Kasol, Mini Israel? Well, well for those of you who have a traveller’s heart up their sleeve, this place could be anything you want it to be! Yes, as touristy & oversold Kasol is, it had its own revelations for me. But, in retrospect. Our overnight journey from Chandigarh to Bhuntar began at 10.00 pm from Sector 43 Bust stand. If you are the one who makes it to Chandigarh a little before time, just spare some to spend at Panjab University campus. Everyone’s welcome at the University, simply because of the famed Stucee (Student Canteen) & the well-laid architecture of Le Corbusier! You can wail away as much time here, by just sitting in a corner & watching Chandigarh come alive, the sunset in the vast sky would be worth it if nothing! And once you are geared up for the night Volvo ride to Bhuntar, stuff yourself enough till your arrival at 6.30 am.
The overnight drive was sleep-inducing as the roads were calm until we reached Aut. And then Aut took over with its steady river & misty greetings. The month of August isn’t as bad as usually put across on the internet. So here we were at Bhuntar, still 1.5 hours behind Kasol. On being dropped off at Bhuntar, we took about 5 minutes to take a call amidst the indecisive faces, & hopped on to the bus at a halt, taking us to Kasol. The bus ride on the super narrow road, with just an inch of gap between vehicles before they collide, is one art of a ride! The mountain drivers yet again make it to the list of drivers with such agility in maneuvering on the narrow roads. Passing by the gushing River Beas, ferociously screaming out its monsoon mood, with the increased water level. This was one powerful sight until we reached Kasol.
Kasol welcomed with a mellow vibe in the air as we reached way too early & marched towards our den for the next 2 days – The Hosteller. Perched on an offbeat location from the main Kasol market, we walked on a small trail leading to the hostel, by the forest. Elated to see the yellow benchmarks of liveliness, we bunked our luggage on the beds & quickly went for a peek into the hostel. The terrace opens to a massive mountain facing you under a lamp-lit sky roof. So beautifully adorned by the greens & yellows – you could watch the sky all day.
Soon, another co-traveller pointed to that warming reading space, opening to a window of mountain views & a shelf of books, to shell yourself into. Not to forget since we happened to reach Kasol early, The Hosteller, accommodated our freshening up request until the check-in time at 1.00 pm. So you get your favorite black coffee, a sky roof overhead & also a reading space! After resting for a while by the roof & absorbing Kasol from a distance we decided to head out for brunch in Kasol. But before we leave, here’s a glimpse of the reading space.
When in Kasol, don’t forget the river. So off we were across the road & into the cafe, by the river. The river Parvati, adorned the views with its rapid rush into the valley as the mountains guarded its sanctity. This restaurant by the river is across the main road, right in the beginning. Don’t be surprised if a local stout masseuse offers you a massage amidst the views. That’s what Kasol is all about – accommodating travellers, since time immemorial. Like I said this place is all that you want to make of it! Now, during after our grand meal by the river & trees, we spotted a road bang opposite our view. Tread by backpackers & few locals, curiosity lead us to the very same path. Crossing a bridge in a walk of another 10 minutes, we were on the other side, which we were just glaring at sometime back.
A beautiful white dog greeted us on the bridge & walked along, taking us into the Kais Wildlife Sanctuary as the apple phone pointed out. The beauty of traveling without a map was real, we barged every corner of Kasol just out of inquisitiveness. Soon we found ourselves very close to Rasol top. A short hike amidst the village folks gave us a peek into their poultry, an old man taking his afternoon siesta under the tree at his house & not to forget, the beautiful mountain kids & nature plenty. We soon found our meditative spot by a shade under the tree, just absorbing the views of the river below & the giant mountains making it unfathomable to decipher their height. We were a group of Mountaineering folks from a course which we voluntarily negate, and therefore had no courage to call it a feasible climb till the top of Rasol village. *Laughs*
We were simply taking it slow, or shall I say too slow (Keeping the vibe of Kasol alive). The resting point turned out to be a scene from Samuel Becket’s play, “Waiting for Godot”. I for a moment became a tree, while the other two folks were like Vladimir & Estragon, waiting for something, but unaware of what it was.
When we finally picked ourselves from the long sitting – drenched in the Romanticism of Kasol for more than an hour now, we decided to head back. But like Vladimir would have said it, our Vladimir wearing his shades, stopped for a moment and said; “let that cloud take over the sun & then we shall move.” I reassured myself of the Vladimir in the group, we were heading nowhere! *Giggled* Until we recalled its 2.00 pm & we could now finally check- into the Hostel & freshen up the fatigue. Taking the route further we just walked across the road & back to The Hosteller. A hot bath & some rest was much required after this long drag of exploring Kasol. We decided we would spend the evening around the Hostel itself, on the terrace. Snacks were ordered from the restaurant & an evening was laid, with some music & mountain high – there began our journey into the Kasol – Malana circuit. Night drew with the open sky & a dog by the terrace. It felt like days have passed by, just sitting idle – but was that all Kasol could offer?
We left those thoughts to the following day & crashed on our bunkers for a sound sleep. The sheer delight of not knowing a place & further being the indecisive lot, we took all the liberties to let the traveller within, take a call for this 7-day long trip.
The next morning got us going – we woke up to a sunny day, rains seemed like Godot himself. One of us after thorough research on the maps at the reception counter decided that we were going to Malana village today. The idea of witnessing the celebrated Malana inhabitants, claiming to be a pure Aryan race & descendants of Alexander the Great, was beyond words. The good part, we knew nothing more than that about the village. We were advised by the man at the reception, to hop on a bus taking us to Jari in an hour’s drive. The drive to Jari which is before Kasol, we traced the same way which we took to reach Kasol. Jari, is a hullabaloo market place, providing everything for locals. At the taxi stand, we found out that the cab to Malana, would only take us till the Malana bridge & charge a sum of Rs.900 for one way drop. After plenty of negotiations, Vladimir, Estragon & I just hopped into the cab. The cost was the same, the only thing they offered as a result of negotiations was a drop back after a wait of 4 hours, costing a total of Rs 1800. We decided we would let the driver leave & plan our return accordingly.
