SOUL SEARCH IN KASOL

A wise man once said that its not the destination but the journey that counts. I can bet you that the wise man in question never took the New Delhi-Kullu flight.  Here the journey is the issue! First you pray reverently that the flight is not cancelled at the last minute because a little change in weather means you collect your luggage back and head home once again.  The flight takes off at uncivilised hours in the morning which means you practically don't sleep at night because naturally, your whole mind and body is programmed to wake up early. The alternative to a cancelled flight means is the bus- where you literally get taken for a ride of over 14-15 hours. Though the buses are Volvos and the seats are semi-recliner and each seat comes with its own TV and all that jazz, the only problem is try telling that to your back side!  Worse certain sections of the road in Himachal Pradesh can give the craters on the moon stiff competition. We all have been hearing about the proposed 4-lane highway and we have been hearing about it and we have been hearing about it and............

Anyway, this is about the flight, once it takes off, all is hunky dory until it approaches the Kullu airport. These giants mountains stare at you from arm's length distance while the pilot does some highly skilled manoeuvres and some amazing turns and dips. Finally, when you hit the tarmac don't rejoice yet; the flight cannot afford the luxury of a slow taxing, therefore it is as if the brakes are slammed and the planes comes to a sudden halt within minutes of hitting the ground. Don't know why we don't applaud the pilot? Seems we Indians are more restrained than the Brits who not just clapped but hooted and whistled when the Ryanair plane made it in one piece to Zurich from Lytton Airport. I'm sure Shashi Tharoor would have harumphed, what else can you expect from the cattle class.  Flying to Kullu means you are cattle class because the only airlines that flies there is Indian Airlines and its the small plane, the 50-seaterone or something like that. Lets applaud the government for doing that at least!

After thanking everyone up there for landing safely at Kullu, the destination (tell the wise man it really matters) is Kasol, a tiny hill station in Parvati Village, alongside the Parvati River. From the airport it takes about an hour and a half (or more) depending on the traffic and the weather. Despite its small size Kasol is split into two - Old Kasol and New Kasol. There are the snow peaked mountains, the rising hills laden with Deodhar and pine trees, the Parvati River dashing away in full speed, the pleasant climes and everything you expect from a hill station but..... Yes there is a but. Sadly, even though the tiny hill station is yet to make its mark as a hot tourist destination, it already seems to have given up the effort. Everywhere you look there are bars, cafes, guesthouses (some really seedy ones), cyber cafes, reggae bars and such jostling for space. Worse there is either no local governance there or the residents are least bothered - because everywhere you look, at least in the town/market section there are rubbish dumps everywhere. It really needs some warped thinking to trash such a beautiful village so recklessly.  Just think - you are crossing a small bridge wooden admiring the picture perfect sight in the distance, rugged snow peaks caught in the vee-shaped window that the inclines of two hills make, you turn your eyes to the right and left and what do you  see?  The stream on both sides of the bridge almost choked with giant rubbish heaps. Something in you dies a little at the total disregard for both nature and humanity.   

     

 

Even as you wish better civic sense prevailed, the fact remains that the beauty of Kasol is indeed awesome. There is also one very unique factor - signboards all over in Hebrew!  Yep, Kasol is often called India's mini Israel. Everywhere you look, you see them. Most them, so it said, are youngsters taking a relaxing holiday after the compulsory military service in their country. Many of them do certainly look very, very relaxed- the charas factor at work certainly. Might sound like a total digression - but what is about hair and humans? Why do we opt for a new cut/style to indicate different phases in life? Because the Kasol market has salons that without fail offer 'Rasta Making'. There were heads with dreadlocks all over and at least one young Israeli woman (looked more like a skinny teenager) had a huge mound piled up on her head that I feared that she would topple over because of the sheer weight. If it makes any sense Malana Village is not too far away. It is a solitary village on a plateau in the Malana Nala in north-east Kullu Valley with a unique lifestyle and social structure.  To get there one has to trek up over 3-4 kilometres. Don't expect a warm welcome; all non-Malanis are inferior and untouchables! So why do many people still trek up there? It's a creamy tale, the Malana cream kind!

