6th of August – 10:00 am by the clock, Vladimir & Estragon picked themselves up to walk outside their den (The Hosteller). There was a third person too making them a group of three all sharing an unnerving silence in peace. They walked on the road like tramps with backpacks hurled on their back – that baggage they had carried from distant lands & loved to bring them over & over again to the mountains. Looking for a bus to take them to Tosh, they relished some time by the lively roads of Kasol, dotted with shops on either side. There was this one particular shop that interested Vladimir. This was unlike any other shop in the mountains, especially in the Himalayan belt, a shop from where you could procure instruments. Since Kasol is home to “Mini Israel”, the influx of foreigners brought with them a lot of old curiosity shops & their share of interests.
Vladimir walked into the shop to find out about that one instrument he had been on hunt of. He finally found a purpose, at least visibly on his face. He exercised that kind of control, before jumping to a decision as he inadvertently weighed things within, for way too long & there he was looking for a hang drum inside the shop. Testing the ones on display, he played a couple of them with his artistic fingers, creating ripples of sounds – he checked them all. After a long investigative chat with the owner, he discovered where he procured his stock from. A man called Allahabad, in some far-off village in Benaras. The thought of Benaras, was the second-best thing that lighted up his face today. Meanwhile, Estragon quickly vaporized outdoors to check for the bus, until Vladimir walked out too.
Kasol was leaving them intrigued, something to return to. Walking across Moondance Café & over the bridge, the three of them now hopped on to the first bus taking them to the bus stand. The Taxi – cum bus stand was further going to lead them for the bus destined to Tosh. After a wandering manoeuvre amidst the buses & folks, they figured an uphill trail to reach another level of the road, taking them to Barsheni. The bus was yet to arrive & so they lodged their bags under the roof of a tea stall, not functional for the day. Soon, Godot walked in!
A tall South Indian face, with an unsteady grimace, asked: “Where are you destined for?” Answering his Question, Vladimir was asked the next – one after the other& the last one being – “How do you guys know each other?” The difficult part was who should answer that until they collectively agreed “We are friends from a Mountaineering course.” Travelers on this route were umpteen & one was practically never alone. So now that Godot had joined too, there was no more waiting & they boarded the same bus leading to Barsheni. A bumpy bus ride of 1 hour, Vladimir, Estragon & the third one indulged in a momentary exchange of talks, with an odd passenger taking the seat next to them in some time itself.
Deboarding at Barsheni, the four of them stood again at one place, with the same baffled faces, when it came to that decision-making time. The deal was either to walk from Barsheni to Tosh which is about 5.5 km hike or one could hire a cab to reach Tosh in a drive of 30 minutes. So they began walking. Godot was new to the group, so the three let him just be, for he was a refreshing change. He walked steady, with a meditative smile & seemed to trust his new subjects. As the four drew closer to Tosh, the valley gently unraveled itself with yellow wildflowers spread on both sides along the Parvati river, next to the hydropower project of Kulga. The dam on the right diverges into two roads, one leading to Tosh & the other to Kulga. The backpackers kept treading on the road towards Tosh, until they caught sight of a distant village, across the river. They took the road which was less populated, however, that kind of luxury was rare in Himachal. Soon they realized they were on the Kheerganga trail, closer to Nakthan village.
Crossing the bridge above the ferocious mood of Parvati River, they were across the road in no time. Walking steadily on a sunny afternoon, accompanied by a sudden flash of wind, refreshing their purpose, it was a great relief! They took a couple of halts, there was one on which they found a Candy floss seller. Himachal offers one extreme way of life for travelers in the Himalayas; nowhere in other belts would you find a candy floss seller on a trekking trail! Himachal accommodates everyone & everything. The second long stop the four took was at a tea stall. Village folks & their cattle, everything was passing them by. They even shared fits of laughter at the folks, who were looking for a purpose. They were relatable fellow beings! A good black tea was relished & a peculiar high felt when Albatros (Aron Chupa’s track) played & they became the Souls of the lost sailor – one energetic number!
It was time they checked out from the tea stall as the evening drew closer & Nakthan village had to be explored with a homely accommodation for the night. They walked till the end of the village until they chanced upon that Blue House. It had its own magnetism, two had already inquired about a room for the night, but the lady owner denied, so they walked past. When the third one made an attempt the lady agreed to show around the house. The four of them were stifled in happy agreement at the thought of the house to be their den for the night. They got a good deal for a room & a meal, elated they dumped their bags in the room upstairs. The room was a small warm wooden cabin, anything cozy that you can imagine for a typical village house.