The drive diverted a little before Jari & uphill towards Malana. It was a bumpy drive at places, but with views on both the sides – it was akin to a landscaped version of Lata village in Uttarakhand. Malana was watching us arrive from a distance. I was grateful we didn’t trek for 6 hours one way to reach Malana since the fact of that “A” grade from the mountaineering course was definitely not the real reflector of my skill sets. As we reached the Malana road head, we got off the cab & hiked amidst the green fields on both sides, until we reached a bridge. The bridge was not only about the violently – refreshing river below but also hosted a cafe for trekkers, serving as a pit stop. The hike from the bridge to Malana village, which was discernible only at a visual distance, was quite a task. The sun was bright & the weather was warm. I was surprised at a mountain hike being so uncomfortable until we reached Malana, and was relieved under trees & densely populated houses.
At the first glimpse of Malana I felt like a distraught parent looking for a runaway teenager, the village offered nothing for the start. Either tourism had trodden on its soil for too long or the inhabitants were living in complete ignorance about it. This village had some barrenness to it, probably because of the sheer lethargy of the locals tapping the Malana high, or probably they were simply tired of their rituals. I was disheartened at the idea of a celebrated Himalayan village until I saw a face. The children of Malana, they are in abundance. Their facial features were distinct, each with an elongated face of a European & the color of their eyes was majorly a shade of brown. The fact that Alexander & his soldiers must have been there for long enough, felt genetically right at least. I was further intrigued to catch a glimpse of the old women, bearing those contours of “having seen it all” on their faces. As we walked a little further from the courtyard to the houses, we were asked to step aside since a group of 3 men carrying logs of wood on their shoulder, claimed themselves to be the descendants of “Aryans”. The practice was simple, you just had to give them a way, without touching them (even by chance), lest we corrupt their genes.
Standing there, I was in awe of the idea itself. What makes a human proclaim oneself as pure – impure? I could only understand it as an outcome of a sense of pride, well-acknowledged, but also well-ensured. We acceded to their request because somewhere we too hailed them as pure races. History affects everyone, more than reality sometimes & so we gave in. We were soon walking uphill to perch ourselves on a place from where Malana could be envisioned, we found one location in the middle of a hill immediately above the houses. From there Malana looked like a massive city settlement, anything more than a Himalayan village. It was a redeeming & poignant sight at once. Until the rain gods decided to spell out our thoughts with slight drizzles & I caught a happy breath to just let go off that Malana high!
As the drizzle continued we picked ourselves up to head to a cafe for a hot coffee. Walking past the village houses with a random kid peeking out of the window & ladies conducting their daily rituals, we chanced upon a distant cafe. The views from here were inexplicable – the greenery & sunlight merged at certain places on the mountain slopes, giving the synaesthetic feel, which only John Keats could have described best! But here’s a glimpse
Walking ahead towards the deck of this cafe we ordered black coffee, only to immerse ourselves in music & views. This deck opened to vistas of mountain views, birds, streams & a spider working on its creation. I stared at it for the longest time thinking of this web of life. The setting was simply quiet & I reckoned a thought, owing to the spider’s web. What if all these pantheistic beliefs I upheld, were coming alive to tell that there is a fight even in nature. A spider spins his web, to catch its prey, similarly, our survival is based on the web we lay. The web of thoughts, actions & experiences gathered thereof. We too are made up of so many webs, each entangling us to let us survive a day more, but are we really living in the process? The spider religiously spins the web for it has to survive that very day, as for us, we simply create more webs to survive longer in just one day! Why can’t we build one web a day? Just live for that one day – 24 hours & leave everything behind, to be in the moment with all our follies & climbs. I was snapped from the thoughts when I realized that the three of us were very much living the day. Amid the serene views-that black coffee, music – lyrics & talks of things beyond Earth – Cosmology, as Vladimir & Estragon called it, was enough for this day.
There is always a sense of hope in being with people who talk their heart out, we were having one such moment of “Just being.” It was at 3.30 pm that we realized we must hike our way back till Malana bridge, which would now take another 1.5 hours. On our way back we witnessed some more village folks who were heading homewards from their fields with bundles of grass on their back & soon we spotted another pretty face!
On reaching the road head, we hopped on to the first cab & drove back to Kasol. The drive was speedy & took away all the calm from Malana, it was only on reaching Kasol that we made a peaceful start, yet again. Under a dusky sky, we figured that it was time to find our nocturnal belongings on the roads of Kasol. Now we went around to tread on the Kasol market roads & picked our place for the night – The Moondance Cafe (Where the sound of the river is louder than the Moon’s dance) & finally to Mama Cafe, our last joint. Thinking of our day we laughed away in jitters at so many things which accounted for the little moments of intensity. It was difficult to call it the Kasol high, I concluded Malana couldn’t have been better. As darkness filtered through lights at Mama cafe, we talked & laughed that night until we reached our hostel around 12.00 pm
It was our last night at the Hostel & we spent some time by the fairly – light ambiance of the open sitting area, at the entrance. Sitting on a rugged tyre & a chair, we perched outside in Kasol for one last splash of thoughts, lights & music. It was a conclusive idea for me now, look for the extraordinary in ordinary. I assured myself that this trip is going to have its own revelations! “Just wait for it!”
Part 2– Nakhtan – Kheerganga Trek & the Orchards of Kulga Village. Stay Tuned.