 

A little further down, as we leave the crowded market, the rows of cafes and the likes, the honking traffic and move further down a sloping narrow road we come across the 'Chabad of India', an old tin roofed stoned cottage turned into the Israeli centre. An open yellow gate with a huge banner leads to it. There are Hebrew writings all over and in the back verandah, next to a little lawn a long table (several tables put together?) covered with a white table cloth has rows of plastic red chairs lined up. There is either a meeting scheduled or someone is cooking up a storm somewhere inside. Strangely nobody is seen around. In a corner there is a little pram and some toys lying around. The resident family must be having some very little members. 

With the Israeli dominance, it is not surprising that most cafes/restaurants and guest houses offer Israeli dishes on the menu.  And yes, like all tiny hill stations there is the ubiquitous German Bakery, which incidentally seems to be like a hot spot in Kasoli going by the handmade posters stuck all around announcing several parties slated to happen. I really would like to know why there are German Bakeries everywhere from Thamel in Kathmandu to Kasol in Himachal Pradesh. 

We are looking for coffee and guess what, you can't get coffee especially cappuccinos or expresso because coffee machines cannot be operated. And why can't coffee machines cannot be operated? Because stupid, there is no electricity. If one is not gobsmacked then I wonder what one can be because you are in a hill station and there is the gorgeous Parvati river raging away and river Beas is in the vicinity and a few miles before you hit Kasol, you pass a huge hydro electric project under construction.  But no Sirjee, Kasol has no electricity for hours at a stretch. We turn away disappointed from every cafe until one, on the first floor, assures us good cappuccinos and expresso. We march up thankful that one cafe owner is smart enough to run a generator or whatever. The coffee arrives, its deathly white, there's no coffee aroma and even before you take a sip, you know its just a mean pinch of coffee added to boiling milk, which of course was boiled on gas fire. I'm not sure taking it up with manager will work, he looks hassled enough. Besides, the cafe sported a huge poster which said whether we are lions or deers we all be better running. And run we did.  

 

To The Himalayan Village, a beautiful resort on the Manikaran Road. It is as if you are suddenly transported to another world. The mountains are the same, the tall pines are the same, the flowing river is the same but within the boundary walls of The Himalayan Village its a different story. The first thing that leaves you stumped for words is the architecture. According to the management it is the ancient Kathkunia style, the style used to build homes earlier which involves stacking stones and wood without cement. The inner walls are mud plastered.  The whole look of the resort is quintessential traditional Himachal. The resort is built in a terrace like manner, slowly rising up from the ground level and when your follow the rise up  to the roofs, your head is almost thrown back fully and you see in the towering trees and the skies above like a canopy. There are all the creature comforts and cons of the modern times, yet it is like being taken to the Himachal of old. Then there are flowers - gigantic bright coloured roses- and others blooming all over. Apart from the usual stuff, it also offers typical Himachali cuisine. It feels good to see someone in Kasol at least preserving something of the past.

 

 Kasol is one place that you have to pass through if you want to go to Manikaran, a pilgrimage destination for both Hindus and Sikhs, famous for its hot springs, a dip in which it is said is the answer to many ailments.There are several temples and a huge gurudwara. In fact, every few minutes busloads of pilgrims seem to be heading for it. Competing with the buses are motorbikes riders, often with a woman riding pillion zooming dangerously on the snaking roads. If Manikaran was home, at least for some time to many Hindu Gods including Shiva and Parvati and if this is where the Sikh Guru Nanak also lived there for sometime, you are left wondering why is nothing much godly about the place. There are monstrous ugly concrete constructions that are total eyesores and busloads of tourists milling around. There's noise, crowd and confusion. We take a unanimous swift decision. We turn our car around. I am sure the gods will understand.