They soon lodged themselves in the porch of “The Blue House.” The lady of the house walked up to them informing about the dinner preparations. A simple local meal is what they were looking at & the lady prepared a wholesome rice & lentil dinner. The look on Estragon’s face said it all about the food and his happiness in being there. He was someone who could fit into any mold. The four of them were now introduced to the owner, who spoke volumes about her life & the village, over the meal. When she left them for the night, the four gathered around the staircase, right below which was a small sitting area under the roof. The night drew with drizzles & words pouring from all four directions, Godot being the new topic of the town. The three of them let Godot lead the night, while each revealed their constellations.
The night soon dispelled the darkness with a song & the porch, all four standing in harmony sharing the same night sky, which resulted in one song after another, legs grooving to the tunes of Nakthan. Sleep that night brought some funnier endings. They slept like the day it was – everything was happening too fast, to even get a hold of. Morning drew all of them to the same porch of the house. It was drizzling; the lady of the house prepared steaming coffee & gave her guests some company, she was a curious talker. She liked to have company around & so they told her that they would be staying for another night at her house, as today her guests just wanted to be around the village.
Godot, the new companion was a short-lived company, as he had to head back for another meeting back in Kasol, the four decided to hang around Nakthan for a while. The Nakthan village offers 3 -4 cafes, serving a decent variety of meals & splendid views of the Parvati Valley amidst the lush mountainscape. While the four halted at a café, perched right in the beginning of the village, the passerby’s (Destined to Kheerganga) glanced at their immobility. From locals to village dogs, all passed them by, yet they were unmoved by the slightest intervention. That place was too comforting to be left. After relishing a fulfilling brunch, they bid Godot adieu! After his departure there was wicked silence in their communication. Godot had covered up for the other three walls of silence with his presence. Yet it was time for them to retrace their silences, garbed in sudden fits of mirthful laughter. The afternoon went by; it was only close to 4.00 pm that they walked back to the Blue house, to fix their dinner arrangements.
The host lady was kind enough to offer them a rich meal of Cottage cheese & chapattis. Her brother was also joining them for dinner tonight; he owned a campsite at Kheerganga. Before dinner, two of them had a fun time with their immediate neighbors, a small girl & her brother playing an instrument – “Turri”, the war cry music of the past. The little girl, Heidi, her brother (the – would-be – man of the house), glanced at their father shaving in the courtyard. The giggles on the girl’s countenance & that charm of a typical mountain kid were taking over Vladimir & the third one. Being around kids was a different kind of exhilaration for some. Mountain villages had so many ways to keep you happy; this was just one of the many.
Soon Estragon who played flute, an instrument that spoke volumes about him – began a session under the open sky. He was in tune with the instrument, striking his own kind of conversation under that evening sky. Music elevated the three of them, they somehow required no words. The instrument got them going & then began some soulful talks of school in the mountain & the student’s full of life. Estragon was part of a school in Jammu. He had his own share of stories in videos & words. While Vladimir revelled himself & his company with his Geological interests, the three of them fused into one while talking of the subjects of their individual interests. Soon, the lady walked in calling them for dinner, it was 7.30 pm already. When they walked into her kitchen, they had a new person to speak to, the lady’s brother.
Her brother entertained his guests with as much enthusiasm while he kept eating his food, the lady in the meanwhile joined after serving all her housemates. This was the way they lived, the host ought to eat at the last, having served everyone. Mountain people & hospitality come in a package; there is no way you will find one without the other. The three of her guests gulped down the meal & asked for their leave, they intended to walk around the village on this last night. So after dinner, they walked back to the same café where they spent most of the day today, it was a different view now. Pitch dark, not a soul on the trail & they grabbed three chairs to absorb the moonlit sky. Nakthan was immensely beautiful even at night; the green mountains made a silhouette with their dainty slopes under the moonlit night. They lost themselves for some time.
As requested by the lady of the house, they returned to their room sooner than anyone pointed out. The room was another potpourri of stories. Recapping their day, they lit some good music & chatted for the longest time, adding to the ghost of talks that the walls in the room would echo for times to come. They slept sound, with the door slightly ajar, to let the night walk in while they sleep. The Morning had a new story to unravel.
It was the 8th of August, they had spent two nights in the beautiful village of Nakthan, marking their presence with the villagers, unlike so many other trekkers. The three cherished the idea of offbeat more than ever now. Today they were heading for Kheerganga trek. About 3 hours further from Nakthan village is Kheerganga, perched at 3,050 m. The trail traversed through forests & a few rough patches with streams & falls galore, establishing the name of the trek Kheerganga itself. Kheer, (An Indian sweet dish) which is white in color is compared to White water of Ganga sprouting from the hills leading to the Parvati River valley below. The three of them steadily kept ascending the trail, with an old phone music station being played on the speakers. The songs recollected so many years of coming of age, while age was still counting on those numbers to return.
