, or golden fort, as nicknamed by Satyajit Ray)

So checking into a budget hotel at the foot of the hill on which the fort is located, I rented a scooter from a nearby shop, and armed with a map and directions provided by the rent-a-bike shop scooted off towards Sam. As I left the periphery of the city, habitation and vegetation disappeared, while the road dipped and rose in curves streaking across the arid landscape shooting and disappearing into the horizon. Alongside the road, stood tall windmills in the midst of tall grass, with the skyline in the background lined by a long sandy ridge running from one end to another end of the purview.

As I rode up and down the wavy road, stopping at places to click photographs of the landscape, the thin clusters of huts and the camels either solitary or in groups whiling away time, I was welcomed by flat patches of sand with sparse vegetation on both sides. After almost an hour of riding, resorts in the form of desert camps started appearing, signalling the arrival of the Sam Sand Dunes. Right at the location where the Jaisalmer local’s contact person at Sam Sand Dunes had indicated earlier over the phone, there stood a camel with its minder waiting for me. And soon, the camel, with its minder and I seated on its back, heaved with a jerk from its kneeling position to stand upright, even as I saw the ground beneath sinking away, and lurched into the vast expanse of shimmering mounds of sand lying in front of me.

Glimpses of the landscape on the way to Sam Sand Dunes from Jaisalmer city

After staggering up and down the peaks and troughs of the dunes for about a kilometer, the camel stopped, and the minder beckoned me to get down, and soak in the atmosphere and the sands. As I sat on the sand, sifting through it, taking a fistful of it, and letting it stream down from my hands, I was overcome by the delight and glee of a child that has been left to play in a theme park. I sat marvelling at nature’s unique creation, observing the ribbed contours formed on the sand due to effects of wind, and the trails of footprints left behind by camels and humans and the tracks of the wheel carts swishing across the undulations. Beholding the sun setting behind the dunes, I turned around only to be awestruck by the near full moon hovering just over the horizon in the opposite direction.

In the twilight, I trod by foot over the sand dunes back to the point where I had parked my scooter, and headed across the road to the resort where the Jaisalmer local had arranged for my dinner. After witnessing a folk programme of Rajasthani music and dance, and gorging on the buffet of Rajasthani cuisine, I headed back on my scooter to the city. Riding all alone at 8.30 PM in the night, with the seas of moonlit sands glimmering all the way to the horizon on both sides of road, the near full moon hanging right over my head keeping me company and the cool breeze blowing against my face, I reckoned that I had transcended all bounds of the material world – I was floating in a meditative plane, wanting the ride to never end. It was pure bliss.

Folk programme inside a desert camp resort

Desert Frenzy

The next day was going to be jam-packed, what with my return scheduled on the 6 PM train that evening. So, I started around 9.30 AM after breakfast on the scooter, and headed back on the same road leading to Sam Sand Dunes. Midway though, I took a left turn and headed off on the narrow road piercing the desert, and reached Kuldhara, an abandoned village, also touted as a haunted site, right in the middle of the desert. At Kuldhara, there lay rows of abandoned stone houses with only their walls remaining, alongside a temple around which the town’s life seems to have centered around. Adjacent to the lies a garden dubbed Jurassic Cactus Park, with a fascinating assortment of cactus varieties.

Established in the 13th century by Paliwal Brahmins who had emigrated from Pali, and is said as per a local legend, to have been abandoned overnight and cursed by the villagers when the prime minister Salim Singh set eyes on the village chief’s daughter and threatened the villagers with dire consequences if they defied his wish. However, research seems to suggest that Kuldhara and other such villages nearby were abandoned gradually over time, mainly due to damage due to earthquakes and dwindling water supply, and the abandonment seems to have been precipitated by early 19th century due to the oppressive tax regime of Jaisalmer state propagated by Salim Singh.

Pushing further into the desert, all alone on the scooter, with nary a human in sight, I headed towards Khabha. About half an hour later, passing through sands with occasional patches of 3 feet tall grass beneath some of which, one or more camels would be resting, I beheld a ridge, resembling a plateau on which stood a compact golden-coloured fort. Ascending up the ridge, I was soon inside the Khabha fort, with tiny turrets lining its peripheral wall, where I was amazed to find a museum of natural history. The fort stood all alone in desolation, a lone sentinel on the edge of a low cliff in the middle of the desert, overlooking, in the escarpment below, the stony ruins of an abandoned village, a sight similar to that I had just seen in Kuldhara.

Somewhere in the desert on the way to Khabha

Leaving Khabha, I rode back towards the Sam road, and crossed it to move over to the other side, where the landscape was relatively greener, and then riding parallel to the Sam road but towards Jaisalmer, I reached Lodurva, which was the capital of the Bhattis before Rawal Jaisal founded Jaisalmer in 1156 CE. At Lodurva, I visited the Shree Parshvanath temple, dedicated to the 23rd Tirthankara, built in the 9th century in yellow limestone and sandstone, which was destroyed in 1152 by invaders, and later renovated and repaired in 1615 AD. Riding further, I was accosted by a couple of youth on a motorcycle who were intent on smearing rangoli, since it was Holi. I sped as fast as I could, with the duo in hot pursuit, finally managing to lose them, and only stopped, nearer to Jaisalmer, at the Amar Singh Jain temple.

It was now 1 PM, and I had on my wish list, still one more outstation site to see, but this site was located on the other side of the city. Calculating the time I had in hand, I crossed Jaisalmer city, and sped on the Barmer highway to reach Akal Wood Fossil Park, lying about 18 km south-east of Jaisalmer, where I was welcomed by a couple of emus and an assortment of wood fossils dating back to 200 million years. I rode through the desolate desolate brown rocky land, coming across more preserved fossilized wood dating and pairs of pillars for which there was no explanation. After wandering for a while inside the fascinating park, I headed back to the city, where I stopped at Gadisar Lake, an artificial lake created in 1156 to serve as the main water source for the then newly-founded city.

Welcomed by emus in Akal Wood Fossil Park

After surrendering the scooter at the rent-a-bike shop, at around 4 PM, I finally found myself inside Jaisalmer fort. Soon, I was walking through the streets of the bustling town lying inside the fort premises. After whizzing past the courtyards, corridors and halls in the palaces, I came upon the the alleys running along the ramparts of the fort, winding around the turrets, in maze-like form. Standing on the ramparts, I was treated to breathtaking views of the cityscape and the barren, desert landscape beyond it with its meeting point with the sky shrouded in a haze of sand, leaving me in a trance.

Panoramic view of the city and beyond from the ramparts of Jaisalmer fort

My reverie was broken when the local who had arranged my accommodation and camel ride at Sam Sand Dunes called, asking if I was prepared to be dropped at the railway station. Walking down the fort road, I was not able to escape an assault of rangoli launched by a passerby, rendering patches of colour on my shirt and hair, leaving me fuming. But then, I saw a group of white tourists who had completely immersed themselves enjoyment of the festival of colours, and I told myself, what’s the big deal?, and greeted them, followed by exchanges of polite colour smearing.

As I mounted the motorcycle to sit behind the Jaisalmer local, with my backpack lugging on my back, I took one parting look at the mesmerizing golden fort sitting proudly and timelessly on the rock. An hour later, I was inside the train, fondly scrolling through the gallery on my Nokia Lumia phone, with the photographs on my phone, the smudges of rangoli on my person, and the wistfulness in my heart, being the only remaining and undying vestiges of my tryst with the Thar.

Trip Map of Jodhpur

Trip Map of Jaisalmer