The last stop before a 500 m ascend to Kheerganga, was a shanty offering a quick break under a tree. The first look of the destination was alarming, for after the peaceful trail the sudden bombardment of campsites caught them off guards. The three were disappointed with the overcrowded vibe of the place & kept ascending until they reached the bird’s eye view of this destination. Spreading themselves on the grass by the least inhabited campsite they figured their joy without the crowd. The beauty of mountains was indeed, only after the hardest climb & so they chose the last campsite on the hill, offering a panoramic view of Kheerganga. It was agreed now, Kheerganga View Café was going to be worth it.
With the afternoon replacing the evening, Vladimir & Estragon went for a short hike around & figured that they could spend some time by the hot sulphur water bath. The hot water bathing area is a designated area for men & women & it is said that the sulphur water can cure many ailments. This belief was assured when a lady in the common area where the Third one was sitting with her book, interrupted asking, “Where are you all travelling from?” Telling her of their whereabouts in the last two days, she figured that the lady was the campsite owner’s sister from Nagar (A town in Manali). The lady added that the hot water spring is said to have curing elements of sulphur, so she herself visited the place 3 -4 times a year. Talking to her further, she revealed that she hailed from the same village of Nakthan & was married to an Australian climber, Roddie Mackenzie. Her story was intimidating at first until she herself turned out to be an example of one powerful lady from the mountains.
The beauty of not doing anything in a mountain is also enlightening, there are people with whom you can talk & then there are things you can silently observe. The boys returned soon, refreshed by that intoxicating cure of the hot water spring. The three joined for a night of merrymaking by the fairly lights & the sky. Kheerganga at night is no less than a city, a mountain enveloped in music & lights – so the three of them took some liberty of being on the top & relished the lit views of a settlement below. The night grew cooler, with slight drizzles as the snacks were served. A hot something & a hot something else of food – it was all irrelevant, the red fairy lights & a white mountain dog sleeping under the lights had satiated all the hunger. The three zoned out into perpetual silence. It was peace, joy, light, belief, darkness, hope – everything at once. Few things were inexplicable!
Walking to their tent, they shrimped under the blanket to sleep like there was no morrow.. They started the following day, only after, noon. Hot coffee & a cloud clearing view of the mountain bang opposite was redeeming after the red-lit night. They headed for breakfast somewhere downhill, somewhere with the crowd just to seep it all in. Packing their bags they hit the trail back to Nakthan. The urgency of life beyond mountains was calling them back. It had been 8 long days in the mountains. So they traced their way till the bridge across the river & decided to spend the one last night at the Orchard village of Kalga. The village trail began from the road head at Nakthan to the hydro project area & a little further uphill walk of another 20 minutes. It was 7.00 pm already. Vladimir & Estragon hunted down a lodge by the apple orchards, the grand – last night, as they wanted to call it! They were part overjoyed with settlement & part nostalgic about the Blue House, the Top view of Kheerganga & so many stories. After a warm bath, fatigue walked out of them & they called forth the night of conclusions. From Kasol to Malana – Nakhtan to Kheerganga & finally at Kalga, they ended their 9 day long trip amidst the apple orchards. The village was pouring music in their ears & the Israelis spelling out their laughter until late at night. After dinner, the three poured out some music of their choice, some words to marvel upon & some endings to be sure of. They went far, so far that they even thought of their funeral songs.
It was as though they had seen everything, the fast, the slow, and the possibility of an immobile life. Sometimes you have to do nothing to see everything. They concluded the night at 3.00 am or should we say they slept that last morning until 9.00 am. Morning views of the lodge were blissful, reassuring & green. Apple orchards came alive at Kalga & the endings didn’t seem so disappointing now. Taking a bus from Barsheni to Kasol, was one of the fastest things they had done in the last 5 days. The bus was green, travelers returning from their respective destinations walked into the bus with their own kaleidoscopic colors. Each face spelled out a story.
When the bus halted at Kasol, Vladimir, Estragon & the third celebrated their departure at Moon Dance Café. They hailed Kasol one last time, before boarding the final bus to Mandi. And in their departure, they took back a part of Kasol with them, as they walked into a shop where the boy at the counter asked after they purchased some rags of clothes – “Are you happy?” The baggage they carried seemed to vanish steadily, nobody had asked them this question before, suddenly they found their Godot in everyone. No longer were they “Waiting for Godot”. They were happy. They found an answer to that rush of travelers escaping the ordinary, with the baggage in that rucksack always carrying millions of memories & the need to run away every now & then. Everything just ended at one sole thought – “Wherever you go, go with all your heart.”
